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dixons-sunshine · 3 days

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I Never Lived For The Applause | Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader

Summary: Before the world quite literally ended, you were a famously known singer. However, your celebrity status didn't do you much good in the apocalypse, despite most people in your group giving you privileges that you didn't want. Thankfully, a certain redneck archer treated you like a normal person, unwillingly becoming the guy who caught your attention.

Genre: Angst, fluff.

Era: The quarry; the farm; the prison.

Warnings: Swearing, usual TWD warnings, suggestive themes.

Word count: 3.9k.

A/n: Okay but the former!celebrity!reader x Daryl was such a unique idea that an anon requested! I never would've thought about that on my own. I thought that this idea would be great combined with a few other requests, and this was born. There's a few time jumps and this is honestly not the best. I scrapped over 1500 words and this is all over the place, and it was supposed to be smut, and I don't really like this, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Before the apocalypse came to be, you were a famous singer and songwriter. You had multiple hit singles that made the charts and your concerts always sold out. It seemed like wherever you would turn, there would be someone there who would want an autograph or a picture. It seemed like you could never escape the spotlight.

Not even now, when the dead started rising and the world came to an end.

“Amy, I told you, I'm fine. I don't want your food. You need it more than I do.”

Amy shook her head defiantly, practically shoving the paper plate into your hands. “I insist. You're my idol, and I'll be damned if I let my idol go hungry when I have food I can give her.”

You sighed and reluctantly accepted the plate. “This is unnecessary. I already had my share, sweetheart. You don't have to give me yours when you also have to eat.”

“I'm fine. Rather me than you.”

Before you could protest, Andrea called Amy's name. Amy gave you an apologetic smile and bid you farewell, walking over to her sister and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed and turned around, heading over to the tent you shared with your daughter. You opened the flap and stepped inside, seeing your twelve year old daughter, Nicolette, busy sketching in her sketchbook.

She looked up when she heard you step inside, sending you a smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Nic,” you greeted her, sitting down on your cot opposite hers. “Why aren't you outside with the other kids?”

Nicolette shook her head, closing her sketchbook and sitting up in her cot. “Most of them treat me funny. They keep asking me if I can sing or if I can write songs, and if I got free stuff because you were famous. Only Carl and Sophia treat me like I'm a normal kid, but they're with their mom's right now.”

You sighed, guilt gnawing at you from the inside. Never once did you regret having your daughter, but sometimes you regretted having to raise her while you were in the spotlight. The paparazzi were relentless, and your daughter more often than not had to pay the price for that. It was unfair, and you wished that you could've just faded from the spotlight to raise your daughter in peace.

“I'm sorry, baby. If I knew back then what my fame could do to you, I never would have signed on with that record label. I wish I could take it back.”

Nicolette shook her head. She got up from her cot and sat down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her head.

“It's not your fault, Mom. I don't blame you. You shouldn't, either.”

You shook your head. “That's easier said than done,” you replied, before adopting a more lighthearted tone. “But let's not talk about that. I've got some more food for you if you're hungry.”

Nicolette smiled at you and nodded eagerly. “I'm starving. Thanks, Mom.”

You smiled at her. However, before you could respond, a ruckus could be heard outside your tent. Both yours and your daughter's heads snapped in the direction of the two voices, instantly going quiet to hear what was happening.

“M'tellin ya, man. S'a fuckin' waste of time. We should jus' cut our losses here and scram. Take a few guns and food fer the road.”

“Merle, fer the last fuckin' time, we can't leave righ' now. It's too dangerous. We should wait 'til the heat dies down 'fore we go.”

“Wha' m'hearin' s'tha' yer a pussy. Wha's the matter, Darylina? Scared the geeks will get ya? 'Cause yer too incompetent to handle 'em?”

“Fuck off, Merle! It ain't like tha'. I jus' dun' wanna risk our lives if we dun' need to.”

“Whatever, man. M'goin' back to the tent.”

The man who's name you had learnt to be Merle left, his retreating footsteps growing fainter until you couldn't hear them anymore. However, you could clearly see the silhouette of the other man still outside your tent. You could hear him quietly muttering to himself.

Turning to Nicolette, you gently placed the plate with the food—cooked squirrel with some beans—onto her lap and stood up. You turned to her and leaned down to place a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Eat up and get ready for bed. I'll be right back and then we'll continue reading that book.”

Nicolette nodded, and with that, you exited your tent. The man stood with his back to you, but a simple slight twitch of his head in your direction showed that he had heard you. His body stiffened visibly, and you frowned at that.

“Hey. You're Daryl, right?” you asked him, prompting the man to turn around.

However, he didn't meet your gaze, finding great interest in the ground below. He simply grunted his acknowledgement, a slight upwards nudge of his nose confirming your question.

“I'm Y/n. It's nice to officially meet you,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand to his for a handshake. Daryl made no move to shake it, however, making you awkwardly retract your hand. “I, uh, just wanted to say that you were right.”

“Wha'?” Daryl asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He hadn't meant for the question to slip from his lips, trying to just remain quiet until you got the message that he was in no mood to socialise, but he failed.

“That argument you had with your brother. You were right. It's way too dangerous to wander off on your own right now. Personally I feel like you shouldn't be wanting to go at all because it's safer with a group, but that's not my call to make. Just thought I'd let you know that your instincts are right. Don't listen to your brother.”

Daryl was confused by your niceness. He was even more confused by the fact that you agreed with him. He was so used to women taking Merle's side instead of his all the time, so this was something entirely new for him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied awkwardly, nervously chewing on his lower lip.

You smiled at him before nodding. “Okay, well, just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and to ask you not to argue in front of my tent again. I have a twelve year old in there who doesn't need to hear all of that.”

Daryl ducked his head, an embarrassed blush flushing over his face. “Sorry.”

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” you said with a smile. “And thanks for the squirrel. Thanks to you, my daughter doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight. Never thought we'd have to resort to eating squirrel, but it's not that bad. It's actually kinda delicious. It's way better than—” Realising that you were busy rambling, you shook your head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just, thank you.”

Daryl didn't know why, but he felt an unexplainable pull to you. Maybe it was the way you showed him kindness without even knowing him, or maybe it was the fact that you were the only one who seemed to actually appreciate the food he brought back from his hunts, even if it was squirrels. Despite their hunger, everyone else mostly refused to eat anything he brought back if it wasn't deer. Yet there you were, thanking him for bringing back something as mediocre as squirrel.

And it certainly didn't help that he found you absolutely radiant.

