#i feel like i should specify to read this backwards

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night Mor was Hurt

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, mentions of blood/injuries/assault.

summary: Azriel finds an injured Mor that brings forth many realizations. Realizations that he has been avoiding for a time now.

A/N: We are two more imagines away from the end! I'm so excited to get started on Azriel & Valeria's love story! <3 for those that may be new here, this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here.

**

The training grounds echoed with the sound of grunts and the shuffling feet as Cassian and Azriel circled each other. Their movements were not as precise or graceful as usual, marred by their roaring hangover. Yet Cassian had insisted they still train.

“You’re getting sloppy, Az.” Cassian said, easily dodging Azriel’s punch. He had left little opportunity or time to protest on training when he forced Azriel awake. The image of Azriel holding Valeria, someone he saw as his own little sister, in such an intimate way brought a sense of unease. It was a feeling fueled by the protectiveness he harbored for her.  “Anything on your mind recently?”

“You mean besides this raging hangover?” Azriel spat back, squinting as the sun’s rays blazed over them.

“Perhaps, I should specify. Anyone on your mind recently?”

Their hands moved, parrying and throwing punches. The hits were calculated, the strength held back. Cassian chose to cut to the chase, finally voicing his suspicions and concerns over something that had been gnawing at him for a while now.

“What’s going on with you and Valeria?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Cassian snapped. He found an opening and landed a punch to Azriel’s shoulders, no longer holding his strength back and sending Azriel faltering backwards. “You two were cuddling.”

“You were cuddling me.”

“Oh and I’m sure it was me spooning you that gave you a raging hard on.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Azriel finally said with a defensive glare.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t understand because Rhysand is like a brother to us and she is his little sister. Our little s–”

“She may be like a sister to you.” Azriel cut in sharply. The icy rage he carried with him, one only Rhysand had witnessed before, dared to surface. “But not to me.”

Cassian glared right back at him. “She’s off limits.”

“Why? Is it because I’m a bastard?”

Cassian flinched. The weight of the word was heavy, one that burdened his own shoulders too often. It hurt him to think that Azriel would think so lowly of him, to call him out cruelly over something he had no control over, especially when Cassian was in the same position.

Azriel’s gaze hardened at the silence that fell, daring him to say what lingered unspoken in the air. He needed to hear it, to shatter the illusion he had desperately and delicately crafted for himself.

“You know I would never use that word against you like that but it’s an unfortunate title we must carry.” Cassian’s gaze had softened. “She is not only Rhysand’s sister but the daughter of a High Lord. She’s already suffered through so much and I don’t see this ending well for you, for her. So whatever it is that you two have, it needs to stop. Now.”

“I don’t think I can.” Azriel’s voice was pained, his face held an expression Cassian could not read.

“Don’t tell me you two have already…”

Azriel’s silence was an answer. 

Cassian dropped his fists, using one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose instead as he felt bile rise in his throat. He had been angry at first. Despite not sharing the same blood, he loved Valeria like his own sister. And Azriel, he was his best friend, the closest thing to a brother he could ever have. He was torn. He wanted to be happy for Azriel. If it were anyone else, Cassian would’ve cheered him, would’ve annoyed him for more details.

Azriel could have anyone–anyone but her.

 “This is more than physical attraction,” Azriel was desperately protesting because if anyone would listen and be willing to understand, it was Cassian.  “When she hurts, I hurt. When she’s happy, I’m happy. I need to be with her all the time. I-I can’t control it.”

Cassian would never say it outloud but he hated the thought that surfaced onto his mind. His mother, born of low status, faced rejection after she became pregnant while his father had received no backlash. The same cruel fate had befallen upon Azriel’s mother. Why would Azriel and Valeria be any different? If anything, since their roles were reversed, it’d be worse and he could not let any harm come to Valeria or Azriel.

 If the High Lord found out that his one and only daughter was no longer a virgin, no longer a pure bride…Cassian shuddered at the thought.

“Learn to control it.” Cassian’s cut through the air, his cold voice returning. “Before things get worse, before you fall in love.”

Azriel found himself stumbling back until the back of his knees hit the bench. He sank onto it as Cassian walked away. It’s already too late, he wanted to say. Everything he felt for Valeria had already turned into love. But he could not find his voice.

Cassian turned to leave, but before he moved on, he paused. “Count your stars lucky that it is me who caught you this morning and not Rhysand.”

**

Weeks later…

Valeria sighed deeply.

“Stop moving.” Her mother chided with a tsk.

“Is this really necessary, mother?” Valeria asked, her voice almost a whine as her mother continued to fuss with the fabric.

“Absolutely, my little star.” Lady Yvaine replied, eyes twinkling with excitement and admiration over her work. “Every stitch is a wish, every fold a dream. This dress has to be perfect.”

Valeria turned her head over her shoulder to glance at her reflection in the mirror. She was draped in a smooth white satin, a rough silhouette of a wedding dress. Her mother’s keen eyes were delicately placing a layer of glittery tulle, a celestial veil to adorn the gown with a twinkling brilliance, much like starlight on a clear night sky, over the satin fabric.

“I’m not even getting married,” Valeria grumbled as she turned back around.

Her mother, who was knelt before her, pinning the tulle fabric down looked up at her. “You never know when a charming suitor may come by. I want my daughter to be ready.”

Valeria knew there was no winning with her mother so she bit her lip to keep herself from retorting. She couldn’t ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach at the mere thought of marriage. In a world where females rarely had a say in their unions, the looming specter of her father’s choice stirred unease within her. A selfish and innocent desire whispered in her heart, wanting to marry for love, a prospect already coming into mind…

The intricate ink wrapped around her ring finger pricked her skin, reminding her of Rhysand’s promise to her. That she would marry someone who could make her happy, make her laugh. Someone who loved her as much as she loved them. Someone who smelled good. It was a foolish promise for him to make but they were kids when the bargain had been struck. She wondered if it was a promise he would be able to keep or if they would discover the consequences of when a Night Court bargain is broken. 

“I already made your husband’s suit so that it may match perfectly with your dress.”

Lady Yvaine’s voice pulled Valeria out of her thoughts. Valeria’s eyebrows knitted together, a ghost of a smile on her face at her mother’s enthusiasm. “How is that even possible? We don’t even know who it will be, their measurements, if they’ll even want to wear it.”

Her mother placed her hands on Valeria’s hips, using her body to help her rise. She smiled lovingly at her daughter, caressing her cheek. “I just know,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

The blood drained from Valeria’s face. “Is there something I should know? Has father–”

Lady Yvaine’s laughter interrupted Valeria. “Don’t fret, my dear. Nothing has been said so far.”

Valeria shifted as she fell deep into thought. Memories of the fear and worry she had felt when she learned of Mor’s arranged marriage flooded back and then her mind drifted to a conversation she had with her mother years ago. She knew her mother’s marriage to her father was not based on love. It was based on their mating bond, their fates intertwined and destined together by the Mother. And there was one question she hadn’t dared to ask back then…

Lady Yvaine frowned, mirroring Valeria’s expression. She could sense her daughter’s unease. “What troubles you, my dear?”

“How did you know he was your mate?” Her voice was merely a whisper.

“The bond snapped for us at the same time. It’s an indescribable feeling but when our eyes found each other, I felt like the world stood still. I couldn’t look away and in that moment, all I knew was that I needed him. I knew he felt it too when he killed my uncle, who had been seconds away from clipping my wings.”

“But you don’t love him.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Lady Yvaine gently cradled Valeria’s cheeks in her hands, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. “But I love what he gave me.”

“A mating bond is rare in itself, even more so for love to be involved as well.”

Valeria wanted to ask more but a knock on her mother’s door had them both turning their heads. “Come in,” her mother’s voice beckoned and the door opened, revealing Rhysand.

He smiled as he entered, his eyes widening when he took in the sight of Valeria. The ink entangled around his left wrist pricked at his skin. “Is there something I should know?”

“Just mother being eager to send me off in her finest.” Valeria replied, turning to her mother with a pleading look in her eyes. Her mother rolled her eyes but gave her a light tap on her shoulder. “She already made your future wife's wedding dress. A whole wardrobe, in fact.”

Valeria made her way to the privacy screen in her mother’s room, keen to take off her future wedding dress.

“That’s insane.” She heard Rhysand chuckle as she changed back into her usual attire, a soft linen blouse and trousers to allow her to move freely, something that would be very much needed when she snuck off for her Valkyrie training later. “How do you even know if it’ll fit them?”

“She just knows.”

“I just know.”

Valeria and her mother said in unison as Valeria stepped out from the privacy screen. Her fingers worked her hair into a fishtail braid. 

Lady Yvaine grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “Mother always knows best.”

“What are you doing here? Weren’t you visiting Mor?”

“I was but I couldn’t find her.” Rhysand replied as he helped their mother put away her needle and threads. “So then I thought why not go enjoy a nice lunch in Velaris with my beautiful mother and annoying little sister?”

Valeria gave him a vulgar gesture when their mother wasn’t looking. He stuck his tongue out at her in response. Their faces were stoic when their mother’s gaze flickered between the two.

But then Rhysand’s expression changed, contorting into one of pure bewilderment. His nostrils flared and body tensed. His mouth set into a hard line and then he was scowling. His eyes were distant but burning with rage.

“What is it?”

And when she heard it, she immediately recognized the voice that was frantically calling out her name, calling out her brother’s name. It was Azriel’s. Her eyes widened and then the three of them were running.

They found Azriel in the foyer of the Moonstone palace and Valeria felt her heart drop at the sight of the injured female in his arms. It was Mor.

 Her blonde hair was disheveled and tangled with autumn leaves and branches. Her face was marred with dirt and scratches. Her skin was bare and exposed, revealing bruises and gashes but her stomach was the most terrifying sight. There were nails embedded to her skin, blood trickling down, as they held up a note.

Valeria didn’t bother to read the note as she rushed up to Azriel. Tears stung her eyes as she reached out toward Mor’s neck, a sliver of relief flooding through her at the pulse. She was alive.

“We need to get her to the infirmary.” Lady Yvaine stated. “I’ll call for Madja.”

Valeria’s touch lingered on Mor, her other hand reaching out for Azriel. She winnowed them into the palace’s infirmary, knowing Rhysand would follow. Azriel placed her gently on a bed and Valeria was quick to cover her with a sheet. She wanted to take the note nailed onto her stomach off but she could smell the faebane and she feared making the injury worse if she did so.

She glanced between Azriel and Rhysand, sensing that they were still communicating in their minds. “What happened?”

“Get Cassian.” Rhysand was ordering Azriel.

“Are you sure–”

“Get. Cassian.” Rhysand seethed, his fists clenching at his sides until his knuckles turned white. “I want him to see.”

Azriel turned to Mor, not wanting to leave his friend’s side while injured. She had been unconscious when he found her. He had been patrolling around Autumn Court’s borders per his High Lord’s request when his shadows alerted him of an injured female in the forest. He then shifted his gaze to Valeria and she gave him a reassuring nod, an unspoken promise that she would take care of Mor.

Azriel disappeared into his shadows and Valeria looked at her hurt friend, her own heart aching. “Mor,” she called out softly, her fingers gently wiping at the caked tears on her friend’s face, but the blonde did not stir, not even when Valeria’s own tears accidentally fell onto her face.

“Rhys, you have to tell me what happened, who did this.”

 “Eris broke off the engagement and her family punished her. Her brothers did this to her and then they dumped her in Autumn.”

“Why would Eris break off the engagement?”

Valeria lifted her head, watching as Rhysand’s gaze darkened. The anger was not directed at her but at someone behind her. “Cassian.” He snarled. “Look at what you did.”

Valeria turned around. Azriel and Cassian stood behind her, a couple of feet away from her and Mor. Azriel’s face was stoic and unreadable but there was an icy rage within his hazel eyes. Cassian was frozen in pure horror as his eyes landed on the unconscious and bleeding female. He barely had enough time to react before Rhysand was lunging forward.

Rhysand pinned Cassian to the floor, shadows and darkness madly swirling around him. He gripped Cassian’s leathers to bring him up and then slammed him back down to the floor. 

Rhysand’s hands wrapped themselves around Cassian’s throat. “You knew the consequences but you couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?”

“Rhys.” Azriel reached out to pull Rhysand off of Cassian but was met with the wrath of Rhysand’s darkness.

“It wasn’t like that.” Cassian croaked out, his eyes pleading with him to hear him out. “Please–”

“Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Valeria caught the sight of Mor stirring in bed, her face contorting in pain. 

“Enough!” Valeria exclaimed sharply, silver tendrils of moonlight escaping from her fingertips. They darted toward Rhysand, shattering his cloud of darkness and forcing him apart from Cassian.

Rhysand slammed into the floor, the silver tendrils wrapping around his wrists and anchoring him to the ground. Cassian was gasping for air and Azriel rushed to his hide, helping him to his feet. Rhysand’s gaze widened in disbelief as it landed on his sister. He knew she had powers but he had never seen them so violently on display and never had anyone been able to overcome his own.

Valeria was glowing, her powers trickling from her hands and threatening to lash out again. “I don’t care what happened but there will be no more injuries. Enough harm has been done.”

The door to the infirmary opened, her mother and Madja rushing in.

Valeria’s eyes were cold and demanding as they burned into her brother’s. His lips curled into a deep frown. She had never looked at him that way before. 

“Val–”

“Leave.”

**

Days had passed and Valeria spent them at Mor’s side. She seldom left, only to shower, change or eat, but even then, she always made sure there was someone with Mor. Sometimes, it would be her mother, Rhysand or Azriel. She was reluctant to let Cassian watch over her, worried over what could transpire if Rhysand and Cassian bumped into each other, but she made sure to keep her friend up to date with Mor’s status.

It was on the eighth day that Mor finally woke. Her body was slowly healing. She had confessed everything to Valeria, on how Valeria’s words the night they went to Rita’s inspired her. She knew the consequences of her actions but she would much rather face those than live a life where she was forced to remain by Eris’s side. It wasn’t just Cassian she had spent the night with but Tanwyn as well and she had made Valeria promise that she would leave that detail out if anyone asked.

As Valeria held her crying cousin close, she couldn’t help the tears that fell from her own eyes. “I need to talk to him.” Mor whispered. “Cassian needs to know that I don’t blame him for this.”

Valeria nodded. “I’ll go get him for you.”

**

Valeria had given Cassian and Mor privacy. She froze when she felt her brother’s presence. “Rhys.”

The two hadn’t spoken much over the past couple of days. Valeria knew that Rhysand’s actions had been spurred by his protectiveness over Mor but she did not concur with the way he had attacked Cassian. Rhysand had apologized to her and to Mor but he knew it was Cassian who needed to hear it. Guilt flickered in his violet eyes.

“I need to talk to him.” 

“After.”

She felt the cool caress of his shadows before she saw him. They slivered up her arms, coaxing her head to turn toward their master. She hadn’t spoken to Azriel much either. She was relieved that he was here, her body yearning to be close to him but she couldn’t bring herself to move. The way Rhysand had reacted to Cassian and Mor struck a sense of fear in her and Azriel, always attune to her, could feel it too.

When Cassian slipped out from the infirmary, she felt herself tense up. There was a reassuring tug, tempting her gaze to Azriel again just as his shadows had done. He would be present and willing to intervene if things got heated again. It was only after she felt another tug that she allowed herself to return to Mor, sending a wary glance to each of them.

**

Rhysand’s head hung low as they all sat in one of the living spaces of the palace. Azriel and Cassian had refused to sit in case they had to spring into action. Cassian leant against one of the pillars while Azriel stood in between them both. His shadows were curled against his ear, keeping him alert on every movement and breath. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” Rhysand said. He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes brimming with tears. “Mor is like a sister to me and seeing her hurt–” he grimaced as the image resurfaced “--I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I was just so angry but you didn't deserve that. She explained everything to me. I just wish you would’ve come to me first. We could’ve planned something, I–I could’ve protected her.”

Cassian mirrored Rhysand’s sullen expression. This was the first time they had fought over a serious matter and gone days without speaking. “I’m sorry too.” 

The two exchanged a teary look and before they knew it, they were hugging and forcing Azriel to join.

When they pulled away, Rhysand dragged a hand down his face, his features betraying his exhaustion from the previous days. He looked at his two closest friends, his brothers. “We can’t keep secrets like this from each other.” He sighed. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Azriel’s shadows stopped their whispering and froze as their master’s wings twitched. This was his chance to tell Rhysand–to come out clean. Perhaps, Rhysand would be understanding, he would find a way to help him and Valeria. But it was Cassian’s gaze he met first and he moved his head in a subtle manner. Don’t. 

“Alright then,” Rhysand broke the silence. He tapped Cassian and Azriel on the shoulder in a farewell gesture. “I need to go speak to my father over Mor’s new living arrangements. She’ll be staying with Valeria and my mother from now on.”

**

Shadows danced around them, enveloping them in a cloud of darkness and keeping their exchanged words a secret.

“I fucked up.” Cassian said with a frown, his wings sagging to the floor. While Mor and Rhysand had forgiven him, he couldn't forgive himself. He knew that Mor would face great punishment for losing her virginity to him but he would've never imagined it'd result in something as terrible and cruel as this. “Didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Azriel answered dryly. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“It’s different.” Cassian was quick to reply.

Azriel glared, remembering their conversation from weeks ago, when Cassian had warned him to stay away from Valeria, reminding them of the consequences that laid ahead of them if they continued to be together. And then Cassian had gone and done something similar with Mor and it was only Mor who had to face the brutal consequence of their actions alone. This is exactly what Cassian had warned him about so how was it any different?

“It’s not.”

“I don’t love Mor and it was a one time thing only. You, on the other hand…” Cassian’s voice trailed off. 

Azriel braced himself for Cassian’s expected harshness, anticipating an insult. He was not prepared for the sting of the words that followed:

“Let this be a reminder to us, as cruel as it is, that in this world, you and I are no different than the females in Prythian in some aspect. We are not free to want things. We are not free to love who we want. We are not deemed worthy."

As Cassian took a step back, Azriel’s shadows fell. They returned to their master, sensing his hurt and snaked around his limbs. They wrapped him in their loving embrace, offering the comfort they had provided for many years. 

Not deemed worthy. The words had sliced through him like a blade, shattering the fragile illusion he had painstakingly built around himself. It was an illusion he clung to desperately, hoping that Valeria could one day be his–that he would one day be worthy of her smile, her heart.

Falling in love with her had been effortless, inevitable almost. But he was no lord, bore no high status. He was a bastard and the realization of his unworthiness cut deep– a painful acknowledgement that she, the High Lord’s daughter, was beyond reach. His reach. 

He would forever be hers but she would never be his–could never be his. A love forbidden, an unattainable dream.

**

tag list:  @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

A/N: this part was hard to write for me because Cassian did the one thing he warned Azriel about so I tried my best to convey both of their feelings. What happened between Mor and Cass was consensual and Mor was aware of what could happen still no excuse for what her family did to her, broke my heart when I read that part in the book while Azriel and Valeria are in their own little bubble, choosing to ignore the consequences. So while they essentially did the same thing, their intentions were different.

