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littlegodzilla · 3 years ago

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can I have a short fluff? being reunited with Daryl in Alexandria after being separated at the prison? ( wouldn't say no to smut teehee)

Hi Anon!!

I loved your request, it remembered me a little idea that I had when I started seeing the TV Show but I never wrote it so I'm going to post it now.

I know I said I'd be gone this week, but my husband is a little sick and I have a lot of time off so....

I hope you like it!!

Meet Again.

Daryl Dixon x FemReader.

Anon request.

Warning: Fluff. A little smut. A little surprise.

Words: 4700.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @purple-serenity @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @twdeadfanfic @srhxpci @xxtinasxxblog

You met Daryl at the camp outside Atlanta, you were always attracted to him, you won't deny it, you never could. His scruffy appearance, his brusque character and his constant defiance against Shane managed to attract all your attention. It was a physical attraction, you were sure of it, the redneck was handsome, with those intense blue eyes, shapely arms from carrying that crossbow, his long days of hunting, you were convinced that sex with him must be really good. But you didn't do anything, at least not during the time you were in the camp, although you didn't care about privacy, the fear and the constant tension that some zombie would appear there, diminished your sexual appetite, but that didn't mean that you didn't follow his movements with your eyes full of desire. You were very clear about what Daryl was for you, a distraction, an adventure, a passing pleasure, if you managed to get hold of him, you would accept whatever the villager offered you. You weren't in love, your heart wouldn't break. You just needed to keep your mind distracted with something.

And that was Daryl Dixon.

From glances you moved to small smiles, always avoiding Merle being near, when he brought new game or helped with the laundry, you brushed his hands, connecting your looks, but Daryl always turned away and walked away, he seemed uncomfortable with the situation, so you didn't insist, but you didn't hold back when you wanted to touch him either.

Everything changed when Rick Grimes showed up, Merle got caught in that whip and death invaded the camp. Scared and with no way out you left the safety of the camp to take to the road seeking refuge at the CDC in the hope that you could find a safe place for a long time, or even a cure.

It was the first time Daryl touched you. It was the first time you shared the feel of each other's bodies.

It was sex without expecting anything else. A way to release all the tension you had built up, along with the desire you had been keeping quiet. You left your door open after showering and Daryl walked in without waiting for an invitation. The two of you let your desire take over. Daryl was intense, he roamed your body with his mouth and hands making you see stars. His cock made you moan as it had for a long time, but when the passion passed, Daryl seemed to be aware of what he had done and left your room slamming the door.

You didn't need to go after him, you didn't need to ask for explanations. You had gotten what you wanted, you had calmed your curiosity and desire for the hunter, if the next day he didn't remember what had happened or didn't want to hear from you in that sense, you were fine with that. However something did change, you didn't notice it at first, but you did notice that Daryl was more aware of you.

When Jenner confessed that the place was no longer safe, that it would self-destruct everyone panicked, Shane and Rick were trying to talk some sense into him while Daryl wanted to open the armored door with an axe.

"Come on, move!" he yelled at you as Jenner let you guys go grabbing your hand to get you out of there.

He even shielded you with his own body when the building exploded, so the shockwave wouldn't hit you. They were small gestures that were camouflaged under tense looks and annoyed grunts, but little by little you began to discover them and it made your heart melt more and more. At the Greene family farm things didn't change too much, even though he was focused on finding Sophia, every night when he came back from his patrols he always found a moment to look for you.

"What yer doin'?" he said to you the first day he found you alone outside the tent.

"I was talking to the girls, we wanted to thank the family for their hospitality." You told him and Daryl hummed nodding. "How did it go today?"

"As usual." He shrugged and held your wrist. "Come."

It wasn't a romantic invitation, there were no words of love or whispers of promises, it was just desire and need. Tucked into Daryl's tent the archer released his frustration and you allowed him to use your body as he needed at that moment, hushing your moans as your partners' tents were nearby. It wasn't the only night, but every morning you woke up alone, with a plate of food on the side, but alone. You still didn't care, Daryl managed to distract your mind from the shitty world you were in, you weren't going to impose rules you didn't need. He was looking for you and you were accepting what he was offering.

When Andrea shot him by mistake anger consumed you. She had been warned not to shoot, but she ignored everything, you were sure that day you could have killed her with your bare hands for daring to hurt Daryl, but you only broke her nose and maybe pulled out a lock of her hair. Between you and Carol you took care of Daryl, you never felt the woman as a threat, you were aware of the friendship that was forming between them, Carol had lost her family in a matter of days and Daryl seemed like the only one who really wanted Sophia back.

"Where are ya goin'?" he said to you that night as Carol took the tray of food away and you were about to leave as well.

"You need to rest."

"Stay, the bed is big enough for both of us." He said or rather whispered, as if he was embarrassed to ask you, but he didn't need to repeat it either.

Of course the mood and his attention to you changed dramatically when you found Sophia in that barn. His confidence crumbled, he verbally attacked Carol, tried to push you all away, but you knew he was just hurt, his effort had been for nothing. That night after he kicked Carol out of his camp, you went over to talk to him.

"What?" he barked at you as soon as he detected your presence, you shook your head and sat down by the fire. "I ain't wanna ya 're, get out." He said to you, but you didn't move. "Yer deaf? Do ya believe that...!"

"I don't think anything, I'm just here enjoying the fire."

"Ya can do that with the others."

"I know, but I don't want to."

"Why, who told ya I need ya here?"

"No one, and I don't think you need me here either, but I'd rather be, I just need to warm my hands and I'll go." You said and gave him a sidelong glance. Daryl chewed his lower lip nervously, he looked annoyed, but sighed sitting down too, giving up.

You remained silent for several minutes, you weren't sure how long, you watched the fire and felt the archer's gaze on you, examining you. Finally he seemed to give in.

"It wasn't my responsibility... sophia wasn't my daughter..." He says, anger oozing from his words. "It wasn't my obligation to find her, I didn't..." He falls silent with a frustrated sigh. "I failed... I promised Carol I would bring her back and I failed..."

"It's not your fault, Daryl, you shouldn't torture yourself. You did everything you could to bring Sophia back to her mother. You fought for them, you did more in a few days than Ed possibly did in his entire life." You comfort him and Daryl grimaces with his mouth. It's not enough but you know your words ease his tortured mind a little.

"She was just a kid..." He whispers and you reach over stroking his back.

"I know..."

Daryl came back for you when the farm was engulfed in flames. He came back for you on his motorcycle, at first you watched him ride away with Carol and you ran for your life, for a second you came to think you wouldn't make it out of there, but you heard the engine in the distance and your legs ran faster towards the road. When you were in a safe place, Daryl got off the bike, examining your body.

"Bites? Scratches?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Don't ever leave my side again." It almost sounded more like a plea than a command.