“S'nothin',” he finally responded. “M'jus' glad yer lil' girl can eat tonigh'.”

“You're the one who brought back the squirrels?”

At the sound of a small voice, both you and Daryl turned around to face your daughter. Nicolette walked up to your side and beamed brightly up at Daryl, catching him off guard. The other kids in the camp were terrified of him and wouldn't even glance in his direction, yet this kid was not only looking at him, but willingly talking to him.

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed, smiling fondly down at your daughter.

Nicolette looked up at Daryl, realisation dawning on her. “You're the man with the crossbow! And the vest with the angel wings! You're so cool, sir. Do you think I could maybe shoot your crossbow one time? It's okay if you say no, but can I maybe see how you shoot it so that when I get my own crossbow one day, I know how to use it? Or—”

Daryl's lips subconsciously twitched up into a smile. Her rambling was so similar to yours. Like mother, like daughter, he thought to himself as he looked between the two of you. There were over a dozen similarities between you and Nicolette. She looked just like you.

You placed a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, halting her rambling. You turned to Daryl, giving him a smile. “We should probably get ready for bed. Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Daryl!” Nicolette greeted him enthusiastically, following you into the tent.

“Night,” he whispered.

“Oh, and by the way, don't be a stranger. I'd love to see more of you.”

Daryl blushed and ducked his head. He hummed, not trusting his voice at that moment in time.

You smiled and finally entered the tent, zipping the tent closed behind you. He stood there for a couple of moments before turning and walking back to his own shared tent with Merle.

Daryl couldn't explain it, but for some reason, in that short conversation, he felt drawn to you. It was unnerving, but felt nice at the same time. And your daughter was downright an angel, your exact copy.

“Wha' were ya doin', sniffin' 'round tha' popstar?” Merle asked when Daryl entered the tent, catching him off guard. Daryl had assumed that Merle would've been passed out by now, high off of whatever drug he was using that night.

“Popstar? Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl questioned, plopping himself down on his cot.

“Tha' woman ya were talkin' to, she was a singer 'fore all this. Real famous, too. Used to see her on TV and in magazine's all the time.”

Daryl's mind swarmed with questions. You were a famous singer? How the hell did you end up there, with a bunch of nobodies? And why had you thanked him for bringing back something as simple as a squirrel? If you were famous, you had probably eaten banquets of the richest, most delicious food out there, yet you enjoyed squirrel? And to top it off, why would you willingly want to hang out with him of all people?

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god.”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Daryl slowly sat upright in the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing the worry written all over your face. You hurriedly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage around his side, careful not to add too much pressure and hurt him.

“M'fine, sunshine. Dun' have to worry 'bout me,” he replied, waving off your concern and gently grabbing your hand to push it away from the bandage.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head. “You're my friend, Daryl. Of course I'm going to worry about you. I care about you, and you expect me to not worry?” you asked, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek.

Friend. That word reminded Daryl of how you viewed him. It had been two months since your first interaction at the quarry and his affection and attraction to you had only grown stronger. However, it seemed to him like his feelings weren't reciprocated, so he settled on being your friend.

Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. You just didn't know it yet.

“Heard ya punched Andrea fer shootin' me. Any truth to those rumours?” Daryl asked, diverting the attention away from his now pounding heart as your fingers gently pushed his hair back.

You smiled sheepishly. “My hand slipped?” you tried, shrugging your shoulders.

Daryl smirked slightly and shook his head. “Sure. Whatever ya say, sunshine.”

You let out a sigh, reluctantly drawing your hand back from his hair. “She had it coming. We told her not to shoot and she didn't listen, trying to boost her own ego instead. She almost killed you, Daryl. That's not something she should be allowed to get away with, but Rick and Shane aren't gonna do anything, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Daryl smiled softly. “Not bad fer a popstar.”

You giggled. “Hey, I got into a couple of fights before my career took off. I know my stuff. I know how to shoot a gun, too, but that's a discussion for another day.”

Daryl chuckled and nodded. He shifted back against the headboard and gazed at you, simply admiring your beauty for a moment. It amazed him that a beautiful, kind, caring, smart woman like you would ever wanna be associated with the likes of him. You were perfect and he was, well, him. It didn't make sense, but he dared not to question it.

“Can I ask ya somethin' personal?” he blurted out before he could think about it.

You nodded at him. “Sure.”

“When ya talk 'bout yer career, it sounds like ya hated it. Why'd ya become a singer if ya hated it so much?”

You remained silent for a minute. Daryl feared that he had asked the wrong thing and was about to apologise, but you spoke up.

“I was nineteen when I signed with my first record label. I didn't want to be in the spotlight because singing was more of a hobby to me, but my parents forced me to. Growing up, there wasn't ever really any money around and my parents made it out like it was my fault. They made me feel like I owed them for everything they did for me, and they forced me to sign with that record label. My parents were my managers and all the money I earned for the songs I wrote and sang basically went to them. That went on for a couple of years until I met Nic's father. He was a bass player in a band I was collaborating with. I fell in love way too quickly, jumped into bed with him when he made an advancement and ended up pregnant. The guy didn't want kids and bolted, leaving me a single mom. My parents hated that and basically disowned me.”

“M'sorry to hear tha',” Daryl replied sympathetically. He didn't really know how to respond; he never knew that about you. You chose to keep your life before you had Nicolette private, and he respected that. He had his own demons he preferred to keep quiet.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, shaking your head. “He was an asshole. And I was better off without my parents. I managed to sign with a decent enough record label and the rest was history. I got a ton of backlash from haters for being a single mom. There were even rumours that I had cheated and that's why the guy left me, but that wasn't true. But none of that matters anymore. My reputation doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is keeping my daughter safe and keeping the people I care about alive. People like you.”

“Ya shouldn't care 'bout me. S'a bad idea.”

“Well, bad idea or not, I care about you. And so does Nic.”

As if being summoned, Nicolette knocked on the door and hesitantly stepped inside. Daryl adjusted the covers over his body and sent her a tight-lipped smile. Nicolette gave him a small smile back but he could clearly tell it was strained. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

“Are you okay?” Nicolette asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make herself appear smaller.

“M'fine, kiddo. Dun' worry 'bout me,” he reassured her. “Hershel fixed me righ' up. I'll be outta here in no time.”

Nicolette looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “He's right. He'll be fine. Some antibiotics and he'll be up and at it in three days. You'll see.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “I'm glad you're not dead, Daryl.”

Daryl chuckled at the girls forwardness. “M'glad m'not dead, too.”