There is a small glimpse into how Rhysand will react once he finds out about Az and Val. I also wanted to include/mention her powers. I'll dive deeper into them in her storyline but she has powers related to the moon, which is why I'm always comparing them lol. Hope y'all still enjoyed this part!

#acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand's sister #mor acotar #mor acotar imagine #azriel imagines #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel angst #acotar #acosm

[popawritter12]

I will be shameless to ask for a Yandere Talon x reader, but is it okay if it's themed as Primal Ambush? I haven't read any skinline fictions regarding that skin, so I'll love to read one especially if it's coming from you!

Please take your time in creating the fiction~🩵 Take care always, thank you!

Author's Notes: Because you didn't specify the gender of the reader, I'll make it female for a reason you'll see now.

ALSO, thank you for the request, i always wanted to make a one-shot for this skin! I hope you liked the result ;)

Yandere! Primal Ambush! Talon x reader

Yandere character: Talon Du Couteau

From the videogame/serie/movie/manga/anime: League of Legends (Primal Ambush lines of skins)

Case: Murder, implied death of a relative of the reader, blood, aggression, a certain comfort for the reader.

Part: 1 of 1

Finished: Yes

You still have that bitter memory of the forest when you first traveled alone; the smell of dry plants, the noise of nearby animals walking everywhere, the sunlight peeking through the leaves of the trees, a feeling that reminded you of the first times you traveled with your parents, before they left. your life. From the lake where the smallest children fought out of mere instinct and pure fun, to the areas less surrounded by trees, where mothers and fathers came together for the coexistence of their neighbors, seeking to keep their others alive. The noise generated by the leaves colliding with the wind was something that resonated in your mind, something that ended up detaching you from the world, and mainly, from the image in front of you.

The blood gurgling from the barely alive body near that man, near that monster. The corpse abandoned by the soul that required a decent place to rest, at the same time that the bugs were interested in the intense smell of fresh blood escaping from the largest wound, which had crossed the chest of the dead woman, showing an almost perforation. perfect of his lung.

Next to her, a man with blonde ears accompanied by a mischievous smile across a face full of marks and wounds from the recent battle; scars, both superficial and those that manage to show drops of blood in the middle of his face and skin, and soft and constant gasps escaped the man's lips, satisfied, his blonde tail adorned with brown locks everywhere moved constantly, showing the obvious satiated feeling of bloodlust. The crown in his hands was finally object for him to move between his fingers, and it wasn't until he simply widened it to his waist that he simply looked at you again, his yellowish eyes, which reminded you of the predator he embodied, followed your path. body, and especially, your eyes. You still sob as he stays close to you, taking quick steps but that you could barely hear.

Dragging your hands backwards, trying to push yourself to drag your body backwards. But he managed to position himself right in front of you, taking your shoulders with his hands.

It was surprising to you that his claws didn't hurt you. He seemed to take you gently, and a proud smile appeared on his face, as if he were bragging that he had done it, that he had finally gotten rid of the only woman that separated the two of them from each other.

—How cute… —He whispered, his rough voice sounding extremely playful against you, bringing your face closer to his.

—No! Get out of me!.

Your foreheads collided, he closed his eyes for a moment, and when you tried to move away from him, his grip on your shoulders tightened. But it wasn't what you expected; Normally, a person would grab in the sense of “I won't let you escape,” but he just grabbed you like he was playing with a small animal, with someone so small that it was terrifying, and it sounded like “I'd have fun if you tried to escape.”

—Why don't you understand that you can't escape? —He questioned you, noticing how you continued to struggle with him.

—I don't want you around, I don't want to be close to a monster like you. —You attacked, trying to get away, your shoulders trying to break free of his grip.

He stayed silent, but he just trailed his hands to your forearms, giving gentle caresses with his palms and the top of his fingers.

—Your sister also murdered people. —He mentions out of nowhere, his eyes half opening.

—But it didn't give you the right to kill her. —You responded, before trying to continue struggling, avoiding eye contact with him.

—Right or not, it is no longer important. —He mentions, removing his focus on death, to place his face on your cheek, his breath hitting your skin.

—No! Get away! —You complain, moving your face away from his, but he wasn't going to let you escape that easy.

—You look so pretty, so soft, so… —He begins, at the same time that you can hear him gently smell the fragrance of your loose hair —…, so different from her.

—Don't think that this will stay like this —A growl escapes you, your tail moving across the ground, from side to side slowly but steadily —, you will pay for this.

—Of course it won't be like that —he replied, moving his face away from the free space on your neck —, I made sure everything is going to be better.

A slight approach and a grip on each of your forearms emphasizes the weakness you have beneath him.

—You don't remember me, and maybe you never will, but you are the reason I do this.

He rubbed his face against the back of your neck, now pressing his cheek against your neck, with the free skin you can feel the marks on his face, and without expecting it, you hear him purr, rubbing his face against your neck.

—Get out! —You scream, anger escaping your lungs—, I don't want you near me!

Even though you tried to squirm, Talon always found a way to make you understand your lack of power, and in this case, a simple lock in the center of your elbows reminded you of his control over your body.

One movement, and your arms will no longer be useful.

—I'm glad you're understanding —He purrs again, bumping his face against your bare shoulder —, I'm so glad.

You can see how his whitish tail moves at a certain height, showing how pleased he was, and the calm that was in his body and mind.

—Why are you doing this? —You ask, looking Talon in the eyes directly.

He doesn't separate his face from your body, but his tail remains still, as if waiting to know how to answer you, and he took a while to do so.

—So many years have passed…. And you don't remember—He separated his face from your neck—, (Name), have you ever met a child, only 7 or 9 years old, who you give him some food?

You blinked several times, before gasping in surprise.

You still remember his torn clothes, stains on his whitish skin and on his clothes, a gaze fixed on you while in his hand his barely sharpened claws threatened to severely damage you.

In your hands was that piece of food, that whole bread that looked so desirable to the eye.

And you were only 7.

“Oh, are you hungry?” you asked at the time.

He seemed to understand that you were speaking to him, since your language was barely understandable due to your lack of speech training.

But his shoulders tensed more as you approached him, soft and gentle steps of yours approaching him, before taking both edges of the bread, breaking the food in half.

With your hand, you extended the slightly larger piece, offering the little one a meal for his hungry gaze.

He attacked quickly, aggressively taking the piece of bread. In the process, one of his nails ran across your wrist, damaging part of your skin, exposing your flesh and leaving blood stains emerging from the open marks. A gentle but extremely painful burning spread across your wrist, and you quickly dropped the other piece of bread, moving away from it.

“I just wanted to give you food! Evil!" You sobbed, before running away from the place.

You returned home, and your sister, at 10 years old, only scolded you, bandaging your wound and warning you not to be nice to others again.

“Don't ever touch or even get close to that kid again, okay?” She scolds you, on one of her hands your wounded wrist, small blood stains on her hands.

You tried to answer “yes,” but between sobs, she didn't understand what you were saying, so she told you that it was okay if you just nodded.

You never saw the boy again, or at least not in sight, when a handful of days later, you had the misfortune of finding a piece of bread on your bed.

There was no note, nor any sign that he had been there, just the piece of bread, with the smell of earth that emanated from that boy.

For several days you smelled how his scent lingered in the air of your room, but you never did anything about it, you never knew why, but in your little girl mind, you just dedicated a long letter to him about how you felt about his treatment and that you were going to feed him if he apologized to you.

Sivir refused to let you give her the letter, and secured your window and door with several bolts, hoping that would stop the bold boy. She even stood guard for several nights in your room.

But her smell remained there, always in the air, and that frustrated her.

As for the note, you had hidden it in your room, and it wasn't until you saw it again that you thought he had read it, and that he had accepted the deal.

You waited up many nights, trying to catch him red-handed, and make him apologize to you, but Talon always were outsmarted you.

You always woke up covered in sheets —even if you are not covered the last nights— and once you found a whole loaf next to your bed. And you assumed it was his way of asking for forgiveness.

For the next two years, you left him food hidden in your room, which he always found, but Sivir was never able to find.

Although, one day, you heard a commotion in the living room. As you peeked your head out, you noticed a large scar on Sivir's face, a scar that covered part of her face, one too large to be hidden.

At only 12 years old, Sivir approached you, a lock of blonde hair stained with blood in her hand, forcing you to take it in your hands.

“Don't welcome that savage back into our home again.” she threatened, grabbing the collar of the sleeping shirt you were wearing.

From that day on, your room didn't smell like dust anymore.

—I'm glad you remembered me, (Name) —A smile appeared on his face, before his tail moved again, now with more energy.

—No… you were that child… —You gasped, small tears forming in your eyes.

—It's okay… it's okay.…—He whispered, now wrapping his arms around your upper back. —.., I'm here, and I'm not going to let you go.

“But you… you died that day,” you sobbed, your words barely understandable.

—I Die that day? —He laughs abruptly, before placing a soft kiss on your neck—. To tell the truth, Sivir was closer to dying that day.

Another kiss was placed on your neck, playfully.

—B-but…

—I didn't kill her at that time because I thought that no one could support you until you managed to take care of her on your own—He excused himself—, but now that I think about it, I should have killed her and pretended that it was someone else.

—Really… it's you —you gasped softly, one of your hands going to the back of his neck, before touching his hair. —, it's really you.

—Yes, (Name), yes… here I am, and I won't leave you… —A grip on his neck interrupted him.

An arm went around Talon's neck, pulling his head back. A stain of blood marks Talon's blonde hair, and the rapid breathing of the still alive woman can be heard.

—Shit. —He gasped harshly, trying to pry her arms away from his back.

You stopped short of trying to do something, she pierced Talon's cheek with a small blade.

—I won't let you have (Name)! —The woman screamed, coughing violently, large stains of blood escaping from her lips —, she doesn't belong to you!

She pulled the blade from his cheek, before aiming it straight at his chest, focusing the tilt of the weapon directly on Talon's chest. But one of Talon's elbows fits just right to collide with her chest, crashing into her lung already damaged by her open wound.

—Shit! —She gasped, before the weapon slipped from her hands.

The blade fell slowly, and you could have grabbed it, you could take the weapon with one hand and thus touch the edge of the blade to Talon's heart, pierce his heart and thus finally end this story.

But your slowness did not allow you to even move one of your hands, and the blade fell to the ground, right in front of you, but your hands did not move, nor did your body.

—No! (Name)…! —Sivir gasped, but another elbow, now in her face, finally manages to finish knocking the woman's body down.

Her white hair moved with the wind, before landing against the dusty ground. Her face slammed into the ground, and her mind gave up. Even if she tried to move her body, the blood and force with which she was hit did not leave her.

It was only seconds when he lunged at her, his blood-stained hands clinging to the skin around her neck, the strength of his grip causing her to gasp sharply.

—No! let her go! —You screamed, panting and jumping against him.

But he didn't even deign to move, he only tightened his grip on her, causing Sivir, almost literally, to finally abandon her sister, and leave her under the control of the monster.

Several minutes passed until he felt that cold between his hands, panting heavily, he finally let her go.

—She seriously wasn't going to give up —he growled, before finally gasping softly. —, and finally she won't bother anymore…

The tears on your face only caused you to barely move, and he just wrapped his arms around your body. With a soft kiss on your cheek, he purred again, soft and gentle.

—Now I can have you to myself, without anyone else in the way. —He smiled brightly, before licking your cheek.

His scratchy tongue sent shivers on your skin, and although it's passage over your skin was short, it generated a lot of discomfort in your body.

And it was a simple memory, a simple mark that generates chills on your skin, that reminded you of your new place in the world, and in your life. That pride that was being part of the family of someone as strong as Sivir finally had to leave your mind and soul, and you had to get it into your head, very strongly, that you were no longer that proud (Name) of her sister and that was the angel who supported and defended her sister until the end, otherwise, a simple victim of the hunter who with so much fervor marked this world in such a way that everything was going to change, and you couldn't think if it was for better or worse.

Yeah, I KNOW THAT TALON DOESN'T HAVE A TAIL OR HIS TONGUE ISN'T LOOK LIKE THE CAT ONES, BUT IS MY HEADCANON LEAVE ME ALONE 😭😭😭

#yandere #poppa thoughs #obsessive love #poppa things #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere league of legends #league of legends #lol #talon #talon du couteau #talon league of legends #talon lol #yandere talon x reader #yandere talon du couteau #yandere thoughts #primal ambush #talon primal ambush #primal ambush league of legends

[writeyouin]

Hello, I hope I'm not a bother, could I may request something w/ TFP ratchet and a male reader? 🥺 You can do whatever you feel like

Ratchet (TFP) X Reader – Time Heals All Wounds

A/N – So, I know that you specified a male reader, but I kept this gender-neutral because there was no smut in it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Bumblebee chirped and whistled at you, looking to Raf for a translation of his concerns.

Raf nodded once and then translated Bumblebee’s message, “(Y/N), Bee wants to apologise again. He feels really bad about your leg and wants to check if you’re okay.”

You glanced down at your leg which was securely wrapped in a cast to help set the broken bone. Now that you had been treated, you were past the worst of the pain and were mostly just uncomfortable. You had received the injury when Bee had gotten into a scrap with a Vehicon. He had been forced backwards and you hadn’t gotten away in time. It could have been a lot worse, but Bee had managed to slow himself just in time to stop himself from crushing you, but it was too late for you to get away unscathed. Now, a few days later, you were recovered enough to walk around the base with the aid of crutches.

“It’s fine, Bee. Really,” You assured him with a smile.

You walked a short distance on your crutches.

“See, I’m walking around now and everything. I’ll be better in no time.”

Despite your attempt to alleviate Bumblebee’s guilt, his door-wings drooped and his vocaliser chirped in a melancholy register. He walked away miserably, dragging his pedes.

“I’ll talk to him,” Raf told you before following his partner, calling after him, “Hey, Bee, wait up!”

Sighing, you started the difficult journey to the top of the stairs, planning to stay out of the way on the top floor where there was a sofa for you to rest on. After a short while, Ratchet entered the room, a look of mild annoyance crossing his face upon seeing you.

“Oh, you’re here,” He stated pointedly, having yet to spend any time alone with you.

“I am,” You replied languidly, looking up from a book you had been reading.

“Well, I’m not going to babysit you. I hope you know that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” You retorted drily, returning your attention to your reading material.

“Bah,” Ratchet grumbled, starting his work on the computer terminal.

The two of you sat in silence, and while Ratchet was initially annoyed by your presence, he soon realised that you weren’t going to bother him like Miko or Bulkhead usually did. Upon that revelation, he found no cause for complaint and settled into his research, continuing his attempts to come up with a synthetic alternative to energon.

Yet, as usual, Ratchet’s tranquillity was not to last as Jack arrived, requesting Ratchet’s assistance.

“Hey Ratchet, Arcee wants to know if you have any uh-” He looked at his hand, reading the smudged writing on the palm, “Nitrinsic-enjex? Whatever that is.”

Ratchet huffed, annoyed by the interruption, but before he had a chance to bark an answer, you piped up, “What does she want it for?”

“She’s experimenting,” Jack replied. “Trying to create a grenade that will corrode Cybertronian metal on impact, since things are getting tougher lately.”

“Tell her that nintrinsic-enjex is too unstable for that. If she wants to play with explosives, she should stick with the resources that Fowler provides.”

“She said those aren’t powerful enough for guys like Megatron.”

“Okay, fine. Then tell her that she should use a combination of gunpowder and Cybertronian hydrex in a thin titanium casing, with a 1:2 ratio in favour of the hydrex.”

“Uh…” Jack looked to Ratchet for affirmation of your response.

Ratchet in turn was staring at you, gobsmacked. He recovered himself enough to nod at Jack, “Yes… That’s right. Do as (Y/N) says.”

Jack stayed for a moment longer and you realised that he had already forgotten your instructions.

“Okay,” You sighed, “Go back to Arcee and I’ll text you what she needs. She’ll find everything she needs in storage room three, by the way. Oh, and tell her to handle the hydrex gently, it’s motion sensitive until it’s sealed in the titanium.”

Jack nodded at you gratefully and ran off, awaiting your text.

Ratchet was still staring at you, and you decided to address what you incorrectly assumed was the elephant in the room.

“I know,” You said disbelievingly. “I didn’t think Arcee cared for explosives either.”

Ratchet ignored your comment, loudly demanding to know exactly what was on his mind. “How did you know all of that?”

“Hm? Oh,” You held up the book that you had been reading for the last few hours. It was a printed copy of Ratchet’s research and a catalogue of the resources he had managed to obtain and create since coming to Earth.

“You’ve been reading my notes?” Ratchet said, askance.

“Yeah… Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m just surprised that you would-” Close to complimenting you Ratchet stopped short, instead saying, “Yes, well, it’s good to see someone using their brain for once.”

You exhaled a small laugh, smiling as you returned to your reading.

Over the following weeks, you were stuck with Ratchet, but it didn’t bother you as your affection for the cantankerous medic grew. Ratchet was also affected by your constant presence, at his workstation, growing rather fond of you. In an attempt to get even closer to you, he nominated himself your personal doctor.

Whilst working, he would take short breaks to remind you when to exercise and when to rest. He looked up what constituted a healthy human diet, and often reprimanded you when you didn’t drink enough water. When Bulkhead got too rowdy, or Bumblebee too loud, Ratchet would scathingly remind them that a patient was recovering and they would look at their pedes, mumbling glum apologies. Then, when it got late, Ratchet would either drive you home himself or offer you his hab-suite to rest in, seeing to it that you weren’t disturbed.

One day, when it was just you and Ratchet in the base, you dared to joke that you were on the list of Ratchet’s favourite patients.

“A list?” Ratchet scoffed. “(Y/N), you are the list. That’s why you get the best medical care.”

“Nagging counts as medical care?” You chuckled.

“If you don’t like my nagging, what would you suggest?” Ratchet demanded.

“I don’t know… kiss it better?” You joked, raising your leg for a second before letting it fall again.

Ratchet rolled his optics and marched back to his computer terminal, mildly annoyed by the low hum of his cooling fans. Fortunately, you were only a human and didn’t know what the sound signified.

Unoffended by the abrupt end to the conversation, you started playing around on your phone, awaiting Ratchet’s offer to take you home. Yet, the night wore on, and more tired than usual, you fell asleep on the sofa, dropping your phone on your chest as you drifted off.

After a few more hours of work, Ratchet finally turned to you, surprised to find you napping. Reluctant to move you, he decided to leave you there for the evening.

“Kiss it better,” He muttered to himself grumpily.

Then, sighing Ratchet pressed a servo to his lips and then moved it to your leg, touching it gently. Soon enough, your cast would be off and although Ratchet knew that it would only be time that healed your wound, he couldn’t help feeling that his love for you might help. He only hoped that when you were better you would still choose to stay with him instead of going back into the field with the others; he didn’t want to be alone again.