You two never put a name to what began to emerge between you, your feelings were changing too, you fell in love with him, with the way he cared for you, protected you without saying it, looked out for everyone, became the guardian of the group when Rick was not fit. You created a home in the prison, a place where you felt safe after a long time, with enough supplies and space for all of you to be comfortable. At first Daryl slept in the corridor of the cells, he refused to lock himself in a cage, as the days went by it was more and more difficult to take him out of your cell, out of your bed. Silently, unnoticed, you forged a bond, a strong relationship, where you both opened up to each other telling each other things from before the fall of the world, Daryl told you about his shitty childhood, his parents, how he had to survive many things alone, you told him about your own traumas and mistakes made, feeling better after being able to say it out loud, freeing yourselves from burdens of the past.

You never said 'I love you' but you would wake up hugging his chest, or with his arm around your waist, his fingers caressing your belly absentmindedly despite being asleep. Your gazes would connect and you would give each other discreet smiles charged with intense meaning.

Until the Governor arrived, and everything turned to chaos and destruction. The prison fell, you were forced to separate, each of you ran to one side to save your lives. You ran into the forest, dodging the Governor's men.

You were alone.

You tried to go back, you tried to look for your group, you called Daryl until you lost your voice, but nothing helped, it even felt like you were going in circles. You started wandering through the forest looking for help, for your companions, you didn't know how long you had been wandering alone, but you became aware of something that scared you more, if it was possible.

You were pregnant.

Panic set in, you were alone, with hardly any food or water, a baby was growing inside you, you didn't know where you were, you didn't know how to find your friends, Daryl. Every time you thought of the hunter the anguish grew greater. Had he noticed your condition? Maybe that's why he touched and caressed your belly so often, maybe that's why he kissed your belly after sex, but no, it couldn't be. Daryl wasn't one of those people who made the decision for both of us. Especially not something like this.

You doubted very much that Daryl wanted children. Not in the apocalypse, not ever.

Aaron found you when you were four months along. Even today you're not sure how you could wander so long alone, not meeting anyone you knew, but Georgia is huge and walking sometimes even goes in circles. The man was going with his partner, Eric, they came from a well organized community, with walls, with life, you couldn't believe it, even when you got there your eyes were amazed at what they were seeing. It really was a huge community, everyone had their lives, their assigned tasks, everyone was useful and everyone lived in peace. You ate well, you slept, a doctor examined you just to relieve your anguish, your baby was fine, despite your poor nutritional capacity, the fetus did not present any problems. You asked for Rick, for Daryl, for the group in general, but no one had seen them.

Despite living surrounded by the best comforts you could wish for in a long time, you were not happy, you were missing your companions, the father of your baby. You missed Daryl, you couldn't imagine how much. He had become such a part of you that it hurt just to think of what could have happened to them.

"I'll find them." Aaron promised you one day. "My duty is to find good people for our community and your group is extraordinary." He smiled and stroked your baby's tiny little hand. "I will bring Daryl back to you."

His promises gave you hope, though you never reproached him for failing at every attempt. It wasn't his obligation, it was possible they were far away from there, it was possible they had died trying to escape the Governor. There were many scenarios in your mind and the vast majority were not encouraging. It wasn't Aaron's fault and you knew it.

You wake up early that morning to the babbling of your child. You smile and walk over to his crib checking to make sure he is okay, he smiles animatedly waving his little arms in the air wanting to play. His intense blue eyes squeeze your heart. He is the spitting image of his father. Carefully you pick him up and sit on the edge of the bed to feed him, rocking him with infinite affection as you hum a soft song, you've never been good at it, but to your surprise it always soothed him.

"Aaron and Eric are back!" You hear in the street suddenly. "They're coming with more people!"

You tense momentarily and your little one protests in your arms. They've found more survivors, it's wonderful news, more people safe within those walls. Your heart flutters in your chest with happiness and with hope. Carefully you pick up the baby and put him back in the crib.

"Mommy now come back, be good." You ask, he stammers and waves his hands, but stays calm. You smile kissing his blond hair and hurry out of the house.

At a brisk pace you head towards the front door, you hear a lot of whispering. Apparently it's a large group, with women and some children, Eric is hurt, whatever happened, Aaron's husband has been hurt badly, although it doesn't seem serious. Before you reach the front door Aaron appears in your field of vision. For a second you panic as you weren't expecting it, but he has a huge smile plastered on his face, his eyes shine brightly and he hugs you so tightly that for a second you think you're going to suffocate to death.

"Aaron..."

"I found him." He says matter-of-factly and your heart stops.

When Aaron releases you your eyes fall on the group being discreetly surrounded by the people of Alexandria, giving them their space, but alert in case something unpleasant should happen. The first one you recognize is Rick, as always leading the group, his sheriff's clothes getting more battered every day but still having that respectful effect on the people, next to him is michonne who refuses to let go of his sword, Glenn and Maggie follow, Carl and Judith with the others. God, they've grown so much since you last saw them. But then you see him.

Daryl.

Closing the group, his crossbow in his hands, watching everything, making sure how many people are there, studying all the weak spots in the place, memorizing the possible ways out. His hair is much longer since the last time you saw each other in the prison, with his inseparable vest, his gesture is broken into a grimace of seriousness and sadness, you're not sure what he's been through, but it's clear he's still getting over it. Everyone has seen you, but no one moves, despite the desire you have to hug each other, they know they are not a priority. You advance a few steps and Daryl finally detects your presence.

It is a strange situation, you both feel as if everything around you suddenly stops. Your gazes meet and Daryl stops. He opens his eyes wide and you see him call out your name although no sound reaches your ears. It's as if he sees a ghost. You take another step forward, but you stop, fear gripping you. What if he's not happy to see you? What if he didn't mind losing you? What happens now? Your baby, how are you going to tell him that? What if he doesn't want to know? Now that you've found him, you don't want to lose him, but suddenly you feel so scared that you don't realize that Daryl has dropped his gun and is running straight for you. His body crashes into yours like a train, his strong arms wrap around your body and squeeze you against him, he lifts you off the ground a few inches to pull you back down, you feel him hug you so tightly that he's choking you too, but you don't care. You're on cloud nine. His smell, his warmth, his touch send you to another state, that mixture of forest, cigarettes and his own body odor makes you shiver and then you are aware of how much you wanted to see him.

And you cry.

You hug him as tightly as your trembling arms will allow, emotion and nervousness leaving you limp as your tears spill over your eyes uncontrollably. You feel him rocking you as he repeats your name over and over, as if he wants to make sure you are alive, that you are not an illusion. He breaks away from you to look at you and you discover that he too is letting silent tears flow. He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for a second. He himself is struggling with his own anxiety, his own despair, you caress his cheeks and kiss his lips. Daryl kisses you with the same intensity, holding you by the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. There is need and fear in every kiss you give each other, joy and hope, the nervousness that invades you both mixes with every caress you offer each other, you are both trembling, worried that when you open your eyes, it will all disappear. When you finally separate for air, your gazes mingle again, you smile and try to calm all the emotions that keep invading you, Daryl lowers his head for a second and you feel his hands ball into fists.

