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honey-tongued-devil · 3 months ago

Note

i Beg you i mean BEG YOU to do more chubby person x jinx or vi or something BECAUSE IM LITERALLY FATTT and i love the hcs

DROP ANOTHER ONE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙇🏽‍♀️

[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time

The second request of the week. Honestly, as someone who isn't exactly slim, I write these headcanons for those who ask me but primarily for myself. Requests are open, as usual, I ask for your patience because English is not my first language. I'll leave you the link if you'd like to follow me on Bluesky (I'll be posting Arcane content there soon as well, i want to build a 'public' meanwhile).

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Jayce:

- Starting with the fact that this man is built like a wardrobe, and his clothes are already pretty roomy, he’s started buying even bigger shirts just to make sure you can borrow them, they’ll be oversized on you, and you’ll be happy.

- So when you’re at home watching a movie or cuddling in bed, he strokes your belly with a smile, pretending to be surprised.

- “Is that my shirt?”

- This himbo, who handles a hammer that weighs as much as a horse, means no arguments when it comes to cuddles: you’re sitting in his lap.

- And when things get a bit heated, he’ll hoist you up with your knees on his shoulders, pressing you against the wall just to flex his strength and remind you that it’s absolutely no problem for him.

- After the dirty deeds, expect him to bring you something to eat (and especially drink) in bed, and don’t expect to be able to say no.

Viktor:

- When you’re relaxing on the couch, it takes a moment to find a position that’s comfortable for both of you: usually, he sits upright with one leg stretched out, the other (his weaker one) draped over yours, and you either facing him or lying on your side with your head on his shoulder.

- The focus here isn’t on clothes, but blankets. They’re all queen-size, so the two of you can wrap yourselves up as comfortably as possible during cuddles without anyone getting cold.

- And when you stand up with one draped around you like a cape, he can’t help but chuckle and call you “Your Majesty.”

- As for clothes, you’d never think he’s clued in to your needs, but then you see the socks he buys for you both: to avoid any circulation issues, he only buys soft cotton and wool socks without elastic, so even at home, you always have cozy socks that match the season, like festive holiday ones.

- His secret move? Sliding his hands between your thighs when they’re cold, and playing with the little rolls there, pinching them when you’re cuddling.

- In your most intimate moments, he stops to kiss and nip at your thighs, leaving little constellations of marks that he traces over with his fingertips in the days that follow.

Ekko:

- Cuddle time is sacred.

- If he walks into the room and sees you sprawled comfortably on the bed waiting for him, a bomb alert goes off in his head: he shuts the door and runs to gather everything he might need.

- Water, snacks, extra blankets, anything he can think of.

- When he gets back and shuts the door behind him, he has a ridiculous grin on his face, warning you that he’s about to pounce with a playful growl, as if to show you just how much he wants to nibble you.

- Ekko is a huge fan of having your knees on his shoulders while you lie down, rubbing his cheek against your calf, and kissing it while you’re busy squirming.

- His favorite hobby? Getting his head caught between your thighs and becoming “deaf.”

- He’s always the big spoon because he has to protect you, hug you, and nestle his arms and hands into every soft spot.

- After any wild night, expect breakfast in bed and a hot bath waiting for you.

Vander:

- Zaun has a dreadful climate because the smog creates a thick layer of heat, but being underground and surrounded by cold materials, temperatures can drop sharply. So sometimes he shows up with a blanket, hands you a corner, and asks you to hold it for a moment.

- As soon as you take it, he calmly wraps it around you, picks you up, and carries you over to the fireplace, keeping you wrapped like a burrito on his lap while he enjoys his pipe for half an hour.

- Because of the cold, intimacy often happens right there in the living room, in front of the fire. Sometimes, he’ll give you the armchair and kneel in front of you, or you’ll both find yourselves on the rug.

- He’s a good lover, but don’t expect him to do much after expending all that energy at his age. On a good day, he’ll be a gentleman and carry you to bed; then it will your turn to cuddle and soothe him with gentle strokes as he enjoys them with his eyes closed.

- If it’s not a good day, he’ll pull the blanket over both of you and set the guard in front of the fire, resigning himself to the fact that you’ll be sleeping cuddled up either on the chair, the sofa, or even on the rug.

- In exchange, the next day, he’ll make it up to you with a long, hot bath and a massage.

Silco:

- This man has money, and he knows how to use it well.

- When the cold sets in Zaun, your bedroom becomes a place you’d never want to leave. Fur rugs are laid out on either side of the bed, soft, warm robes in matching colors appear in the closet, and if you want to stay in your den waiting for him while he works without freezing, you can even light the in-room fireplace.

- After he finishes his work, he washes up, dons his robe, and heads straight to bed, sometimes he doesn't even waiting, and begins going over his paperwork under the blankets while he absently strokes your shoulder or hair.

- If you complain enough, he’ll carefully gather up the papers, set them aside, and hover over you to kiss your neck and collarbones, sliding your robe aside so his lean, wiry body can press against yours.

- He’s incredibly gentle in everything he does, from how he touches to how he kisses or nibbles. Every movement makes you shiver, but he remains composed. Occasionally, between kisses, the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin, making you giggle; he then returns to your lips, asking for forgiveness before continuing his slow exploration.

- He’s the type for wine and a cozy dinner under the covers, a break for cuddles, and then back to work.

- If you protest that you’re eating too much, he’ll feed you himself—no time for nonsense (but always with a touch of tenderness).

Jinx:

- The most chaotic thing Jinx does is cross out or draw over posters that show people who are too skinny. They can’t make you insecure if you don’t see them, and any excuse for vandalism is a good one.

- With the cold setting in, her hideout transforms into a true nest: a heap of clothes and fabrics covered in blankets and throws to make everything softer and warmer.

- Jinx has cold feet, but it’s not her problem—it’s yours. She’ll press them against your stomach, your back, and if you react, it’ll only get worse.

- She’ll start laughing, and it’ll become personal. The only way to fight back is with tickling, but that would be a declaration of war.

- When you both finally calm down, she’ll wrap herself around you, clinging with her whole body, inhaling your scent deeply, and digging her fingers into your side.

- Don’t expect too much delicacy in intimate moments; if she needs you to move, she’ll grab and pull you into whatever position is most comfortable for her. She holds your legs up, and handles you like you’re her personal doll.

- For her, this is princess treatment; and the effort she’s putting in is what counts.

Vi:

- She buries her face in your chest, first and foremost. Feeling sad? Face in your chest. Happy? Face in your chest. Deep in thought? You guessed it—face in your chest.

- Her go-to stress reliever is squeezing your thighs and hips.

- During cuddles, she rests your head on her shoulder, strokes your back, kisses your forehead, and speaks softly.

- She always plays with your hair, and if it’s long enough, you’ll find small braids everywhere.

- When you’re cuddling in bed, she’ll either hold you close or be the little spoon herself, with one hand in yours and fingers intertwined.

- When things get more intimate, she becomes completely dependent on you, pressing her fingers so deeply into your skin that they leave marks, as if even that isn’t enough and she wants to be inside you, to reach into your very core.

- She never imposes anything; if you don’t feel like washing up, she’ll clean you up with a warm cloth, and if you don’t feel like getting up, she’ll carry you. Whatever you want, she’ll go along with it unconditionally.

- Occasionally, she’ll climb over you, propping herself on her arms, just to steal a flurry of kisses.

Caitlyn:

- Caitlyn can cook, and she will.

- Her way of cuddling starts at the table, with an evening set up like a royal banquet. Anything you like will be there, along with sweet and savory snacks, which, if there are leftovers, she’ll take to the coffee table or the bedroom so you can enjoy them later.

- There’s no rush; if you want to go for a walk or relax after eating, it’s fine by her—she just wants to be with you. She might ask a housekeeper for a bit of help, or she’ll clean up on her own while you get ready.

- If you lie down in bed, she’ll absolutely take the chance to gently knead your stomach like a cat, making you laugh but also helping you fall asleep rather quickly.

- She’s the ultimate big spoon, nestling her face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

- When things get more intimate, she loves to look you in the eyes while she touches you, so she can savor every reaction, every shiver, watching your body melt with every move she makes.

- She becomes mesmerized by the way your body ripples under her touch, like there’s an ocean beneath your skin.

Mel:

- The real issue with Mel is that the rich never have anything better to do, so morning, noon, and night, they’re constantly organizing events. Breakfast at a noble’s home, brunch with the councilors, and of course, everyone must dine together. Tea at five with the Kirammans is absolutely sacred, and dinner is a moment for sharing ideas.

- Intimacy is this strange, almost absurd thing, as though everything is designed to give you no second of solitude.

- But when she does find a moment, she sits down and signals you to come into her lap or rest against her, cuddling you, playing with your earlobes, and winding her fingers through your hair until your eyes cross.

- She prefers giving affection to receiving it, simply because it feels like the only way she truly knows how to show love.

- Only in the deepest intimacy does she allow herself to do less, to enjoy your presence lying with her, to let go of control.

- She adores the way your body moves artistically, like it follows lines painted in oil, and these are the few moments where she can fully admire you.

- She’s quite strict afterward. You must drink those two glasses of water, and as you get up, she’ll call for someone to change the sheets and make the bed, so by the time you’re done showering, everything is ready and perfect.

Sevika:

- Bluntly put? She works with the chem barons, who are mostly old, misogynistic men with monocles embedded in their skulls, grotesquely altered rats with spider-like mechanical limbs, a very interesting gang of women in latex with disturbing port attachments, people with mechanical noses that pump in toxic stuff directly, and other highly modified, not-so-pleasant characters.

- I mean, sure, you have every right to feel insecure, but when she tells you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, she’s being quite literal.

- Her delight in the fact that not only are you entirely flesh and blood but actually soft flesh is beyond words—she feels like she’s hit the jackpot with a premium relationship.

- There’s hardly a moment when she’s not touching you, holding your arms or cheeks in her hands, or kissing your skin.

- During cuddles, she prefers you on top of her, and if she’s calm and has enough time, she’ll even remove her arm.

- It’s a controversial choice, but she doesn’t want to be around you while wearing a weapon, and she doesn’t want you to see her the way she sees the chem barons. It’s almost a moral decision on her part.

- In bed, she can hold you easily with just one arm; she’s strong, it’s not an issue for her. But first and foremost, she wants to lie down with you, feel your soft arms, your chest, your waist where she can let herself sink in, and when you laugh because she’s tickling you, she kisses you.

- For her, the hardest part isn’t functioning with one less limb but letting herself appear calm, not on the defensive, even vulnerable.

- But she doesn’t regret it for a single second.

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xwritingdixonx · 1 year ago

Text

Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

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A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

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0mg-bird · 6 months ago

Text

Caught In The Rain ~ Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your date with Tyler gets spoiled when a storm rolls in, but there’s an upside to getting caught in the rain.

Warnings: Smut! And cursing

This was only your second date, but Tyler has been pining for you for a while. Sitting in the same booth in your section, he’d order the same thing and hang around the diner where you worked for too long. At first, you wanted nothing to do with his conceited energy, but after you finally got to know him a little better, you came around to the idea of having dinner with him.