Like My Work? Buy Me A Ko-Fi @ https://ko-fi.com/writeyouin

#transformers #transformers prime #maccadam #ratchet #ratchet x reader #ratchet x you #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #time heals all wounds

[piggycyberwarrior]

Arcane!Ekko with a s/o that has panic attacks.

a/n: I wanted to say that i am aware that there are different panic attacks, but since i have some myself, i will describe them like mine are too (if not explicitly requested). but i don't think i specified a trigger in the headcanon, since everyone has different ones. enjoy!

please send me request! i love them and i appreciate comments!

Inludes: ekko 

genre: hurt/comfort?? 

Warnings: Panik attacks, hyperventilation, crying, use of curse words, no proof read.

Ekko: 

ekko would probably also panic if he saw you like this. but he would be right by your side. always! 

he would try to get you breathing properly again when you were hyperventilating. 

besides, he would try to distract you. Can you tell me what apple backwards means? what is 50 - 23? 

if you need rest after a panic attack, he won't talk unless its in a appropriate situation.If you want  to watch a movie with him or if you want him to tell you any stories, he’s happy to do i 

 he wont ask questions either!

He can imagine how distressing it can be when you're peppered with awkward questions, so he'd wait for you to tell him and if you didnt, that's perfectly fine with him. 

Either way, he would always be with you and help you

poor baby is totally shocked when you had your panic attack. He came back from a mission and the first thing he saw was a hyperventilating Y/n on the floor next to your shared bed. 

Tears streamed down your face in little streams and dripped onto the floor. You didn't bother to wipe them away. Breath in short staccato rythym. 

Too short.

Your vision went dim- fuck it, you couldn't even see. a tornado of fear and panic swirled inside you. you felt light headed and dizzy.

little hiccups jerked through your body as you tried to sway back and forth, wrapped in your own arms

"Fuck!" hissed ekko as he dropped his bag and rushed from the doorway straight to you. "Firefly? oh god." he took a deep breath. it took an extreme amount for him not to panic at the sight of you.

"Y/n, look at me, hey hey everything is fine. i'm here-fuck i'm sorry."

He knelt down next to you and pulled you to him. You could feel the exhaustion and the trace of wood and autumn leaves, a scent of oil that stuck to him while working on his inventions.

"Breathe with me ok. In and out." He showed you a few times. Took your hand and put it on his chest

"Ok do you see anything....green here?" he tried to distract you. "no." "oh come on baby." he said with a pout as he took your face in his hand and placed a kiss on your nose. "it's alright, you don't have to do this." you mumbled as you put your hand on his. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when it started." he grumbled. you leaned against his chest. "you did help me. i'm fine. thanks mister man." you couldn't help but giggle at the nickname. Ekko's mouth twisted into a small grin and a laugh escaped his throat.

"can we cuddle?" you asked after some time. "sure." ekko helped you up - your legs were still pretty wobbly and your whole body felt like ants were walking on it, but in the end you were lying in your big cuddly bed with ekko next to you, lying with your head on him. "I love you y/n" "I love me too." you said with a grin. He pinched your side. you squeaked "Hey! it was a joke ok? I love you too! Jerk!"  "you should have thought of that before."

#arcane ekko #arcane ekko x reader #leauge of legends headcanons #leauge of legends imagine #leauge of legends ekko x reader #arcane ekko hurt/comfort #ekko x reader panik attacks

[cai-tan]

Hey, Tumblr, I'm angry and frustrated and I'm making it your problem.

Break the Keep Reading only if you either A. have any experience with OBS-Websocket or other such integrations, or B. sincerely wish to partake in my suffering. Warning for excessive cursing, it gets rough.

Update on the whole KT-1632 overlay situation: After a handful of minor technical difficulties and rookie mistakes (hey cat, it would help if you actually turned on the damn websocket before trying to connect to it), I've established a base framework for connecting to OBS Websocket.

Once I had that in place, I started testing out what kind of messages I can get, and uh... I'm already running into a huge problem, here.

See, OBS Websocket 5.0 has the following messages that seem pertinent to my use case: CurrentProgramSceneChanged, SceneTransitionStarted, SceneTransitionEnded, and SceneTransitionVideoEnded. Keep in mind, the only documentation I can access right now, as far as I can tell, is just the 5.0.1 OBS-Websocket.

Here's a refresher on the use case: I want to be able to move elements of my Unity-based stream overlay depending on which scene is currently active in OBS. A wrinkle in this is that I use a custom stinger transition with a specific cut point, like this:

Now, all three events regarding the scene transition only have one piece of data to them: the name of the transition (which is basically always going to be "SniperScope"). The only event that actually tells me what scene is being switched to is the CurrentProgramSceneChanged event.

There is an immediate problem.

Funnily enough, this order of operations is actually backwards from the current documentation:

On the one hand, there could potentially be some sort of delay or other issue involved with WebsocketSharp / Unity that's responsible for this, however in my testing the exact amount of delay and order of operations is entirely consistent every single time I initiate a transition in OBS. The first message almost always arrives instantaneously; it's the other three messages that seem to come whenever they feel like it, and not at all close to what they need to be at.

On the other hand-- wait, what? What's this issue on the official obs-websocket github about--

So you're telling me that SceneTransitionStarted used to have the from and to scenes specified in the event data in version 4, and they removed it in version 5 for literally no other reason than an RPC overhaul? And they haven't added it back in OVER A YEAR?!

Now, the github actually does have an install link for obs-websocket version 4.9.1-compat that should (keyword should, you know how that goes) work with OBS 29 (more specifically, it should work with 28+, which means there isn't even a guarantee for it to work with OBS 29... fucking awesome).

However, uhhhhhh... I cannot find ANY FUCKING DOCUMENTATION FOR 4.9'S PROTOCOL WHATSO-FUCKING-EVER. There is LITERALLY ONLY 5.0 in the readmes and protocol.md docs.

This shit has me pulling my hair. I'm goin' the fuck to sleep. Anyone got any bright fuckin ideas, I'm all fuckin' ears for it in the morning.

#pain and suffering #streaming #indie vtuber #software development #obs troubleshooting #obs studio #help appreciated #websocketsharp #obs websocket

[thinger-strang]

"It scares me to feel this way"?

you didnt specify any ship so im going to go outside of my comfort zone :)

this will be set as post s4 and i will be changing what canon has laid out for us so read with caution

Nancy sits next to Steve on the couch in Eddie's trailer. Eddie is trying to find more first aid supplies while Billy raids the kitchen and Robin is trying to corral the kids and form a plan.

"So Billy huh?" Nancy smiles awkwardly.

Steve laughs a little and nods. He hadn't exactly been subtle when reuniting with Billy.

"Yeah, Billy." Steve can't keep the grin off of his face.

"When did... that happen?" Nancy asks, rubbing one of her arms.

"Oh like, a few months before graduation, it just kinda, happened. And then Starcourt was just... bad timing I think. We were working a lot and hadn't seen each other in a while and then he got possessed and I got stuck under the mall." Steve stares off towards the kitchen for a bit. "But it's okay now, we're both alive and in the same dimension now."

Nancy glances towards the kitchen briefly before staring out the window where Robin is arguing with Dustin about something.

"How'd you know? That you were...."

"Also into guys? Well it just kinda seemed obvious once I looked at it, after someone kinda laid it out for me? I dunno it's kinda hard to explain, Billy explains it better than I do." Steve rubs the back of his neck.

"Okay but, we dated and you loved me and now you love Billy? Like you just switched?"

"Well no, I didn't 'switch', I did love you and I still like girls but I also really like Billy and think boys are also really good looking. It's even across the board, I think everyone is hot." Steve shrugs.

"So you loved me and also like Billy..."

"Yeah Nance I just said–" Steve turns to face Nancy and finds her still staring out the window at Robin with a longing look.

Steve gasps. Loudly.

"You totally like Robin?" He stage whispers.

Nancy snaps her gaze to Steve and gapes her mouth like a fish for a second.

"You should ask her out! I think she'd–"

Nancy slaps her hand over Steve's mouth and glances back at the window. Robin's still waving her arms around, now arguing with Dustin and Lucas, but none the wiser to what Steve and Nancy are talking about.

"You need to be quiet."

Steve nods but is still grinning. Eddie bounds into the room, arms full of bandages and rags and bottles of whatever. Steve's grin turns into a grimace.

"Okay Wheeler, out. Me 'n Stevie Boy have a lot to do." Eddie drops his haul onto the empty side of the couch.

Nancy opens her mouth to protest but Steve cuts her off.

"It's fine, Nance, go see if Robin needs help with whatever her and the kids are doing and maybe get Billy to come in here. He's actually pretty good at the patching up thing."

Steve's tone is serious but he still manages to shoot Nancy a shit eating grin when he mentions Robin. Nancy rolls her eyes but marches towards the kitchen.

///

Steve's asleep on the couch by the time Nancy, Robin, and the kids get inside with a solid plan. Billy sits on the floor in front on Steve with Max next to him. Eddie sits on a kitchen chair he's got facing backwards. Nancy and Robin present their plan to the group.

Once all the details have been worked out and everyone disperses to find something to eat or somewhere to sleep, Nancy and Robin are left alone in front of the window.

"So what were you and Steve talking about?" Robin asks, bluntly.

"Talking? We weren't talking we were...–" Nancy flounders.

"Dude, no need to be weird about it, I saw you two chit chatting, just curious what it was about." Robin holds her hands up in surrender.

"We were talking about Billy."

Robin's eyes narrow slightly.

"Nothing bad! I was just curious when that happened, I didn't know Steve was...."

"A queer? Into men like that?" Robin starts, accusatory. "Just because he wasn't throwing himself at you like you were so clearly hoping he would doesn't give you the right to be an ass about him being bi!"

"I don't have a problem with him being–"

"Oh please Nancy! You've been flirting with him this whole time! You aren't even trying to hide it!"

"I WAS ASKING BECAUSE I'M THE SAME!" Nancy yells.

Robin closes her mouth with a click.

"Well not the same, but it's similar. I just... it never really felt right with Steve or with Jonathan. So I just pretended that it was all fine because that's what i thought everyone did. But I was asking Steve how he knew and he said he didn't really get it until someone else explained it to him. And I mean he did a piss poor job explaining what it feels like but it kinda, it opened the door enough and I just, I don't think I like guys. At all. And it scares me to feel this way because I've seen what it's like, on the news, I've heard the name calling and shit. I just never thought that could be me but now... now I think it is?"

Nancy glaces up at Robin fearfully, the realization of everything she just said hitting her.

"Oh. I didn't know. That's cool, I mean, I'm the same. A lesbian. That's, that's what you're describing. That's me. And I guess it's you too now?"

All Nancy can do is nod.

"Cool. I guess, you can ask me if you have any more questions. Steve's a complete dingus when it comes to logistics. He's good with dealing with emotional baggage."

Robin smiles warmly at Nancy.

"Hey Robin?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Um," Robin rubs the back of her neck, blushing hard. "I'd like that but aren't you still dating Jonathan?"

Nancy squeezes her eyes shut and winces. She completely forgot.

"Well, how about you have a nice long talk with Jonathan and ya know, maybe break up with him, then we can circle back to the kissing thing, alright?"

"Yeah sorry, I just–" Nancy fumbles to explain.

"Hey it's alright, it sounds like you've just spent years trying to figure out what's missing and finally figured it out. Let the emotions settle before jumping in head first, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Nancy smiles awkwardly.

"Cool, I'm going to grab whatever's left in Eddie's kitchen and then go find Steve, Billy, and Eddie. Pretty sure he hooked them up with the good weed. You can come if you want?" Robin extends her hand like a prince waiting for his princess at a ball.

Nancy smiles and takes her hand, letting Robin lead the way

#ronance #robin x nancy #fic #my writings #st4 #st4 spoilers #again this is kinda outside my comfort zone #i dont typically write robin x nancy but this prompt kinda screamed their names lol

[nickywhoisi]

oh god there was some weird altercation that just happened. I did ask for people to talk to, but I didn’t think carefully about how I wanted to be spoken to/approached. Somebody just said to me that they “took” my tag as an invitation, but...that felt too weird and awkward. I felt like that was too strong on their part, or the wording just wasn’t right or felt safe, and now I can’t feel good about the thing I wanted to happen. I feel sick, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

I’ve since removed the tag, and...I would still like to meet people, but maybe I made the mistake of having others reach out to me. It always seems to go wrong somehow. I can’t understand why this keeps happening as it does. I think I should take charge of that part when I feel truly ready to, instead. And if anyone else does want to hmu, then please be as careful and gentle as possible.Like super vigilant about how you say something to me. I’ve come from a torn background where everything has been turned backwards, so avoid saying things like “I took _ as an invitation to _” or anything that’s too strong/pushy. I’m so sorry I didn’t think to specify that until now. Something like a “Hey, I saw your tag. Is it okay to talk to you?” or “I would love to chat with you! Is this a good time?” would be much more preferable. What is the most mindful and careful to say that respects my boundaries, feelings and wishes will result in far better things. So if you do see that tag post before this, PLEASE READ THIS IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARD. Thank you. 

Oh god, I really hope I don’t come across as ungaugeable or unapproacheable now. I really genuinely do want to initiate some interaction with people as I said. I just need to make sure it’s the right kind. Always have to work so hard at doing that, and it tends to leave me hyperwired and easy to scare/discomfort, then I usually shut off the whole thing to keep myself safe. In fact it’s been like that for many years, and it only feels like just recently I’m untangling all of that. Fixing myself up and curating my experiences is really hard work!

#still working on myself #so sorry again! #do not go after the person who did the thing it's not really their fault #I just asked for something without thinking #and then I got it too soon to know how to deal #extra apologies to you...I think something just went wrong and it's not a good idea for me to reply #I hope you understand #but I do like your art and I'll reblog it still #ramble brambles #oops! all life issues #I'm a mess what's new

[smiletimeisrunningout]

also when I feel better I may bring some more verses or specify more fandoms for marvel shows because I've been catching up (I love Loki and Mobius a normal amount), and add more background stories for old/rare fandoms so I can jump in if I see anyone playing in them (I want a more specific firefly one) and also I want to make my historical Emma closed to all fandoms except a few exceptions, because apart from a few shows I know, like Turn (and I'm talking about only the main characters, I'm not exactly inspired by the less present/minor ones), the Bridgerton-universe (all tvshow characters, focusing more on the whimsical true love and cliches side of it), Downton Abbey and Mrs Maisel, I don't love writing Emma in the real past, since at some point Emma just stops being Emma if I'm bound by realistic limitations and I prefer shows where basically we go 'sure, why not' about every implausible thing (an example, if someone were to write the Black Widow as herself in the past there'd be complaints about 'but women don't know how to do that/can't win against a bunch of men even if trained', nah, you lose the character if you don't bend reality a little, and I want to write Emma, she's ALWAYS Emma), and anyway I prefer wacky or reality-bending shows set in our time OR fantasy-ish history (look at Pirates of the Caribbeans) to anything real, and sitcoms and dramas are also fine because they both stretch reality like hell

So yeah, I need to think, when my headache is gone, about what I actually want to write, in what universes, time periods, fandoms. Ever since my ptsd got worse many types of characters and many types of threads just aren't fun anymore, which is why I don't write them as a rule (see hostility, unless plotted between characters who know each other and will get through it, because if your character isn't even a little friendly and I'm forced to bend Emma over backwards to make her stay it will literally trigger my anger), but writing helps me relax and I should fix the rules, make 'wanted interactions' and then STICK TO THEM, and if people don't write with me because they don't want to read a lot then it's fine, better than me writing what I don't feel like writing (but still, I'm like 'if this person is writing a popular canon character what is their motivation to read a long-ass about page for an oc?' so I understand why they wouldn't)

#even though I know it might result in me not writing anything new ever again I am tempted to just queue lots of starter calls #and a lot 'plotting calls for new mutuals' and nothing else because timezones are making interactions impossible #that and the lack of promos because I can't find any character I like. multis don't put promos in tags anymore and people don't reblog #promos anymore so it's super hard to find new writers to begin with. I love the threads I have but I'd like to have more mutuals #because people have lives and it's easier to have things to write every day if 100 people follow you than if you have 5 active mutuals

[norwegianpornfaerie]

Dear Yuletide Writer Letter - 2023

Dear Yuletide Writer

Thanks so much for checking my letter! Most of what's here is also in my sign-up, but I've added some extra bits, including my preferences for stories in general. Have a very happy Yuletide - it's my favorite time of year!

First things first: With absolute honesty, I would much rather you write something you are comfortable with and that interests and inspires you, rather than trying to bed over backwards and struggle to make your fic conform to prompts and suggestions you’re not feeling. I’m assuming you signed up to write my fandoms and characters because you have a genuine love for and interest in them, and that’s what makes for the best stories. So let the optional details be optional, and take the below as a guideline for those who prefer it.

However, if you WOULD like more details, I would be delighted if you would consider the below:

Things I really enjoy:

Humor! The perfect story, to me, has a curated balance of comedy and drama. Humor is life, and stories that are entirely without it often seem lifeless, to me. I am not, of course, suggesting that everything should be a comedy, but that humor complements tragedy and vice versa. Make me laugh at some point in your story, and I will be very happy indeed.

First time stories! I absolutely prefer this to anything else, in relationship-focused stories. As I tend to say, I’m secretly an 18th century romantic poet. Slow burn, UST, all that good stuff. I realize you’ve got limited time and limited words here, but whatever you can give, I will happily accept.

Casefic! I love detective stories, especially the classics, so anything in that vein will make me very happy indeed.

Plot. Plooooot! Plot is delicious. I don’t mind character studies, but a good plot will make me happier than anything.

Explicit sex. I’m pretty vanilla, but I don’t mind reading kink. If you enjoy writing that sort of thing, I am a sucker for a well-written explicit sex scene, no matter the flavor!

World-building. In science fiction or fantasy canons in particular, I can never get enough of this. Let me know what people have for breakfast, how their clothes are made, where they shop, where they go on vacation and how - tell me about the three seashells! (#ObscureDemolitionManReference) In short: Details! 

Various preferences: If I’ve specified a ship and you don’t like it, please don’t feel obligated to write it. However, I would really rather you did not write those characters into other ships in the story (unless it’s canonical, or mentions of past relationships). Likewise, please don’t erase canonical love interests. AUs are OK, but I would really rather read about the canon universe.

Now, author, if you’ve read the above and think “but I only write gen” or “but I hate plotty stories” or “I couldn’t write casefic to save my life” - really, really don’t worry. You matched with me because you like one or more of the same fandoms and characters as me, and that’s more than enough. I trust you to write the best story you can, and that means writing it the way YOU want to. I’m obviously very happy if you chose to include some of my likes, but don’t feel forced to do so.

If you’ve read all the above, and you’re still not sure about something, maybe my fics on AO3 might be helpful? I generally like to read the same type of stuff I write.

Jeeves & Wooster  

Reginald Jeeves

Bertram "Bertie" Wooster

This is one of my comfort fandoms. I take such joy in the language - Wodehouse was a magician when it comes to words - and the characters and the masterful plots... but mostly in Jeeves. I have great affinity for Bertie and identify with him to a great extent, and so it's no wonder that I, too, am deeply fond of Jeeves. I see Jeeves as a deeply feeling person, who only appears cold and unflinching on the surface due to superhuman discipline. He is a man of scintillating intelligence, who also can be petty and jealous when the mood strikes. It is the character interaction and interpersonal relationship I adore the most, as well as the clever, intelligent humor.