"I'm sorry... I couldn't find ya..." He whispers. "I thought I'd lost ya..."

"I'm here, Daryl, you didn't lose me...I'm here." You assure him by kissing and hugging him again.

The whole group joins your embrace now, after giving you time to meet again, they also want to be part of it, to know what happened to you. There is not much time to tell anything, Deanna immediately intervenes. There is a protocol in the community, everyone must go through a small interview where the woman will decide what to do with them and what position each of them will be able to occupy.

"Go with them." You tell Daryl who refuses to let go of you. "They are good people, trust me." You ask him and smile. "I have to go get..." You keep quiet because you don't know if it's the best time to tell him, but Daryl nods his head.

"Okay, I trust ya." He looks at you intensely and you kiss one more time before walking with the rest of the group to the main house.

You don't know what to do, you watch your little one rest in the crib, oblivious to all the doubts that come over you. Maybe it's too hasty, maybe it's not the best moment, you've just met again, but you can't hide it forever, Daryl has the right to know. You sigh and take the little one in your arms leaving your house to go and look for Daryl. Surely the group is still going on with Deanna's interviews, so you have time to think about what to say.

When you get there everyone is surprised to see you show up with a baby in your arms, but again they are not the ones to say anything, you look for Daryl and see him in Deanna's office, he is with the interview, but he clearly wants to get out of there as soon as possible. You smile and walk into the room. Daryl looks at you again and surprise comes over him. Ignoring the woman and the camera he approaches you again. He frowns slightly, the baby looks up at you with its huge eyes and seems nervous. You scan his face with your gaze, his blond hair, his blue eyes, he even has a small mole on his lip. He gets goose bumps and his heart races. He looks at you biting his lip, raises his hands nervously, but stops.

"His name is Bowie..." You say blushing. "I remembered your knife and thought... I don't know..." You shrug feeling stupid. "Y-you want to take him?"

"I-I'm dirty, I ain't wanna..." He tries to excuse himself, but when he moves his hands close to the baby, he raises his hand grabbing one of his fingers.

Silence falls over you, it's almost as if you find it hard to breathe. Bowie babbles and squeals in amusement trying to squeeze his father's finger in his little hand. Daryl's heart melts by the minute and finally he dares to take him in his arms, rocking him gently, tilting his head and kissing the soft tangle of hair on his head. A feeling of joy very similar to when he first held Judith floods him, but this time more intense, for this baby is his. It is his child.

"Ya went through all this by yerself...I'm sorry." He apologizes again as he becomes aware, you shake your head and try to control the tears again, but seeing Daryl with the baby in his arms, Bowie has recognized his father by instinct. It's getting to be too much for you.

"It wasn't your fault, Daryl and I wasn't alone...Aaron came out to get you every day..." You tell him and wipe away your tears. "I knew we'd eventually find each other again."

Daryl holds the baby with one hand against his chest, with the other he wraps his hand around your body and hugs you, the three of you stay melted like that for a while, just enjoying each other's presence.

Even though there are things that still need to be clarified, that night you enjoy a welcome dinner, the whole group and the people of Alexandria, there is enough food and drink for everyone, there is joy, laughter, chilling anecdotes and at the same time relief to know that everything has gone well. It's a crowded party and you feel a bit overwhelmed, but you are grateful that they make the effort to stay and meet the people who have given you a home. They tell you what it was like to escape from prison, the loss of Tyreese, of Beth, how they found Father Gabriel, you hug and comfort Maggie as remembering her sister still hurts, you shed some tears too, for Beth was an innocent soul who didn't deserve to die so soon. They tell you how they found Abraham and his group and you thank them for helping them escape, even if it was based on Eugene's lies.

The party drags on, but you have to feed Bowie and put him to bed, it's too late for him. You look at Daryl and stroke his arm to get his attention.

"I'm going to take Bowie home, if you want later you can come over..."

"I'm coming with ya." He cuts you off and shakes his head. "C-can I take him back?" He asks you and you laugh low.

"Of course."

You walk in silence towards your house, Daryl carries the boy who is already uncomfortable, he's awake since very early and starts to get hungry, which makes him protest and cry in his father's arms, but Daryl doesn't panic, he rocks him and whispers softly against his ear wanting to calm him down.

"That's it, champ, we're home, now mommy will feed ya." He promises him in soft words and you smile tenderly.

You open the door to your house indicating to Daryl where the living room is, you both walk in and sit down on the couch, Daryl hands Bowie back to you and you unbutton your shirt so the baby can teat. Daryl is sitting next to you and his gaze is intense on you.

"I'd almost say I'm jealous..." He mumbles and a giggle escapes you.

"Daryl's a baby..."

"I know..." He whispers looking away to look at you and kiss you.

Daryl became a very physical person with you, from the first day he tasted your skin at the CDC he was drawn to your touch and taste, he wished he could touch you and have you whenever he could. Now, after all, he still feels the same, but it's not just a physical need, he has the urge not to let go of you, he's afraid to do so and that you might disappear again. He examines every move you make, your mute invitation to accompany him into the room when Bowie falls limp in his arms, he follows you silently and you both wish the baby who is already far away a good night.

Daryl looks at you and a new nervousness comes over you. You have changed. Your body has changed. Your dimensions and your skin are not the same after giving birth. You are afraid that Daryl will see you naked and not find you attractive. You try to pretend you are fine, but at the same time you put distance between you. You grab some clothes ready to change somewhere else.

"I'm going to get you some clothes to sleep in..." You try to excuse yourself, but as you pass by his side, Daryl grabs you and hugs you. His chest pressed against your back.

"Y'think I dunno what's goin' on? Y'think I haven't figured out what yer hiding from me?" he whispers soothingly in your ear and you shiver. You feel his hands caress your hips, move up to your belly, his fingers unbutton your shirt, one of his hands slips between your legs and squeezes your core. You gasp and close your eyes. "I showed ya my scars, I told ya my stories and ya never judged me..." He whispers in your ear. "Why are ya ashamed of yer body when it gave us something as perfect as Bowie?"

"Daryl..." You feel your eyes fill with tears again.

"I've missed ya..." He whispers again and you feel him kiss your neck.

It's not the words that make you give in, it's how he says them, there's a tinge of need, relief and hope in them that melts you and you let Daryl undress you, caress every corner of your skin, he runs his fingertips over all the stretch marks that have marked your body, your belly and wrinkled navel that makes you shudder wanting to stop him, but he breaks free following his path down your body to your chest, you hiss and he stops.

"Do they hurt?" he asks you brushing against the areolas of your nipples.

"Your son isn't very careful when he eats..." You joke and hear him laugh behind you.

"Like his father, then." You want to respond but his words are laden with such intense promise that it nips your words in the bud.

