#but it's one of the few i ever came across without my least favorite ya tropes

[spidey-stark]

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Peter is frustrated by your boss, Harry Osborn, having a crush on you. So when he gets the chance to have you alone he decides to leave a few marks to show Harry who you belong to. 

Warnings - Intense makeout scene, kind of sexual? lol 

Word Count - 2,305

Authors Note - Ah! I’m so glad that my last tasm!Peter one shot did so good! Thank you to everyone that read it and said such nice things! :) Hopefully you enjoy this one just as much and if you guys have any requests for Peter or other characters please just let me know and I’ll try my best to do them! 

Peter knew that he had essentially been banned from coming to visit me at work. 

The last time that he had tried to make a surprise stop by Oscorp during my shift had ended absolutely terrible. Being Harry’s assistant came with a lot of perks, seeing as though it had put me pretty far up on the corporate food chain and was also allowing me an opportunity to learn quite a bit about the business aspects of running Oscorp, however the downsides became apparent any time that Peter and Harry were in the same room together. 

The moment the two of them come into contact with one another it’s almost as though they are immediately taken over by some sort of testosterone-fueled stupidity; constantly trying to outdo one another. 

When it was just Harry and I alone it was easy to ignore his advances. Sure, he would usually find a way to work in random flirtatious comments or the occasional compliment here and there throughout the day, and sometimes it could get to be a bit much, but he was always much more tame on the days that Peter didn’t show his face. 

Yet, of course, it was rare that a day passed without Peter finding some excuse to stop by and make sure that Harry was keeping his distance. 

And today was no different. 

“What do you think salami is made out?” Peter questioned, holding his sandwich in front of his face as he analyzed the deli meat sticking out from the bread. “Is it pork? It’s not pork, is it?

Today’s reason for stopping by during my lunch break was very simple according to Peter: it was Flag Day. In Peter’s mind that was a holiday that he felt was worth celebrating, showing up unannounced with sandwiches from our favorite deli and his usual goofy grin. To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t even be mad at him for it if I wanted to be. Between his silly reasoning for stopping by and his offering of sandwiches? It was impossible not to just find the whole situation rather adorable. 

“I think it is pork.” I answered before taking a bite of my own sandwich. 

Peter scrunched up his nose a little, sitting his food back down in front of him. “It doesn’t taste like pork.” he stated matter-of-factly. 

“What’s it taste like?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Salami?” 

I couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying his usual odd behavior. Even if Peter was supposed to be banned from visiting me here it was still always a nice break to have him here for a while and take away some of the stress from working. 

“Ah, Peter.” Harry’s voice rang through the room as he entered, his eyes lingering on Peter, who was sitting directly across from me at my desk, remaining on him for just a moment too long. “What a surprise.” 

Peter offered him a very tightlipped smile, not even looking over at him. “Nice to see ya, Harry.” 

For the most part the two of them at least always tried to be somewhat cordial towards one another, yet the tension that filled the room any time the two of them were near each other was undeniable and it wasn’t exactly shocking to anyone around when the passive aggressive comments starting spouting from both of their mouths. 

“Y/N-” Harry began, ignoring Peter’s comment, “did you ever get a hold of that file I was asking you about?” 

“Yes!” I chimed quickly, immediately opening the drawer of my desk and pulling out a vanilla-colored folder, standing to my feet to walk over to him. “This was all of the information that I could pull on both Dr. Connors and Dr. Parker’s cross-species work.” 

I didn’t even have to look at Peter to know that his face was definitely painted with very evident irritation. 

Harry had already been on Spider-Man’s trail as of late, desperate to find some way to cure himself, and the fact that he was looking into the cross-species genetics work Peter’s father had done was not good news. Yet, a part of me did feel bad for Harry. 

Being his assistant meant that I had seen him in some of his weakest moments, the only person around to offer any semblance of comfort as his body was being slowly taken over by the disease he had inherited from his father: retroviral hypodysplasia. I knew that deep down all he was searching for was just a way to live, something that he believed Spider-Man could give him. Unfortunately Peter and I both knew that under no circumstance whatsoever could Harry be given access to Peter’s blood. 

If anything, knowing that there was no way we could help Harry just made me feel even more sympathetic towards him. A sympathy that Peter didn’t quite share most days. 

Harry gave me a sweet smile as he grabbed the folder from my hand and tucked it under his arm. “Thank you so much, Y/N.” 

I returned his smile, about to turn and make my way back to my desk to continue eating lunch with Peter, but halting as Harry spoke up once again. 

“You’re a lucky guy, Peter.” Harry finally made eye contact with Peter for the first time since walking into the room, placing a hand on the small of my back and pulling me into his side, “I know that I certainly wouldn’t be able to live without her by my side.” 

Peter’s nails were digging into the side of his leg, gritting his teeth and forcing a smile at Harry’s words, not wanting Harry to have any indication at all that he was succeeding in getting under his skin. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew the sight of Harry’s arm wrapped around my waist--his fingers lightly gripping my side--was driving him absolutely insane. Yet he wouldn’t make a scene. I knew he wouldn’t make a scene. Because no matter how badly Harry tried to drive him mad he knew that working at Oscorp had been my dream for years now. 

He clearly hadn’t done the best job of hiding his jealousy though according to the satisfied smirk tugging on Harry’s lips as he moved towards the door. “Oh, one more thing,” he spoke, his body halfway out the door, “I’m gonna need you to stay late again tonight and help me with some research, okay?” 

“Of course.” Peter was definitely going to kill me. 

The moment Harry shut the door behind him I immediately turned on my heel to face my boyfriend, who was now up from his seat and pacing around the office space. 

“Do you have to always entertain him?” Peter asked desperately, motioning to the door that Harry had just walked out of. 

“No, no Parker-” I responded quickly, “We’ve been through this! He’s my boss. And he’s usually a pretty good one at that. So do not drag me into whatever it is that you two have going on.” 

Peter stopped pacing for a moment, frowning at me. “I’m sorry. I know that it’s not your fault. But god he is just so unbearable.” 

“Remember when you guys used to be friends?” I reminded him sarcastically. 

“Ah, yeah, well that was before he decided he wanted to screw my girlfriend.” Peter glared. 

I knew that nothing I said was going to make Peter feel any better about the situation, and so instead I opted for walking over to him and placing my hands on his shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. “Just try not to worry about him. Please. Cause I promise you that no one is ‘screwing’ me except for you.” I finished with a laugh, standing up on my toes to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose. 

For a moment it seemed that my joking reassurance and touch had done the trick, his eyes softening and the tension slowly disappearing from his body. But, then, the familiar soft expression he wore every time he looked at me faded into one that was much more mischievous, and I had a feeling that I really didn’t want to know what had gotten into his mind. 

“You’re right.” Peter agreed, his hands suddenly leaving his side where they were anxiously picking at his jeans, coming up to meet my hips. “Maybe he just needs a reminder of that, yeah?” 

I snorted at his comment, my hands falling from his shoulders as I turned to head back towards my desk. “And how do you plan on going about that?”��

Bad question. 

I suddenly felt a tug on the back of my shirt, and before I could even process what had happened I found myself being spun back into Peter’s arms, a trail of webbing coming off my shirt. To say that I was stunned would be an understatement. Peter had never used his web-shooters on me before unless it had been literally a matter of life or death, and yet here he was now using them just to pull me into his arms. 

The look on his face was also concerning, a look that was extremely unfamiliar to me. Peter and I had been together for almost a year now and I had gotten used to his usual dorky and clumsy persona, traits that shined through even if our most intimate moments. He was always banging his head against mine accidentally or cracking a joke even with his hand between my thighs. But--currently?--there wasn’t even a hint of his awkward mannerisms. 

“Why don’t I show you?” 

With no further warning he pressed his lips against mine, kissing me in a way that he had never kissed me before. There was an urgency behind it, a roughness that was nothing like I had ever experienced before. 

One of his hands rested on my hip, slowly venturing further south while the other found its home on the base of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His teeth found my bottom lip, lightly nibbling and tugging against it before pushing his tongue into my mouth. 

It felt like my heart was beating faster and faster and I swore that if it sped up any more then it would come thumping right out of my chest. Suddenly I realized that I couldn’t breathe, a fact that was only being made worse by Peter’s lips pressed firmly against my own. I quickly found myself with my hands on his chest, pushing him away just long enough to gasp for air. 

“What’s gotten into you?” I breathed, still struggling to catch my breath. 

“I told you.” Peter answered with a smug look. “Gotta show Harry who you belong to.” 

He pulled me back into him, clearly unfazed by my interruption. The hand that had moved to my ass was now pushing my hips into his, allowing him to press himself into me. His lips ventured down to my jaw, leaving light kisses along it until he finally made it to the side of my neck. 

The warm sensation of his breath near my ear sent shivers down my spine, my knees feeling weaker by the minute, and if it weren’t for his grip on my body I was sure I would have crumbled straight to the floor at the feeling. 

Peter began to lightly trace his tongue along my neck and I let out a soft moan at the feeling, quickly covering my own mouth with my hand to avoid anyone hearing us, knowing the amount of trouble I could get in if someone walked in but not at all wanting him to stop yet. 

“You’re so beautiful-” he mumbled against my skin, pressing his lips to my neck once more, his fingers getting tangled in my hair “and all mine, yeah?” 

I nodded feverishly, another muffled moan escaping my lips as he suddenly sunk his teeth into my neck. 

My fingers were now gripping at his hair, pulling at the messy dark locks as he continued to nip at my neck, and even though I knew that I would be covered in marks after this I still couldn’t bring myself to push him away. Being with Peter was always an amazing experience but this was unlike anything else, and I fully intended on soaking up every second of this new side of him. 

He pulled himself from my neck, grinning at the sight of all the marks he had created, clearly proud of his work. He returned his attention to my lips, kissing me once again, even harder, deeper, and more passionate than before if that were at all possible. Bringing me further into his body again, desperate for even the tiniest bit of friction and doing anything to get it, eliciting yet another unholy noise to escape my mouth. 

“Bet Harry couldn’t make you feel this good, yeah?” Peter hummed as he pulled his lips from mine, chuckling as I groaned at the loss of contact. 

“You’re insufferable, Parker.” I pouted, earning yet another adorable laugh in response. 

Peter planted one last kiss on my forehead before scooping his backpack up from beside my desk. “As much as I’d love to continue this I should probably let you get back to work since you’re already gonna have a late night.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

“I don’t know. I’m kind of happy you get to stay late.” Peter replied as I shot him a puzzled look. “Just gives Harry more time to remember who you actually belong to.” 

I couldn’t even be mad at the comment, despite thinking the rivalry between the two of them was beyond stupid. Because honestly? If this is what I had to gain from Peter getting jealous? 

Then everything else was worth it. 

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[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

Summary: (Set throughout series) When the world ended, everything good died along with it. At least, that's what Daryl Dixon thought. But then he met a stranger in the woods and his entire world turned upside down.

A/N: HOLY MOLY. I can't believe it's here! I've been working on this story since October and I'm so excited for y'all to finally read it. This story is absolutely my favorite of all time and it's 20,835 words of pure Daryl POV (which is just *chef kiss*) — that being said, it’s also a slow burn...and I mean an entirely self-indulgent SLOWWWW burn. So strap in, y’all.

PSA: There are mentions of 'Dog' in this story that are sort of non-canon, especially now that we've seen a backstory as to how Daryl actually found him in the show...so for the sake of the story, let's just pretend 10.18 doesn't exist :)

Anywho, please be sure to share your thoughts with me afterward!

Happy reading!

xx Jess

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The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky alight with brilliant orange and yellow rays.

Daryl tilted his head back, glancing up at the shifting colors as night drew near. The air was crisp, a welcomed change from the usual summer heat. The streets of Alexandria were fairly empty, most already settling into their respective homes before nightfall. Though the unusual silence was near deafening, the archer paid it no mind.

He appreciated the quiet these days.

The grass poked and prodded beneath where he sat, but he simply shifted, drawing one knee to his chest, the other leg splayed out in front of him. He picked absently at one of the holes in his worn jeans, tugging at the string hanging off the fabric.

And then he thought of her.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath Daryl’s boots as he traversed through the otherwise silent woods.

The farm was destroyed, winter was approaching, and there seemed to be an ever-looming pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He pushed away any inkling of weakness, forging ahead with determined strides. His people were waiting for him, hunkering down in an abandoned diner less than a mile East, hoping he’d bring back something to dull the growing ache inside all of them.

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

The thought had come so naturally it nearly took him off guard. The feeling of community, of belonging, was something he’d never felt in his entire life. It was a strange notion, but that drive, that need he felt to provide, pushed him further out into the forest.

The archer kept his footsteps light, practically imperceptible, listening for noises only a seasoned hunter could distinguish. When a twig suddenly snapped off to his left, he froze, scanning the stillness around him. He raised his crossbow, the weight familiar in his grasp as he took a small step in the direction the noise had come from.

A moment later, Daryl spotted it — a lone raccoon just a few yards ahead.

The archer felt a rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation in his fingertips as they hovered over the trigger. He exhaled a soft breath, focusing all his attention on the animal. But with his concentration elsewhere, it wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he’d realized he was no longer alone in the woods.

Daryl spun around, coming face to face with an incredibly grotesque-looking walker, teeth bared, arms outstretched, launching itself towards him. The archer braced his arm against the biter’s throat just in time, grunting under its weight as he stumbled backward.

“Shit,” he snarled through gritted teeth, tossing his unloaded weapon aside as he fought against the attack. Using his free hand, he reached for the hunting knife secured on his belt, grabbing onto the hilt.

But before he could yank it out, the world began tilting rapidly around him.

Daryl’s back slammed against the harsh wooded ground, his foot tangled up in an exposed root. He spat another vicious curse as the walker thrashed on top of him, snapping its mangled jaw closer and closer, growling in starved desperation.

Then suddenly, it stilled.

The archer froze, his gaze locked on the unexpected sight of one of his arrows now embedded through the biter’s temple. He snapped out of his reverie, shoving the dead off his chest and scrambling back to his feet.

And then he saw her.

She stood just a few feet away, her rapid breathing mirroring his own, looking as though she was seconds away from passing out. Her hair was matted by a mixture of blood and dirt, her clothes were torn and ratted, her wide eyes seemingly too big for her gaunt features. She had a nasty cut across her temple, blood dripping down the side of her face, past her neck, pooling at the collar of her shirt.

Daryl’s eyes bounced back up to meet hers — his guarded and calloused, hers unsure and fatigued.

“I’m assuming — this — is yours?” she spoke between heaving breaths, tossing something in his direction, the motion causing her to sway unsteadily.

Daryl glanced down, spotting the raccoon he’d shot earlier now lying at his feet — but the arrow he’d used to kill it was no longer there.

Now, it was lodged through the skull of the walker that’d attacked him.

The archer focused back on the stranger — but before he could respond, her skin was suddenly paling, her body crumpling to the ground like a paper doll.

Daryl stared down at her unmoving form in bewilderment. He could tell by the shallow rise and fall of her chest that she was at least breathing. The cut on her temple was still bleeding, the wound looking fairly recent — his best guess was a concussion or exhaustion. Most likely both.

He took a small step forward, almost hesitantly. But when his approach didn’t stir the stranger, he found himself facing an unforeseen decision.

He could leave her — he should leave her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was a complete stranger. She chose to intervene, not him. She made that choice. Not him. Her.

Though as he turned to leave, as he scooped up the limp raccoon and shoved it into his bag, as he grabbed his strewn crossbow and strapped it across his back, one thing became startlingly clear.

He couldn’t do it — he couldn’t just walk away.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

He could’ve sworn that day in the woods was an entire lifetime ago.

Rick had nearly lost his damn mind when he’d returned to the diner with not only a small woodland creature in his pack, but a stranger slung over his shoulder.

“Is she dead?” Carl pressed nosily, hovering by the booth where the stranger was now laid out, still unconscious.

Lori quickly intervened, moving forward with one hand on her protruding belly, the other grabbing onto Carl’s shoulder. “Step back, baby. Give Hershel some space to work, okay?” she cautioned, pulling the inquisitive boy away.

“Oh, it’s quite alright — I’m just about done here anyways,” Hershel drawled, setting aside the blood-soaked cloth he’d been using to tend to the stranger’s head wound.

Daryl watched the exchange from across the room, arms folded tight against his chest, ignoring the stares coming from other group members.

The front door of the diner suddenly swung open as Rick marched through. He shot the archer a disapproving look before addressing the others. “I think we’re okay,” he finally spoke, re-holstering his pistol. “If Daryl had been followed here, I’m sure we would’ve known by now. We’ll keep somebody on watch — jus’ as a precaution — an’ get back on the road first thing.”

The archer gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the rest of the group began whispering amongst themselves, clearly distressed about the possible danger his decision may have put them in.

Rick approached a moment later, his steadfast strides immediately setting Daryl on edge. “Can I speak with you?” the sheriff hissed, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Lori’s worried gaze. “In private?” he added in a hushed tone before turning around and storming back outside.

Daryl scoffed under his breath, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against and stalking after Rick.

The archer yanked the door open, the cool air biting at his skin as he followed suit. He spotted Rick pacing back and forth across the parking lot, surveying the surrounding woods warily before spinning around and facing him head-on.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Rick demanded, taking a step forward.