Wants: I do ship these two, and I would absolutely adore some UST ending in, erm, resolved tension. If you don't care to write that, I'd love a story based on their mutual admiration and friendship. Ideally, I would prefer a story written in first person. Bertie, of course, narrates most of the stories in canon, but if you are more of a Jeeves, or would rather write in his voice, nothing would please me more. I believe Bertie is genuinely intelligent and clever, and I love when this is shown in writing. Particularly if Jeeves comes to realize it/comes to Bertie's defense if someone belittles him.

Do Not Wants: Jeeves or Bertie paired with other characters. Jeeves or Bertie dying. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurement.

Oxventure: Blades in the Dark  

Barnaby Fortescue III

Edvard Lumière

While I am not at all disappointed with the ending, I hate the idea of never knowing what happens next! I love both the setting and the characters, and particularly how the tone walks such a perfect line between horror, humor and realism. Can there be three sides to a line? There can now; Edvard will make it work, somehow. I've picked my two favorite characters - I enjoy Edvard for his delightful and wild innoventions, and his eclectic personality. He's an interesting mix of cynical and blindly optimistic, with just a hint of madness. That being said, Barnaby is my absolute favorite. The idea of a man who takes to a life of crime because he thinks it might be "a bit of fun", and then ends up being accidentally really good at it is absolutely brilliant. He also seems to have some unexpected character growth, particularly toward the end. I do not peresonally ship these two, but I don't mind if you do and would like to write them that way. (Genuinely. I know I'd worry if I saw that in a prompt, so let me assure you: It is more than fine to write Edvard/Barnaby slash.).

Exception to both characters being featured: As I mentioned, Barnaby is my absolute favorite. So long as he is featured, it's okay to not feature Edvard. That doesn't mean I don't want to see Edvard, just that it's okay if you'd prefer not to write about him.

Wants:  I really just want to see what happens next. That said, if you haven't finished the series yet - don't worry! I'm more than happy to read a story from earlier in the series. I'm a sucker for casefic, particularly detective fiction, so if you'd like to try your hand at that, I'd be a very happy recipient! I'd also love to read more about Barnaby in general, and perhaps something more about Edvard's past? And of course, there's worldbuilding - what is the world like, now? (Or what was it like, if you're writing from before the ending.) Oh, and references to other Oxventure stuff would be wonderful; I would love to see more than the few glimpses we got in canon.

Do Not Wants: Alternate Universes. So much of what I enjoy about this series is the setting. Explicit sex is fine, but no PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment. No permanent character deaths.

Robot Series - Isaac Asimov

R. Daneel Olivaw

Elijah Baley

Caves of Steel is probably my favorite novel of all time, but I adore all of these books. I am very fond of Daneel and Elijah. I find the world they inhabit fascinating, both the future society of Earth, and that of the Outer Worlds. As I love detective fiction, science fiction and especially robots, these stories may as well have been written specifically for me. Part of the appeal, for me, is how they manage to deliver both an entertaining mystery and heart-felt interpersonal drama in a world that feels real. Daneel is one of my favorite fictional characters; the way his empathy and personality shines through his programming and limitations. And Lije is the ultimate cynical, world-weary everyman - together, they are a pair of detectives that deserve to be up there with Holmes and Poirot.

Wants:  Casefic. Seriously, if you can write me casefic for this fandom, I will be delighted. A murder mystery would be fantastic. I do ship Daneel and Elijah, and I would love to read about the unresolved tension between them. Explicit sex would be great! World-building and exploring whichever location they are at, be itsomewhere on Earth or one of the Outer Worlds, or on a space ship or station, etc. Exploration of Daneel's character; Lije stuggling to come to terms with his feelings for him - preferably romantic feelings, but if you don't want to write that, feelings of deep friendship. Bickering and banter and held-back affection!

Do Not Wants: Daneel or Elijah paired with other characters. Canonical relationships are okay to mention or feature, so long as they are not the main focus of the story. Daneel or Elijah explicitly written to be straight. No mention of Elijah's death, please, and no mention of Daneel's ultimate fate - though a story reuniting them after Elijah's death would be more than welcome. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

#yuletide #Yuletide 2023

[maximoffslilwitchintraining]

Come, we will give you a ride, kitten.

Part 2 of: “Mommy… I mean Wanda”

Read: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Parings: wandanat x reader

A/N: oh god this took for ever to write and I don’t remember a word of it. Idk how I feel about the ending, but It was getting so long I had to end it somewhere. I hope you guys enjoy it. 🥺 Also I kept getting calls from my friend while writing, so if it’s a mess, blame her. 😉

Summary: You try to pass time til you can see the two women again, not wanting to seem to eager, but you fail miserably.

Warnings: alcohol, cussing, mommy kink, smut, fingering.

Word count: 3k

You were awoken by the barking of the neighbor's dog. You had completely forgotten how this used to be a common experience during your teen years and before. The dog was not particularly large nor scary, but the loud barks could have fooled anyone into thinking there was a blood thirsty beast in their backyard. You rubbed your eyes at the bright light and slowly sat up, having forgotten last nights even until the hangover hit you. Squeezing your eyes shut at the aching pressure behind your eyes. A smile soon finds its way to your lips as you replay the memories. Like a beautiful movie, their touch, their words and eyes all play before you, behind closed eyelids. You let out a sigh, opening your eyes. You giggle and shake your head, looking over at your alarm clock.

“Fuck! 6 am?!” You groan sleep still in your voice. “You have got to be kidding me.” You exhale, throwing yourself backwards onto the bed. The two women hadn’t specified at what time you should show up, but you sure as hell couldn’t show up at dusk on their doorstep, no matter how much you wanted to. You frowned thinking about how long you would have to wait. You were honestly being quite childish, but patience had never been your strong suit. pulling the covers over your head you try to go to sleep again, but to no use. You were wide awake and quite nauseas, better just get up, the day would only be slower laying in bed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trying to get through your morning routine as slowly as you could, dragging it out so it would take up more of your day. This did not work in the slightest, in fact you ended up doing everything at double your usual speed, standing ready in the middle of the living room by 7. You cursed yourself for being so impatient, as your dad walked into the room.

“Look who’s up!?” He says with a fake gasp, snickering as you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I had forgotten how loud that dog is.” You say, sounding more annoyed than you meant to.

“Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” He says, while moving to the table where he wrote something down on a piece of paper. You just huff, trying to sneak a peek of the list he is making.

“You want something from the store?” He questioned, before hiding the note for no reason beyond the fact that he enjoyed annoying you.

“Um, yeah. Maybe some flour. I was going to bake something for…” You trail off not wanting to tell him about your dinner plans. He seemed to be occupied by his own thoughts, to notice.

“Great, and since you’re already there you can bring this list with you.” He spoke, with a smile that was expecting some sort of reaction.

“um.. yeah!” You say.

“No, I was just joking.” He stammers thinking you missed the tone of his question entirely. “I will get it done after I am done with this” He continues.

“NO!  I’ll do it.” You were desperate for something to pass time. Grabbing the list, waving it slightly in front of him as you ask. “Is this finished?” He just nods, in confusion.

“Okay, then. Bye!” You exclaim, grabbing your coat and running out the door, before he could ask how you were going to get there in the first place. It took you about 20 minutes to walk there usually, but on the slippery ice you had to walk carefully not to slip and fall. This was good it would slow you down, as you were quite a fast walker as well.

.....................................................................

Halfway there you started getting incredibly cold. In your hast you forgot to grab mittens or a scarf. Your hands, starting to almost go numb from the cold. It had snowed during the night and everything was covered white powder. The trees looked like something out of a fairytale. You kept your eyes dreamily looking over the beautiful houses and nature. No longer paying attention you miss the car pulling up behind you.

“котенок?” A voice spoke. You turn quickly in shock. Gasping as your shoes lose grip on the ice and you fall backwards, flailing your arms. You didn’t stay down, before sitting up as a figure appeared by your side. Kneeling down next to you was Wanda.

“Are you alright, dear? I’m sorry if we startled you.” She giggled realing you were fine beyond the shock of it all.

“Wanda?” You attempted to speak, unsure what you wanted to say. Now seeing Natasha over by the car as well, you felt a little embarrassed. You shiver now even colder than before sitting in the snow. And Wanda notices pulling you up. She was surprisingly strong and you blush at her strong arms holding on to you, pressing you close to her. Too many inappropriate thoughts flooded your mind and you had to hide your face. What were you doing, this poor woman was simply helping your clumsy ass off the ground. Anyone would do that right?

“Where are you heading in this cold, sweet thing?” She lifted your head still holding on to you, despite that you were now standing steadily on your own feet.

“The store.” You whispered almost, getting annoyed at how meek you sounded, like a lost child. Wanda smiled.

“Well I hope you’re not lost.'' Wanda spoke quietly, So close you actually felt her breath on you. You blinked, unsure if you heard right, as your eyes drifted to her lips. Thankfully your thoughts got interrupted by Nat.

“Come, we will give you a ride, kitten.“ She said with a smirk. “It should warm you up.” She turned and opened the door for you. You nod as Wanda leads you to the car, not daring to open your mouth, scared of what you may say. You didn’t want to be an inconvenience to them, they probably had more important things to do. However you couldn’t deny that getting a ride by Natasha and Wanda sounded great. Oh, god, no you had to get your mind straight, they are just driving you to the store. 

You feel a little sad when Wanda lets go of you as you get into the backseat.

“You’re shaking котенок.” Wanda said, voice laced with concern, as she gets into the backseat with you, Nat closing the door behind her. You just look between the two in confusion as Wanda sits next to you, leaning closer and putting her arm around you. You let out a small sigh at her warmth and Natasha and Wanda share a small look through the mirror. You keep eyes on your hands, her face too close for you to look at without getting dangerously close to her. Trying to warm up your painfully cold hands, you rub them together.

“I’ll help you.” Wanda says, grabbing your hands between hers warming them. Your eyes widen as she starts placing small kisses on your knuckles. The soft touch of her lips heating up your body quickly. Your ears previously numb from the cold was now on fire.  She does this for a while with the most concentration, as if her sole mission was to keep you warm. When she was finally content with her work, she let your hands down onto her lap, loosening her grip just slightly. You tried to pull away. Her grip becomes firm once more stopping you and locking your hands in hers. You look up at her in surprise, but her eyes are fixed on the road ahead, seeming calm and relaxed as she watches the trees go by. She proceeds to hold your hands for the rest of the ride, to the store.

……………………….....................................................................

It had taken the three of you forever to get through the quite short list of groceries. Oh, yeah and they had insisted on helping you shop. Nat making some teasing remarks about how you were practically helpless on your own. You had of course protested, telling them you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Which the two women had completely ignored, simply dragging you along with them. Taking turns holding on to your arm or hand, Natashas grip was not as soft as Wandas, as if she was afraid you may disappear on them if she let go. Natasha had carried your groceries to their car and for a second you lost yourself in a day dream where this would be a regular occurrence. Going grocery shopping  with the two, holding Wanda's hand as Nat inspected each item you picked out, not letting you buy anything she didn’t deem good enough.

You were completely lost in a dreamy state, blissfully watching the snow as the car came to a stop in front of their house. You frowned in confusion looking at the two women.

“Come inside котенок, so you can get warmed up. We wouldn’t want you getting sick.” Wanda spoke softly.

“But-” you said, being cut off quickly.

“Don’t worry I’ll go over with the groceries to your house.” Wanda said. You nodded carefully. Your dad shouldn’t be home for another two hours, but you never know.

“I’ll make up a good excuse for you, don’t worry sweet thing. You just go with Natasha and I’ll be back in a second.” She said before grabbing the bags and heading off.

“Careful, Wanda. Wi.. with... the icy road.” You said in a low voice, all of a sudden hit with worry for the brunette.

“You're cute kitten, but you don’t need to worry about Wanda.” Natasha spoke in a sweeter tone than you had heard from her before. Grabbing your hand she spoke once again.

“Now come.” She opened the door and pulled you inside. Despite what Nat had said the other day, the house did not look like someone just moved in. It was warm, cosy and smelled of Christmas. You felt yourself wondering which one of them had decorated and made a mental note of asking, as you really liked their taste. Struggle to keep your eyes open as you were suddenly getting very tired. Natasha turned on some soft Christmas music as you walked around slowly looking over their decor. On a shelf stood a small frame with a picture of Nat and Wanda, you smiled at how happy they seemed in the picture. Natasha approached laying a hand on her shoulder, she turned you around. She scanned over you, her eyes lingering slightly on your body before they reached your face.

“Oh, малышка. You're so wet.” She says. Your eyes widen at her statement how did she-

“Wha.. uggh..” You choked on your words.

“Your clothes.” she corrected herself, realising how it all sounded. Still with the same concern on her face, trying to hide an amused smirk. Her lip slightly twitched as she watched you nod carefully, not daring to acknowledge Natashas slip up.

”I’ll get you something else to wear” she takes your hand leading you up the stairs. Reaching their bedroom she continued. ”Sweetheart, why don’t you take a warm bath while I find new dry clothes.” She spoke while looking through a drawer.

”Oh, no. I have taken up too much of your time already. I don’t wan-” Nat cuts you off.

”Nonsense! You were going to come here tonight regardless.” She reassures you. Before you can say anything else Wanda appears in the doorway.

”Plus, we enjoy having you here, детка.” She grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, where she starts up the bath.

”Oh, my poor baby, your cheeks are all red from the snow.” She says grabbing them, stroking your cheeks with her thumbs. Making you blush even more.

”You are making it worse?” Nat chuckles entering the room. Wanda gives her a sharp look, then she looks back at you.

”Did I, kitten?” She asks, making sure you look in her eyes. You shake your head excessively, not caring how it looked anymore, just wanting Wanda's hands to stay on you. Both women giggle at your actions, sharing a knowing look. Nat walks over brushing against you, before bending down to turn the tap off. Your eyes landing shamefully on her ass. Wanda, noticing your eyes, playfully slapped her girlfriend's butt. Both women laugh, Natasha giving Wanda a warning look, before pecking her on the lips. You shiver when her gaze reach you.

”Don’t worry baby, she likes it.” She pauses, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. ”But she prefers giving them out.” Wanda winks at you.

”Oh” you say shyly. Wanda simply smirks.

”We’ll let you get in the bath now, kitten.” Natasha says, dragging Wanda out with her. You hurried into the bath, needing a distraction from all your thoughts, that were all but clean. Once in the bath you relax, the hot water feels nice on your cold skin. You had just shut your eyes and were close to dozing off, when the door opened. You jump, covering yourself with the bubbles and arms over your chest.

”I’m so sorry for startling you kitten.” Wanda says, not looking very sorry at all. ”I think I left my phone in her.” She scans the room before finding it on the sink. She grabs it and is about to walk out, but stops seeing you. Her eyes landed on your chest which you were covering with your hands and arms the best you could.

”Oh.” A moan escaped her lips. Which shocked you, blushing and attempting to cover yourself more.

”You’re a very pretty little thing котенок.” She said almost out of breath, walking over to where you were sitting. Your knees now drawn to your chest, thinking you have now managed to cover up. Forgetting that from Wanda's view, hovering above, they were even more on display. She seemed to be debating something in her mind, before stretching her hand out stroking your cheek. You lean in to her touch, as her hand trails down to your chin. Her thumb starts to trace your lower lip, but she is interrupted by Nat shouting something from downstairs. Wanda stopped herself and removed her hand.

”I better go help her, before she burns down the kitchen” she says hesitating slightly before  leaving you with a warm smile.

..............................................................................

After Your bath you got dressed and headed down stairs. You were met with the smell of food, and you felt hungry all of a sudden. Wanda and Nat were standing in the kitchen having some wine.

“Come sit. Was your bath nice?” Wanda said seemingly back to normal. You walked over humming in response. Nat pulled out your share and you sat down thanking her. Wanda sat down across the table and Natasha next to you. Your eyes went to Wanda's glass then Nat's, looking around the table you realised you didn’t have one.

“Remember what I said about alcohol, котенок?” Wanda said in a tone that suggested she was asking a question, but was actually a warning not to ask for anything.

“My birthday is next week, It’s fine.” You say, slightly confused. Most people wouldn’t care, even if legally you weren’t necessarily old enough.

“Well then we’ll get you something nice.” Wanda spoke sweetly, ignoring what you were trying to say.

“Have a sip of mine kitten.” Natasha holds her glass up to your lips. You look over to Wanda who gives you a nod of approval and so you do.

Natasha had actually managed to almost start a fire as it turns out. She had burned the chicken and so you were all left with mostly salad and some bread on the side, but you didn't mind. You tried to show that to Nat. Whenever you caught her looking at the burnt food with a frustrated frown, you would grab her attention and shoot her a smile. Assuring them both you were very thankful.  You decided to help clear the table once done, making them stay seated while you collected the plates. When you were done you grabbed yourself a glass of water and the wine bottle, walking back to the table. Wanda gave you a skeptic look eyeing the bottle in your hand.

“For, you.” You say with an innocent smile putting it close to Wanda and as far away from you as possible, scared you may actually piss her off, if she thought you were trying something.

“So, thoughtful.. our little kitten.”She trailed of looking at Natasha.

“котенок” Natasha says, grabbing your attention. “ We have been meaning to ask you something.” You nod, now nervous. Nat looks over to Wanda who continues.

“Well you see sweet thing, we really enjoy spending time with you and we were hoping maybe you wouldn’t mind if Me and Natty took you out sometime.” Wanda paused, seeming nervous all of a sudden. “ Like on a date.” Nat clarified. You smile looking between the two, surprised, but excited by the prospect of going out on a date with the two.

“Yes! I would love to.” You say, blushing as the two giggle at your excitement. You look down at your hands to hide your red face. The two women share a look before Natasha leans in.

“I’m glad, baby girl.” She whispers in your ear, placing a hand on your naked thigh and squeezing it. A quiet moan escapes your lips as her hand moves further up, pushing up the pajama shorts that belonged to Wanda. Your breathing becomes heavy.

“You like that котенок?” Natasha speaks in a low sultry voice, close enough you can feel the warmth of her breath on your neck.

“Mhm..” You hum in response.

“Eyes up baby girl.” Wanda demands and your eyes shoot up to her. You keep your eyes on Wanda as Natashas hand moves to the inside of your thigh. Wanda's eyes grew dark, but she stayed sipping her wine, eyes fixed on you. You gasp when Natasha separates your thighs, sparing no time before moving her hand between your legs. You gasp letting out an obscenely loud moan, one could have thought you had never been touched before. Natashas breath picked up as well.

“Don’t worry baby, we want to hear you.” Nat says, pushing two fingers into you. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel yourself tightening around Nat's fingers. When she curls them you let out a whine.

“Open your eyes.” Nat whispers in your ear, and as you do you see Wanda still watching you, Her eyes roaming over your body hungrily, struggling to stay put in her seat.