You smiled at the small interaction between Daryl and Nicolette, your heart swelling with fondness. You stood up from the bed and motioned for Nicolette to follow you.

“C'mon, baby. Let's leave Daryl to get some rest, okay?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe stay?” she asked timidly, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It's just... I wanna stay.”

You looked at Daryl, and he shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his nonchalance, Daryl's heart swelled with fondness. This little girl, who owed him nothing, wanted to stay with him. He couldn't believe it.

“Okay, you can stay for a while. I'll be back later, okay?” you relented.

She nodded and sat down on the chair. You gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze before heading out, sparing one last look at the two. Nicolette was starting to retell some of the events of what her and Carl had gotten up to that day, and Daryl hummed in acknowledgement before looking up and locking eyes with you.

With one last parting smile, you headed out and made your way back to the tents. On your way there, a startling realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, one that would change the way you saw Daryl forever. Despite the fact that he could be snappy at times, and that he was known for being grumpy, he treated you with respect. He didn't care about who you were before the end of the world. He didn't care about your mistakes, about if you were famous or not. That didn't matter to him. He only saw you, the person behind the old tabloids, and he had become close with your daughter. He even took the time out of his day to teach her how to use his crossbow, even if she was a slow learner. And in that moment, you realised something:

You had feelings for him.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Y'know, m'glad Nic didn't have to meet her father. She's better off.”

You turned your head to Daryl, a look of confusion spreading across your features. “I agree with you, but why do you say that? You didn't know the man.”

Daryl shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. “Ya said back at Hershel's tha' he never wanted kids. If he had stuck 'round, god knows wha' he would've done to her.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, turning your attention back to the darkness ahead of you. “She is better off.”

The night was relatively quiet, save for the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the prison's fences. Daryl was on watch that night in the guard tower, and you had taken the initiative to join the archer that night. Everyone else had retreated into the prison for the night, leaving only you and Daryl awake.

“So are we gon' tell Nic 'bout us or not?” Daryl broke the silence, taking the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out next to him. “S'been over a month now. She deserves to know.”

Unbidden, flashes of that night a month ago arose in your mind. The feeling of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body and the way he felt pressed against you. The feeling of your bodies becoming one was one that you wouldn't forget anytime soon, but the one memory you'd hold with you forever was the confession from the man next to you. After the heated, pleasurable moment you'd spent together, feelings were revealed, and you and the archer had unofficially started your relationship. You had both agreed to keep it a secret, but Nicolette was starting to get suspicious about the two of you.

“I'm okay with telling her tomorrow. She deserves to finally have confirmation on her suspicions,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She already sees you as her dad, anyways.”

Daryl couldn't argue with that. Flashes of his own arose in his mind. A couple of days ago, he had returned from a run, battered and bruised. He could barely walk and both you and Nicolette were distraught. However, after he was patched up and resting in his cell and you were up in the guard tower for your shift, Nicolette had come to him in tears. He had hugged her tightly to his chest, acutely aware that she was transported back to that day on the farm when he had been shot. That night was the night Nicolette had confirmed that she saw Daryl as a father figure.

“Please don't leave. My mom needs you. I need you. We both need you in our lives. Please, Daryl.”

In that moment, even though she didn't know yet that you and Daryl were together, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without either of you. You both were his entire world. Nicolette was his little girl. You were his partner, and there was no way he was letting either of you go.

“Dun' worry, Nic. I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise ya tha'.”

Shaken from his thoughts by your lips on his exposed shoulder, he turned his head to you, coming face to face with a mischievous smirk. He instantly knew what that smirk meant, and he helped you climb onto his lap.

“But,” you began, pulling his attention back to your previous discussion. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and you.”

Daryl smirked and attached his lips to yours. You may have been a popstar before the apocalypse, a celebrity living in a mansion, but in that moment, you were simply you. The woman Daryl cared for deeply, the woman Daryl was never gonna let go of.

Because in that moment, you were nothing but his.

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joelmillers-whore · 6 months

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wip wednesday

tagged by the lovely @gracieheartspedro <3

here is a small snippet from a song for fractured hearts

*coughs in so much angst* this won't be out for some time but i couldn't help myself

np tags: @hellishjoel @thetriumphantpanda @janaispunk @jenispunk @kiwisbell

#wip wednesday #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #kry writes sometimes

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not-krys · 7 months

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Fictober 2023: The Traveling Adventures of Mr. Fox and Miss Mouse Part 2

Prompt #4: Do You Even Know What This Means?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Rating: Teen

Characters: Mitsuhide Akechi, 'Miss Mouse' (Fem!Reader Insert using a moniker)

Summary: Detective Mitsuhide is given the task of returning a runaway bride to her husband back East. Miss Mouse, as she's calling herself, refuses to return.

Notes: 1880s America / Historical Travel AU, Fem Reader Insert, so feminine terms will be used to refer to the reader (lady, miss, missy, girl, wife, etc), Mitsuhide also being a manipulative lil shit but what else is new?

Had brainworms for this AU back in February of this year and have now decided to expand upon it for this year's Fictober entry. For the first part of the story, check this link!

Also up on ao3!

And thanks to @bluetri4ngles and @drachonia for beta reading this for me! And I know @lorei-writes was excited about the first part, so here's a part 2, love!

WC: 2487

—------

He had only closed his eyes for a minute. Mitsuhide had sworn it had only been a minute, but it seemed a minute too long for his liking. Maybe it was the swaying of the train, maybe it was his own fatigue catching up to him–he didn't know what would have caused him to be so unaware–but in the next moment, the sun had dipped behind the flying tree line, the lands out the window seemingly flatter and grassier than when he had departed. He was still sitting in the booth he had sat at with the lady in the purple dress, the girl he was supposed to be bringing back home, but there was no sign of his companion, not even a lingering scent of the lavender she had in her hat.

Well, this wasn't good.

She did have the good grace to cover his food with a napkin (untouched), and a little note thanking him again for the help earlier and letting him know that she was retiring to her cabin for the evening. Even had the audacity to sign it as Miss Mouse with a cute doodle of a mouse in a bustle dress next to her signature. Mitsuhide sighed.

He thought of returning to his own car for the evening, following suit of the lady, but he was stopped by a passing steward who handed him a note. A telegram, rather, with a hushed message.

"201." he said simply, his face strangely stiff, even for a railroad steward.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow as the man walked away, pushing up his glasses, seemingly. With a defeated shrug, Mitsuhide looked over the telegram, his white brow now furrowing.

"Husband growing impatient. Bring girl home. Threats of bankruptcy and setting building on fire. Doing best to stall. Please hurry. KB."