You can't say for sure what makes that moment special and different. Maybe it's the time you've been apart, maybe it's all the emotions you were holding back that are now finally coming to light, maybe it's your own need to have him with you, but everything becomes slower, more intense. Daryl's weight on you, the burning touch of his hands, the wetness of his mouth running over your skin, even when he loses himself between your legs and his tongue slips inside you feel like you're about to explode. You do your best to stifle your moans so as not to wake your son, but Daryl is also doing his best to make you lose your mind. Your bodies melt together, your insides welcome Daryl as if he had never left, you both move at the same time, your moans echo in the room along with your sighs of pleasure, your sweat mingles and your names escape each other's mouths as the climax hits you violently leaving you exhausted.

Still feeling the frantic beat of your heart you embrace Daryl's body who traps you in his arms and kisses the top of your head.

"I love you..." You confess for the first time since you started to have feelings for him.

"I love you too..." He replies and that surprises you.

Nevertheless you smile and kiss him before hugging him again. For the first time, maybe since before the world fell, you feel complete.

The End...

I hope you enjoyed it!!

See you in the next stories!!

#norman reedus #normanreedus #smut #daryl dixon #daryldixon #twd fanfiction #one shot #ask me #anon request #smut request #fluff request #smut one shot #fluff one shot #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader

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alterlifes-a · 7 years ago

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stardust. anyway since i’m already on my laptop ( dw i’m hopping onto mobile again after this post ), i wanted to talk about tooru’s side that he tries to keep hidden. namely, the trait which ties in with his ability to “ see ” the fourth wall and thus know that he is an oc ( though, admittedly, how in parallel motion starts, and how i play it on this blog, is that he can only know via intuition; as i’ve stated numerous times, the moment that tooru fully realizes the true nature of his existence is when he crosses into that despair event horizon—ergo, having him know that the entire universe he lives in is an amalgamation of his actions ( that is, that it exists because he selfishly wished it so ) from the get-go wouldn’t bode well. there wouldn’t BE a tooru to write if that was the case ). yeah, i’m talking about tooru’s inherent nature to be a huge hecking troll. sounds ridiculous, right ? and honestly, i do play it off for laughs, but one HUGE recurring motif i’m trying to instil in my canon is the notion that everything is a subversion. are clichés inevitable, either way ? yes, of course. our ability to create as humans, while impressive, is still limited. but what i want to do is take the clichés which have been done to death, as well as different archetypes, and paint them in ways that you could never think would come from these kinds of characters. heck, you could argue that it’s why i write tooru to be so multifaceted and realistic; it’s because he isn’t JUST an archetype to be filled in a story. he is his own person, and he has traits which both gravitate, and deviate, from his role as the typical “ love interest ” in his story. so how does this exactly connect to tooru being the way that he is ? well, that’s it. he’s the love interest. they’re supposed to be dainty—the ___ in distress, the one who the hero wins at the end, like a trophy. they are kind and gentle and that is both their strength and flaw. but not a flaw in a super bad way; they are simply “ too nice ” and that is the trait which leads them into getting whisked away by the bad guy. and tooru encompasses that. he is too nice, too loving, trusting, and naive. but being “ too nice ” is not his greatest flaw. it’s being so kind to the point where it reaches levels of ( sometimes destructive ) self-sacrificing tendencies and a borderline martyr/hero complex. as a character, love becomes that which personifies itself as him, but also that which causes his downfall most of the time. tooru as a character subverts stereotypical tropes, not in just doing, but by being. he is not the damsel or what have you in distress. he doesn’t need anyone to save him—and fittingly, the person he needs saving from isn’t even the machinations of the universe, or the original tooru, or masumi. it’s himself, and he’s going to be his own hero. and subconsciously, he knows this. and that is exactly why tooru is such a troll. allow me to elaborate and connect the dots even further, though. because tooru is a spin on your typical cliché, he, in turn, loves subverting tropes, himself. he likes to render the smooth-talking character speechless. he likes to make the often stoic and stone-faced characters get angry. he likes making the easily-irritable, explosive people laugh happily. and so he does whatever he can to do just that: subvert those tropes. make people do things that they aren’t wont to do. his entire goal is to have them act out of character. and yes, part of it does tie in with his romanticization of things ( i.e. he wants the tough asshole to have a heart of gold, he wants the villain to do a heel-face turn because he got through to them ... ), but overall, he kind of just ... finds it fun. maybe it’s because he’s competitive. maybe it’s because he gets riled up during sports, enjoys provoking the other team. either way, tooru loves doing that. he likes to trick people, and it’s even better because he’s a kind person, so no one would expect it. they see tooru and they assume he’s another pastel pink, “ teehee ~ ! ”, overly and overtly kind, one-dimensional shoujo kind of character—definitely not the type to go out of his way to piss people off. but that’s what he does, because turning stereotypes on their head, both in other people, and how others interpret him, is honestly so fun to him. admittedly, however, i think he wouldn’t do anything to other kind people like him ... he’d mostly enjoy poking fun at and trolling the mean-spirited / “ tsundere ” / stoic people. it’s ironic, both because he, himself, tends to be a tsundere at times ( dependent on who he’s with; again, this is due to him wanting to subvert his own cliché and thus he acts rude and abrasive when you expect him to be gentle all the time ), and because he gets pissed when they don’t fold. speaking of; this can also be doubly subverted if he’s talking to someone who is literally a stone wall—i.e. they won’t fall easily to his provocations. so instead of breaking the stoic and getting them mad at him, tooru actually gets frustrated, instead. it’s because they’re ... subverting his attempt at subversion. OK, i think that’s all i wanted to say, thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#and like all my other hcs since i posted this late af no ones gonna even read it mKLMFSMF #hc .#oh i also wanna write one abt him being kind of a tsundere tbh #i'll save that one for later #ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ᴜᴘ ɪ'ᴍ ʀᴜ ɪ'ᴍ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜ*ᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ☆ ( ooc post. )

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thefragileblackdahlia · 5 years ago

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In the Beginning: Part two

Chapter Summary: Dean is transported back in time and finds that his newfound grandfather may be hiding a secret that is key to Sam and Dean's predicament. While dreaming, he finds a familiar face. Castiel seems to have trouble remembering, and Ariel deals with her time in the Mal'ak box.

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Archangel!OFC

Warning(s): Self-loathing, Fluff, Angst, Typical Supernatural violence, Mild Language

A/N: I wasn't sure how to write this one. It isn't one of my favorite episodes, but still, the story is essential. Thanks to everyone who is keeping up with the fic. This episode will have LOTS of Dean x Ariel content, teehee.

Beta'd by Katieartist

Word count: 2,742

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After tracking Mary and John to a diner, Dean finds out that his mother was a hunter. Dean persuaded Mary to let him talk with her dad, his grandfather. There, his elder quizzed him on how to hunt the supernatural.

Mary's father sat in a recliner chair, studying a lore book as he acknowledged Dean. "So, you're a hunter?" He mocked, "Well, tell me something, mister hunter, you kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?"