“Why don’t you give mommy something to look at. Hm?” She tugs at your shirt. You comply by pulling it over your head. Receiving a moan from both women as they realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Wanda rushed to her feet, no longer able to control herself. She walks over to you. She leans down and starts kissing you roughly, as her hands find their way to your breasts rubbing your hardened nipples. Nats fingers speed up and you moan loudly into Wanda's mouth grabbing her waist to pull her closer, she ends up straddling you, making sure to leave room between you for Nats hand to move freely.

“ You close baby girl?” Nat speaks, removing herself from your neck where she had previously  been marking you.

“Ye.. yes.. please I’m so close.” You try to speak, watching Wanda move against your thigh, desperate for some friction too. You start to shake from the approaching orgasm, as your hands grab on to Wandas hips helping her grind your thigh.

“Eventually baby.” Nat says and pulls out her fingers. You whimper pulling Wanda closer hoping she could give you what you so desperately needed. And for a moment Wanda grinds into you, before Natasha slaps her thigh.

“Not tonight, remember.” Natasha says in a warning tone, as Wanda gets off you groaning. You’re sat there with almost teary eyes, looking up at the two women.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll take care of you, but not tonight.” Natasha says, helping you put your shirt back on.

“But… mommy?” You look at Wanda with pleading eyes.

“I know kitten. But you have to listen to Nat, it will be worth the wait, trust me.” Wanda spoke softly, still out of breath.

“Now you better hurry home, baby, before they start to worry.” Nat says, leading you to the door. You get dressed with your head hanging low. Standing by the door Natasha pulls you in for a soft kiss.

“No sad faces котенок, you’ll survive til tomorrow.” Natasha whispers, kissing your cheek.

Wanda squeezed your side agreeing with Nat, even though she didn’t look like she would survive til tomorrow.

“I don’t like to leave you.” You say nuzzling your head into Wanda.

“I know kitten, but tomorrow you won’t be able to.”  Natasha says with a smirk. you swallow now scared of what their plans actually were for the next evening.

“Now go, get some rest baby girl, you’ll need it.” Wanda says giving you one last kiss.

......................................................................................

I hope you enjoyed. :)

Taglist 

@temptationsbrew​

#mommy wanda #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #Natash x Wanda #reader #fluff #smut #natasha romonova #wanda maximoff #wandanat #mommy kink #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha x wanda #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n

[cloveroctobers]

in which you used to date / with my favs

I’m taking a aim at writing for my other men, please go easy on me lol! Inspired by those intriguing YouTube channel’s like “The Cut” for this one. So yes this is interviewer style I guess! Also written with WOC or POC in mind but not really specified until certain excerpts that is…!

FEZ

“Why did we break up?” You read the question as you sat across from your ex.

You and Fez dated for almost two years until he was the one to break things off. That happened the summer before you went off to college. You graduated with a associates and moved on from the heaviness that was your home back in California. Of course you learned to move on from Fez and occasionally Ash would hit you up on Instagram, checking in on you? When it really should have been the other way around but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment and how important you’ve became in Ash’s life and his in yours.

Fez didn’t give a shit about the socials, none of that was important. What mattered was what happened in the now rather than what someone else thought onlookers would want to see. And he was right about that, at first you hated that he hated social media because a part of you wanted to know what he had been up to. You were too stubborn to ask Ash how he’s been—even out of politeness you wouldn’t ask. Life went on and here you were a couple of years later sitting across from each other for this little social experiment?

The both of you had Ash to blame for that.

Fez looked disinterested, slouched backwards in his chair messing with his fingers trying to look anywhere else but at you—especially at this question. It felt like hours before he drawled out a answer.

“It’s ‘cuz you always thought promiscuous was the best song choice to sing when you were drunk off yo ass.”

It took you a second to respond with a snort of laughter. That response seemed to ease a little tension between the two of you, your bodies relaxing just a tad. “It was actually say it right but—

Fez held his hands out silently asking if that was supposed to mean something to him. He gained some points for remembering the song name at least? Right?

“…so…are you going to let the question slide and take a drink or are you going to let the people know?” You kept your eyes trained on the sea-colored ones across from you.

Mentioning the others in the room seemed to make Fez fold into his shell a little bit more. Which you silently kicked yourself for but he shifted, pressing his elbows into the table in front of you. He then rubbed at the thickness of his copper beard and thought about it.

“I’ma be honest.” Fez slowly replied, “You know I’m not coo with the liquor and you deserve a answer after all these years. I owe you that.”

You held your breath, knowing that this was about to get real. You were finally about to get some answers. Some closure that you needed. That many of your friends said you needed.

Fez licked at his bottom lip, glancing downwards before leaning on his elbows again, “i never felt like I was good enough for you…you knew that. Yet you still stayed around especially when things got real outta control and that was a real ass revelation for me you know? I couldn’t continue potentially fucking up your life anymore so I pushed you to go and you finally did.”

You huffed, feeling so many things and kicking yourself for not fighting harder. You loved Fez with all you had and you let him get into your head, you let him push you away so that you could do what you wanted to do in life. He’s never once stopped you from figuring out what you wanted to do, he was never the type. He did his shit, you stayed by him, and was always yourself. You never judged him for doing what he had to do to take care of himself, Ash, and his grandma. However the both of you knew that all that shit would catch up to him, it was only a matter of time.

You were glad that he was still here. You wanted Fez to still be here, to still be in your life. It hurt to finally hear the truth that he’s been holding onto all this time. And you felt your eyes burning as you got up from your seat a bit to whack at Fez’s chest.

“So we choosing violence?” Fez held his clavicle.

You nodded, “hell yeah because that’s all you had to say!”

“I’ve told you that before.”

“Yeah but this time was different…this was all after you—

You were sure the editors would bleep that out.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference tho,” Fez shrugged his shoulders, “you still went.” And with that he sat back, his eyes now burning into yours.

And that you did. That was what you had to accept. And get over being more angry with yourself first for leaving than with Fez pushing you to.

JORDAN BAKER

Jordan pinched at the bridge of his nose, smiling at the question you just asked him. Jordan was probably one of the only exes that you had that you were still cool with.

“Out of all my exes…why you?” Jordan paraphrased, laughing a bit again.

It really wasn’t all that funny but thinking back on Jordan’s track record? It evoked a little chuckle. Just a little.

“So I wouldn’t dare ask the others to have this moment with me because…it might sound a little harsh to say this but I wouldn’t consider them really my exes.” Jordan winced.

You glanced to your right in the direction of the camera crew, “they’re more his flings/lovers. Wasn’t ever serious, there was one before me. Her names Ripley.”

“And she really hates my ass now that I’m married.” Jordan chuckled.

Okay so the two of you might be a little bit tipsy right now but jordan was always the lightweight.

“That part.” You pointed.

Jordan sighed resting his cheek into the palm of his hand, “and Simone doesn’t have to tolerate you, I think she actually likes you.”

“I don’t know about all that.” You laughed, “I just made it clear that I won’t ever intervene with your relationship or ever dive back into those teen feelings for you.”

Jordan turned his eyes into slits, “what’s that saying? Never say never?”

“Okay, Brandy.” You snapped your fingers.

Jordan shrugged his shoulders, “I was thinking more Bieber and Jaden but alright.”

“Of course you were,” You rolled your eyes while Jordan furrowed his thick brows as if to question what that meant, “Don’t you always say Simone is your soulmate, boy if you don’t tone that ego down!” You sassed.

Jordan raced his hands in defense, “you’re right, you’re right. I’m just joking you guys, I’m happily in love with my wife.”

“Absolutely and I’m happy that you’re happy,” You held up the shot glass in which Jordan took a inhale through his teeth but raised his own nonetheless, “so don’t start nothing in the comments. Cheers!”

“Why are we taking another shot if we answered the question?” Jordan frowned.

Clinking your glasses together you tossed your head back and let the liquor burn the back of your throat while Jordan sipped at it. You booed at him until he scoffed and tossed his own head back to fully take it then reached forward to snatch a lime.

“He can’t hang with me, y’all.”

“I can hang,” Jordan winced as he felt some hair grow on his chest, “I see why GW always encouraged dad and I to take some whiskey when we catch a cold. Jesus!” He shudders while you held your hands out to prove your point, “Alright, I just can’t hang like I use to. You win.”

“Always do.” You winked at him leaning your cheek into your palm as you smiled sweetly at Jordan who huffed with a shake of his head.

ANGEL REYES

“What do you think is the hardest part of what I do for a living?” You asked, placing the card down and peering over at your ex-husband.

Angel Reyes breathed out a laugh, “Thank god that wasn’t my question to you.”

You also laughed.

“Right, I would have laid all your business out in a heartbeat.” You held your arms out.

Angel tapped his unlit cigarette against the wooden table with a smirk, “yeah and you might be getting a call from bishop later tonight.”

You raised a brow at the mention of the man but said nothing else. That man was in charge of Angel, not you. You were separate but you weren’t going to take it there, not unless it needed to go there.

“Y/N’s a doctor. Real smart like my idiot brother. Always in a lab coat, glasses and shit. They can diagnose and provide the best treatment plans for people.” Angel summarized as a little background for those watching.

“So a pathologist.” One of the camera men stated.

Angel glanced over at the man who shrunk back behind the others, “yea thanks, that’s what I said fuckin’ jimmy neutron.”

You went to slap Angel’s wrist to gain his attention back on you. He gave you a look before continuing, “to answer the question I think any job is hard enough if you’re the one dealing with it. Obviously right? But I know it ain’t easy to tell people that you got something that you don’t ever want. I know you don’t always directly tell them that you almost always relate the message to their doctors but you got a big heart so I know every diagnosis gets to you even if you don’t know that person. Me on the other hand? If they were a shit person then that’s what you get. That’s your own karma. But that’s not Y/N, they’re gonna feel for you regardless.”

“It’s the cancer in me.”

Angel’s face went completely blank, “what…why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Angel, You know when my birthday is right?”

Angel was still confused, “June 29th…said you were born at 6 in the morning or something.”

“Then that makes me a cancer.”

You could see the wheels turning in Angel’s head before he sat back in his chair with a grunt, “you talkin’ about that zodiac shit again? About to give me a damn heart attack, I immediately thought about the other thing.”

“Aw you still care about me,” You walked your hand over to lace your hands together while Angel rolled his eyes as if it wasn’t obvious, “Angel’s a Scorpio sun, Sag moon, and Aries rising for those who are curious.”

A few ‘ah’s’ sounded around the room making Angel frown at that before glancing back at you who was clearly trying to hide their laughter. He hated when you did that shit, talk about things he didn’t know about. You did it quite a bit with EZ and it irked him until you would finally let him in on it. He’s heard you talk about this astrology shit quite a bit in your marriage. Even read a few of your books and went to some astrology reading appointments you had but when he told you that lady gave him the, “heebie jeebies” along with watching conspiracy videos on the zodiac killer he was not down with the astrology shit. No way. Keep that Bruja shit to yourself, thanks.

“I feel like you just put my whole business out there and I don’t like that.” Angel muttered as he stared down at your conjoined hands, liking how your hand still fit right in his.

You squeezed his hand, “not really. There’s a good percentage of people in the world just like you that don’t believe in the stars so…don’t take it so personal.”

“I believe in a lot though.” Angel argued, pushing forward again.

You nodded your head, knowing this.

“Like we might not be destined to be married but we could still be something.” Angel flirted making you groan and snatch your hand back but he held on tight bringing your hand to his lips.

You playfully gagged as he pressed a kiss there trying to snatch your hand back. “Please someone cut the cameras and get me a restraining order stat.”

“They ain’t getting rid of me regardless if we’re divorced or not. You stuck with me, I been told you that since the day we met.” Angel let you have your hand back which you rested back on your lap.

You reached for a shot knowing that this would always be in fact true. Sure your marriage was short lived but your friendship would probably be forever. You’ve been through too much to just up and leave each other for good. Marriage was hard sure but friendship was even harder…and yet here you two were still in each other’s lives going strong for who knows how long. This was just the way the two of you worked and no one else could change that.

EZ REYES

You and EZ were currently in a staring contest due to what the question he read requested the two of you to do. You and EZ had a playful relationship before and after you two got together and it still felt the same afterwards. This was mainly a ex segment that the two of you got wrapped up into (the cash reward was a nice bonus as well!) but in your mind you still didn’t consider each other exes whereas EZ would proudly say that you were. He had no issue claiming you whereas you had commitment issues and just downplayed what the two of you were.

In a sense this was like a therapy session that needed to be had but with a little fun on the side when it got too deep. You had a feeling it would get deep quicker than the fun lasts.

You studied Ez’s face, trying your hardest to not blink while in the mist. He still looked the same, still felt the same, and was still same ‘ol Ezekiel Reyes. He smiled wide at you, not blinking, which was insane! And would have been creepy if he didn’t look the way that he did. His eyes crinkled at the sides as he kept his trained on your face as well. It was you who blinked once he ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You’re such a bastard! Out here cheating.” You folded your arms while EZ chuckled to himself.

“How did I cheat exactly?” Ez picked the card back up, flipping the edges against his fingers.

You fanned your hand at his face, “you know what you did! You sitting there in all your handsome glory. I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we knew each other quite well, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Ezekiel but I go by EZ.” He held his hand out smirking at you but you smacked his hand away before folding your arms back together.

You mocked his charming ways as he cracked up in front of you. “Y/N is a sore loser, if you didn’t catch that.”

“And EZ is a cheater and plays dirty.”

“It’s not my fault you think I’m so handsome.” He cooed.

“I never said that.”

Ez looked at the crew and held his finger up, “let’s rewind the footage back, I was called handsome was I not?”

“I said handsome glory, not so handsome.”

“Same shit.” He shrugged, stupid smile still shining.

“I can’t stand this ni-.”

After a moment of you gathering yourself Ez repeated what was asked of you two, “Since you blinked first, Y/N. You must reveal a personal problem and ask your partner, me, for advice on how they might handle it. So do spill.”

One thing about EZ Reyes, he was always good at giving you advice and being there for you when you needed it. This was not a big thing but there was one thing on your mind that was bugging you but you just weren’t sure if this was something you should bring to the table, especially with the guy that you sorta kinda still had feelings for.

“Okay so there’s this Irish dude that lives next door to me, his cat keeps getting into my apartment because of my stupid window…you know the situation with that.”

Ez smirked to himself which you chose to ignore.

“And he’s always coming around at weird times of the night looking for his cat and I genuinely think he’s doing this on purpose. I don’t know why he’s up at these times but you know I’m always morning shift so you mess with my sleep it automatically means you’re asking for me to commit homicide.” You told your story which Ez listened to patiently as you blabbed on almost getting to the point.

“I think he’s an engineer or something cause there’s always this buzzing and he’s always carrying this equipment. Anyways, on top of that! he’s always parking in my parking spot because he apparently has money and has two cars and feels like it’s okay to park in my second spot.”

“Why do you need two parking spots, you only drive a beetle? You won’t let me get you a bike, and you only care about that toy looking car and your rollerblades.” Ez asked.

You paused, “becaaause when I signed the lease I was assigned two parking spaces. Most apartments get one or two, it all depends. The person that lived there before me had two big ass cars so I was also given the choice of two.”

Ez dipped his head, “okay…but you don’t need the second spot so that’s not something to be really annoyed about right?”

You felt your eye twitch, “we both know that you don’t like when someone takes something that belongs to you.” That came out automatically making Ez exhale before you continued, “Sure I don’t need it but it’s mine and I’ve told him about this twice but he keeps on doing it. And now his cat is missing, I know what you’re thinking, he hasn’t been in my place since I’m in the process of getting the window fixed—

“Wait, who’s fixing the window?”

“Coco.”

“Why didn’t you ask me to fix it? I was the one who broke it.”

“You’re busy lately, Coco isn’t.” You tried to move on from that but Ez wasn’t letting that go.

Ez inhaled, “but I said when you wanted it to be fixed let me know and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Ez, it’s just a window. It wasn’t that serious.”

‘To you.’ Ez thought to himself.

You waited to see if he was going to say anything else but when he didn’t you carried on, “Now he thinks I did something to his cat and there’s scratches on my car and one of his friend’s asked me out, he was drunk but he clearly didn’t like that either that his friend and I are actually carry conversations while the both of us keep it cute and short when we see each other before his cat went missing.” 

Ez blinked hard trying not to roll his eyes, “my advice is to tell him you’re willing to help him look for his cat or put up posters or whatever as long as he respects your parking space and that he needs to request another spot that isn’t yours.”

You silently agreed, you were going to do that anyways…

“And what about his friend that keeps asking me out?” It just flew off your tongue.

Ez stared at you then with something in his eyes that you’ve seen before, that sent shivers down your spine if you were being honest, “if you’re open to see where that goes then go for it. You seem to always know what to do when you want to do it. Also get coco to check out the scratches on your car too.”

He said this but you weren’t sure he meant it.

“Excuse me, can I take a five real quick?” Ez politely asked before getting up from the table with you doing the same.

You called out to him but Ez kept on walking and out of sight. You had no idea what crawled up his ass, and sat back down to unlock your phone.

COCO CRUZ

“Do you think the image you have of yourself matches the image people see you as?” It was like pulling teeth trying to get Coco here, which shouldn’t have been surprising in the first place since it was the same way being with him.

You didn’t think he’d show but he proved you wrong when he plopped down in the chair opposite of you. The way the two of you greeted each other was short but cordial and the interviewers knew just the basis, you were exes and it was a bitter end to it. As to be expected since it was a—sorry have to say it, toxic relationship.

He had a cigarette lit, which he knew you hated the smell of, it actually triggered you since your grandfather used to smoke them heavily and would get the ashes in your hair as you sat by his knees while he watched his boring western films. He even burned you a couple of times, a few times by accident…the rest on purpose. Coco knew about the childhood abuse you endured and yet things turned physical between the two of you. It was a cycle along with his own childhood trauma. It was probably inevitable that the two of you wouldn’t last as a couple but it seemed as if you two really wanted to make it work…you were more vocal about it but Coco could be so cold majority of the time it always felt like he didn’t care enough.

So you were the one to call it quits but he wasn’t having it. It was always push, pull, touch and go with the two of you. However the last straw was when he got drugs involved. You hoped he wasn’t still into that shit, he looked better than the last time you saw him—still rough around the edges but at least he had some weight to him.

Coco took a long drag from his stick and angled his sharp jaw in a different direction to exhale the smoke. He raised his shoulders in response, “I don’t give a fuck about what people see when they look at me. Who are they to me? Nothing.”

Typical Coco Cruz answer.

“Think deeper about the question.” You added just as a interviewer also tossed in, knowing that the temperament of this guy was pretty high.

“We all put out images of ourselves simply by just being, sometimes unintentionally sometimes intentionally. Take your ex, y/n for a example, whatever you think about yourself do you think they also think the same of you?” The interviewer tried to be a mediator.

You silently thanked the person for their help, having a detailed conversation with them earlier before you were all hooked up to wires and went live.

Coco glanced away thinking about it before he settled his eyes back on you. His stare was always so intense, like he was seeing right through you and it was scary because he said you did the same thing to him. He was always the one to challenge you with his stare and then his voice and words. Coco was very skilled that way, knew his advantages and how to use them to get his way or to make someone hurt.