Daryl fought back the instinctual urge to be on the attack. Instead, he took a breath. “What was I supposed ta’ do, man? Jus’ leave her out there?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t bring her here,” the sheriff snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to collect himself. “We — we have ta’ look after our own, Daryl — you know that. We have no idea who she is, where she came from, who she’s with,” he specified sharply before shaking his head. “That’s jus' not a risk I’m willin’ ta’ take. Are you?”

Daryl held Rick’s gaze for a long moment before looking away, glancing towards the tree line. The sheriff had a point, he couldn’t deny that. But there was something inside him, a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.

Rick slowly nodded, interpreting Daryl’s silence as an answer. “When she wakes, she’s gone,” he finally resolved, stepping past the archer and back towards the diner without another word.

But Daryl couldn’t let it go. “Hey,” he called after Rick, the sheriff’s strides halting mid-pace as he glanced back, the harshness in his features fading, unveiling a man with nothing but the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Back when Carl got shot, if Hershel had turned us away, what’d ya think would’a happened?”

Rick paused before exhaling a long, heavy breath, some of the fight leaving him with it. “That’s not — it’s not the same —”

“It is,” Daryl interjected. “It’s the same damn thing.”

The air grew quiet as Rick’s shoulders sagged, one hand resting against his hip. “My family…” he suddenly murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t risk it.”

Daryl nodded once. “I get it. After everythin’ with Shane an’ Randall, losin’ the farm the way we did, I get it, man,” he rasped, regarding him earnestly. “But m’ tellin’ ya…this’s the wrong call, Rick.”

The diner door suddenly flung open, interrupting the conversation and revealing a flustered-looking Glenn.

“Uh, hey guys,” he interrupted, sending the pair an awkward wave. “Just wanted to let you know that she’s, uh — she’s awake.”

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

“And kinda freaking out,” Glenn quickly tacked on at the end.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. He stormed past Rick and back into the diner, making a beeline towards the small crowd that had gathered around her.

“— okay, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” Lori spoke softly, holding her hands out in front of her as though approaching a caged animal.

The archer pushed through the group, spotting the stranger a moment later.

She was still sitting in the booth he’d initially laid her out in — though now she was huddled away from everyone, back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest in a cowering stance. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, clearly confused and disoriented and overwhelmed.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to understand why, but he felt a wave of outrage course through him.

“C’mon, people. She ain’t a fuckin’ zoo animal,” the archer growled abruptly, taking a defensive stance in front of the booth and motioning for the rest of the group to move back. “Give the girl some damn space.”

The archer waited until everyone stepped away before turning back around and glancing down at the stranger. He was surprised to see her eyes trained on him — even more surprised at the flush of heat that spread across his chest. He held her gaze a second longer before Rick appeared, parting through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

Rick came to a slow halt in front of her. “What’s your name?” he finally asked, his tone measured and firm.

The stranger did another sweep of the room, as though surveying just how much possible danger she was in. But when her eyes flashed up towards the archer once again, some of her unease faded. “Y/N,” she spoke hesitantly.

Rick nodded slowly before extending his arm. “Rick Grimes.”

Y/N looked at the gesture cautiously. Still, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

She appeared composed but Daryl noticed the slight tremble in her grip.

After a brief shake, Rick grabbed an empty chair and sat down at the end of the booth, resting his forearms against the table. “So, Y/N,” he began, giving the archer a look of resolve. “What happened ta’ you?”

The time after the farm fell was foggy, each day blurring into the next, suffocated by a heaviness the unknown inherently brought. But that day, the day he met her, ran stark against the rest.

Y/N had told her story like Rick asked her to do. She spoke of the small group she’d been staying with and the refuge they’d built, ultimately destroyed by the dead. Everybody had scattered — and if they hadn’t…

Any previous hesitancies the group held melted into understanding and sympathy almost immediately.

Daryl had known Y/N would be accepted into the group. Rick had hardened since the farm, but he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t be able to turn her away, just as the archer hadn’t been able to leave her out in those woods.

Spending the winter season on the run had been difficult for everyone — constantly running from the dead, cold and bitter nights, supplies growing scarce. The road was unforgiving, proving time and time again how completely fucked this new world was, how things would never return to the way they were, how this was now the new way of life.

Though for Daryl, if he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad — not in comparison to what his old life had given him.

He’d choose a lifetime of running over the stench of whiskey and the sting of belt buckles any day.

The only other person who’d appeared unaffected was Y/N. Besides showcasing a natural skillset in survival, she’d found her place amongst the group with ease — so effortlessly that Daryl hadn’t been able to recall what life looked like before her. She exuded a warmth that people were drawn towards — that the rest of the group clung to during the darkest of days.

But not Daryl.

He’d kept her at a distance, kept her at arm’s length because he refused to let her in as everyone else had.

Little did he know.

Daryl swiped at the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

The Georgian heat was nearly suffocating, blanketing over his body and setting his skin ablaze. He pushed away the discomfort, bending down and grabbing the ankles of one of the many walkers spread out across the prison’s courtyard. He’d lost track of how many bodies he’d dragged out, his group working tirelessly to clean out their newfound home.

The archer had just pulled the limp body through one of the fences, nearing the pickup truck used for disposal, when he heard someone approach.

“Need a hand?”

Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.

But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.

Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.

The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.

Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”

The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.

Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”

The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.

When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.

Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.

Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.

He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.

He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.

But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.

The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.

Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.

Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.

The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.

“Hey, wait up!”

The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.

“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.

Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.

She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.

Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.

Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.

But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.

Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.

She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.

The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —

“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.

She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.

But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.

Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…

“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.

He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.

Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.

He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.

Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.

It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.

No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.

“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.

But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.

It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.

“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.

But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”

“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.

Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”

Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.

“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”

The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”

Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.

Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.

He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.

He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.

Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.

His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.

She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.

But then her eyes met his.

Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.

He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.

Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.

His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.

He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.

The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.

He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.

But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.

Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.

The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.

“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”

Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.

“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.

No matter what the cost.

He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.

But Y/N was just as quick.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”

He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.

But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”

The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”

“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”

He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”

Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”

Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”

“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”

A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.

Guilt.

Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.

He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.

The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.

Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.

Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.

Old habits die hard.

Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.

Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.

He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —

Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.

He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.

The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.

When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.

Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.

When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.

But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.

Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.

She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.

Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”

“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.

The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”

“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.

Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.

She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.

Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.

Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.

But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”

The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”

Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”

Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.

She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”

“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.

The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”

“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.

Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.

She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.

Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.

“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.

“Daryl?”

The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.

But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.

The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #reader insert #crossbowking #norman reedus #honey & whiskey #long reads #oneshot #fanfic #twd fic #twd x reader #twd one shot #daryl one shot #fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #x reader #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead one shot

[nextdoorharry]

imaaaaagine a world like that..can you?

-

in which you and harry are exes, but still remain good friends when you’re always there for each other. both of you can’t help but reminisce…in your head.

a/n: super sorry i haven’t written in FOREVER!! been crazy busy with school (still am) and i will get back to the writing grind when i’m not as busy, with that being said this is just a quick thing i was thinking of. also, no hate to olivia and harry’s relationship at all. pr or not, both deserve respect and anything written in this piece is solely for writing purposes only. no hate will be tolerated toward an individual. we’re all human.

-

it happened when you were on your way home from dinner with your friends. a call from harry. this wasn’t out of the ordinary for harry to call you, being exes and all. you both apologized after the breakup and agreed that you both couldn’t let 5 years of love, being close with each other’s families, and a pet cat all go to waste. you agreed upon being friends with him. still hang out here and there after the breakup, acting all platonic. you can’t help but have a glimmer of hope its a call wanting to start a relationship again.

“hello?” you said, one hand on the wheel, other holding your phone.

“hi love, sorry s’a bit late, was wondering if i can come over. it’s about olivia.” harry says. still sending you butterflies when he said the simple yet warming term of endearment. but once he said olivia, your heart dropped.

she’s beautiful, confident, and makes your harry happy from what the tabloids portray. the last time you and harry spoke was before he went off to LA, filming for don’t worry darling, a movie his new lover produced. still a few texts since then like “happy birthday!” “congrats on the grammy,” or “how’s the cat?” you two always saved catching up for in person. it was just your thing you kept during the 5 year relationship and after. it keeps things more meaningful at the time, rather than texting or quick phone calls.

“ah, olivia. isn’t she my replacement?” you teased while laughing. you hear a burst of giggles from the other end of the line. god you missed hearing that everyday.

harry on the other end of the line, heart aches a bit hearing you say that. no one could ever replace you. ever. you are so special to him. if only it wasn’t for his team making it difficult for him to ease down on touring for a bit for you. you asked for one thing from harry, which was to start settling down. you both were only getting older and the talks of marriage and kids were frequently becoming the topic of discussion with family. a year and some after the breakup, which happened to be during quarantine, where he had so much time on his hands without you, he reflected on what could’ve been and how stupid he was for letting you go. you were always so patient with him. going to his shows, god awful dinner parties with industry people, changing your work schedule just to fit into his. you asked for one thing. and instead of fighting for you with his team, he instead sided with them, and let you go.

teasing not dying down, harry goes, “someone keeps up with me in the tabloids, eh?”

it’s the fact that he’s not wrong. you remember that tabloid very well. when the first pictures of harry and olivia came out in an article titled, “harry styles and olivia wilde new romance? is y/n replaced?”

your heart was hurting.

“of course i am. keep having to make sure my name is finally out their mouths.” you joke. “i’ll be home in about 15 minutes if that’s okay?”

-

you pull into the driveway already seeing harry sitting on your porch chair. he waves at you and you get out of the car, walking up to him. he stands up and greets you with a bear hug.

“missed you, y’look nice. where’d ya head out to?” he asked, hoping and praying you weren’t out on a date looking like that. he knows you only wear a red lip when its date night. his mind filled with jealousy at the thought of you with someone else. whereas he has no right being there are pictures of him kissing, cuddling, and whispering to olivia on a yacht in italy. all for the cameras. his stomach turns. that was supposed to be you and him. on a yacht on italy. except leaving the display of affection for the bedroom.

“on a date” you say blatantly.

his heart drops. and lets you go from the hug. lying through his teeth he says, “ah really? happy for ya, you have to tell me about it, hope it was with a good bloke.” he says lightly.

“i’m kiddingg, was out for dinner with friends. mel got engaged by the way! was celebratory dinner for her.” you say, unlocking the door, letting harry in.

harry sighs in relief. “that’s good! m’happy for her, pass on my congratulations.” harry follows you into your kitchen, sitting down on the counter stool, watching you making his favorite “calm down” drink, loving that you remembered how he likes it. he didn’t even have to ask you to make it. you just know its what he needs right now. he can’t help but ponder that it should have been you. it should be your friends out for your celebratory dinner for your engagement with him.

you pass him his tea, knowing he’ll only take a few sips of it yet keep it in his hold for warmth. you were on the other side of the counter across from him, making a mini cheeseboard you two can snack on while talking.

“so..what happened?” you ask, heart not ready if you can handle what he’s about to say about his new lover.

“s’just so complicated. originally it was supposed to be a pr stunt for the movie. but now i don’t know how the pr team messed up so badly but they did. no one is really believing it. everything was executed poorly. it sucks because it’s her team conducting everything which means i barely have a say in it. i look like the bad guy being portrayed as a home wrecker, and she’s not doing anything about it! s’like she’s enjoying it. the kissing, the night outs, etc. she knows that if my team did have a say, it would have been over a while ago.” he breathes out. he’s been wanting to rant to someone for so long about this. he also just wants you to know that he’s not into her. it’s all for show. he’s still all about you. he wants to make that crystal clear.

you nod your head listening to everything he’s saying. body feeling uneasy filled with jealousy when harry says she’s enjoying the intimacy they have to do for show.

“well, did you talk to her about it? or talk to jeff at least? there has to be something he can do..?” you ask.

harry sighs, “i’ve tried so hard. jeff said nothing they can do about it. and he’s telling me not to mess with olivia because her team can do more damage than good with my name. not that s’already ruined.” harry rubs his face with his hands, feeling stressed.

the way he’s acting is familiar to you. early on in your relationship, when you two were a freshly new couple, you guys wanted to be completely private. during that time, with harry and the band’s album coming out, his management made him do pr stunts like these. he was as stressed as he is now. you were so new to dating something in an industry. he didn’t want to scare you away. but you understood. you get it. and you still get it as he’s speaking.

“hmm..if i can recall, back when you had to do a stunt with kendall on the yacht, m’pretty sure it was the same situation. with kendall’s team being difficult, your’s not having much of a say. do what i told you back then, stand your ground, harry. tell olivia like you did with kendall. also kendall’s team at the time played dirty, yet they still were understanding with you and got someone new for a stunt. olivia’s team will probably get someone new as well. and how badly can they ruin your rep? everyone knows you’re the nicest person who wouldn’t kill a fly. and tabloids are tabloids. would you rather have a few bad headlines about you or would you rather deal with a stunt for what? another year now? that you feel uncomfortable with?” you state. smiling a bit because you know harry knows your right, he’s smiling a bit too. he knows you love being right and debating, pulling out facts. that’s what you always did during an argument. which is why you were always right.

man. why couldn’t he stand his ground with his team. why didn’t he take your advice back then? he should’ve sided with you. not his team. why is he always so scared of them?

self-loathing, harry breathes out a laugh, “always have to be right don’t ya? you know what to say every damn time,”

“what can i say? the lady is always right.” you say, smiling proudly while cleaning up the remains of the cheeseboard you and harry snacked on.

“thanks y/n, really, i know i can always come to you with this stuff,” harry states. looking at you with his piercing eyes, meaning every word he said.

you smiled and nodded, cleaning the kitchen a bit. it started to pour early on when you guys were having a chat about his situation, hoping silently it would come down faster so harry has an excuse to stay, you offer nonetheless. “why don’t you stay back for a bit, hm? s’pouring out there, only gonna get worse. we can watch something?”

“love island?” harry suggests.

“thought you’d never ask.”

-

few gasps and scoffs at some of the islanders and their drama later, you slowly were drifted off to sleep. harry, sitting on the other sofa from you, peaks to see if you’re still watching. his face was in awe. he misses this. domestic nights with you, chatting away eating in the kitchen, then watching something afterwards. only difference is that you two are on different sofas. whereas before you’d be coddled under his embrace. he slowly drifts off to sleep as well. rain still going on, technically he can still go home. driving in the rain was never an issue for him. but he’ll always use an excuse just to be with you.

-

iMessage: Olivia Wilde

1:34 AM - I miss you, and our casual hookups. Can’t stop thinking about it.

that was one part harry left out of the story. he hooked up with her.

-

ahhhhh!!!! lmk if you guys want a part 2!!!

#harry styles #harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry talk #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry concept #harry styles fic

[onmyyan]

Hi its me again. I love your writing and the fact that there isn't as much abuse like there is in others. It reminds me of old yandere stories were it was genuine lovesickness. Anyway, how do you think jjba yanderes would react to a darling that is taller and more muscular than them by quite a bit. You can do whoever you like I don't mind.

A/N: Omg ily🥺 it means a lot you said all that because I really love this genre it’s my comfort trope anyway thank you for the request n I hope ya like it!! Kira should be a trigger warning in an of itself but dw he’s just weird, not mean. Mentions of his past ‘girlfriends’, a curse word or two, lil suggestive in someplace’s Mista murks a few people, tw//gun violence

Characters: Pt2 Joseph, Josuke, Kira, Mista

Joseph was used to looking down on people, standing at a proud 6’5” he was literally and figuratively knocked on his ass when he’d first laid eyes on you, his immediate thought was you were a forgotten pillarman coming from nowhere to get revenge for your masters only to quickly realize you were just a stallion. You were strong enough to put him on his back after one too many cheeky comments. Unafraid to speak your mind and keep him in check, You would stare down at him with that mind melting smirk, all too aware of his frustrations, you assumed he was just being a man, ashamed to be outclassed by someone other than himself, oh honey how wrong you were. You enjoyed teasing the behemoth of a man as no one else really could, at least not as well as you did, throughout your little jabs and snark he always had a retort, a response on the tip of his tongue, eager to do this dance of yours until one of you broke, to you he was a way too cocky dangerously self assured pretty boy who was entertainingly easy to rile up, but to Joseph, you were his everything. Someone he could proudly take home to Granny Erina once he’d finally tamed you. He had a plan, a three step plan to steal your heart just as you’d done his, and this little game of who could annoy the other the most was just step 1. “It’s been fun JoJo but you’re gonna have to find someone else to bother.” You’d jokingly said one day out of the blue, an odd friendship had formed through the month you’d been in town and it felt wrong to leave without notice, an act of kindness you’d learn to regret. “Is this one of your famous jokes (Y/n)? Not so funny to play with a mans heart like that I nearly believed you.” He finished with a scoff, his signature smirk not reaching his eyes. “It’s true Joseph, my flight leaves tomorrow, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye, because as much as we fuck around you’re pretty fun to hang out with.” Your sincerity almost made him feel bad about rushing the next few steps of his plan, he’d have to cram months of planning into a night but he’d accomplished more with less time on his side. He huffed, his grin stretched wide across his handsome features. “Then we outta make tonight count eh?” A thick arm was tossed around your neck, you had to bend awkwardly for this to be possible much to your amusement. “Okay you weirdo, whatever you say.” You let him lead you around town with a grin, unaware you’d be missing that plane, and any other one you tried to take without him.