Dean grinned at his forwardness, "Neither. You cut their heads off. So, do I pass your test?" He poked.

"Yep." Samuel retorted while also closing the lore book in annoyance and tossing it on the small coffee table. "Now get out of my house." He snapped.

Mary scoffed at her dad's disdain. "Dad!"

Samuel ignored his daughter and made no effort to look Dean in the eye. "I don't trust other hunters, Dean, don't want their help, don't want them around my family."

In the background, Deanna prepared the table. "Knock it off, Samuel."

"He's a hunter," Sam replied.

Deanna strolled into the living room and placed a hand on her hip, "Who passed your little pop quiz, and now I am inviting to dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Starving." Dean replied.

"Good. I'm Deanna." She informed, extending out a hand for Dean to shake. "You've met my husband, Samuel, now wash up."

Dean looked at Mary with a warm smile; it made him feel nice to know he and his brother were named after their grandparents. "Samuel and Deanna?" Mary just gave him a knowing nod. He added, "Really?"

. . .

Everyone sat around the dinner table, eating dinner. Dean held a knife in one hand and a fork in the other. As he went to tear into his steak, he was interrupted by a light tap on the arm from Deanna.

"First time in Lawrence, Dean?" She started with a smile.

"Well, it's been a while. Things sure have changed...I think." Dean went back to eating, but before he could, he was asked another question.

"You working a job?" Samuel asked while pouring gravy over his mashed potatoes.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean replied vaguely, setting both forearms on the table as he looked to Sam.

"What's that mean?" Samuel snapped.

Dean smirked at Samuel's suspicions, "It means I don't trust other hunters either, Samuel."

Mary and Deanna shared a look of admiration for Dean's sass. The young woman chewed on her fork before speaking, "Hey, um" She cleared her throat. "Why were you following me and John?"

The chartreuse-eyed hunter sat his utensils down and looked to Mary. "Mmm, I thought something was after you, um -- boyfriend, but um, I don't think that anymore."

Mary looked at her father as Deanna began talking, "John Winchester mixing it up with spirits, can you imagine?" Deanna tittered while shifting her gaze to her husband. Samuel grimaced.

"I saw that," Mary mumbled.

"What?" Her father retorted.

Mary snatched her napkin from her lap and placed in on the table. "That sour lemon look."

The elder held up his hand and flashed her a nervous smile. "Now hold on, John's a really, really nice..." He took a long pause and turned away from Mary as he continued. "Naive civilian."

The young woman scoffed and nodded over to Dean, "So what? You'd rather me be with a guy like this?"

Dean gagged on his water, peering up at Mary, his mother. "What? No, no. No. I- I have...someone- I think" He coughed and lifted the napkin to his lips.

"You think?" Deanna smiled at his uncertainty. "Why not 'I know?' " She pressed.

The righteous man tightened his hold on the glass at her question. What would his answer be, 'Because she is an Archangel and is locked away in heaven.' They didn't need to know about that or her.

Dean pulled his lips into a tight line and nodded his head. "She's uh...tied up right now, with more important things." He stammered through that sentence, a few pauses here and there. The hunter cleared his throat to avoid any more prying. "So what about you, Sam? You, uh, working a job?"

Samuel brought his glass to his lips and gave Dean a shrug, "Might be."

Mary picked at her food and rolled her eyes. "He's working a job on the Whitshire farm." Sam's eyes immediately darted over to his daughter's ultimately giving her the bitch face.

"Whitshire--why does that name sound familiar to me?" Dean pondered.

Samuel leaned back in his chair as he responded, "It's been all over the papers --Tom Whitshire. Got tangled up in a combine a few towns over."

Dean shrugged. "That kind of thing happens."

"Except why was he on it in the first place if his crops are all dead?" Sam queried.

The young male hunter looked away in thought, "Demonic omens?"

"That's what I got to find out." Samuel affirmed, along with a nod.

Dean rubbed his fingers tips together to get whatever was left on them and then dabbed his face with the napkin. "What about the rest of the town? Did you find anything on the web-of... information that you have assembled?" Dean pursed his lips, understanding they had no idea what the internet was.

Deanna interjected, "Electrical storms, maybe. The weather service graphs should be here on Friday."

"By mail?"

Sam scoffed at the question, how else would it be delivered? "No, we hired a jetliner to fly them to us overnight." He ridiculed.

This just made Dean smile. Of course, it wasn't a laughing matter, but the tension just made things awkward.

"You know, it sounds to me like we might be hunting the same thing." Dean drawled. "You know if we go in there in numbers, we could take care of this real quick."

Samuel leaned into the table, "What part of 'we work alone' do you not understand, son?" He made his feelings clear. He didn't want Dean anywhere near their hunt.

The mossy eyed hunter got the message loud and clear. He shifted in his chair and flashed his family a sheepish smile. "Okay."

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Dean relaxed on the motel bed; his mind overwhelmed by all that he has learned. His mother's side of the family were hunters. He had so much to tell Sam when he got home.

The man let out a hard sigh as he removed his shoes. He figured he should go shower, so he pushed himself to his feet and wandered into the bathroom.

Every minute he wasn't talking or occupying himself, he thought of Ariel. He leaned over the sink with both hands on each side. It wasn't often Dean looked in the mirror, but when he did, he despised what he saw. He bored holes into his own eyes, clasping the ceramic sink.

The silence was deafening; he hated that. His thoughts were very loud, so loud that it felt like they were screaming, clawing at his skull. He tore himself away from the mirror and began peeling off his many layers. He sniffed, wiping his nose as he stood next to the tub in his boxers.

His movements were slow, almost as if he didn't want to shower, but he needed to- just to clear his mind of things. Dean never liked being alone. Everything felt too big- too much. This is why he needed Sam. His presence made him feel less isolated; he didn't carry the weight alone.

Dean clutched the shower nozzle and twisted it toward the 'H.' The water carried through the pipes and out the showerhead, raining down on the ivory tub. Casually, he stepped out of his undergarments and eased into the shower. He slid the curtains closed.

In the shower, nothing else mattered; it was just him and his thoughts. There, he allowed his facade to crumble. Why couldn't things be so much easier for him and his brother? He spent 40 years in hell just to be brought back to stop the rising of Lucifer.

The righteous man stood utterly still under the scalding water. The water pressure wasn't the best, but at this moment, he did not care. He carded his fingers through his damp hair while also taking a deep breath.

All of the guilt pulverized him, resulting in tears. They fell in rivulets with the water, blending in. Dean looked to the ceiling through his tears and let out an unsteady breath.

"I can't," He choked out before taking in a sharp breath. "It- It's not fair." Dean tried his best to hold in his sobs, but they came out the more he prayed to Ariel.

"It's not fair..." He lamented. All he wanted was to live a normal life now, to be ignorant of what went bump in the night. He knew he would be happier; his shoulders would feel much lighter.

All he longed for was to hear that it will be okay even if he knew that it wouldn't be, but he had no one- Correction; He didn't deserve anyone, or so he thought.