“Pretty sure it does,” He started, “My bitch of a mother—

The way he described the woman made a lot of people in the room gasp while you inhaled. You even heard a, “misogynistic!” Get tossed around, which you expected. You knew the history, they did not. Sure it still doesn’t make it right but you knew the why.

“Never gave a shit about me and definitely not my kids.” Coco voiced, his hands forming into fists as he thought about the horrible woman, “She put into my head since I was five years old that I would never be nothing and anybody that came from me would also be nothing. So yeah once I was in my teens and felt strong enough to find my voice I was able to push back. I was able to get into my own head and say that she didn’t know shit and I could be something. I always felt that I could but by then? constantly hearing that…I was already fucked up. Didn’t believe, didn’t know that I could be something until I went to the army but that shit ain’t help my mental either.”

You met Coco through your mutual friend, Angel. They had a apartment together in Santo Padre and were looking for a roommate. You moved around a lot and was currently leaving from Arizona to California and felt drawn to the city…that’s how it usually went for you when you moved every couple of years. Angel was down for having you move in especially after seeing you, but Coco was more calculated. As he always was. He was cold compared to Angel’s bold, open, and flirtatious ways but it wasn’t anything you haven’t experienced before.

You were from Baltimore.

He was doing his own thing with computers when you met him. Fixing them up, selling them, building them, and even hacking. Amongst other things…So you were sure he did some digging to get the info on you, which should have creeped you out but you needed a place and didn’t have the energy to keep looking. Plus you’ve dealt with much weirder roommates before.

Once you were in, that also meant you built something with both Coco and Angel. However your relationship was much different with Johnny Coco Cruz. You took the time to get to know him, it was magnetic at first, he was still his cold self and Angel told you not to worry about it, that that was just the way he was and that you’d get used to it. But you broke him out of it the longer you decided to stay with them. He didn’t like that but he allowed it. There was something about you that made him he want to be better but he fought with himself because of his pride, he wanted to make himself better. He didn’t want it to be at the cost of someone else.

It was about the sex for him at the start and you weren’t fully aware of that? Until you learned that he and Angel liked to bring other guests home. It wasn’t until you actually started to care that you shifted your dynamic and that left Coco confused. Angel figured it out pretty fucking quick and encouraged you to say what you needed to say, there was never much sugarcoating in the townhouse on 071C Manzanita Drive. And he told Coco that he was being a idiot with the way he was treating the one person that could be good for him.

That still stood. However as you spend years together you learned that Johnny wasn’t the only one that had toxic traits in the relationship. It was something the both of you had to be willing to work on. And here you were, he might be here for the cash but that wasn’t the only reason you were here. A part of you missed him and hoped he missed you too. You don’t just get rid of the love you have for someone so easily.

You may out of anger tell Coco that he wasn’t shit to get a rise out of him, the both of you knew how to push each other’s buttons. Knew what to say to make the other really hurt but you also knew behind that frustration that there was once the potential to be something really great. However two hurt people have to heal separately before they could ever heal together.

“There may have been a time when I truly felt that way about you, which was the last time I saw you. When I broke things off. But that was the only time I agreed with your insecurities because I didn’t want to see you prove your mother right. I was the one to say what you couldn’t admit to yourself, Johnny.” You informed Coco who clenched his jaw at the mention of his mother.

You, Letty, and his kids were the only one’s that mattered to him. Not that woman in a ditch somewhere. He knew he royally fucked up, which he’s done plenty of times in his life but the moment you walked out of his life was the biggest fuck up. He’ll always regret that.

“I’m better you know? Clean.” He told you which he got a genuine smile from in return.

“Glad to hear it.” You said, your body language showing that you were looking forward to hearing more, which made Coco give a ghost of a smile, knowing that you still loved him too.

GAEL MARTINEZ

Gael Martinez was someone you met on a weekend trip for your job at Scarlet Magazine in Manhattan. Your friends: Jane, Sutton, and Kat are all pretty persuasive almost all of the time and contribute to almost all of your bad decisions in life? You argued—which was only a half hearted joke! Of course. You had your own mind, always did. They pushed you to approach the dark curly haired cutie with brown eyes that kept eyeing you at the bar with his own friends.

With some liquid courage you went over to him from your booth and introduced yourself. His hands were that of an artist which he told you he was but was working more in the graphic design area for right now but you could tell that wasn’t where he truly needed or wanted to be. You got all the basics out the way before pulling him to the dance floor and then to the front to have a karaoke duet filled with jams from the 90s. Then from there you all went to the rural side to this lake house, you couldn’t remember who it belonged to but you remembered skinny dipping with the guy.

It was a unforgettable night.

“You should have screwed him, I totally would have screwed him.” Sutton sighed as she held onto your arm the next morning when the three of you waited outside to catch a Uber back to your shared hotel.

“Jane, were you aware that Sutton and Y/N are actually the same person.” Kat yawned from beside their shortest friend.

Jane stretched, “no I had no idea, kat. That explains so much.”

Sutton laughed.

“I do not remember making any plans to have a one night stand. All I wanted was to have fun and I did with my girls and some strangers, one really attractive stranger, what more can I ask for here my first time in Los Angeles?” You leaned against Sutton’s shoulder, sighing with complete content.

Kat muttered, “I don’t know, getting dicked down might have put the cherry on top, if you have a food kink that is.”

Jane tossed her head back in laughter while you chose to ignore that. You girls knew everything about each other and sure it might have been awhile since your last significant other but you weren’t really looking for a relationship and stood by that. You were dedicated to your work and sure Jane, Sutton, and Kat said they respected it but they felt like you deserved some fun not only provided to yourself but from someone else. Which is why they wanted you to have the most fun here in LA. Even if it was only for a weekend.

When a voice cleared, the four of you jumped turning to Gael who gave you all a grin. Just as your Uber pulled up.

“We’ll hold them for you.” Sutton whispered, letting go of your arm as the three of them piled into the car leaving the door open for you when you were ready.

Wringing your hands out you turned back to the taller guy and slowly made your way over to him. You pointed behind, “I’ll give you $2 and some nerds from my bag if you pretend you didn’t hear what my friends said.”

Gael rubbed at the back of his neck laughing, “what? About you getting dicked down with a cherry on top?”

You groaned which Gael chuckled in response, “don’t worry about it. What are friends for if they’re not here to put your business on blast, right? Mine are the same way.”

“Whew,” you wiped the fake sweat off your forehead, “I had a great time meeting you, Gael.”

“And it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance and to give you my sweater.” He pointed out which you peered down at to see covered in some splats of paint.

You immediately went to take the beige cardigan off but he held his hands out to halt your movements, “keep it, it’s still keeping you warm when I can’t. It also gives me another reason to see you again…someday.”

“I leave Monday morning back to New York, we should grab brunch or something on Sunday if you’re free?” You slowly started backing away as he followed you.

“I’d like that.”

You climbed into the car as he shut the door behind you. “See you then. Drive safe. Ladies, you all have a good one.”

“Aw, you too.” Sutton said in awe of this man.

Jane waved, “Bye!”

“Catch ya later, Gael.” Kat gave him a fist bump before turning her attention back to her phone as she sat in the passenger side.

And with that you drove off from the lake house.

“Wait! Do you have his number since you’re ditching us to have brunch tomorrow?” Jane called out.

You slapped your hand against your forehead, completely forgetting that part.

“Don’t worry, I could find his socials for you.” Kat informed, “just give me like a hour tops.”

You couldn’t believe part of you was already getting attached to this complete stranger. Yet here you were.

“He’s already in my contacts.” You announced with a smile.

Sutton made an explosion noise with her lips and a motion with her hands, “gotta love a guy that’s steps ahead of you.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to live through y/n right now.” Jane laughed as she crossed her legs sitting in the middle of the backseat.

“If I wasn’t with Richard, maybe.” Sutton declared, resting her head against the car window.

“Ah yes, can’t believe I forgot about him.” Kat snapped her fingers at the mention of Sutton’s new and older boyfriend.

“Hey!” Sutton lifted her head in offense.

And that was just the beginning of your speedy but heartfelt relationship with Gael Martinez.

To be sitting here with him here in your new home of Manhattan felt like the world did yet another 360 for you. Yes you’ve been back to LA multiple times since the both of you broke up since your family lived there and for more business trips with Richard and the team at Scarlet, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread for the place when you did visit. And sadly it was because of one person. Imagine having one person hold that much power of someplace and you for that mattered.

You hated to be that person. But everything holds a connection to it somehow. This was your closure maybe, at least that’s what you kept trying to tell yourself.

Gael swallowed before he read the question for you this time, “what part of your life works? What part of your life hurts?”

And so you thought about it. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you were going to say, Gael had a pretty good idea about what you were going to say. And your voice confirmed it.

“I love not being here in California anymore. Ever since I went away to college, I’ve been my most free away from a place I spent eighteen years of my life at. It’s been a struggle but I’m glad I can say I’ve made it through, relocated and did something and made something out of myself. Like I always set my mind to. I’ve been living my best life in New York at twenty-five and I never thought I’d like New York when the idea crossed my mind with possibilities of where I’d go to school. But turns out, it works for me.” You told, which Gael gave a smile and nod to.

He hadn’t been there to experience your life in New York but he could see it through social media. Yes he was one of those who keeps up with his exes on the socials…as long as they didn’t block him. You knew how to be mature when it came to certain situations but a part of hoped that he still kept up with you. Hoped that he realized what he missed out on. It’s been two-three years since you’ve broken up so you should be over it but you can’t just forget it even if you forgave him.

“…w-what part of your life hurts?” Gael cautiously met your eyes as he repeated the last question.

You inhaled looking upwards at the ceiling, hoping you wouldn’t let out any tears. You already gave too many of those in your life.

“When it comes to you or just in general?” You countered, letting out a breathy laugh.

You tapped your chin, “I guess not knowing when love runs out. ‘Cause it does and it’s scary and I always felt like if I ever do get married that I’ll always need that reassurance. It’ll probably annoy the hell outta my partner but it’ll make me have some peace of mind. I love myself way too much to bury my worth but I can’t lie and say that I don’t want someone else to share that love. To love me as much as I love them.”

Gael listened, humming as you were open with him. You could always have these conversations late at night when the both of you couldn’t sleep. You did the long distance and the temporary with you living in LA for Scarlet for two months but it was never enough for the two of you. That played a part. Plus you always knew what you wanted and Gael was always indecisive…(Libra!) which played a huge part in your downfall in the relationship.

It was different with each other. The two of you always said this. You did lengthy relationships while Gael had intense relationships that never went anywhere. It was what he was used to. You had one major relationship growing up and you swore there wouldn’t be anyone else that you could love like that. He broke your heart and did some wild shit and tried to come back like everything was okay. But it wasn’t. Never would be. Yes you engaged in a few talking stages and make outs in college but never claimed anyone like they tried to claim you. It was all in good fun as it should be in college. Or you could find your college sweetheart like your mom’s did and your brother Brandon did…but you didn’t.

It was fast with Gael. Always limited but you knew that you should be together and love possessed you. Made you blind into thinking that he would want to marry you. You’ve only been dating for six months when you felt like the both of you were ready. You used to laugh at celebrities that jumped into that and here you were doing the same thing they did. When Gael rejected you on the marriage proposal, you began to second guess everything in that relationship. All your talks about the possible future meant nothing anymore.

“It also hurts to know that you feel like you’re in love with my sister and keep dwelling on that when you’re not even sure if there’s anything else deeper than the intimacy. I also hear you’re having a baby, congratulations.” You reached for a shot of tequila, downing it without a wince.

Gael struggled with what to say. Of course you know about the baby, partly he wondered if Callie told you that or if you were monitoring his socials too, you seemed fine—great even but with the way you were looking at him let him know that he was part of your pain. And of course you were still hurting over his dilemma with Callie. You were only human. He would always be sorry for the way things played out and he wished he could have been more for you.

JAY KULINA

“If you have, when was the moment you realized you weren’t invincible?” You asked your blue-eyed ex-fiancé.

The man across from you was a fighter, always had been, always would be, it was always in his blood. Just like you. You had the honor of growing up beside Jason “Jay” Kulina and all his chaos and all your mess combined. Your father’s were best friends and of course fighters, traveling over the world and having to bring their kids along while they went from motels to hotels and fancy cars and restaurants with each fight that they won. You knew all about the martial arts life and had no choice but to be thrown in it.

When your father was killed in the ring, that changed the way you saw the martial arts world. You were training by sixteen to begin his legacy and was damn good at what you could do already; your mom hated the idea of fighting. She came from a strict religious background and was disowned when she not only married someone from a rough background and profession, but also someone who didn’t share the same ethnicity as themselves. You often bumped heads with your mom finding it humorous how judgmental she could be when she took a leap to be with your father.

She already didn’t like your father fighting for money and no longer came to his shows, it was too much for her to witness but to now hear that her child also wanted to follow in his footsteps caused more anxiety that she didn’t need. Your mother had a history of nervous breakdowns and of course you tried to be sympathetic and understanding but you just wished you could get the same treatment when it came to fighting. You were nineteen years old when you witnessed your father take his last breath in the ring. It only took you six months after you buried him that you also stepped down, no longer wanting to participate.

The only one’s that understood that were Jay, Nate, Lisa, and your mother. Everyone else? Fans? Most from navy st. And of course Alvey and Ryan gave you shit about it and you gave it right the fuck back. It was your decision at the end of the day, people could say whatever they wanted but you knew your dad. And you knew he would have respected your choice regardless from above, you were his kid, and he always told you to do what you felt was best for you because you gotta live with your choices at the end of the day when you lie awake at night—not anybody else. So that’s what you did.

“You and I…we’ve been fighters for as long as we’ve known each other. You with your mouth along with your hands and myself with my heart and hands.” Jay responded, “When we step into the ring we’re completely different people, all that outside shit never matters because of our fight instinct. We are programmed to think that no one can touch us, they can try but one of us will win and it has to be us. We are always number one inside the ring and out, We have to win and it’ll be a helluva show!”

You smiled listening to him. It was nostalgic remembering the first moment you stepped into the ring at sixteen with your dad, then alvey, and then Jay. It all came back to you in the moment as Jay spoke and how that same feeling stayed in your veins as you aged and did underground fights.

“To answer the lovely question I’d say, yes I have had moments where I knew I wasn’t invincible. Yes us MMA fighters walk around with these egos but that’s all part of the persona we have to put on.”

“Plus you’re only like that in the ring. I promise Jay isn’t that much of an asshole, everybody. He’s an ass but not a asshole. He’s actually a nice-well rounded guy.” You spoke up for the man who appreciated your kind words, which he knew you meant.

“In more ways than one,” He sent some finger-guns at whichever camera was focused on his face, “gotta have glute days and I’m not afraid to admit that. Why would I be? Who wants to have a flabby ass when you look this good, am I right?”

You laughed, “alright, we don’t want to talk about your ass for the next fifteen minutes, Jay bay.” You found yourself using the old nickname which made Jay grin over at you.

“Who’s complaining?” He asked, hearing a few people say they weren’t which surprised you, “You used to love this ass.” He kissed his lips at you which made you smack your lips.

You shook your head, “unfortunately, I still do love your ass.”

“Yeah, I know.” He clasped his hands together trying to look professional yet again, “so let me have my moment, buttercup.”

“You have a lot of moments.” You muttered to yourself.

Jay fixed the shades sliding down from his hair and went on, “Outside of that, I’m a pretty emotional guy. I’m in touch with my feelings, again not too many guy’s can say that. I might not always handle things right based on those emotions but I’m not some robot or cold person like my dad. If you read about me from a certain ex, not this gorgeous person in front of me, but another ex from years back you might see some things that may or may not be true. That’s up to you. But I think I was at my weakest when I lost my baby brother, Nate Kulina.”

It was instinct to reach out and hold Jay’s hand’s as he squeezed them tightly. He was getting choked up as his eyes shined with tears and you hated this. Hated that he faced another level of pain that you couldn’t take away from him.

“I’ve lost a lot in life. I’ve got abandonment issues because of it, with my mom, my fucking dad, losing you, and my wife and actual child. But there was no other pain like losing Nate, all because of a hate crime. I’ve struggled so hard these past four years with him not being here and living his life the way that he should. I am a ally more than ever because of Nathaniel Kulina.” Jay was honest, something he always was.

You remembered getting the call from Lisa who told you everything that happened. You were angry with Alvey but your heart immediately hurt for Jay. Nate was basically Jay’s kid, when Alvey was off living his life in the lights who was there taking care of Nate? Jay. He raised Nate like he was his own because he had to and soon learned that he wanted to. It was part of Jay’s purpose. He would tell you this often as you grew up and you knew the connection between the brother’s was unbreakable. They were all they had and you admired that.

You’ve witnessed many moments of Jay in pain but you’ve never seen him so broken when you arrived back to Venice two days before the funeral to see him. That was where you met his wife, who he was separated from, and his daughter, maya. You couldn’t focus too much on that or allowed yourself to because this was about Nate. He became your little brother too and now he was gone. Just like that.

In a month would mark four years since you’ve lost him but you knew this was something Jay lived with constantly. He always said that if there was one thing he couldn’t live without and that was Nate. He said it often and that was one of the main reasons why you made sure someone was there with Jay until you got there. You knew he wasn’t fucking around and that meant that. Nate was his whole world and you loved him enough to be aware of that.

With you now wiping his tears with the pads of your fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheek you cuddled him to your chest as he had his much needed moment remembering his brother. He gripped onto your waist tight taking deep breaths in your arms.

You hoped Jay Kulina kept fighting because you knew he’d give it all that he’s got. He always did. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head and he squeezed you tighter in comfort.

RIO

The two of you were reaching the end of your segment and there were definite moments where you wanted to choke your ex that sat across from you all smug. However you felt like you made progress? Rhea, his first baby mama threw this idea on the both of you and you didn’t have much time to discuss this with Rio. He just decided he would be there and assumed you would be too. He didn’t give you the chance to think about it or really have a say in it. However you still said what you needed to say because you can’t ever hold back with a man like Rio. That was something he always appreciated in his partners.

The two of you were no longer together but you were carrying his baby. His second child and he still treated you with the much needed respect as the mother of his child. He had Mick pick you up to take you this thing Rhea wanted the two of you to do.

“Why can’t you go? I can find something much better to do.” You huffed, taking a huge bite out of the steak quesadilla Rhea prepared for lunch.

Rhea laughed as she glanced over at you from her stove, “like what? Watching reruns of Martin?”

“That was last week, this week it’s a living single.” You declared watching Rhea raise her hands in mock surrender.

It was still crazy to your mother that you could be cool with your ex’s ex. Your mother never had a good relationship with your half brother’s father’s girlfriends but you were two different people. You knew how to move forward plus Rhea never did nothing to do or came out of her neck sideways at you. She was always cool when you came into Rio’s life, and got married and now you struggled to decide if you wanted to go through with the divorce. Right now you were still legally married but living in two different houses. Christopher didn’t enjoy that much but he did whatever you wanted for right now to keep you stress free.