The first date went well, the night was fun and romantic, and now as he picks you up to spend the day on his family property, you imagine it will be the same. He had everything planned, it would just be the two of you. You’d have lunch on the deck, you’d go horseback riding down to the creek and maybe have a few drinks.

So far, everything was going perfectly, it wasn’t until the two of you sat on the creek bed that trouble started to arise.

Tyler sat with his back against a tree, you laid between his long legs with your back to his chest. The two of you drank your beers while he told you a story from his bull riding days.

“I hit the mud pretty hard, I honestly thought I broke my back.” He said, letting his fingers brush through your hair.

A shiver ran through you at the intimate touch. “Wow, you have to be some kind of crazy in order to willingly get on an animal who wants to stomp you into the ground.” You say, trying not to focus on the heat flushing through you.

Tyler chuckles, the shake of his chest vibrates you. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that. My mama thought that when I gave up rodeo, she’d finally not have to worry about me, but then I told her I was gonna be a storm chaser and she about had a heart attack.”

You laugh as you bring the can to your lips, about to tell him something when the rumble of thunder in the distance catches your attention. The two of you look up to the once clear sky to see the way dark clouds roll in.

“Well, Mr Weatherman, that doesn’t look good to me.” You say, making him sigh.

“No, it doesn’t.”

You stand, immediately he misses your touch. “I don’t have my degree in meteorology or anything but it looks like we better head back.”

He follows suit. “There goes the day I had planned.”

He can’t help but feel utterly disappointed as the first few drops of rain come. You look to him in guidance.

“I take it you didn’t have ‘rain soaked evening’ on your list, huh?”

He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t exactly on my agenda.” Then, he urges the horse he was on to go a little faster. “Let’s go before we melt out here.”

Despite the two of you racing each other back to the barn, by the time you got there, the light drizzle had become a full on downpour. The two of you quickly untack the horses and put them back in their stalls. You stand at the large barn door and look at each other.

“Ready?” He asks you, taking in the way your wet hair falls in a perfectly messy way.

You bite your lip, then nod. “I’m ready when you are.”

He slowly reaches to grasp your hand, a spark goes through him as he sees the way it fits in his. “Alright, let’s hope we don’t drown on the way back to the house.”

You laugh, then tug him along with you as you brave the storm. Cold and thick water droplets pummel the two of you as you race back to shelter, thunder claps, making you shake in surprise. You can’t stop your giggle as you become soaked to the bone, Tyler quickly pulls open the screen door and urges you inside.

You shiver, dripping onto the hardwood floors. “That was brutal.” You say as your teeth chatter.

He pulls you into his arms, embracing you. “Jesus, you’re freezing, sweetheart.”

You nod feverishly, laying your head against his chest. “I feel you shaking too, cowboy, you aren’t fooling me.”

He pulls away, only to guide you up the stairs.

“Tyler, we’re dripping water everywhere.” You fuss.

“I’ll clean it up later, c’mon.”

In his bathroom, he hands you a fluffy towel. You take it gratefully and soak up the water caught in your hair. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re slightly out of breath still, too focused on drying your skin to notice the way Tyler is looking at you.

As he runs his own towel over his head, he takes in your form. Still shaking, eyes wide, clothes soggy, you look absolutely beautiful.

“I’m sorry the night’s ruined.” He tells you, making you look up at him finally.

His white t shirt is practically transparent now and it clings to his upper body deliciously. His hair looks darker and it lays against his forehead.

“The night isn’t ruined, I had a great time.” You smile.

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, staring deeply at each other before Tyler clears his throat. “You can let your boots dry in here.” He says, kicking off his own boots.

“Oh.” You blush at the way he moves past the moment so quickly. “Thanks.”

Once you’re out of your soggy shoes, he brings you into his bedroom as he searches for some clothes you can wear. The large window is covered in rain and flashes of lightning light up the room every once in a while.

“Here you go, you’ll warm up once you’re out of your wet stuff.” He hands you one of his t shirts and a pair of boxers, you take them with gratitude.

“Thank you.”

You look at the clothes in your hand, then to him, then to the door. When he gets the hint, he scrambles. “Right, sorry, sorry.”

He leaves the room, you hide your smile as you slowly shut the door. Tyler stands, trying not to be too perverted but he can’t help himself, he watches through the crack the door left when you didn’t shut it all the way. You peel your soaked shirt off and drop it to the floor, then un button your jeans. As you pull them down your legs, he takes in a deep breath.

There you stood, half naked in his bedroom.

The sight of you sent a rush of attraction through his body, his skin buzzed. He sees you pick up the shirt, then pause.

You turn, facing the door before stopping.

You knew he was right there on the other side of it, looking utterly perfect. Would he reject you? Would he tell you it’s too soon?

Your chest pumps up and down as you try to talk yourself out of it, but you can’t. You stalk to the door, pulling it open and there he was, already looking at you.

Without a word, he’s embracing you, one hand on your cheek, the other on your bare waist as he bruises his lips onto yours. You breathe him in, pulling him closer as he backs you into the room.

Kissing him was something you can’t believe you ever missed out on. He meets your motions perfectly, tilting his head to slot his mouth with yours. You groan, hands pulling at his wet t shirt. He pulls back, letting you take it off.

“Do you want this?” He asks, watching you look over his toned upper body.

You meet his starving eyes and nod. “I do.”

Immediately, he pulls his belt loose and unzips his jeans. You pull him back to you, lightly gasping as the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed. With light pressure, he pushes you to sit. Your greedy hands tug his jeans down his thighs, you continue to shake as you stare at him in just a pair of boxers.

“Are you shaking cause of the rain or because of me?” He asks, his hand burying in your hair.

“Both.” You look up at him with round eyes.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “We don’t have to.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I want it, Ty. I’m just a little…nervous.”

His brows furrow. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Looking down at you, asking for him, it makes his brain short circuit. He leans down, hands on either side of you, pressed into his mattress, his body movement urges you to scoot up the bed before he’s laying you flat. Hands in his hair, you get lost in the feeling of his tongue pressing against yours. Your eyes are heavy, but as he separates your thighs and slots himself between them, you’re on high alert.

Your knees cage his hips in, when he deepens the kiss further, you can feel the brush of his hard on against the growing heat between your legs. You lightly gasp, you didn’t want to admit it but the feel of him was intimidating.

Tyler pulls away, staring down at you with deep eyes. “I’m kind of grateful for the rain now, I wouldn’t have been able to get this close without it.” He says in a heavy tone. You sit up just a touch so he can unclasp your bra, then he’s pulling it off to join the other soggy clothes on the floor.

“How do you know that it’s all the rains fault?” You question, trying to sound coy but as his large hand palms your breast, your voice wavers and you fall back against the pillows.

Tyler grins at the reaction. “Would you have let me touch you like this if it had turned out to be a calm evening?” His mouth takes a moment to work down your neck.

“I’m sure the storm helps.” You groan, a strike of lightning illuminating the shape of him.

You watch his head as he dips to kiss over your breasts, hot and open mouthed kisses that have your skin aflame. He trails down your stomach, kissing just below your naval as he pulls at the lace of your underwear. He looks up at you, making sure what he’s doing is okay before he does it.

You watch his back flex, the low light painting him in such an artistic way. You squirm with anticipation, and when his fingers collect the arousal of your core, you can’t help but whimper. He curls his two fingers up your center, swiping perfectly at the bundle of nerves that longs for affection.

“Do you like this?” He asks, slowly pressing into your entrance.

“Yes.” You shutter. Clenching around his fingers, you can feel precisely the way he pumps his pointer and middle finger in and out of you, slowly at first. The action has you taking shallow breaths. “Don’t act like you’re going to break me.” You say, digging your heels into the mattress. “Show me what you want to do, Ty.”

He looks at you, searching your face for any doubt before curling his fingers with no warning. The noise you let out is shrewd and entirely a whine. He’s addicted, figuring out that he wants you to keep making those sounds. He does it again, hitting a perfect spot inside of you that makes you feel warm and your stomach fuzzy.

You grasp onto his wrist, keeping his hand in the position it’s in. “Keep doing it, it feels so good.”

Your eyes shut, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, making your moans come out muffled.

“Is it this easy for you to get unwound? Just a couple minutes of my fingers inside of you and you already want to cum?” He asks, leaning down to your ear. “I could listen to you pant all day, I wonder what it’ll sound like when I’m fully inside of you?”

His filthy words put an image in your head and immediately, there’s a knot forming in your stomach.

A loud clap of thunder echos around you, rumbling the room and you yelp at the shock of it, your hand grasps the back of his neck and your head turns to watch the window.

“Shhh, don’t be scared, pretty girl. Focus on me instead, how good my fingers are fucking you.” He coos to you, lightly kissing your temple and your cheek.

The mewls and moans are getting closer and heavier as you feel your peak form. When he pulls his soaked fingers from you, you don’t even have time to process before he’s focusing back on your clit.

Slow and with tasteful pressure, he runs the pads of his fingers in a circle over you. His mouth waters at the sight, it has him considering if the second date is too early to pin your hips down as he eats you out. He wants to see the look on your face as you drip down his chin, wants to fight for air as your thighs suffocate him.

That’ll have to come later because your chest heaves up and down and you dig your head into the pillow. “Tyler, wait, I’m going to finish.” You warn.

“Good, I want you to. C’mon, cum for me, show me how good this is making you feel.”

Your mouth hangs open. “So good, you’re making me feel so, so good.”

Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your body clench, then his name is falling from your lips as relief floods you. Tyler watches in awe, seeing the glow you have as you whimper, processing the pleasure you just went through.

“You did so good.” He praises, kissing your lips. “You warming up now?”

You nod. “Trust me, I’m warm.”

He chuckles, pulling your thighs forward to close any space between your dripping center and his boxers. Cautiously, he pulls the material down, a wet spot already on them from the precum that dripped from him. He sees the way your eyes widen, then he feels your warm grip on him as you stroke him up and down. The touch of your palm against his erected length makes his vision blurry for a moment.

“Make me yours, Ty.” You beg, eyes wide and still blown from the orgasm you just went through.

He groans, getting lost in the chills of pleasure. When he gains his composure, he’s pulling your grip from him and kissing you in a sweltering heat. You moan into his mouth.

“I’ll grab a condom.” He mutters, going to pull away.

You protest immediately. “No, I don’t want the condom. I’m on the pill, and I can trust you, right,” You say, desperate for his lips again.

“Of course you can, but are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, pulling him back towards you. “I want all of you, please.”

Your voice was so needy and it was just for him. Tyler nods, kissing your neck as he grips himself and guides to your entrance. At the first feeling of his tip brushing against your wetness, your thighs lock around his hips.

“Just breathe.” He coaches you, briefly looking at the storm outside before pushing his hips forward.

You lose your breath as he slowly enters your walls, he keeps going until he’s bottomed out and you feel the intrusion of him in an almost stinging way.

You groan, head falling back and you startle again at the thunder.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” Tyler states, slack jawed. He looks down at your expression. “You’re okay, take as long as you need, sweetheart.”

Your hands slide along his shoulders, you adjust and stretch around him perfectly. Swallowing thickly, you softly nod. “Okay, just start slow.”