Dean turned off the shower and reached for a towel. He tied it around his waist and grasped for his boxers. His face was stoic, the opposite of what it had been just only 10 minutes ago.

The freshly cleaned hunter eyed his boxers, debating whether to hand wash them or not. Not. He dropped his towel and stepped into the plain black boxers. He decided not to sleep in his shirt, considering he might have to wear it tomorrow.

Dean shuffled over to his single bed and flopped down. It was a tough day, a lot to take in. He let out a loud sigh and shimmied under the scratchy blankets.

It was nice to fall asleep and be hopeful of something other than nightmares.

Dean drifted off to sleep.

. . .

Ariel laid in the fetal position against the cold hard metal, attempting to use her wings to keep comfy. She had only been in the Mal'ak box for two days, and it already felt like it has been a millennium.

In these moments, she missed the noisy disputes and Lucifer's destructive behavior. She felt empty.

Ariel's wings seized as a low frequency from 1973 was picked up and traveled through her eardrums. At first, she had no idea who it was that would pray to her, but then she thought about the only human she's made contact with since leaving heaven.

"I can't," The voice came through, echoing in her mind. It was Dean. "It- It's not fair." He started again with a trembling tone. Was he crying? This forced the archangel to her feet. She could not give up on humanity and certainly not on The Winchesters.

Ariel clenched her jaw and pressed her bloody digits against the metal door, the cold prickling her wounds. She did not care.

"It's not fair." Hearing him cry broke her, and her true vessel's heart. What was she to do?

Countless minutes had passed since she heard from Dean. She kept her fingers pressed against the small fissure, searching for relatively anything.

After a while, her arm began cramping from holding it up at an awkward angle. She couldn't give up. Ariel just inhaled deeply, shut her eyes, and searched again.

There he was.

. . .

Dean relaxed on the hood of his impala, sipping a beer and gazing at the stars above. He never really stargazed alone, but he felt like he was waiting for someone.

"I used to do this every day with my big brother..." A voice whispered from his left. He nearly leaped out of his clothes but calmed once he saw it was Ariel. His heart skipped a beat when he examined her. She dressed nicely, and all her bruises were gone. She donned a teal 40s sundress with tiny pink polka dots. It had thick straps and bow of the same print in the center. Her hair neatly pinned up in a tight, curly pony-tail.

Dean sat up slowly with his mouth agape. "You aren't all bruised." He stated. It was obvious she hid her bruises for his comfort but probably for herself too.

Ariel perched herself upon the ball of her palms, a modest smile dancing across her cherry pink lips. She pursed her lips at his statement. "You are very observant." She mocked with a sweet laugh.

"Yeah, well, you don't make it easy." The male riposted as he slid off the hood and rested himself against the side of the car. He avoided eye contact with her, shifting here and there whenever he could feel her gaze locked on him.

"I'm sorry." Ariel breathed while also coming down from the hood. The archangel didn't mean to offend him. He was genuinely concerned for her.

"Don't." Dean uttered hesitantly, then came a long pause.

The jaded hunter finally turned to face the woman. He had no idea she was standing this close to him because when he turned around, he could feel her body heat radiating from her. Dean clenched his jaw once his olive eyes fixated on her doe eyes.

"I- I meant..." He stammered, trying to find the right words before he proceeded. "Why would does someone like you give a crap about someone like me?" The man managed to get out before he started to break down.

Ariel looked away for only a moment, just to find an answer to his inane question. It wasn't as though she meant to 'give a crap' about him. He was her mission and only that, but she supposed Fate had other intentions.

"You ask why a lot, and never just accept. I don't know why I care, but I do." Ariel put it as best as she could.

Dean stilled, his eyes capturing all of the small details of her face. The freckles on her cheeks to the curl of her lips when her face relaxed. She had a beauty mark under her left eye, hiding under her long eyelashes.

He curled and uncurled his digits as he began speaking, "I have to question the good things 'cause in this life..." He hesitated. "They don't come easy or without a price."

Ariel offered Dean a wan smile before she tiptoed to fling her arms around his neck. She pulled him into a tight hug. She wasn't sure what to say to that. What he believed was right, but it didn't always apply to everything.

Dean closed his eyes, accepting her touch with bliss. He leaned into her, burying his face in between the crook of her neck and shoulder. She smelled like cherries. This small display of affection cracked his mask. Dean wrapped his arms around her and pulled him deeper into his chest.

Ariel carded her fingers through the hair on his nape, gripping him as tight as she did when she helped raise him from perdition. She brought her lips to his ear and planted a small kiss to his sideburn before she whispered, "It isn't you that will be paying the price, so do not worry."

"That doesn't make it any better." The guilt-ridden man only pulled her in tighter as he talked. This felt right; her in his arms and them chest to chest. The only missing thing was to connect all of them to merge as one.

Dean subconsciously pressed his lips against the skin of her neck. He ran his tongue over chapped lips and went to kiss the same spot, Ariel's figure flickered and gradually faded away like a mirage, and he felt a sudden pang of emptiness.

. . .

Ariel fell to the floor, nearly breathless. "Damnit." Dressing fancy and hiding her bruises took a considerable amount of energy and focus.

She leaned against the iron wall and pulled her knees to her chest. Those little moments gave her a reason to fight the wretched contraption. Either she would have to tear it apart or hope that Castiel will break her out. She focused on the former.

The warrior raised herself to her feet and pressed her palms against the loose hinge.

. . .

Dean reluctantly opened his eyes and stretched his limbs. "Great..." He slammed his fist down on the clock, putting an end to the incessant ringing. The worst part about dreaming is forgetting that nothing's authentic. The scenery and the stars were all fake except her. The thought put a smile on his face as he started his day.

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#dean winchester #dean x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #sam and dean #sam winchester #mary winchester #john winchester #supernatural archangel #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spnfamliy #spn #castiel #azazel

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seth-kate · 8 years ago

Text

-my heart is in hers

Anonymous said:

I’m down for a break up imagine with a really moody and self destructive Jug teehee

pairing: jughead jones x reader

a/n: a very vague request but one I ran with anyway!

Jughead remembers. He remembers like it was yesterday, and in his lost and limbo induced mind it might as well have been the day after everything had ended. Time doesn’t seem to matter anymore, and it certainly doesn’t go by like it used to. It feels sometimes, like every clock he sets his eyes on ticks a little slower than the second before.

Nothing makes sense, and he doesn’t care to make sense of it all. He doesn’t even try. Those minutes and hours that go by at an agonizing pace are spent cooped up in the trailer his father once owned, and doing nothing but watching football games on a tv that went out of fashion five years prior. He doesn’t even like football.

There’s a certain irony to the whole situation. How he thought he was making things better, while in reality he was just making things worse. How he imagined he’d feel good about it, happier that he was no longer holding certain people back.

“I’m not good enough for you!”