Josuke watched you eat with the dopiest grin on his face, he’d spent an extra hour in the mirror this morning in preparation for your first official date! Well you didn’t exactly know it it was a date and Okayasu was eating rather messily beside you two but still! You’d actually agreed to come to Toni’s with him! You’d been an enigma since you transferred to the bizarre town, choosing to keep to yourself, and despite the intimidating height and mass you possessed, he saw through your act in seconds. There was a huge softie under all that muscle, he’d watched you enough to know this as a fact, you were a gem and he was intent on showing you his appreciation and adoration for the rest of his days, a vow he’d silently taken the day you’d stolen his heart, the moment was brief in reality but it lasted forever in his mind, you smiled at him in passing, he could feel time slow down, everyone around you faded in the background, a backdrop to the beginning of your story. He could imagine telling your kids how you’d met, something about the way you’d stare down at him, eyes sharp and attentive, like you truly listened when people spoke, your laugh was loud when it was real and every time he heard it he felt 10 years added to his lifespan. At the same time that icky feeling at another person making you laugh was conflicting, he’d never been in love before but he suddenly understood why his mom had never given up on his dad, love was weird but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. You’d accidentally snapped your chopsticks laughing too hard at a joke he’d tossed out, your face scrunched in embarrassment before chuckling at yourself and switching to a fork, his stand came out on its own, pocketing the shards to fix later, a new item for his ever growing collection, what a cute little memento from your first date! His thoughts swirled happily with the stories you’d be telling your kids. Thankfully neither of you noticed his little pickpocket moment, dangerous plans forming as he stared at you with those misleadingly soft puppy dog eyes.

Kira could die in this moment, happily I might add, as your firm but soft hand was wrapped oh so deliciously around his throat threatening to crush it with ease at the slightest movement. He’d been watching you for a while now, the longest he’d ever spent on someone he didn’t plan to kill, it become sort of hobby he’d picked up recently, the morally upsetting activity bringing peace to his day to day, usually he used his stand to carefully observe your routine, eager to learn all he could about his future spouses likes and desires, but he was getting greedy. Of course he could always introduce himself but he resisted, knowing there was a time and place to get exactly what he wanted. He liked to think he knew everything about you by now, your favorite color, how you liked your coffee, your love for cats, but he didn’t anticipate this. You were much more observant than he’d given you credit for, while you couldn’t see his stand you could sense yourself being watched, and seeing the large blonde lurking indiscriminately in the crowds throughout the day was enough to set you off. So you trailed off into the less crowded parts of town quickly entering an alleyway, he followed in pure confusion only to be roughly slammed into the wall, his stand came out on reflex but simply stared at his attacker, it seemed almost confused as what to do. “Why the hell are you following me pretty boy?” His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feel of your fingers tightening, god he’d never felt this rush of exhilaration, none of his past ‘girlfriends’ could pull such an illicit reaction from him with a simple touch. When he didn’t answer you simply scoffed and tossed him aside like it was nothing. You left with a threat to stay out of your sight, yet all he could do was smile, the faint imprint of your fingers burned in his skin deliciously, how lucky could one man get?

Mista observed you with hungry eyes. His stare was unapologetically locked on your form. He made no intention to hide his attraction for you. The day you’d joined Buccarati’s crew was the day his world flipped. He assumed his new teammate would be no one to fuck with based on what Bruno told him about your stand, but when you walked in? Needing to bend down slightly just to enter the doorway had him sweating in his seat. He didn’t know what to say as he watched you happily interact with his fellow teammates, immediately you blended with the group, but all that was running through his mind were all the fun things you could do with those muscles. He usually stayed silent around you, not out of dislike as one would assume from his piercing gaze, but fear of accidentally voicing one of those nasty thoughts kept him quiet. You didn’t seem to mind though, always including him in the conversation, you even understood his very valid fear of that dreaded number! How could god plop such a perfect person in his lap and expect him to not do anything about it? Alas, Bruno had specifically told them not to make you uncomfortable with any flirting so he bit his tongue. Your aura was calming, a contrast to your powerful stand, speaking of, he couldn’t get his under control. Whenever they could Sex Pistols was out and all over you. They climbed and clamored for your attention, thankfully you didn’t seem to mind, always entertained their antics when you could, even giving each one a small peck when they wouldn’t let you leave for a mission without Mista, to say he was done for was an understatement, it took one mission going foul for his resistance to snap. His stand moved faster than it ever had, piercing the skulls of the idiots who brought you pain. He left the last one slowly bleeding out kneeling down to wipe the matted hair from your forehead, “You okay baby? Don’t worry honey I’ll make the bastard hurt.” He spoke not breaking eye contact, his hand pointed behind him, grip steady as he unloaded in the poor fool who thought it was a good idea to make you bleed, the wound was small, not even deep enough to trouble Giorno but that didn’t matter to Guido, any slight against you was disrespecting the future parent of his children, and what kind of man would he be if he didn’t defend your honor?

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #yandere Joseph #yandere josuke #yandere Kira yoshikage #kira yoshikage #josuke higashitaka #yandere x y/n #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere mista #guido mista #yandere Joseph Jostar

[ezzydean]

“ you were always my maybe, ya know? ‘maybe they’d finally ask me out.’ ‘maybe when i wasn’t the one looking, they were noticing me too.’ i know it’s silly, but. you were always in the back of my mind. ” - Stiles & Jackson

“Okay,” Jackson says as he strolls into Peter’s apartment.  “This has gone on long enough.”  Stiles freezes with a peanut butter cookie halfway into his mouth and then hastily shoves it, and two more, into his mouth.  “What the hell, Stilinski?”

He has to wait for Stiles to finish chewing the wad of cookies in his mouth so he can respond without spraying the crumbs across Peter’s kitchen island and he takes the time to assess the conflicting mass of scents he’s getting from Stiles.  There’s a smidge of guilt, one that’s kind of always there ever since the Nogitsune happened so the wolves all just tend to let that one go.  It’s almost a baseline anymore, along with being tired and trying to get his ADHD under control with medication, and as strange as it sounds there’s a comfort in knowing it’s there.  Over the base guilt is the sharp spike of guilt that came along with the surprise in his scent when Jackson opened the door, most likely the same guilt that for whatever reason made Stiles jam three cookies into his mouth at once.  There’s the general scent of male and teenager and pack that soothes Jackson’s nerves even as the scent of teenager and hormones and arousal makes his skin itch.

Overall he just smells like Stiles.  Like he’s always smelled ever since Jackson managed to tame the lizard part of his shifting enough to realize that not everyone was an enemy.

“What’s up, Jackson?”  Stiles wipes his mouth on his sleeve and Jackson doesn’t even try to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Classy.”

“Shut up.”  Stiles shifts back and forth a few times and Jackson’s nose twitches as Stiles’ scent turns nervous.  A sour kind of nervous.  Like waiting for test results or hearing that an officer got hurt on duty and he hasn’t heard from his dad that day.  “What did you want?  Or need?  Or whatever?”

Before Stiles can start rambling about whatever comes to mind — most likely the history of cookies or a specific recipe that Stiles found for the cookies he’s eating after he had originally been looking for information on rugarus or something — Jackson leans against the island opposite from Stiles and lets out a breath.

“This has gone on long enough.”

Stiles laughs nervously.  “What has?  Me eating cookies alone in Peter’s apartment?”

“You avoiding me.  You hiding away in Peter’s apartment.  You pretending that we haven’t spent literal hours talking to each other on the phone when we can’t sleep.  You sending me to voicemail instead of answering.” Stiles’ eyes are growing wider with each sentence out of his mouth and this wasn’t quite the way he had planned on this going but now that he’s started talking Jackson can’t seem to make himself stop.  “You suddenly acting like you’re not the closest thing to a best friend I have anymore.”  He takes a deep breath.   “And me acting like it’s not killing me to lose you.”

Stiles just stares at him, so still that if it wasn’t for the fact Jackson can hear his heart beating wildly in his chest he would think Stiles had been turned to stone or something.  He has no idea what to do now.  Whatever he had planned on saying, whatever he had planned on doing once he opened the door, it’s all lost now.  Buried under the pile of words he’d just dropped to the ground at Stiles’ feet.

“I don’t know when it happened for sure.  I never imagined the day that you lured me into the back of your jeep under the pretense we were all going out for Thai food so you could actually break in here that I would be here some day.  That I would feel better when I could see you.  That your scent would bring me more comfort than my favorite food.  That knowing you — and Boyd and Erica and Peter but you especially — were okay would be the most important thing on my mind in a fight.  But it happened.  It happened and you’re the cause of it and the fact you’re also the one pulling all of that out of my hands is… I can’t even describe it.  But it sucks so much.”

Stiles licks his lips and takes a few breaths, eyes darting around like there might be something in the apartment to use as a distraction.  But then his shoulders drop and he leans heavily against the island and meets Jackson’s gaze.

“I was in love with Lydia forever.  Everyone knows that.”  He has no idea where this is going but he nods because everyone did know that.  Stiles did not make it a secret at all.  “I teased and poked and flirted with Danny.  Even though I knew it would never go anywhere.  Even if I was attractive to gay men he made it clear I wasn’t attractive to him.  Which is fine.  I dated Malia for a bit.  Even managed to go out a couple times with Lydia.  You know all of this.”  He nods again.  “But through all of that you were there.  You’ve been an asshole.  A jerk.  A typical high school bully.  But you’ve also saved my ass more times than I can count.  You’ve talked me down from panic attacks and helped me rewrite my college essays when my computer crashed and I lost them all the day before they were due.  So no matter who else I might have looked at you were there.  And, well.”  Stiles takes a deep, deep breath and lets it out so slowly it feels like time stops.  “You were always my maybe, you know?  Like.  Maybe he’ll finally ask me out.  Maybe when I wasn’t busy looking at him, he was finally noticing me.  Just.  Yeah.  I know it’s silly but it was you.  You were always in the back of my mind.”

“So what’s with all of this?” he asks when he finally processes all of Stiles’ words.  “What’s with the wallowing and pouting and acting like talking to me physically pains you?”

“Because it does!  Knowing that I’m talking to my best friend and he’s never going to be anything but my best friend sucks so much because I love you!”

“Yeah, so?  I love you too, idiot!  Why do you think it’s pissing me off so much that you’ve stopped talking to me?”

Stiles stares at him, eyes wide, and Jackson takes a deep breath and can’t help but notice the sharp scent of nervousness.  Not the sickly sour smell that makes his wolf want to curl around Stiles and protect him but the sharp sweet one that makes him think of things like Stiles managing to sneak off with Peter’s keys and copy them in secret and Erica showing up with Stiles’ favorite brownies and the smile on his face when Sheriff Stilinski claps any of them on the shoulder and tells them he’s proud of them for something.

“You love me?”

Jackson shakes his head.  “Of course I love you,” he sighs.  “I wouldn’t put up with so much of your shit if I didn’t, Stilinski.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the poster child of normal, healthy emotions, Whittemore, so shut up and come over here and kiss me or something.”

“Sorry, man.  I don’t kiss my friends.”  Stiles narrows his eyes at Jackson.  “I’ll only kiss my girlfriend.  Or boyfriend.”

“Then get your ass over here, boyfriend, and kiss me.”

“You asking me on a date, Stilinski?”

“I’m asking you on all the dates, Whittemore.  From now ‘til forever and all that shit.”

Jackson slides around the island and pulls Stiles into his arms.  “I think I can handle that,” he whispers as Stiles’ eyes flutter shut.

“Good,” Stiles whispers back.

The Invaders (6 new messages)

Peter: [IMG] Peter: Can someone tell me why Stiles and Jackson are in my kitchen making out? Peter: Why does my apartment have to smell like teenage hormones all the time? Erica: !!!!!! GO STILES!!!! Erica: hey at least if it smells like teenage hormones it doesn’t smell like teenage angst Vernon: For Now.

#teen wolf #stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #the invaders #prompt #cattatonically #wolfy writing

[voxmortuus]

Silly Crush | POSSIBLE CHAPTER SERIES

Stu Macher x F!Reader

Scream FanFic

TW: Fluff, mild language, heated make-out session

Forgive my writing. It’s been a while.

GIF created by @2026

Late summer of 1996, just before school starts back up again. The summer fair had come to town, this year it decided to not skip town, the weather was perfect for it! Being the loner you usually steered clear of these things, but you had befriended Tatum and Sidney. It was nice to have friends that you could talk to, to trust, plus the added perks of Stu's flirtatious nature, though you could never bear to tell him that you had a crush on him, you'd be risking your friendship and likely look foolish, there was no way you thought that Stu would be into someone like you... I mean, after all, he was Stu Macher, he and Billy were kind of known around Woodsboro High.

Slipping into your favorite pair of black overalls, one strap off, and slipping on a black crop top and a pair of black LEI black platforms a touch of makeup, and braided your hair into long pigtails, and headed out. Tatum loved your outfit. "We'll meet the guys there, Stu had to do something." Tatum chirped while you hopped into her red Volkswagen bug and takes off down the road. "What did have to do?" You casually ask. "Something with Billy, said they'd show up after, some project they're working on." Sidney chimed in. "Yeah something stupid important." Tatum mocked. With a chuckle, you shake your head and watch out the window.

Getting out of the car after she parked it you three look around and decide to head to the benches waiting for the two boys to arrive. Tatum played with her gum and Sidney reading a book, you sat there, people watching, three unlikely friends, but so far so good, this was going to be good for you, real good, so you hoped, minus the odd guilt of crushing on Tatum's man. Letting out a soft breath, Stu and Billy approach from behind startling their better halves. Stu looks at you and gives you a sweet smile. "Hey Y/N. Glad you made it." It could be he was being nice, but the feeling behind his words was something more. You give a kind smile back and flush slightly. "Me too." Clearing your throat and with a side stare from Tatum and a smile from Sidney the girls hop up and look around.

Without any hesitation Tatum looks a Stu, "It's time for that big blue dog you promised me!" She grinned taking his hand and dragging him away. Sidney looked at Billy, "Ferris Wheel?" with a shrug and a nod. "Sure." Sidney looks at you. "You can come if you'd like." You shake your head and give a smile. "Nah, I'll be good, I'll be here. It's just nice to get out of the house." Sidney nods and pats your shoulder before she and Billy take off to the wheel while you sat there, alone, like always. "I knew this was a bad idea." you tell yourself before letting out a sigh and slump on the bench picking at your glitter nail polish and staring at the ground a bit.

After a few hours had passed Tatum started to feel sick, of course, that's what happens when one inhales two cotton candies and a thing of funnel cake and a corn dog and a diet soda. She looks at you. "Hey, I'm going to head home, thanks for coming with us, Stu is going to take you home if that's alright?" You look at her "Yeah, that's fine. Feel better." You tell her. "Billy, Sidney you ready?" she askes them almost feeling ignored you look down at the ground, your jaw clenches, Sidney touches your shoulder again and the three of them take off. Stu sits next to you and looks ahead of himself. "You know, she doesn't mean to be a bitch all the time." You look up and over at him and arch a brow. "She's not a bitch, just, set in her ways." With a chuckle, he shakes his head. "No need to be polite. She brought you here and ditched you. Personally Bitch move." He stated

Shaking your head you know how people like that can be, you slump a bit more. "Nothing like being a third wheel." you chuckle. "It's alright though, it was nice to get out of the house." you state with a soft voice and maybe some optimism. Looking at you he smiled. "How about I make up for it?" You quickly shake your head and smile. "You don't have to, there's nothing to make up for." Shaking his head again. "I don't think you understand. Let me make it up to you. I don't think I'm giving you much of a choice." Clearing your throat you look down and pick at your nails again and nod your head. "Okay Stu."

Standing up he takes your hand and your whole body gets warm, flushed, and nervous as he takes you to win you that blue dog he botched trying to get for Tatum. "Until I win the big blue one Merve." He tells the man behind the counter. "Anything for you Stu." He chuckles and hands him some baseballs. You watch as he looks at you. "I'm bad at this." He laughs throwing a few, "Not too bad." you reassure him. After a good five minutes, he wins you the large blue dog, smiling you bite your lip taking the dog. "Thank you," you tell the man and then at Stu. "And thank you. I have the perfect spot for him in my room." You beam a smile nuzzling into the dog a bit.

"Next stop!" He takes your hand and takes you to get something to eat. You blush a bit as he took it upon himself to order for you. Taking a seat a the picnic benches Stu looks at you and looks around. "There are a few more stops before we hit the big ending." He nodded to the Ferris wheel. Biting your lip and taking a bite of your burger you look at him and back at the end of the strip and let out a shaky breath. Nerves are going to get the better of you, you know this and grip the large paw of the dog and look at Stu. "Thank you, for all of this so far." He laughed. "Don't thank me until the end." He tells you.

Finishing food he takes you to the water guns, the ball toss and ends up winning you a goldfish, the thunderbolt, and last but not least, you two are standing in line for the Ferris Wheel, your stomach is turning, nerves, the Ferris wheel was a special ride. "We don't have to do this." You tell him. "Nonsense, we're going." He laughs taking your hand and getting into a cart and closes the door. Placing the dog and the bag with the goldfish on the bench across the way Stu decides to sit next to you with his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. Taking in his cheap cologne your eyes close, feeling this odd sense of safety.