He focuses on control, as he gently pulls out a few inches and lightly thrusts back in, your walls are welcoming him too well. It makes him feel intoxicated and it’s just getting started.

Your finger tips press into his skin, you slowly becoming more comfortable with the rhythm. Your little huffs tell Tyler you’re ready for more, so his hips adjust and he speeds up his movement.

“This is good, fuck, this is better than good.” You whine, hand slipping up into his hair.

“I’m trying not to cum too fast but you’re making it pretty hard, sweetheart.” He tells you before he hikes on of your legs up to wrap around his hips. You do the same with the other and at the slight change of position, you inhale sharply and grip his hair.

“Fuck, you’re so deep. Go harder, I want it.”

Your dirty words spin his mind dizzy, he does just what you say. Grunts leave him as he fucks into you, he kisses your sweet lips passionately. He wanted to give you it all, wanted to give you pleasure in any way you asked for it. The white lightening coming through the window paints your skin perfectly, as your chest heaves up off the mattress, he watches you like you’re in art form.

“You’re gorgeous.” He praises, sliding out of your dripping core.

Before you can protest or even miss him filling you up, he’s gripping your hip and instructing you to roll over. You hide your smirk, hungry for something new. You turn onto your stomach, then feel the way he pulls at your hips, pulling your ass up.

“You want it harder? Deeper? I’ll give it to you, darlin’. Whatever you want.” He says through bared teeth as he kneels behind you.

You gasp as he slips right back in, jerking into you.

The feeling of him deeply fucking you from behind is what has you heaving into the pillow. The change of angle is making your toes curl, he’s brushing against a spot inside of you that makes your skin feel hir, it starts a knot inside of you.

“You’re even gorgeous like this. Shit, I love the way you look, taking me so good.” He says, biting his bottom lip.

You turn, looking back at him as his big hands pull you back into him, trying to push you further to your downfall. The sounds the two of you make are crude and wet, you can barely even form sentences. Your breath quickens, your legs begin to wobble at the waves of pleasure crashing over you as he hits it perfectly and over and over. You haven’t been with many people, but by far, the way Tyler is making you feel is better than anything you’ve previously experienced. Your open mouthed moans are entirely whiny.

“I’m so close.” You hum out, gripping the pillow your face is pressed against to ground yourself.

Tyler curses behind you, suddenly burying himself deep inside you. “I’m right there too, sweetheart.” He huffs.

Your eyes screw shut, muscles contracting as the tip of your second orgasm comes. “Fuck, Tyler!” You cry, over stimulated by the way stutters in his movements and pushes deep inside of you.

His head falls back, you pulse around him as you finally reach your finish. Tyler grunts once more and moans as he finishes inside of you.

You let yourself collapse fully onto the bed, taking Tyler down with you. His weight is comforting on top of you as he catches his breath. After a moment, he slowly pushes off of you and slides out of you. You cry out quietly as pulls out.

“Shh, you’re alright.” He says, laying beside you.

He pushes your hair off your shoulder, then gently leans to kiss your warm skin. You turn onto your back, chest fluttering up and down. You gently reach to touch his face and smile wide.

“Kiss me.” You tell him.

“Yes ma’am.” He grins, closing the close proximity and gently kisses you, slow and sweet.

He tucks loose hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead when he pulls back. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch out the window, seeing the rain continue to fall. After a moment, Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel. You watch him with affection as he gently cleans the mess between your legs. He kisses your knee and then moves to pull his boxers back on.

Lying on his chest, your fingertips dance over his skin. “I’d say the rain made the date better.” You declare.

He lightly laughs. “Yeah, nothing ruined after all.”

#glen powell #twisters #twisters movie #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #glen powell character #smut #tyler owens smut

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froggibus · 8 months ago

Note

How about a pool day headcanons with Wally West?

Pool Party - Wally West

Genre: fluff/crack

Summary: how a pool day/night with your bf would go!

CW: established relationship, gn! reader, alcohol/drinking, brief mention of skin cancer, brief mention of drowning, Wally is a Dork™️

every time i get a Wally req 10 years is added to my life so thank you for this anon! hope you are having a great day (and summer!) i was way too excited to write this on my break also

this is part of our Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

THE MOST FUN EVER

even if he isn’t invited he WILL be there

he’s a huge party crasher ngl

brings so much booze for himself that people think it’s for the whole party (it’s not—just speedster metabolism)

he’ll share with you if you ask nicely tho

will throw you into the pool at least one (1) time

please pretend to drown just to make him feel like an asshole. please.

has dorky little aviator sunglasses so he can feel like a fighter pilot

he will be a lobster by the end of the day so PLEASE force him to wear sunscreen

“Pfft, babe, I don’t need that. I’m the Flash.”

“You can’t outrun skin cancer.”

however if YOU try to skip out on sunscreen he’ll literally force you to apply it

he will hold you down and rub it in for you or use his speed so you don’t notice

spends so much time in the pool that he’s practically waterlogged

literally only gets out to refill drinks or to shake water all over you like a dog

you’ll be minding your own business tanning or talking to your friends and your boyfriend comes over and drenches you like a golden retriever

has a dorky horse pool floaty that he named Bartholomew

would give his life for Bartholomew.

always knows when to refill your drink so you’ll always have a cocktail in your hand

he makes drinks STRONG (speedster metabolism)

like 99% alcohol, one spritz of juice STRONG

sometimes he forgets you do not share his insane tolerance and he will accidentally get you wasted

guards your drink when you go to the bathroom/in the pool and takes it SO seriously

even if he wears sunscreen he’s still gonna burn ngl (sorry to waste your time)

he WILL be a whiny baby about it for the two hours it takes for his burn to heal

if he gets drunk he will try to run across the water to show off

he WILL create a tidal wave so please do not let him

also tie his shoelaces together so he can’t drink and speed

he takes very good care of you when you’re drunk

secretly switches your drinks out for water and gaslights you about it

“What do you mean ‘watery’? I just tasted it and it’s super strong.”

no matter how late the party goes/early it ends, you will somehow be out till three am with him

every. single. time.

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | DC Masterlist

#wally west #wally west headcanons #wally west x reader #wally west x you #kid flash #kid flash x reader #kid flash Headcanons #the flash x reader #the flash x you #the flash #young Justice #young Justice headcanons #young justice x reader #young Justice x you #x reader #x you

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amethystwrytes · 3 months ago

Text

Safe (Part Eight)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Depiction of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 10K

AN: Just a friendly reminder to peep warnings on this story (and any story that offers them) just in case you see something that makes you uncomfortable that you'd like to avoid.

~ Part Eight ~ (Series M. List Here)

“That’s a strong heartbeat Ms. ___,” the doctor smiles and turns a dial on the machine. The quiet room fills with what sounds like galloping horses, “Everything looks fantastic. Let’s measure the sack, and I can tell you about how far along you are.”

The doctor turns the dial back down a bit, slides the ultrasound wand from your vagina which you appreciate, and clicks some things on the screen.

“When will we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Hyunjin asks excitedly.

The doctor smiles, “There are blood tests we can do near the end of the first trimester, but the anatomy scan won’t occur until Ms. ___ is about twenty-eight weeks along and right now…” the Doctor types something out on the keyboard, “she is only about ten weeks.”

The doctor clicks another button and a piece of paper slides out of the machine, she rips it off and hands it to you, “A picture of the baby,” she smiles.

“And everything looks okay?” you ask again, your fingertips gently caressing the paper in your hands.

“Yeah, right now everything looks wonderful. Did you want to schedule the blood tests in a few weeks to determine gender, and uhm,” she looks at the three of you, “we could also add DNA to the labs…”

“Excuse me?” Minhos voice gets darker and he narrows his eyes at the Doctor, you know that look and sit up quickly, squeezing his hand in yours.

“That won’t be necessary,” you smile politely, “Let’s just schedule whatever labs are required for me and to make sure the baby is healthy, but everything else can wait.”

The doctor gives you a nervous smile, “Right, okay then. Well, congratulations, again, and make sure to take your vitamins, drink plenty of water daily, and stay away from alcohol and the food items that are on the list that the nurse gave you, I’ll see you in about three more weeks.”

The doctor all but runs out of the room and you and Hyunjin look at Minho.

“What?” he asks, fingering the cuff of his sleeve as he stands.

“You need to behave in public,” you snort, removing the awful paper exam gown and grabbing your neatly folded clothes, “or I can’t bring you boys to my appointments. You scared that woman.”

“She crossed a line,” Minho points out, “If we wanted a DNA test we’d have asked for it.”

“I could wait for her in the lot, kill her after work,” Hyunjin teases, pantomiming himself choking her out with piano wire, and you smack his arm.

“Not helping!” you hiss.

“It was a shitty question,” he counters with a shrug.

“Okay maybe, yes, but we’re going to have to get used to weird questions and odd looks. I mean, look at us,” you gesture.

The room goes silent for a moment before the three of you start to giggle.

“I’ll be polite and forgiving,” Minho smiles, “for you.”

“Thank you.”

As the three of you are walking out into the lobby you hear a voice call your name.

“___?”

You turn and see Hanna, you worked with her in the Emergency Room at the hospital.

“Oh my god! It’s been ages,” she greets you with a hug.

“Hanna, how are you?”

“I’m good, I was about to go on a break and saw you,” she smiles. “Are you pregnant?”

“I, um, yes, I am,” you smile awkwardly. “Do you work here now?”

“Yeah, I switched from ER to Obstetrics, I was so tired of the drama at the hospital, I just wanted a better shift and to go home at 5pm,” she laughs, “but you! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you smile and you can feel her catching up to the moment, finally seeing the two men standing behind you. “Um, this is Lee Minho and Hwang Hyunjin.”

She looks between the two men, “Nice to meet you…both.”

“We really ought to be going,” you say.

“Well, we should catch up soon! Honestly, it’s like you disappeared into thin air. One night you were at work and the next the admins were saying you quit without notice, I mean…where did you go? Are you working anywhere?”

“No, I um…it’s like you said, I just got tired of the drama and the rough shifts and such.”

“So you’re not working at all?”

“I am, it’s just more of a private practice kind of gig,” you lie, sort of.

“Oh, well, you should give me a call sometime, my number’s still the same, I’d love to hear about it, and what you’ve been up to,” she eyes the two men again.

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nod, “take care okay!”

You don’t give her the time to respond before you quickly push through the glass doors and out into the parking lot.

Christopher waits for the three of you in the SUV. Hyunjin climbs into the passenger seat while Minho slides into the back with you.

“What was that?” he asks.

“What was what?” you reply as if you don’t know what he’s referring to.

“Why were you weird with your friend?”

“Was I?”

“Kitten,” Minho raises an eyebrow and gives you a stern look.

“I just…” you shake your head and shrug, “I’ve been average my whole life, just normal, and I’m not anymore. I nurse criminals back to health and I’m in a polyamorous relationship with two of them and also pregnant and I just don’t know how to explain that.”

“Are you ashamed?” he asks and while there is no defense or accusation in his tone, it still makes you feel guilty, uncomfortable.