“Stop saying that, stop repeating that line like you actually believe it!”

“It’s because I do believe it! I’m nothing, alright?”

The lips that had been hovering over a beer bottle slowly wrapped around the neck, and Jughead Jones tipped a generous amount back. He closed his eyes as the dark taste hit his throat, and the memories clouded his mind.

The fuzzy television was crackling weakly as the football commentators shouted through the speakers about a game Jughead had lost interest in fifteen minutes ago. Jughead had forgotten what team he was supposed to be cheering on. He didn’t even care.

These days he tells himself he doesn’t care about a lot of things, and most of the time it’s the truth. He doesn’t care that he’s started drinking more than usual or that he hasn’t cleaned the trailer in months. It doesn’t bother him that his eyes have permanently partnered with purple bags that make him look like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks. His sleep pattern is another thing he doesn’t care about.

However, as uncaring and unemotional as he seemed to everyone in Riverdale and to himself, Jughead Jones cared a little too much about the girl he had let go. It had been for the best, he had told himself, it was all for the best.

Of course it had been for the best. How could anyone think that being with him was a good idea? After two years of a relationship going nowhere he knew it had been time to cut things loose, to let her go. He had fought with her so many times recently that it had gotten too monotonous and weary, and when he looked back now he knew he had done it all on purpose, just so she could have walked away on her own.

But she hadn’t. Y/n had stayed until he had been forced to break her heart himself.

He was a Jones, and Jones men weren’t good men. They were drunks, and liars and accessories to murder. They didn’t deserve good girls, or a good life. It was logic really, the most heart wrenching, cold and bitter logic there was. As he sat there in the old and worn armchair by the trailers window he felt exactly like his father.

He was all alone, with a bottle between his fingers and the staleness of the one before still resting on his lips.

This is why he had walked away. This is the reason he had let her go and be happier with someone else. But if it was right, then why did it feel so wrong? So out of place?

His answers were stalled in his half drunken mind as a loud rap on the trailers door made the whole place shake. Jughead groaned loudly enough that he knew the person outside would hear him. He knew exactly who it would be.

“Go away Archie!” he said angrily, throwing an empty beer can from yesterday at the door. The banging persisted, and so did Jughead’s annoyance.

“Jug, open the door! I know you’re in there!” came the voice of Archie Andrews.

“Of course you know I’m in here, I just answered you two seconds ago and the lights are on!” Jughead sarcastically remarked, rolling his baggy eyes.

“I’m giving you five seconds to open this door, or I’m going to kick it down” he sounded angry, but Jughead just smiled widely to himself and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“Go right ahead” he said back while taking another swig of beer. He always did like Archie’s dramatic displays of heroics.

He heard rummaging on the steps outside, and very soft grunts before the sound of the lock clicking rang louder than anything else. Jughead tried to hide his surprise at Archie actually being in his trailer by dropping his eyes to the bottle of Coor’s in his hand.

“So what happened to kicking my door down? Has the ginger stallion lost his bravado?” Jughead scoffed, still avoiding his best friends gaze.

“I see you haven’t lost your sarcasm” Archie told him with narrowed eyes "and besides, I remember where you keep your key"

“I’ve told you before, my odd sense of sarcasm and humour is just my way -”

“Of relating to the world, yeah I know” Archie said, not able to keep his eyes from looking all around “when was the last time you cleaned in here?”

“So I haven’t spring cleaned yet? Sue me”

“Look Jug, I came here as a favour to Betty, alright?” Archie squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers “she’s worried about you. You haven’t been eating the dinners she’s left for you, you don’t answer her calls, she said she wanted to meet you for lunch the other day and you never showed up”

“Look, tell your wife I appreciate the concern, and the fact she’s been leaving me food but I’m seriously alright, plus old Mrs Myers next door really likes Betty’s cooking” he took another swig of beer “I’m doing great, Arch. No need to worry about me”

“Jughead, you haven’t turned up to work in three weeks. I know you’re my best friend, and I know you don’t want to see me of all people but this has to stop. Whatever happened between you and my sister was hard, I get it. Betty and I have broken up plenty of times, but it always worked out in the end” Archie tried to use words of comfort, but they weren’t working.

“You know why it always worked out in the end?” Jughead asked, taking his feet off the coffee table and standing up “it’s because Betty was a Cooper, and she was a cheerleader and you were the star football player and the guy that every girl wanted! You inherited your fathers business and Betty took over the Register, and you had perfect kids while I stayed stuck here in this god damn trailer while everyone in this town hated me because of what my father did!”

“Jughead, don’t think like that” Archie coaxed.

“Don’t think like that! It’s true, Archie. I’m twenty six years old and people still haven’t let me live it down yet, and I know I made some bad choices and I know I hurt your sister, but she’s better off without me” he said, pushing past Archie to get to the fridge. He swung it open with force and grabbed another bottle of beer.

“You think y/n cared about all that? She’s loved you since she was sixteen! Don’t you get that?” Archie defended, the image of his little sister swimming in his mind.

“I know she loved me, and I loved her too” Jughead’s voice was soft, and broken “but I’m the son of a man who went to prison for dumping a body of a boy we went to school with, a man who lead a gang that I decided to join. I’m the person who hurt her by not coming home some nights, for forgetting birthdays and anniversaries. It was great while it lasted Arch, but I knew we had to grow up sooner or later”

“So you’re just going to stay in this trailer and drink yourself to death? To never come near any of your friends again, to just forget everything?” Archie furiously shouted, his eyes boring into the face of the boy he called his only brother “is that Jughead Jones’ grand master plan? Is that it?”

“Yes that’s it!” Jughead shouted back, a fist slamming onto the counter “that’s exactly what I’m going to do because that’s exactly what we Jones men do”

“No” Archie shook his head, a ginger wave flopping into his eye “no that’s not what you do. You’re just becoming exactly what everyone thinks you are, not who you really are”

“It doesn’t matter who I really am. I lost that part of myself the minute I let your sister walk out that door. My heart is in hers Archie, and she’s gone, so is the rest of me” Jughead sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging deeply.

“You need to stop this, Jughead! You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and to realise that you were happier with her” Archie told him with a set brow, feeling the need to defend his sister’s love for Jughead even though she wasn’t here.

“Yeah you know what, I was happier with her. I was the happiest I’ve ever been but y/ns happier without me. She’s better off without me” Jughead said, his eyes never leaving Archie’s.

“But Jughead -”

“But nothing Archie, alright? I’m tired of talking about this, I’m tired of thinking about this. So just leave me alone” he pleaded.

Archie took a long hard look at his best friend, contemplating fighting with him further and stressing that if he continued this way, he’d end up all alone for the rest of his life. He wanted to tell him that his sister was hurting too, but he didn’t want to add to the pain Jughead already felt. He just sighed heavily and turned towards the door.

“You never seen yourself when you were with her Jug, but I did. You were a better man because of her” Archie almost whispered, one hand on the door. Jughead just stared at the back of his head, and then, he was gone.