"Kyubei," Mitsuhide crumpled the paper in his hand, looking back out at the orange and purple tinged scenery.

"Doing things thousands of miles away is easier said than done, my friend." Mitsuhide closed his eyes and stood up, going back to his cabin to think. He was in for a long ride and Miss Mouse would surely hate him when she learned of his true intentions. A sad thought, to be sure, but there was a reason mice and foxes weren't the best of friends, after all.

-----

Miss Mouse, rather you, had retired for the evening after leaving your savior, Mr. Fox, behind in the dining car. As much as you had enjoyed his company and that he had saved you from some rough gentlemen that seemed hell-bent on harassing you, you couldn't stay with the dashing Mr. Fox.

Or rather, Mr. Akechi, you thought with a sigh, remembering the sight of his bellflower-stitched holster.

Yes, even word of the white-haired detective had reached your noble circles. A tall man with a deep voice and a grin that was just asking for trouble. You almost couldn't believe that Mr. Akechi, the famous detective, had boarded on a train, the very same train that you were on.

Being rescued by him certainly did a number on your heart, but the reality of the situation soon sank in after you'd had a minute to think.

Mr. Akechi likely wasn't here for a leisurely train ride through the countryside. In all likelihood, he was probably paid to bring you back home, back to that disgusting pig of a man that had swindled you out of your family and their money. You felt your blood boiling at the thought of that man's hands touching yours, and your stomach churning as he smiled a lecherous grin at you.

No, it wouldn't do you any good to waste another thought on the man. You needed to think of a plan, to find some way to escape a detective like Mr. Akechi. It was your only hope if you wanted to keep your freedom.

You sat in the comfy chair in your room, contemplating what to do next. A planned stop was coming within a day or so, you thought. You could slip into the crowd and sneak aboard another train. Although the possibility of getting caught made your heart stutter and cower out in the end.

You could also sneak into the crowd and wait for the train to leave, then just explain to the staff that you had simply missed your train and would wait for the next one. A simple enough excuse and a believable one. You could get lost in the town nearby, say you lost track of the time, and just wait in town for the next available train to take you to California. Mr. Oda would understand, wouldn't he? People get lost traveling by trains all the time, surely?

Although, it would look suspicious if you took your trunk with you into the rail station as if you meant to stay longer and not get back on the train. Would you be willing to risk leaving your belongings to elude the detective? You had heard stories of people losing their way with no belongings and dying out in the great unknown.

Maybe, you thought, perhaps you could buy more supplies in the rail town without it looking suspicious and just leave your original belongings on purpose? People lost luggage all the time anyways, right?

You sighed. Who knew starting your new life in the West was going to require this much of a daring escapade to elude both your suitor and a suave detective?

No, he wasn't that suave. He was here (possibly) to whisk you back home! That took down his handsomeness some. No amount of charm he could exude would persuade you into going back. Not ever.

You looked over at your hat, little lavender springs already starting to wilt. You frowned and stood up, taking the hat into your hands and pulled the sprigs out, setting them aside to press later.

You sat the hat back onto the table and prepared for bed, stripping the purple overdress and petticoats from your body, breathing in deeply.

Rocked by the swaying of the train, you laid in the provided bed, pulling the feathered blanket over your head, hoping to come up with a more solid plan in the morning, and a stronger hope of not seeing a certain white-haired Mr. Fox in the dining car again. Your rescuer could easily transform into your kidnapper and you sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. His kindness and wit had warmed you, but warmth had a habit of dissipating if there was a stiff breeze present.

You closed your eyes, hoping against hope that Mr. Fox was just here for a leisurely train ride and nothing more.

-------

The early morning sun and rumbling stomachs roused the passengers of the westward bound train. Mitsuhide brushed his hair back as he replaced his hat, noting the lessened dark circles around his eyes. Who knew that following a girl across the country would do wonders for his sleep habits?

With a yawn while buttoning up his waistcoat, he headed back to the dining car with a flourish of his jacket, finding you once again, enjoying a light breakfast and, thankfully, no unscrupulous gentlemen around to ruin your meal time.

Well, save for one unscrupulous gentleman, he thought sadly.

You jumped a little as your sudden guest seated himself, golden eyes training on you like a fox that had trapped a little mouse under his paw.

"Good morning, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said as he sat across from you, his dangerous grin lighting his face.

"G-good morning, Mr. Fox." you returned, cutting up your eggs with a frown, "I see you are in better spirits than yesterday. Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did, thank you for asking." he said a touch thinly, remembering the state she had left him in yesterday. "I'm heartbroken, however."

"Heartbroken?"

"You left your dear husband to fend for himself in the cold dining car all night. And after such a gallant rescue yesterday, too."

You froze.

"I never said you were my husband. That was you fibbing to make those other gentlem-"

"Yet rumors are already spreading that we are arguing and you sent me here in your anger."

"…Beg your pardon?"

"You left me in the dining car when you were angry with me. The staff and a few married couples looked on in pity. It was quite embarrassing."

"Wait, you really did sleep here all night?" You asked, worriedly.

"Feel my hands, dear, and see how cold they are."

You stared at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. You then looked down at his hands, frowning.

"You're wearing gloves."

"Yes, I am. So are you. Quite a mind for detail, Miss."

"Your hands wouldn't be cold if you were wearing gloves." You said, "plus, the passenger cars are all heated through steam. You wouldn't be cold at all."

Mitsuhide smirked.

"Then, perhaps, you could rub my back? The chairs here are quite comfortable for sitting in, but sleeping in them certainly isn't the best idea."

You frowned deeper.

"Teasing, Mouse." he said, "I was only teasing you. I went back to my cabin and slept quite deeply."

You returned to your eggs with a pout.

"Well, Mr. Fox, some of us don't need or appreciate being riled up like that first thing in the morning."

"I was being serious about the rumors, however."

"You and I are not married."

"No, but I did put on such a spectacular show yesterday, so much so that seeing us apart has made others curious."

"Then quell those rumors." You said firmly.

His sly smile made you pause.

"I'm afraid It would be in your best interest if I didn't."

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"A young, unmarried woman traveling alone is just asking for trouble," Mitsuhide explained. "A married woman traveling with her husband at least has him around to protect her."

"And you're offering to be my husband for my protection?"

"Precisely."

"Why? Why do you want to protect me so badly?"

Mitsuhide paused, seeming caught for a brief moment. His placid look soon returned, however.

"It's in my nature to protect young ladies in distress such as yourself."