The ride takes off and you jump a little and he pulls you closer. "Heights make me uneasy." you tell him, looking down at you. "I'll protect you." He tells you with a cheeky grin and looks around. "Thank you for tonight, I'm glad I came." She smiled. "I'm glad you came too." A few times around the wheel stops, Looking around Stu chuckles. "Uhhh, bad news, we're going to be stuck here for a bit." Your eyes grow wide and you get closer to him and bite your lip harder. Stu holds you petting your head a bet and you look up. "Well I guess, we should talk... I need to distract myself. I'm a horrible friend Stu." You tell him.

With an arched brow, he looks at you, "How so?" you fidget and he looks at you, waiting for you to speak. "I've uhh, I've got this thing for someone, and this someone has someone, and this someone's someone had befriended me this summer and I feel like a bad friend for liking this someone." You state, "Vague... I'm sure Sidney would understand, everyone's got a thing for Billy." He moves away a little bit. Shaking your head you look up at him. "No Stu, I like you, and Tatum would have a cow if she found out." Stu looks at you. "You like me?" He asks you, nodding your head he chuckles and smiles. "I like you." He tells you.

With a nervous laugh, you lean into him and bite on your lip. He looks down at you, and tilts your head up, and presses his lips to yours, his hand resting on the side of your neck as you grip his shirt and press into the kiss a bit more. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss becomes a bit more heated, his hand moves from your neck to your breast gripping it in his hand as the other pulls you closer. He pulls you on top of him and you look over his face, moving your hips a bit and he lets off a soft groan, pulling you closer back into a kiss as his hands rest on your butt pulling you even closer, any closer and you'd melt into him. His hand slips under your shirt playing with the perky bit of flesh and the suppleness of your breast while your fingers play with his hairline.

Tongues dancing together he lifts his hips up into yours. Looking over his face. "We shouldn't do this here, not here, and it's too quick, and I... Stu..." Stu looks at you. "Yeah Y/N?" He askes with a smile. "Do you love Tatum?" You ask him. "I wouldn't call it love, she's annoying, needy, and overly clingy... I offered to take you home, I wanted to tell you I liked you, and was hoping that maybe you'd be my girl." He looked over your face. Hugging him you nuzzle into his neck. "Yes, absolutely. Tatum is going to shit." You chuckle shaking your head. "She will at first, but she'll find someone else to occupy her time." He smirked and places you next to him and fixed your shirt, taking care of you, holding you close.

The wheel starts moving again and when you two get off the wheel, he smiles taking your hand, and escorts you to his car where he then takes you home. "I'll come by tomorrow we'll go see a movie or something. After I tell Tatum see ya." He chuckled planting a kiss on your lips before you get out of the car and make your way inside with your dog and fish. Your mother looks at you. "Well well, looks like you had fun." You smirk big and nod. "Night mum. Love you." You kiss her cheek and rush upstairs. Putting the fish in a bowl and the dog on the foot of the bed you strip down into something comfortable grab your journal and being to write. "Dear Diary, Tonight, was the best night EVER!"

—————————————————————————————————

If you want to be tagged let me know. This is the first of many stories! I am also taking requests!

@luciferslittleastre

#gif by 2026 #scream movie #wes craven #scream movie 1996 #90s fanfic #matthew lillard #stu scream #stu macher #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #my fanfic stuff #my writing #fanfiction #fan fiction #my story #my oc #TellingYouAStory Original #stu x reader #stu macher x reader

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

So this is a personal one for me to ask and if you're not comfortable with it don't mind it; how would the tmnt boys (seperate) react when the reader confesses that they're autistic after the boys got curious when she had some peculiar, behavior or stims. The reader would be stressed, because she has a crush on the tmnt boy in question and she didn't want them to find her weird or just stop interacting with her. When she's met with confusion instead, because the boys never heard of it, cue this weird conversation where reader tells them to the best of her ability what it is and the boys just keep asking questions. Also some general headcannons with it maybe?

Okay so I'm actually really happy that you asked me this because I feel like ASD isn't portrayed a lot in any type of media. My ADD and ASD have a lot of overlap so I hope I can capture what you're asking of me!

Now let's get into it!

TMNT Headcanons

The boys reacting to an autistic reader

Leonardo

he wasn't really sure what was happening the first time you reacted

one minute you were standing next to him doing dishes and the next you were attempting to claw your skin off like an angry cat

Leo tried not to look annoyed as he watched you rub your hands against your shirt until your flesh started to turn red

you looked like you were crying but he knew you weren't

but your face was starting to turn purple and your cheeks were puffy from the effort of holding your breath

"Y/N? You need to breathe."

You shot a glare at him, scathing eyes meeting his now very concerned expression

your own softened and you clutched your arms to your chest, heaving oxygen into your lungs until your face became a normal shade again

"Are you okay?"

The words were stuck in your throat and you weren't sure if you should nod or shake your head

so you gave him a half-hearted shrug

he frowned back at you but turned to finish the dishes on his own

when he questioned you about it later he couldn't help but be curious

"Well actually it's uh- it's kinda a sensory type of thing? There are certain textures that I can't stand touching do I avoid them but if I come into contact by accident my brain just kinda explodes and I shut down."

"How exactly does that work though?"

"I don't really understand it much but like- you know that feeling you get when you think there's a bug on you and there's not but it really really feels like it?"

He nodded

"Yeah, it feels like that. And anytime I touch something that triggers that reaction it takes FOREVER to get the feeling off my skin. That's why I usually wear gloves when I do dishes. Guess I just forgot to grab 'em today."

He was sympathetic

and god, you were so embarrassed

lucky for you, Leo's not an asshole

"Well thank you for explaining it to me, you really freaked me out earlier. I'll talk to April and see if we can keep a pair or two at the lair just in case you forget again."

Consider your heart melted

you couldn't even find the words to thank him and holy shit was your face red

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah Leo?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me- us that you were autistic?"

Did you rip the band aid off now or make something up? Which would ,technically speaking, be less catastrophic in the long run?

"I uh- I really like you and I really didn't want you or the other's to look at me differently..."

wow, you liked him? miss ma'am you have saved this boy a world of anxiety and damn does he thank you for it

"Thanks for telling me... and y/n? I really like you to."

Awh fuck yeah, best possible execution of band aid-ripping-off ever

Donatello

Donnie wished he could act surprised when you finally told him

he really wanted to, it would've made you feel better for sure

but he sucked at lying and he didn't want to make you feel like he thought you were an idiot

because that was so far from the truth

after going through extensive research on Mikey's behalf when he suspected he had ADHD Donnie had stumbled across many different websites that discussed the symptoms and overlaps between both disorders

to make a long story short, Donnie knew that you had ASD and he was waiting for you to tell him

it would probably come off as rude if he brought it up in conversation right?

he didn't want to risk it

but that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on you and your behaviors

he was a man of science, of course he was going to analyze you

not in a weird way or anything, just as a curious sort of precaution

but the longer you were involved in the turtle's lives the more noticeable your stims and meltdowns got, Donnie did his best to cover for you without making you suspicious of him

eventually he'd come up with something that he hoped would come across as a friendly gesture and wouldn't set you off or scare you away

it was game night at the lair and you, as always, were perched on the arm of the sofa, a large grin plastered on your face

inside your head was exploding but you were masking it pretty well if you do say so yourself

but Donnie was, well... donnie was donnie

so when he noticed you starting to rock a little more visibly he removed his attention from commentating the game and grabbed a pair of headphones from the side table

you were beyond confused when he passed them to you but your face revealed everything

"They're noise cancelling, try them on."

holy shit it was like putting your head underwater, everything was muffled

not in the way normal headphones did, you quite literally couldn't hear anything at all, just a calm amount of nothing

you nearly started crying when you realized that Donnie had figured you out on his own

but you'd never been more relieved about anything in your life

Raphael

he wouldn't admit that he was mesmerized by your presence

you practically radiated calm

his complete opposite

it was his favorite thing about you, because despite your quiet disposition and calming aura you weren't afraid to call him out or rebut any of his insults

this was not something you expected him to appreciate nor was it something you thought would make you catch feelings

but damn if you didn't

he'd been sitting in on yours and Donnie's little experiment for an hour or so now, watching you both exchange quiet whispers and inside jokes that you always seemed to lag on

then you slipped up

not bad, nothing detrimental to the project, just the same mistake that you'd already made ten times over

you might as well have exploded

"Y'N, you just have to move thi-"

"I KNOW DONATELLO. I FUCKING KNOW AND I JUST CAN'T DO THIS BULLSHIT!"

you set everything down gently enough to avoid breaking it before turning and storming out of the lab, waving your hands like they were on fire

Raph and Donnie exchanged a look that sent the larger red turtle following after you

when you calmed yourself down enough to talk you kept your gaze locked on the wall, explaining that you couldn't make eye contact when you were upset

he might not be the smartest brother, but Raph's no dummy, he put those pieces together pretty quickly after you told him that one small detail

he wasn't upset that you didn't tell him and you'd personally never been more relieved

your heart nearly splattered into the stratosphere when you finally gace him your own explanation

"yeah, I like ya too."

you grinned so wide you were sure your face would split open and your entire body rocked side to side with excitement

he thought that was pretty adorable too

And he did stick around to offer a bit of support when you apologized to Donnie for screaming at him

Michaelangelo

to be frank it probably shouldn't have taken so long for Mikey to realize that you were autistic

the similarities between your own personality and his ADHD were so in sight it was near painful

it was his turn to make dinner that night and you'd made sure that you came over early to help him set up, you knew how side-tracked he'd get and you were the poster child for solid routine

what more perfect matchup existed?

trick question, there isn't one

you were on one side of the counter cutting vegetables and he was on the other throwing said vegetables into the mixing pot

the music was at an ungodly level of loud so your only means of communication were screaming over it

"MIKEY."

"WHA?"

"YOU GOT THE-"

"YEAH."

"AND THE-"

"UH HUH."

"COOL, HAVE YOU SEEN THE-"

"TONGS? NO, THE SKEWERS. YEAH, THEY'RE IN THE OTHER DRAWER."

"THANKS."

the two of you went about your previous tasks, thinking nothing of the conversation that had just taken place

at least until you'd begun washing your knife and cutting board

that's when Casey walked in, looking both perturbed and annoyed at the same time

"Alright, which one of you knows telepathy?"

Mikey exchanged a glance with you and you returned it with a raised eyebrow

"The hell you mean brah?"

he looked at the both of you like you were the ones that had grown four extra heads before speaking again

"You literally just had a conversation with like five words and somehow just knew what the other meant? What's up with that?"

you glanced at Mikey again

"Holy shit, did we?"

"I mean, not really. You used your hands."

now all three of you were confused but it quickly became two when Casey shook his head in defeat and left the room

"You know I think he's right."

he blinked first and your staring contest ended

"But you used your hands-"

"I got autism Mikey, one does not simply not use their hands as forms of speech."

"You're-"

"Yep."

was the silence laughing at you? could it do that? it was kinda rude

"Huh, that actually makes sense, that's not mean is it?"

you shook your head no

"You're just me but fast."

Mikey agreed with that, pestered you with a few more questions, and went back about working, as did you, you saw no reason to address it further

but your cheeks burned red

"Yo- Y/N that actually explains why everyone else thinks we're a thing."

you didn't know if you could choke on air or not but you did it anyways

"Are we?"

he gave you his signature grin

"If we are then Raph owes April a hundred bucks."

you returned his smile

"Oh this oughta be good."

I'd like to preface this by apologizing for my near three week absence. Life got crazy and my writer's block hopped on a train, went through a school zone, killed seven pedestrians, and committed tax fraud before tumbling off a cliff never to be seen again.

But on the bright side- I got my SAT scores back and started some scholarship applications. Super happy with that. School's out in a few weeks so I'll be able to write more (hopefully).

Anyways, I hope I got this one down okay. I may have hyper analyzed the request so I might be a little off. But I really enjoyed doing this one and I hope you like it!

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #askbox #ask response #writing requests #writing blog #writersblock #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016

[lovextriangle]

Imagine Thorin before The Unexpected Journey

a/n: early release draft, I’ll probably edit more later!

You were never one to fall for the brooding type, but there was no stopping for the inevitable.

The dwarves showed up out of nowhere. They were passing through Gondor on their way to Dunland where Thror, Thrain, and Thorin had decided that place was their best option. Many of their following had dwindled, most headed for the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills. Dunland was a place of no importance, it was just a place for them to seek refuge. They had no plans of staying there, for the true goal was to take back their home, Erebor. Though a plan like that already had people grimacing for the bloodshed was still fresh and the loss was many. How could they overcome a beast that had defeated them so easily on their own home front.

They needed allies, they needed help, not from men, and definitely not from the elves, but from their own people, dwarves assisting other dwarves. That is what Thorin thought anyways. But with supplies running low and spirits at an all time downward spiral, they would have to start from the ground up.

About a month after the traveling dwarves had passed through Gondor and finally settled into the neighboring Dunland, Thorin seeked out work. The big city was the best place to look for it, though no one cared about the tragedies a person had been through, if you had no talent or skill, you wouldn’t find a job. Luckily dwarves were brimming with skills and their expertise was known for crafting weapons. The grandson of the King Under the Mountain, became a blacksmith of Gondor for the sake of putting food on the table. He had a perpetual frown on his face as if it was engraved there permanently.

He had all the reason to be, rumors spread fast in Gondor of what had happened to the dwarves and the almighty Smuag, the terror of their lifetime. Everyone was afraid of what the dragon would do next. Most thought that the dwarves would bring it with them somehow, as if they carried bad luck. So Thorin was well aware of how much the people of Gondor didn’t want him there. He wasn’t wanted anywhere. But the skills he possessed as a smith kept his employer from kicking him to the curb like others had done before.

“Another fine piece of weaponry Thorin. The next order is a pair of long swords,” grunted Izec the chief blacksmith of the establishment that Thorin worked for. Sweat ran down Thorin’s forehead as he leaned back to stretch out from the hammering position he had been in. His back ached, he had been finishing up the fine details of his last assignment, the entirety had taken three days, the last five hours he had just completed. He was tired and in need of a break. But Thorin liked pushing himself past that point nowadays. He didn’t really care much about his body at all, he was angry all the time, and it felt good to hammer down something that would bend to his will. If only other things in his life went that way…

“Take a lunch and be back before long, ya hear?”

Thorin only gave a nod as he wiped the sweat from his hands onto his pants as he took his leave from the shop. It was midday in Gondor and people were everywhere. The weather was hot and stuffy, no summer time breeze in the air, Thorin guessed it was just his luck. He had eaten at a couple of stands in the past, the food men served were at least better than elves but it was nothing like home. Weaving through the crowds, he ignored the glances he got, it wasn’t exactly rare to see a dwarf in Gondor but this was definitely the birthplace of men.

He hadn’t been to this particular meal stand before, he was complacent enough to try it since the others hadn’t left a lasting impression for him to seek them out. He just wanted a good, quick meal to regain his strength and head back to work.

“What’ll it be?” Thorin had to take a slight step back to take in the whole menu. “Roast will do.” His response was a curt reply, quick and ready to move on. “7 shillings,” you matched his reply, not really wanting to drag out the conversation either. This was only business after all. Out came a pouch from one of his pockets as he gathered the correct amount. You hadn’t exactly been looking directly into his eyes, just glancing over everything else about him.

He was dirty, a hard working dwarf. Long dark hair, that was thick but not matted. He took care of himself or at least his hair. His cheeks had what looked like dirt or maybe ash from a fire. Dwarves were usually blacksmiths around here so you took an educated guess. “You work with Izec?” you hadn’t intended to ask out loud but it seemed you couldn’t help yourself. There was a reason for asking after all.

Thorin met your gaze, ice cold irises told you one thing. That he wanted his meal and to be left alone. “Yes.” The one word reply, a clear warning to not ask anymore questions. “I’ve placed an order for a piece of metal myself..” it was a low response from you as you had gauged his reaction. He didn’t seem curious or to care about the details of what you had ordered at Izec’s. With that you gave him his meal and he gave you the shillings.

“Thanks.” He was gone, not stopping at any of the nearby tables set up to sit and eat. You watched as he parted ways, and wondered if he would come to your stand another day. Such cold eyes, you had the feeling he wouldn’t. Lunch hour was busy, and more customers took up your thoughts and as soon as the dwarf had came he disappeared from your mind.

A week passed before Thorin decided he had a particular craving. He had thoroughly enjoyed the roast from last time, and had wanted to stop by again. He had lasted a week only because he did not wish to be remembered, he simply wanted the good food and nothing more. Chitchat could wait until after he had reclaimed Erebor. But Thorin found that you simply couldn’t just hand him over the meal without at least one question being asked.

“How’s work?”

“What’s it like being a smith?”

“What do you think of Gondor?”

“You must really like roast, would you like to try our roasted chicken?”

No matter the angry stares or the frustrated sighs, Thorin would respond begrudgingly to each question. He liked the chicken now too, and from the four more times he had stopped by (on different days of course) it was quite apparent that this was his favorite food stand now. Because of the appetizing meals. Not because of your curious brown gaze. Our the sprinkle of freckles that were cast across your face. You had steady hands too, careful in passing and gentle in receiving. The few times your fingers had touched when he had exchanged his money had given him surprising chills. Your touch was quite cold and felt foreign from his hot temperatures.

It was getting a little easier to talk with one another. But Thorin didn’t make it to where it was ever a fluent conversation. He was only here for one thing after all. “Do you eat at Izec’s?” You decided to use up your one question on that this time. If you had counted right this would be your fifteen encounter and you still hadn’t caught his name, they just had so many other interesting things to know first, but you were getting pretty curious about that particular piece of info.