“No, I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or what I’m doing but I also haven’t had to be in a position where I needed to explain it all, Hanna caught me off guard. That’s all,” you explain.

“Okay,” he nods, reaching across the seat to squeeze your hand, “I love you ___, I want you to be comfortable and happy, you know that, right?”

“Yes baby, I know.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“I had a meeting with Kim Namjoon today,” Minho says, sitting at the dining table, the entire group waiting intently for information. “He got a message from a realtor friend of his that Taehyung is about to close on some property, an abandoned sugar mill near the river.”

“Well, it’s no secret he knows that we found his storehouse location, I got shot for it,” Seungmin says, “Clearly he’s looking for a new place to hide all his goodies, including our guns.”

“Exactly,” Minho nods, “They close this coming Saturday, he’ll get the keys to the lot, and by Saturday night his shit and our weapons will be moved to a new location we’re not familiar with.”

“What do you want to do?” Hyunjin asks.

“How well do you all have the warehouse memorized?”

“We could all tattoo it on our asses from memory,” Changbin jokes.

“Then tonight we set a plan in stone, and tomorrow night, we do this shit. No more talking about it, we steal those fucking guns back, set Kim Taehyungs life on fire, and watch it burn to the ground.”

The room goes quiet and you lean back on the countertop, your fingers squeezing around the edge. This is actually going to happen. For weeks it’s just been a conversation, a recon mission, and an unrealized plan of action. You knew it was coming, and you knew it was coming quickly, but your skin still feels clammy, and your heart rate jumps as you think of the inevitable danger that’s now a mere twenty four hours away.

You don’t want to know any more. You kiss Minho on the cheek and squeeze Hyunjins shoulder as you make your way up the stairs to the bedroom. All you need to do is be ready, for what? You can’t really say. However you don’t need to know the gory details of how they plan to break into Taehyungs storehouse, who they plan to hurt, and how they intend to get out with the least amount of damage done to them if such a thing is possible. Hyunjin and Felix seemed to be certain that someone might die in attempting this, and your heart hurts contemplating that thought. Would it be Jeongin or Changbin or Felix? Maybe Seungmins stubborn ass, or sweet Jisung. God forbid Minho or Hyunjin, the very thought twists your insides apart.

No. No you can’t quite let yourself think about it. You decide to think about treatment only. As you slide into the soothing bath water you think about different types of stitches, trauma procedures, and what medications you might need at the ready. You won’t lose anyone, you can’t. You’re too deep in this to imagine losing any of these men you care about.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Then

It’s 6:50am and you just clocked out, walking out of the hospital into the dark parking lot, the sun not quite up yet, the sky a mixture of gray and dark clouds, indicating a storm is coming.

You take a deep breath and reach into your bag for your keys, walking into the maze of the lot toward your beat ass car.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, your keys falling to the ground with a clanky thud. You look at the man slinking up to you, hands in his pockets.

“Yes?” you respond hesitantly, gripping one of your keys between your index and middle fingers, ready to strike in case this person means to harm you.

“Do you work here?” he continues. You look at your ID badge hanging over your left shirt pocket, and the light pink scrubs you wear and stare at him.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, what I mean to ask is, are you like, a doctor or something?”

“I’m an RN,” you answer and he continues just blinking at you, “a nurse. Are you hurt?” you look at the man, who appears to be just fine.

“No, but my friend, he needs help,” the man replies, gesturing with his thumb behind him to some unseen distressed friend.

“The entrance to the Emergency Room is just straight ahead,” you turn and point from where you just came from, “The big red letters that say Emergency, you can’t miss them,” you say and turn back to your car.

“See, the thing is,” he takes another step towards you and you instinctively take a step back, “We can’t go inside.”

“Why can’t you go inside?”

“I can explain everything but my friend really needs your help,” he says.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you laugh, “Do you think I’m going to follow a strange man deep into this massive parking lot for you to throw me in a trunk or something?”

“No ma’am, please, I mean you absolutely no harm, and I’ll explain while we walk but my friend…he’s bad, alright? There’s blood everywhere and it won’t stop and I’m afraid he’s going to die but I cannot take him into the hospital or he definitely will.”

“This is the part of our conversation where I whip my phone out and call security dude, so either take your friend into the hospital or get lost, okay?” you scoff and twist your key into the lock of your car door.

“Miss….” the mans expression is pleading and you look at him, really look at him, the fear in his eyes and the worry, “Please. Please help us.”

You stand staring for a few seconds more then let out a windstorm of a sigh.

“Fine. I have an emergency first aid kit in my trunk, hold on,” you slam the drivers door and slink to the trunk, opening it quickly to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. “Lead the way then.”

You follow the man deeper into the lot, weaving in and out of car aisles.

“You said you’d explain? Why don’t you start with your name and what happened,” you demand.

“My name is Hwang Hyunjin, my friends name is Minho and there’s one other guy with us, Jisung,” he starts.

“Three against one, fantastic,” you deadpan.

“I promise we aren’t going to hurt you ma’am, my friend, Minho, he’s an important man and lots of people want him dead, if he goes into that hospital and someone recognizes him, well it could be dangerous for him and anyone near him, including your coworkers, okay?”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all Hwang Hyunjin,” you shake your head as he stops at the rear of a large black van. Oh great, you think.

“Please?” he opens the doors to reveal two men, one of them holding a dirty towel over a wound, the other man wincing in pain, struggling with breath and looking very, very injured.

“Shit,” you mutter, crawling into the van, nurse mode on and completely forgetting that this could all be a trap. Although, judging by the man writhing in pain before you, you think perhaps Hwang Hyunjin was telling the truth after all.

“What happened?” you ask the other two men.

“He was shot…”

Your eyes widen as you look around, what have you gotten yourself into?

“I see,” you clench your jaw and take a closer look at the wound. “Your name’s Minho?” you ask and the man with the wound, who seems to have just now noticed you, opens his dark eyes and nods.

“Okay Minho,” you say rummaging through your woefully lacking bag, “I’m going to have to run back into the hospital, I think this is outside the capacity of my little first aid bag. Is the bullet still inside or did it go through?” you ask.

“I believe it’s still inside but I’m not sure,” Hyunjin answers.

“I need to go get a GSW kit from the med room,” you back slowly away from the van and two of the three men look at you as if they expect you to come back with security. You ought to. Every security protocol that exists is being broken right now. You try not to think about it as you jog back toward the hospital.

“Forget something?” Seokjin, the emergency department guard, cocks his head toward you.

“Yes, um, in my locker,” you fake a chuckle as you glide by. You should tell him there’s a man in the parking lot trying to be treated outside the hospital, tell him that this man is obviously some kind of bad guy, yet for some reason you don’t.

The GSW kits are locked up with the other supplies in a nearby closet, and you can’t scan your ID because if or when someone realizes it’s missing they’ll be able to trace it to you. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one is watching as you pluck Sunni’s ID badge off the nurses desk - she always leaves it lying around. It’s wrong what you’re doing, stealing things under her name, but you push through the door, grab the kit and a few extra things, shove them into your backpack and head back out. Shift changes are always busy, the incoming staff doing their first rounds to get acclimated to new patients and their needs, so you go through completely undetected except by Seokjin, who doesn’t seem to care, and plays his Nintendo Switch at the lobby desk as he always does, just giving you a smile and a nod on your way out.

You run back toward the van and swing open the doors. Hyunjin looks thoroughly impressed that you are still alone and you ignore the appreciative smile that creeps across his face.

You put on some gloves and unzip the GSW bag.

You toss the kit to him, “I need to cut open his shirt, while I do this I need you to find some clamps - they look kind of like scissors but they have curved tips that look like pliers, I’ll need to use them to get the bullet out. I’ll also need a lot of gauze, probably every bit that’s in that bag.”

“Yes ma’am,” he starts rummaging while you work at getting Minhos shirt off of him.

“Clamps,” you command and hold your bloody hand out, he places them in your palm, “Okay Minho, I think I can see the bullet, but this is going to hurt, okay?” you grimace and press your lips together tightly as you shove the clamp into the wound, the bullet is deep but retrievable and Minho is surprisingly still as you fiddle around his insides with metal.

“Got it,” you drop the clamps, “Gauze, all of it,” you instruct and the two additional men start handing you piece after piece as you shove it into the gunshot wound to stop the blood loss.

“There should be an ace bandage and some surgical tape in there, get them,” you continue directing and the men continue following orders. You bite off some tape and place it over the packed gauze, then wrap the bandage around his torso. Finally, you take a breath.

“He’ll need to be seen by a physician,” you sit back on your legs, “This is a very sloppy fix but it’s the best I can do in the back of a van. He needs antibiotics, and someone to unpack that gauze and inspect the area, probably stitch up the wound - but he should make it until you can find someone to do that. Do not leave the gauze in more than four hours, he’ll need to be seen before that but I’ve bought you time to find someone you can trust.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin nods.

You crawl out of the van and he hands you your bag, but you shake your head, “Keep it, and you’re welcome.”

“We need to get out of here,” the other man, Jisung, says and Hyunjin nods.

“Get him seen immediately, don’t wait, there’s an emergency rural clinic in Nayeong, it’s about a two and a half hour drive but it’s a tiny, sleepy town where no one’s going to ask a lot of questions. Plus, if he hasn’t had his license revoked, the old doc that runs the clinic should be pretty easy to buy silence from, as long as he can get his liquor at the end of the day,” you share and Hwang Hyunjin smiles at you.

“What about your silence?” he asks, “Can that be bought?”

You shake your head, “I could get fired for what just happened, it breaks every protocol we have here, but I won’t say a word as long as you never come back to this hospital, I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me? Keep whatever dangerous shit you all are wrapped up in far away from here.”

“You got it Doll,” he smiles then slams the van door and slinks around to disappear into the passenger side.

You let out a shaky breath as you watch them drive off, realizing for the first time just how scared you’d been. You gather yourself for a moment then go back to your own car, you’ll go home and wash - no, burn - these scrubs that are now covered in blood, you’ll take a hot shower and you’ll go to sleep and forget about the three criminals you just assisted. In eleven hours you’ll have to be back here like it never happened.

The next morning, you should have seen it coming, should’ve known that there would be a man propped up against your car waiting for you. This time it’s Minho, the man you removed a bullet from. A small part of you is relieved to see he is up, standing, and looking decently okay though you can tell he’s sore by the way he stands with his hand pressed to his lower left side. The rest of you however, is just plain mad.

“I told you not to come back here,” you frown.

“Well, yes, but technically you were speaking to my guy,” he smirks.

“Oh, well I am so sorry for the confusion,” you roll your eyes, “but I meant all of you need to stay far, far away. Now, leave me alone before I get into actual trouble.”

“I only wanted to say thank you-,”

“You’re welcome!” you snap, “Now leave.”

“I like you,” he sucks at his lip and grins with amusement, “I wasn’t sure, but you have quite a bite to you, and now I’m certain.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

You snort, “Not interested.”

He moves his arm and slides an envelope out from underneath his jacket then hands it to you, “Reconsider.”

You open the flap and peer inside. Money. Several stacks of money. In fact, you’ve never seen this much cash in person in your entire life. It makes your mouth go dry and you quickly close the flap and tightly clutch the envelope in your fists.