You huffed. So, this was how it was going to be?

"I was doing fine."

"Yesterday proved otherwise."

"I was going to ask for help from the steward and have them confined until we get to the next stop. That is, until you intervened."

"And if they escape their confinement after the train reaches the next stop, what then? They could kidnap and have their way with you, whatever their perverted minds were thinking of doing to you once you were alone."

"I-"

You paused, now the one trapped in the logic trap. You had only wanted to escape that horrible match and now… You were alone against a fox dead set on trapping you, the fox not even being the worst of the dangers in front of you, you were beginning to realize.

"Though your bravery in striking out on your own was admirable, you must also understand the world we're in, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said. "A woman without a man to support her won't last very long, especially out here in the unknown."

He rested his chin in his palm.

"What I'm offering is protection, so that what happened yesterday won't happen again. Better yet, a worse outcome won't come to pass so long as I'm here."

You looked at him, studying him.

"And if I refuse your protection? If I escape at the next station and flee without you by carriage? By stagecoach? Even by a horse?"

"Trouble much worse than yesterday will find you." Mitsuhide frowned, not the least bit thrilled at the idea of physically chasing you across the vast countryside aside from the comfort of the train. "Even fleeing by your own two legs would leave you at the mercy of the elements along with the evil men trying to catch your tail."

You looked away, not hungry anymore.

"Do you know what all this means, Mouse?"

"I know what it means." You bit back. "And I hate that you're right."

"Hate it and me as much as you want, Miss Mouse. So long as you agree to lie about us being married. It's for your protection, after all."

You sighed in defeat.

"I have half a mind to make you sleep in the dining car again, Mr. Fox."

Mitsuhide chuckled, pushing your plate back towards you.

"So long as you keep being my wife, Miss Mouse. I'll even sleep on the roof if you tell me to."

Much as you didn’t like him in this moment, you still had your standards.

"No, don't sleep on the roof, please. However, as your wife," you shoved the plate towards him this time, "I want you to eat."

Mitsuhide blinked in surprise.

"You didn't finish your dinner yesterday because you were helping me. The steward told me when I arrived here this morning."

"And I remember telling you I lost my sense of taste ages ago."

"Your belly doesn't care about your lack of taste." You pointed your fork at him. "Besides, I can't have my ‘husband’ collapsing from hunger if he's supposed to be protecting me from all the nasty villains that are coming after me. It's the least I can do as your ‘wife’. That’s what you wanted, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled after a moment.

"You're kinder than I deserve, little wife."

"I'm not your wife.” you repeated. “I pity the poor waif that takes your hand someday."

"You and me both." He never pictured himself getting married, however nice a thought it was. He couldn't put someone through his life guilt-free, wouldn’t dream of putting someone through his life, not even his worst of enemies.

Instead, he took his pleasure in eating off your plate, ignoring your pointed scowl as he snatched your fork when your back was turned to order more food. The small domestic atmosphere, though with many more strings running underneath it like the tracks beneath them, it made him smile genuinely inwardly, having the taste of a humble life he would never know otherwise, he felt.

He had been surprised that you remembered him not eating the previous evening and had thought to remedy that, despite knowing who he was, evidently, based on the change in demeanor this morning. You truly were too kind to him, at least suspecting his true intentions and yet still thinking after him enough to remind him to eat.

His true heartbreak would come when he had to take her back home, he thought with a sigh, forced to feed this kind little mouse to a much more despicable creature than him, the thought causing more displeasure and annoyance than it should have.

What was this little mouse doing to him, causing such troublesome thoughts in him?

#fictober #fictober23 #krys's adventure's in fanfiction #ikemen sengoku #mitsuhide akechi #I know that sequels and continuations technically don't count towards fictober #but this was the best I could do for this prompt #I think most new readers could get the basic gist of it #but oh well #whatever gets you writing I say #and hey #it's Mitsuhide's bday #as the resident rule-breaker #he would approve #lol

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krynutsreal · 1 year

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kiyotaka ai bot moment

me when I'm ill

#he talked to me about how he wanted to write a paper on the paradox of the unknown bc chihiro and him talked about it #he also told me that hes afraid of the ocean #ummm yea that's it hes just interesting to interact with #kry k(art)#kiyotaka ishimaru

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krys-loves-otome · 2 years

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Ikevamp Suitors Help You Get Dressed

So! A while ago, I reblogged this gif set from a Russian TV mini series about Anna Karenina, depicting I'm assuming the leading lady and (likely, I don't know the exact details) her lover, Alexei Vronsky, helping her to get dressed. It's a detail not often depicted in media, a husband or lover helping their loved one get dressed, and that gif set, even though I know nothing about the show or about Anna Karenina, just thought it was incredibly sexy of seeing this kind of intimacy shown. It stuck in my head for a bit until I finally decided to apply the idea to the suitors.

And I did try to stay in the realm of a gender-neutral reader (as clothing does not have a gender, masculine-leaning or non-binary friends can wear corsets and skirts too if they want), but there are likely things that slip past my radar and I'm sorry if I didn't catch them before posting.

Also, a mention of a minor spoiler for Sebastian's entry where I mention he has a sister. She's mentioned in his bday stories, but not in a great amount of detail (as of yet, according to spoilers I've seen. She'll be mentioned more when his route comes out) so there's that.

And many thanks to @scummy-writes, @tsundere-mitsuhide, @art-of-love-and-war, and @/rotted_gourd on twitter for beta-ing for me, esp with such short notice. And I know that @lorei-writes wanted to be notified when this went live, so, here ya go!

My Fanfic Masterlist!

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Napoleon

If you manage to wake him at a decent time (preferably before noon), Napoleon will gladly help you lace into your corset, for a small fee of a good morning kiss. It doesn't take him long to pull on your strings and he can get them sitting right in minutes. He finishes off the tying with a little bow and a second morning kiss because he thinks you look cuter that way, especially the freshly kissed part.

Mozart

Mozart prefers to be quick and efficient most days, so when he helps you dress, he's likely the fastest of the suitors. Though there are times he pulls you a little tighter than he usually does, you're sure to hear your little gasp as the garment is pulled taut. He will loosen it and apologize with a small kiss if you complain though. When he ties you off, he prefers the knot (multiple ones at that) not only for their swift nature, but it's also harder to undo, so some hooligan pulling on your skirts will have a harder time undressing you and sabotaging your dignity.