You could use this pregnancy to your advantage for this man to leave you the fuck alone and it was working when you wanted it to. However you were seven months pregnant and approaching birth soon and you had to get some help. You had to figure out what the two of you wanted to do but you got so exhausted with Christopher’s bullshit so this was the time where you didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to be near him or anything like that. He just needed to keep his distance and he did most of the time until he was popping up whenever he felt like it to check on you and the house.

“You’re still my wife, mama.”

“Yeah, that’s what the papers say but I thought your scrawny ass forgot.” You sarcastically replied.

Rio folded his hands in front of himself, “see you and that lip always gets you into trouble.”

“And that’s why you’re still here, dealing with it.” You loved going back and forth with Rio, watching any signs in his face to let you know you were getting on his nerves as much as he was on yours.

It was always subtle and almost hard to miss. Usually he always kept his cool but if he was having a hard time with business and came back to check on you just to hear you running your mouth, he was gonna let you know one way or another. So perhaps living away while you were pregnant was good for the both of you, but now your little one would be here soon so you had to get your shit together as a couple or not.

It was clear that Rio didn’t want to end this marriage. He didn’t get the chance to legally marry Rhea but that wasn’t something she wanted in the first place so she thanked god that he never did ask her to sign anything but he wanted this to work. He was sure about you despite the issues with his business getting in the mix but he wanted you by his side as his wife and mother of his child. He even proposed therapy but you shot that down, not wanting someone random getting in your marriage.

“So it’s fine if Rhea sends us to this questionnaire bullshit for money instead of going to actual professionals?” Rio eyed the crew that hooked him up to wires before glancing down at you.

You gave him the hand, “let me see how this goes and then we’ll talk. Don’t make my blood pressure go up.”

Rio chuckled to himself, knowing you probably wanted to live out some reality tv fantasy but knew what would be said was anything but scripted. He wasn’t holding back a single thing and that he did not.

“If you could prescribe me one thing to do for the rest of this month, what would it be and why?” Rio read to you, sitting up straight.

Sighing you said, “anything that requires you to be home with your family. Just relax.”

“I do that already mama, I make time. I did that for months when Elizabeth shot me.” He addressed making you widen your eyes and cover them.

He laughed as he said this so causal and the fact that you were shocked that he said this like it was nothing. He didn’t care if they edited this out or not but this was just a normal conversation between the two of you, it wouldn’t be any different in therapy if you agreed to go.

“Yeah but I don’t want you to relax based on consequence.” You redirected, “you should make it part of your routine like you do tennis and golfing and not when you just need a break. It’ll be better for you and gives you more time to spend with Marcus.”

“And you and the baby.” He summarized.

You dipped your head.

Rio thought about it and decided, “yeah I could do that mama. I am a business man and you’re my business so I’ll do it for your sake.”

#I hit the mark! and I never thought I would since I’ve been writing all day which is why I don’t write much lol #euphoria #hbo euphoria #fezco #fezco x reader #fezco imagine #fezco euphoria #all american #all american cw #Jordan Baker #Jordan Baker x reader #jimone #mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #Angel Reyes #Angel Reyes x reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x reader #coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #johnny coco cruz #good trouble #gael martinez #Gael Martinez x reader #the bold type #the fosters #jay kulina #rio x reader #good girls rio

[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

Masterlist

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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

[xreaderbooks]

Two sides (2)

Pair: ACOTAR Azriel x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Summary: Y/N has been in love with Cassian for centuries now, Just how Azriel has been with Mor. Both heartbroken by their unrequited love they fall into a routine of 'one-night stands', Not realizing their each others mate.

Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: So I dont know how accurate the mate information is, like I said before I haven’t read the ACOTAR series since 2019 so I probably got a couple things wrong or didn’t write the characters the way you would expect them to act. I chose to make them more how they would be in head canons if you get what I mean. Either way I really hope you enjoyed the 2nd and final part to Two sides :) Feel free to send requests for Azriel or any other Acotar characters. Thank you all for the support <3

"We need to talk."

"Okay," Azriel says skeptically, he walks over to sit on the chair across from you.

"I wanted to apologize for the other night," You shifted in your seat as you spoke, you were noticeably uncomfortable. That bothered Azriel, he wanted you to feel natural not forced, he didn't know where that desire came from but it was true. Even if this conversation was a bit awkward. "I never meant to make you feel used, I guess, I just needed a distraction."

"From seeing Cassian and Nesta together?" He asked. You bit your lip and nodded. "Y/N, I didn't feel used." He let out a small chuckle. "I enjoyed it, actually. And a bit flattered that you chose to-" He coughed awkwardly, "share that part of yourself with me." You grinned. You eased up a bit after knowing that Azriel didn't feel bad about what happened the other night, and even enjoyed it. It also warmed your heart at the fact that this was one of the rare moments that he felt comfortable enough to talk about how he was feeling. Despite it probably being out of sympathy or to defuse the tension.

"Oh," You chirped "well good. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck up our friendship."

He shook his head, "Y/N you've done a lot in the past few centuries that could've fucked up this friendship and we're still okay, better than okay considering. Besides Mor and I are still friends even after..." He tensed up, you went over to him and hesitantly put your hand on top of his.

"I know." You gave him a small smile. "I have an idea, I'll admit it's not my brightest but it will benefit the both of us."

His eyebrow quirked, "Your ideas are never the brightest, that's why you're just my second."

"Okay, wow." You blinked, removing your hand, and started pacing around the room. "First Rhys made me your second because I'm good at my job and you're just better cause of your shadows." He glared at you when you made the comment about his shadows. "Two, I've had a couple of good ideas in the past you just never go through with them."

"Maybe it's because all your ideas are reckless and we'd get caught if we did our job by using your so-called good ideas." He got up to meet you when you turned around to face the other way, you were met by his chest in your way.

You huffed when you looked up at him. "Whatever, I'm pretty sure you were going to like this one." He gave a nod to continue. "I- you know what I think it's better if I just show you."

He cocked his head to the side. You took this as an opportunity to grab him by the back of his neck and slammed your lips onto his. Immediately after he put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. He started walking backward, leading you towards one of the bedrooms. Your foreheads pressed together but you paused from kissing him, catching your breath. You knew he could hear your heartbeat, beating quicker by the second, his heart was beating faster too. It gave you all the encouragement you needed to start taking off your clothes.

"So this was your bright idea," Azriel asked, while also hurriedly taking off his clothes.

"Mhm." Was your response before nodding and relocating your lips onto his.

The intensity of it made your heart stutter. You wanted him and at that moment he wanted you. He truly wanted you, you both felt it and took that feeling, using it to fuel the passion in that kiss. He moved down to your neck, nipping and biting at it. You moved your hand to slowly graze his wings, which made him freeze. Azriel gave you a look that made your body go on overdrive.

He picked you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he continued to "eat your neck" as Cassian had said all those days before. You rolled your eyes at the thought, but then they rolled back as Azriel bit at a sensitive area that intensified that already intoxicating feeling you got when you were with him.

And you wished it never ended.

~~~

"How do you feel about this?" You asked, hoping he'd be okay with it. So far he hadn't opposed.

"I don't want to hurt you." He confessed. You knew he meant physically, he could be a little rough sometimes. You were okay with that though, You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"I'm serious Y/N." He looked you in the eye. You were back at the training grounds of the Illyrian camp. You didn't specify any details, so you both didn't care about speaking in public.

"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle it." You began to walk ahead of him, He grabbed your forearm and pulled you back to face him, a hint of a smile on your face. "Only if you're sure."

Your smile faded once you saw that he was genuinely concerned. "Az, you wouldn't hurt me. I trust you."

He froze and let you go. He had a hard time letting people see how he was feeling but you could tell he was struggling with letting you in and his self-deprecation.

~~~

You had kept your secret "relationship" hidden from everyone else, as much as you could. It didn't take long. They were extremely nosy and it was difficult with Mor being your best friend. She always knew when you were lying and had insisted you were acting differently. You would always blow it off and say you had a good day, telling a random story you just thought of on the spot.

Cassian had continued to tease you about your secret lover-- which only intrigued Mor even further-- you avoided the truth most of the time. You and Azriel would be extra careful when doing what you did. Sometimes even going to Inns and you would both winnow to the location.

Going through all that trouble only for Amren to find out and threaten to tell the others. She tried to blackmail you into buying her a pure diamond bracelet. As if she couldn't afford it yourself. You talked to Azriel about it and you both decided you didn't care if anyone else knew, it's only a matter of time before they found out anyway. Plus you could use the money to buy a house somewhere private in Velaris. You enjoyed the privacy and lack of teasing for as long as it lasted.

Amren didn't tell but as you predicted, everyone did find out. Some already had suspicions like Mor, Rhys, and Feyre. Amren wouldn't have known if she hadn't caught you both and Cassian never would have thought. You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed at him not showing any sign of jealousy. You knew he wouldn't be, being caught up with Nesta and all but you still held hope. You considered yourself a fool and would try to fuck the feelings out of you with Azriel. And most of the time it worked.

~~~

Months went by as sleeping with your best friend became your new normal. You never would have thought that you'd be one of those mysterious girls that Azriel hooked up with, ever since that night, you were the only girl. You had to admit, you liked the idea; being Azriel's only girl. But you knew that although you would be the only girl in his bed, Mor will always be on his mind. Not that you blamed him, you were still somewhat hung up on Cassian. After you can't get rid of 500+ years of feelings.

As you laid next to Azriel, who now stayed nights instead of leaving right after, You admired his tattoos, the intricate designs, you fought the urge to trace them. You did anyways but only a centimeter away from his chest so you wouldn't wake him. In the morning light that slipped through a slight gap in your curtains, It shone right on him. He looked ethereal.

You always knew he was attractive most Illyrian men were, at least if they weren't assholes most of the time. You had time now, to actually take in his beauty. You could never understand how someone so beautiful and kind could be so broken. You guessed that's why you chose him to spend your nights with, instead of some random guy. You could help him and heal him and get him to appreciate himself more.

The shadows around him became more active, it made him tense up. He was awake. You lifted your hand up to up to move the stray hair that fell onto his face. At that moment, you felt your world shift an overwhelming sensation of love and adoration consumed your body and you snatched your hand away from him. You were in pure shock.

'Holy fuck' Was the only thing going through your head.

"What's wrong?"He questioned as if he could sense your distress. His voice hoarse from just waking up.

"Nothing." You said, immediately getting up and getting dressed in whatever you had closest to you. "You should, um, You should get going. I have a lot of reports to do, I've been holding them off but Rhys has been asking me for them for the longest so I should get on it."

Azriel sat up, the bed sheet covering one leg and another part. His perfectly sculpted body in your bed, the lighting, half of his leg uncovered by the blanket. You tried to compose yourself to figure out what you would do. Hoping that he didn't pick up on how different you were acting. It was no use he probably already expected something was up.

To try to ease the tension you sat next to him, brushing the hair out of his face, dragging your fingertips down to the side of his face, and kissed his cheek. You ignored the tingles you felt as his face nuzzled into your hand. Hesitantly, you remove your hand and got up from the bed, and sat at the desk you had in your room. You pretended to read through old letters from officials.

Azriel took that as his cue to leave. He got dressed and pressed a kiss to the back of your head before he left.

He definitely knew something, that's not how your mornings usually go. You would at least spend an hour or two together either talking or enjoying each other's presence before sending each other off to your respective duties. However due to your new discovery of Azriel being your mate. You panicked. What would you do now?

~~~

Hours had passed and you hadn't left your room, choosing to focus on the reports that you did in fact, have to do. Rhys just wasn't expecting them for another week or so. Mor then busted into your room. "Knock, knock bitch."

"Uh, hello gorgeous, didn't expect a lovely visit from you today." You said sarcastically, turning your chair to face her. She dropped the shopping bags onto your floor. You lifted a brow in question.

"We're going on a trip!"

"I'm busy." You turned back around to focus on what you were writing.

"It's a fun work one." You twisted your chair around again.

"How do you mean?"

"Day court gala, bonding with people, gaining trust, and all that." She waved it off as if you didn't need to know actual information. You decided you'd ask for details from Rhysand later.

"And you went shopping." You gestured to all of the bags. "like you don't have tons of outfits you could take."

"Well of course I do. These are for you." She grinned.

"W-what?"

"Just because you're supposed to be invisible and all that, doesn't mean you have to be like that all the time." She referred to your job description, being another spy for Rhysand, relying on you being a woman to get information from people Azriel couldn't. Kind of ridiculous considering Azriel's shadows allowed him to get all the information needed but it was an easy enough job. Unlike Az, you didn't have shadows to command so you stuck to your black outfits tunics, and suits that would help you move easily. You never really dressed up, unless it was for an occasion, but you enjoyed doing it when you could. Most of the time you would be on duty or something like it so you couldn't.

This Gala gave you the perfect excuse too. You were thankful to Mor for having bought you these dresses and accessories. You were pretty sure you had worn all the dresses you had in your closet already.

"Yeah, you're right." You gave her a half-smile. Part of you wondered what Azriel's reaction would be to you in one of these revealing dresses. You shook the thought from your head. You would dress for yourself not for some male, even if that male is your mate.

You debated whether to tell Mor or not. She might be able to help you with your internal battle. Part of you was hurt about Cassian not being your mate. Another part always knew that he wasn't, and another part of you wondered how Azriel would react. Did he feel the bond snap into place? Or was it a Feyre-Rhysand situation where the bond would snap into place at another moment? Would he reject you cause you weren't Mor?

You opted to tell Mor at the day court where you would have more space and privacy from the others.

~~~

Helion's words about uniting and bonding were very heartwarming and kind, but you couldn't get past the thoughts that swarmed your mind. You took advantage of this time with everyone listening to Helions welcoming speech and sneakily made your way over to where Mor was standing. You pretended to greet her with a kiss and whispered in her ear to meet you in the room you were staying at.

"Thank the cauldron you came along, Helion was droning on and was about to make me fall asleep." She joked as she sauntered into your room. She paused her amused tone as soon as she saw your face. "You were fine like two minutes ago."

"Glad to know, I'm good at hiding it." You forced a smile. She tilted her head as if to ask you 'what's wrong', so you told her. You told her that Azriel was your mate and how it happened. You told her of your fears of rejection and confusion with your love for Cassian. It was a different love now, you felt it. There was a shift in what you felt towards Cassian and more intense feelings for Azriel. You suspected the bond but you didn't mind it. You then opened up about your insecurity about him rejecting you for her. Which she shut down, though she knew what you meant.

"Mor, Azriel loves you, like I loved Cassian. What if his love for you is stronger and he refuses to let go. We all know the only reason he never went for you is his trouble with his self-worth." Those were harsh words, but they were true. "He could easily reject me for you, knowing you don't love him in that way."

"You don't know that Y/N. And you loved Cassian, probably as much as Azriel loved me. After all this time you spent together, you truly don't think he would have changed the way he feels for me?" She grabbed your hand in hers. "You and Azriel are like two sides of the same coin, he's all dark and brooding and you, well you're the same in some ways. But you bring out the light and you can cast out all of his darkness with a simple smile."

"I don't know." You whispered. You were scared. Your feelings for Azriel already began to grow, without the bond, with it in place now it was strengthened. Your feelings for Cassian was a background noise that would soon grow into a more familial type of love.

"What should I do Mor?" You whimpered, you put your face in your hands. "I feel like a girl with a crush. This is ridiculous."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes it is. On the bright side, if he doesn't know about you being mates, you could still have fun with other people."

You gave her a look. "You forget that he's my designated person to 'have fun' with."

"I didn't know you had a conversation on exclusivity." She shrugged and walked over to the cart that had alcoholic drinks, at the corner of the room.

"Technically we did when we agreed to sleep with each other when we felt like it." You reasoned.

"Hm." She mused, sipping on her drink. "I still say enjoy tonight, dance with a few males, or females, and if you two end up having sex with him again just enjoy the time you have with him."

"Thanks for the talk, Mor."

"Of course darling, by the way, I highly doubt he'll reject you. If he does he's an idiot and I'll kill him." She sent a wink your way and left you in your room to think.

~~~

Azriel watched as you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. A man who he didn't know came up from behind you, keeping up with you. That was the first of many. He felt a twinge of jealousy in his gut. He attempted to force that emotion down. He couldn't understand where that was coming from.

He was keeping watch, even though he always made sure to keep a lookout for danger to his court. Mor and Cassian tried to get him to ease up, he didn't budge. Who would pry Cassian from more liquor when he's had enough to drink if Azriel wasn't sober? He used the excuse of being the only responsible one to keep an eye on her. Y/n, Azriel thought he knew what it was to love someone because of Mor but what Azriel felt for Y/N was different. It felt raw and real and whatever it was, was growing fast. She was easy to talk to, not that he did much of that but she listened, actually listened when he did, and she didn't pry or hover as much as the others. They tend to beat around the bush when wanting to know about what was going on with him. Unlike Y/N who would take her time to make sure he felt comfortable and if, he wasn't, she would change the topic and act normal.

Y/N was a calming presence that allowed him to just be. She brought out another side of him that he thought he could never be.

That's why when he felt a change in the way he saw her dancing with a new guy than the one she was with earlier, it all made sense. She was his mate. He saw red as he practically flew to where they were. The fae males' hands that were roaming your bonds were ripped away from you and he dragged him away. Azriel pinned the man against the wall. People began to stare and talk in hushed whispers, appalled at the sight.

"Never touch my mate, again." He growled. He dug his fingers into the guy's neck.

"I-I didn't know." The man choked out.

"Well, now you do." He muttered, letting the man slump to the ground. He went over to where you were standing, eyes wide. His eyes softened while looking at you. He slowed as he got to you. "Can we talk?"

You nodded your head and began to walk toward an empty hall.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." He kept his voice low but soft. He was afraid, you would want to run away.

"You didn't." You stood there staring at him. You tried to figure him out, to no avail. His face was always stoic. "I- I thought you'd reject me and now I don't know what to do." You confessed.

"You knew?" He tried to recall if you had acted any differently. His shadows had felt the change in your demeanor and set out in whispers when you were rushing him out. He brushed it off, he should've looked more into it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel unwanted or rejected.

"Since yesterday morning." You confirmed. Your anxiety consumed you, you heard of the pain that came along with being rejected by your mate. Some have died from it. Little did you know Azriel was worrying about the same exact thing. Not thinking himself worthy enough of your affection. He allowed himself the pleasure of being in bed with you, assuming it was nothing more and he couldn't get hurt you or be hurt that way. It was a release from another pain you both had the displeasure of feeling.

"I want you to know it is an honor to have you as my mate." He took a step closer.

"Really? Honestly, I thought..." You shook your head. "Nevermind."

He looked confused but let it go, if you wanted to tell him you would. "Guess this means I have to go cook you something." You let out a laugh. He smiled an actual wide beautiful smile. Azriel grabbed your face and kissed you.

It was soon interrupted by a very drunk Mor who shouted, "Finally!"