Another week had passed by. Another agonizing length of time that had gone by so slowly it made Jughead want to tear his hair out. He had spent it staring at walls and absently listening to that fuzzy television of his while barely eating the pizza’s he had delivered every night. He was living in limbo, and it was a state that made it hard for him to distinguish between reality and the haziness of his own mind. He could have died sitting there and he wouldn’t even have noticed.

He now stood in the shower, the scalding beads of water dropping onto his skin and turning it an angry red. He didn’t care. He just stood there and let the shampoo run down his back as it fell from his long black hair. Showering was the only real thing that broke up his day and got him off the couch. A whole month had gone by like this, and he was beginning to wonder when he’d crack.

A thought, a flitting and whimsical one had crossed his mind earlier where he imagined himself actually returning to work for Archie. His money was dwindling down slowly and he knew if he didn’t get back on his feet, he’d surely go mad. But rejoining society after a month of seclusion didn’t seem like the best thing to do.

What if Y/n Andrews was at the construction site one day? What if he ran into her at the supermarket? What if he found her in the arms of some other man one day? All these what ifs made him pull back on his decision to denounce being a hermit. So he stayed put. In this trailer. Slowly dying.

All of a sudden he found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He hadn’t even remembered getting out of the shower.

His eyes followed his reflection, and his shoulders sagged at the sight. His face was pale, his eyes were red and coupled with deep bags that were hardly flattering. He looked like a heartbroken man, and he was. But his heartbreak was for the best. Or so he kept telling himself.

A sharp rap on his front door made him snap his eyes away from the reflection of his tired looking face. He gripped the sink tightly and groaned in frustration so loudly he felt his muscles tremor with the strain.

He had told Archie to leave him alone. But obviously the message hadn’t sank past his ginger hair. Jughead thought about ignoring him, however the knocking continued but not as persistently as Archie normally knocked. Jughead sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair and quickly pulled on a tshirt over his damp body.

He grumbled all the way to the front door, cursing Archie Andrews and his persistence. He grabbed the handle of the front door and swung it open, a look of pure sourness on his face.

“Archie I’ve told you to leave me alone!”

But it wasn’t Archie who was standing there. It was the person Jughead had constantly thought about for the past month, and who he had been desperately in love with since he was eighteen years old, and the person who he had only been brave enough to ask out two years ago. The person he had let go.

“Y/n?” he quivered out, his eyes blinking at her as she stood there on the steps outside his trailer.

“Hi Juggie” her voice was so soft, and his heart clenched at her words.

“W-what are y-you doing here?” he choked out. He could barely speak when she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes. Those eyes that looked too much like his now. Red and raw.

“Archie told me you were doing pretty bad” y/n told him while folding her arms around herself “I just wanted to see if you were alright”

“I’m fine” he said weakly. He didn’t believe that, and neither did she.

“No, you’re not” she shook her head, feebly tucking a lock of long hair behind her ear.

“How would you know that?” he asked, trying his hardest to seem moody and cold, hoping that his attitude might cause her to walk away.

“Because I’m not fine” y/n told him, and at those words he seemed to shrink and disappear and as she gently pushed past him to get into his trailer he knew he hadn’t the strength to tell her to leave.

“We need to talk, Jughead. It’s been a month now and -”

“And what? We’re not together anymore so we don’t need to talk” the words stung him as they left his mouth, but he swallowed back the pain “so you, and Archie, and Betty can just go away and stop worrying about me because I’m fine”

“You know the more you say that the less you believe it” y/n told him, a flicker of sadness lighting up her eyes. He was afraid then and there that she’d start crying.

“Why are you really here?” he asked her, finding it hard to look at her but he seen her move closer to him from the corner of his eye.

“It’s been a month now Juggie, and I know you and I don’t want to be apart” she told him, her face screwed up and her voice tight “it doesn’t make sense for us to be apart”

“I gave my reasons why we should be apart”

“Your reasons are bullshit” she told him angrily.

“Bullshit? You know better than I do that this life here, the one that I could give you isn’t good enough!” Jughead announced with an angry flourish of his hands, but y/n persisted forward.

“That’s not true” she shook her head stubbornly, her hands shaking as they attempted to take his face. He stopped her halfway, his fingers winding around hers as he held them in the air.

“Yes it is” he whispered softly, looking into her face fondly “I’m not good enough for you, and someone else will make you happier”

How could he know that? She kept asking herself the same question. Jughead knew her inside and out, he knew everything she hated and the things she loved the most. Her annoying habits, and the music she loved to dance to. But how could he know that she would be happier without him? He truly didn’t, and she knew that.

“You’re wrong” she breathed out, her heart racing at the fact that he was touching her in some way, the heat of his hands in hers “I won’t ever be happy with anyone unless that person is you”

“You started talking about babies, and our future and I just knew I couldn’t give you those things you wanted. I’m not like Archie, I’m not perfect and I know you’d be better with someone like him” Jughead felt worthless and totally incompetent to be anywhere near someone like Y/n Andrews right now.

“My brother’s not perfect Jug, he’s far from it. Why do you feel this way, huh? Is it because of what happened with your father years ago? Is it because you think living here isn’t good enough?” she asked him, slowly letting her hands slip from his and this time he let her take his face “none of that matters”

“Of course it matters, y/n. You want to start a family, get married and live here in this trailer park for the rest of your life?” he asked her, his eyes tracing how the faint light of inside was bouncing off her face “all of our friends were moving on, getting good jobs and new houses and we were stuck. We’re stuck y/n”

“We’re still young, and we have the rest of our lives to figure it out. So what if we live here? As long as I have you then none of it matters. I love you, Jughead” at her words he closed his eyes and he let himself feel his heart beating. It felt far away, like it wasn’t in his body but hers.

“Do you love me?” she asked him and he opened his eyes. It was a shock for him to hear her actually ask. Before, his I love you’s had been offered so freely to her and at the most unexpected of times. Now she had to ask, with a genune concern in her voice. As if she believed he was capable of not loving her any longer.

“Of course I love you” he took her face now and she dropped her hands to his waist, nimbly holding him as if he would break “I told you to walk away because I love you, because I want better for you”

“You can’t tell me to leave and expect me to stay away, because I won’t” y/n told him “I’m staying with you, Jug. I gave you my heart a long time ago, and you’re always going to have it”

“What did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life?” he asked her softly, his thumbs stroking her damp cheeks.

“You deserve the world, Jughead” she told him and he smiled a genuine smile as she leaned towards him. He held her tightly as they kissed, and he told himself that when the sun came up everything could change. Maybe this had been a dream, or maybe it was frighteningly real and she was really here in his arms.

Maybe he wasn’t good enough, but as long as she believed he was then that would have to do. He kissed her like it was their last kiss, and he held her like she was a part of him. But he was more a part of her, since every breath he took was hers, and the heart he had once owned now belonged to her entirely.

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