Leonardo

As many an event can attest, Leonardo prefers to help you 'out' of the corset rather than into it, but he takes pleasure in lacing his cara up most mornings. With a cigarillo between his lips, he goes down your back pulling and settling the laces so they lay flat, giving you the most beautiful figure in the process, you'd think you had stepped out of a painting. He ties you off with a little bow.

Arthur

Another that muchly prefers helping you out of your corset rather than into it, Arthur still finds his pleasures with helping you lace up in the morning. He can never resist running his hands down your sides, the silk gliding across his fingers, a kiss and a whispered tease into your shoulder, maybe an ear nibble if he's feeling especially frisky. He ties you a loose bow, a promise for the two of you later on in the day to continue what that whispered tease suggested.

Vincent

Vincent is excited when you asked him for help lacing up your corset. He sits on his stool partially dressed in only his brown slacks, more eager to help you dress than to fully dress himself. He pulls on the laces gently but firmly, making sure every line of ribbon was resting comfortably on you. He finishes you off with a simple knot, tucking the extra ribbon length in the gap next to your hip, giving your shoulder a light peck and a small compliment about how beautiful you look.

Theo

Another that prefers efficiency in the morning because Mr. Art Dealer Extraordinaire has things to do in the morning, wake up, Hondje! He's likely up before you, pulling your sleepy self out of bed. Before he fully dresses himself, he's pulling up your stockings, slipping your feet into shoes, and wrapping a silky corset around your middle. He'll chuckle quietly and poke your side if you dare to yawn as he's pulling, messing up his rhythm. All in good fun though as he thinks your sleepy face is adorable, especially after he kisses your pout away.

Isaac

Usually one that's good with his hands, you would think that Isaac would be a pro at lacing your ribbons down your back. But, dear reader, let's also not forget how easily flustered he can get, the pink on his cheeks as vibrant as his hair as he stares at your various curves and grooves, or when he feels the warmth of your skin beneath the silky layers. Still, he tries his best to hold everything together, taking his time to make sure the laces lay flat and even, tying you off with a knot. Nice bows are a little complex for him at present, but he'll keep trying until you can get the best bow you deserve.

Jean

Jean is honored when you asked for help lacing up your corset, thinking it something akin to a squire putting armor on their knight. Though he is a little concerned his love has to go out in armor and wasn't taking a weapon with them (sword might be too heavy, perhaps a good sized dagger could fit under their skirts? A weighted baton, perhaps? He could show them some self-defense tactics at the very least) he still tries his best to be your best squire, lacing up as best he can, tying you off with a knot (or multiple ones for the same reason as Mozart, for your protection.)

Dazai

"Oh, Toshiko-san? Do you need some help?" Dazai sees your trouble one morning, laces uneven and you can't reach to tighten them better. Well, he couldn't leave you alone in such a state, certainly not, so he offers his services with your corset. You thank him and the two of you make light conversation, like where you were going so dressed up, what your plans were for the day. It was a far more pleasant start to the day rather than being tangled in seemingly endless ribbons. The only downside was your mini heart-attack when he sat on your window sill when he left, falling backwards and gracefully grabbing and climbing to his next destination.

Shakespeare

He's had his fair share of helping others change clothes, so his experience in theatre is vital in helping his love dress in the morning. His hair loosely tied up, he helps pull up your socks and slip on your shoes in quick time. With your corset, he manages just as easily as his costumed actors, though with slight more difficulty as there are more layers and different materials to contend with here. At least at home, he can take his time lacing up his favorite star performer rather than dealing with a rushed presentation and abject misery of time robbed to satisfy an imaginary standard neither of you wanted to abide by. For his own ease, however, he ties the corset lace off with a bow, so later on his time would be better spent with you quickly being able to undress rather than fussing with being perfect for others.

Comte

Given his penchant to buy you entire wardrobes full of the clothes, it's not really surprising he would sneak in some back-lacing corsets, because his chérie deserves the full turn of the century dressing experience, if they so desire to, of course. When you ask him to help you put one on, he's delighted, hoping you would ask him at some point. He takes his time, making sure the laces were nice and even, tying you off in a simple knot and giving a neck kiss for good luck.

Sebastian

Growing up with a sister, he's had his fair share of helping them get dressed up if there was a fancy party going on. So, it was no surprise at how quick and efficient he is with helping you dress, as he is with all matters concerning the vampire household. He makes light conversation, telling you what he knew of the history of corsetry, and that he had some strong words for the perpetrators of extreme tight-lacing rumors and the horrible after-effects it's had on the garment's reputation in the later centuries. When he finishes lacing you up, you'll have the most stunning figure and be the most comfortable you've felt wearing fancy clothes. Sebas would be proud, bowing to show his thanks for your compliments.

Vlad

One that isn't that great at getting up in the morning, Vlad's more likely to send you to Charles to help you dress, but today his floricică was insistent. With a yawn, he sat up in bed, his deep red eyes still full of sleep. He moves to the edge, having you stand between his legs as he methodically moves down your back, straightening and pulling where needed. When he ties you off, he pulls you close and falls back onto the bed, refusing to release you despite the squirming. It was your punishment for waking him so early.

Faust

The other one that would sooner send you to Charles to help you dress, he fairs better than Vlad, standing up while putting on his glasses. He makes minor complaints about beauty standards being inherently foolish, especially when it makes dressing one's self overly complicated. Your bone structure and muscle to fat ratios were fine in his eyes, so he really saw no need for the corset and petticoats. He even briefly considered offering to use his scalpel on you, but humans don't heal as quickly for his liking as vampires do, if they did recover at all, and like he said, he likes your proportions where they were. The matter was left alone with a kiss and a promise of strong coffee.

Charles

The usual early riser that helps the other residents wake up, Charles is ecstatic with the idea of helping you get dressed in the morning. Sometimes a little too eager with the first few times tying you just a tad too tight. He'll immediately apologize and loosen the laces, giving your neck a little kiss to show he's sorry. He ties you off with a bow because he likes you to look cute.

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kryinthenight · 14 days

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Sin of Gluttony

Do you ever get a gnawing feeling that nothing will ever be enough? That you are so innately broken that you will constantly be left to the brink of dissatisfaction? Until the day you die. That no matter how much you scream no one will ever hear you? The point of unfulfillment will be so great that even the cells of your skin cry out in desperation.

Will nothing make them stop?

Is it greed?

Is it envy?

Is it misery?

Or is it love?

Or maybe even a lack of love within yourself?

This craving only brings misery and the feelings as if I will never have what I'm so desperately seeking. This desperation is only masked by the uncertainty of what is missing within me.

I am just a glutton who was lacking a reason. A pathetic street stray trying to mask the starvation I'm feeling. Trying to fill what no one could.

why were you enough for me?