“What the Hell?” you seethe.

“That’s just my payment for yesterday, a simple Thank You. However, if you agree to come work for me, I can guarantee that kind of money regularly and promise that you’ll never want for anything ever again.”

You look at the envelope then back at him.

“I’m not a criminal,” you say.

“I’m not asking you to be a criminal, Kitten. I’m asking you to continue what you already do, just at a much higher pay rate,” he smiles.

“And what else?” you raise a brow, “Because if memory serves me right, when you make a deal with the Devil it always comes with a price.”

He shrugs, “All I’d ask of you in return is your silence, to keep what you hear and see a secret. To be someone I can trust, that’s all.”

You shake your head, “I have a job, I don’t need your money,” you extend the envelope back to him.

“Liar.”

“Pardon me?”

“You need that money, ___. You have over eighty thousand in student loan debt, you’re behind on nearly all of your utility payments, if you’re late one more time with rent your landlord has threatened to evict you, and no offense but this car looks like it’s one winter away from completely breaking down.”

“How the Hell do you know all that?” you fume.

“I always do background checks on my employees,” he smiles. “I’m not going to sit here and force you into anything, but I cannot tell you how beneficial it would be for me to have a medical professional on standby. It would help protect my guys tremendously.”

“I’m just a nurse,” you tell him, “I’m not a surgeon or anything like that. I don’t know how useful I can be for you.”

“Why underestimate yourself, Kitten? You saved my life yesterday morning, you knew exactly what to do, and the only reason you sent us to the rural clinic is because you didn’t have the resources to finish the job. I can get you those resources, I can get you anything you ask for.”

“How much are we talking, pay scale I mean?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“You’ll get a black card with your name on it and unlimited credit, I’ll place you in one of my safe houses on the edge of the city, a beautiful home in an expensive neighborhood, I’ll also give you a car - you can select it or I can take a wild guess at what you like - and I’ll pay out your lease, your student loans, your utilities and get all your affairs taken care of for you so all you have to do is give the hospital notice and show up at this address when you’re ready,” he hands you a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it.

“Just like that? I agree to work for you, I quit my job, and you just make all my problems go away?”

“Just like that.”

“Do you do bad things?” you look at him, “I need to know.”

He takes a calm breath and nods, “Yes. I do bad things.”

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I work in certain…legal gray areas…but I’m afraid if you want to know the details then you’ll have to agree to our arrangement first,” he explains.

“If I decide I don’t like it? What happens to me then?”

“We’d have to cross that bridge when we come to it, Kitten.”

Great, how very reassuring.

“If I say no?”

“Then you say no, you can keep that envelope of cash and put it toward your debt, and you’ll never see me again.”

You can’t quite explain why the thought of never seeing him again is disappointing. All he wants is for you to nurse wounds. He’s not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t be doing anyway. Yet a heavy feeling sinks into your stomach, like perhaps this is all a mistake. You choose to ignore it though.

“Okay,” you nod.

He raises a brow, “Okay…what?”

“I’ll work for you.”

“You don’t want to think about it?” he grins.

“If I think about it I’ll decline,” you shrug, “I’ll call my supervisor when I get home, she should be settling into her office by the time I get there. I’ll be at this address tomorrow morning at 9am.”

“Wow. I did not think it would be that easy,” he laughs.

“I’m not a bad person, I don’t do bad things, but I’m tired of living the way I have been,” you admit.

“I know you’re not a bad person, I knew that the second you crawled into that van yesterday,” he agrees. “But good, I’m glad you accepted. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m kind of scared of you,” you call to him as he trots off.

He turns, a smile on his face, “You kind of should be, Kitten.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Any word yet?” you walk into the living room where Christopher paces back and forth.

“Nothing yet,” he shakes his head, looking at his phone for good measure.

It’s nearly 1:30am. Minho, Hyunjin and the rest left around nine o’clock. Four and a half hours of radio silence. Four and a half hours of not knowing if they’re okay.

You sit in the arm chair, the same one Minho sat in the night he watched Hyunjin fuck you on the couch. The corners of your lips twitch into a tiny, satisfied smile but soon turn back into a frown, will he ever sit in this chair again? You screw your eyes shut and try to destroy that thought, cast it out of your head and burn it with fire.

The time seems to pass at an alarmingly and unnaturally slow pace. You just sit, silently listening to the ticking of the wall clock, occasionally watching Christopher pace, then sit and rub his legs with his palms, only to stand up and start pacing again. You get it, so you don’t scold him, but it is grating on your nerves.

“Should we call someone?” you ask, knowing what the answer is but hoping Christopher is worried enough to break the rules.

“No, if we call in the middle of something we compromise everything. We wait, someone will call when there’s something to call about,” he says.

You nod, accepting, but hating this answer.

“What if it was a trap? Or what if the police got them? Or…”

“Stop it ___. You’re not helping anything,” he huffs.

“It’s been almost six hours now,” you point out, trying to keep your bottom lip from trembling, fighting back tears.

“I know but we can’t-,”

Christophers voice is cut off by tires squealing into the driveway. You get up and practically sprint to the front door before Chris pulls you back, his weapon drawn just in case.

You wait eagerly, listening to the sound of car doors slamming and quick footsteps, your skin practically vibrates with nauseous anticipation.

Minho bursts through the door first, he blows right past Christopher and rushes you, his arms coming around you tightly. You’re about to ask where Hyunjin is but you see him follow close behind, greeting you the same way and the three of you stand there in an embrace for a few moments.

“Is everything…” you trail off, not sure what to ask first.

“Everything is fine now baby,” he tilts your chin up and kisses your lips.

“Everyone made it out?” you continue.

“Everyone made it out, not a scratch,” he grins, and you think you might see happy tears glossing his eyes.

“Just like that?” you say, practically in disbelief.

“Just like that.”

“Taehyung is ruined,” Hyunjin grins, lighting a cigarette and opening a nearby window, “We got our guns back, his heroin is burning even as we speak and if that wasn’t enough, just like our warehouse explosion attracted investigators, his will too, except this time they’ll find the remnants of so much heroin that all eyes will shift to Taehyung, no one will give a flying fuck about us, at least for a long time.”

“Is Taehyung…dead?” you wonder.

“No,” Minho shakes his head, “but I bet he wishes he was, and that’s good enough for me.”

“He won’t retaliate?” you don’t believe that someone like Taehyung would just roll over and take it.

“I don’t see how he could,” Minho shakes his head, “The bastard is going to have to go into hiding, if he even so much as walks into daylight investigators will be on him so fast he’ll be in a prison cell by the time he draws a breath.”

“So, it’s just…over?”

“For now, yes. It’s over. Kim Taehyung loses.”

Something doesn’t feel right, but you decide not to worry about it. Everyone seems so celebratory, opening bottles of expensive liquor and laughing. A win is a win, and they desperately needed a win.

You spectate for a while, smiling at the ease and happiness in the room. You feel a sense of pride, which is something you’d never imagine yourself feeling for these men. You retreat upstairs, tired from worrying and coming down from the adrenaline rush.

You’re not necessarily surprised when you hear Hyunjin slip into the bedroom and you watch in the darkness as he strips himself of his clothes and slides in with you, his body pressing against yours, his hands sliding underneath your tee shirt, palming one of your breasts.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, rolling you onto your back so he can fit his fingers snugly against your cunt. You moan into his mouth as he pushes into you, twisting and pushing you to pleasure.

“I love you too,” you say, taking his face between your hands, you throw your leg over his hip to give him better access.

The door opens again and Minho stares through the darkness.

“Well, I feel left out,” he huffs playfully, locking the door behind him. He begins to remove his clothes as he walks around to slide into the other side of the bed.

“Just a warm up Boss,” Hyunjin whispers, leaning over you to capture Minhos mouth with his own.

The warmth you feel in your heart, in your very bones is like nothing you could ever experience anywhere else. Safe between them both, surrounded by passion and love and heat.

“Fuck me,” you rasp against Minhos mouth and he slides between your legs, granting your wish while Hyunjin worships your sensitive nipples.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you both so much, fuck,” you moan.

The danger is gone, and the three of you relish in the relief until the sky turns a light gray color, taking turns touching and kissing and fucking, cat napping between. It’s perfect, you think, everything is perfect now.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Fuck me, has anyone heard from Kim Seungmin for Gods sake?” Minho grumbles loudly as he walks through the kitchen.

“I think he’s been holed up with that girl he met,” Hyunjin answers, setting his pencil down on top of his sketchpad.

“What girl?”

“Who knows, with Seungmin it’s a new girl every month,” Hyunjin chuckles, “Why? What’s got your panties in such a twist?”

“He and Jisung are supposed to be delivering the guns to the Min organization in one hour and he’s not answering his fucking phone,” Minho explains.

“Get Felix to go, or Christopher - it’s high time he starts doing a bit more than just driving everyone around, let Seungmin have his fun,” Hyunjin waves him off.

“He really does need all the sex he can get,” you laugh, “the man is a total ass most of the time, anything to soften that blow.”

“You two are making me soft, I swear to God,” Minho complains, “but fine. Chris can help with the delivery and Seungmin can continue getting his dick wet to spare us all of his nasty attitude.”

“What time do we need to be at the Park meeting?” Hyunjin asks.

“We should have left twenty minutes ago,” Minho sighs, “Will you be alright? Here alone?” he looks at you.

“Yes, I need to organize some things, and I’ll probably just take a bubble bath and go to bed scrolling through baby registry items,” you smile.

It’s been over a month since anyone heard from Kim Taehyung, with most believing he fled the country to avoid detection from investigators. His name and footage of his warehouse burning had been on the news for weeks, but no information had turned up. Kim Taehyung isn’t coming back anytime soon.

“Okay, our phones will be on silent during the meeting, but text us as soon as you lay down, alright Love?” Minho kisses your cheek and you nod.

“I will, I love you both, be careful.”

Hyunjin kisses the top of your head, “Always Doll.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You’re scrolling through Pinterest for nursery ideas when your screen is interrupted by a text.

Hurt bad, need help at the old warehouse -KSM

You narrow your eyes, opening the number and pressing the call button. It rings, rings and rings until you get to the voicemail. Kim Seungmin. You know what to do. BEEP.

“Hey, what’s going on? Call me back…”

You hang up the phone and wait. Five minutes turns into ten minutes turns into fifteen. You’re starting to get nervous when your phone pings with another message.

It’s not safe to talk. I’m at the warehouse and need help. I can’t move myself.

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Seungmin knows better than this, and you think he must be really fucked up if he’s asking this of you.

You open up the message again, On my way.

You get dressed and grab a bag, stuffing random supplies in.

Before you go you call Minho, it goes to voicemail, which is probably a good thing because he might actually kill you for doing what you’re about to do but something in your gut is telling you that Seungmin needs you. So you leave him a message telling him what happened and where you’re going. For good measure you leave Hyunjin a voicemail too. Then you load up the car and start driving.

Seungmins truck is parked in front of the burnt and disheveled remains of the warehouse. The drivers side door is open, the interior light is on and you can see blood spatter all over the inside of the door. Your skin erupts in chills and you scream when your phone starts ringing. Minho.