“Yes.” Thorin nodded, and the exchanged of meal for money transpired. You decided you weren’t satisfied, “Well isn’t it a bit stuffy to eat in there?” Thorin had taken one step away, “Sometimes” he agreed, not very happy that this was turning into more than the one usual question. “Well you could eat by the stand.. I give out complementary bread to my customers who do.” This was a lie, but maybe some enticing fresh bread would make him stay a little longer. “Maybe next time…” He wasn’t buying it, or maybe he wasn’t that hungry, or maybe he didn’t want to answer anymore questions. Whatever the reason, he was gone before you could talk him into it further.

Your sigh was obvious as it was loud.

“Maybe he’s just not into ya”

Your eyes immediately rolled, “Can it Howser.” The neighboring stand was a flower seller. He sold beautiful orchids when in season. But he was terribly nosy. “Well I’m just sayin, he’s only ever given you one-worded responses. Can’t get much dryer than that!” He laughed to himself at your misery. It was true you were getting nowhere in the sense of progress. Progress in what exactly? You weren’t entirely sure, maybe you could admit you had a crush on the recluse dwarf. “Any ideas then? I’ve tried to point out at least my interest,” you glumly stated, not wanting this to turn into some laughing stock at your failures.

“How about giving up?” Howser laughed, and the laughingstock it was. You glared at him as he tried to choke back his giggling. “Thanks.” You answered sarcastically and stopped paying attention to him, to which he tried to offer real advice but was left to be ignored.

Maybe giving up would become an option if the dwarf never came back. But he did come back, and it no longer took a week in between his visits. It was more frequent which had him occupying your thoughts more than the usual. The only thing that didn’t change was how uninterested he seemed in you. Which had Howser teasing you as soon as the dwarf departed. The game of chase felt like forever until that one fateful day.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, the sun taking its course to the west. It was unusual for the dwarf to come so late and even more unusual for him to be carrying a package. “What’s th-“ Your words were cut off with the thud of the item being placed on your counter. “Your order.” Thorin replied, already knowing the answer to the unfinished question. Izec was well acquainted with most in Gondor, which made him a good businessman. But once Thorin had told him about your stand and how good the food was, it was now tasked to him to deliver the finished product.

“Thank you for bringing them, you didn’t have to,” Thorin didn’t say anything as he had been told to do so it wasn’t like he was doing you a favor. With the silence, you decided to tear the parcel excited to see the results. Two beautifully slender long swords were revealed to you. Your breath was sucked in as you saw the fine lines and detailed swirls,

“Is it to your liking?”

This was the first question, he had ever asked to you. Just that had your heart rate accelerating. You assumed he had not only brought it to you, but had been the one to create such refinery. “It is, absolutely.” You beamed and he nodded, “To what name can I thank for such hard work?” You figured now was as good as anytime to finally ask the burning question. He was a mystery man, a stranger with no name, and you couldn’t continue to go on like such.

“Thorin.” He answered and had thought to himself that you had already known since most in Gondor knew from the rumors. “Thank you Thorin, I will treasure them.” He was never one for smiles, but somehow you knew he was at least proud of his work, and satisfied in knowing that you would be the one the wield them. You were positively optimistic in thinking that things would only get better with the two of you from here as he walked away. You let him go with no questions trailing him. With his back turned he held up his hand in departure, you couldn’t hold back your grin.

“Until next time,”

#the hobbit #jrr tolkien #there and back again #dwarves #dwarf #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin fic #thorin oakenshield #erebor #hobbit fanfiction #fan fic #imagine

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Lane close

Note: Inspired by @sapphirescrolls​ https://sapphirescrolls.tumblr.com/post/633710107595767808/i-had-an-obnoxious-encounter-whilst-driving-so-ya

Summary: Going home there is always traffic.

Warning: bondage, forced sex, non consent, kidnapping

Dark Thor x reader

It felt like you had been stuck in the car for over an hour. It was so infuriating that one lane could clog up traffic so badly.Throwing your head back on the seat you start to stare aimlessly at the taillights in front of you.

Incoming traffic rushed by, but out going was yet again a drag. You could've sworn the construction workers were just fucking about instead of working. If there were any other options as a home route you would have taken it, but unfortunately there wasn't one.

Since the weather had been unusually fair you decide to roll the windows down.  

"Hey Siri, play my rush hour playlist" you call out to your cell.

The robotic voice came alive on your command, changing from the radio to your music. Tapping your finger on the steering wheel in time with the beat you sing to yourself while sitting through this slow torture.

"HEY!" Someone called out. Checking your rear-view you scanned to see if someone behind you was trying to get your attention. From what you saw the driver behind you seemed to be on his phone so maybe you were just hearing things.

"HEY!" Even with the music blaring that voice pierced through.

Scanning all around this time your eyes land on a giant of a man in an orange safety vest and hard hat. One of the road workers was waving his hands in the air trying to signal you. Scrunching your brow you look at him curiously. His bright smile was certainly infectious as he began dancing when your attention was focused on him. He was surprisingly on beat, but the sight of it was so goofy you had to laugh and the more you watched goaded him to do more.

*HONK HONK HONK

"Okay, okay" you say to the car behind you even though they couldn't hear you. Turning your focus back on the road and get in gear. He had distracted you so much that you hadn't noticed traffic move on a bit. Without giving him another glance you drive onward to home.

The construction on the road had been going on for over a month and you truly couldn't tell what they were working on out there. At least it never hindered you going into work. As you passed the closed lane in the morning you would glance over at the abandoned equipment while you wait at the light to change colors again.

When you were in the office your days were filled with meeting after meeting. The first one was just about to start and you were the only one in the conference room. Walking over to the window you watched the construction workers start their day along the outstretched roadway.

"Hey Y/N, you coming to lunch with us tomorrow?" Cathy's voice broke you from your trance at the window.

"What's going on tomorrow?"

"Tiffany is having a going away lunch. It's going to be at Zoe's kitchen since it's just right across the street"

"Ugh I hate that place, but I will go."

Moving from the window you take the seat next to her at the conference table. "Do you take Woodway avenue to go home?" You ask the curly haired accountant as she opens her laptop.

"I used to, but the traffic has been so bad." She answered. "I normally go over to Sam's since it's the other way. By the time I leave there traffic is normally cleared out."

"Oh, wow. How long has this been going on?" You integrate her.  

"I had been dropping hints to him for a while, then one late night a few weeks ago"Cathy's mysterious grin spread on her lip.

"Cathy! In the office" you try and lower your voice after the shock. She only shrugs while you shake your head in disapproval. "Any who I was sitting in traffic yesterday and heard someone shouting. I look over to see this road worker shouting at me then he starts dancing like a fool."

"Was he cute though?"

"That’s besides the point"

"So he was cute then...Next time take a picture I wanna see this construction hottie" she jokingly asked as more people started to file into the conference room.

When you got into your car at the end of the day you were happy to leave, but not excited about what lay ahead. Your gas indicator was dangerously low today and you cursed yourself for not filling up your tank last night. You knew it was enough to get home, but the gas at the station a few blocks from here was cheaper than the one by your apartment.

As the dead lock breaks to allow you to drive more than a few inches you signal so that you can get over in time to reach the station.

Pulling in you parked in front of the pump. The tank was on the passenger side so you walked around, popped the cap and grabbed the hose.

The bell on the gas station door chimed behind you. Spilling from the doors a group of road workers presumably on break or grabbing snacks for their journey home. Your head reflexively turned towards the noise then your eyes locked with the golden haired goofball from yesterday. When he saw you his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Hey!" he shouted and waved at you excitedly dancing his dance making you snort. When your hear the click from the hose you turn away. Pulling out the nozzil you put it away and walk to get back into your car. Glancing up you spot him looking back at you, waving goodbye as he and his group walk over to a large  red pickup truck. You wave back then startup reluctantly ready to sit through this traffic jam again.

In the rear-view you spot the massive truck he got into. It trailed a few cars behind, but it wasn't hard to miss.

Even after you broke free of the jam it seemed to be heading in the same direction as you. To ease your mind you drive into McDonald just before your turn off point. It was another late night of coming home and cooking for yourself wasn't going to happen.

After you placed your order through the speaker you see his car pull in too.

You are just being paranoid. He is probably hungry. You're overthinking things.

Paying for your food you then leave and speed on toward your street. Peeking at your rear-view you spot his truck again in the far distance.

Calm down. This is a popular road a lot of people take this route.

Shaking off the paranoia as you spot your street sign. Signaling you pull into the turning lane. As you waited at the light you watch as the truck gets closer, but the light turns green before you can see if he gets into the same lane. Turning on your street you breathe a sigh of relief when you saw it kept going straight instead of turning down your road.

The next day lunch came around before you knew it. Leaving your desk you go and grab Cathy. When you do she's shamelessly flirting with her new office bae, Sam.

"You ready to go or..." You ask leaving enough space for innuendo as you poke your head in through Sam's office.

"Yes, yes" Cathy turns to you pouting. "I'll see you tonight" she pecked him on the cheek before heading to the elevator with you.

Exiting the office you two head out toward Zoe's, chatting about the usual office gossip. The bustling sound of the road work buzzed around your office building. The walk to Zoe's would be brief, but noise and the smell of tar had you regretting the choice to go out for lunch.

"Oh my gawd there he is" you point in the direction of the statuesque blonde currently jack hammering the road. In his bright orange vest you could see pools of sweat seep through. His sleeves clung to his toned arms, his muscles flexed as the machine pounded and you wondered what the rest of him looked like underneath.

"Oh damn" Cathy exclaimed practically drooling at the sight of him. You had to nudge her ribs to stop her from staring.

The pedestrian light turned green as you two approached allowing your little group to cross the street. As your pumps hit pavement you heard his distinct call. Cathy turned her head to look before you did. When your eyes landed on him, he did his little dance this time adding in a crotch grab then blowing you a kiss. The shock of the lewd gesture had you both scrunching your faces in disgust before turning away and continuing on. He shouted at you more but you refused to give him anymore attention.

You checked your traffic app to see if there was anyway to avoid Woodway, but all the road lines were colored red. Signaling that they would be just as bad as going around.

Instead of sitting in traffic again you decided to stay in the office later. Spending an hour in the office sounded better than an hour in traffic.

You passed the time shooting off a few emails, scheduling a few client meetings and reading through some paper work you had put off earlier in the day. Checking your watch after all that done you were satisfied that enough time had passed so you pack up to leave.

Pulling out of the parking garage you were relieved that traffic had indeed cleared up. Though it was late you were tired of fast food. With all the road work you found it easier to get drive through than cook. Breaking from routine you head to the grocery store.

Walking down the various aisles while you load up your cart. The smell of fabric softener wafted through the air. The fragrant smell reminding you that you were running low on detergent.

Going down the aisle you find your favorite brand and smell the clean scent of the box.

"Hey!" The familiar voice of the construction worker startled you causing you to drop the box of detergent on the floor. "Oh sorry" his accent caught you off guard as well, he had only ever said one word to you before this point. Walking up closer as you bent to pickup the box.

"It's OK." As you rose to straighten. Your eyes roamed his stature you noticed he held a case of beer in one hand and his cell in the other. From the distance in your car you had thought he was tall, but now as he stood so close you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

"I just want to say sorry for the other day...I was trying to do that Michael Jackson dance and well..." He trailed off.

"That's what that was?" You cocked a brow at him. "Michael would probably roll over in his grave if he knew." You playfully kid him. He erupted with such laughter you were slightly embarrassed at the volume.

Clutching the detergent close to your chest you take one step back while he took one step forward. He stopped laughing and just smiled down at you.

"My name's Thor"

"I'm Y/N"

There was a thick silence that fell before you spoke again. "Well, I should go" you move your cart and start to push it away.

"You're checking out right me too" his smile was so infectious, but you couldn’t match his energy.

He followed beside you as you made your way to the checkout line. His presence almost suffocating as he walked quietly next  to you.

He waited behind you in line and you thanked your lucky stars there wasn't anything embarrassing in your cart this time around. When the cashier finished you waved him goodbye and walked off as fast as you could, but he caught up to you before you could exit the automatic doors.

In the dim light of the parking lot his pickup truck stuck out like a sore thumb in the distance. Luckily it was on the opposite aisle from yours.

"Sooo news on when that road might be fixed?" You try and break the awkward silence.

"Oh I don't know. I just do the work they don't tell me anything" he answered rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow" you say as you approach your car. Waving goodbye you separate and push your cart to the back of your car. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but you had already started on your jaunt to the trunk.

Loading the car you peer over to see Thor in his truck lit by the light of his cellphone through his windshield. After closing the trunk you hop in the car. Starting the car you ready yourself to back out.

*POP

"What the fuck?" You exclaimed as your car gyrated in a peculiar manner. A worried crinkle rested on your forehead as you contemplated the obvious.

Putting the car back in park you take your phone and get out to examine the tires. The front driver side was fine, but when you walked to the rear the back was tattered and flat. Bending down you look for what could have caused such damage.

"You okay?” Thor boomed from behind you. His branch of an arm resting on his open window as he watches you bent over examining the flattened wheel. His truck now parked beside yours.

"Yeah, just a flat." You reassured him. You unlock your phone and lookup triple A while Thor hops out of his truck. "I have someone coming it's fine Thor" you try and wave him off, but he doesn't leave. Thor's arm wraps around your waist pulling you flush to his chest. Your phone drops from the surprise embrace. "What the hell are you doing?" You shout at him while digging your nails into his arm as you try and pry free.

He didn't answer you and the more you struggled the tighter his hold seemed to be as he inched closer to his vehicle. Thor opened the back door of his truck with one hand as you fought to get out of his other. Your feet lifted from the ground as he brought you up and tossed you in. When your back hit the leather of the seat you rise on your elbow and scurry backwards until your back hit the opposite window. Turning to open that door Thor yanks your ankle so hard that your entire body lays flat along the cushion again.

You somehow free your ankle and kick over a tool box behind the passenger seat in the process. The contents spilling in and out of the truck. The next kick landed in the center of his chest, but he catches it right before its impact.

"This isn't funny Thor let me go!" You demand. Thor ignored you and proceeded to pull off your shoe. Once removed he then tosses it over his shoulder.

His eyes stayed laser focused on you while he placed kisses on the top of your foot then trailed them gently down your leg. You try freeing yourself from his clutches again until Thor stopped. You watched on as he opened his mouth wide on your thigh then sinking his teeth into your meaty flesh. You whale loudly from the pain then shoot forward to grab a fist full of hair. Pulling it as hard as you can until his hands encircle your wrist. Pushing them together he holds them with one hand while the other digs through the mess of tools on the floor.

"You know you were always the highlight of my day?"

Your eyes grew wide at the sight of the thick white plastic strips. Twisting and thrashing under him he only scoffs at your attempts. Looping the zip tie around your wrists then around the handle of the back door. The tightness of the restraints only increased as you struggled, your fingers starting to tingle at the loss of circulation.

"Construction was actually supposed to be finished a long time ago, but I made sure to get the project delayed."

Hovering over you once he locked you in place his once infectious smile turned sinister. Lowering himself back down his meaty palm glided up and down your exposed thigh. Pushing your skirt past your waist he starts to pull your panties down as your legs continue to flail. Catching your knees with his hands he forces your knees to bend so that he could comfortably wedge himself in-between.

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to do this" your words were filled with panic and fear. There was nowhere to move as his head lowered down.

"Wait, wait. I have money. Just in my purse" you sob. "Thor your a nice guy please, donnnnnnnnnnn't" your whiny sobs did nothing to stop his assault.

He flung your panties out of the door and stared at your folds before lowering himself further. His hot breath sending shivers up your spine.

He hummed as he flattened his tongue on your folds. Your hips bucked involuntarily when he sunk his tongue inside you.

Dipping it in and out causing a moan to spring from your lips. No matter how hard you begged he did not relent it was as if your protests urged him on. Holding your legs apart you felt his fingers dig into you. The pain of his grasp and the overwhelming sensation of his tongue drove you mad.

"Oh sweetheart you taste so sweet." He said pulling back from your panting form.

Your shirt was still tucked in your skirt so Thor haphazardly pushed it up and out. Moving the fabric halfway up your neck to expose your breast. When he pulled down on your bra a strap broke.

"Sorry about that" Thor chuckled as he took both breast in his hand, pushing them together then began kneading them like dough. He hissed as he played with you as your protest fell on deaf ear.

Moving his head down to your chest Thor rubbed his course beard harshly over your breast. Inhaling each deeply before trailing kisses all around the top. His hands released your breast and you watched on in horror as he tossed his shirt, pushed his pants down his waist along with his boxers.

"No no no" you cry out as Thor pushed up almost level with you. The weight of him almost crushing your chest. His hand clasped your chin and forced your head forward to face him when you tried looking away.

"I am going to make you so happy Sweetheart"

The back door remained open as he pressed the head of his cock into your mound. Feeling the pressure of him pushing into you Thor devoured your lips before you could let out another cry for help.

Thor took his time as he eased into you. His tongue invading your mouth as you felt him stretch you. He smelled of sweat and tar. His hair cascaded over you while his hands roamed your body. Squeezing and pinching on your fatty flesh so hard that your body jerked and jolted.

Thor's speed increased as time went on and you felt your pussy grip and hold him. Betraying you to take pleasure from his forceful violation. His cock plunged deeper and deeper as your cries turned to heavy mewls. He pulled away from your lips with a deep groan.