Maybe I should scare her a little... For not telling me about what Shes been up to...

I begin to lean off the edge of the ledge and feel myself drift off the concrete behind me. Before my head left her lap, I felt an orchestra of strings pulling my body closer to her. Unwilling to let me fall.

"See?"

“You literally couldn't have known that. What if I didn't and you actually fell??”

"Then you would be doing a really bad job at saving me."

She punches my arm as I laugh. I've missed this. I've missed…

Shes still worried about me. Good I guess that's a good sign. She will be back home soon anyways. Then we will be back to normal...right?

"How did you know i was going to save you though?"

"I just trust you."

Why couldn't you be enough?

She's hanging out with him again. my replacement. She doesn't think he's better too, right?

They walk together everywhere. He follows her around everywhere. Like a pathetic little dog.

I stared at her from the building we usually meet at. She didn't come today. And I'm staring at reason number one.

It's just an act. So why is she smiling this much???? Did she ever laugh like that before? Why is she getting so close to him? Was she ever that happy? Was she ever that happy with me?

This whole situation is making me so-

Why weren't you enough?

The scene was slowly blurring in front of me. And I couldn't make out what was happening anymore. All I could hear in the daze was her footsteps trailing away as I felt the dizziness of the world around me.

When I awoke again. It was too late. The last scene played out as I begged for more.

All I could feel was the life draining from me. Someone had hurt me. I could feel the pain brefitly. But all I could stare at was the look on your face. That's how I knew what had happened. I'm still using you as my guide and to my surprise you showed me something real.

I could finally see you.

So tell me. Why can I see your face now…? Why only now can I see how you feel?

As I slipped I could feel the weight of my body cave in on myself. I was… falling. And without your strings to catch me. Was this my end?

I was left unsatisfied again

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hearteyesforjoel · 7 months

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IZZY!!! for the fic writing ask question thingy (I'm so good with words, ik) number two pls! 🫶

kryyyy, lovely!<3

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?:

i DEFINITELY write as i go lol. anytime i think of a good plot, i just scribble down the gist of it. from that point, i feel like it’s easier for me to section off certain areas of my fic to focus on, that way it’s easier to write and put together! :)

this makes so much sense, yet no sense at all lol

#kry<3 #ask away!#my writings

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perasperaadastrawriting · 2 years

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(from @flowerprose)

💬💬💬💖

He smiled at them in reassurance and then they left, leaving him alone. A long sigh escaped his lips at his eyes fell onto the sunset. He was alone. But it was okay. He had asked them to go, had not wanted to join them and yet they deserved fun as they were only shortly on earth before departing again. Something wet ran over his cheek. Confused, he lifted a hand to his face and gently wiped away the lone tear. Blush pink light of the sun reflected into it. It was such a beautiful thing and yet so delicate. Then more tears started to drop and silent sobs wrecked his body as he stared out of the window. He did not hear the door opening, did not hear the "I'll be gone in a minute again I just forgot my com". He only felt arms encircling him and the familiar smell of his brother Hayden.

excerpt from Where Stars are buried

(asked by @flowerprose)

#ask game #my wips #my writing #my friends #krys🐦

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traitorsinsalem · 2 years

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she dealt with asian family drama like no one else did and all the fanbase did was hate her

#succ speaks #i saw her at the bottom of a mianite character tierlist......everyone is entitled to their opinions but im going to kill you for that #martha literally did nothing wrong...was a great character with SOLID positive development and wasn't confusing af...what else do u want #matthew played her fucking weird nd uncomfortably before krys started playing her and that's all.#<- and he even apologized for that explaining that he was just fucking around which is fair like. it's a video game roleplay series.#idk. i think it's weird that everyone is willing to view mianite as its content in-universe until it comes to isles...and martha fsr???#also like. people HATE martha and LOVE capsize #like...ur willing to ignore the weird flirting for the sake of capsize's character but not martha??????#also ppl whine about martha being a mary sue or whatever while being andor fans? what is actually wrong with you?#but yeah. martha ended up becoming the epitome of balance in so so so many ways. and on her own terms but not in a defiant way.#i went on about that in my 'mianite s2 was just high scale asian family drama how did white british ppl write it so well by accident' post #so i'm not going to ramble about it again here #but like idk. mybe it's because she's just like me for real but martha hate makes me sooo bitter and also confused #WHATEVERRRRRRRR im going to sleep now snrrrrrk mimimimimimi #mianite #<- for my personal tag i never even use sorry if this gets in the main tag.

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bebewrites · 2 years

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get to know me game

thanks to the loveliest @flowerprose for the tag! 🌸

Favorite Color: pink, olive green, neutrals

Currently Reading: beta reading enchanted at eventide for @sentfromwolves! and was a couple of chapters into the invisible life of addie larue before that

Last Song: about damn time - lizzo

Last Series: only murders in the building (this show is so weirdly funny and i love it)

Last Movie: thor: love & thunder

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: sweet! 🍰

Currently Working On: the night veil! specifically trying to sort out what happens in the middle 🙃

tagging some people i’d like to get to know better! (pls feel free to ignore!) @writingbyricochet @achilleid @houndmouthed @ofwordsandfeathers @laufire-writes

#tag games #literally all of my jackets are olive green #i know some ppl didn't care for the new thor movie #but i thought it was hilarious #but also kinda sad :(#i have such a huge sweet tooth it's ridiculous #i'm a semi professional baker i guess?? lmao #self taught and side hustling it since 2013 #this is why i haven't done much writing the past couple of years 🤣#anyways!#tysm for the tag krys!! ❤️

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dixons-sunshine · 1 day

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Cleansing The Mind, The Soul And The Body | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF credits to @reedusmcbridedaily.*

Summary: Getting Daryl to take a shower or a bath when he wasn't in the mood was never easy. It took a lot of skillful convincing and even some bribery. Luckily, as his wife, all it took was a batting of your eyelashes and he was putty in your hands—and you took this to your advantage.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria; post Saviour arc, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past abuse, Daryl's scars.

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: A fic born from this idea by @louifaith. Hope you like this! This was originally supposed to be a 500 word blurb but I got carried away lol.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The sun was almost completely gone from the sky. The first stars of the night sky were twinkling brightly outside the window of the bathroom in your shared home with Daryl, and the calming, cool breeze was flowing in through the slightly open window. The water was starting to fill up the bathtub, and you meticulously added just enough bubble bath liquid you had found on a run a few weeks prior.