Cassian was right behind her, "Mor! I forgot where the bathroom was, can y-" He paused looking between you and Azriel. "Oooh getting freaky in the hall, that's new. Hey Y/N if he isn't hitting it right, you know where to find me." He winked at you. Azriel gave him a murderous look, putting his arm in front of you. 'So he's gonna be one of those', you thought.

You couldn't wait till the second part of the mating process.

Tags: @wildchild2707​ ,@theworthlessqueen​ ,@ciciakai​ ,@rockinginneverland​

#azriel acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar imagines #acomaf #acowar #acosf #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #nesta x cassian #morrigan #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #amren #velaris #shadow singer x reader #shadowsinger #azriel x reader smut #feyre archeron #feysand #acotar x reader

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

#eobard thawne x reader #eobard thawne imagine #eobard thawne imagines #imagine #imagines #x reader #eobard thawne fanfiction #eobard thawne fanfic #eobard thawne fic #injustice 2 x reader #eobard thawne injustice 2 x reader #injustice 2 eobard thawne x reader #injustice 2 eobard thawne #injustice 2 imagines #injustice two x reader #reverse flash x reader #reverse flash imagine #reverse flash imagines #reverse flash fanfiction #reverse flash injustice 2 #reverse flash injustice 2 x reader #injustice 2 reverse flash x reader #reverse flash

[writing-wh0re]

Hi! I found prompts are open,

I was able to come with a lot, if you could do all i will greatly appreciate it, if just one or two i will still highly appreciate it dear 😊😊😘😘 it can be both fluff?smut for all prompts specified

“Are you hurt?”

“Did he do this?” 

“I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

Sebastian Stan

“You’re fucking mine.” 

“You just don’t get it, do you?” 

“Stop playing with me.” 

Bucky Barnes

“You think it’s funny to tease me?” 

“On the bed, now.” 

“You’ve got to be quiet.” 

Peter Parker

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests. 

Okay this has three different blurbs inside it - Sorry if it’s a lot to read, but I hope you enjoy it! 

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Word Count: 2,103k 

Warnings for all three blurbs: Smut 18+, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Intercourse, Both Male and Female Recieving Oral, Explicit Language, Slight Videotaping of Sex(?). 

*Please note! Peter Parker is 18+ in this blurb!* 

“You think it’s funny to tease me?” 

“On the bed, now.” 

“You’ve got to be quiet.” 

Peter Parker - is 18+ in this blurb. 

“You didn’t have to drop me.” I groan as Peter and I walk through the avengers compound. 

“That’s not on me, you knew you had to stick the landing.” 

“Stop bickering, you’re worse than Tony and Pepper.” Happy complains as I roll my eyes. 

Walking through the compound, I make it to my bedroom, immediately walking into the ensuite as I jump slightly, a voice startling me.  

“Room for one more?” A smirk floods my face as I spin, facing Peter. 

“Always.” 

I turn the shower on, the warm water flowing through the pipes as I unzip my suit, Peter taking off his as my eyes wander up and down his body. Peter walks up to me, his hand cupping my face as our lips brush against each other. “You’re so gorgeous.” I smile as our lips lock, moving in perfect sync as he walks me backwards into the shower, not breaking our kiss. I moan against his mouth as the warm water flows down my back. I run my hands down Peter’s bare chest as I gasp my hand brushing against his hard dick. 

Peter chuckles against my lips as I take his cock in my hand, pumping my hand up and down as he cages me between him and the cold shower wall. I continue to play with him as he moans into my mouth. I abruptly stop earning a groan as I duck out of his embrace, starting to lather my body in soap as Peter tuts, tongue in cheek. I feel his hand grip my ass tight, his breath fanning against my neck. 

“You think it’s funny to tease me?” I shrug as I wash my body, Peter shaking his head as he watches the bubbles run off my skin. 

“On the bed, now.” 

Without hesitation I follow his demand, a trail of wet footprints behind me as I fall onto my bed, my comforter beginning to soak from the water as Peter shuts the water off slowly walking into the room as he smirks. 

“Such a good girl.” I whimper, rubbing my thighs together as Peter gets on top of me, parting my thighs to lean between them, kissing his way up my body as he sucks on my nipple a gasp filling the air as he smirks, swapping to the other side was I run my fingers through his hair. I pull him up to me, kissing him as he breaks away, placing one leg against his chest, keeping the other hooked around his waist as he slides into me. 

“Fuck.” I hiss as he stretches me. He moves his hips as our skin slaps together Peter’s gasps and low soft moans falling from his parted lips as my moans flood the room. 

I arch my back as he keeps his pace, moving both my legs to be against his chest to get deeper inside of me. 

“Peter.” I cry out as he covers my mouth. 

“You’ve got to be quiet.” 

I meekly nod as I move my hips up to meet Peter’s thrusts as I moan against his hand. 

“Just like that.” 

Peter removes his hand as he rubs my clit, my walls tightening around him as he hisses, looking down at where our bodies meet, watching himself slide in and out. 

“I’m going to cum.” 

“Oh, me too.” 

My body twitches, flooding with pleasure as Peter drops my legs to his hips, speeding up his thrusts as the sensitivity shocks through my body. I watch as Peter throws his head back, moaning loud as he cums inside me. Both of us panting as he falls beside me, pulling me to his side as I smile. 

“Maybe I should tease you more often.” Peter chuckles as he kisses the side of my bed, keeping me wrapped in his arms. 

 ---

“You’re fucking mine.” 

“You just don’t get it, do you?” 

“Stop playing with me.” 

Bucky Barnes

I sway my hips to the music, dancing amongst a few of the avengers and a few random people as the music flows through my body. Nat and I sing the lyrics to each other, our bodies bumping together as I feel hands on my hips, the person's body heat mixing with mine as I turn and look back, a smirk covering my face. 

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble.” 

“I’ve fought Buck before, plus I know you enjoy teasing him.” I roll my eyes at Steve’s words as Nat gives me a questioning look as I smirk. Our bodies move together as I hear him chuckle behind me.      

“We have his attention.” My eyes wander around the crowd, landing on him. His jaw tense and knuckles white around the glass he holds. He empties the glass, making his way through the bodies. I feel Steve’s hands leave my hips, his body disappearing from mine. 

Bucky spins my body into his roughly, his mouth brushing against my ear. 

“You just don’t get it, do you?” My breath hitches as he spanks my ass. 

“It was Steve’s idea.”

Bucky chuckles. “Follow me.” 

I follow behind him, making our way through the bodies as Bucky presses the button for the elevator. Once inside, Bucky stops it, pushing me against the wall. 

“You’re fucking mine.” 

Our lips attach, fighting against one another. 

“Friday, cut the cam-” 

“Keep the camera’s on Friday.” Bucky contradicts as I feel heat hit my cheeks. I kiss his neck as I start to unbutton his shirt, kissing down his body as I rest on my knees. I unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning his pants as his dick springs free. 

I instantly attach my mouth to the head of his cock, swirling my tongue around as a low breath falls from his lips. His eyes fixate on my mouth as I bob my head up and down, I add my hand to the end of my lips stroking what I can’t fit as I continue to swirl my tongue around the sides of his cock. I take him out of my mouth, licking from the base to the tip as Bucky sucks in a deep breath. 

“Stop playing with me.” I giggle softly, licking my lips to take him into my mouth again as he pulls my hair, my mouth falling open wide as he slowly thrusts in and out. My eyes water slightly as a gag falls around him. Bucky stops his thrusts as he pulls me up, lips locking with mine as I moan against his mouth. 

Bucky’s hands pull my dress up around my hips as he slides my panties to the side, I hook one leg around his hip as he picks me up, placing me against the wall a little tighter as he slides into me. 

“Oh god.” 

Bucky picks up his thrusts, my back hitting against the wall as I tangle my fingers in his hair, our foreheads resting against each other. 

“You feel so good.” 

I tilt my head back, my lips parted as his lips move on my neck sucking on the soft skin leaving his mark as I tug on his hair.

“Who owns this pussy?” 

I whimper as he slows his thrusts awaiting my answer. 

“Y-you.” I gasp as he slowly picks his thrusts back up. 

“Who?”

“Bucky Barnes, fuck.” 

Bucky smirks at my response as he thrusts into me fast and deep as he covers my mouth, muffling my loud moans. 

“You’re close, aren’t you baby?” I nod against his hand as he chuckles. He moves his hand from my mouth, slipping it between where our bodies meet, rubbing my clit as I bite my lip. I pull him closer to me as my legs shake, electricity taking over my body as he kisses me. Bucky continues to thrust into me, my walls fluttering around him as the sensitivity causes my breath to hitch. 

“Holy fuck.” 

I feel him twitch as he buries his face in my neck groaning as he pulls out of me, shuffling his clothes back on as I fix myself. Before Bucky presses the elevator button, he pushes me against the wall kissing me with both hands on my face as I smile into the kiss. 

Bucky presses the elevator button allowing it to move again as it starts to go down, I raise my eyebrow not sure as to why it’s not going up to the rooms as the doors ‘ding’ open. 

“Of course, it's you two.” Tony scoffs as I feel heat hit my cheeks, Bucky pulling me behind him as the avengers chuckle at our situation. 

 ----

“Are you hurt?”

“Did he do this?” 

“I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

Sebastian Stan - Y/C/N - Your Character’s Name. (You’re both actors) 

“Okay, take two.” Anthony Russo says as I tilt my head from side to side to stretch the muscle. “In this take, Y/n and Sebastian, Bucky and Y/C/N are realising that Y/C/N is fighting on the wrong side and she joins Bucky on Steve’s side.” 

“Got it.” I smile as Sebastian nods in agreement. 

“Action!” Joe Russo yells Sebastian puts me against the wall as I grunt. 

“Why are you fighting for him?” 

“You act like I had a choice!” I scream as I shove Sebastian backwards, I run past him as he grabs my waist slamming me down on the ‘ground’ as my back hits the foam mattress. 

“Did he do this? Did he fill your head with lies?” I wiggle under his body as he holds my shoulders, attempting to keep me still. 

“Tony didn’t do anything. Steve told me you didn’t want me.” I spit as Sebastian lets me go. 

“Cut!” The russo’s yell as Sebastian helps me up. “Okay, we will go for lunch and get back to this after, it's great so far.” Joe compliments. 

“Are you hurt?” I shake my head as Seb sighs in relief. “I slammed you pretty hard onto that mattress.” he chuckles. 

“I know, but it’s all good, nothing I'm not used to.” I smile as Seb kisses my head. 

“Follow me, I want something to eat.” I grab a hold of Seb’s awaiting hand as we walk to his dressing room, I raise my eyebrow a smirk flooding my face as I chuckle. 

“You’re going to eat me?” 

Sebastian just nods as he closes the dressing room door. 

“Strip.” he demands as I smile, slowly stripping off my clothing as Sebastian takes off his. “No panties? Baby girl, you’re making this too easy for daddy.” I bite my lip as Seb picks me up, placing me on the make up table. He drops to his knees in front of my dripping core as he looks up at me chuckling. “Needy little thing, already dripping for me.” I meekly nod as he kisses my mound. 

“Please.” I beg as he drags his tongue from my opening to my clit, sucking on my sensitive bud as I run my fingers through his hair. “Fuck.” I tug on his hair as he wraps his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer against his mouth as he continues to lick. 

“Stay quiet baby.” I bite my lip to muffle my moans as my legs lightly twitch, Seb moaning against me as I lock eyes with him. “I’m close.” I whisper as he stops, kissing back up my body as he shuffles his boxer briefs down. 

I wrap my legs around his waist to help guide him inside me as we moan. “God you’re big.” 

“So fucking tight.” I wrap my arms around his neck holding him closer as he thrusts into me, our body’s working together, my boobs brushing against his toned chest. 

“I’m fucking crazy about you.” I smile, kissing Sebastian as my stomach fills with butterflies, my walls contracting around his hard cock. 

“I’m crazy about you.” I kiss and bite his neck, moving my hips to meet his thrusts as he brushes against my g spot. “I’m close.” I whimper as he sucks my sweet spot, my legs starting to tremble as he continues to thrust into me deep and hard. 

“Come for me baby.” 

A whimper falls from my parted lips as my legs tremble, electricity shooting through my body as I cum around his cock earning a grunt from Sebastian as he cums inside me. 

“Lunch on set!” A voice hollars as a knock lands on the door. 

Our chests rise and fall as we both get dressed. 

“Guess it’s my turn to eat something.” I laugh, winking at Sebastian as I walk out of his dressing room.

#writing-wh0re-requests #marvel request #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x Fem!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fic #marvel rec #marvel smut

[miraculous-or-horrendous]

I decided to share the Zoe and Y/n comparison I wrote awhile ago

Gentle reminder that I usually don't hate the character, I hate the writing

This is my opinion, and it's ok if you like Zoe

That being said, this is why Zoe is someone's shitty self insert:

To really get into the spirit of Y/N, I read a bunch of really bad MLB fanfictions. From x readers to self inserts. This will be discussing MLB! Y/N *specifically*

I debated on whether or not I wanted to use screenshots but

If I did that, I should give credit to the writer and...I'd rather not send hate or call out any specific author

Small note to any fanfiction writers out there, y'all are great :) don't take any of this personally. If anything, take this as a what NOT to do when adding in a self insert or something

Alrighty, my first point:

Comes from America and is related to one of the main characters

In my scavenge through bad (and good) fanfictions, I found that Y/N (usually) comes from America. (Some fics are more inclusive and don't specify where the reader comes from, but a lot of them say America). This point isn't bad necessarily, I just find it hilarious that Zoe also comes from America (New York to be specific). Zoe's story is so similar to Y/N's, it's almost unbelievable.

Another thing I noticed is that a lot of fanfictions make Y/N related to one of the main characters even though it makes no sense/ruins the character*

*For anyone wondering about that last part, home life can change how you may act. For characters like Mari or Adrien, being an only child helps highlight certain parts of their characters. Mari being the spoiled only child who gets all of the family love, while Adrien was lonely in his own home. Introducing siblings screws with that.

Y/n is usually written to be one of the main character's siblings simply to give the story an excuse to immediately give her relationships with the main characters.

Marinette and Chloe are the most common victims of this.

Y/N is only Marinette's sibling to force her into the lovesquare at all times.

And when she's not Marinette's sibling, she's Chloé's sibling. Because Y/N is Chloé's sister, naturally the characters are going to compare the two. They'll make comments about how nice Y/N is and how brave she is for putting Chloé in her place (because, ofc, the writers always make Y/N tell off Chloé the second she's introduced). Y/N ends up looking better by comparison. She gets more praise from the main characters who should realistically be weary of her/care less about her. (Being nicer than Chloé isn't an achievement in the slightest, and Mari tells Chloé off every sunday. Y/N isn't doing anything new here.)

I think you may know where I'm going with this, as all of that applies to Zoe. The show continuously compares the two, showing us that Zoe is so much better because look at how NICE she is.

She's just Marinette but without any character quirks

I'll continue with this point later, but for now, I feel like it's self explanatory.

In a lot of reader inserts, Y/N is just Marinette.

Most of the fanfictions I found follow every single MLB episode without changing a thing. They just kind of...squish the reader in there. Y/N even ends up stealing some of Marinette's lines for some reason...???

(an example: In a miraculous!reader fanfic, Y/N said "The catsuit will do, thanks." In response to Chats flirting in Stormy Weather. That's just what LB said in that episode. They didn't change anything).

This results in Y/N just being a carbon copy of Marinette.

But! Because this is perfect y/n we're talking about, they take anything interesting about Mari's character and get rid of it. Y/n isn't clumsy, she doesn't stutter (unless it makes her look cuter), and for some reason, the universe always bends over backwards to go her way. 

Zoe is like this as well.

If you were asked to describe Zoe's character, what would you say?

Zoe is nice...uh...kind?..did I mention she's nice? OH, and her flaw is that she's insecure sometimes. 

That's just Marinette, but extremely watered down. Heck, that's all of the girl characters but watered down.

Our main girl cast consists of a tomboy, a naive sweetheart, a shy and timid goth, a passionate yet fearful plant enthusiast, a sassy and intelligent reporter, and a clumsy fashion designer.

All of them are nice, and some of them get insecure at times, but they're not all the same. They all have a trait that is over exaggerated to help them stand out. Every character should have that so they don't end up being a generic nice person.

Even Emmet from the Lego Movie did this. The writers over exaggerated how generic and basic he was to give him some character.

I remember reading a fanfiction where Alya of all people said that Y/N's hero alter ego may be better than Ladybug after her first debut.

Zoe doesn't have any traits like this though, she's just insecure and rich. They tried to do something with her being an actor, but it all feels underdeveloped or just stapled onto her in hopes it'd fix her character.

Gets a miraculous and everyone praises them for it

I was absolutely flabbergasted when I read it, because that was extremely out of character.

This happens a lot.

The reader gets praised after just one mission. She upstages our favorite catbug duo and wins everyone's hearts with a snap of her finger.

And Vesperia? She does exactly that.

Queen banana was just full of the characters talking about how amazing Vesperia is.

I get they were trying to make Queen Banana jealous for the plan, but some of the Zoe ass kissing was genuine. The characters immediately put her on this pedestal and praise her just because she's nicer than Chloé. That doesn't deserve praise, almost all of the characters are nicer than Chloé (the only ones who aren't are the villains: Lila, Gabriel, etc.)

The bad fanfictions I read were easier to stomach than the obvious attempt at making the viewers favor Zoe. It was so forced, it hurt.

And finally, my last point:

Their backstory is used for sympathy points rather than character development

Deku is a good example of this. He didn't cry to someone about how sad his life was and then suddenly become a bad bitch. You get to see his growth as he overcomes his problems. He trains on his own time, he makes notes, he doesn't complain when he loses, he learns from it. He develops.

Here's the thing: if a character is struggling with something internally, they need to overcome it themselves. 

They can get some help from others, but the character is never going to get over their internal struggles if they don't actively do something to better themselves.

But of course, Y/n spits on that. Her mental health and character development heavily revolves around how much validation she gets from others. She's usually broken and lost ™ until she gets a love interest who magically fixes it. If not that, she has small spurts where she improves until the author decides they need another overly dramatic scene.

Zoe pretty much does this. 

I actually like her backstory honestly. Is it underdeveloped? Definitely, but it's not a bad concept. I can relate to the idea of "acting" to please others.

This could've made Zoe question herself.

Make her ask: who is she? What is her personality? Who does she want to be? It would have been much more interesting to see her try to develop her personality or think about what she wants to be for once.

Maybe show a trait of hers that's embarrassing, like maybe she uses light mode on discord. This could have added to why everyone hated her so much back in New York. It could have built character.

But no. Zoe just spills her backstory, apologizes, gets a bit of praise from Ladybug, and boom. She's had her full character arc. All of that involves someone validating her.

And by the end of it? Nothing has really changed. She's the same as before, except she kind of awkwardly stands next to Marinette's friend group.

In short, all Zoe does is show that all of the bad fanfictions I've ever read could be plausible within the miraculous universe, and a character like that should burn/j

Thank you for reading <3

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fandom #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #zoe salt #miraculous zoe #zoe miraculous #this is long im sorry-