"That's it Sweetheart" he praised as your cunt gripped his cock repeatedly. "Mmmmmmm Fuck shit!"  You came around his cock unwantedly while he continued to praise you for being such a good girl for him.

Your pussy grew wetter as you stayed at the mercy of his control. Thor moved to plant one hand on the window and snuck the other under your ass. When he gripped your cheek hard your back arched and the move allowed him to sink deeper into you. The truck rocked as he fucked harder into you. "Hear how wet you are for me." His cock ravished you, stretching you beyond your limits.

"MMMm shit!" You exclaimed as you came again around his pounding cock. As your cunt squeezed his dick you felt his cock begin to twitch inside of you. Then a warmth overflowed inside your convulsing pussy. Thor's hold would surely leave bruises as he dug into you. As a warmness bloomed in your core he stilled himself and as it leaked out he plopped down on top of you, crushing you under his weight, you felt his seed seep out of you.

After another few minutes he got up and off you. Putting on his discarded shirt and pulling up his pants. He slid out of the back seat closing the door leaving you still bound.

You heard him pop the trunk of your car and the familiar sound of plastic bags. It took a while before he reappeared at the drivers door and got in.

"All right I moved your groceries! Let's go home we both have work tomorrow." He said then started the trucks engine and set off out of the parking lot.

#dark thor x reader #black writer #dark!thor x reader #smut #dark smut #dark!thor x black!reader #dark thor x black reader #Dark!Thor x black reader #Dark Thor x black!reader

[plus-ultra-oof]

Pretty | SakuAtsu | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Ok hi so I wrote this a little while ago bc my SakuAtsu brainrot never stops and I figured I might as well share it. This is my first time posting a T-fic so please be kind lol. Also, sorry if the formatting is a mess I am on my phone.

Disclaimer: This takes place post timeskip so minor spoilers for Haikyuu! It’s nothing to major other than some vague things mentioned in passing. Also includes swearing and centers around tickling within a romantic setting (all sfw).

Summary: Sakusa’s stubborn as hell, but Atsumu is more than willing to get his boyfriend to go to sleep by whatever means necessary. Especially if that means he gets to see that pretty smile of his.

——————————————————

“Ya know, yer hair is really soft Omi,” Atsumu said, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the room. It was actually Kiyoomi’s room in his apartment this time. Atsumu was lying on his bed, running his hands through Kiyoomi’s dark curls as the other man laid across the bed, head placed conveniently in the setter’s lap as he attempted to read a book. He was far too tired to do so, in Atsumu’s professional opinion. The way his eyes kept falling shut for longer between blinks and how his grip on the hardcover kept shifting until he was barely holding it open where it lay against his propped up legs supported it too.

“You already- said that,” he replied, trying for flat and uninterested but the cute yawn that interrupted his sentence completely contradicted his unbothered persona.

It’d been a long practice for everyone, but especially the spikers. Both Bokuto and Sakusa had to run an insane amount of cut shot drills on top of their usual work. Just watching it had made Atsumu tired, so he could only imagine how Omi was feeling. The man had been practically dead on his feet when they’d gotten back to their complex, so the way he had melted into their bed upon finally brushing his teeth was unsurprising. His attempts at staying up were though. Atsumu blamed that on his insistence on keeping his routine no matter what.

The stubborn bastard could barely keep his eyes open, but sure, making it through a whole chapter of that thick ass book was totally plausible.

“It’s true though,” Atsumu was quiet for a moment and then, when he got no response he added on, “and it’s so pretty too,” For that he received a half hearted glare that was dampened by the way he could feel the man leaning into his touch as his fingertips scratched lightly again his scalp. The twin smiled, his boyfriend really lost his filter when he was this tired.

Gone were the biting remarks and cold expressions, leaving him far more pliant than he would ever admit to. Hell, here he was, letting Atsumu play with his hair and letting out little sighs of contentment. His eyes were even gradually falling closed as he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

The harsh lines of his face were softened by the low light in the bed room, and with his brows uncreased by any worries and his hair pooled around his head like a dark halo, he looked almost angelic. Like something out of one of those fancy paintings.

“Yer so pretty Omi,” Atsumu murmured absently, the words falling from his lips easily. It was a statement to him. A simple truth of life.

The sky was blue, volleyball was the best, and Atsumu’s boyfriend was a damn masterpiece.

This was only proved further when his cheeks began to warm, the pink flush only complimenting smooth skin and pouty lips, twitching down into a petulant frown despite his flustered state.

“Shut it,” he mumbled in reply, unable to come up with a proper comeback in his half asleep state. Atsumu smirked. Another thing he loved about sleepy Omi was his inability to disguise any of his reactions. It always made messing him even more fun.

“Omiiii, Yer so cute m’gonna dieeeeee,” he teased, leaning down to admire his expression more closely. The new angle let him see the minuscule twitch of the corner of his lips, a sign that his adorable boyfriend wasn’t really as grumpy as he was trying to appear, “Aw is that a smile I see?” Said boyfriend had abandoned all hopes of reading his book in favor of moving off of Atsumu’s lap and onto his side of the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Atsumu,” he stated, his voice still managing to stay level and unaffected, a true testament to Sakusa’s insane amount of self control, “Now its late, let’s go to sleep,” Too bad Atsumu was too much of an asshole to let him be. And, he knew him well enough to chip away at that carefully crafted mask until his boyfriend was puddy in his hands.

Miya pouted and moved closer, letting his right hand come back up to rest in his curls again and the other land at his back, rubbing slow circles into it the way he knew Sakusa liked.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that, I just want ta see that gorgeous smile of yers,” he let his chin rest on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, pressing close to his back as his arm trailed down to wrap around his waist. He placed a light kiss against his boyfriend’s temple. The first in a trail that led down his cheek to his jaw and then took a detour down and up his neck to reach his ear again, earning soft sighs and hums as he went. Atsumu smiled, his Omi really was sweet like this: All peaceful and relaxed and unassuming, “Do me a favor and lemme see it?”

He shifted from kissing at his neck to mouthing lightly and letting his lips graze the expanse of soft pale skin at his disposal and the reaction was immediate, even if Sakusa tried to hide it. Sure, he stayed quiet, but Atsumu could feel the shivers that ran through him when he started and how his shoulders began to shake the longer he went on. He felt him jump when he let the fingers at his waist trace lazy shape into his toned stomach.

“Atsumu-“ His name was rushed out in a breathy way that only Atsumu got to hear.

“Yes Omi?” He purred, directly into his boyfriends ear, savoring the little squeak that came from the man shaking in his arms.

“N-no,” he whined, actually whined, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the tingly sensations that were quickly perforating his sleep addled mind and making him want to give into the bouncy feeling rising in his chest.

“Why not Omi? M’just tryin ta kiss ya?” He followed his movements easily, continuing the playful torment of his boyfriend.

“You- you know exActly whehy not!” The squeak was louder this time and Kiyoomi even let a few titters loose as Atsumu started using his other hand to lightly scribble at the other side of his neck while simultaneously blowing into his ear.

“Ooh was that a giggle there Omi? What’s happenin’ baby? Somethin’ funny?” Atsumu knew that if he could, Sakusa would be griping about the teasing and how this whole thing was immature and unfair. For now though, he was too busy trying (and failing) not to devolve into a ticklish mess, so Miya was content.

“Nahaha stahahap yohuhu bahahastard!” He forced out through his giggles. The sound was light and filled with gasping breathes and squeals. Kiyoomi hated it, but it was one of Atsumu’s favorite sounds. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it.

Whether it came from unraveling him like this or timing a sarcastic joke just right, he savored it each time he got to hear it, so he didn’t appreciate it when both ungloved hands flew up to muffle it.

“Hey what’dya do that for?” He asked, his own pout forming on his lips as he leaned up to see his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut again and the flush was even brighter now. What was really captivating though, was the way his whole face seemed to brighten, even with his open mouth smile covered up.

Atsumu couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few seconds before remembering the task at hand. To see that pretty smile for real.

“C’mon Omi, just pull yer hands away or m’gonna haveta resort to extreme measures,” Atsumu increased his effort at leaving barely there kisses along Kiyoomi’s neck, feeling his heart race against his lips when he reached the pulse point. This got a cacophony of muffled squeaks and giggles before he finally gave into instinct and moved one of his hands away to push at his face.

As soon as it came up, Atsumu saw his chance and took it.

The hand that was drawing shivery patterns over sharp hip bones immediately skittered up Sakusa’s side to find its mark just above his ribs, sending the arm crashing right back down with a muffled shriek.

“Pffft phmp uff,” Came the dampened response as the other hand stayed stubborn in its quest to deprive Atsumu of his happiness. He decided to take it up another notch, because despite his tiredness, his Omi-Omi was still able to put up a good fight. He wouldn’t have him any other way: As headstrong as he was talented.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Atsumu leaned back just enough to leave some space between himself and Kiyoomi’s back. For insurance and safety purposes, he threw a leg over his waist to make sure he would fall off the bed.

Then all bets were off.

He started actually scratching at his armpits in tandem with leaving sloppy kisses along his spine and shoulder blades and any other part of his back he could reach at the moment, and the reaction was instantaneous and oh so satisfying.

“Mmmmphhhuhuhuck AtsuhuHU! NaHAHA STAHAP!”

“What babe? Somethin’ wrong?” He made sure to speak against the skin of his back, his words sending ticklish tremors through Kiyoomi as his worst spot was attacked.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE AHATSUHU!” Something seemed to switch off in his brain as his arms finally fell limp at his sides and he threw his head back against the pillows, laughing fully now. When they did, Atsumu immediately toned it down, abandoning his underarm in favor of leaving feather light scratches down the sides of his boyfriend’s back, making him shiver and keeping him caught up in his giggles without torturing him too bad.

Omi could never say that he was anything but nice about this....Well at least at this particular moment. Sakusa definitely kept a dated list of the times that his boyfriend had ruthlessly abused this specific weakness, but that was besides the point.

“Ahatsuhuhu,” Atsumu looked up at the sound of his name falling from upturned lips and found himself mesmerized by the sight.

Now that Kiyoomi had given up on stopping him he’d shifted to flop down on his stomach, bracing his head on his arms as he tried to contain the shaky laughter still spilling easily from his mouth. His hair was tousled from the struggle and his eyes were teary from laughing so hard and he was in an eternal state of flushed and fuck he was beautiful.

Too pretty for his own good. And Atsumu’s. At this rate, he was gonna die before he got to the Olympics.

He could just see it now: Miya Atsumu, beloved son, brother, boyfriend, and teammate. Cause of death: Seeing his godlike boyfriend laugh his heart out.

Shit, ‘Samu was right, he was whipped.

“Tsuhuhuhumuuu, m’tired,” Whiny giggles followed by a familiar yawn brought him out of his thoughts and he let his fingers slow to a stop, moving up in the bed to be beside his still giggling boyfriend. He turned him over onto his back before placing his book onto the nights stand and turning out the light.

“A-asshole,” Sakusa groaned, through breathy pants, giving him a half-hearted shove as he turned to face the blonde.

“But ya love me,” he teased moving in closer to lay his head on the dark haired man’s chest, listening patiently as his heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“You suck,” he murmured in response, his tone empty of any real malice. Plus, the way he was snuggling closer and lacing their hands together across Atsumu’s waist contradicted his words anyway.

Atsumu smiled and took a final look at his boyfriend before closing his eyes to follow him into sleep. And as a man of a limited vocabulary when it came to most things other than volleyball, his last thoughts prior to drifting off were as simple as they were true: Omi’s so pretty.

#sakuatsu #ticklish!Sakusa #haikyuu! tickle fic #tickle fic #tickle #tickles #tickling #fanfiction #haikyuu!! #thanks for reading

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

chapter twenty

a taste of his own medicine

previous < masterpost > next

“Hey… uhm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure where to start because I’ve been the worst friend to ya for the past weeks. But I want to start with an apology, I guess… yer probably tired of hearing it, right? … it’s something I’ll never gonna be proud of, my pettiness, I mean… but yeah… I’m sorry, YN. I hope ya believe me when I say yer impo–”

Beep! You sighed, ending yet another voicemail from Atsumu. It’s been almost a week since you and your brother moved out of the apartment and ever since the day after that, your soulmate has yet to cease dropping more than three voicemails every single day.

It wasn’t that you haven’t caught sight of him at school; in fact, you see him everywhere. It’s just so happens that you couldn’t help but avoid him like a plaque. You think he knows it though and you’re actually glad that he’s trying to respect your space (except for the endless ringing of your phone which only gets sent straight to voicemail every time, much like today). Which is why right now, you only stared at his contact, contemplating whether you will entertain his ‘apology.’ He sounds like he regrets it, after all and the fact that you only have less than 10 days before your flight wasn’t helping the situation.

“You know, if you keep having a soft heart like that, I’m betting a hundred bucks you won’t get too far once you become a famous writer. A lot of people will take advantage of you, you know. And don’t even get me started with those haters that disguise themselves as critiques,” Speaking of the devil, Kiyoomi suddenly spoke up, his figure leaning against the doorway of your room, much like the pose your father had when you were leaving your previous apartment.

Hundred bucks, you begin to think, where the hell would your jobless ass get a hundred bucks? You won’t tell him that verbally, of course; you value your life too much to even risk being strangled by your brother’s own hands.

“What do you mean soft heart? Where’d you even get the idea that I’m going to talk to him, doofus!? No way, he needs to learn his lesson,” You huffed, turning to him with an eyebrow raised, as if challenging him. He scoffed, entering your room, and sitting on your bed. You were kind of surprised he did given that your room was still messy as hell; but once again, you opted to keeping your mouth shut.

“It’s written all over your face, dear sister. Plus, you’ve said that a million times already I’m actually tired of hearing it now. After all these years, you think I don’t memorize every habit you have?” He replied, hands taking some of the clothes that were still stored in a brown carton and beginning to fold them neatly before standing up and putting it into your closet. He really does take after your father, from appearances to characteristics, “Your eyes, they speak to me the loudest, telling me every bit of your feelings. In fact, I’m kind of puzzled Atsumu never found out through them. But then again, it just supports the truth that he’s as dumb as he could get.”

This boy doesn’t really miss a chance to voice out his disfavor for your soulmate, huh? You wonder what is it that made him dislike… no, wait dislike was an underestimation… rather, loath Atsumu to the core. Bad first impression? No, your brother was not that petty. Did they have a fight you never knew about? If Atsumu and him ever fought, you were sure as hell you’d be the first one to know, seeing as your best friend practically whines and complains at you at every single thing in his life… so why?

“He hurt you and not just once. It’s not supposed to be my business but technically speaking, you are my sister before you were his soulmate and that’s all I needed to dislike him,” said Kiyoomi, continuing to fold your clothes as if what he said was practically nothing. Was he a mind-reader? You don’t know but perhaps, you could try to convince him to start up a fortune-telling business with you and earn millions.

“… You’re so creepy, ‘Yoomi,” You spoke up after a few moments of silence while he sneered, obviously not pleased with your comical reply, “Forget it! God, it’s so hard to have a serious talk with you.”

You only pursed your lips before bursting out into laughter, making him glare at you before his eyes softened. He hasn’t heard that pure laughter in a long time, after all. For some odd reason, he is proud that it was him that made you happy again like that, even for just a short while. After watching you work on something he doesn’t really know what, probably for the play, (it’s a relief you still have a smile on your face while you were on it though), he stands up, stopping by the doorway again when he heard you speak, “Thanks for being there, ‘Yoomi. Can’t imagine my life without my best brother.”

Kiyoomi knows he’s far from being the best brother in the world; he wasn’t expressive, sweet nor overprotective… but hearing those words from you means he’s at least good and somehow, he’s fine with that. He remains quiet before saying, “You know, your friend Hajime, I think he’s nice.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he knows that his words reached you; he didn’t miss the way you blushed, after all. He takes note of making you flustered more often.

Osamu grumbles under his breath in annoyance, clenching then unclenching his hands as he watched Yui cling onto his brother’s arm like there was no tomorrow. Doesn’t this girl have any decency left in her blood? They were in the public cafeteria of the university, good heavens! And they haven’t even officially became soulmates AND a couple.

The last thing he wanted on his agenda today was to become a third wheel, much less to his brother; and the fact that it’s not even with you, the true soulmate, his favorite Sakusa (he won’t let Kiyoomi know that though), and best drinking buddy, makes it more unbearable for the gray-haired lad. He could only scowl so hard at his twin, who on the other hand, remained unmoved. At least that’s what Osamu sees but unbeknownst to him, Atsumu just wishes he could go and find you as soon as possible.

He has had enough of you averting your gaze each time you catch each other’s eyes at the theater room. According to his brother, your flight is in ten days which means he only had a few more days to make your friendship right; to make it up to you and prove that you are, indeed, an important figure in his life (cue Osamu’s mocking last night when they talked: “HAH!? You sure do have a peculiar way of showing her that she’s important. You’re making me want to laugh and choke you at the same time.”)

“Oh! Iwaizumi-kun, Tooru and… Sakusa YN?” Yui trails off, making the blonde perk up at the sound of your name, turning his body quickly only to find you already looking back at them with… disappointed eyes? As quickly as it came, it disappeared and soon, you were smiling and waving at Osamu, completely ignoring your “best” friend. Atsumu can only stare at you in disbelief; never, not even once, had you disregarded his existence like that before. Even when you had small arguments, you made sure to acknowledge him with a simple nod.