“Hello?” you answer breathlessly.

“Where the fuck are you? And you better not say at that fucking warehouse!” Minhos voice is angry.

“I am,” you answer softly, still staring at Seungmins truck.

“Fuck!” Minho yells into the phone.

“Baby somethings wrong,” you say.

“What? Is Seungmin there with you?” his voice is suddenly laced with fear under all that steely ice.

“His truck is here, but I don’t see him, I just pulled up,” you answer, “I think he’s inside, but there’s blood all over the inside of his truck,” you tell him.

“Do not go into that building, do you hear me? Hyunjin and I are on our way, for fucks sake please baby don’t go inside without us,” he pleads.

“I need to find Seungmin,” you say defiantly, “Something is clearly wrong.”

“No!” he bellows, “Do not go in there without backup. Do you hear me? ___?”

“I hear you!” you finally yell back and hang up the phone. “But just because I heard you doesn’t mean I have to listen,” you whisper. You toss your phone into the passenger seat and grab your first aid bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you approach the broken and tattered entrance.

“Seungmin?” you look around at the burnt debris. Why the fuck would he come here? It’s an utter mess.

“Seungmin! Where are you?” you hiss into the darkness.

You hear a gargled cough from another room and follow it, your blood pressure steadily rising. Something isn’t right.

When you enter the room you can smell the blood. You scan the room twice before you see it, the lump of a body laying in the far corner.

“Oh my god…”

You rush to him, falling to your knees, your bag thumping on the ground next to you. He’s been shot, multiple times, a pool of blood underneath him. He’s pale, God he’s so pale.

“Seun…Seungmin?” you tap the side of his face, tears stinging your eyes. His lids slowly open and he looks up at you. Something changes, you see fear.

“No…” he shakes his head back and forth, which seems to expend all of his energy, “Why did you come…why did…” he coughs again, bright red blood sputtering from his mouth, hitting your tee shirt and your arms.

“Oh God, Seungmin, what did they do?” you look at his abdomen, his chest - riddled with bullet wounds. Your blood runs absolutely cold, your very spirit leaves your soul.

You cannot fix this. No one could.

“Am I?” he looks up at you. Am I going to die? That’s what he’s asking, and yes, he is. You clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying. Don’t cry.

You smile, lean down and smooth his hair off his forehead, “No. You’re fine, you’re going to be just fine Seungmin. Soon you and I will be bickering over something or another,” you laugh, continuing to pet his hair with your fingers.

He nods, but his eyes scrunch up and tears flood down the sides of his face, into his hairline. He doesn’t believe you, they never do, but he’ll play along to make it easier, and that’s what you’re here for now.

“You know,” you say, twirling his hair, “Minho and Hyunjin make a good team, but he was wrong about one thing,” you smile, “Hyunjin isn’t the best he’s got, you are. You’re the best soldier Minho has, and he’s hard on you because he knows it’s true.”

“No….shit…” Seungmin chuckles, and so do you. You stretch your tee shirt out to wipe the blood that seeped from his mouth from his efforts.

“They’ll be here soon, okay? Can you wait with me?” you ask softly.

At this Seungmin becomes alarmed, his eyes widening and head shaking back and forth frantically.

“Hey, calm down, be still…”

“Get out…you have to…not alone…” he rasps, his words garbled from blood.

“Seungmin…you’re not alone honey, you’re not alone, shhh,” you soothe.

He shakes his head again and tries to say the words, he tries so hard and you wait, you will his lips to speak, but instead the light fades from his eyes and his body goes still.

“Seungmin?”

You sit there for several seconds silently, your fingers still smoothing his hair, and then you sob. You press your forehead against his and sob, scream, and cry until your whole body hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you wail, your body heaving with cries. “I’m so sorry!” and you’re not sure if you’re sorry because you couldn’t save him, sorry because of the way you’ve spoken to him in the past, or sorry that any of this ever happened at all.

“___?”

Minhos voice is shaky as you look up from Seungmins lifeless body.

“Hyunjin is doing a perimeter-,” Minho takes a step forward but stops when he sees Seungmin laying there. He covers his mouth and he turns his body away as if he can’t bear to look, then he turns around again rushing over and dropping to his knees.

“Fuck,” Minho gasps, he strokes Seungmins face with the back of his trembling fingers, grabs Seungmins hand in his. “Fuck…” he sobs.

“I couldn’t…” you cry, unable to finish the sentence. “Minho I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

The voice doesn’t belong to Minho, and before you can really process this fact, someone is pulling you up off the floor by your hair.

The smell of burnt ashes, wet cigarettes and pathetic overwhelms your nostrils nearly to the point of gagging.

Kim Taehyung. Seungmin wasn’t trying to tell you he didn’t want to be alone, he was trying to tell you that the two of you were not alone. You suspect it also wasn’t Seungmin who texted you. You’ve been baited and you walked right into the trap.

Minho is up like a shot, the gun he keeps strapped to his ankle pointed at Taehyung.

“Nu-uh-uh,” you hear Taehyung growl, feel the cold hard metal of a gun barrel flush against your temple. “Set it down or I swear to God the last thing I do is blow this bitches brains all over the place,” he tells Minho and you choke out another sob. “Set it down!” he yells, the very walls reverberating from his anger.

Minho grimaces, but bends over to set the pistol on the ground.

“Kick it across the room,” Taehyung continues, “NOW!”

Angry, Minho kicks the pistol and the three of you watch it spin over the concrete floor across the space.

“What are you doing Taehyung? What do you want? It’s over,” Minho lifts his hands up.

“It is,” Taehyung spits, “It is over. It’s over for me, but I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” Minho seethes.

“One thing I’m better at than you Lee is taking,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, “You take things, my Heroin for example, and that’s good, good job, but I take your fucking life, no…I take your fucking will to live. Just like with Seola, except this time you get to watch.”

Taehyung cocks the gun against your head and you shudder.

“I’m pregnant!” you scream in a last ditch effort to find a shred of humanity inside this monster.

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung rasps against your ear, “Congratulations.”

He drags the barrel of the gun from your head, down between your shoulders, and stops at the small of your back, “Maybe let’s blow your belly out first then?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Taehyung!” Minho screams, “Just kill me.”

Your head snaps up to look at Minho and you can feel Taehyung smiling with glee.

“Kill me you fucking pathetic piece of shit! That’s your end goal, always has been, so just fucking do it you worthless son of a bitch! I’m so fucking tired of this…”

“Stop!” you cry.

“I want you to suffer,” Taehyung growls, you can feel his head shaking back and forth, “I want you to watch her die and know that it never would’ve happened if you’d left her alone, that it’s because of you she’s standing in this fucking room!”

“I love you baby, I love you Lee Minho,” you cry, looking at him.

“Say goodbye to her Minho, say it,” Taehyung urges.

“I don’t fucking think so!”

Hyunjin yells from the doorway, loaded gun pointed in your direction.

Too many things happen at once. You can hear gunshots going off like firecrackers, you hear Minho scream something so loudly it somehow overpowers the crack of bullets flying. You end up on your knees with your hands over your ears until you see the gun Taehyung was holding drop beside you on the ground. You risk permanent deafness pulling your hands away to scramble for it and you get it, snatching it from Taehyungs reach a mere half second before his fingers land.

You have no time to think about Hyunjins training session at the gun range, you point the barrel at Taehyungs face and pull the trigger. You can feel warm, wet pieces of matter that you refuse to look at or acknowledge hit the front of your body and you don’t need to look twice to know Taehyung is gone.

Taking the gun you scramble over, falling several times because you can’t seem to control your body anymore, towards Hyunjin and Minho. The smell of flesh and gunpowder and death everywhere.

Hyunjin sits on his knees, his body trembles, pupils so blown out he looks like he’s on drugs, “He saved me…he saved me…stupid mother fucker…stupid…” Hyunjins face distorts into a look of such pain that there are no words to describe it, and then he screams.

“No, no, no,” you shake your head and leap onto Minho, who is being too still, turning him over from his side to his back. Just like Seungmin, Minhos chest is riddled with bullets, one right through his heart.

“No. No, he’s got a vest. He’s got a vest…” you start ripping off his shirt, already soaked with blood, it coats your fingers causing them to slip over the smooth buttons. “No, no, no.”

“There wasn’t time…” Hyunjin chokes. “We didn’t have time he said…there’s no time…”

You press your fingers against his neck and feel no pulse, then against his wrist…still nothing.

“Wake up baby, wake up,” you beg, you smack his face and shake his shoulders, “WAKE THE FUCK UP!!” you scream so loud it rips your throat to shreds. “Please!”

The life is gone from his eyes as they stare at nothing and you start to lose it. You can’t breathe, and all you can do is whimper.

“He jumped in front of me,” Hyunjin repeats, sobbing as he grabs Minhos face in his hands. “Why would you do that…stupid…” he cries, his tears dripping off of his own face onto Minhos.

“Call an ambulance,” you command through gritted teeth, you get up on your knees and press the heel of your palm into his chest and pump.

“Baby…” Hyunjin sobs.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” you scream hoarsely, counting time in your head. You ignore the sinking feeling you’ve had so many times as a nurse, ignore the fact that if you were in the ER right now, looking at anyone other than someone you love, you’d be waiting for the physician to call the time. You ignore everything.

“He’s gone ___,” Hyunjin cries, placing his hand over yours.

“No!” you scream.

You didn’t get tricked into coming here. You didn’t just sit with Seungmin while he died. You didn’t just blow Kim Taehyungs face off and Minho isn’t dead.

You repeat it over and over.

“He’s gone,” Hyunjin says, crawling over to you, “He’s gone.”

You scream into Hyunjins chest as your body shudders with sobs.

He’s gone.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Come on hun, you two need to get out of here.”

It’s Felix. You look up into his big eyes, swollen and red with his own tears.

You look down, Hyunjin lays next to Minho quietly sobbing into the floor.

“We need to get you out of here sweetheart,” Felix places his hand on your shoulder but you push it off slowly with your fingers.

“Please,” Felix sniffles, “We’ve got to get everyone out of here,” he looks around and shudders with new tears, “all of you.”

You crawl across the floor, through the blood, and lean over Minho. You pick the weight of his arm up, cup his hand to your face and lean into it like you do so often. The lack of warmth from his skin brings on a new set of painful sobs.

“I love you,” you whimper. “I don’t want to go anywhere, not without you.”

“Get them out,” Changbin tells Felix and the others, trying to steady his voice, “Get them home. Pick them up if you have to.”

You can feel Felix look at you but he decides to try his luck with Hyunjin instead. Instead it’s Christopher who kneels in front of you, wipes his nose with the back of his arm.

“Come on, it’s time,” he tucks his arm under your knees and braces your back while he lifts you up.

“I couldn’t save him,” you weep into the crook of his neck.

“You were never going to save him sweetheart, he never wanted to be saved.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Miss ___?”

Through the blur of people you look up to see Kim Namjoon approaching you. You sip your water, wishing it was whiskey, but you’re still pregnant despite your mind, body and spirit being completely broken. Somehow the baby made it through the trauma and it’s your job to take care of him. Him. You can’t really say how you know, but you do.