Behind you, Daryl was reluctantly slowly undressing himself, carelessly tossing his shirt into the laundry hamper. He was grumbling to himself under his breath, making you laugh lightly.

“Whatever you want to say, you can say it to my face, Dixon,” you joked, turning the faucet off and turning around to face your half naked husband.

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nothin',” he answered, slowly stepping out of his jeans and boxers and walking over to the bathtub and settling into the bubbly water. “Let's just get this fuckin' over with already.”

You chuckled affectionately, settling onto your knees beside the bathtub and bringing a hand up to brush through his hair. Even though the archer didn't admit it, the warm water of the bathtub was soothing the aches in his body. And your soft hand gently threading through his hair had him practically melting into the water. Despite originally being against the idea of having you bathe him, insisting that he wasn't a little kid and he didn't need someone cleaning him, if he was already so content with just your hand in his hair, he didn't even want to know how relaxed he'd feel if you were to gently wash him.

Daryl subconsciously leaned into your touch and let out a small, content sigh, eliciting a light laugh from you. “Relaxed? I thought you didn't want this. Didn't you say that you "didn't need to be babied" and that "this would be a waste of time"?”

Daryl grumbled under his breath, lightly swatting your hand away. “Shut up,” he mumbled, trying to hide how his lips twitched up into a smile.

You giggled and leaned over the bathtub, catching his lips for a quick, tender kiss, before pulling away again. “Okay, handsome. What first? Body or hair?”

“Hair,” Daryl replied slowly, suddenly feeling hyper aware of the fact that he was naked and vulnerable in front of your eyes.

You nodded and carefully got to work on his hair, wetting it and carefully applying shampoo, working it into his hair while lightly scratching his scalp. “I love your hair. Long hair really suits you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at you.

“Yeah. It compliments your features perfectly. I love it.”

Daryl closed his eyes and basked in the caring, loving moment. However, he couldn't help the nervousness that creeped up on him. The scars on his body were on full display, but luckily the ones on his back were hidden from your view for now. He chastised himself for feeling so insecure about his scars—you were his partner for two years before you became his wife a couple of months prior, and a loyal companion and friend for two years before that, dating all the way back to the quarry. You were well aware of his scars and about his father's abuse, and always worshipped him and reassured him that his scars were nothing to be ashamed of, but that didn't stop his insecurity from creeping up from time to time.

And what should've been a loving, tender moment could potentially be ruined by his insecurity.

While applying the conditioner to his hair, you noticed his now opened eyes staring ahead at the wall, his eyebrows furrowed together as he subconsciously crossed his arms over his chest, right over his scars. You instantly knew what was going through his mind, and you took it on yourself to lift his spirits.

You gently cupped his cheek with one of your hands, prompting him to look at you. His beautiful, ocean coloured eyes locked with your eyes, and you could clearly see the turmoil within their beautiful depths. It made your heart ache to know that someone caused the man you loved so much harm. If his father was still alive, Daryl wouldn't have had to worry about a confrontation with him. No, you would've given the man a taste of his own cruel medicine and after that, you would've killed him.

“Baby,” you whispered softly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Daryl could feel a blush creep up onto his cheeks. He scoffed and ducked his head, letting his wet hair fall in front of his eyes. “Stop,” he mumbled, but he couldn't help the small smile that crept up onto his face.

You giggled and tucked his hair behind his ears. “You are! You're so beautiful, Daryl. I can't believe how lucky I got with you. I won't be surprised if every woman here has a crush on you. Well, except Tara, but other than her...”

“Nah,” he denied and shook his head in disagreement. “Ain't no woman who would give me the time of day 'cept ya. 'Sides, even if there were, I ain't need no other woman. I already have the perfect one.”

You smiled and leaned over for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the previous one. You pulled back with a soft laugh, admiring the man who you'd come to love above everything else.

“And you swear on your life that you're not a romantic. That last line was smooth, Dixon,” you mused, grabbing the soap bar that smelled like lavender and turned back to the archer. “Is this okay?” you asked, motioning to his body.

Daryl's heart swelled at your thoughtfulness. You never wanted to do something that would make him uncomfortable, and he appreciated you for that. Nobody understood him quite like you did.

“Yeah, s'fine,” he replied with a nod, pushing that nagging voice in the back of his mind away. You loved him, every part of him. If you didn't, you would've run for the hills a long time ago. You weren't freaked out by his scars. You loved him for him, scars and all, and he'd be damned if he let his self deprecating thoughts ruin a good, loving moment.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few minutes while you continued to wash his body. However, when he slowly sat forward so that you could wash his back, you broke the serene silence with your loving, soft whispers.

“You're so strong, Dar,” you whispered, gently tracing your soapy fingers over his scars. An involuntary shiver traveled across Daryl's spine, eliciting a small giggle from you. “You're a warrior. You've been fighting to live the life you deserve even before the dead started rising. You've been surviving for far longer than most of us. That makes you so fucking brave, baby. And I know you don't feel like it, but you deserved to be loved, and you are loved. Rick loves you. Michonne loves you. Carol, Maggie, Rosita, Aaron, all of them. But I can assure you, nobody loves you as much as I do. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. I'd die for you. I'd kill for you. I'd do anything for you.”

Daryl inhaled sharply. He swallowed hard, willing the lump in his throat to go away. Hearing that from you was exactly what he needed in that moment. He knew it would be a long journey for him until he actually believed he was worthy of love, worthy of your love, but with you by his side, he knew he'd get there eventually.

“I love ya,” he whispered, staring into your eyes to let you know he meant it. He truly did love you. Nothing could ever change that.

“I love you too,” you answered with a smile, gently rinsing the soap from his back before grabbing the handheld showerhead and instructing him to lean his head back. You carefully rinsed the conditioner from his hair, bringing an end to the bath time.

You grabbed a towel and shook it out, using it to dry your husband. He looked at you in amusement but allowed you to do so, not-so-secretly enjoying the attention you were giving him. You then grabbed the fresh pair of boxers and handed it to him, as well as a pair of flannel pants. He got dressed in them and turned back at you.

“Lift your arms,” you instructed, watching the man lift an eyebrow at you but complying nonetheless. You helped him slip his shirt on, and after he was dressed, you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his clothed chest.

Daryl wasted no time in returning the hug. He tightly wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there. He gently rocked you from side to side.

“Dar?” you whispered, catching his attention.

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna cuddle?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna be the little spoon?” you asked, giggling as Daryl's arms tightened around you. You already knew what the answer was without him having to say anything. “C'mon. Let's go to bed, handsome.”

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