In addition to your indifference, Hajime only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Yui’s greeting, as if he doesn’t know Yui at all, not even as an acquaintance. Hence, the three of you only proceeded to the table Makki, Mattsun and your brother saved for you.

“Eh? Iwaizumi… ignored me?” Yui frowned, obviously not used to being disregarded by the boy who used to give her a greeting every time they come across each other. As far as she could remember, they ended their bond in good terms, without anyone having to feel angry at the other so why is it that he acted that way? Did he hold a grudge after all?

Meanwhile, Atsumu gazed into nothing, your sad eyes flashing into his mind and staying there. Have you given up on him already? Did his nightmare that day actually came true? His trail of thoughts was cut off with Osamu’s voice speaking with amusement plastered on his face, “ooh, a taste of his own medicine, huh YN?”

He smirks, finding his brother’s suffering oddly satisfying. He too, like Kiyoomi, has his limits as to Atsumu’s undesired talent of hurting you (he knows the blonde was also suffering but you know, it just really gets on his nerves how blind his twin could get). So right after saying that, he stands up, picking up his tray that holds his food and beginning to walk where your table was.

“Samu! Where are you going?” The said lad looks back at his blonde twin weirdly before shrugging, “YN and Kiyoomi’s table, where else? You can’t expect me to stay on the table with you two, it’s weird.”

“So… you really can’t remember anything about your soulmate? Like who it is or something?” Oikawa asked, staring at Hajime’s hands, as if he’d be able to see anything on his pinky. Unfortunately for him, the ex-captain was not given the ability to be a Moira so he wouldn’t be able to see any changes no matter how long or hard he looks. The spiky-haired lad merely groans, feeling a headache coming due to his dear friend’s pestering, “Yes. I told you that already. I just woke up, saw my thread black and now, I can’t remember anything about who it is.”

“But you can remember us? It’s just the soulmate stuff you forgot?”

“Well, I’m talking to you right now, am I not, you dumbass?” Hajime snarled; an inch close to punching his best friend in the face. Beside him, you look down, feeling the sadness and heartbreak for him because even those feelings were lost the moment he woke up. If you let go of Atsumu, will this also happen to you? You can only give a pathetic laugh at your silly question; of course, it will. You weren’t some kind of special Moira that will be exempted from that ‘curse.’ But you wonder, how would he react? Would he be sad? Or would he just forget about you too and just throw everything you had away? It seems so easy for him to do that, after all.

Now that you witness what’s gonna happen upon cutting the thread, a part of you somehow wishes you should’ve just told him when it was still early, when you were still young and problem-free. Maybe he would’ve given you a promise like those in the movies wherein he says he would marry you once you get older. Maybe he would’ve been able to love you if you could’ve just given him a chance to do so. But it’s your fault, isn’t it? Because you were a coward; you were so greedy for true love that you can no longer have it, you think to yourself.

In the midst of your rather negative thoughts, a warm hand pulls you away from mentally beating up yourself further. Looking up, you find Hajime looking at you with soft eyes, as if assuring your heart that: “You’ll be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe… just maybe, the universe has given you another chance for true love.

marga's notes. I HAVE FOUND A NEW HUSBAND AND HIS NAME'S BENIMARU SHINMON

taglist is closed

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #atsumu smau #iwaizumi smau #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons

[ellewriteswrongs]

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night. 

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing. 

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway. 

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news. 

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it. 

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night. 

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win. 

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus. 

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin. 

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face. 

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless. 

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless. 

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value. 

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it. 

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever. 

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them. 

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old. 

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair. 

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face. 

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all. 

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related. 

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat. 

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!” 

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose. 

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out. 

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment. 

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out. 

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign. 

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green. 

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?” 

Remus choked on his own spit. 

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids. 

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off. 

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm. 

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house. 

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile. 

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip. 

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them. 

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him. 

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn��t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face. 

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot. 

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries. 

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head. 

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him. 

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk. 

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face. 

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle. 

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms. 

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth. 

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night. 

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate. 

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within. 

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing. 

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him. 

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe. 

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way. 

#anyway.......i would die for them #my writing #tsbandau #sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus

[queenxxxsupreme]

In the Lamplight (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: This has really no plot except I got upset because of what Arthur can say when he looks in a mirror and it makes me just wanna hug him and kiss the sad cowboah away. Also, I’m trying out Arthur calling his S/O pumpkin instead of the usual ‘darlin’. Here’s another Arthur Morgan fluff if you wanna take a look at it:)

Warnings: self image issues, Arthur having issues with himself as a person??? I don’t know the right way to word it, self conscious!Arthur Morgan, shy!Arthur Morgan I think?, sad but fluffy ending, very fluffy 

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Arthur has issues with himself, but you do your best to make sure he knows just exactly why you love him. 

**picture isn’t mine**

The light from the oil lamp flickered, casting ominous shadows across Arthur’s face. 

He stood in front of the mirror in just a pair of jeans, studying his features with a scowl etched into his face. He was in the process of changing when he caught sight of himself on the reflective surface. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help it. 

He could see more wrinkles by his eyes than he recalled from the last time he had looked into a mirror. For as long as he could remember, he had a few sunspots on his face. It came with years of working outside, of being out in the elements and exposed to the sun. 

Scars littered nearly every inch of his skin. Some were big and nasty looking, while others were small and barely visible. 

A hand on his side made him blink, pulling him from his trance-like state. 

You were peaking around his shoulder, peering up at him with your brows knit together. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, pumpkin.”

“Then why were you starin’ for so long?” You looked to the mirror, rubbing your hand up and down his side. 

“Just cause.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Why’d you get outta bed? Ya aren’t wearin’ any socks. Your feet are gonna get cold.”

“I called your name twice. You didn’t answer.” You kissed his bare shoulder. “Had me worried.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“M’thinkin’ about tomorrow, pumpkin. We gotta long trip ahead of us. Gotta make it to camp before sundown. Don’t wanna be travelin’ after nightfall.”

You nodded and moved to get into bed, pulling up your chemise so you could climb into the bed. 

“How many scars you reckon I get a year?” Arthur asked, unbuckling his belt and shucking off his pants. 

“Just depends on how many reckless and stupid decisions you make in a year.” You pulled the blankets up over your legs. 

He barked out a laugh, but it was short lived. 

You watched Arthur as he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He let out a heavy breath, running a hand over his face. 

“You ever…. You ever think ‘bout anyone else?”

You drew your brows together, tilting your head to the side.

“What kind of question is that, Arthur?”

He sat back, rubbing his thigh as he locked his jaw for a moment. 

“At the saloon earlier…. That fella that was gettin’ chatty with you…. Who was he?”

You were quiet for a few moments, carefully reading Arthur’s body language. He was rigid and tense, and he sat on the opposite end of the bed from you. It was like he was trying to put space between you two.

You knew how insecure he was about himself, though he rarely vocalized it. He hated how he looked and he hated himself. It hurt you to know how poorly he felt about himself. 

“A rancher. Didn’t catch his name.” You answered, glancing down at your hands. You brushed your fingers over the top quilt, tracing the stitching to keep your hand occupied.

The man he was talking about was some stranger who had tried to get friendly with you at the saloon in town earlier in the evening when you and Arthur stopped in for drinks. Arthur stepped out for a moment and when he returned, there was a man, maybe ten years younger than him, in his seat. You didn’t flirt with him and Arthur knew this, but the voice in his head had been getting louder and louder all evening, demanding that he address the situation. 

“I wasn’t interested in findin’ out.”

“Why not?” Arthur didn’t look at you. He was too busy staring at the floor in front of him. 

“That’s a silly question. Because I have you.”

He cleared his throat, shifting in his spot. 

“Do I-I hold you back?”

“That’s another silly question. Where is this coming from?” You looked up at him. 

“I’m just…. I don’t know. Just thinkin’.”

“Well you better stop all that thinkin’. It’s not doin’ you a lick of good. You don’t hold me back from anything, Arthur.”

He said nothing, keeping his eyes on the floorboards in front of him. 

You wanted to lay down, to tell him that you both needed the sleep, but you knew he just needed time.

You stayed sitting against the headboard, eyes flickering around the room for a while. You didn’t want to fall asleep without him. 

“Be honest with me, pumpkin.” He murmured quietly, his eyes still avoiding yours. He messed with his fingers now, picking at his nails. “Tell me something that you don’t like about me.”

“Arthur-,”

“Don’t go telling me that nonsense ‘bout how you like everything about me. That’s horseshit.” He cut you off, but he never raised his voice. “Be honest with me.”

“You want me to be honest?”

He nodded, eyes closing as if he was  preparing himself to hear the worst. 

You pushed the quilts off of yourself and shifted around to sit on your knees. 

“Come here, Arthur.” You spoke his name softly, patting the space on the bed in front of you. 

He hesitated, blue eyes flickering from your hands to the bed, then up to you. 

He stood up and moved around the bed, coming to sit on the edge next to you. He was being stubborn and not facing you, so you climbed into his lap. 

Instinctually, his hands came up to hold on to your backside. 

You reached up to cup his jaw, fingertips brushing along his scruff. He leaned into your touch for just a moment. You wished he did it more often. 

You let your index and middle finger create an imaginary line along his jaw to his chin. From there, you went down the front of his neck. Your eyes followed your touch, admiring every little scar that tried to hide beneath his growing beard. 

He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your fingers. You smiled a little. His eyes fluttered shut. 

“There is so much to you, Arthur Morgan.” You whispered. “So much to admire and to love about you.”

Your touch traveled down to his collarbone. You found a scar from a knife there. The skin was jagged and much more pale than the rest of him. 

You recalled hearing about how it was from one of the O’Driscolls. He’d run out of bullets and ended up in a knife fight with another man. Lenny recalled there being three O’Driscolls in all, but Arthur never went into detail about it. 

Arthur watched you, the way your eyes examined the scar carefully as if you’d never seen it before. He was just about to open up his mouth and ask you when you leaned forward to kiss it. 

Goosebumps broke out across his skin and a wave of heat rushed through him. 

He expected you to pull away, but you didn’t. You kissed the front of his neck and then nuzzled your nose against chin, gently coaxing him to tilt his head to the side. 

He was a little confused, but he followed your silent instructions, bearing his neck to you. He felt exposed and naked, more so than he did when you two were intimate. You were kissing his neck. Your hand was creeping up his chest, your featherlike touch trailing up along the opposite side of his neck that you were kissing. 

He let out a breathy gasp when your teeth scraped over his pulse. His hands tightened around his hips. 

“Hell are you tryin’ to do to me, Y/N?” He rasped.

“Just lovin’ up on you.” You teased lightly, doing your best to hide the smile on your lips. 

You pulled back, looking up at him. He held your gaze for maybe a split second before looking away. You caught his chin, holding him in your hands, and turned his head to you. 

“My least favorite thing about you, Arthur Morgan, has got to be the way you think so poorly about yourself. How…. how you think that after all we’ve been through, I’d leave you.” 

“‘Cause I know there’s men better suited for ya out there.” He mumbled, pulling your hand from his face. “I know I ain’t the greatest choice-,”

“You are for me, Arthur.” You cut him off. “You are the best choice for me.”

He shook his head, muttering a few incoherent words of disagreement under his breath. 

“Arthur Morgan, you stubborn man.” You sighed. “What makes you think you aren’t the best man suited for me?”

“‘Cause I look like an old sack of shit, goin’ round stealin’ and killin’ and…. And you- You’re just…. You’re fucking…. Can’t even find the words to fit you, pumpkin.” 

“I ain’t no show pony either, Arthur. I’ve done my fair share of sin. Shit, how the hell do you think me and Hosea met?”

He shook his head again. 

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” You leaned forward to kiss his chin. “Even if you have your doubts about us.”

“I don’t doubt us.” His hand slipped around to the small of your back. With ease, he pulled you closer to him. “If I doubted us, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You doubt me. That I’m going to stay.”

“That’s ‘cause…. ‘Cause everyone always leaves eventually.” His eyes drifted down to your chest, finding a scar where your collarbones met. “No one ever stays. I always push ‘em away. Either with my overly charmin’ personality or the whole career criminal.” He tried to make a joke to lighten the mood but you didn’t laugh. Now wasn’t the time for jokes. “Just tryin’ to prepare myself for when you do leave, pumpkin.”

“The only way I am leavin’ you, Arthur Morgan, is when I die.” You took hold of his jaw with both hands, tilting his head up so he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “I’m here and I’m not goin’ nowhere.”

His blue eyes watched you carefully, gazing into your own as his hands on the small of your back tightened a little, drawing you closer.

“I happen to like your personality. You’re a kind man with a big heart, and a funny sense of humor that not everyone gets.” You leaned forward to kiss the space between his eyes. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into you, resting his forehead against your chin. This made talking a little difficult, but you made it work. “And I’ve got a record as long as yours, Mr. Morgan. I don’t think I can use your criminal history against you. Actually, I think mine might be longer than yours….”

His broad shoulders trembled a little as he chuckled. 

“I know you haven’t had good luck in the past, Arthur.” You gently pushed him away so that you could look at him. You wanted to be able to see his eyes. “And I know every time that Linton girl writes a letter to you, it reopens old wounds, but you are more than her. You are more than just the gang. You have a big heart. You’re a good man and she’s an absolute jackass for making you think otherwise.”

“But…. how do you know that?” He asked quietly. 

You brushed your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft breath. 

“Let’s get comfortable in bed.”

You climbed off of him and clambered across the bed to settle underneath the blankets. Arthur followed behind you, getting comfortable too. You scooted as close to him as possible, hooking your leg up over his hip and resting your head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around your back to hold you to him. You put your hand on his chest and began to trace shapes into his skin. 

“You don’t kill for fun, Arthur. You try to save as many people as you can when we do jobs. You go out of your way to help others when we’re out. You remember that mom who lost her son outside of Strawberry? You helped lead the search and even after everyone gave up, you kept looking for him. And you were the one to bring him home. Or how about how when we pass someone on the street who needs money, you give them enough for food? Arthur, you would give the clothes off of your back to a complete stranger in a blizzard to keep them warm if they needed it.”

“I guess so.” He muttered.

“You’re a stubborn man, Arthur.” You kissed his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing I get to spend the rest of our lives reminding you why you’re a good man.”

“The rest of our lives?” He repeated, looking down at you with raised brows. 

“Mhm.”

“Jesus.” He groaned, though you knew he was just teasing you. 

“Don’t worry, cowboy. With our lifestyle, we never know how long it’ll be. That’s the thrill of it all.” You smiled a little and closed your eyes.

Silence fell between you two for a little bit and just as you were about to fall asleep, you felt Arthur kiss the top of your head.

“Good night, pumpkin.”

“Night, Arthur.”

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#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fic #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan fluff #queenxxxsupreme #oneshot #rdr2 oneshot

[harryibo]

No Working Tonight

Note:...hi jkhdskhf this is my first ever fic i’ve ever written so.....if its not good then this never happened lkdjjk. Anyways i’m not really sure how I feel about this so let me know what you think bc idk if i’m in love with it. Also, sorry for any mistakes like i’ve said i’ve never done this before lmao.

content: assistant!y/n X harry styles 

warnings: none really, drinking maybe. 

word count: 2.1k+

                                            ///

Y/n has been running around all day trying to get things ready for tonight. Tonight was very important and everything had to be perfect. She’s spent half of her day on the rooftop of one of Harry’s favorite fancy clubs in LA, where the party is going to be. She’s been setting up tables and making sure there was enough drinks and food for every one that RSVPed. Tonight they were celebrating the end of love on tour. Celebrating the end of the fine line era really. He’s worked so hard writing, recording and then touring. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of him. 

Now though, she can’t think about that, she needs to focus so she can finish up and head home to get ready for tonight. Just as she’s going over the last few things with the staff of the club, Harry walks in.

 “Hey!” Y/n says when she notices him “What are you doing here? You’re Supposed to be getting ready for tonight!” 

“I could ask ya the same thing! thought I told ya no workin’ tonigh’” he replies. 

“Hmm, no rest for the wicked I guess” y/n jokes. “Anyways, what are you doing here??”

 “Came to drop some things off ’or tonigh’, but I was serious! No workin’! Go home! Get ready! You’re not my assistant tonigh’ you're a Guest, and guests aren’t to arrive for a few more hours.” Harry replied.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tonight! You’ve worked hard.”

 “n’ I’m sure it will be, you’ve worked just as hard as me love, if anythin’, tonigh’ is a celebration of you to, couldn'ta done it without ya.”

“Don’t say that” y/n says, rolling her eyes. “I just follow your orders” she fake smiles at him. 

He copies her previous movement, rolling his own eyes. “go home Before I have to call security on ya, I’ll see you tonigh’ love.”

                                             ///

Y/n showed up early of course. To make sure everything was still running smoothly. And it was, of course, she was the one who set this all up after all. 

As the night went on, more and more friends and family of Harry’s have arrived. She’s never seen him so happy. He was practically glowing under all the praise he was getting. He deserved it all. 

“Y/n!” She heard Harry call, breaking her out of her thought. “Come over here! There’s someone I want you to meet!” 

She excused herself from the Conversation she was pretending to be interested in. Making her way over to Harry, grabbing another Champagne glass off a tray of a server who walked by.