“Mr. Kim, thank you for coming,” you force a smile, smoothing out the skirt of your black dress.

“Of course,” Namjoon clears his throat, “Lee was a friend, I’m so sorry that we’ve lost him.”

Lost isn’t good enough, you think. Lost things can be found. What you feel is so much greater than loss, you feel erased. Annihilated. You feel nothing.

“Uh,” Mr. Kim sits in the chair next to you and you realize you’ve been silent for several moments, “Minho asked me to give you this, he left it to you.”

He pulls a white envelope from the inside of his jacket and hands it to you. It feels heavy in your hands and you look at Namjoon with confusion.

“We weren’t married, I’m not owed anything,” you glance over at Changbin and the rest of Minhos loyal men, “whatever he’s left should be divided between them.”

“No you misunderstand, this isn’t something he gave to me as a client to a lawyer, it’s not a will. This is something he gave to me as a friend and asked me to hold it for safekeeping, but to make sure you received it if anything were to happen to him.”

“What is it?” you ask, running your fingertip over the edges of the envelope.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, “He didn’t tell me to look at it, just told me to keep it safe for you. There’s something heavy in it though, a trinket or something? I’m not sure.”

Namjoon stands and gives you a sympathetic smile, “I’m truly sorry, he loved you very much Miss ___, I hope you knew that.”

“I did,” you say but the words get lost on your lips, turning into a raspy whisper as your throat begins to swell with a sob, “Excuse me.”

You clutch the envelope to your chest and retreat from the room, briefly making eye contact with Hyunjin, who is about as sociable at this funeral as you are, which is to say not at all. You can feel him following close behind.

“You okay?” he asks when you end up in an empty sitting area near the back of the funeral parlor.

“No,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your cries.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, a gesture that used to put you at total ease, but now it feels lacking, like Minho was a necessary piece to a three part puzzle. A piece that’s been destroyed so the puzzle can never really be whole again.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hyunjin says with no explanation, and you don’t know what exactly he means by it. He doesn’t know what to do with you? With himself? Or what to do about anything at all? Same, you think.

“I miss him too much,” you cry into his shoulder. None of this feels real.

“I know,” Hyunjin chokes on a sob, “I know baby, me too.”

The envelope, still clutched to your chest crunches between the two of you.

“What is that?” he sniffs, looking at the paper.

“I don’t know, Namjoon said Minho wanted me to have it in case…well…”

You sit on a chair and push your finger under the flap, ripping the paper.

A key falls out of the envelope into your hand as you pluck a letter out.

Hey Kitten,

You promised you’d keep Scotland in the back of your mind, right? I don’t want to go anywhere without you either, but just in case we do have to be apart, I want to know that you, Hyunjin, and our baby are all safe. If you’re reading this, I guess it means I can’t come with you, but you deserve to start over, you all deserve to live a normal life without safe houses, without guns or makeshift surgery centers. So go. Start over. I’m so sorry that I was broken when we met, but you patched me up baby, and I love you so much. Tell Hyunjin to take care of you, to keep drawing in that stupid book of his, and that I love him too. When the baby is old enough, tell them about me, okay? Tell them I loved them with my whole heart, and I’m sorry I can’t be there.

All my love,

Minho

“Scotland,” you whisper and hold the key over your heart.

“What?” Hyunjin looks at you bewildered, “What is all this?”

You wipe the tears off your cheeks, “It’s Minho. Keeping us safe one last time.”

Endnotes:

1. I cried writing the first draft of this ngl and kinda hated myself, then by like my third or fourth proof read I was like desensitized to it kinda? Anywho. I hope no one is legitimately angry with me😬😓 I promise this was my plan from the start and not a wild card draw. One more chapter left💙

2. Will tag my besties in the comments!! Here’s a virtual kiss 😘 and maybe also a virtual warm hug and sympathetic pat on the back? 🫂🫂🫂

#skz fanfiction #hyunjin fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #skz smut #hyunjin smut #Lee know smut #skz romance #lee know romance #hyunjin romance #hwang hyunjin #Lee Minho #skz x reader

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everythingelseisextra · 2 years ago

Text

Treasure The Memory

Part One: Everything Is Fine

Part Two: Commit To The Bit

Part Four: Petty Criminal

Description: A couple days after the hose incident, you find yourself feeling empty, and set off to find Thomas and apologize. Warnings: Language, alcohol Word Count: 2292 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @globetrotter28 @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Twelve horses. From six in the morning to six at night, you work without stopping. It’s your purpose, your drive, the only reason you have for getting up in the morning. The only reason you eat or drink. There’s an aching kind of emptiness that begins after the car drives away, that makes the time go by slowly while you work through the horses. Heaviness that pushes your muscles to work harder than usual, an odd sense of carrying something. But, still, you put your head down. You have work to do. You don’t have time to fantasize a life beyond what you trudge through. You don’t have time to imagine things had gone differently.

You don’t.

But on the second day after, the weight is the same. You wake before sunrise and find yourself expecting to see him watching you ride in silence again, observing. You fill buckets and clean stalls and turn out and all the while, the back of your mind stumbles off somewhere, looking for the dawn to break like it did two days ago, like some groundhog day. You were given a splash of color in the long span of gray, and now you can’t forget what it was like. Now you can’t stop yearning for the boldness, the attention.

That night, you lay in the twin bed shoved into the corner of a tiny room, and you stare at the night sky through the cracked window. Cool air caresses your face, and you sit up to look out. You see only the shadows of the barn and the void of the countryside, all-consuming darkness. Here, you think, is where everyone else’s ghosts come to haunt. Here is where the forgotten come to waste the rest of their lives. Here is where I will live, and here is where I will die.

No.

You stand up and walk the two steps to your wardrobe, pulling your clothes out and scrambling to put them on. Whatever you plan, whatever strange scheme, will present itself to you as you move. You can’t be like this forever. You can’t keep being fine, fine, fine, until you’re ready to go and all you can look back on is mediocrity. You can’t keep going out and waiting for someone to ask you who you are, what you’re about, whether you’re okay.

You need to be the one to ask.

You rush out to the barn. This late at night, no cabs will come to you, not when you’re so far out. Wired, almost manic with desperation, you halter your quickest horse, a mare named Secret, and forgo the saddle to ride bareback. The night is still young, and if you get there soon enough, get there fast enough, then maybe, maybe you’ll find him. Gripping your mare with your thighs, you cluck and urge her forward, loosening your reins and pushing your calves into her sides. She shoots off, and suddenly, you’re coursing through the night, the wind whipping your hair, the sound of hooves pounding the only thing you can hear.

The first few minutes, exhilaration runs through you, and you breathe in the wild rush of the darkness. Then you feel the cold, and the dryness waters your eyes, and your skin grows red and chapped from the constant battering of the wind. And still, Secret gallops, and you cling to her back and duck your head and clutch her mane in your shaking hands.

City lights blink softly at you through the mist of early night. You sit back and talk quietly to the mare, bringing her from a gallop to a canter, then to a trot, then, finally, to a heaving, breathless walk. Her sweat seeps into your pants, her fur covers the inside of your thighs, and your own sweat drips down your forehead. Still, you walk on, her hooves clattering on the stone streets. Eyes glint at you from alleyways. The city murmurs its quiet song. And, you, an interloper walking boldly into an unknown territory, hoping.

You remind yourself: hope is a thing with teeth.

The Garrison stands solemn in the darkness. The lights inside silhouette figures moving, dancing, banging their hands on tables and chairs. Tonight is Saturday night. Closing your eyes, you steady your breathing. Cold penetrates your bones and you find yourself trembling, coming and going in waves. You run your fingers through your hair, like it could be tamed, and slowly slip off the horse. You find an old hitching rail a few blocks away and tie her, offering her a bucket of water. You leave her there, in the dark side of the alleyway. You won’t be long.

When you open the double doors to the Garrison, you’re flooded with golden light and feral singing and warmth. You still tremble, but less so. The chills are chased away by the faultless sense of revelry in the air. You push through the crowded sitting area as though fighting your way down an overgrown path. Limbs swing into your way, people stamp their feet, and a rousing chorus starts up.

You stumble through to the bar and lean on it, facing towards the seating area. Men on tables, men dancing, men drunk and throwing up in buckets. Men howling like wolves, men grabbing their women, men cheering each other on. No sign of the man you came here looking for. Your heart sinks.

The barmaid laughs from behind the bar while she walks towards you. She leans over, smiling faintly. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m—” Your voice doesn’t carry; she leans closer to listen. “I’m looking for Thomas Shelby.”

She points immediately to a slim door, closed, but that opens into a small, octagonal room. “I wouldn’t interrupt.”

You hesitate. “Who’s he with?”

“His brothers.”

“Thank you.” You nod to her, then push through the drunken party to stand in front of the door. You breathe in whiskey and cigarette smoke and body odor, and breathe out. Then, cautiously, you knock.

If there’s a response, you don’t hear it. Throwing caution to the wind, you place your hand on the handle, take another breath, and push it open.

Three pairs of eyes stick to you; two angry, one surprised. You step inside and close the door behind you. Silence, so thick it seems to buzz with the energy of their gazes. From their seats behind the table, they look you up and down, and you’re suddenly in a spotlight, caught in the blindness. No one speaks.

The man on Thomas’ left breaks it. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes drop and you mouth the words; no one.

“I said,” The man stands awkwardly, scooting out from behind their table and approaching you. He’s considerably taller than you, leaning down to loom over, speaking far too close to your face. You catch the smell of whiskey and beer on his breath, and your eyes lock onto bits of food stuck in his mustache. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Enough, Arthur.” Thomas leans back in his seat, arms loosely crossed, a cigarette in one hand.

“I thought you hadn’t taken a woman since—”

“I haven’t.”

“Is this the one that sprayed you with the hose?” The man on his right grins at you. “My kind of girl.”

“Wouldn’t let someone spray me with a hose.” Arthur steps back, though you keep yourself shrunken away, a little too overwhelmed by what you’ve stepped into to unravel yet. “I’d knock ‘em out and spray ‘em meself.”

“That’s enough.” Thomas stands and walks out from behind the table, brushing past you to open the doors. The riotous sound of the bar fills the small space again, and you step away from the door, trying to get away from it. “John, Arthur, go join them.”

“No, I want to hear what hose-girl has to say.” The man still sitting, presumably John, stays sitting, eyes going straight to Thomas’. “I’m staying.”

“John.” Thomas’ head tilts slightly, his eyes flicking to you, then back. “Get out.”

John looks at him a moment longer, smile fading, then shrugs, stands, and walks out. Arthur follows. Thomas closes the door after them, and you close your eyes, relieved by the quiet.

“Sit down,” Thomas says. You hear his footsteps move past you, then the sound of him sitting back down. After a moment, he adds; “Please.”

You open your eyes. His hands lay on the table in front of him, his cigarette between his ring and pinkie finger. His dark hair sits as though he styled it, and you become suddenly aware of your appearance, the wildness of your hair, the goose pimples still on your skin, the slight shiver of your body, the sweat dried on your temple. His eyes are on you, expectant, and so you nod and sit on the other side of the table as he asks. Your gaze remains downcast.

In silence, he pours you a small glass from the bottle of amber whiskey, and you take it, slowly sipping the smooth liquid. Once you place it back down, and settle into your seat, he speaks.

“If you came to ask for forgiveness, it’s already given.” His voice rolls off his tongue, a plodding sort of sentence that you can’t help but get wrapped into. “Past in the past. We can go our separate ways.”

You look up at him, head still tilted down, and you toy with the rim of the glass, running your fingers along it. Your voice is quiet, not quite even enough. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“No. When you said I didn’t know who you were, what did you mean?” You look back down, unable to hold your gaze steady with his for long.

He rolls his shoulders and sits back, hands still laid across the table. “I’m the lead of the Peaky Blinders.”

“The razor blades.”

“Aye.” He inclines his head to you.

“And you guys do… what?”

“What needs to be done.”

“That’s very vague.”

“We’re a group of well-intended people who do very bad things to achieve our goals.”

You smile faintly. “I’m supposed to be scared of you.”

“Most people are.” His eyes search your face. “You’re not.”

You shrug. “Truth is, I’m scared of everyone. I’m so used to it that it doesn’t make you special.”

He brings his cigarette to his lips, takes a slow drag, and exhales a plume of smoke. “So you are scared of me.”

You take another sip of the whiskey, hoping to avoid answering. Your body shivers, despite the warmth of the drink inside of you, burning as it goes down.

“Smart thing to do now is go home, feed those horses of yours, and forget you pointed that bloody hose at me.” He sits up, leaning towards you. The space between you shrinks with the intensity of his gaze, and you sit back, meeting his eyes. “No need to get mixed up in the shit I live with.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” Something about him sparks some bravery in you, helps your voice come smoothly, helps your mind connect with your body. Or maybe that’s the whiskey. “It might’ve been… unfortunate, but it was the most fun I’ve had in— well, in years.”

“Treasure the memory, and get out while you can.”

You look down. This conversation is not going the way you’d hoped. You play the last cards you have. “I won’t sell you Draco, but I’ll let you ride him.”

Silence. Your gaze shifts upwards. One of his eyebrows is slightly raised, his cigarette paused halfway to his lips.

“What do you want?” He gestures at you, still holding the cigarette. “Why do you want this so badly?”

“I don’t know. I guess I want something different. I don’t want… to die in a house I feel trapped in. I don’t want to—”

“I’m not here to play games.” He stands, starts for the door. He stops, looks over his shoulder at you. “I’m not here to listen to girls who don’t know what they want.”

He opens the door and begins out. Sound rushes in, a deluge that almost catches you off guard and drowns you. Instead, you stand and project your voice. “Thomas.”

He pauses, looks back at you, slowly closes the door. His eyes are cold, calculating, a glint in them that tells you he’s teetering on a line between anger and amusement.

“I want freedom,” you say, finding some strength to your voice. “I want to feel like I’m more than my past, and more than the money I have. I want to have people care about me. I want to not be alone anymore.”

I want you.

“And,” you let out a short breath. “I want a do-over. I want you to come ride with me. Without spraying you with a hose.”

“A do-over,” he repeats, one hand still on the doorknob.

“Yes.”

He considers you, blue eyes sharp, but not as cold as before. “Tomorrow morning, then.”

“Okay.”

His gaze falls to the door beside him, and, almost imperceptibly, he takes a breath. “You ready?”

You nod and walk forward, moving towards the door.

“Wait.” He steps in front of you, blocking your way. You stop short, a foot away, and your eyes trail over him, marking his positioning, ready to dart away if needed.

He takes off his coat jacket and holds it out to you. “Wear it on your way back. Don’t need you getting sick.”

You take it, and offer him a small smile. “Not so scary.”

“Don’t decide yet.” He opens the door and the world floods back to you. As you walk out, you hear him say, “Goodbye, No One.”

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky fucking blinders #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #peaker blinders fandom #peaky blinders fanfic #only the wild ones

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potatoqueenpal · 6 months ago

Text

Yall I'm SO SORRY for dipping on you I have no ideas and I'm still fighting to get my avior fic back.

Have filler till I think of more angst

I present to you: Shaw Pack and Mates: Incorrect quotes

Sam, filling out legal paperwork: Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB?

Sweetheart : Bold of you to assume I was born at all.

Baabe: I personally was created in a lab.

Angel: I just straight up spawned.

Sam: We call that a traumatic experience.

Sam, turning to Baabe: Not a "bruh moment".

Sam, turning to Angel: Not "sadge".

Sam, turning to Sweetheart : And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

Asher: Knock, knock.

Baabe: Who's there?

Asher: Boo!

Baabe: Boo who?

Asher: Why are you crying?

Baabe: I'm not crying.

Asher: Hello notcrying, I'm Asher.

Milo: Angel, you look deep in thought. What’s wrong?

Angel: Did you know you can look at any object and know what it’s like to lick it? Even if you’ve never touched it before?

Milo: I’m never asking you anything ever again.

David: There's nothing worse than people using big words they don't understand.

Milo: I photosynthesize with this.

Sweetheart: I’m this close to falling in love with Milo.

Asher: Your fingertips are touching.

Sweetheart: Exactly.

Asher, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down.

Sweetheart : I actually just put the cutting board in the oven...

Baabe, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven?

Asher, spraying Sweetheart : You FUCKING DUMBASS!

Sweetheart : Dude, I forgot-

Asher: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!?

Sam: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

Asher: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

David, turning to Darlin': How tall are you?

Angel: Sam said its my turn with the brain cell.

Asher: Square up.

Sam: And what do we say when someone refuses your offer?

Sweetheart : Suck it, boomer!

Sam: I don't know who "Boomer" is, but no.

Asher: *spits mouthful of blood onto floor* You’ve become far more powerful since we last crossed paths.

Dentist: Please stop, there’s literally a sink right next to you.

Baabe: I think my guardian angel drinks.

David: How did none of you hear what I just said?!

Milo: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Asher: I got distracted halfway through.

Darlin': Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Asher: Consider the fundraising over! Your hero has arrived!

Sam: Uhh… where did you get so much money from, Asher?

Asher: Well, you know, I’m pretty good at numbers. I just crunched them, I stretched them, I analyzed my accounts, I timed the market-

*police sirens start to wail in the background*

Sam: DID YOU ROB A BANK?!

Asher: Oh, come on, Sam, do you really think so little of me? *opens the bag as purple dye explodes on their face*

Sam:

Asher: …it was a credit union.

Angel: Tell them to eat shit, David.

David: Tell them yourself.

Angel: Eat shit, asshole. Fall of your horse.

Milo, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?

Darlin': Yeah, sure.

*A few minutes later*

Darlin': Here you go.

Milo:

Darlin':

Baabe: Why am I here?

Angel: Guess what I'm about to get!

David: On my nerves.

Sweetheart : That's a nice arguement, Milo Why don't you back it up with a source?

Milo: My source is that I made it the fuck up!

Sam: Aww, what's your cat's name?

Milo: Aggro.

Sam, yelling to Baabe: TRY AGGRO!

Baabe, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK!

Milo:

Sam: What's your favorite number?

Angel: I’m so jetlagged I can’t even regrender my chorf.

*Everyone stares at Angel*

Angel: I don’t even know what I was trying to say.

Angel: I've connected the two dots.

David: You didn't connect shit.

Angel: I've connected them.

And now, wholesome (amd flirty) ship incoreect quotes:

｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡｡･

David : Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Angel: It was autocorrect.

David : Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Angel: Yes.

Angel: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

David : I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Angel: I said within reason, David . How about I murder that guy?

David : So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Angel: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

Angel: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

David : I have a gun on that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Angel: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

David : Nope, there's 26.

Angel: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

David : Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.

Angel: So give me the D.

Angel: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?

David : ...Have you never taken a shower before?

David, sweating: Angel, there’s something I need to ask you-

Angel: Finally! You’re proposing!

David: How’d you know?

Angel: David, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Angel: I even picked it up once.

David: I want to kiss you.

Angel, not paying attention: What?

David: I said if you die, I wont miss you.

Baabe: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Asher: Wow. They sound stupid.

Baabe: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense.

Asher: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Baabe: I guess you’re right. Hey Asher, I love you.

Asher: See! Just say that!

Baabe: Holy fucking shit.

Asher: If that flies over their head then, sorry Baabe, but they're too dumb for you.

Baabe: Asher.

Baabe: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Asher: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Baabe: Seize the dick.

Asher: We have a problem.

Baabe: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Baabe: I'm trash.

Asher: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you?

Baabe:

Baabe: You smooth motherfucker.

Baabe: And yes it does.

Asher: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.

Baabe: Hi, I’m ‘things’.

Asher: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Baabe: I wrote you a poem.

Asher, already crying: You did?

Milo: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Sweetheart : If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

Milo: I fell—

Sweetheart : From heaven?

Milo: No, I literally fell—

Sweetheart : In love with me the moment you saw me?

Milo: MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Sweetheart : Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Milo: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Sweetheart : AS ENEMIES?!

Milo:

Milo walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Sweetheart , I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

Sweetheart , sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

Sweetheart : I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

Milo: That's great, Sweetheart . Especially considering the fact we've been together for 6 fucking years.

Sweetheart : I’m in love with you.

Milo: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Sweetheart : I know.

Milo: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Sweetheart: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it.

Milo: What- how?

Sweetheart: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

Milo: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Sweetheart is? Because Sweetheart is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

Sam: The stars are so beautiful...

Darlin': They're just giant balls of gas.

Sam: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then-

Darlin': And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you.

Sam: Oh...

Darlin': Wow, Sam, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Sam: We literally slept together yesterday.

Darlin': That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

Sam: I love you.

Darlin', not paying attention: What was that?

Sam: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

Darlin': Well, Sam and I finally did it!

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*

Darlin': That's right... We kissed!

Darlin': What are you in the mood for?

Sam: World domination.

Darlin': That's a bit ambitious.

Sam: You are my world.

Darlin': Aww...

Sam:

Darlin':

Sam:

Darlin': OH.

Darlin': I have feelings for you.

Sam: Why? What's wrong with you? Are you sure you're okay?

Waiter: What would you like?

Darlin': Bring a milkshake with two straws.

Sam: *blushes*

Darlin': *puts both straws in their mouth* Watch how fast I can drink this!!

Darlin': You got a date yet Sam?

Sam: No...

Darlin': Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

Darlin': Are we fighting or flirting?

Sam: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-

Darlin': Your point?

Darlin': I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Sam: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Darlin': O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Sam: Is it working?

Sam: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Darlin': …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out in bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

Sam: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.

Darlin': Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

Darlin': Come to dinner tonight. I can’t cook, but I’ll bring plenty of free wine.

Sam: Marry me.

Darlin': This date is boring!

Sam: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Darlin': Then why did you invite me?

Sam: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Sam I'll do whatever I want!

(This is long as fuuuuck and took me a good hour, but it was fun)

#redactedverse #silly goofy mood #lol #redacted audio

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