“Harry” he said, placing his hand on her back and pulling her a tad bit closer. “this is y/n l/n, y/n, this is Harry Lambert.” 

“Oh, yes of course!” Y/n said, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you!” 

“As have I you!” Lambert replied. “I can’t believe it’s taken us so long to meet! As we both spend as much time with H as we do.” 

The night went on like that. Harry pulling her from groups of people to people, introducing her to everyone he could.

It would have been a little strange to y/n if she didn’t have quite as many champagne glasses in her as she did, but Harry did say she wasn’t working tonight after all. So why was he keeping her so close by? If he didn’t need her for anything, why was he making sure she wasn’t out of his sight all night? 

A couple of new acquaintances and Champagne glasses later. Jeff stepped up on a makeshift stage. “If I could get everyone's attention for just a moment please?” He said into a microphone. “Hi, I’m sorry, I’ll let you all get back to eating and mingling amongst yourselves In just a Moment, I just wanted to say a few words about the man of the hour.” 

Jeff’s promise to be just a moment did not come true. After Jeff had said a speech about how proud he was of Harry, there seemed to be a line of others who also wanted to share just how proud they were of him. And again, he was glowing. Complements looked good on him.

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was just The sheer fact that y/n was so proud of Harry that she couldn’t keep it in any longer and she felt the need to share her own speech of praise in front of all his friends and family.

Mitch was finishing up his speech, so she went and stood by the makeshift stage so when he was done, he would pass her the microphone. 

“Hi everybody.” y/n said into the mic once Mitch wrapped his speech up. “so I guess it's my turn to say a few words now.” she said with a small laugh.

“Um, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m y/n l/n, H’s assistant….servant, same thing right?” She laughed as did everyone in the crowd.

She made eye contact with Harry who was rolling his eyes at her previous joke. “no no, I’m just kidding, Harry’s actually really amazing to work with. He always jokes about he doesn’t know where he’d be without me, he’d truly lose his head if It wasn’t screwed on.” she laughs again. “but really, I’m not sure where I’d be if it wasn’t for him.” Her voice softened.

“I’m just so so proud of you and the man you have become H, and I know everyone else here is too. You are truely, the most selfless hard working man I know, and I just can’t say enough how proud I am of you. Congratulations on fine line.” She finishes, holding up her champagne glass as a toast, and the rest of the crowd follows. 

She steps off the small stage and hands the microphone over to the next person. Walking over to where Harry is standing.

He has such a content look on his face. “hey.” she starts.

“Hi.” he smiles. “thank you.” He says, pulling her into a hug. “really, your words mean a lot to me, so thank you.” 

“Of course H, I meant everything I said.” she says into his neck.

She spends the rest of the speeches by him, with his hands on both her shoulders gently swaying them both. Every once in a while she’ll look up at Harry’s face to see his endeared smile at someone talking about him on stage, or laughing at something they said. 

A few more complaints and embarrassing stories later, the night is winding down and people are starting to head out. Y/n is one of the last people there, helping clean up, and making sure all the dishes and decor that Harry brought from home himself, gets back to his place.

“’scuse me? Thought I told you no workin’ tonigh’” Harry says, walking over to her.

She smiles at him. “if I don’t do this then who will?” She starts to walk to him, meeting him in the middle when she trips, almost falling but Harry reached out and grabbed her. “woah, careful love.”

“See I told you,” she said. “wasn’t working tonight, had too much champagne.” 

“Yeah I see that, not really in a state to drive are ya?” 

“Probably not, I was gonna call myself an Uber.”

“Nonsense, ride with me?”

“Mhhh okay, but only because I’m gonna be the one calling your car round anyways. It’s the least you can do.” She jokes.

As they walk down the stairs and to the front of the building where his car is waiting for them, Harry keeps a hand on her the whole time, just in case she falls again. 

“Here ya go love.” he says, opening her door, helping her climb in, and buckling her seat belt.

“Thank you, but I can buckle myself up you know?”

“Hm, judging from that almost fall upstairs, doubtful.” Harry replies, climbing in his own seat next to her. “Home please.” He tells his driver.

“Not funny.” y/n says, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “you have fun tonight H?” 

If Harry’s heart could burst, he swears it would right then and there. “I did love.” He chuckles.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious you know?” 

“Mh so I am. You’re a sleepy drunk huh? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk before.”

“I should hope not, you’ve only ever seen me when I’m working” She says, eyes still closed.

“Suppose, did you have fun tonigh’ love?”  

“Mh” She hums. “I’m so cold.” 

“Ya cold? Comere.” He says, pulling her further into him, wrapping his arms around her and running his hands up and down her to warm her up.

“Thanks” she says sleepily.

                                           \\\

“Wake up love, we’re home.” y/n feels Harry whisper into her hair.

She stirs awake, still laying against Harry. Lifting her head up so she’s looking at him, their faces inches apart.

“Hi” she whispers.

“Lo’ love.”

“You’re so pretty.” she whispers at him again.

A couple moments pass before he whispers back. “thank you sweetheart, you’re prettier.” 

She stares up at him again, looking at his eyes, moving down to his lips when he licks them and says “let’s go inside yeah?”

“You brought me back to your house?” She Asks while he helps her step out if the car, still worried about her falling.

“Hm” he hums. “wanted to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m not that drunk H.” she laughs. “just a little sleepy s’all.” 

“Just let me take care of ya yeah?”

“That’s my job.” she laughs as Harry leads her inside his house. 

“You’re off duties tonigh’, member?”

“Guess you’re right.” 

“Hm, go get yourself changed into some comfy clothes yeah? I’m gonna get ya some water.” 

If she wasn’t so tired and ready to get out of her dress, she would have protested some more, but instead she agreed and headed upstairs to Harry’s room. She must have something here to wear. She has spent a couple nights in Harry’s guest bedroom when she was working too late and Harry didn’t want her to fall asleep on her drive home.

Instead of making her way to the guest bedroom. Something (the champagne most likely) carried her into Harry’s bedroom. She opened his closet doors and ran her fingers across his t-shirt section, that she just color coded a couple of weeks ago. 

She picked her favorite, a white shirt with blue writing that says “enjoy heath, eat your honey” and slipped it on over her head. She also slipped on some of his boxer shorts. 

Feeling more tired than ever. She walked herself over to his bed and laid down on the comforter, deciding she’d wait for Harry there.

                                           \\\

She stirred awake for the second time that night when she felt Harry pulling the comforter over her.

“Shhh, go back to sleep baby, just covering you up.” Harry whispered.

She grabbed his arm when he went to move away. “mm, where you going?” she mumbled, Sleepily. 

“Gonna go lay down in the guest bedroom Love, you stay here yeah?”

“Nooo” she whined, opening her eyes to look at him. “lay with me?”

Again, if Harry’s heart could burst, it would. “Ya want me to stay?”

She nodded her head. “Please?”

“Okay baby I’ll stay, scoot over.”

After Harry climbed into bed, she made herself at home on his chests once again.

“Comfy?” He asked.

“Mhh” she hummed, looking up at him. “Harry?”

“Yeah love?” He said, looking back down at her.

She was laying on his chests still, head facing up so that she was looking directly at him. She scanned his face, starting at his eyes, they were content, she traveled down to his lips, staying there, watching them whisper “not nice to Stare love” after a moment.

He brings his hand down to her own lips, dragging his thumb across them.

 “H?” She whispers again.

He brings his eyes back up to hers.

“Kiss me.” She says.

“What?” 

“Please.” She whispered back, pulling herself closer to him.

He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he leaned in connecting their lips, kissing her soft at first. He pulled back, looked at her again, making sure she was still alright, then leaned back in, kissing her and kissing her, until they both ran out of breath. 

She laid her chin on his chest, smiling up at him, while he’s running his fingers through her hair. 

“Ya good?” He asks, smiling at her content face. 

“The best”  She replied.

#sorry the ending sucks jhdjk #hs #mine #no working tonight #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x assistant!yn #assistant!yn #harry styles pictures #fine line #hs2 #reader insert #harry styles x you #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles au

[chidoroki]

TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I��m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn emma #norman #ray #emma #chidoroki used chatter

[littlenahsstuff]

Sally Mckenna x Reader

A/n, geez this took me forever to actually get out. Not reread so I'm sorry but hope you still like it. Also I don't know how to do the friggan read more thing so... sorry again.

WARNINGS: implied death, implied abuse, sally being possessive, unhealthy relationships, sexual reference. Uhhh yeah plz read at ur own risk.

It's a wonder to many how Sally ended up with a girl like you. Sally was a wrecked soul made of ash and fire and the gasoline lighting it and tears and pained laughs. You were a hopeful wanderer made of soft kisses and poems and snowflakes and pretty fragile flower petals and innocence. Or maybe sweetness. Even though, you were a rabbit and Sally, a fox. Possessive and cunning over her prey.

You met when you went to the Cortez to get away from your past, from the people who hurt you, from her. Truth was you were terrified of anyone and everyone and... well she said she could protect you. You believed her too.

***<>***<>***<>***

"Hey babydoll, why ya crying without a drink in your hand? After all, your at the bar and clearly because you don't want to be alone in your room," she spoke husky and blunt. You were awfully shy and you spooked easily.

"Oh I just, I'm not usually one to drink. It makes you do things," you whispered, still not meeting the ladies face. Your twiddling thumbs were looking awfully nice to you right now.

The truth was she was right, you didn't want to be alone. Not after the year of being alone with her. Though, the alcohol only served to remind you of her more, it was the only place you could go with people who you don't know. With people.

"Aw, that's okay. But c'mon I'll keep you some company, only if you let me buy you at least a little liquid courage. We can't have you being this shy with me the whole night," she ended her bargain with a deep chuckle. It was startling how quickly you agreed to her.

So making your decision you let out an okay and decided you should know what this person looks like at least.

Upon your scan of her you figured out 5 important things. 1. This woman was crying earlier and you knew because her eyeliner smudged and dripped in tracks. 2. She was wild. This was given by her frizzy blonde hair that looked as dead as her, yet so alive. 3. She had an odd sense of fashion that complimented her too perfectly. Her leopard print coat and older dress told you this one. 4. She holds more emotion in her brown eyes than in anyone else as a whole that you've ever seen. The fact that even with the immense amount of depth in them, you could still see a twinkle in the depth of them, shocked you. 5. She was and still is the most beautiful person you've ever seen and she's trouble.

"Okay, sure. Thanks," you exhaled. And thus you two were forever in each other's debts. For you both were never alone after that day.

***<>***<>***<>***

"Hey sweets," you called out into room 64, "I brought you something!" You always felt bad for leaving her so you ended up getting her things that reminded you of her. This time it was a new guitar. Sure it was a little expensive but you didn't mind, you practically lived at the Cortez now and for almost free.

You, of course, know that Sally is a ghost and that she can never roam farther than a few steps out of the Cortez. It breaks your heart that you can't take her with you to explore the world you couldn't before but you just have to. Your ex never let you, so having a job and getting to actually do things was something you thought you would never be able to again. Yet here you are.

One problem, Sally doesn't like it either. It doesn't matter how many gifts you give, she just wants you. Her approaches aren't nearly as rough as your ex when she wants you to stay and she would never be too harsh with you. Or so you believe.

Sally had been plotting this night forever, she was gonna ask you to die tonight and stay with her forever. She needed you here. She needed you to stop leaving her.

Of course you were her precious angel and she understood that you loved exploring, but she could never shake the sense that you were too eager and would get yourself hurt or worse, killed. Then she would be alone forever again. She couldn't be alone and she had to make sure you stayed with her. So even if you didn't know better and wanted to still go out despite the danger, she had precautions in place to keep you safe.

So, this night had to be special and romantic. She had made your favorite meal, despite not being a master chef. She had set up a romantic scene in your room and it. Was. Perfect.

How could you say no after this?

"Hi babydoll. I made you dinner, your favorite Y/N," she appeared next to you. You made a slight jump, but collected yourself when you saw it.

"It's gorgeous," you gasped. Your eyes marveled at the candlelight, neat placement of the silverware, and your absolute fav dish on the table.

"The best for my babydoll," Sally smirked, kissing you on the cheek. You twiddle with your thumbs again.

"I'm sorry," you suddenly spoke, eyes downcast. Fear shot through your spine and your thoughts raced. Did I forget something important?!

"Hey, Y/N, look at me. I know that look what's wrong?" Sally's tone was soft and she added some comforting rubbing on your back to ease you.

"I- Did I forget something? I know your birthday's not today or our anniversary or-did we make plans? I can't remember. I'm so sorry, I promise I can do better," You said meekly and decidedly.

"Oh," Sally's heart broke. She hated when you got like this. So stiff and afraid if herself and all because of her. "Babydoll, I just wanted to do something special for you. Dont worry everything's gonna be just fine."

"Well..." you paused, relief had worked itself through you, "Thank you so much, this is so lovely. I love you so much Sally. I um, got you this," you handed her the new guitar.

It was light weighted and had a darker wood, practically perfect to Sally. At least... that was until she gazed upon the not so delicate etching in the side. Sally & Y/n 4ever. A message not long forgotten to her. You meant it too.

You made a deal that when you were ready, you would kill yourself to be with her at the Cortez. Till death do we not part, you had joked. It would be a day when you would at least be no younger than 30, you were 24 now.

So today was not that day. Or rather tonight.

But it didn't make the phrase any less emotional for Sally. Despite the agreement. So with shaky hands she reached out for the instrument.

"I love it baby," she whispered from her messily painted lips. Her fingers brushed across each copper string. They plucked one by one at it, each ringing out with the vibration. It was out of tune but surely nothing she couldn't fix. You must have gotten it at a pawn shop. Usually ones elsewhere come pretuned.

Relief flooded over you as you saw the smirk snake upon the ghost's lips. She did like it, good.

"Well as much as I would like to play this baby. I think you might be a little hungry, it is 10. Can't have my meal without her having hers first Y/n." Sally smirked at the way your cheeks went aflame.

"Okay," you whispered, looking at the table and sitting down. The ghost followed suit.

With a click, warmth was made from Sally's cig lighter.

Candlelight brightened the both of yours faces, adding a yellowish tint. This tint was especially viable upon Sally's pale face and the shadows stood in stark contrast, formed from her chiseled cheekbones.

They could cut you.

Knowing that Sally is impatient at times and was highly receptive to others actions and expressions, told you that briskly, you should tuck in. Boy did you tuck in.

The first bite was pure bliss. Enough so that a moan was let out and you craved more from the first touch to a tastebud.

Sally watched as pleased as can be. You liked her food, it was praise that came from your reaction and because of that she's happy.

The second bite happened after of course and this one tasted oddly different. Not bad, but as if it was bitter.

Then Sally ate, she chewed with a hum. Of course eating wasn't necessary, but anybody except some anorexics can appreciate the taste.

She then sputtered a giggle, "Too much parsley, oops." It explained it, it's why it was so bitter.

Then silence as food was enjoyed. The atmosphere was tense with a question wafting through.

Fortunately, Sally exudes so much emotion in that slim frame of hers that you didn't have to wait long to be asked it.

"Will you stay with me?" She asks. Oh dear. Again? Is this why she made me this?

"Of course, I would never leave you for someone else." It's stated firmly but calmly. She needed nothing else.

"No, I mean stay with me, forever... as a ghost babydoll. Tonight?" She clarifies with hesitation. Breathing gets harder a bit, not too terribly but enough to feel as if something's stuck in you esophagus.

"I, but I thought you wanted me to experience stuff?" You croaked. You wanted to cry, because you thought there was more time.

"You have, but I think that now you know life without that much pain, you can stay here. It's not a safe world out there, just like it was with them. I wanted to have you see that. You just haven't," she explains. You think.

If this is what she really wants...

"And besides we can live together. It's not like there isn't anything here. I always moan and groan about it but I could be stuck somewhere worse and with you here it would be p-"

"O-okay," you decide. You sound like a mouse and the tears have only been growing.

Sally stops, not expecting that. She thought you would have said no. She made a grave mistake.

"Really?" She asks dumfoundedly.

You nod slow and with a slight twitch as a sob wrecks you silently. "Yes, but only the way I want. I want to be killed by myself. It's my decision. It's my death. I don't want anybody taking it away, not even you Sally."

Sally really messed up now.

"Oh god." You mistake her statement as happiness that she doesn't know how to deal with. So you take it as agreement to your terms.

Thus you move upward out of your seat to hug her and that niggle in your throat itches, getting worse. The headache brewing ever since eating is tenfold what it was. Bile is a sickly fiend approaching up way your throat.

Pain seeps through your innards to your mind. Pain wracked your bones and breaks your heart. Pain.

The table you gripped was no longer there, causing clenching on nothing but wind while you tumbled down onto the floor, your foot snagging on the chair leg as well.

"Oh Babydoll no," Sally wails, making sure you can't see her, but can feel her presence and hear her voice. She's ashamed and you realized she did this.

That wasn't parsley that tasted bitter.

She's smarter than she looks but blind as well. You would die for her at this hotel and she couldn't see it.

So she had to make sure you would regardless.

You layed there with sorrow and betrayal. She took the one thing you never got, freedom of choice. It was never about protecting you that you held onto. It was that she would honor you. What they didn't do.

She broke fine china, already so fragile and yet handled with improper care still despite it's value.

The etching on the guitar served to mock.

Sally & Y/n 4ever

#sarah paulson x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader