#something something taking things that you were forced to do and finding new joy in them by sharing them with a person you love and trust | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratbby333 · 9 days

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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.

“What is it?” your coworker asked.

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

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shaisuki · 2 months

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THE EXTENSIONS OF MY DEVOTION

YANDERE! HUSBAND MIKAGE REO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── implied noncon, forced marriage, yandere themes babytrapping, reader wants to have more kids, stockholm syndrome, smut, breeding kink, dubcon, pregnancy, talks of childbirth.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ all changed in the blink of an eye and now you're the wife and mother of his children and despite all of what your ceo husband had done to you, you want more children.

the first time you feel him moving inside you, you were absolutely disgusted. horrified for soon to becoming the mother of the baby inside you. created by reo's selfishness and greediness that destroyed your once mundane life.

then he was born. all your worries and fear disappeared with the appearance of your baby. cradled in your arms and his little hand grasping your pinky finger. there were tears of regret streaming down your face of how you could hate this innocent little child without knowing what his father had done to you. wiping down the tears you made a commitment to yourself.

you were going to love this one with all your heart.

the first year with reo being your husband it was hell. how you were only doing paperwork yesterday, now it was filled with days of being told how to act like a proper wife to your ceo husband and being a mother to his heir. maintaining appearances to fit with your status. you're not a commoner anymore, the governess would say to you while being taught of the proper etiquettes.

you didn't enjoy any of it. aside from being taught on how to care for an infant which you insisted despite reo telling you that the nanny can handle it but you refused. you weren't raising this child to be spoiled, stuck up person. you will raise your child like how the way you were raised and your child is the only one who can receive your whole unconditional love.

mikage reiji. your firstborn with your husband. the surname almost bring tears to your eyes. you have it, the surname. appealing it was and leave everyone to be in awe as being the wife and the mother of his child — it was the kind of branding that means he owned you.

reiji was the reason of it. after reo forced himself to you and find out you were carrying his future heir, a wedding soon followed. it was his right, your soon-to-be husband said to you and he won't let his child with you be born to be an illegitimate and your fate was sealed.

even reiji was the cause of it, you lived your days with your son and his presence brought you peace. the only thing reo had done good that you learned to accept.

you enjoyed being a mother to your child and reo was a doting father. praising you for being a good mother to his child and he'll reward you with a kiss that soon turned to be a night of worshipping you.

after that when reiji turned a year old, you were pregnant again. the thought of being with child again scared you but when you look at reiji, you knew it was going to be fine and despite how much you hated reo, a new realization dawned on you. this occured to you many times before when your time was all on taking care of your baby that you enjoyed being a mother and you wished for more.

then reiji was followed by his baby sister being born a year later. a new addition to your family and you were happy. what's dark and cold when you were with reo is now replaced with the neverending joy of being with your children. watch as they outgrow their clothes, learned to call you as their mama. their cute giggles melting the worries in your heart and when the siblings are old enough to sleep in their own rooms, you found the courage to tell reo of your wishes one night.

“reo?” the ceo hums in response when you called his name while he's behind you. his arm draped in your plush stomach, drawing soft circles on it.

“i wish to tell you something.” you shift in your position. turning your body to face him. “what is it, treasure?” his voice soft and mellow. it's the only way he addressed you. “i want to have more children with you.” meeting his gaze and observe how it changes into something of curiosity to one of darkening. smirk blooming in his face.

“that's it, my wife?” he asks. knowing damn sure of it. reo have all the riches in the world and the wealth to give you more what you want and needed. “you want to give reiji and reiko a another sibling, a good choice — treasure.” moving above you to trap you with his body. pinning your arms in both sides as he licks his lips.

some part of you hates him or you got used to it. of him exploiting you and in return you treat it as something normal. no matter how you threatened him or cry in front of him, it doesn't change anything. reo made sure a long time ago that he'll find you even in the deepest pits of hell just to have you again.

it's enough to keep you beside him with no qualms and only received his undying fondness to you. he's obsessed and you're feeding it to him.

“yeah.” you confirm to him and reo leans down. capturing your lips to his and pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth. lowering the straps of your nightgown and tugging it down to reveal the body of his wife that had given him children.

two pregnancies and you're still looking divine. stomach rounder and littered with stretch marks, he can't wait to get you pregnant again. his gorgeous wife that turns anyone green with envy.

“g—going to breed this pussy again.” he groans. his hips moving in a fast pace with the intent of knocking you up again. “you want that, treasure? he moans out, holding your hips tighter. going deeper as possible like the first time he had done it to you. “want me to cum in this pretty pussy of yours and make me a father again? you want that?”

“yes! yes — ahhh! please, reo!” you cry out. digging your nails in his arms and he can feel you tighten. sucking him deep into this warm cunt of yours. it spurs him more to please his wife and giving her what she wants. reo only wants that happiness of yours.

he kisses you once again, your legs locking around his hips to prevent him from pulling out and with a brutal slam of his hips, both of your orgasm came rolling. spurts and spurts of his cum filling your fertile womb and soon it will bless him with a another child and he will fill you up again like a good husband.

there's nothing quite like it when he's all yours and you, round with his baby again.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #blue lock #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk reo #bllk #yandere mikage reo x reader #yandere mikage reo #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage #anime x reader #blue lock x chubby reader

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xxventiswindblumexx · 1 year

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𓁹Let Me Breed You𓁹

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

-You help the Adaptus from dying in the snow and in return he wants to make you his mate-

Yandere!Xiao x afab reader

⚠Warnings⚠:Non-Con, force breeding, breeding kink, predator and prey dynamics, feral Xiao, injured Xiao, Blood, Yandere themes.

It was a cold morning in Liyue, snow scattered the ground of the region as most chose to stay home and enjoy the snow day, however you couldnt, you're a studying nurse who needed to test out some herbs and well these special herbs you're looking for only grow in the cold areas, so hoping to avoid a trip to Dragonspine with this newfound snow day you hoped to find the herb. The weather had turned for the worst, becoming even more bitter and cold, it made you feel like you were being eaten alive even if it wasn't all that bad. Just as you're about to give up your search you noticed something in the distance, squinting you realized it's... a person! They're laying in the snow, unmoving.

You quickly made your way to them to see it was the famous Adaptus Xiao, he was bloodied and unconscious.

Quickly you reached down to feel his neck, faint but he still had a pulse. So you used all your strength to pick up the Adeptus and carry him to your cabin nearby, tending to his wounds, luckily with him not being human he would heal rather fast with the help of your care.

After a few days of treatment and healing you had healed all of his injuries, thankfully not enough to leave permanent scars or be any trouble, but he will get better now, hopefully.

That's how it all started, how the lonely Adaptus Xiao found a new fascination, before now he didn't really have any relationships, any care for humans other then his usual duty to protect them. But then you came along and everything changed, you brought him joy when nothing else could. You helped him become what he wants and wanted is to find love again, he wants someone to take care of him, someone to treat his wounds and tell him everything will be okay. It's like there was never anything wrong with him, even when he didn't want to accept these feelings, he knew they where true.

Of course after a few months you suggested he should probably get back to his usual dutys now that he's healed but to come back occasionally to chat, it's true he was fine now but.. he didn't want to leave, he didn't want to be away for even a moment but complied for now, these strange feelings only becoming more complicated for the poor Adapti as he's trying to figure them out.

Obsession, a simple word that his once innocent love became, even with his duties he made time to watch over you, stalking from a distance and keeping himself hidden. He didn't know what to say to you, even with these feelings he was still very socially awkward so he opted to just watch for now.

But you never notice, no one did because he's very good at staying inconspicuous, and you never notice him because he can always blend into the background, especially when he needs to.

And thats how things continue, for a while, over a span of a year he would watch you become the nurse you wanted to be, getting your license. However that's a problem, you wanted to be a travelling nurse, he couldn't have you leaving, he already killed so many men who attempted to swoon you, sent you so many gifts that seemed strange for toy. Most being parts of the enemies he killed that day, to show he could fight for you, sometimes being food, to show he can provide for you and even once the head of a guy that was being overly flirty to you, to show he can protect you. However he never put who sent the presents, he assumed you would know, unknowingly you're freaking out from such strange gifts.

However now isn't the time for him to send gifts, he has to act. Though with his now clouded judgement and twisted thinking he learned humans don't generally leave partners if they have offsprings, he could do that, then you wouldn't leave, you couldn't.

So he decided a gentle approach first, appeared before your home for the first time in over a year since you parted ways, well as far as you knew. Of course not knowing he was responsible for all the strange occurrences around you, you where relieved to see him, even hugging him.

"Xiao! I'm so glad you're back!" You felt so protected with him around, afraid of the stalker you knew Xiao could protect you.

His face reddening some as he hesitated but held you close, almost not letting go. You let him in as you spoke, at first it was of simple things, about what has been up to what you been doing and so on. It seemed pleasant until he out of the blue tackled you to your futon, blushing hard as you looked up at him "X-Xiao whats-"

"Let me breed you"

a simple demand to him yet such a strong one for you, he just shows up after a year demanding such.. a huge thing.

"Xiao! Y-You can't just ask someone that-"

"Why? I've shown my love, I've shown my capabilities, just submit to me like a good mate won't you? " His eyes no longer held the same shy sweet look but rather an empty coldness you could only describe as pure lust. He was staring at you, waiting for you to respond to him. He looked hungry, almost predatory, yet you struggled against him, you even managed to push him off and run for the door, escaping out while he was confused at first but took it as a game of predator and prey, assuming you wanted him to catch you first.

He was soon chasing you outside your house with his mask on, you ran as fast as you could, you ended up hiding in a small cave area. Breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath, it was all so clear, he was the one doing all this, it made sense, he would be the only one able to pull it all off.

You needed to get help, to find someone, maybe even get Zhongli to hel-

"Found you" his voice spoke from behind you, before you could react he already had you pinned down onto the ground, panting from your sudden exertion. You couldn't move, you were stuck as much by fear as by his hold on you. "Xiao please-"

"Please what?" His eyes held no warmth anymore as he leaned in to whisper "Will you agree to let me mate you? To make us one forever?"

You shook your head as your heart sank to the ground, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from your fear. "No."

He froze for a moment before, he looked hurt for a second but brushed it aside. "Don't worry, you'll learn to love me as I am eventually, right?" His eyes held a cold look yet he didn't need your response, he would make you love him.

He held your wrists above your head with one hand as he kissed you harshly, his lips where cold as his other hand felt your clothes body, as if to admire how well you looked in your outfit before ripping it from you. You screamed as he did so, unable to stop yourself as his lips moved to attack your exposed body, biting and kissing every part of your body as you writhed against him, he gripped you harder and rougher each second as he devoured you with his mouth and teeth. You soon felt two of his fingers shove themselves into your hole, stretching and preparing you, you closed your eyes and cried out in pain as you felt his finger stretch inside of you. A loud cry left your mouth as you felt the pain, your eyes wide open as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

Suddenly he pulled out, leaving you gasping as the feeling of emptiness began to take over your whole body. You hated how your body betrayed you so, reacting to his touches like this. Before long you felt his cock slam into you, forcing himself further inside you making sure to keep most of his weight against you to keep you from wiggling away. Soon you saw stars as he slammed into you, his thrusts never failing to push himself as deep as he could, letting out animalistic growls as held you close to him, feeling his breath hitch some, his cock twitching inside as he continues his harsh pace. The next sound you heard was your own scream as his cum filled your womb and poured over your sensitive opening and out your body, coating you both in sticky white fluid and the smell was sickeningly sweet. As his cum dripped down you felt so tired, so exhausted. Barely able to keep your eyes open as he looked down at you, seemingly proud of the mess he made of you. "this will do nicely, there shouldn't be any reason you wouldn't bare my offspring" laying along side you on the cold ground, huddling you close to him. "I promise you I will always protect you and give you everything you crave" as he nuzzled your neck before finally falling asleep in your arms.

You remained silent as you felt your consciousness slip, the last thing you saw before you succumbed to sleep was the warm body next to yours holding you close as his breathing calmed and eventually slowed down until it turned quiet.

#xiao smut #yandere xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader

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botanicalsword · 22 days

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North Node in Natal Chart ☜ life purpose and area of focus

Our inner aspirations - Talents ; Potential

The North Node is associated with our sense of fulfillment, representing our deepest desires that inspire our quest for satisfaction.

North Node signifies the potential that an individual can develop. The North Node represents a harmonious relationship between us and the collective soul, thus bringing about breakthroughs in our social sphere.

When the North Node aligns with different houses in our birth chart, offering valuable guidance for our lives. Each house represents a specific area of focus and provides insights on how we can navigate and grow as individuals.

On the other hand, the South Node is connected to our need for security. The South Node represents our habits, responses, situations, and experiences that provide us with a sense of security. The South Node refers to a person's past patterns and tendencies. It represents the disharmonious aspects between us and the collective soul, resulting in obstacles in our social relationships.

➻ • ➻ • ➻ • ➻ • ➻ • ➻ • ➻ • ➻ •

1st House

Look inward, understand their own needs, and independent

good to pursue self-employment

learns how to share with others since they cannot rely on others or intimate relationships

rely on themselves - they have to be independent

they are forced to do things on their own and end up doing better than before because they have the ability

2nd House

Accumulate wealth and enhance self-worth; success will naturally follow

focusing on improving yourselves and your financial situation

can earn wealth through their skills

have a specific expertise

have the ability to excel in their profession

resources are not something they possess and must be shared with others

Cultivate strong motivation to accumulate wealth

3rd House

Transform the abstract into the concrete, simplify complex ideas

master effective communication

learn to communicate with people and become messengers of information, sharing their original ideas with those around them

4th House

a stable and harmonious family life provides a solid foundation for our career pursuits

find a balance between our personal and professional lives

learn to balance their family and career by developing their family life

let go of the strong attachment to power as they were power-holders in past lives

Seize the opportunity to play important roles on the social stage

5th House

Develop your talents and boundless creativity to reap abundant rewards

that will bring immense benefits and fulfillment.

well-suited to leading major projects

they need to be mature and objective

avoid spontaneous and childlike behavior

overlook present joys in pursuit of long-term goals

6th House

Emphasis the importance of choosing the right career path

align your work with your goals

strive for efficiency and effectiveness in your professional endeavors

step out of their imaginary world

engage in tangible service work every day

7th House

highlights the significance of interpersonal relationships and collaboration

let go of self-centeredness, learn to compromise

cultivate positive connections with others

learn to let go of themselves and not focus on how others perceive them

8th House

emphasizes trust and sharing

adopting a selfless mindset

being open to collaboration that can bring you numerous rewards and opportunities

need to undergo the destruction of their ideology in order to transform and liberate their souls

9th House

look beyond worldly distractions

explore profound truths and philosophical ideas

venture into new territories, both physically and intellectually, in our quest for knowledge and enlightenment

learn to find the logical reasoning behind all common knowledge and allow it to form more complex and sophisticated structures

spend more time studying profound knowledge

expose themselves to diverse cultures, as it allows them to make comparisons with their own culture

10th House

prompts us to take on social responsibilities and strive for professional success

embrace independence

make a positive impact in our chosen career path

develop a sense of social responsibility

fulfill some social responsibilities through their work and do meaningful things on the social stage

11th House

Step into the public sphere

pursue career opportunities

gain recognition, respect, and the chance to make a meaningful contribution

learn not to be too selfish and to value the importance of the socials

achieve balance through socialising

12th House

cultivate self-understanding and inner growth

focus on our spiritual development

help others achieve their goals that can find deep fulfillment and purpose in life

avoid busyness and overwhelming attention

engage with activities like meditation retreats that allow them to quiet down

>> Masterlist | explicit contents Exclusive access : Patreon • artist’s updates

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flowerandblood · 1 month

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Glass Cuts Deepest Epilogue

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment and panic attacks, the power of fluff ]

[ description: Aemond and Wright have a year of their relationship behind them, full of joy, but also difficult situations for them, related to demons from his past. Despite this, they find their own ways to live normally and happily. Aemond, jealous that Cregan is now her professor, decides to find out if the girl who changed his life still loves him. Sexual tension, childhood traumas and sweet fluff. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place one year after Glass Cuts Deepest Series. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

When a year had passed since he and Wright had officially announced that they were together, he was relieved to find that his panic attacks had almost disappeared, and if they did occur, they no longer involved vomiting and convulsions, causing only discomfort and a feeling of tightness in his stomach.

Wright was perfectly capable of recognising its symptoms, spotting instantly when he froze or turned pale, not touching him at the time, just asking quietly if he needed a moment alone or if he would like her to embrace him.

More and more often he wanted to simply cuddle up to her, so he would then ask her to let him, but not to touch him herself. He would then draw her close and sink his face into her neck, taking in her wonderful scent, listening to her breathing until he calmed down.

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled then, ashamed that, as usual, he thought he had got it over with, that it was so good after all. He fought then against the grim thoughts that he would never be normal, that she had to live with someone who didn't cope, who was constantly afraid.

"− don't apologise −" She whispered softly, resting her cheek on his head, playing with the fingers of her hand, waiting patiently for him to be able to function normally again.

"− I'm glad that now when you feel unwell, you don't feel discomfort when I'm close − it's very important to me −" She said warmly, kissing his hair, and he felt his muscles relax slowly, the fact that she never made sudden movements, never tried to embrace him against his will, made him feel safe.

She respected the fact that he knew for himself what was good for him and what he needed, and she never forced him into anything, on the contrary, she always carefully studied his barriers.

Once when she showed him a picture of a nightgown, finding it lovely and pretty, white, lacy and strapless, of slippery, shiny material, he turned pale and shook his head quickly, looking away, seeing her enter his room then, what she was wearing was all too similar in his mind, a cold sweat on his back.

"− oh, I'm sorry − I won't show you this kind of things anymore − I just − I'd like to buy myself some nice pyjamas − the kind you'd like −" She muttered, looking up at him, turning on the couch, he sighed quietly, rubbing her bare legs that rested on his thighs.

"− I like it when you wear my Tshirts − nothing turns me on more −" He hummed, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her blush as she lay dressed in his black shirt covering her thighs, he knew she had nothing but panties underneath, just the way he liked it.

"− oh −" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed, pretending to scroll something further on her phone.

Since he had left the university and focused on his own studio, he felt that the immense frustration that had been with him all those years, of having to deal with strange women, having to constantly explain his decisions and apologise for the way he was, had left him.

In his new workshop, more spacious and brighter than the one he had worked in before, he felt free, and the only girl who was allowed inside was Wright.

Sometimes he couldn't help himself and would ask her how Cregan was doing in his job, seeing that she was progressing more and more each month, jealous that now someone else was her professor, she was spending a lot of time in class which was hard for him to come to terms with after they had spent so much time in each other's company up to that point.

"He is a really good teacher. He has a lot of patience and explains complicated things so that they seem simple, or he shows us something by doing it himself and we can watch." She said lightly, standing beside him, helping him cut out templates for his new commission, which he was working on with some of his former students he had hired. He hit the side of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, impatient for some reason.

"That's good." He replied dispassionately, feeling her cast him a quick glance upon hearing the tone of his voice, leaning lower to bend forward and look at his face.

"Are you jealous, Professor?" She hummed softly and he pressed his lips together, recognising that he hadn't given a shit, that he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around facing the backlit table, his hands slid her panties down in a swift, sure movement, leaving her in a state of shock, his hand on the nape of her neck forced her to bend over, the material of her dress lifted slightly, revealing her naked buttocks, he noticed out of the corner of his eye her entrance, glistening from her wetness.

She was his Eve, and although neither of them had ever completely undressed, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do so or endure such a sight without the memories overwhelming him, the sight of her partial nudity no longer frightened him, for her body was his temple, pure, warm and safe.

"− I've been thinking about this ever since I met you − you don't even know how many times I've stood over you barely restraining myself from fucking you good on a table like this −" He breathed out, quickly unzipping his trousers, lowering them a tad once with his boxers, not waiting a moment, forcing the swollen head of his cock between her puffy, weeping folds.

"− wider − that's it − fuck − are you okay? −" He muttered, casting her an uncertain look after he thrust deeper into her, sliding all the way in, her tight walls resisting him as he hadn't prepared her for this as well as usual.

"− y-yes − keep going − just − take it slow −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed under his breath, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of her on the backlit top of his table on which he usually cut glass, his lips pressed against her long, perfumed neck as his hips began to rock slowly inside her, barely sliding out of her without any rush, letting her get used to his size.

"− so warm − fuck, baby −" He gasped out, hearing her first shy moans, feeling his cock slide into her with increasing ease, slick with her moisture, her muscles began to throb around him, squeezing him, he looked down, watching as he opened her wide with deep, sure thrusts of his hips.

"− please, Professor − please −" She mewled and he sighed loudly, she knew how it affected him, she knew how much it aroused him, involuntarily he picked up his pace, his thighs began to slam against her buttocks with loud splats, all around them just their panting and the sticky clicks of her leaking wetness.

"− you have no shame − begging for your professor's cock − is this how you got good grades at university? huh? − you like it when they fuck you well? −" He sneered, clamping his hands over her bare buttocks, letting go of control completely, allowing his subconscious to take over him and his movements, his pushes faster and more aggressive, rubbing her where she needed it. She leaned back on her palms against the table top, responding to his thrusts by rocking her hips, her hot, wet muscles sucking him inside with her moans of delight.

"− n-no − I work so hard −" She muttered frightened, as if some part of her really believed he could think that about her, he chuckled under his breath, running his hand through her hair, pounding into her so fast and deep that he was no longer sliding out of her with loud slaps of skin against skin.

"− I can see how hard you're working − how much it costs you to fit it in −" He scoffed, and she whimpered at his words, responding more and more eagerly to his thrusts, his knee spreading her thighs wider, forcing her to bend over again with her loud gasp of exertion.

"− I-I'm sorry − I promise I'll be good already, I promise, I promise, I promise −" She mewled, moaning low as he felt her muscles begin to throb in orgasm, her body arching backwards, he embraced her around the waist, his other hand gripping her cheeks, his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, greedy, hot kiss as, after a few sloppy, messy thrusts, he came deep inside her with a heavy sigh of delight.

"− I know − my sweet little girl, am I right? −" He gasped, panting loudly along with her, embracing her tightly from behind, nuzzling his cheek against hers, her hands clasped around his arms, stroking them steadily, his half-hard manhood still twitching deep inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled, burying her face in his cheek, as she always did after their rapprochement, needing his closeness and the tenderness he never denied her.

"− you don't think of him that way, do you? −" He asked quietly, ashamed of his insecurity, of his own fear and imaginings, of the fact that someone else, someone better could easily take his place at her side when he needed her so much, loved her so much.

"− oh, no, silly − I never felt anything like that before you − I think I was in love with you long before I realised it −" She said warmly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, a sweet, girlish smile full of tenderness on her lips that melted his heart, his confirmation that all was well.

"− yes − yes, me too −" He murmured, leaning lower, placing warm, wet kisses on her face. He began to wonder intensely if the ring he had chosen for her, which lay tucked deep in one of his drawers where he kept his designs was still there, and if he would be a complete idiot to propose to her now.

After a moment he decided that yes, he would be a complete idiot and sighed quietly, smiling involuntarily under his breath, sliding out of her gently, helping her put her panties back on over her buttocks, then zipping up his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, she turned to face him, all red from exertion, her eyes big, her breathing still slightly accelerated.

"Take me today to the church where you first saw the stained glass windows. You told me that story once, I think you mentioned that your father took you there." He said softly and she blinked, curious, cocking her head, leaning her palms against the edge of the table.

"Alright, why not, Professor. Where did you suddenly get this idea?" She asked cheerfully, excitedly, and he snorted under his breath.

"You'll see."

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writella · 8 months

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Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You

Synopsis: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, mutual pining, kisses, lots of love and ♡ sweetness ♡ (true self indulgence at its finest), but there are also descriptions of trauma, abuse, and self-hate. Though other than that, it’s nothing else except Daryl being an endearing friend and future loverboy to you. This travels across the plot and setting of season 6-8, but it might not be a perfect fit. Lastly, even though these can be read anthologically, I did write them in a storyline as if there was an order in which Daryl gives or does these things with the reader as their relationship grows, so some past trinkets might be mentioned in the next story, but it truly isn’t too big of a deal; this is one you can have fun with! ♡

Author’s Note: My dearest reader, this one took much longer than I intended, but I think it’s because I put so much of my silly heart-filled imagination into it— truly one of my favorites to write thus far. I’m just so happy to give it to you. Feel free to read these all at once, one at a time, or pick the ones that best fit who you are. with love, writella . ♡ ⋆ ☽

Trinkets moodboard & visualizer here!

Trinket No. 1: The Ribbon ⋆ ˚��⋆౨ৎ˚ ⟡.•

A Bow from a Bowman

Daryl was out on a hunt one morning when he found it. It’s like he was compelled to pick it up, he did it without even thinking. It was nothing, honestly: kind of silly really, and flimsy, slightly covered by grass blades— it was dirty and discarded. But there was something about it, something tender… it reminded him of you, even though in some ways still, he hardly knew you at all.

It had been over a month since Daryl came back home to Alexandria; just a month since you entered what was supposed to be your new home. But also a week or so long journey it had been to unexpectedly find you and bring you back.

He remembered it well: you were covered in dirt, tired and hungry, running for your life from the past group you were with. He was going to let you go and mind his business— you looked scared of him anyway when you crashed into him. But most importantly, he had just lost his crossbow, his bike, and maybe even a little bit of his dignity to Dwight who stole them. He didn’t feel like getting tricked again, especially since it takes a lot to trick him; he wasn’t letting that happen again. Especially not the day after. And most especially not for a seemingly young and innocent-looking girl like Dwight’s wife, Sherry or that kid they were with, Tina.

But then, he heard the yelling, the hollering, the men– they wanted you, and none of it was for the right reasons. Very wrong and scary reasons they were indeed, ones he would soon come to understand were things you’d never want to live out or discuss again. He understood that feeling, so he stayed. He hid behind a tree. He decided to help again. Who knows of your innocence, but what was definitely true was that you were a lost and lonely girl in the woods. He knew a thing or two about those unfortunately, those stories ended badly.

Sad enough, the hiding and helping— or attempting to— led him to become a prisoner with you and your ‘group.’ He barely got scraps of food, and every night was just another day of seeing your tears, your face in a permanent state of desolation and misery; staying ever silent even when you were yelled at— even when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do. You looked scared and small.

It was only when you all reached a hospital, one you burned to the ground just to get away from them, that Daryl saw the fight in you. You didn’t even ask for his help and he tried to save you, but in the end, you saved him. A silent soldier, you were. He returned the favor with the least he could do: he took you home.

And now there you both were. You sat by Rick’s fireplace. No one was home yet, and you had just put Judith down for the night. Daryl found you there on the floor with a book. He quietly sat near you. All you two said was hello.

And this was normal, actually– the being around each other, showing up unannounced, sitting beside each other– talking or not– or you, trying to help him with whatever work he was up to. He tried to fight it at first, but it became a regular thing. It’s what helped Daryl get to know you, and you to him.

You were equally as fierce as the fire you created not long ago, but just as gentle. Just as desiring to smile and create friendships. He knew that now. And he— he was just as rock solid and straightforward as the crossbow he once carried, but just delicate. Just as easily hurt and as quick to hide, yet so deeply desiring of loyalty and acceptance. You know that now too.

It’s still so soon, but you admired him, so deeply. You wanted to learn from him. You thought he was strong, and you wanted to be strong. All that anguish and pain and he came out a fighter, a leader.

Little did you know that is exactly what he thought of you. He went from seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night to becoming the kind and generous friend you were to almost everyone you met. Always offering to care for Judith, or allowing Carl to come to you to talk, or learning about guns and shooting with Rosita. And of course finding a way to go on supply runs, or learn to hunt, or fight walkers with Daryl as much as you could. As always, he pretended not to care that much, but he did. He couldn’t help it. He values his independence, but it was nice that there was someone who wanted to be around him so much. And he admired you for his own reasons as well: You’re someone who fills others up with lightness when such dark things have happened. He felt like that every time you two we’re together. He wanted to learn from you too.

As he sat there, thinking, he wondered if maybe that’s why he thought of you when he saw it. Maybe it was the brightness and softness of it, despite finding it on the ground, despite it being dirty. He cleaned it up, and it still shined, that’s like you but… he was still unsure. Maybe it truly was nothing, maybe it was stupid.

He looked to his side, watching your figure for a moment as he decided what to do. You were on your stomach, laying on the small rug that sat in front of the fire. You were continuing the chapter you were on, paying little attention to him. He only said ‘hey,’ after all. And you did wave back, you asked him how his day was, but all he gave you was a typical response, ‘fine,’ he had said. You thought maybe this visit wasn’t about talking so you left it. And all of this was typical anyway, for Daryl to come by Rick’s, or for you two to sit in peaceful silence, but then you started to see him fidget in his spot in your periphery, like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to sit, hands adjusting his jeans, moving things in his pocket.

“Do you wanna go to the porch?” You thought maybe he was reaching for a smoke. “I can put on the baby monitor…” He just shook his head at the suggestion.

You decide to move to the spot next to him, leaning your back against the wall. “Did something happen today?” Your voice was soft as you tilt your head, trying to reach his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head again, he was facing forward. “It’s just…”

“What?” You asked calmly.

He found it hard to speak, “Just- just brought something.” He reached into his pocket one last time, his hand in a fist as it made its way closer between the two of you until he started to release his fingers from his palm slowly.

It was a ribbon. A pearly light pink one. Just scattered in his hand. “It’s stupid,” he grumbled quietly, trying to shove it back down his pocket, but you stop him.

“Wait,” your hands gently cupping the other side of his and then you pick it up, letting him go. You wrap the ribbon around your finger and you tie it into a bow, examining it in your palm now. “This is for me?” Soft disbelief enchanted your voice. You made sure not to sound too excited or too surprised. You didn’t want to scare him, especially since he replied with:

“It's nothin’.” He was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It's so nice,” your voice continued in its understated tone despite your smile becoming uncontainable. You couldn’t help the way your lips were curling upward, it was even hurting your cheekbones to try to make your teeth shine through a little less— Daryl Dixon just gave you a gift. And it was a little pink thing at that. Perhaps miracles are real. “It's perfect,” you say, “I can wear it in my hair.”

“It's stupid.” He repeated, brushing you off, but you saw right through him. Daryl doesn’t do anything for no reason at all.

“It's not.” Your words are so kind as your interject, “You know, sometimes it's the smallest things that mean everything. They become our favorite things even.” Your lips pressed together, forming another smile as he meets your gaze, “Like your vest that needs to be patched up.”

“It's fine,” he almost sounded defensive. It made you laugh.

As messed up as it is, it truly was fine. It was his and he loved it; that made it so. And he didn’t only have the vest, he also had his cut-up button-downs, and those ties he laced on the bottom of his jeans— you knew those were probably because the pants available didn’t always fit all the time, but nonetheless— these were all things that made him and his clothing unique from the others. Even in the apocalypse, Daryl was one of the few that maintained a personal style. You couldn’t help but love it. He could, and often always was, the guy covered all in dirt and grim and blood but he still had something about his look that was simply just him.

You missed that. Having those personal touches, and now here Daryl was with this. The simplest thing, but he brought it for you. It was your special piece, your special something. It truly was perfect.

“C’mere,” Daryl gestured, taking the ribbon from your hand and moving your shoulders so your back faced him. He undid the bow and cuffed your hair, he actually almost yanked your head with the way he gathered the ponytail, honestly– he forgets his strength, but you said nothing. Only giggling slightly, but you were mostly quiet. You tried to keep it down, afraid he might stop if he thought you were making fun of him. You wanted to reel at the closeness for as long as you could. You couldn’t believe the fact that he was doing something so domestic— you almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to detangle some pieces with his fingers and then he tilted his head to the side to leave some shorter pieces out at the front. He didn’t know what he was doing and he probably was doing it badly, but he tried his best to be delicate. He’s never touched you like this before. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against your ear or your neck he relearned just how soft you are. And every feeling of his skin almost made you shiver; like when someone whispers in your ear, it always feels so sensitive, traveling down until you feel it everywhere. His touches felt like that. You always end up feeling his everywhere. He’s entrancing, filling you with hearts and stars.

Finally, he ties the ribbon into a bow right at the top of the ponytail he created. He’s done. He lets go. They shapes and colors fade. Everything is cold again.

But to him, everything looked warm and vibrant. Looking at you was a sight so sweet and so gentle among all this dark wreckage of the world— it was precisely how he saw you: the way the ribbon now laced around your hair looked like an angelic embrace.

You turn to him, “Thank you, Daryl.” Your smile is so sincere, so lovely, there might as well be a halo and hearts invisibly drawn all around you.

A moment passes as you continue to look at each other and your heart jumps. He’s still looking directly at you. There are moments that he looks away and you can’t help it, the bashfulness creeps up on you two, but he’s giving you all his attention; it feels great. You decide to take the chance, you can't help yourself, you hug him, you have to. It has been so long since someone gave you something. So long since someone thought of you so specifically and intimately.

He’s caught off guard, his hands don’t wrap around you until a few seconds later, but when they do, they are sure, and tight, more sure of it than you surprisingly.

You breathe him in, giggling again, “I’m surprised you smell this good.”

“Fuck you.” It makes you laugh just a bit louder, it’s the nicest ‘fuck you,’ you’ve ever heard. Its tone has a hint of sincerity in tandem with humor in just the same way you delivered your line. He shakes his head, “You’re silly.”

He lets you go and you turn away, but it’s only just a little. He watches how the ribbon lays right where he put it again, seeing the side of your face light up with your rosy smile as you sway your head. You’re trying to not make it obvious that you want to feel the wag of the bow and your hair back there so you do it slowly, it just feels so cool and so pretty. You liked it so much. You didn’t even know what it looked like yet, but it already made you feel more like yourself. Like a part of you that had left before this world began— it fit well like a missing piece finally snapping into place. It was your unique touch and he found it for you. He did it for you. Just for you.

For me, you repeated it in your mind, he found it just for me.

Trinket No. 2: The Lesson ō͡≡o˞̶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Turnpikes, Gunshots, and Dreams

You had asked and asked for weeks with no let up. It made you start getting creative with your pleas: “You know, Daryl, we really should be teaching each other our skills,” you had insisted, sarcasm lining your voice. No one else in the group knew how to ride yet they were doing just fine, but you were incessant, “You never know what kind of situation we’ll be in where we might need it… I could die,” your hands raise as your voice does, “and your bike could be my only escape but I wouldn’t even know how to ride it!”

He would always just stare at you blankly, ignoring you, especially when you got dramatic like this right before you two were leaving. “Get on or stay,” he would say, “go help Rosita or somethin’.”

You’d grit your teeth and get on regardless.

But then one day, one lucky, lucky day for you— it was your earnest approach, and your silly smile, and sun-filled eyes that got the best of him as they looked up to meet his darker ones. “Please,” you said, stretching out the word, it was just as cheesy as your smile. He looked back at you from his front seat as you continued, “I just want to feel capable and- free… I don’t know,” but you did, you meant it and felt it from deep inside you. “To know I have the option I wanted to… I… I didn’t really have those before.”

He was still for a moment and then he nodded, restarting the ignition. You guessed that was another no until you started to ride past the walkers that lined the outer gate. “An hour,” he said, his eyes forward as the trees became a blur to both of you, “then we gotta get work done.” You wrapped your arms around him tightly, you only used to cup his waist or hold his shoulders, but you felt fearless today, head leaning against his back and neck, arms hugging around his torso. He finally said yes.

As time went by, you had gotten comfortable with completing your drills. You learned the controls, how to shift gears, how to waddle and power walk with the bike, operate the clutch, throttle, and lift your feet up, riding on a straight path all by yourself. Turns were still hard though, and the fact that Daryl always insisted you think about the worst-case scenario wasn’t the greatest either. He’d look you dead in the eye, his voice clear and unrestrained from his usual grovels as he said, “If a herd is comin’, or people are shooting, or if there’s something tryin’ to crash into you, you need to think about how you’re going down. Decide on what won’t fuck you up completely, then do it. ” He always got way too close to your face without realizing it in those moments, his finger almost crashing into your nose as he vigorously pointed to get the idea across.

“If something goes down, I’m not arguing,” you say. “You'll be in front.” You meant it, your voice was quiet, you understood.

But really, you didn’t: “If something go down, either of us should be able to do it.” He paused to make sure you got it this time, “That's the point.”

As if you didn’t already sense it, this was the first time you absolutely understood that Daryl was serious when he decided to do anything. Full commitment. Start to finish. You said you wanted to learn, that you wanted to be capable, then that’s exactly what he was going to teach you. You would take it seriously too.

Soon enough, Daryl allowed you to ride out of the gates of Alexandria first instead of switching off after you got a few miles out. You were getting better. So much so that today would be a different day, he explained. Daryl wanted you to ride to the Hilltop. This would be the longest distance you’ve ever rode. A whole 23 miles. But before you guys got there he would steer you in the direction of a turnpike: he wanted to practice speed, and most crucially for you, right and left turning.

His weapons and guns were strapped to his lower body, some on his thigh holster, and a machine gun over his back, all just in case, and his hold on your waist was fixed as you rode. It made you feel like a child and such a little teenager all in one with how excited you would get. Not only were you becoming skilled at riding a whole fucking motorcycle, but you were the one he was holding onto this time and it was the longest amount of time he was holding you at that.

As you reached the turnpike, he guided you around the semi-circular road. Continuing on, you saw a few walkers in the distance. He told you to speed up, there was enough space on the road and there were only four of them, they were far away anyway.

You looked back at your surroundings, other than those four, the road was pretty clear other than some broken down, discarded cars. This accidentally became a lesson on tight turns and swerving too.

Some of your turns were abrupt as you tried to go around the cars, it made you nervous. You knew it was okay not to be perfect, but it was still a little stressful to make mistakes when a master was watching behind you.

“Relax,” he’d tell you, sometimes putting his hands over yours on the handles and helping you out. “You got it.”

You went on and as the walkers approached closer, an idea arose. It was probably irresponsible, but you joked anyway, “Daryl,” you whisper-shouted with fake suspense, getting his attention. “We’re on a mission. Got to take those guys out before they get to Rick!”

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He leaned in closer as you leaned forward, gaining speed. One arm wrapped around your hips in totality, hand placed firmly there as the other reached for his gun, extending his arm out as you two got closer to the walkers. You two turned to face them as Daryl pulled the trigger: one shot each, straight in the head, “Got ‘em.”

You gasp, your laughter sounding so wild and fun and unrestrained in a way it hasn’t been heard by either of you before. “Is it bad if I say I hope we find another one?!”

“No, that was fun,” he agrees understatedly, trying not to fully give in. You couldn’t even see his face, yet he was trying to hide a smile.

And you were too. It was all too much honestly. You were balancing riding and having Daryl right behind you, holding onto you, trusting you to do something he’s never let anyone else do before; and you just proved you both could probably kill it in a high stakes situation. Well, maybe not, this was very, very low stakes, but still, it made you believe. You decided to ride the high, quite literally as you kept going, shouting back: “Imagine us in battle?”

Oh, wait— your grin fades slightly, you immediately regretted it after you said it. The point of this life was to try to find a way to live, not always fighting to survive. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

The silence makes you feel like an idiot until Daryl speaks up, both hands now on your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, “If we were in battle,” he almost whispers into your ear, “we’d be their worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

You feel your smile practically reaching your ears. “We’re a team,” you say, the humor coming back to your face now, the shine in your teeth reflecting the sun as it always does. “A dream team.”

A dream… Maybe. You definitely were at least, but that is a thought he doesn’t let come to the forefront. He let it go. But it was true… something about you felt unreal to him. The way you wanted to be around him this much, so interested in the things he does; he still didn’t get it, it almost felt unbelievable. He wondered when it was going to stop. When he would wake up. He didn’t want to wake up. The thought grows, he can’t avoid it now: you are a dream. One he didn’t even know he wanted.

Trinket No. 3: Lucky Charms ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flying Away With You

You gasp excitedly, “The Eiffel Tower!” You hold the bottom up to the light as he still holds the top. “Nice,” you say with bright eyes, “I found the Statue of Liberty in the mom’s jewelry box and a few others that weren’t on her charm bracelet.” You showed him the mother’s sterling silver and he showed you the daughter’s that he found. “I guess they were traveling family… or wanted to be.” You feel a heaviness behind your eyes after you say it.

You loved collecting these charms, but sometimes there was a sadness to it. Like you were collecting other people's tokens, little pieces of their personalities and their stories, keeping it as your own. It almost felt invasive. But it was something that you and Daryl did together. You liked that. Another thing that made you feel close to him… Maybe this was like keeping their memory alive? You may not have known them or know what happened to them, but you were giving something that they loved new life. The charms did make you happy, after all. Especially because it was Daryl that got you into it. But it was also you who got Daryl into it too.

You both can recall the first day it all started: He found it incredulous that you cared more about a little piece of jewelry you saw in the dirt rather than the bigger thing that was right by it: the deer Daryl just shot, the one that you two had been tracking for what felt like hours.

His face twisted up to you as he collected his bolt from the body, “We just caught a deer, and you’re lookin’ at that?”

“We just caught a deer for the first time in months and this was right by them… it’s literally good luck!” You held the gold sun charm to the actual light source it was designed after, “Look at us… Lucky charm, dream team, remember?” Your smile was just so wide after you said it, he let his slight irritation go. It was easy actually, he was always taken aback by that smile. It still wasn’t that long ago when he thought you weren’t the type to do so, like him most of the time. He had only seen you sad, but now, I’m Alexandria, you just glowed. Eyes and an essence as bright as the sun, and that smile, all teeth and just as pearly as the moon… The charm was perfect for you and it needed its match. Maybe a star too. He would find it.

He still remembers where he found those. He came across a silver crescent moon necklace discarded on the floor of a girl’s bedroom. It was simplistic, like one or those expensive necklaces that shouldn’t even be that expensive because of how small it was, but it was a perfect charm size, and it shined, there were no scratches. In the other girl’s room in the house, probably the younger sister, there was a charm bracelet on the desk. It was kind of childish and clunky, like one you could get in those supermarket toy vending machines. He took the first charm he touched and removed the clasp from it for your moon. It was hard to do it with his fingers on something so small and dainty but after a few tries, he managed.

As for the star, he found it on a walker in the woods. It was a little girl, it almost made him feel bad to do it because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but her and what looked like her mom and dad went straight for the two rabbits he just caught, ripping their skin, eating them. He shot them all in the head. The thud of their bodies to the ground only seconds apart. Oh well, were his thoughts, their fault for messing with his catch. After that is when he noticed the gold charm bracelet on the kid’s wrist. It was different from the one he saw last time in that other girl’s room, it wasn’t a fake toy, it was more refined. Maybe they were a well-off family.

There was a star was at the center. It’s all he wanted, but he thought you might want to see the others she had too— they were all nature themed, he kind of liked it— so he tried to take the bracelet off but it wasn’t working. The thing fit her wrist perfectly and the bracelet clasp was stuck so, in typical Daryl fashion… he just chopped the girl's hand off.

Kind of gross, and he would definitely have to keep the red off of everything now, but the star charm was gold, it would match the sun charm and the moon would stand out at the center, he assumed. He thought it could look nice… and beggars can’t be choosers in the apocalypse anyway. After he took the bracelet he discarded of the hand, tossing it to the ground like it was nothing. (He’d leave that part out if you asked for the story later). Now that he had the bracelet, you would also have a gold owl, a bunny, a bird, and if it couldn’t get any better, there was a deer charm too. That’s what was most important about the account anyway.

That night, Daryl crawled into your bedroom from the window while you were asleep. He placed the star and moon on top of your journal that was on your desk, and after that, he left. That was it. He just wanted to surprise you. He’d give you the rest later. You only realized he did it and how he did it when you closed your window that was slightly left open the next day. There were scuff marks on the window sill. They were from his shoes.

After that it became a game; a little side quest. Like how people would count red versus blue cars or shout ‘punch buggy,’ when they are out with their family. An activity that took you out of your boredom, or really, for you in the apocalypse, it was an activity that made you feel oddly sane again, since you always dealt with the insane everyday anyway.

That was what today was about. At least on the down low; at least after you found anything of value for the community; at least to you two. You guys had found what seemed to be a wealthy neighborhood a while ago, when you passed that turnpike. The houses there were so big there, but all you had was his bike at the time, nowhere to put supplies and you were expected at the Hilltop, you couldn’t stay and look around.

It had been a little while after that and you had a plan now, a few Alexandrians backing you up with cars. You two finished your portion of houses to sweep and now you were waiting on the others, sitting in one of the house porches. That’s why you both were showing each other your finds from this place and the others.

You continued to hold the Eiffel Tower charm in your hand, “Maybe we should go to Paris…” Your voice was wistfully, then a quietness lingered in the air, it made you laugh awkwardly, releasing the tension. Your suggestion was one of those silly things you say where you mean it, but you pretend it’s just a joke, knowing it won’t have any outcome. “All of us, I mean,” you do mean it, but at the same time you we’re just talking about him right now. “That would be nice.”

“What would I do in Paris?” He asks it while he fixes his weapons, you’re sitting back, looking at the trees. He thought it was a ridiculous idea. He’s never been anywhere. He hadn’t even been to Virginia or D.C. before this and there’s no way he could go anywhere else now.

“Well I guess we’re never going to know unless we find out… you can eat!” You laugh, “You do like eating.”

He snorts, “Who knows if there’s food left there.”

Pessimist. “Again— we’re never going to know unless we find out.”

“Have fun tryin’ to become a pilot,” his drawl comes out strong on that last word. “Or a plane.”

“I guess that’s the next charm we need to find, an airplane or a captain’s hat. I am a pilot… or I can pretend to be.” There’s that smile again, “I can do anything.”

“Bet you could.” He meant it.

You nod, your next words making you laugh at yourself, “I’m Barbie.”

“Better,” he mutters. You can barely hear it. You don’t know if it was real so you say nothing until—

“We’re going to travel the world some day, Daryl.” You say it so surely, breaking the moment of silence, “We’ll find a way.” As long as we’re together. As long as you want me.

That’s all you wanted, truly. Even if this world really couldn’t take you to Paris, or New York, or anywhere out of Virginia. All you wanted was him. All you wished and hoped for is that he wanted you… but did he? You still weren’t sure.

Trinket No. 4: The Flower and the Photograph 𓇢𓆸

Back Pocket Memory

You two were almost near Alexandria, only a few miles left to drive. “Do you think we can just sit down over there before heading back?”

Daryl continued driving, “Dangerous to leave a good van with supplies just put.”

You pointed to the clearing you were referring to ahead. The trees were sparse in that area, it might have been a meadow, but you didn’t know the difference. There was a little pond near the center. “Can we just drive the car a little bit closer? Just for a few minutes?” You look up at him, your eyes doing that little sunshine thing as it always does, “I just want to sit in the grass,” you say, putting your hand out the window, feeling the wind through your fingers, “the sky feels so nice today.”

He huffs, but does as you ask. “Get out,” he says, gesturing to you to walk over to the area you pointed at. “Pick your spot.” You run over and he follows. You have this wonder about you, it was almost childlike, but not childish, more— sweet, innocent perhaps.

You jump down to the ground and cross your legs on the grass, looking out at the pond. Daryl parks the car a little behind you and comes out to sit on the hood. His legs spread, knees almost to his chest, his elbows lay on there, arms extended.

You look at him, “You’re really not going to sit down?”

“If someone comes up behind us and steals our shit then that’s gonna be your fault.”

Fair. You gesture at him to move over and you sit to his side on top of the car.

As you settle, you close your eyes and you raise your face to the sky. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your closed eyelids. There was a majestic kind of wind that blew in the air today. It made everything look effortless, especially Daryl.

His ever-so disheveled hair had pieces flying on both sides, brushing some parts out of his face, and pushing others in. As always, it was just enough that they didn’t completely cover his eyes. How does that always happen? Thinking about it makes you giggle lightly as you look at him.

“What?” He asks, becoming a little self conscious.

You shake your head, your eyes looking at him kindly, hoping to ease his nerves. “You just look nice.” Your voice was silvery and sweet as you said it.

You get up and skip toward the pond, picking a flower and coming back to him. You sit down and try to put the tiniest white flower behind his ear.

“What’re you doin’?” He tries to swat it away, playfully hitting your other hand that tries to hold him in place and he takes the flower from your other hand. He successfully places it behind your ear instead. “Better,” he says.

As he looks at you, he notices light pieces of your hair frizzing up at the top from the wind, other pieces at the bottom still moving around slightly. It didn’t look bad, to him, your hair looks more like that invisible halo he sees when you’re around, and with that flower in your hair, you look like a true angel or maybe even a fairy with all the greenery surrounding you. You’re just lovely.

You give him a closed smile, your head falling to your knees. “Pretty day,” you sigh contentedly.

Pretty girl.

Handsome man.

Then a thought comes. Your smile turning to a grin.

“What?” He asks sharply. He knows the look you get when you’re up to something at this point.

You grab your backpack from your side, slowly bringing out the polaroid camera you found earlier today.

“No,” he pushes the side of your face, already detesting the idea.

“Daryl,” you whine.

He says it straight this time, “No.”

“But…” your eyes trail his face for a moment before continuing, “you just look… I don’t know. It’s like I said, you just look so- nice.” There’s other words you could use, but you don’t, not yet. “I just think it would be nice to have a nice picture. All we take pictures of is the houses and work. It’s boring and a waste.” You pause, “Daryl… Please?”

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, “You first.”

He’s glad no one was around when these moments happened. Someone might think you had him completely whipped. His brother definitely would think so if he was still around. Daryl was almost embarrassed of himself because of it. But you don’t ask for much. Other than the bike thing, you really didn’t. You trusted him and you were patient. You went along with his plans and you could sit for long car rides and periods of time in quietness if that’s what he wanted. You never pushed him to tell you his story. He only knew a part of yours circumstantially and he didn’t push you for more details after he brought you home, so you did the same. He could feel you wanted to ask more questions, but he also saw you stop yourself, move on, you were creative with your conversation topics: you asked him about what the best thing he hunted was, or what his favorite things were about your friends. You were so gentle with him. Maybe you could get him to do almost anything you wanted without you even knowing, but it was worth it for someone like you.

You look down shyly, “I’m not good at pictures,” you admit.

“You’ll look fine.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. You’re so alike, more than you know.

He tilted your jaw with his thumb. It was too quick for you to melt into it but the feeling lingered, it made you buzz with excitement and it was easy to smile after that. He looked through the viewfinder, seeing you do that pretty sunny smile, matching the yellow bud of the white flower. He clicked the button. Beautiful.

You snatch the camera instantly, “Your turn!” You were too eager but you didn’t care.

You take the flower from your hair and bring it toward him. He sucks his teeth, saying your name as he does so, “No!”

“Yes, Daryl!” You push it over his ear, but not before he pushes you knee, just to do it. He didn’t even know why he was fighting, he knew he was letting you have your way right now. “Look,” you sound like a school teacher, “very nice.”

You even out some of the frizzy parts at the top of his head, the light wind was still blowing through it, it was futile so you left it, he looked great anyway. A perfectly imperfect mess.

He crossed his arms over his knees and looked into your eyes. You held the camera to your face and snapped the shot. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him for a moment longer. If anyone else was here that could see those all to familiar hearts and stars around you and in your eyes, it was so hard to hide. “I’m keeping this,” you said, placing the polaroid delicately in your back pocket. He said nothing, he wasn’t going yo let you know he cared about a dumb picture. “Okay, thank you for indulging me,” you start, taking the flower from his ear, “let’s go home.”

Later that night, past one am, he came through your window again. But this time you saw. Your head was almost covered by the blankets, your eyes slightly open. He didn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he wanted to be quick.

You saw him go into your bookbag. It was hanging on your desk chair. He took the picture out. He wanted it. He wanted your picture. The one that matched yours of him. Maybe this was something. Maybe he did want you.

You closed your eyes quickly when he started to turn around, then watched as quietly as you could as he neared the window, starting to climb out but not before he placed the polaroid in his back pocket, just like you did. Now you both had a piece of each other, forever.

Trinket No. 5: The Music Player and the Wish on an Eyelash ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ♬♪

Never Fade Away

It’s official, in all the ways it possibly could be: Alexandria was truly your home. More time has passed: you live in a house, you have a job, you have family— it’s your friends. In some ways things are better than they have ever been… yet you still think about the night and the dark just as much as you used to. You tried to hide it, you wanted to be grateful and you were. But the things that used to happen to you, and the people that hurt you… they still lingered like ghosts when night came.

In the closed and guarded walls of your community, you hoped night could be a time and place that was peaceful. But thoughts of an attack, thoughts of losing your first real home, it left you apprehensive and paranoid of what could happen in your vulnerable state. And when you close your eyes, sometimes the past visits your dreams. It all felt inescapable.

It makes you so fearful that despite keeping your window’s curtain open, a battery-powered lantern resides practically glued to your nightstand— always on when the sun goes down. You knew it was a waste of a resource, but at least you kept it on low, at least when you woke up in the middle of the night, closer to morning really, you remembered to turn it off— the sun making its way back around soothed your nerves; it was always that initial getting-to-sleep part that made you need it anyway.

And of course, you’ve tried to calm yourself down at night using different methods to see what stuck: You do read— your neighbors were always kind enough to lend whatever books were in their houses— and you did daydream— letting your mind wander to happier, more wondrous places when you wanted to escape— and it did help sometimes, but on other nights, it wasn’t enough.

You miss watching tv in bed. There was something about the buzz of the box, and the voices of humor and romance and relatability that miraculously took you away, and helped you stop thinking, even allowed you to drift to sleep… it was a luxury you didn’t have anymore, and not only did you not have that luxury, you also had an overabundance of dead or deadly issues to worry about. It all haunted you.

You sat with your back against the headboard of the bed. You’ve yet to put on any night clothes. You had already read the next chapter of your book, and you would have read another, and possibly another after that, but tonight you knew it would have just kept you awake as something to do instead of worrying about sleep. You were tired though. That’s why you stopped, but you also weren’t ready for trying to catch sleep that wouldn’t come.

Part of you hoped Daryl would stop by, but he doesn’t always, and he probably won’t tonight. Some nights he’s out until the next day or the next week, who knows how far he went this time, you didn’t go with him and he left too quickly to ask. It had been a few days since you saw him last.

When he was here though, he did start to make it a habit of stopping by to see you, especially when it was time for Alexandrians to settle into their homes for the night. He stopped being so quiet through the window and only dropping things off. He would start coming through the door. It was just a light chat for a couple of minutes at first, then there were the times when he stayed an hour or two. He always sat on your floor, by the window, or by the door. You never understood why until you insisted he sit in your chair by the closet. It was only until a few more visits later you realized the chair's light color becoming just a bit visibly darker. It was soot and hard work and the air, he worked outside all day and usually visited before he called it a night. You made sure not to mention it, you just cleaned it yourself. No need for him to feel embarrassed.

Besides, you didn't mind, anytime he walked through your door or jumped in from your window, that was his chair, at least that’s what you called it in your head. You liked that. You liked that after he brought you home he didn’t move on and let you be. In his defense, you didn’t let him be either, but he could have always distanced himself if he wanted to, told you no, but he didn’t.

You two have gotten so close quite quickly. You both felt it and you didn’t know why, but at the same time, you did. It was something left unspoken, even in your mind, always on the side toward the back of your brain. That part knew you could fall in love with him, but why admit it to yourself if the other person might not feel the same? You were still feeling that way. Despite all the moments you’ve shared thus far. His silent nature was endearing at times, but it could also be a very confusing gripe of yours. There were moments when you knew exactly where his mind was, but there were other times when you simply did not. Especially when it came to you. Daryl always gave you just enough, and maybe tonight, it would be nothing at all.

At least that’s where your thoughts resided until you heard the creak of your door slowly pushing inward.

Daryl’s hand holds the doorknob, meeting your eyes as he steps in further. Your window casting just enough light on his face.

“Hi,” you meant to be clever, ask him if he knew how to knock, but only wistful, subdued surprise is all that came out in your one-word greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, it almost seemed like he was surprised too, you couldn’t tell it from his voice but from the way he cut the word short. “Didn’t know if you were awake.”

You laugh somberly, “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t see you in the window.”

His voice is low, your house is quiet, and people are asleep in the other rooms. You match his tone with your own quietness, “Right,” you say. The window did hit the bed end, not the top. But he knew you were a late sleeper. He even came and sat with you for longer the night before he left because you had told him about it— he knew, he had to, but you didn’t question it.

“Um,” he’s looking down, “Was just gonna leave somethin’.”

He starts to walk to your nightstand but you stop him, your hand reaching out, not touching him, but it’s just enough to pull him to your gaze. “You’re gonna leave without showing me?”

Daryl positions himself toward you and you sit up. Gingerly, he takes something small out of his front pocket, it was covered in one of his bandanas. He looks at it for a moment, almost unsure before placing it on the bed, right in front of your lap.

It was an MP3 player. One of those slim rectangular ones with a digital rectangular screen to match and a big circular button with the controls covering the bottom half. There were some small scratches in the screen corners and some dent marks in the back. The arrow buttons were starting to fade too, but he handed you some headphones out of his back pocket as you continued to examine it, it must have worked.

You look up at him, eyes wide, shining just a bit in the dark just like the little silver miracle that was in your hands. You remembered having one of these, the thought made your lips curl, a light open-mouthed smile forming as the nostalgia set in.

You move closer to the edge of the bed, the sky illuminating you more in your semi-darkened room. You place your hand on the other end of your bed, “Come,” you say as your tap the spot. He’s hesitant before he finally accepts the invitation, sitting down. You would have insisted anyway if he didn’t.

You flip the switch on the side then and the music starts instantly in your right ear where you set one of the earbuds in. You tried to put the left on him, but he shook his hand, “You listen.” You let him be for now, you were too excited to see what the previous owner was into.

The songs are scattered from different decades, but what you notice the most of as you skip through were various 90s and 2000s rock, pop-punk, pop, and the like. There was Nirvana, but also Fiona Apple to Blondie, and even Elvis. It was a little all over the place, really. This definitely had to be a teen’s in the early or late aughts. You thought maybe Carl would like this. There was even some stuff that you were sure had to have come out in 2010, right before the apocalypse began… Another kid who wouldn’t get to spend the rest of their teens, or young adulthood, or adult life like they were supposed to, like you were supposed to.

Having these thoughts while Aerosmith’s Fly Away From Here played was not helping, especially since it made you think of your lost family, and those from your found family that were gone now too, so you decided to skip, but the button seemed to fidget. You tried again, then again, even touching the screen. You accidentally made the shuffle icon come onto the bottom corner.

“Don’t like Aerosmith?” Daryl read it on the screen, but he also recalled the melody, even from just the soft buzz produced by the headphones, the volume was accidentally turned all the way up, you set it down.

You give him a light smile, “Aerosmith’s fine. Just have to be a little more careful with this, I guess.”

You continue to press forward to see what else is there until you shriek, color coming back to your face as you shake your head at the memory emerging as you listen. “Oh my god, my sibling used to love this song when we were younger.” It was Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend that was playing. “We used to put on the radio or look up the music videos on the tv and dance. They loved doing that…” Your voice was soft, both sweet yet desolate, “I knew all the popular songs and all their favorite songs whether I liked it or not.” You giggle, “I can lie this one is fun.”

You knew Daryl would probably scoff, but you lightly place the left earbud near his ear for a few seconds so he can hear what you’re talking about.

“Definitely a chick’s.”

“‘Chick’?” It was funny, and you did laugh, but you still decide to protest, “It’s just one song and…I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty eclectic mix of artists…” You continue to press forward as you ask, “Were there kids? Or- did there used to be?”

“Based on the rooms.” He nods, “Boy and a girl.”

“Hm,” you say curiously, flipping through the songs: the next one that played was by Linkin Park, then Alanis Morisette… you wondered if the kids shared it or shared interests. Suddenly, the player starts Lit’s My Own Worst Enemy. Your eyes are starlit as you gasp, “Oh, this one is so you.”

This time you fully push the headphone into his left ear, turning the volume all the way up as the first verse plays, his face is fixed, “This ain’t me.” There is silence as the music continues and he scorns, “You think I used to just get drunk all the time?”

“Daryl,” your laugh is light, “no.” It was a ridiculous thought and he should know it, but nonetheless, you console him, “Of course not.” Your hand reaches forward onto the bed, nearing where his own resided, but not touching. It saddened you to see Daryl always react like this to small things. He was never judgmental, but he was always so quick to believe others would judge him. “Maybe not that part,” you smile, slightly mischievous, “but- okay, this-” you sing-speak along lightly, remembering to stay quiet, “it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy, cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me- that's you! That's literally you.”

He shakes his head, ‘Whatever,’ the gesture says with his grunt.

“No, you’re actually a little bit self-deprecating, I think. At least internally.” You continue, “Oh, and this part— I didn't mean to call you that- you see?” You say, humor still in your smile, “That part is you.”

Daryl gives you another small grunt indicating ‘no’ as he shakes his head again. “If I say something to someone, then I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I don’t.”

“Well, you also mean a lot of what you don’t say,” your eyes trail to the side. You knew that didn’t make sense, but it did to you. There was a part of you that was still in denial of your feelings or if there was a possibility he had any for you either. You’d never see him talk or treat anyone in a more than friendly way– or whatever Daryl’s version of friendly was. You wanted to protect yourself by not admitting you adored him, even to yourself, but really, you knew. And there was the way he kept giving you these things, these little moments: the ribbon, the picture, the charms… It made that smaller part of you that believed something was there, glow and warm inside your heart.

You look at him, there was a sorrow placed on both of your faces, but he just looks at his hand that is placed on the bed through his hair, the one that's so close to yours. “You really don’t think there is anything you don’t regret saying?” Another song passes, you didn’t recall it, but then the playlist shifts to something slower, it’s the Beatles. “I just think you keep a lot inside… It’s okay though. But it is just something I notice.”

Normally, a comment like this or something similar to it would sound trite and judgmental, there are a lot of things people don’t talk about now, but you say it with understanding, a little sad because you can’t help it, but your voice is kind, like gentle fingers through his hair, evening it out; a voice that shows you care, you see him and respect him even if you do want more. “It’s okay,” you whisper as Paul McCartney’s voice sings softly, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me.” It felt like he was speaking right to Daryl as he continued to look away from you.

It’s moments like this where he wants to say it all. The sad stories from his childhood that he has never been able to tell anyone before. Stories about his brother… the bad, yes, but even some of the good ones. He knows he could talk to Rick if he wanted, or Carol. His group was loyal to him as much as he was to them– he knew that, but they probably wouldn’t care to hear about Merle, it would probably make them angry to be reminded of all the bad things he’s done to them. He wouldn’t blame them. In many ways, and for more reasons then all of them, he will always be angry at his brother too. This is why he didn’t even like to let himself think about the past, but in other ways, it still sucked. It makes him feel alone, like talking about himself or his brother or the past was just a gateway to hurting himself and scaring others, scaring you.

You wipe him away from those thoughts even though you didn’t even hear them, your voice pulling him out of his trance, “Things are harder now, Daryl, but I think you’ve only gotten better.” There is still so much you don’t know, but nonetheless, it’s like you can read his mind.

“This is the only me you know.”

“And even then I don’t think you’re the man I met when you found me… We’re definitely not the same people.” Your hand is just inches from his fingertips now. “We all have things to improve on, even if we think we’ve already grown up. I think that’s a part of growing up actually… just realizing that you never do, or at least not entirely. You’re always going to continue to grow.” Your words linger in the air as the next song starts, it’s Paramore, it’s The Only Exception— something still laced with melancholia but it has a sweet gentleness to it. It's just like you. This is how you were trying to be with your words. “It’s better if you allow it though, or work toward it instead of against it, I think.” You laugh at yourself then, “But I'm far from perfect so I should really stop talking.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks, you’re hopeful the night’s light doesn’t show it too much.

He wishes he could tell you he thinks you’re perfect, or at least something close to it. At least for him. You truly were like an angel. Maybe Radiohead is on this too.

The chorus continues to play, leading to the song’s ending and his jaw tightens. It’s annoying that you were right, your words from before echo to him. They weren’t nonsensical, he did get it: he does mean the things he never says as much as the things he does, but no one will ever get to know. Not that everyone has to, but maybe for you, maybe just a little, maybe you can be the exception. And he can tell that you’re trying to me: who carries around a silly little ribbon anyway? Or who keeps their window open almost every night, even on cold nights? He felt like he was failing you. Maybe these gifts and these small moments weren't enough. Maybe they were just trinkets; meaningless, giving you false hope for a love he couldn’t provide.

You both hear the outro, “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing,” and his heart pangs at that. Maybe he doesn’t have to fail, maybe he can try, at least right now, “It’s just…” he speaks up, his voice clears, “It made me think of you when I saw it.” He was talking about the mp3, “That’s why I brought it back… You’re always humming under your breath. Now you can stop annoying me with the same old thing.”

Your eyes roll, but you aren’t mad, in fact, you can't help that it makes you smile. “Oh, okay, Daryl,” you say through quiet bits of laughter.

“Also thought it could help you sleep… I dunno.”

You nod intently at his words, “Thank you,” and that wistfulness in your voice returns. “That's really kind.”

He nods back. He’s so gruff and straight-faced all the time, but was it bad to say that there were moments when you can't help but see him as adorable? He was always trying not to meet your gaze through his hair, and it was always messy like a kid’s, just like when you took that photograph.

Muse’s Starlight starts playing as you brush some of the hair out of his face. It's an awkward transition, but it's what you get from accidentally pressing shuffle so many times. In the end, though, the words make it seem perfect for the moment. The singer spoke of desire and escape, about missing loved ones and wanting to keep someone special, someone that's like starlight, close by. You understood that. He did too.

You giggle lightly, “Daryl, you- you have something…” You point at your face in reflection of his.

“What?” He wipes his nose.

“No, it's- it’s here,” you say, taking your finger to lightly catch the eyelash that threatened to slip away from his face and onto the bed. “Make a wish,” you whisper. Your face is nothing short of innocence and wonder.

His snorts, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“Daryl,” you eyes widened with apparent prodding and pleading annoyance, but your words still have a sense of amusement to them, “I think we need all the luck we can get.” Your head tilts as you say through your smiling teeth, “I’ll do it with you…?”

“Fine.” He can’t help that your squeal makes his lips curl but he’s trying to hide it.

“You have to really do it.” You turn the music down, it's in the background now. Your usual sun-filled eyes are currently wide like the moon as you look into his, coming closer to his face.

He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise?” You sing.

“Promise.” He meant it, he even closed his eyes before you to prove it.

You closed your eyes too, “Okay, I’m trusting you.” Squeezing them tightly, you whisper, “Think about what you want, and then I'm going to count to three and we blow.”

Instantly, your heart foolishly thinks of Daryl. You know you could be thinking about the safety of your group, the stability of Alexandria, or hoping that the threat everyone feels coming subsides into nothingness, but all your thoughts are just of him. It makes you feel like a silly little girl, waiting for that big romantic confession of love that you dream about, the one that will probably never come.

I wish for you, you think. You can’t help it, you can’t say anything else, this is the only thing that’s true, I just wish to stay by your side, forever.

The song echoes your hopes too, I’ll never let you go if you promise not to fade away.

You agree, never fade away, please.

“Okay,” you say softly aloud, “1… 2… 3…” And then your wish flies into the air. You two stare at each other afterwards, eyes starry like the sky from your window.

You wished for each other.

Trinket No. 6: Scars, Marks, Tattoos, and Internal Wounds ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Things I Only Trust You to Know

It’s another night. Another visit. It wasn’t intentional this time, but your curtains were drawn. They’re almost never drawn, at least not completely. The window was still open though, the night’s breeze ruffled them backwards. Daryl became concerned, so he climbed up, opening the window wider and pushing the curtains to the side to get through.

He saw you crying.

Hearing the thud of his boots stomp lightly to the ground triggered you to turn, body facing the closet as you were curled in your bed. You didn’t want him to see you. “I’m tired tonight, Daryl.” Your voice was low, you tried to keep in neutral. For the most part you were doing well, but it was still obvious you weren’t fine— he saw your face before you covered it.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs hitting by your feet. He didn’t feel like asking if you were okay if you were going to lie and say no. “You can tell me to go if you want,” was all he said, rubbing your arm as he did and then let go. You starting sniffling involuntarily because of the touch. You realized you were holding in a breath, the shaky exhale came out louder than you wished it did. “I’m sorry,” your voice blubbering. You were embarrassed. You hadn’t done this in front of him since before he brought you home.

“Don’t gotta be.”

“I feel stupid,” you say under your breath. You’re still trying to hide your face.

“Stop.” He puts his hand over your body now, on the bed, and he faces you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head slowly, looking at him, “I don’t know how to say. I can’t-”

“Just say it,” he said calmly.

You felt heat rising from your throat, it was like the words were trying to come out, but it felt scary to do so, it made your teeth grind against each other. Your head shakes harder, “I don’t think I can.”

He brings a hand to your face and wipes some of your tears with his thumb, “What would you tell me?”

You would tell him to speak, that it’s okay, you both knew it. The thought makes you sit up in your bed, tears still running down your cheeks, but you were going to try.

“You’re just going to get annoyed,” you wipe some of your tears with your wrist, “think I’m dumb, like a little girl.”

“You’re not dumb,” he spoke over you before you finished.

You pause, you shake your head again. The words are on your tongue but you just feel so bad and so embarrassed to admit it. “Sometimes I just…” your voice hitches and your hands goes to your head, more tears fall, “it’s just one of those days, I guess.”

One of Daryl’s hands goes to your shoulder and your upper back, he pats you until it quickly becomes a soft, swaying motion.

Your voice doesn’t go above the lightest whisper as you try to start again, “Sometimes- I just look at myself and I-” a sob erupts from your throat and tears roll much quicker, “I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, but sometimes I just wonder if anyone could love me.” It doesn’t even feel good to finally admit it, but you continue, “I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not enough. Or I’ll never be.”

Daryl’s face heats up. How could you ever feel that way about yourself? How do you not see yourself as anything less than everything he’s seen in you since the day he met you? You’re not stupid. Never. He feels stupid for not seeing this in you. He feels stupid for it being so hard for him to tell you everything wonderful about yourself in the way you deserve.

He thinks for a moment, he wishes he was more poetic, but he wasn’t and there are still certain things he’s not ready to say. So he decides on something else as he calls your name, “You’re telling me you can’t see you’re a tough son of a bitch?” The phrase makes you laugh involuntarily through your tears, he always says it like it’s one word. “One that found a way to burn down a hospital and kill a bunch of dickheads in one go just to stay alive?” He huffs, “Prettiest arsonist I’ve seen.”

You gasped but it made you smile lightly, it was funny. “I’m not an arsonist! And it was only part of the building.”

“Coulda fool me.” He tilts his head, “But you’re also probably one of the best scavengers we got. And you’re a good friend.” His hand travels to your knee, “You’re really good at talkin’ to people… and to me.”

You try to let his words fill you up but there is still doubt. “I don’t feel like pretty and really good are the right words.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t get it, “Well, what do you see that I’m not?”

Your heart beats ferociously, you don’t move, you’re hesitant, you don’t know if this is right, but there is a part of your that wants to. “Can I show you something?” You asked.

He nods.

It’s scary, but you decide to trust him, showing him the part of yourself you felt most ashamed of. The part of you that you thought was unloveable.

But he sees nothing shameful, nothing bad, he just holds onto it or another part of you, caressing you gently. “You’re perfect,” he says, shrugging as if his words aren’t a big deal, but he knows they are. This is the first time he doesn’t keep a thought like this in his head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turns his back on you now, and he takes a breath, sighing deeply. You’re confused until he sighs and starts to speak; “When you were with those guys— and I know it ain’t the same, but— I know what it’s like. For people to use you.” He swallows hard, “I don’t like myself all the time neither.”

Your eyes widen. He was taking off his shirt. The first thing you see are tattoos, until your eyes travel to the other side, you see what he meant; the scars. “My dad. He was a drunk and a loser and an asshole.” Daryl's voice hitched, you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you had never heard him like this before. “He did it to my brother too, Merle. But then he just left when he was old enough. Didn’t even give a shit that our dad was gonna do it to me,” there was anger in his voice. “He said he didn’t know,” and then he chokes on his words, “but how can I believe that? Thought it’d just skip a generation? He never changed. Neither of ‘em.” You wanted to hold him, but you didn’t know if it was too soon. He was still speaking, “Then when I got old enough, I left too. Some time later I started drifting ‘round with Merle, like that was gonna be any better… Two fucked up kids doing nothin’ with their fucked up lives.” His face turned to the side, you saw his profile, his eyes were red, “That’s what I did before Rick… You all were going to do good things with your life and I was gonna be nothing.”

“Daryl…” you were crestfallen, “I’m so sorry.” You held his arm, stroking it softly. “But you weren’t going to be nothing.”

“Yes, I was.”

“There is no thinking about what could have been. This is how life is. Maybe this was always going to happen,” your voice falters as you say it. “You’re not nothing. You’ve become everything to so many people.”

He turns his face back around and you look at his back again. It was difficult to look at, you won’t lie. Your heart sunk low, like it was being squeezed and brought down to the pit of your stomach to know that someone put him through this. Someone who was supposed to love him. Another tear escaped your eye at of the thought.

“Daryl,” you stutter meekly, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

His nod is so faint you barely see it, but he doesn’t say anything else so you believe it is a yes.

Your fingers ghost over his back until you let the tips of them finally lay on his skin.

His eyes wince and squeeze as he shutters despite your fingers trailing so tenderly. Your palm is now flat on his back as you move downwards and back up again. You kiss near his shoulder, right on the tip of his highest tattoo and then you wrap your arms around him, under his arms over his waist, and he holds your hands there.

You stay there for a long while, you don’t have a recollection of time. The moment feels like forever, although it is sad and you wished you weren’t discussing the things you were to get here, you don’t want it to end. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him.

It’s quiet until he says, “No,” disagreeingly, “You’re not brave just because you go through some shit.”

“But you still are,” you insist. “This happened to you and you chose to be the person you are now despite it. You became someone invincible.” You pressed him against you tighter, “I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Finally he turns around and takes you in his arms, your head now resting over his shoulder as your chests touch, closing the gap. You lay down on the bed and he stays on top of you. One hand plays with your hair and you continue to caress his back.

“I really like your tattoos,” you whisper, almost a giggle in your voice. “They look really good on you.”

He smiles a little. He never takes off his shirt so people barely see all the ones he has. He liked that you liked them. “Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want more? If you could?” You also want to ask why he got the ones he did, but the crying has made you sleepy and him being on top of you is making your mind hazy. “I wish I could,” is all you add.

He looks at you, “Maybe that’s the next thing we find.” He was talking about a tattoo gun, “That’s the kind of junk people don’t need now, we’ll look.”

He plays with your hair again, both your smiles are so innocent and lazy, you two would knock out soon, but it was nice to talk about something that used to be mundane for a moment.

“What if we do it and it turns out bad?”

“We’re not gonna find it tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, moving on. “You know… I remember I used to be so scared of that stuff— needles and blood. I can imagine wincing just thinking about a needle touching me at the doctor’s… But now, I think that’s a pain I’d actually prefer… Rather than the other things we’ve gone through… If there ever was a choice like that.”

He agrees, “If there was a choice, I’d be covered by now.”

You two laugh at that, letting go of each other. Your bodies are on your sides, parallel to one another as you lay down. You’re on the side that faces the window and Daryl’s back is to it. He sees the moonlight illuminate your face because of it, the glow makes you look enchanting.

He wonders if you would get one— a tattoo, or another one, of this: of the moon; of the night where you showed each other parts of your bodies you wanted to hide, thinking they were flaws; of the night where you accepted each other fully despite it. Where he laughed and felt happy even after he shared something so dark. He almost never laughs or feels happiness in its totality, but with you, he does. It happened right now as he’s looking at you.

You see his face glistening in tandem with the white light that shines on you, it’s darker, but it’s still there. You were wondering the same exact thing.

Your eyes feel heavy now. They slowly flutter shut, but you try to keep them open. You don’t want him to leave. But he sees that your face dozing off, you’re tired, your eyes keep trying to close and close fully. He quietly gets up to go, but you stop him. Holding onto his forearm, sliding down to his hand. “Just stay,” you murmur, “please,” it’s light and dream-like. So he does. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go of you.

You both stay at your sides, your intertwined hands at the center. He continues to look at you and you smile softly as your body finally allows your eyes to close shut. You drift swiftly to sleep. And he stays awake for a while longer, fixed on you and your slowing breath until sleep finds him too.

Daryl being right there, and you being right next to him, made everything infinitely better.

Despite it being vague on details, feel free to skip around areas of this one if you are not comfortable with reading about the reader being imprisoned at the Sanctuary.

Trinkets No. 7 & 8: The Second Ribbon and the First Kiss ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ જ⁀➴ -`♥︎´-

Confessions From a Broken Bowman and a Battered Beaut

It had taken a long while for you and Daryl to talk again after you escaped the Sanctuary.

The last time he saw you was through your tears as Negan’s men threw him in a van, your eyes bloodshot, wanting to scream and plead. He felt it was his fault that he didn’t fight harder; he felt that it was his fault that you were in there for so long; felt it was his fault that you were taken there in the first place. He couldn’t save Glenn— a burden he still carried so deeply, even after talking to Maggie— and that led to not being able to save you. He felt like he left you, not knowing you would have been in the same place he was if he didn’t escape before you got there. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if it’s a good or bad thing to admit that in a heart beat, he would take another day of torture, of abuse and pain, if it meant he was with you, and you could make it out together. One more day for him would have been worth your days only adding up to one hand if it could. It would have been better than just waiting for you on the other side. Having to hide just so Negan wouldn’t find him and kill him and more of his friends because of it.

And even worse, what if he threatened Daryl with you instead? Especially since you were still there, with him. That’s part of the reason why Daryl wanted to blow up the Sanctuary. It would have just been one side. Just enough to cause the chaos you needed to run away from your captures and back home. You were fast enough, he knows you are, and you must have known all the exits by now. He tried to convince himself of it. Rick told him it was a bad idea, dangerous to do that to the workers, and most importantly to you— it too many what ifs if it didn’t work out— but what else was he supposed to do? He needed you out, and the Saviors to be gone. It felt like the only choice.

But then, Daryl saw your face. You got out, you didn’t need another fire. It must have been their first attack against the Sanctuary that helped.

Your breathing was so heavy when you finally stopped, you were running so fast, there were patches of dirt all over you, sweat dripping from your neck. It must have been fate that he, Tara, Micchone, and Rosita were right there on the other side, ironically trying to go back to the place you just escaped from.

All their guns were pointed in your direction. They heard the gunshots, they heard someone running. They instantly dropped everything when they saw that it was you.

It felt like the world turned in its full rotation in seconds, coming into a halt all in this moment. The woods, the running, the chance encounter— him; it’s like you were brought right back to the start.

He was speechless, stunned in a way he didn’t expect, mouth agape and yours the same. You didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to apologize in the way he felt he should, so you both just stood there. Tears started to well in your eyes. All he did in the end was look down.

This exchange of stares happened only in a mere matter of seconds until Rosita brought you in for a hug, cursing leaving even though she knew you didn’t have a choice, being so happy you were back, but for you it felt agonizingly long.

And for Daryl, it all felt endlessly hopeless. The reality that his plan probably could, or most definitely would have killed you sunk in. He was stupid for thinking that it could work. And seeing you in that wife's dress? A black bow tied to the back of your head? It was unbearable. He hates that he found it hard to even look at you.

The two other women welcomed you back, Michonne even looked teary eyed. The sight made some of your own tears fall because of it. She took you by the shoulder and Rosita took your waist, guiding you to the trunk. Tara went back near Daryl, she wanted to ask if their new plan at the Sanctuary was still a go but waited when she noticed Rosita sent a glare Daryl’s way. It honestly did more to Tara than Daryl. He didn’t even bother meeting her face, he was already punching himself for his silence, for his inaction. He just got in the driver’s seat and took off.

After that, you watched him, waiting to see when his eyes would finally meet yours, but he tried to avoid them as much as he could. The only time he spoke to you was to ask if you were okay when Alexandria fell and you were all in the sewers, and when he entrusted you to take care of Judith as he guided everyone to the Hilltop afterwards.

This treatment was excruciating, but you said nothing. You didn’t feel like yelling at him, you just wanted him. And there was no time between when you came back to right now when you could speak alone anyway if you did want to yell. If you asked why he probably would just shoved you off and you’d get more sad and upset than you already were, or maybe you’d pester, demanding some kind of answer and he'd be the one that might yell… no reason to fight in front of people, especially since there are so many other things to worry about.

But you remember when you finally got to the Hilltop, and how you saw the way he embraced Carol almost right after he saw her. You weren’t upset about that specifically. You admired Carol, even if you didn’t get to know her that well yet. You knew they loved each other, you thought they had a beautiful relationship… It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you fought all the way to get back to your family, to him, and it felt like it was all just so he could act like a stranger again. He didn’t even say hello when he saw you, or ask how you got out, or that he missed you. Maybe he didn’t. That was the real reason you said nothing. The thought broke your heart.

You could at least say that Negan talked to you, and didn’t keep all his feelings inside– whether they were real or not, you were only half sure somtimes– but your time at the Sanctuary, becoming a soon-to-be-wife, it was a hardship only you endured. No one would understand the humor of that sick joke, and it especially wasn’t the time nor would it ever be when everyone hated him and wanted to kill him so desperately.

The next day came by, you all prepared for the Saviors to attack at Hilltop. You were on a break, sitting in the cellar. It was dark, but it helped relieve you from the incessant heat that beamed outside.

Daryl was looking for you. This happened to be the third place he went around. He had just spoke to Rick, apologized for their fight. He felt awful that it took until after Carl passed for them to talk about it, and that his passing made Rick start to believe all the killing might be the only option like Daryl believed before. He still wasn’t sure what he felt now. All he knew is he couldn’t let you two go on like this any longer. It was time to talk to you.

As he opened the cellar door he kept it slightly open, letting the light emanate through.

He sits down next to you, bringing his knees up as he usually does. You don’t bother looking at him. Maybe he would just ask you to do him a favor like last time.

There is silence for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin. All he decides to say is, “You got Judith here safe, I made sure Rick knew. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who led us here.” Your voice says quietly.

“You helped chop a lot of those walkers down in the swap.”

You sigh, not answering him right away. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” he mutters.

Silence is all that hangs in the air again. With each second that passes it makes your throat swell, bubbling up to your tongue and brain as it usually does until you’re trying to hold back tears.

Daryl was feeling similarly. All his words were caught in his throat too, wanting to be said out loud but he can’t, it’s like someone is squeezing and choking him right there. And he can see your teary eyes, it could almost make his eyes match.

He says your name low and slow, “Do you hate me?”

You’re stunned at the thought. Your words are hushed but vehement, “How could you ever think I’d hate you?”

“I left you-”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve fought harder when they put me in that van, you grabbed onto me and I still let them take me—”

You speak in between his words, “Why are you acting like you had a choice?!”

“—I could’ve went back right after they told me that’s where you were. Not leave you! I coulda done that.”

You shake your head, your voice a sharp whisper, “If you tried either of those things you would have been dead. Everything would be worse and this probably still would have happened.”

“I could’ve done something,” is all he repeats. Quietness fills the space again. You’re never going to agree on this. He’s stuck on what happened and you’re upset about what’s happening.

You breathe in shakily. He’s still finding it hard to look and it hurts, it makes you sad and angry.

Your voice becomes stifled, almost weepingly as you ask, “Daryl… Why can’t you even look at me? Why have you barely talked to me since I came back?”

His voice raises strainingly, “Cause I left you.”

Your voice cries as your head shakes again slowly, “You didn’t leave me, they took me. You left me now.” That makes him turn. You see his eyes, they’re puffed and the whites of his eyes are a faint red, and yours are still watery. “It’s not your fault.”

The backs of your fingertips brush against his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard and you go down further, continuing to shake your head sadly, moving back to your face to wipe your own tears.

“Did they put you in that cell? Take your stuff?”

“Only the first time I came there. And then the two other times I tried to escape. After that I was sent to sleep with the other girls.” Your voice is quiet, “I don’t think it was the same for me like it was for you.”

“Did he,” he almost can't say it, “Did he hurt you?”

You knew what he meant. All you could do was shake your head slowly, it was a gesture of no.

He nods, his mouth fixed. Some relief is finally released from that, but this doesn’t change anything. They still took you away, they probably put you in a cell, they don’t deserve mercy. He wants to tell you that you all are still going to kill Negan and how he still plans on killing Dwight, but he holds his tongue. This wasn’t what being with you was about right now. His mind races with plans, just thinking of how to get close to them, how to commit the final act, until you speak, reading is mind again.

“I-” you stutter ashamedly, “I think- I know that my time in there has changed me and maybe I see things differently or know more than I used to but… it doesn’t change that I’m with you. I never let that go.” You whimper, “It just hurt when you didn’t say anything to me. Like you were disgusted by me.” You can’t help the string of sobs that come out.

“No,” Daryl holds your face close to his. The bottom of his palm reaching your neck, his fingertips extending over your cheeks, his thumb caressing over the area under and behind your ears. “I fucked up. I was going to try to blow up a part of the Sanctuary… even before I knew you got out… If you got hurt that would have been my fault. That would have been on me. I’d never see you again- Would’ve hated myself.” His voice hitches, it’s rasp so coarse and grating.

You hug him instantly. Your hands go under his arms and one of his goes in your hair, holding your head so tightly as it presses into his shoulder. He cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop” You breathe him in, “It’s okay.”

“It aint.”

“It doesn’t matter now.“ You wait a moment, telling him quietly into his neck, “I only want to be with you.”

“And what if it goes bad? What if I hurt you again?”

“We’re going to hurt each other, Daryl. What matters is we try and we stay. That’s it.”

He faces you now. His nose brushes against yours, your foreheads connect, it makes your eyes flutter shut. Your tears are drying the longer he holds you like that and everything feels so warm. Your heart, your brain, your cheeks and his fingertips against them. It makes you feel it again, that fearlessness— you kiss him. Gently touching his jaw, your chin moves upwards, your mouths opens, your lips twist so softly with his, you already can’t breathe, and then you let go.

As he looks at your face, he smiles, realizing he’s seeing the girl he used to know again. His sunshine girl with the stars in her eyes. They’re shining up, still half sad and glossy, but the bright lights are slowly coming back on. His dream is back. She’s real. You’re real. You’re trying, you’re staying, so will he.

He takes your neck and kisses you this time. His tongue slips in, you’re so surprised, you gasp into his mouth. It makes you both smile into the kiss. You come closer and he helps you into his lap, allowing you to lean in. His hands go to your waist and yours to his shoulders. Then one of his hands runs up to your hair and your opposite hand does the same to him. You want to touch each other everywhere now.

Then he feels the ribbon, the black one. It makes him stop.

You’re worried, “What happened?”

He holds the piece of hair that the ribbon is secured to, it’s only a little part, the rest of your hair is down, and he undoes the bow, discarding it to the ground. Your hair falls messily over your ears and down your neck. “You don’t need that anymore.”

Daryl pushes your hips and you sit on the floor again. He’s reaching in his pocket, and you can’t believe it, it’s another one. A dark ruby, maybe a silky burgundy one it was in color— it was another ribbon.

“How long have you had that?”

“Since I found the other one.” He shrugs, “I thought the first one was better.” This one had fraying on one end, unraveling just a bit.

You would have said that you could sew it later, but you didn’t, you said only what mattered: “It’s perfect.”

Daryl doesn’t argue. This is him trying, he takes the win.

He doesn’t know how to put it nicely in your hair, how you do it with the different styles, so he just wraps all of your hair in a ponytail, just like last time, tying it into a bow.

It feels like a gift, not just because he gave it to you and not because it looks like a decoration on top of one, but it is all of it— this moment, the conversation— it all feels like breathing new life into something you worried might be slowly withering and dying. You exhale, it felt so nice to feel him so close, to feel his fingers run through your hair, to feel his breath on your skin.

“Think maybe this suits you better now,” he says, and maybe it always has.

He leans back against the wall and you lay your head and back in the crux of his knees and chest. You look up into his eyes and he does the same right down at you. There was more work to be done, more fighting to endure, but for now, you lay there as if you were the only two in the world. In a moment of sweet understanding; in a moment of love. You could finally admit it to yourself now, you were absolutely and monumentally in love.

… I could go on forever ♡ perhaps this can be a mini-series where I post one when I think of another and you can feel free to request a trinket you think Daryl would give the reader and I’ll post it and respond or even write a blurb for it and add it to the list if it’s a good fit! Thank you for reading. ⋆｡°✩

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fluff #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #writella’s sfw section

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steddiealltheway · 9 months

Text

Part Three of Six of Meddling ;). Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Nancy drives the four of them to whatever mystery location as Steve has a minor freak out in the backseat because it’s finally hitting him that he kissed Eddie. And Eddie kissed him back. And that’s not something he wants to just breeze over and pretend never happened.

How will things ever be the same after this?

Steve runs a hand through his hair as reality hits a little too hard.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers as his hand moves to rest on Steve’s knee.

Steve glances down at the hand and squeezes it once before he replies, “Yeah.” But he knows his smile is a little too forced based on the way Eddie’s staring back at him with concern.

The car slows to a halt.

“We’re here!”

Steve glances out the window, and it suddenly hits him. They’ve taken them to the bar where they first met.

“Throwback,” Eddie breathes out.

It had been a while since they had been back there. Things had changed over the past three years, and they had found a new bar with better acoustics for Eddie to play at when he isn’t hogging the small stage at the café where he works.

Still, sometimes Steve misses the place where some of his best memories had formed.

Once they get inside, nostalgia hits Steve in a way that’s almost bittersweet. Eddie must be feeling the same way based on the low whistle he lets out next to him as they look around. Nothing has really changed since they were last here.

“We’re going to grab a table away from you guys but remember to take pictures and just text whenever you want to head out. But this is our lunch plan so eat up,” Robin says with a big smile before grabbing Nancy’s hand and pulling her to a far corner spot.

“I’m kind of relieved that they’re not sitting with us,” Eddie admits as he and Steve walk to the opposite part of the somewhat dead bar. “Can’t wait to get that camera out of my face. I just hope they don’t try to sneak pictures of us while we’re eating.”

Steve snorts. That sounds exactly like something Robin would do, so he does his best to find a booth where he can’t see the girls and vice versa. He eventually points at one and sits across from Eddie, and the sight of him thoroughly distracts him from any thoughts about Nancy or Robin.

Eddie pulls out his phone and sets it down on the table. He taps on it once and asks, “What if we only did a cheesy picture of each other before we eat, with our food, and a quick selfie after we finish? Then we can just live in the moment and enjoy this.”

Steve sticks out his hand for Eddie to shake. “Deal.”

Eddie grabs his hand and presses a quick kiss against the back of it. “Deal,” he agrees with a wink.

A blush starts to creep up on Steve’s face, so he ducks his head and grabs his phone – but he knows he’s not being subtle about trying to hide his face. As a new means of distraction, he hits the camera icon and quickly snaps a picture of Eddie without warning. “Pre-date picture done.” Oh, why did he have to call it a date?

Eddie luckily brushes off his little blunder and scoffs, “No, you have to redo that. You gave me no warning!”

Steve just laughs as Eddie pouts. Next thing he knows, Eddie’s phone is coming up and snapping a picture of him. Steve freezes. “Hey, that’s unfair.”

Eddie snorts and presses on the picture. He frowns at it before turning his phone around. “Why do you always have to be so photogenic?”

The picture is... very telling of everything Steve is feeling. He can practically see the joy and love radiating off himself in a way he hasn’t seen before. It’s terrifying.

Eddie turns the phone back and clicks around a few times before proudly smiling and turning his phone off.

“What?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. But could you check the time on my phone?” Eddie asks, sliding it over.

It’s a weird request, but Steve goes through with it, tapping on the screen. “It’s...” he trails off before he sees the time.

His smiling face stares back at him as it covers the lock screen on Eddie’s phone. He glances up at Eddie who watches him somewhat anticipatorily. Steve doesn’t say anything, but he unlocks his own phone and immediately changes his lock screen to the picture he took of Eddie.

It’s cuter than Steve thought it would be considering that he took Eddie off guard. He isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he’s smiling softly at Steve with his dimples on full display. The only thing wrong with it is that it’s a little bit blurry, but he thinks it adds to Eddie’s general vibe.

It’s the perfect lock screen really although he thinks Robin and Dustin might kill him for kicking them off it.

It’s worth it.

As Steve slides his phone to Eddie, a waiter comes by and introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Tony, I’ll be your waiter today. And the ladies over in the corner told me you two were celebrating an anniversary today?”

Oh, no. Even from a distance, the two are meddling as much as they can. Steve is about to say no when Eddie replies, “Yes, it’s been three years since we first met in this very bar, and two years since we started dating.” He leans in toward the waiter all conspiratorially and stage whispers, “Give it a year, and I’ll probably be back to propose to him right here.”

Steve chokes on his saliva.

“Sorry, babe, did I say that too loud?” Eddie asks with a big smile. He turns back to the waiter. “He’s always telling me that I don’t know how to whisper.”

It’s true, but Steve can’t say very much as he keeps coughing.

“We’ll get two waters please,” Eddie says, starting to sound a bit concerned.

The waiter must be too because before Steve knows it, a glass of water is being placed in front of him and he’s chugging it down. Gosh, he wishes this were a beer.

Eventually, the coughing dies down, and Steve shoots an apologetic look at the waiter. He just smiles back and politely asks, “Do you know what you want to order?”

Steve shakes his head and swipes the water off his mouth. “Haven’t looked at the menu yet, we were too busy... reminiscing.” Since when is he playing along with the lie?

“No worries. You two take your time and happy anniversary.” The waiter quickly dismisses himself, and Steve is left to stare at Eddie.

“Why would you do that?”

Eddie throws his hands up. “One, this is great practice for faking a relationship, lets us establish some backstory. And most importantly, two, celebrating an anniversary means a free dessert.”

“We’re at a bar, not a Chili’s.”

“There’s still the potential!” Eddie argues back. “Please, Steve, my love, my sweetheart, my muffin-”

“Please never call me your muffin ever again,” Steve says, cringing.

Eddie sighs but then a mischievous grin slowly appears on his face. This can’t be good. “I promise not to call you that if you pretend to be my boyfriend of two years during this lunch.”

The payoff is quite great, but he can’t let Eddie know that, So, Steve takes his time rolling his eyes and pretending to weigh the pros and cons of it all while Eddie shakes the table with how hard he’s bouncing his leg.

Steve reaches under the table and grabs his knee to still it. “You have yet another deal. But you have to stop shaking the table, too.”

“Sorry,” Eddie apologizes bashfully. He quickly moves on when he realizes Steve’s phone is still on the table and taps on the screen. He smiles at it and pushes the phone back. “Not as bad as I thought.”

“Not bad? It’s perfect,” Steve scoffs as he grabs one of the menus at the end of the table.

He doesn’t get a response, but Eddie is smiling at his menu when Steve glances up.

Eventually, they put in their food order and chat about random things just to catch up a bit although Steve talks to Eddie every day – usually in person but occasionally over text.

Then, Eddie randomly throws out the question, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Steve swallows hard and shakes his head. “No, are you?”

“No,” Eddie replies.

Steve tries and fails to hide a smile. They both know if they started dating someone the other would be one of the first to know, but it’s cute that Eddie asked.

Their food comes out, and their conversation halts for a bit while they eat. But the relationship conversation plays over and over again in Steve’s head until Eddie interrupts his thoughts. “Man, I can’t believe it’s only been three years since I met you.”

Steve laughs and finishes chewing his fry. “It feels like I’ve known you longer.”

“Technically you have, if you count all the times Dustin mentioned my name before we met.”

“Could’ve met sooner if I hadn’t been so afraid that you would be a weird nerd,” Steve teases him.

“Hey, you know I’m both of those things, so don’t say it like it’s an insult,” Eddie says with a smile.

“Well, I didn’t think those two things could be hot together, so excuse me for assuming,” Steve replies while shoving a fry into his mouth.

Eddie leans forward. “You think I’m hot?” he asks as if he’s teasing him, but Steve can hear a bit of the uncertainty in his tone, so instead of shaming himself for admitting it he shrugs.

“Always have.”

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds before he clears his throat and changes the subject, “You should’ve worn the yellow sweater.”

The comment startles a laugh out of Steve. “Of course you would bring that up. I’ve never understood your obsession with the thing.”

“Well, there’s a reason I brought it up now.”

“Oh really,” Steve says raising his eyebrows, not ready for whatever line Eddie has prepared. “And why’s that?”

“It’s what you were wearing when we first met,” Eddie says as if it’s nothing.

It takes Steve entirely off guard. His stomach does a little flip. “You remember what I was wearing after all this time?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says but quickly moves on to ask, “Speaking of that night, what happened to that girl you were with?” He looks away as he asks the question, taking one of Steve’s fries but still not looking him in the eye as he eats it.

Steve tries to shake off the little piece of information Eddie just gave up as thinks back. He shrugs. “Nothing happened there. I was actually on a date with her that night. She left after we met. Told me I should go out with you instead since I hadn’t paid her any attention since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Eddie glances back up at him, holding so much intensity in his gaze. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“Because I didn’t think I had a chance and didn’t want to risk getting my heart broken.”

Eddie stares at him, and Steve thinks that they both feel it. All the time they lost that they could’ve potentially spent together if Steve would’ve said something three years ago. But maybe Eddie is thinking something entirely different.

“Steve-”

“Hi, I hope everything is tasting alright. Also, I have a dessert on the house for you two. Happy anniversary, and I hope to see you two next year,” the waiter says as he slides the check on the table. Steve swears that he has the same bad timing as Robin and glares at the man as he turns his back.

“Steve-” Eddie tries again, but then, speak of the devil, Robin is suddenly scooting into the booth next to him and making grabby hands at the dessert.

“I love free dessert,” she says. “Thanks for going through with it. I thought it would be good practice.” It’s a clear lie based on the way she’s staring at the chocolate cake.

Nancy gives Steve an apologetic smile as Robin steals his spoon and digs in.

Steve shoots Eddie a look trying to convey, we’ll talk later.

He gets a sad smile in response, then they both pick up their forks and take a bite of the cake. Steve can barely enjoy it as he knows that the fate of his and Eddie’s relationship might rely on their next conversation. But Nancy and Robin also won’t leave them alone.

This is not good.

Part Four

Tag List :

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie fanfic

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natalievoncatte · 11 months

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“Your son just kicked me, Miss Luthor-Danvers.”

Kara looked over to the couch, where Lena bad stopped reading her book, which now lay propped on the dome of her stomach. She looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, marring paler than usual skin.

The pregnancy was taking its toll on Lena, but just as difficult for Lena was the order to remain on pelvic rest, as were the Herculean caloric requirements of gestating a Kryptonian child on Earth. Lena Luthor was the type of woman who grew more fatigued from orders to lay up in bed, and Kara had to practically bat her phone out of her hand to stop her from answering emails at all hours of the night.

Kara swung out from behind the kitchen island, carrying another smoothie with a carefully selected mix of fruits, vegetables, and protein powder.

“Blegh,” Lena said, as she choked down a gulp of the stuff. Does it have to be so sweet?”

Kara didn’t answer. Lena looked haggard by her own usual standards, but to Kara, she was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Yes, she was pale, but there as a rosy glow in her cheeks and though she sighed and complained and groused, rarely had there been such joy in her eyes. One of Kara’s new favorite things was catching Lena unawares, finding her smiling at nothing and cradling protective arms around the new life coming to being within her.

After she gulped down the last of the thick, gloppy shake -which Lena had given the appetizing name of ‘nutrient slurry mark one’, she turned halfway on the couch.

“There he goes again,” said Lena, sighing.

Kara reached out with a trembling hand, resting it gently on the warm curve of Lena’s skin. She went quiet for a moment, forcing back the tears. Thinking about this overwhelmed her. She’d never dreamed she’d really have this, much less with the most beautiful and kind woman she’d ever known. A soft twitch against her palm made her grin from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I’d like to get some sleep.”

Kara chewed at her lip for a moment.

“What if I try singing to him?”

Lena raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Alex gave me an article that says that babies can hear us while they’re in the womb.”

Lena’s head fell back against the cushions.

“Do you know any lullabies?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as Kara worked herself up, pulling the words from the lost days of her youth, across an ocean of stars beneath a far distant sun.

She more spoke than sang at first, until her voice grew into something soft and light, like a rare flower opening its petals to greet the sun. By the time she really began to sing, Lena was smiling, listening intently.

Kara dug deep in her memory for the words to the traditional Kryptonian lullaby, a promise from a young mother to her child lost in the wilderness, an invocation to come home safe to loving arms before the reunited in the final verses.

When Kara finished she looked up and saw that Lena was fast asleep, her hand now resting atop Kara’s as it rested on Lena’s belly. Tenderly, Kara drew her hand back and, with practiced ease, raised Lena in her arms and carried her back to the bedroom, another Kryptonian verse flowing softly from old memories, and the eventually they slept, until sunrise.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #it’s not all angst all the time sometimes we need a break #basically a glass of chocolate milk in prose form #moms make the best dads

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jmliebert · 5 months

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✿HALSIN HEADCANONS✿

his love language involves touch, a quiet yearning, and deep respect

soft touches

despite their size and strength, his hands are surprisingly delicate and warm; he's a healer after all. when he's massaging your sore neck, his eyes are focused, and his moves are skilful, leaving you melting under his caring touch

on the flip side Halsin finds deep joy in the tender act of having his hair played with, often gently humming or dozing off during this exchange

also he gives you a lot of tender kisses on your shoulder from behind, saying he loves you

yearning and worshipping

he loves to cherish you with his words, but I feel that at heart, Halsin is a silent watcher, always observing, always admiring. his eyes full of admiration, never cease to appreciate the beauty before him

there is no shame with him; he'd be truly devastated if you hid anything from him, as he adores your body, viewing it as a *nature gift*

with him, you're free to be yourself because he sees more than just your body. whether you are small or big in size, whether you have pubic hair or not, and regardless of your gender, he doesn't care about these

absolutely, one thing that genuinely matters to him is that you have a healthy body; it's something he sees and cares about

if you're a woman, he might be particularly drawn to wider hips. they seem to resonate with his druidic connection to nature and the cycle of life, evoking a sense of fertility that he finds appealing

the allure of nature sparks a fire within him. your naked body glistening in the river's, skin shining under the sun or moonlight, makes him easily aroused . in close embrace, his hot passion manifests, as you are feeling something hard and willing against your thigh...

sex

well, let me just say it that it's hard to make Halsin shy

he's into breeding and can play for a long time if you know what I mean

he couldn't get enough of you at times, restless whenever near you

he's strong, and this strength often manifests in bed. he enjoys experimenting with positions that require physical power, effortlessly lifting you as if you weighed nothing

also very open to trying new things, as long as both you and he are comfortable with it (mutual respect- remember?). would never force you to do something you don't like, he would hate to make you uncomfortable like this

if you were pregnant he would be aroused all the time seeing your swollen belly, symbol of your fertility

from time to time he takes you rough from behind

making a lot of noises, loud ones, almost animalistic. his head bowed and groaning straight into your ear, making your feral

if you were pregnant he would be aroused all the time seeing your swollen belly

after all, he enjoys having you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your sweaty skin against his, and he always wakes up before you ready for another round or sweet cuddles, bye :')

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡

#halsin #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate halsin #halsin headcanons #halsin x tav #halsin x you #bg3 halsin imagine #halsin imagine #intimate halsin #halsin daddy #bg3

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bu-blegh-ost · 6 months

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Okay so this has been eating at me so much. That last scene between Gillion and Zamia in ep. 112.

-See? You didn't have anything to be worried about. Looks like you found yourself a new oath, paladin.

-How have you done it? Being so devoted to your oath?

-I think when things seem worse, when things seem dark, I...look around. And never far from me is someone to remind me what I'm fighting for. [looks at Chip and Jay]

-So your power comes from people you care for too, then?

And this is when Gillion starts stammering really hard and ends the conversation, as if something horrible were to happen if he admitted to it. Grizzly metions something about him almost becoming an Oath Breaker, and this makes me wonder what kind of oath Gillion is under to not be able to fight and draw courage and will to keep going from those he loves. And please mind, I do not have Patreron, so if more details were listed somewhere there, then I have no access to it, but the way I see it, whatever he was forced to swear that would make him react like that must have been an awfully cruel promise. To not be able to admit that other people give him strength, to have this burden of always distancing himself away from other's warmth. I don't think whatever oath Elders prepared for him all these years ago is worth keeping anymore, and it is inevitable for Gillion to realise it one day and finally break it. Break it, and make a new one, one that will allow him to devote himself to the ones who were always by his side, just like Zamia did.

Do you think he was thinking about it? About his own place in the world among the joy of celebration? He felt excitement and happiness for the girls of course, but maybe a pang of jealousy too? A pang of emptiness? When he said to them "May you both be each other's destinies," it felt...important. It felt like words that carried weight to them. Because Gillion doesn't say the word "destiny" lightly anymore. But he was sincere in it. There is nothing more beautiful than to dedicate one's destiny not to fate, or god, or a principle, but to a person. One you chose to walk the rest of your life with, one you chose on your own. I think about Gillion standing there between the two lovers, giving them a new beautiful purpose in life...and being left to wonder how ironic it is, that as the one standing here, making this possible, he feels like he has no purpose at all. That he is being led the path that slowly feels more and more meaningless, and that the only reason he does want to keep going is because of the people he is not allowed to love. How when he talks to Jay, he says he hopes that the two of them finding him was just a coincidence. How much he wants their love, and how much he wants to give back in return, but how he is so, SO afraid, that everything they've been through together is something he was forced into as well, that it's not real. But he wants it to be so bad. Because he loves them so much it hurts. Because he can't bear to carry this burden anymore without them. Because he's lost and all he wants is for them to reach for him and hug him and take his hand and walk gently with him through the path of their own making.

He wants to do all of that so bad, but he can't.

Somehow, he just can't.

Not yet.

But one day, he will.

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #gillion jrwi #gillion tidestrider #jay jrwi #jrwi spoilers #ep 112 #jrwi riptide spoilers #spoilers #also if someone has more information what part of what Gillion said would be considered breaking the oath pls do share #like i'm dying to know #i need to know

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anantaru · 1 year

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— is he jealous?

is he jealous? feat. albedo, heizou, venti, scaramouche x gn! reader

genre: fluff, slightly possessive but not detailed

— albedo

albedo isn't the type to usually get jealous, you could say he's quite unbothered and trusts you fully, he doesn't see the point in being wary about his s/o whereabouts or doings at all.

in his eyes, those emotions would only lead to problems in your relationship later on.

as the chief alchemist of the knights of favonius, he obviously was overblown with huge piles of work on a daily basic. It was important to him that you gave him enough space and so did he, automatically give you space as well.

it's all about trust and confiding in your s/o in order for a relationship to properly bloom and flourish.

yet unbeknownst to you, albedo could become quite protective, not in a possessive way but in a worrying one. With the things he had experienced in the past he ought to make sure nothing would ever happen to you under his watch.

for him, you're his everything, you're family.

that sheer, strong love he held towards your person wasn't only a direct indicator for your relationship, but for the new branch in his newfound life and he'd rather let something happen to himself than let you suffer.

bear in mind, something he values the most would be communication too. Albedo would appreciate it if you were to tell him what you had planned today and where you're headed.

of course he wouldn't force you nor does he want to know every single little detail of your daily schedule, it's just a slight reminder for him to know what you're up to while he was drowning in his work load.

consider it a safety measure on top of that, so he knows where you are should something happen so he can right away, find you.

in the end his overall jealousy level wouldn't be able to be measured, but his protective nature would be a solid 6/10.

— heizou

as a matter of fact, heizou could become quite jealous but it depended on the situation he found himself in with you.

for starters, he trusts you completely, it's also safe to say that if his s/o would lie to him about something, heizou most likely will be able to deduct the truth almost immediately, in a single heart beat.

clearly he wasn't the easiest to get along with in that aspect.

as a detective for the tenryou commission he couldn't help it but be encountered with numerous evil run ins during his work hours.

his mind was clear as day yet the thought of you finding someone better would cross his thoughts ever so often.

most people in inazuma knew of his rebellious and hard to get along with personality and once he got to meet and love you, it's as if life gradually became easier in a sense he couldn't quite decipher.

take notice, because how often does it happen for someone like heizou to simply not be able to deduct something?

it was as if a large quantity was lifted off his tense shoulders, to finally have found someone who accepted him just as he was with nothing else in mind.

if someone was to approach you in a flirty manner, he trusted you enough to not turn your back on him. So it's safe to say that the emotion he would experience rather than jealousy would surely be the sheer fright of losing you.

whenever you would notice that heizou was trapped in his mind by those irrelevant thoughts that tinkered within his cleverness, you would make it your duty to show him that he was the only person that made you happy.

bristling his pride and ego, you would continue to tell him how talented he was in many fields, not to mention that his humor was perfectly matching yours.

as his eyes began to roam with happiness and joy again, all is but the more forgotten, in the end heizou really just needs a confirmation from you. his overall jealousy level would be a 5/10.

— venti

one would think venti was the unbothered type, but he actually was of a jealous type, not the biggest out there of course, but still quite dominant in that particular aspect.

however, he wouldn't show it to you, venti thinks it's kind of embarrassing or shameful? he didn't want you to think he doesn't trust you because he did.

in fact, he trusted you the most.

as needy for attention and clingy as venti could be, he wasn't expecting you to gift him the entirety of your time.

but he adored spending his day with you regardless so when someone like the oh so cool diluc or the oh so beautiful lisa would seem to make you laugh, with your giggles sounding slightly different, just a bit, his working mind began to trifle in afterthoughts.

if he isn't busy himself, which he mostly isn't anyways, venti will straight up join whatever you're doing. He can be quite a handful and start to annoy you too, maybe poke your shoulder or playfully nudge his elbow into you.

anything for you to take your goddamn attention of diluc, lisa or whoever dared to waste your time, because lets be honest here for a second, only he's allowed to waste your precious time.

right?

until you're smacking some clear sense into him, venti will continue to do just that, even the almighty anemo archon can be wholly insecure.

who would‘ve thought?

as someone who hasn't experienced many relationships in the past he didn't want to mess his current one up nor lose you in the process.

his jealousy level is a good 6-7/10 but it's also mostly him being bored when he annoys you so it depends on where he finds himself in every day.

— scaramouche

i'm certain that by now, most know that in regards to jealousy, scaramouche's relationship to that particular emotion can be quite tricky and complex.

obviously he doesn't see the point in sharing his s/o, you're his and honestly, if someone would want a s/o as well they should just search for one instead of bothering you.

will stay especially near to you, arguing with scaramouche is as if you meet a dead end, there is no victory to be claimed by you, he will just go silent in an instant and brush off whatever you have to say about this topic.

but it's important to note that if someone were to approach you, he's quick to speak on your behalf, a snarky remark being the first of many little grunts and groans he'd exclaim while that irritating person talked to you.

what was even the reason for that in the first place?

did they not see you're in accompaniment, by him? doesn't he look threatening enough or what‘s the deal?

don't be fooled though, scaramouche wasn't the kind who'd start throwing fists and smacks to whoever dares to meet your gaze, he'd be quite well reserved and will mostly rely on his snarky, cheeky remarks.

normally, if it's a person he knows you're well acquainted with, like a close friend, his profile will stay low. Scaramouche won't interfere in your conversation either, in his eyes it's both annoying and unnecessary to force a dialogue.

so above all, he has got you figured out, he knows how you think and what your little quirks are, so the second he notices you being made uncomfortable by someone, you clearly don't have to worry anymore because he will make sure said person isn't bothering you ever again.

if we talk about jealousy it's a 7/10, bear in mind that this specific emotion stems from the fear to lose you and it‘s huge. For a while it will become challenging with some instances never fading at all.

his pure fear wouldn't be able to be measured with anything.

scaramouche had to face sorrowful, dejected situations in the past so he was really trying to be a good boyfriend to you, with all of his might.

certainly he wasn't new to display possessive behavior every once in a while but he surely gets better at simply trusting you more and the crucial fact that you won't leave him, ever, wouldn't matter what he did, you will stay and that was the key.

you were his heart after all.

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verus-veritas · 9 months

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Out of the Woods

Another hot story by @bodyswapper that seemed to have been removed recently. Once again I couldn’t help myself and remade the story, with my own twists and ending! Also, featuring the incredibly hot “Seattle Dad”, which you should definitely check out!

My best friend Chris and his family were preparing for their two-weeks getaway at the lake cabin. His parents said that I would not be able to come so Chris and I were bummed. However, a day before the trip Chris came up with an idea to get me to tag along. When Chris presented me with using an ancient body swap spell he had stumbled upon I was skeptical at first, but I eventually decided to agree. I had secretly always found his father quite handsome, so if it actually worked it would be very interesting being in his Dad's burly mature body.

The day arrived, and Chris and his father headed out to the cabin first. I was so nervous and waited for the text for Chris to let me know he was going to use the spell. I got a notification from Chris and locked myself in my room to get ready. I was waiting for something to happen and instantly a surge of energy rippled me, and my soul jolted forward.

I finally snapped to and felt my body lurch upright while taking a lot of force to lift myself up. I was now inhabiting the body of Chris's handsome father. I locked eyes with Chris through my new deeper blue eyes.

"Whoa, this is insane," Chris exclaimed, staring at me, who now occupied his father's bigger, flabbier, and hairy body. "What's it like? How does it feel being in my dad's body?"

I was trying to find my bearings, and blinked a few times before responding. "It's...different, man" I paused, noticing the gravelyness of my voice. "This body feels more experienced, like it has seen a lot in life. And the hair? Well' I can feel the breeze on the stubble" I chuckled, rubbing my thick hands across my sweaty forehead.

We took a moment to absorb the nature of their situation before cracking open a few drinks and settling into the comforts of the lake cabin. The initial shock transformed into laughter and camaraderie as I began to relax in my new frame.

Hours passed, filled with laughter, shared stories, and the simple joy of being together. Chris kept commenting that my mannerisms became more similar to his fathers, and I was feeling it as well. It just felt so damn comfortable being in his father's body and leaning into that persona.

However, our enjoyment came to an abrupt halt when Chris's Dad's phone rang. We shared a scared glance, and I was feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I picked up the phone, answering it in Chris's Dad's serious tone, and realized it was Chris's Mom, or rather my ex-wife. At that moment, I had to embody the role of Chris's father, pretending to be Chris's Dad. To my surprise, I found himself slipping into the role effortlessly, and putting on a show. I even began to feel the emotion of Chris's Dad as I talked and said I miss you to his little sisters, or my daughters. They lived with their mom, so the summer getaway was the only opportunity for us to meet, Chris had explained earlier.

I hung up the phone and had the largest smile on my face. I kept rubbing my beard, enjoying the scruffiness and coarseness of it. "I did it, man! I pulled it off! Your mom didn't suspect a thing. I never knew I had it in me."

Chris beamed back, impressed by my performance. "Who knew you were gonna be able to pull it off this well,” Chris chuckled. “It's like you've been my dad all along.” When he said that my cock grew firm, as I truly began to feel like I am his father. Now, I was getting excited for the rest of the family to come up and see how well I could keep up with the charade of being Chris's father.

I was also dying to find a time to sneak off to the bathroom to feel down my new larger flesh, but I didn't want to raise suspicion to Chris on what I was doing. I was gonna wait till we went to bed and then explore his Father's form a little more closely.

- Several Days Later -

It had been a few days since Chris used the spell to swap me into his Dad’s body. At first, it was really strange walking around in this much older, taller, and heavier body, but I quickly got the gist of it. Although I was still nervous when the rest of the family came and I had to pretend to be Chris’s father. There were some obvious fumbling and embarrassing moments at first, but by the end of the evening no one seemed to mind or took notice. It was almost like I had somehow gone a quick-course on how to truly embody his father. It certainly helped that Chris helped me out here and there, as he gave me small hints and showed me recordings of how his dad normally acted whenever we were alone.

I also noticed that every day that passed I seemed to lean more and more into the persona of Chris’s Dad. I even developed his gait, unconsciously let out his hearty chuckles, and found myself more interested in fishing. At some points even Chris seemed unable to differentiate me from his father, as evident by one morning when I sat in the kitchen drinking my morning coffee and reading the newspaper when Chris came down and started eating his breakfast completely ignoring me.

When I asked him what we were doing today, he answered me with the same snappy attitude he always gave his dad for annoying him. It took a few minutes of me staring at him amusingly before I saw the panic in his eyes as he realized what he had done. “Thank god it’s only a few more days…” He had quickly tried to recover himself, though I could tell there was some slight worry left in his voice.

It wasn’t until the first evening when everyone had gone to sleep in their separate bedrooms that I fully had a chance to explore my new self. I was so thankful that Chris’s parents had divorced a few years back and slept in separate rooms, which gave me the master bedroom all to myself.

It was strange… yet exhilarating as I stood in front of the full-body mirror and inspected the reflection of Chris’s Father.

I started exploring his weary yet handsome face, his thick beefy arms, and his hairy chest, as some quiet moans escaped my lips. I found myself running his big hands across the pelt on his chest, brushing past the bush on his cheeks, and ending my journey on the thin layer of hair on his head. The sight of Chris’s shirtless furry dad being so mesmerized by himself somehow made me incredibly hard, so I quickly unbuckled the belt and let the worn jeans slip onto the floor. I gasped out in delightful shock as the thick and massive cock bounced up and down, while a few drops of precum had already begun to leak out.

Something changed within me at that moment, something deep inside telling me this was all I ever wanted. I knew then - I was in love with this body, and the act of embodying Chris’s Father.

I didn’t sleep one second that night, as I found myself on the king-sized bed exploring, fondling, and worshiping the hairy, big body that belonged to Chris’s father. I had to sit out the hunting trip the morning after because of severe back pain, which was most likely caused by all the arching from the several orgasms I had during the night…

Every single night before sleep I would find myself standing in front of the bedroom mirror, slowly take off all my clothes, and stare excitedly at the burly dad bod. I would slowly caress the thick muscles, squeeze the fat around the stomach, and grip the hardened cock firmly. The jerking always began slow and passionately, but ended in a fierce frenzy of sweat, spit, and cum. Every single time was just as hot, different, and intoxicating. It was almost as if I was getting an addiction - of being Chris’s Dad.

One evening as I stood there in front of the mirror and breathed in a day’s worth of musk this body had produced, when a memory suddenly came to me, of a few words that Chris had said the first day I had swapped with his father: “It's like you've been my dad all along…”

Those words echoed within me, within my heart… and within my very soul. I began to imagine what my whole life would have been like if I was born in this body; the childhood I had, the friends I made, even the partners I went through. I then began to imagine what life would be like from now on if I somehow kept this body; the job I had to learn, the family I would have to love, and the wild nights I would experience. I don’t know what came over me at that point, as I leaned against the reflective surface of the mirror and gave my reflection a few kisses while staring intensely into the eyes of Chris’s naked drooling dad.

“What if I have been you all along… What if I was always meant to be you… What if being you for the rest of my life is all I ever wanted…” I murmured to myself in a low and husky voice, right before I exploded and coated the entire mirror with Chris’s Dad’s sticky semen. I quickly cleaned it up, with my tongue.

An opportunity came one day when Chris and most of the family had to go on a supply run. As soon as they were gone I made my way inside my friend’s messy room and began rummaging around. It took a few minutes before I managed to find the notebook which he had scribbled the ancient body swap spell in. It detailed a sacred ritual to be performed as well as an incantation of foreign language. I could only understand a bit of it, but from what I understood Chris’s Dad would think and act exactly as me during the swap, which relieved some of my worries over what I thought of doing next. At first I had thought of just ripping the page out and throwing it away, but that would make Chris suspicious. Instead, I took an eraser and erased three of the words off the incantation, before rewriting some similar-looking words in their stead. Chris was always impressed at how well I could copy his hand-writing. Of course, I also scribbled the correct words of the incantation down on another paper, just in case. As I left the notebook and Chris’s room in the exact state as when I came in, I was already leaking profusely in my pants.

With the two-week getaway soon coming to an end, Chris began discussing how he would swap me and his father back into our rightful bodies. He decided he would do it the night before they left, as his dad and I slept. Chris explained that the ancient body swap spell had to be performed correctly and precisely, as even the smallest error could ruin the process and cause unimaginable consequences. Such as us being stuck as bodiless spirits or me somehow being stuck as his Dad for good…

- THE Night -

It was a quarter before midnight on the night before we would leave. I had just taken a long hot shower and scrubbed my big hairy body clean from the filth of the day. Staring back at me in the bathroom mirror was the dripping wet reflection of Chris’s Father sensually running his hands through the pelt of fur on his chest. This was it, the moment of truth. I had to decide if I was really going through with this. I had no idea what would come, nor the consequences that would follow from messing with Chris’s spell. All I knew was that I wanted to stay this way; to keep this incredibly hairy and sexy body all to myself and to continue playing the role of Chris’s Father… possibly forever.

Determined, I picked up the piece of paper from the notebook a few days prior and scrunched it up into a ball. With a long deep breath I dropped it into the toilet and flushed it down. Its scribbled content and possibly my only way of returning back to my old life and body, forever gone.

Just as discussed with Chris earlier, I walked into the bedroom and laid my big heavy body down on the bed. I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep, but my mind was racing and my heart was pounding out of my hairy chest. I was anxious, scared, and excited, all at the same time, as I watched the bedroom clock strike midnight. At first nothing happened, so I gave off a breath of relief.

However, soon enough a strange sensation coursed through me. It was as if Chris’s Dad’s entire body began glowing and everything slowed down. My senses dulled, my limbs became numb, and I felt as if a big unending void opened up within me. An eerie blue-ish smoke began emerging from my hairy chest and rose up towards the roof. I simply watched on in both horror and fascination as the wispy smoke quickly shifted and transformed into the shape of my old self. As if carried away by some higher calling, the smoke phased through the roof and disappeared… leaving me laying there on the bed in complete bewilderment.

The void within me felt even larger now, as if my whole being was empty and without reason. My thoughts went to the smokey shape that had resembled my former self, but for some reason it felt bizarrely foreign, as if I no longer recognized it as my own. I tried to think of my own name, my old life, and my former body, but it all felt so distant. It was a feeling of grasping at something which no longer existed; a life and an identity no longer my own. Somehow the botched spell had drained me of my sense of self, but left my mind and consciousness still attached to Chris’s father’s burly body!

I barely had time to finish my thoughts when some red-ish smoke suddenly emerged from the roof. I immediately recognized the wispy form being in the shape of Chris’s Dad. His big hairy sleeping body with its bearded tranquil face slowly descending towards me, as if attracted to the flesh I currently inhabited. I could’ve tried to move out of the way, I could’ve resisted against it entering me… but instead I opened my arms and embraced it welcomingly. When the wisp of smoke finally entered me, yet another strange sensation washed over me. The void within me was suddenly filled and I felt warm and complete again. I felt as if I was home, as if everything was right in the world. The name of Chris’s Dad echoed within my mind repeatedly: “Hank Warrens… Hank Warrens… Hank Warrens…”. The name felt so suited for me, so comfortable, almost as if I had always been called by that name. I realized then that I had fully absorbed Chris’s father’s sense of self. His name, his identity, his whole being… now belonged to me whether I wanted it or not! No matter how you looked at it, I was truly Chris's Dad, Hank Warrens now!

The sound of rustling was heard from the master bedroom door, and as I peered over I briefly saw the shape of Chris running off. He had decided to check in on me to see if the spell had properly worked, to make sure that we had returned to our own bodies. Which meant Chris most likely witnessed the moment his dad’s smokey form reunited with its burly body, under the assumption that it was the reversal process of the body swap. As far as he would know, the spell went off without a hitch and his father was back in his rightful body. That I, Hank Warrens, was back in my rightful, big, hairy, and sexy dad body…

As soon as the sound of Chris’s footsteps in the hallway quieted down, I immediately looked down at the incredible body laid out in front of me.

The hairy chest, the thick muscles, and the girthy member, they were all mine now. To touch, to squeeze, to taste, whenever and wherever I desired. Not to mention that wonderfully musty scent that oozed from my hairy armpits from the bed underneath. All these sensations and sights felt so familiar to me now, as if they had been mine all along. “It’s really like I’ve been you all along, Hank…”

I have no idea what the future holds for me now as Chris’s father, nor how I’ll deal with the situation if I’m ever found out by others… but I’m beyond excited to be dealing with it as the incredibly hairy and thick daddy Hank Warrens.

Well, maybe not as excited as my incredibly girthy and rock-hard cock right now, which is desperately yearning for my firm touch. Let's just hope I won't be too tired for the car trip home tomorrow… otherwise I'll just have to stay another day here in the cabin with my son Chris…

#bodyswap #dad #thick #hairy #absorption #magic #identity theft #selflove #permanent

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runningmunson · 2 years

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My Fierce Lady - Part 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: After the events of your attack, you felt helpless. You asked Aemond to teach you to fight so you can gain some control back into your life and finally feel brave. Part 2 of My Fierce Lady. Warnings: traumatized reader, mentions of previous attack, use of a sword, slight angst, fluff, soft Aemond

Masterlist

Agony. You were in agony. Everything had been so different since you were attacked and forced to take a man’s life. Anyone would change if it had happened to them, you believed. Aemond reminded you daily that you are strong and brave, that you and your children were still alive and breathing, and that the man was in the ground where he belonged because of you. Yet you still lived in fear every day, terrified that someone would strike again, but you wouldn’t be so lucky.

That’s not to say that your husband and his family didn't try to make you feel safe. Your personal guards had been doubled. You were seldom left alone. You wouldn't step into your chambers, so they allowed you to move rooms. They exhausted resources to find whoever plotted to attack the Targaryen household. However, their attempts were futile. They never found who did it, and no matter what they did, you never truly felt safe.

Nightmares often plagued you. Too many nights you dreamed of Maelehra being murdered. You soon followed, only to be woken screaming and crying in the arms of Aemond as he tried to calm you. Your stress and anxiety were so severe that the maester put you on bed rest until the birth of your son.

You thought things would be better after you brought your son, Rhaegar, into the world, basking in the joys of a newborn, a male heir for your husband. You were sorely mistaken. The maester chalked it up to melancholy as your body adjusted to a new state of motherhood. The royal family tried to keep it hidden. Everything was always kept in the family, never wanted to reveal their personal weaknesses to outsiders. But it was hard to ignore the whispers around the Red Keep with rumors of you going crazy and behaving worse than your sister-in-law, Helaena.

You spent a lot of time with Helaena in her chambers, doing needlework as your children played on the floor together with the nannies. Rhaegar was usually fast asleep in his cradle. You had a feeling your mother-in-law, the Queen, had something to do with your time spent behind closed doors, not that you minded too much. You dearly loved Helaena and preferred her company over the other ladies in court.

—

For once, you were having a good day. Your anxiety was at bay and manageable. The children were behaving excellently. You knew everyone was safe, and you finally settled in once you checked several times that there were two guards outside the door.

“That looks quite lovely, sister! You stitch our sigil far better than I could,” Helaena’s eyes were wide as she smiled brightly, complimenting your work. You were working on embroidering the Targaryen sigil on a new dress for Mae.

“That is very kind of you to say. Your spider looks exquisite,” you smiled back at her. You genuinely meant it. While you did not share the same affinity for insects, you were always enthusiastic about her interests and ready to learn.

“Thank you, it’s a zebra spider. We have these in our garden,” she replied, then returned to her work.

It was relatively quiet in the room, with an occasional sound coming from the children. All your focus was on the dress until your concentration was broken. The door opened without anyone knocking, and an unknown man stepped inside the room.

You immediately stood up, a scream slipped from your lips. It startled your son awake, and he started crying. Your heart was racing, and you felt as if you could be sick. No, you thought, this cannot be happening again. As quick as you stood, you backed into a corner. You sat down with your hands over your ears and eyes tightly squeezed shut.

Helaena shooed the man out of the room and told the nannies to remove the children. She slowly approached you, afraid to disturb you even more. You could see her mouth moving but heard no sound. The only thing you could hear was ringing. Tears welled up in your eyes. She turned to the guards and demanded they go get her brother at once.

Aemond made his way to his sister’s chambers in record time. “I am so sorry, Aemond. It was a new servant, he didn't knock first.”

“It’s fine, Helaena.” He looked at you, seeing you in a catatonic-like state. Your hands had not moved from their spot on your head, but your eyes were now wide open, blankly staring at the wall. It made him angry to see you as a shell of what you once were, no longer the carefree and lively woman he fell in love with. He turned to his sister, “May you give us some space please?”

Helaena left the room, and Aemond made his way to you. He crouched down, blocking your vision of the wall. Your eyes finally focused when you saw your husband in front of you and not another stranger coming to kill you. He reached up to take your hands off your face, noticing the scratch marks your nails left behind. With your hands in his, he gently kissed the back of both.

“I’m here now, love. I got you. You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you,” he spoke in a soft, calming voice- one reserved for only you and your children. The words he spoke were familiar as he often said these like a mantra in the dark of your room after your nightmares. You threw yourself in his arms, catching him off guard as he almost fell. He steadied himself and pulled you in close, once more repeating those words.

When your heart was steady and mind clear, he pulled you up to the ground and led you to the comforts of your own chamber. As soon as the door was shut, you turned to him.

“I cannot do this any longer,” you said to him, voice cracking in desperation.

“Do what, my dear?” he questioned.

“Live in fear, no longer feeling safe in my own home. I wish to be free of this anguish! I want to feel as brave as you say I am. I want you to teach me how to fight,” you said to him. It was something you had thought about for some time but too afraid to address until now.

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly.

You knew it was unbecoming of a lady such as yourself to fight, but you were at a complete loss at what to do. It wasn’t as if Aemond thought that of you though. He always believed you could do anything you wanted. He never tried to control you or put you in your place unlike the other men of the court. Fighting could be dangerous, and he just wanted to protect you.

“Please, Aemond. I need this. If you love me, you will grant me this wish,” you begged him, grabbing his hands and looking into his eye. You needed nothing more than to gain back some control of your life.

He nodded his head, “Then I will do just that, I promise you.”

—

Aemond led you to an empty room in the castle. You were adorned in pants and a tunic, your hair in a single braid falling down your back. He was finally going to teach you how to fight with a sword.

When you made your way into the room, he shut the door behind you for privacy. You noticed a few weapons were already laid on a table. There was a dummy filled with sand in the middle of the room as well.

“Now, today we will learn the basics of defense, just a simple thrust and slice. Let’s go pick you a sword,” he walked over to the table. and you followed. You knew how heavy swords could be, having handled Aemond’s sword once to see what it was like and almost dropped it in the process.

He handed you several, having you do a few mock swings to see which one felt best in your hands. You picked a lighter sword, the blade a typical silver color with a black and red hilt. The pommel housed a blue jewel. How fitting, you thought when you noticed it was similar in color to the sapphire where your husband’s eye once was.

When you were satisfied with your choice, you made your way to the middle of the room where Aemond was waiting. With the sword placed tightly in your hand, he led you into the proper stance. He used his leg to move your feet where he wanted them. His back found its way flush against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist to straighten you out. The other helped you hold your sword to the correct height, pointing to where you needed to strike. Whiffs of your scent flooded his nose as he held you close. You were disappointed when he pulled away.

“Alright, keep that stance. This should be an easy one. Draw your arm back and simply thrust it forward,” he said, his hands placed firmly behind your back. He was intensely watching your every move, making you a bit nervous. You drew back the sword and plunged it into the chest of the dummy. When you removed the sword, sand spilled on the ground.

“Good, you have just defended yourself. Now put yourself back into the same position, and I’ll show you how to slice,” he explained the movements once more and let you do your thing.

You stood the way he told you, doing a spin to gain momentum before slicing either side of the dummy. Once more, sand flowed from the cuts. Aemond started clapping. You turned to smile at him, finally starting to feel a small amount of control for the first time since your attack.

“My, oh my. Who knew the Gods blessed me with a wife who is a natural in the art of the sword,” he smiled, looking proud.

You laughed, “ Well, I have watched you practice in the courtyard often, my dear husband. Maybe I can be as good as you one day.”

“I’ll make a fighter out of you in no time, my fierce lady.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff

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two-white-butterflies · 11 months

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fuck, rich people. fucks rich people. - h. strong and d. targaryen

Description: You visit the beach and find two men that you can't resist. In which, you end up fucking both men on the countertops. (modern au) Rating: Mature 18+ (double penetration, oral [m. recieving], threesome.)

Fuck, rich people. They always seemed to have a problem of their own - most of the times they're the ones who make the problem - which led to you being stressed about work.

The beach was your favorite place - hearing the sound of the waves crashing on the shore did miracles on your mental state. It was calming, and refreshing. It was a good thing that your parents bought this beach-house, as you were the only one enjoying this scenery.

You lean into the chair - breathing in the scent of salt in the wind. This was where you were meant to be. You take a lazy sip of the diet coke in your hands - perhaps you’d go on a swim a little later.

Someone moves from behind you, easing the thoughts off your head. You turn your head to look at the person - and it was Daemon, your childhood friend, and Prince of Dragonstone. “I didn’t think that you’d be here,” he chuckles, holding the foldable chair near his hips.

“I don’t think I’m ever not here,” your lips settle into a thin line.

You haven’t seen each other in ten-years, and by the gods was he hot. Handsome to the point that you’d expect him on the cover of Calvin Klein. He had that smile - that made you think that he just finished having sex. His hair is all over the place - but at the same time, it falls perfectly into place.

“How’s work?” he asked, folding the chair so he’d be sitting beside you. “Shit, as usual.” you answer - a chuckle escapes his mouth. “How about you? Still bothering the King?” you tease, remembering his bad-boy streak during university. He hasn’t changed - but he’s done a great job hiding his dirty laundry.

“Oh come on, Viserys loves me.” he defended himself, staring at you with lust. He was a fucking predator - a beast in heat when he’s around you.

“Only because he has to,” you sip on the straw, placing your phone on your lap - open for a conversation.

Just a conversation for now.

He pretends to search for something in his pockets, taking off his sunglasses to see better. “Shit, I totally forgot to bring any drinks - do you mind sharing?” he inquired and you nod.

Where was this going?

He scoots closer, bridging the wall between you. His hands reach for the can on your hand - taking his sweet moment once his hand settles on top of yours. You couldn’t remove your hands - some special force was preventing it.

He brings the can to his lips - coating the rim with his sweet saliva.

“Thank you,” he whispers, he removes his hand away from yours - to your surprise he wasn’t returning back to his chair. His hands were now reaching to cup your cheeks. He gives you a small kiss, letting go of you with a smile.

“I’ll see you sometime.” he whispers, standing up and retrieving his chair.

Working as a lawyer sucked - especially when your firm is one of the highest rated offices in New York City. You had to get out - somehow. You were on the beach the next day, but Daemon wasn’t there. His roommate, Harwin, was though - but you were unaware of this relationship.

“It’s nice here,” Harwin smiled, writing his name on the sand. He was a jolly person to be around - he seemed to uplift other people’s mood without realizing it. “I agree,” you breathe with a chuckle - now sipping on a glass of coffee.

You lend your hand - waiting for a handshake. “I’m (Your Name), I live in that house.” you point at the four-bedroom bungalow. He smiles at you - joy reaching his eyes. “I’m Harwin. Harwin Strong,” he shakes your hand, quickly inspecting your face. “I live in that house - I have a roommate.” he points at Daemon’s house and you nod.

He didn’t seem like the type of guy who gets a roommate. “It’s nice meeting you,” you smiled in return.

The devil possessed you - he lured you in with his kind smile, and now you were about to suck his cock inside a house that you weren't allowed to be in. Gods, the news outlets were going to fuck your reputation. "She's pretty huh?" Daemon tilted his head sideways, acting like you weren't in the room with them.

Harwin responded with an amused chuckle, watching you with your hands on his knees. He opened his legs wider, giving you a clearer view of his hard cock dripping with pre-cum. He cupped your cheeks gently, staring deep into your lust-filled eyes. The tabloids would have to wait - this cock in front of you was fucking delicious. You leaned down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss on his thighs.

"Good girl turning us on," Daemon growls playing with your hair - he's loved you since he was eighteen. All of his fucking teenage fantasies replayed back to this moment - his goddess on her knees like a slave.

Your tongue swirled around, pumping the mass inside your mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed. He could hardly speak with the heaven that he was feeling. You swirled your tongue around - making sure to reach every nerve ending on his penis. He moans your name, forgetting himself in the middle of bliss.

Daemon watches the both of you - turning himself on with the sight.

"Keep going," Harwin pleaded, wrapping his arms around your hair and pumping you on his length. His dick tasted salty and metallic - a faint reminder that he was human and that he tasted like a human. You gag around his length, taking your sweet time in adjusting.

You swirl your tongue again, smiling in content as his eyes flutter. Harwin was a good little boy. You licked the stripe of his length, sucking on his dick like a lollipop - fondling with your clothed pussy. They both turned you on.

You swirl your tongue.

Again.

Again and again, until his breathing heaved and tightened.

You could feel Daemon's hand on your head, bobbing you up and down the length of his roommates' dick. It only took a few moments until Harwin was spasming around your mouth.

"Open," Daemon commanded and you obeyed him - opening your mouth slightly to reveal the milky goodness underneath your tongue. He bites his lips, forcing his finger inside your mouth and splattering the cum inside. He removes his hand, wiping it on your face.

"Swallow, baby." Harwin ordered - and you found yourself obeying everything that they say.

You rise from your kneeling position.

Daemon welcomes you on top of his lap. You could feel his bulge press against you. He stares at Harwin who was still trying to regain his stance from his orgasm. "You good?" he inquires, wrapping his hands around your ass. Bouncy and firm like he likes them.

"Yeah," Harwin replies removing his shirt. "Get around her," Daemon motions, freeing his cock from his pants with ease. "You ever had two men at once," he teased, and you shake your head. "Prepare to be mind-blown," Harwin giggles, pressing his cock on your anus.

You lean slowly against Daemon's chest, providing Harwin with more angle - and Daemon lesser weight. You let out a small whimper, feeling Daemon enter your pussy. He groans feeling your tightness clamp against him.

"Dae," you moan - bouncing against him.

His tip was barely missing your womb, trailing along your cervix - making your eyes roll back.

Thank god for birth control.

He keeps pressing his cock inside - leaving you a moaning mess. He filled you with so much pressure that your cunny couldn't bare another second. You cum - squirting around his cock and leaving a white residue on his thighs.

You were about to collapse into him, but the familiar pressure began building once you feel Harwin behind you.

"Time for me, baby." he hums.

taglist: @schniiipsel @areaderinlove @edum123 @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @rozendiors @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @naturallyspontaneous @feyreduarte @hc-geralt-23 @ethereallocs @tired-ninfa

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justagalwhowrites · 6 months

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Hello, i love your work omg!! I had a request for another Joel angst <3 I had an idea where reader decides to sell Joel's watch in the QZ and gifting him a new one (obv not knowing the meaning behind the watch) Joel gets angry and reader becomes heartbroken and decides to look for the watch and gets rly injured by gangs in the QZ and Joel gets worried/goes after her!

OMG Hi Bestie!

You sent me this forever ago but I'm in love with this ask and then went totally overboard and ANYWAY here's the angstiest ask I've ever had, I hope you love it as much as I love you!!

The Watch

You try to do something kind for Joel but things backfire in a way you never expected.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: SMUT! Canon-typical violence. I did almost no proofing on this so... ya know. Basically no age-gap, reader is 3 years younger than Joel. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 12.2k (LOOK I'M SORRY OK I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME EITHER.)

March, 2010

Sometimes, you weren’t sure you knew Joel Miller at all.

It was a strange sensation, when you thought about it. You’d known him for almost three years now. You’d first met him and his brother, Tommy, when they moved in a few doors down from you in the Boston QZ. Both handsome, both around your age - Tommy a bit younger, Joel a bit older - both beat down by what the world had become.

But the last thing seemed to apply to everyone in the QZ. Life now was hard. That’s just the way it worked now, as much as you wished that weren’t the case.

You’d managed to land a relatively good job in the grand scheme of things. You were a chef before, you ran part of the kitchen at a ritzy banquet hall in the city. You were used to feeding a crowd and FEDRA definitely had a crowd to feed every day, what with guards and all.

It wasn’t much like it was before. There was very little joy in it, the process reduced to the barest minimum: Feed people so they stay alive. But you liked trying to find ways to make the food good, different from day to day. You still took pride in your work, even as the overly long days threatened to wear you down. You still wanted to try to make people happy with your work.

Which is how you ended up getting to know Joel and Tommy in the first place. You showed up at their door a few days after they moved in with a few plates of food in hand, still hot below the tin foil they were wrapped in.

“Yeah?” Joel said, voice gruff.

“Hi!” You said brightly, not taking his attitude personally. Everyone was gruff here. You were used to it. You introduced yourself before pressing on. “I hadn’t seen you both around the QZ before so I thought you might be new and want a little something while you’re settling in, maybe stretch those ration cards a bit further…”

“What’s in it for you?” Joel cut you off, looking you up and down.

It was like he was finding every flaw you’d ever been afraid you had, his eyes raking over you fiercely.

“Nothing,” you smiled, even though it felt forced. “Just wanted to do something nice!”

“Bullshit.”

“Joel, you scarin’ the neighbors?” Tommy asked, coming alongside his brother and opening the door wider.

“Not at all,” you smiled, a little more genuinely this time.

Tommy introduced himself and Joel, who just grunted at you.

“I brought dinner,” you said, holding the plates out. “Just thought you might want a break after getting here is all.”

“That is real sweet of you,” Tommy smiled, taking the plates. He lifted one to his nose and breathed deep. “Smells real good, too. You a cook or something?”

“Or something,” you smiled. “I used to be a chef but now I just cook for FEDRA. This is better than that, though. Anyway, I hope you like it and welcome to Boston!”

“Thank you,” Tommy smiled broader. “Hope to see you around!”

You started coming back to see Tommy. He was kinder, he seemed like he was happy to see you. Which you appreciated. You didn’t have many people in the QZ, it was nice to have someone who felt like a friend who lived so close.

You’d come by twice more and chatted with Tommy for a bit the next time you saw Joel at all. You knocked on their door with a loaf of bread in hand and Joel opened it, frowning at you.

“He ain’t here,” he said before you had a chance to say anything.

“Oh,” you tried not to look disappointed. It seemed like that would be rude. “Well, I made a few loaves of bread today. I thought you might want one!”

You held it out, an offering.

He took it.

“Still not sure why you’re doin’ this,” he said, almost sneering. “You just never work? FEDRA jobs that kush?”

“No,” you frowned. There was the familiar pinch of tears at the back of your throat. “No, I work 12 hours a day six days a week, I just… I like to share.”

You turned to go before you started crying in front of him, like an idiot. You’d always been overly sensitive, too open-hearted your mom had always said. It didn’t serve you well in the apocalypse.

“Wait,” he said. You stopped but didn’t turn around, tears starting to slip down your cheeks. “Shit, I… Look. I’m not trying to be an asshole, OK? Just… Haven’t exactly had many people be nice for the sake of bein’ nice in a while. Feels hard to believe. Would… would you want to come inside? Don’t exactly got much at the moment but there’s coffee. Could make us some.”

You dried your eyes on the back of your wrists and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Yeah,” you sniffed a little before turning around. “Yeah, OK. Coffee sounds good.”

It was awkward at first. Joel was stiff, clearly not used to having someone else around who wasn’t his brother. It reminded you of when you’d adopted a dog from the shelter when you were in your 20s. You brought him home to your apartment and let him off the leash and it was like he didn’t know what to do. He could recognize that this was a home, that it had a kitchen and a living room and a couch. He just couldn’t find his place in it. An interloper. Something that needed a map to help navigate a new yet familiar land.

“How are you liking Boston?” You asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

He shrugged.

“Fine,” he said. “Still tryin’ to figure out if it’s better than out there or not.”

You nodded slowly.

“I’ve wondered that, too,” you said. “But I’ve never been out there. I’m just not sure it’s worth it to try and figure out the difference.”

He was almost kind while you were there. Well, definitely kind by Joel standards, almost by anyone else’s. But you’d take what you could get. Especially since you imagined that would be the last time something like that would ever happen.

You were wrong.

When you made pasta a few days later - the sauce surprisingly good for something thrown together from leftovers from the guards’ mess hall - you brought plates a few doors down and Joel answered. He invited you in again, even as you tried to just leave the food and go.

The conversation was unlike anything you’d ever really had before. It wasn’t small talk - Joel seemed to find that sort of conversation excruciating - but it wasn’t anything personal, either. It occupied an nebulous third arena, deep and intelligent - discussing things like depictions of the end of the world in fiction and what they’d gotten right and what you thought might becoming because of it - but without offering a glimpse into the core of the other person.

You weren’t sure what to do with any of it. But you liked it. You liked Joel.

It happened a few more times over the next several months, you ending up in an obscure conversation with Joel in his apartment every other week or so, until, one day, things went bad on your walk home from work.

One of your cooks was too sick to work - which said a lot with FEDRA breathing down your necks - and you’d stayed late at the kitchen after, getting things reset for the next day.

It was raining and cold and miserable as you trudged home, looking forward to a hopefully hot shower and your bed, when someone stepped out of the shadows as you turned a corner. .

“Well well,” the man said, making you jump. There was a knife in his hand. You swallowed. “Look what we have here. A FEDRA bitch.”

You looked around quickly, about to take off back the way you came when there was something warm and large against your back.

“Don’t even think about it,” the man’s voice was harsh.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your hands shaking. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I have ration cards, you can have them…”

You felt the man behind you laugh.

“Hear that?” He said. “She thinks we want her ration cards.”

He sneered the last words, taunting you.

“I just…” you began but the man in front of you spoke now.

“We’ll take the ration cards,” he said, stepping closer. “Take a lot else, too. FEDRA killed my sister. Seems only fair we take a few of their bitches in return.”

“Please,” you said softly. “Please, they won’t care, I’m just a cook, they won’t even notice, I’m so sorry about your sister but I’m not…”

The one behind you grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, making you squeal. The other punched you across the face, making you cry out in shock as much as it was pain.

“Then we’ll start with you,” he said. “And take a few others, too. We’ll just take and take and take until they have to pay attention. Won’t we?”

“Yup,” the man at your back put his mouth next to your ear so you could feel his hot breath on your skin. “We could get creative with ‘er. Know you wanted to gut her but now I’m wondering if I could make her choke to death on my cock…”

Your heart was racing, beating so hard against your ribs it felt like it should be bruising from the force of it.

“Please,” you were crying. “Please, I haven’t done anything to hurt anyone, I just…”

“You’re FEDRA,” the man in front of you said, curling his hand into a fist. “That’s plenty.”

You flinched from the blow you knew was about to land, tried to remember what you could about throwing a punch, when a sharp voice broke through the night.

“Hey!”

You opened your eyes just enough to see Joel stalking up.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” He demanded. The man at your back released your hair. Joel didn’t slow down. He just shoved the man in front of you back. “Think you can just fuck with whoever you want around here?”

“You FEDRA now, too, Miller?” He snapped. “Fuckin’ kill you too, maybe make you suck my dick first, too…”

Joel punched him, hard, across the face. So hard the man collapsed to the ground in one hit. The man at your back grabbed you and threw you to the ground and you landed in the mud as he lunged for Joel. He dodged the man easily, throwing a punch to the man’s torso before he grabbed a knife from his belt and thrust it into the man’s stomach. He gasped at it, his mouth agape in shock as Joel pulled the blade up through his gut to his ribs before shoving him to the ground. The man he’d punched first had managed to roll over, trying to get up. Joel held up the knife.

“Try it, Pickett,” he said. “Fuckin’ dare you.”

The man stayed down. Joel nodded, bending to wipe his knife on Pickett’s pants before putting it in the sheath at his belt. He pulled his leg back and kicked the man, hard, in the stomach, right where he’d stabbed the other one.

“She’s under my protection,” Joel snapped. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I catch any of you fuckin’ with her, I’ll kill every last one of you. Understand?”

Pickett just groaned. Joel dropped to one knee next to the man and took his face in one hand, his fingers sinking harshly into the ruddy flesh of the man’s cheeks.

“Asked you a goddamn question,” he snapped. “Expect an answer or you’re too useless to leave alive. She’s protected. Fuck with her, you die like your fuckin’ buddy. Understood?”

“Understood,” the man managed. Joel freed his face and he slumped down into the mud as Joel straightened back up.

“Good.”

He left the man in the mud before kneeling next to you.

“You alright baby doll?” He asked, his voice weirdly gentle. You sniffed and nodded. “Alright, let’s get you up, get you home and cleaned up….”

He put his hands on you delicately. You realized suddenly that Joel had never touched you before. Even when you handed him food or he gave you a cup of tea or coffee, his fingers never even brushed your own. Now, his hands were fully on you, all overly large and delicate and warm, guiding you into sitting up and then standing. Once you were on your feet, one of those large hands gingerly took your chin and turned your face this way and that, so different parts of your skin caught the light.

“Fucker got you good,” he said, shooting the man who was still alive in the puddle another glare. “C’mon. We’ll get you home, get you all cleaned up. You’ll be OK.”

He tucked you below his arm, guiding you away from the carnage behind you. You turned to look at it, anyway, the still living man crawling through the mud and the rain to his dead friend.

“Don’t,” Joel said, voice oddly gentle. He delicately tucked your head against him, making it so you couldn’t look back. “Don’t need to see that. They don’t fuckin’ deserve it.”

“You killed him,” you said, hating how small and weak you sounded. “Joel, you killed that man, he’s…”

“Barely counted as a fuckin’ man,” he muttered. “Got what he deserved. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, almost back…”

You were strangely numb as you let Joel guide you back to your building. He led you up the stairs and to your apartment door, something that shouldn’t have surprised you - you only lived a few doors down from him and Tommy, after all - you just hadn’t thought he’d ever paid attention.

“Gimme the key,” he said, his arm still around you. You obeyed, your hands still shaking as you got the key from your pocket and handed it over. He unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. You were glad you’d picked your apartment a bit the day before so it was at least neat and relatively clean - at least by QZ standards it was, anyway.

Joel lowered you gently into a chair at your kitchen table and pulled up another one next to you. You frowned.

“What are…”

“Fuckers got a good hit on you,” he said, looking at your face in the light, frowning. “Should��ve just killed them both but that don’t work as well for sending a specific goddamn message….”

It seemed like he was talking to himself, at least in part. You just watched him examine you, his face drawn, eyes tracing over your skin.

“Go get cleaned up,” he said, sitting back from you. You frowned. “You’re covered in mud. Won’t do a damn bit of good to bandage you up now if you’re a mess.”

“Right,” you said, looking down at your body. You’d almost forgotten that part of it. “Um…”

“Be here when you’re done,” he said. “Get you patched up. Go shower.”

You took a last look at him, acutely aware of the mud dripping onto your carpet, before you went to your bathroom, stripped down and climbed in the shower. You tried not to think about the fact that Joel Miller was just… sitting in your apartment.

It didn’t make any sense. It was Joel. Why had he even bothered to stop? Why had he intervened at all? He seemed to think of you as little more than a nuisance but he saved you. Killed a man for you. Told another that you were under his protection, all but told him to let the whole of the QZ know it. And now he was just sitting at your kitchen table, waiting for you to get out of the shower so he could take care of you.

You stayed under the mercifully warm water longer than you needed to trying to come up with an answer. The best thing you could come up with was that he felt like he owed you for all the food you’d brought over the last few months - though murder seemed like a high price for some bread and dinners.

In your almost dazed state, you hadn’t thought to bring more clothes into the bathroom with you, a fact that occurred to you when you were still in the shower. You groaned. At least there was a robe in the bathroom so you wouldn’t need to dart across the hall to your bedroom while wrapped in nothing but a damn towel.

But when you stepped out of the bathroom in a haze of steam and wrapped in a terrycloth robe that went almost to your ankles, Joel was standing at the mouth of the hall. He looked up at you and blinked twice, frozen where he stood. You froze, too. You weren’t entirely sure why, if maybe you felt like prey under his gaze, a rabbit hoping that stillness would keep the wolf from gutting you, or if the heat inside you made you want to be cracked open wide to the very center of you and consumed.

“Better,” Joel said after a moment before jerking his head toward the kitchen table. “In here, where it’s light.”

“But…” you tried to protest, overly aware of your own nakedness below your robe.

“It’s fine,” he cut you off. “C’mere.”

You kept your eyes on him as you obeyed, moving slow and cautious for the kitchen table, never turning your back to him. You still weren’t sure why.

The seat you were in before had been cleaned, as had your floor, no sign of the splatters of mud. Instead, there was a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and gauze on your kitchen table.

“Sit,” Joel ordered. You obeyed without hesitation. He took the seat close to you again, reaching to the leg of your chair and jerking you forward, the wood groaning as it scratched across the linoleum of your floor. He took your chin in his hands again and examined your skin, his face close to yours. You could smell him, the rain water on his skin, the remnants of laundry soap, the bite of something wild that you couldn’t place but seemed to blend with his rough beard and flannel shirt. “Not exactly a doctor but don’t think you need stitches. Just gotta keep you from getting infected. Unless you’d rather go to the damn clinic…”

“No!” You said it quickly, probably too forcefully. You cleared your throat. “No, I… No clinic. I don’t want to cause any issues and I don’t want them to ask too many questions…”

You didn’t want anything that would tie the dead body that was going cold in the rain a few blocks away to you or Joel.

“Good,” Joel said. He dabbed the rubbing alcohol on your cut cheek, making you hiss in pain but you held still. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, even with the rough callus of them. “You’re doin’ good, baby doll. Almost done.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, his brows drawn together as he concentrated on you before picking up the gauze and taping it over the injured skin.

He released your face when he finished and sat back in the chair. You crossed your arms over your stomach, watching him for a moment. You’d always known that Joel was handsome. That was a simple fact, anyone with working eyes could see it. But it had always been a somewhat neutral statement. He was handsome but he was also cold and gruff and seemed to barely tolerate you outside of the unusual conversations you had when you brought something by and Tommy was unexpectedly absent. Even then, you’d gotten the impression that he was humoring you for Tommy’s sake, not out of any kindness or affection toward you. He was handsome but you’d never had anything more than a passing attraction to the man because thinking about how he must look at you, see you, hurt.

But it was like a switch had flipped since Joel had saved you. Like the only thing that had been keeping you from looking at him and wanting him had been the idea that he wouldn’t want you in return. Some kind of protective measure meant to save you from getting attached to something hopeless because, at the end of the world, what was the point of attachment without hope?

“Thank you,” you said when you realized you’d been quiet for too long.

Joel shrugged.

“Anyone fucks with you again, tell me,” Joel said. “Idiots should know better now, but…”

You nodded slowly. Joel watched you for a moment before getting up and going to your kitchen. He got a towel from a drawer and filled it with ice before coming back and moving his chair closer to yours and pressing it against your bandaged skin. Your fingers covered his, meaning to take the ice pack from him, but he left his hand there, cradling it to your face. Your eyes met his, all dark and deep and wounded and you swallowed, hard.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, whispering more than fully talking. Like it was a secret you were asking at all.

“Didn’t deserve what they were about to do to you,” he said. His eyes were still on yours. You were closer to him than you’d ever been before. Your hand slid from his down his arm to his elbow, fingers twisting in the fabric of his sleeve. You watched his jaw tense for a moment. “Didn’t… Couldn’t see you hurt.”

You leaned into him. You couldn’t help it, drawn into his strength and warmth, the comfort of his safety and sudden kindness so overwhelming it was a force unto itself. It was almost a surprise when you kissed him, that his lips were on your own.

The kiss was only soft and gentle for a moment. Just long enough for Joel to drop the ice pack to the floor, his hand gently holding your bandaged face, ensuring he kept your mouth at the right angle. His other hand went to your waist, grabbing you almost roughly, pulling you sharply onto his lap with a surprised squeak. You were straddling Joel and damn near naked doing it, the only thing between you his jeans and the robe that was caught between your thighs.

You froze as his fingers tightened on you, his lips growing more insistent, the heat in you building and burning but you weren’t sure what to do with it all.

But he wasn’t slowing down or pulling away. His kiss deepened and the hand that was at your waist moved to the small of your back, adjusting you so that your core was pressed tightly to his growing length in his jeans. You moaned into his mouth, involuntarily rocking your hips against his hardening cock. Your arms went around his neck and you pressed yourself closer to him, dipping your tongue into his mouth to taste him. Joel’s hips pressed up against yours and you could feel his bulge against you, the heat of him making your core tighten and ache.

Joel’s hands left your face and your back, coming around to the knot on the front of your robe. He pulled his lips from yours and looked down at your body as he untied it. He looked you in the eye - a silent request for permission, it seemed - and you didn’t stop him as his hands slid inside the fabric and pushed it away from you.

Your skin was still warm from the shower and the shock of the cool air against you made you shiver. Joel didn’t seem to notice. His hands moved almost reverently for your waist, then your breasts, his callused fingers running over your soft, smooth skin, cupping the heavy globes of flesh, running his thumbs over your pebbled nipples.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathed before kissing you again, your tits still in his hands. You pulled him closer, tighter, not caring if you seemed like some kind of rabid whore as you ground your leaking slit down on his still clothed cock.

His hands ranged over you as he all but devoured your mouth, grip getting harder, kiss getting more desperate before he separated from you once more, panting for breath, pupils blown.

“Let me fuck you,” his chest was heaving. He didn’t say it like a question or even a plea. He said it like it was a foregone conclusion, that he was going to have you and this was a formality.

You could only nod and he shoved your robe to the floor before taking you in his arms and carrying you to your couch. He ripped his shirt over his head and cast it aside before hurriedly stepping out of his boots and shoving his pants and underwear down and off, his cock full and hard, making your eyes go wide. It’s not like you were a virgin or anything, you’d been in your early 30s when the outbreak happened, you’d had your fair share of men. You’d just never seen a cock quite that thick.

Joel looked down at you on the couch, one of his hands wrapping around his length and stroking it once, twice, before gathering the precome leaking from his head and spreading it over himself.

“Joel,” you swallowed hard as he adjusted your legs and climbed between them. “I don’t think…”

“It’ll fit, Baby Doll,” he was still breathless as he jerked himself. “I’ll make it fit. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry…”

You nodded, not really sure you believed him, but the gnawing need inside you was overwhelming any resistance you felt as he lined his fat, almost purple head with your weeping hole. You sat up on your elbows, watching where he was going to enter you - or try to enter you, at least.

“Already so wet,” he ran his head up and down your slit, gathering your slick. “Make you feel so good, fill you up so good, promise baby…”

He pushed himself inside you then, a grimace on his face until his head almost popped into your tight channel, pulling a shocked gasp from you. He was hardly inside you but you could still feel the burning stretch of him. His thumb went to your clit and brushed it at first, making you shudder, before working you in tight, firm circles. He fucked just the tip of him in and out of you, keeping the pressure on your sensitive nub as he did. You rocked your hips against him, you couldn’t help it, your orgasm already closer than you’d expected it to be.

“See?” He panted. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

With that, he thrust into you the rest of the way, making your eyes go wide and a high pitched whine leave you. You couldn’t look away from where he was filling you, the stretch unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He was so big you could see the outline of him between your hips, a foreign swell where he’d made space inside you to fill.

“Joel,” you whimpered below him. You could feel him twitch inside you, like he was inches away from orgasm already. “Fuck, I need a minute, you’re too big, I need…”

“Fuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back, his hands finding your waist. But he was still inside you even though you could feel that he wanted to fuck you hard and fast. Your body adjusted, the almost painful strain of taking him fading to an overwhelming fullness that had you starting to rock your hips against him, desperate for more stimulation. “Fuckin’ Christ, gonna lose it with you doing that, Baby Doll, I need to fuck you, I gotta, won’t hurt you promise I won’t…”

You nodded but you weren’t sure it even registered with him. His grip on your waist tightened and he pulled back from you - slow at first - before thrusting all the way back in, the force of it knocking the air out of you. You groaned as Joel started to fuck you, hard and fast and needy, his thick cock stretching you with every motion.

“Knew you could take it,” he panted. “Told you I’d make it fit.”

You just whimpered, one of your hands finding your clit, the other your breast, working yourself in both places as he pounded into you. Your channel grew tighter around him, your orgasm close.

“There you go,” he kept up his almost brutal pace. “Fuck yeah, make yourself come on this cock, come all over my fuckin’ cock while I wreck this little pussy, do it, fucking come for me.”

You couldn’t help it, you came so hard you cried out with it, your hands stilling as you pulsed over Joel and he fucked you through your orgasm. He never stopped, never even slowed. If anything, he slammed into you harder and faster and your overwrought pussy almost hurt with it.

“Fuck, can I come in you?” He asked. “Please… fuck… please, gotta come in you, need to come in you, fuck Baby I’m coming, gonna fill you up, fuck!”

He pressed himself deep and exploded inside you there before you had a chance to tell him either way, the hot ropes of his come coating your inner walls. He collapsed forward onto you, his head over your shoulder and pressed into the cushion of your couch as he caught his breath. You could feel him leaking out of your spent hole as he went soft inside you. You slowly, hesitantly put your arms around him, stroking his back for a moment. Part of you was unsure what, exactly, had just happened. If it meant anything at all.

“Fuck,” he sat up from you and pulled his cock from your body. He was glistening with the blend of you and him together. He looked down at you, still a little breathless, as you were splayed out before him. You remembered, suddenly, what it was like to look down at a chicken you’d split while butchering, all hollowed out, its only remaining purpose - to be consumed - laid bare. “Fuck, I… I don’t…”

You sat up on your elbows again and looked down between your legs. His come was leaking from you. You looked back up at him, acutely aware of your vulnerability but hiding anything from him felt wrong.

“It’s OK,” you said quietly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I… I’m sorry, I…”

He stopped and got off the couch, getting his clothes from the floor. He pulled his underwear and jeans on quickly before retrieving your robe from beside your kitchen table. He lowered it gently onto your stomach. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up and sliding it on. You cinched the tie around your waist.

“Are you…” he trailed off as he shrugged back into his shirt, his brown eyes ranging over you again and again.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded.

“Right,” he said. “Right, OK…”

He stepped into his boots, not bothering to adjust the laces. But then, he only lived a few doors down.

Oh God, he only lived a few doors down.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly after he was fully clothed again. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, getting up and crossing your arms over yourself, thankful that your robe was long and covered most of you. “I… I wanted it.”

“Right,” Joel nodded. “That… we can’t do that again, OK? It’s not smart. Probably best if we…”

“Sure,” you just nodded again. “Yeah, OK.”

“Good,” he said, going for your door. He stopped to look at you. “Take care of yourself. Let me know if you run into any more trouble.”

“I will,” you nodded. “Thanks, Joel.”

He gave you a nod and just left you there, his come dripping out of you and his bandage on your cheek.

That was the first time you fucked Joel Miller.

It wasn’t the last.

You came by a few weeks later, almost positive that it would just be Tommy home but it was Joel who answered the door.

Once you got through the awkwardness of the hellos and the handing off of biscuits, you tried to leave, even though your core was tight and achy being so close to Joel again. Like he’d imprinted himself inside you, the shadow of him still there as a reminder. But Joel wasn’t having it. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you around to face him before pressing you back into the wall and all but shoving his tongue into your mouth. He fucked you right there, against the wall of his living room, and when your thoughts weren’t blinded by orgasms you were just praying that his brother didn’t come home and find the two of you like this.

When it was over, he stepped back from you, his eyes wide as he panted for breath and said over and over that it couldn’t happen again. That it wasn’t smart, not when you were neighbors and you were all stuck here like this. That he didn’t want any kind of anything with anyone. That it was a waste of time.

It took until about the fifth time for Joel to stop saying it couldn’t happen again. For him to just accept it. He showed up at your door most nights now. He had for more than a year now. You weren’t entirely sure what your relationship actually was. You slept better when Joel was wrapped around you, even when he jerked in his sleep as nightmares plagued him. If you had an utterly miserable day, he sometimes listened to you vent about it before he fucked you silly. He brought you things he thought you’d like when he made smuggling runs outside the QZ, like a magpie who sought out books and baking equipment. You made him dinner and cut his hair when it got too long and didn’t ask questions when you bandaged up his knuckles at the end of a long day.

But Joel had never so much as told you that he liked you, let alone anything close to love. Even though you loved him. It had taken you some time to realize that you had. You’d become numb to a lot since the outbreak. Love was a risk, one that your subconscious mind seemed itching to keep you away from. Especially from someone as distant as Joel. You’d been fucking no one but him for more than a year now and you’d only learned within the last month that he was a contractor before the end of the world.

You wanted to do something nice for him. Something that might let him start to love you. At least like you as something more than someone to fuck, anyway. And you had the perfect thing in mind.

That day, Joel rolled you over in the early morning hours, kissing you deeply in the dark, enough to start to wake you up.

“Have a good day,” your words were slurred and mushy in your sleep but he seemed to get the picture.

“Think you’ll have an easier time of it, I’m on sewer duty,” he kissed you one more time, just a peck on the lips. “See you tonight.”

“Mmmm.”

You waited until you were sure Joel was gone for the day before you turned on the lamp beside your bed and found Joel’s watch on the nightstand.

He never took the darn thing off except to sleep. He always wore it, every day. Except the days he was on sewer duty. He left it at home or at your place then, the face of it cracked and the mechanism so broken it didn’t work anymore. But he still wore it every damn day. He’d never told you why.

You ran your thumb over the broken glass of the face for a moment before setting it back down and getting dressed in your kitchen uniform and pocketing the watch.

Your shift started in an hour and a half, giving you what you hoped was enough time to get the errand you’d been planning done. You had to venture most of the way across the QZ to do it, traveling to the black market shops where you knew a lot of what Joel smuggled in wound up. It was still early there, people setting out what was on offer, and you found the one person you knew of in the QZ who dealt in things like jewelry and watches. Even though he’d always struck you as slimy every time he’d talked to you when you’d walked by his stall when on the hunt for something else.

“Hey there pretty lady,” he smirked. “Finally coming to see me?”

“I was wondering if you could fix something for me,” you said, getting the watch out and handing it over. “It’s my… it belongs to my friend. The face has been broken forever and I don’t think it tells time anymore. Think it’s fixable?”

He took it and frowned down at it, turning it over in his fingers.

“Kind of a piece of shit to waste the energy on fixing it,” he said before looking back up at you. “Could find you something better, get you a deal…”

“I’d rather get that one fixed if you can,” you smiled. “I don’t mind the price.”

He nodded, looking back down at it.

“Well, it’s beat to shit,” he said. “But I’ll give it my best shot or find something good to replace it with, how about that? Even buy this piece of crap off you, I’m sure I can use it for parts. Give you a discount on the watch itself.”

There was a twinge in your gut at that, the idea of maybe trading Joel’s watch away. It must have sentimental value if he wore the broken thing that much. Or maybe it was just force of habit? He didn’t have one that worked but felt naked without it?

“Sure,” you smiled. “When do you think you’ll know?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Come back, see me. I’ll let you know what I can figure out.”

You walked to work excited to see Joel that night. You were sure he was going to like the watch thing. Maybe it could be the start to something new, something good. After so long of living in limbo with him, you sure hoped it was.

***

Joel fucking hated sewer days.

They paid the best but it was disgusting work. The only worse job, in his opinion, was burning infected bodies. At least the sewer didn’t have dead kids.

Otherwise, it was worse.

He went by his apartment first to shower and get cleaned up before heading toward yours.

Joel was reluctant to admit it even to himself - especially to himself - but he’d grown attached to you over the last few years.

He’d never meant to fuck you.

It had been an accident, the first time. Or, at least, as much of an accident as fucking someone could be. He’d always thought you were pretty. You were beautiful, truly. Beautiful enough that he couldn’t pretend that you weren’t. So he moved on from that fact. But you were also sweet and kind, nicer to him than he deserved. He tried to keep you at arm’s length but you’d somehow managed to insert yourself into his life in ways he hadn’t expected. He liked being around you, he liked to look at you, he liked to imagine what it would feel like to be inside you. Falling into fucking you had been easy, so damn easy.

It helped that you didn’t ask anything of him. That you put up with shit from him that he doubted you’d have tolerated in the before times. But you were lonely here, that much was clear, and Joel was someone. He took advantage of that fact, he knew. He knew he should be better for you. Try to be more. Try to be something at all. But he wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore, if it had ever existed for anyone but Sarah at all. It seemed like it would be cruel to both of you to try.

So he didn’t.

He was lucky that you seemed fine with that. Even if he really wasn’t.

He beat you to your apartment. Not surprising, sewer shifts started early and ended early, and he let himself in to wait for you, going to get his watch off the nightstand first.

Joel felt naked without it. Almost like he was betraying his daughter when he didn’t wear it, that he’d somehow decided the last thing she’d done for him wasn’t good enough anymore. But wearing it on sewer jobs was too big a risk. If it fell off there, he’d never find it again and he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if that happened. So he left it wherever he slept the night before - as likely to be your place as his anymore - and always put it back on the second he got cleaned up.

But it wasn’t on your nightstand. He frowned, looking on the bed - you made it every day, like that shit still mattered - but it wasn’t there. He got down on his hands and knees and looked around the nightstand, below it, under the bed. He ripped the sheets off and shook them out, took the pillows out of their cases. His heart was pounding. It had to be here it had to.

He went to the bathroom next, maybe he’d taken it off in there the night before even though he never had before but he searched there, too. He was taking all the cushions off your couch when he heard your key in the door. He kept searching as you came in, not even looking up at you.

“Joel!” He heard you drop your keys and your bag and then your hands were on him, pulling him back from the couch and making him stand up straight. He was breathless. He had to find it, it had to be here. Fuck, what if he put it on this morning and it fell off on the job and he hasn’t noticed? What if it was gone? “What are you…”

“My watch,” he said, looking around the room for where to search next. “I… my fucking watch, left it here this morning, almost positive I left it here but I can’t find it and I need that watch, Baby Doll, I gotta…”

“Joel,” you smiled a little, putting your hands on his forearm. “It’s OK. You did leave it here but… well, it was supposed to be a surprise…”

His stomach dropped.

“What did you do.”

You took your hands back, smile fading at his tone. Your eyes went a little wide.

“I noticed that it’s broken,” your voice was quiet. “And I thought it was something that might be fixable…”

“What the fuck did you do?!”

You shocked back from him. Joel had never so much as raised his voice to you before and he was screaming now.

“I took it to a man across town,” you said quickly. “He said he might be able to fix it or find a good replacement and…”

“I don’t want it fucking fixed!” He screamed, pressing closer to you and you flinched back. “I want it the way it was! I want it the way it was when my daughter fucking died!”

You stared at him for a second. He’d never told you about Sarah. He didn’t talk about her. It hurt too much to even consider it, he kept her to himself, her memory saved for quiet spaces where he could let it overwhelm him.

“Your daughter?” You whispered, reaching for him. He stepped back from you, couldn’t handle your fucking hands on him, not now. “Joel, you never… I didn’t…”

“She gave me that watch!” He wasn’t yelling now but there was a tremble in his voice, the barely contained rage slipping through. “She gave me that fucking watch and the day she died she got it fixed for me. It got fucked up by the bullets that killed her because I didn’t do my fucking job as her father, I didn’t protect her! That watch is all I have left of her and you…” He shook his head, his resolve cracking and yelling again. “You fucking gave it away! How could you be that fucking stupid? That fucking careless? What the fuck were you thinking!”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. You were crying, voice shaky. “I… I didn’t know, I just wanted…”

“You think I give a shit what you want?” He yelled, towering over you. “Think I give a shit about you? You’re just some stupid fucking girl I use when I need to get off and you…”

You were cowering back from him and he knew he was scaring you but he couldn’t feel anything past the sharp pain of loss enough to care.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was so quiet he could barely hear you. “Joel, please…”

He glared at you with so much force it made you flinch and stalked out your front door, not bothering to close it behind him.

Joel took the stairs down to the street two at a time and set off, walking quickly as night fell and rain started in a steady drizzle over him. He could think of a few places you’d probably try to take the watch. If he could find it in time… with all the fucking smuggling connections he has in this godforsaken town. He had to be able to find it. He had to.

But he searched all night, went to every goddamn black market dealer he could think of. He was only able to find about half of them, some out who the fuck knows where, and none of them had the watch.

It was daylight again when he returned home, soaking wet and exhausted. He glared at your door as he passed, going to his place to shower and try to warm up.

But without the distraction of searching, the desperate drive to do something because he could, he was forced to feel while standing in the steam and the water.

The pain of the loss of his daughter was there, sharp and acute when he realized he may never again touch something she had also held. The permanence of that somehow making her loss more real than it had been in years. It was gutting. He’d rather be shot or stabbed or have the shit beaten out of him than feel this. At least that was tangible, something he could heal from and not this constant, consuming pain.

But there was also you. You, who had become the only bright spot in this goddamn place. You, who held him when he woke up in a panic and told him that he was safe and that it would be OK. You, just about the only thing that had made him smile in years and who looked at him like he was something worth wanting. Looked at him like there was still a point to him at all.

You’d tried to do something nice for him. You hadn’t known any better, he knew that. He’d just never let you in. Never even told you Sarah existed let alone about the way that she died. How he’d held her, how Tommy had to drag him away from her body, how all he’d wanted to do was join her and he couldn’t even do that right. He’d never told you any of it. He couldn’t blame you for that, not when he was already afraid of how much he cared about you. He was even more terrified of what he knew he could feel for you if he just let himself. It wouldn’t even be hard. Not feeling it was like fighting against gravity. It would only take one slip and he’d fall into it, he knew that.

He got out of the shower and sighed, trying not to think about the watch. About the things he’d said to you. He’d been so panicked, so angry. He had tried to hurt you. Said things he knew were cruel because if he was hurting he wanted you to hurt, too.

But he wasn’t proud of that. He didn’t want you to hurt. He wanted to take care of you and protect you. You were kind and thoughtful and this fucking place hadn’t chewed you up and spit you out yet. He wanted to help you stay that way. Instead, he’d tried to hurt you.

He sighed and got dressed before going to knock on your door. It was your day off, he expected you to be home. Probably reading or baking something. Because apparently cooking all day during the week wasn’t enough, you had to do it on your day off, too.

“Hey!” Your next door neighbor came outside but her face fell when she saw Joel. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were…”

“I’ll tell ‘er you’re looking for her,” Joel said, looking back at the door, waiting for you to answer. But he didn’t even hear you inside. He frowned. He had a key, it just felt wrong to use it after the way he’d spoken to you but maybe he’d need to…

“Thanks,” your neighbor smiled, a plate in her hand. “She’s always making things for my daughter, I finally had enough extra to return the favor but I haven’t seen her since she left last night and…”

“Last night?” Joel’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, when last night?”

“Kind of late,” she frowned back. “After dark, I was just coming back home when I ran into her. Seemed like she was in a big hurry, looked like she might have been upset. I told her I had something for her and she said she’d be back later. I don’t think I missed her but…”

Joel’s heart sped up and he shoved his hand in his pocket, finding his keys. He tuned out the neighbor and had to fight to keep his hands from shaking as he opened your door.

Your apartment was still torn apart from when Joel had been searching it, couch cushions still all over the floor, coffee table askew. He ignored it, half walking, half running to your bedroom.

“What happened?” Your neighbor hovered in the doorway. Joel ignored her, too. He looked in your room, still in total disarray but empty, your uniform on the floor where it hadn’t been before. Your bathroom was empty.

“Fuck!” Joel smacked the wall. You’d left, gone somewhere and not come back. But you’d planned to come back, you’d told your neighbor that you were going to be back later and you hadn’t come home. He went to the woman in the doorway, her eyes still a bit wide as she took in the mess he’d made of your apartment. He took her by the shoulders and she blinked up at him in surprise. “Where was she going? Did she say? Tell you anything at all?”

“N-no,” she stammered, frozen in Joel’s grip. “She didn’t, I’m sorry, I don’t…”

Joel released her, running his fingers through his hair for a moment. Had you gone to try to get the watch back? He’d been so upset, so cruel… You must have. It seemed like something you would do, immediately go to try to fix it. He turned back to the woman, cursing the fact that he didn’t know this about you, that he had kept his distance from you so he wouldn’t know things about you and fall into you in the way that was so tempting to do.

“Know what markets she goes to?” He asked. “Especially for any contraband shit?” She just blinked at him for a moment and he resisted the urge to yell at her. That’s what got him into this situation, losing his fucking temper at someone who didn’t deserve it. He took a deep breath, keeping his voice calm. “I think she went to look for something but I need to know where that would be so I can go find her. Do you know?”

“Yeah,” she nodded after a moment. “Yeah, there’s one across town, in the south end. I’ve run into her there before…”

Joel was out the door before she finished talking. It was one of the places he’d gone the night before but hadn’t found anyone to talk to. He certainly hadn’t seen you there. But it was at least a starting point. He’d find you. He had to.

***

You stared at your open door for a few minutes after Joel left, in too much shock to move.

Joel had a daughter. A daughter who died. The watch had been from her, of course he wouldn’t want it fixed, of course he would wear it every day. And you’d given it to some slimy guy in the contraband market.

After a while, you could make yourself move. You closed your door and went to your room. Joel had turned that upside down, too. Of course he had. Because he was desperate and you’d made him that way.

You got changed quickly, leaving your uniform in a pile on the floor, grabbed a handful of ration cards in case you needed to buy the watch back, and headed out.

“Oh, hey!” Clara, your next door neighbor, almost ran into you on the stairs, her two-year-old on her hip. “I was just going to pop over, I made…”

“That’s so sweet,” you cut her off. “But I’ve gotta run, I’m so sorry. I’ll be back later and should be around tomorrow…”

“OK!” She called after you as you took off. “Be careful out there!”

You moved as quickly as you could manage toward the market, hoping that you could find the man, that he hadn’t started doing anything to the watch, that everything would be OK. Even if Joel hated you now, he shouldn’t lose the one thing he still had from his daughter because you hadn’t thought to ask him about the damn watch.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the man was still there, closing up shop, when you ran up.

“Why hello again,” he smiled, a smile that was smug and lecherous. “Haven’t been home to check my stash for parts yet, pretty girl, but if you wanted to come back with me I bet I could find a way to give you an even bigger discount…”

“That’s OK,” you said, a little breathless. “I actually just want the watch back, just the way it is…”

He frowned.

“It’s still pretty useless…”

“That’s OK!” You said quickly. “Just… please. Please say you still have it.”

He sighed and opened a box, rifling around in it for a moment before pulling it out. But he held onto it, running his thumb over the face of it.

“I was expecting something for fixing this,” he said, glancing up at you before looking down at the watch. “Had plans for those cards…”

You pulled a few ration cards from your pocket and held them out.

“Please,” you said. Even though he hadn’t done any work. You didn’t care. “The cards are yours, just give me the watch.”

He looked almost surprised that getting cards out of you had worked but he took them and gave you the watch. You looked at it for a moment, the broken glass in the face, the time frozen at 2:15. You tucked it in your pocket, the fist that had been clenched around your heart loosening.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Just… Thank you.”

You started at a more reasonable pace back for your apartment. You’d go to Joel’s, return the watch, apologize again and hope that he wouldn’t still hate you once you fixed it. At least you hoped he wouldn’t be hurting as much, he didn’t deserve that, not after everything he’d been through. You could fix that for him, at least. You had to.

You were so relieved at getting the watch back that you weren’t paying close attention to your walk home. Yes, it was dark and raining and late but you knew the way and, since that day more than two years ago when Joel had saved you, everyone seemed to know you were protected. That you weren’t someone they messed with and expected to live. In hindsight, it made you feel like the QZ was safer than it was. So safe that you were fine walking home alone from a shady corner of town, far from FEDRA guard posts and people you knew.

It was a stupid mistake. You realized that when you heard a voice in the dark.

“Well well.”

The sound sent a chill down your spine. You recognized that voice, the voice of the man who had tried to kill you once.

You froze, eyes wide, an animal caught in a trap.

“If it isn’t Joel Miller’s little FEDRA bitch,” Pickett emerged from the shadows, his hands in his pockets, a few men at his side. Your eyes darted between them. There were six of them that you could see. There was no way you could fight off that many. Hell, you probably couldn’t even fight off one. You’d never been a fighter. “Awful far from home aren’t ya?”

“Heading there now,” you said, voice shaky. “Joel’s expecting me…”

“Well that’s too bad, isn’t it?” He prowled closer. “Guess you’ll have to keep him waiting just a bit longer.”

“You don’t want to do that,” you finally were able to make your legs move, backing away from him. “You know what he said…”

“But he isn’t here, is he?” He smirked. “And he’s the one who left his little toy out for just anyone to take. If you mattered all that much to him, don’t think you’d be out here all alone at this time of night.”

Your eyes darted, looking for the best way to run, but your mind was distracted. The man was right. You didn’t matter to Joel, he’d told you as much, that you were just some stupid girl he used when he needed it. You were just some stupid girl and you were going to wind up dead in the shitty part of the QZ and he’d never get the watch back, the one thing he had left of his daughter, because you’d been too stupid to ask about it. For some reason, that part hurt more than the thought of dying. There wasn’t much to life in the QZ, certainly not much that made life worth living. Joel had become the one thing you looked forward to. It was hard to mourn your own destruction when there wasn’t anything left that was really worth living for.

You tried to run, slipping in the mud as you went. But you were turned around, too panicked to look at street signs or pay close enough attention and, when you wound up at a dead end, you were cornered, the men closing in on you as you backed into a wall.

“Please,” you whispered. “It won’t make a difference to him or to FEDRA, if you want to hurt them, I’m not the way to do it and…”

“Maybe not,” Pickett smiled in a way that was more like the bearing of teeth than an actual smile. “But you sure will be fun.”

Your eyes were so glued to his that you didn’t even see it coming when the first blow sent you to the ground.

***

Joel made it to the market in record time, out of breath and bones reminding him that he was in his 40s now and he’d spent his life breaking his body to survive. He scanned the stalls quickly, finding the man who was the most likely one you’d have gone to, watches and jewelry out on a table in front of him. As if anyone could afford that shit now anyway.

“How can I help you?” The man asked, smiling up at Joel from his seat behind the table. “Looking for something special for a lady friend, perhaps?”

“Looking for my…” he paused. Technically, you weren’t anything to him. “My friend. She would have come here yesterday with a watch…”

“Oh,” he laughed. “Yeah, I know her. Such a pretty thing, a little disappointed she only decided to give me the time of day when she needed something…”

“She was here?” Joel asked, brows raised.

The man smirked.

“Answers are gonna cost you.”

Joel ground his teeth for a second before shooting his arm forward and roughly grabbing the back of the man’s neck, shoving his head down and slamming it into the table, the man giving a yelp of pain when his nose crushed against the wood.

“Fuck!” He swore as Joel pressed his face against the table. He squirmed but Joel held him down. “Jesus Christ, man!”

“Was. She. Here.” Joel’s teeth were clenched, his chest heaving.

“She was here!” The man cried out and Joel released his neck. He panted for breath for a moment and sat up cautiously, cradling the back of his neck. “She was here, last night, she came by, wanted the watch back, she seemed desperate.”

“Where’d she go from here?” Joel demanded.

“What?”

“Where!” Joel screamed, hand curling into a fist, ready to beat the answer out of him.

“Back the way she came!” He covered his head with his arms. “Same place you came from what I could see, please!”

Joel stepped back.

“When was it?”

“Late!” The man said quickly. “Late, she came by late. Right at the end of the day, I was closing up shop, it was dark and raining…”

So you’d made it this far. You just hadn’t made it back home.

“Anyone who runs around here who would give her trouble?” Joel asked. “Keep her from comin’ home?”

“Plenty of people,” the man looked at him like he was insane. Joel glowered at him again and he flinched. “But most likely, Pickett’s gang, saw a few of them last night prowling around, they’ve been causing trouble around here lately. If she ran into trouble, it’s probably with them!”

Joel nodded slowly. Pickett. He knew him. That was the man he’d saved you from before, the jackass had been building up a following of FEDRA hating idiots who seemed bent on causing trouble and hurting people as a way to feel strong by being cruel.

He knew where to find them.

Joel ran there, a crumbling building FEDRA hadn’t done anything with yet that he and Tommy had run drugs to a few times. He pulled the knife he kept at his belt free before he pushed the door open. Whether you were here or not, these were men he wouldn’t care about killing.

The first one was just inside the door. Probably meant to be standing guard but not paying attention, flipping through an old Playboy instead. Joel caught him off guard. He wrapped his hand around the handle of the knife and used it to bolster his punch, the blow landing so hard the man fell backwards off his stool. Joel kicked his gun away and kneeled on the man’s chest, putting the blade to his throat.

“Your boss bring a woman here last night?” Joel asked.

“Not your business, is it?” The man sneered. Joel ground his teeth, covering the man’s mouth to muffle his screams before taking the knife in his hand and thrusting it into the man’s shoulder. Joel waited until he quieted some, gasping below his palm, before he spoke again.

“Scream and I’ll gut you like a fuckin’ fish,” Joel snarled. “Now I’m just about done askin’ nicely. Did your boss bring a woman here last night?”

“Yes!” He said, pleading. “He did, she’s still here, I think she’s still alive, they’re on the second floor, please…”

Joel freed the knife and thrust it into the man’s throat. He didn’t need him anymore. He picked up the gun.

It was easy, finding you then. He shot men as they approached, only half a dozen or so between him and you. But none of them were Pickett.

He found the room he was sure you were in, two men stationed at the door who fired at him when he came around the corner. He ducked out of sight, readied his stolen weapon and exposed himself just enough to shoot. He dropped them both before they could land a shot on him. He took their ammo and changed his clip before listening at the door for a moment. It was quiet.

Joel opened the door slowly, cautiously, but he didn’t need to. You were the only one inside, on the ground in an unnatural looking position. He holstered the gun and ran to you, kneeling beside your prone form. There was a rattle in your breath and you’d been beaten to hell. Even in the dim light, he could see the cuts on your skin, the parts of you he could see swollen and discolored. They’d savaged you, your body broken and bleeding, and you’d only been out here because of him. Because he’d been so angry at you for something that wasn’t your fault. Fuck, you were the only thing left he cared about besides Tommy and you were bleeding because of him. If you died because of him, if he’d failed you the way he’d failed Sarah…

“Please,” you rasped, trying to lift your head but giving up, your eyes closed. Your voice surprised Joel, he hadn’t expected you to be conscious. “Please… I don’t…”

“It’s OK Baby Doll,” Joel said, his voice thick. “It’s me, you’re OK now. Gonna take real good care of you, you’re alright…”

“Joel?” You lifted your head and managed to open one eye. The other was swollen shut. “Joel, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Before he had a chance to stop you from moving, you reached a shaky hand into the pocket of your jeans and pulled out the watch. You held it out to him, your fingers bloody.

“I don’t think it’s any more broken,” you winced. “I tried to protect it, I’m sorry…”

He took it from you, your blood on the face and the band, a tightness in his throat he was struggling to breathe around.

“S’OK Baby Doll,” he said, putting it on his wrist quickly and reached for your head, to try to brush some bloody hair back from your skin, but you flinched away from him. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault.”

You took a deep, shaky breath like you were going to argue with him, but you didn’t get the chance.

“Look who it is.”

Joel stiffened, getting to his feet slowly, turning to face him.

“Almost expected you to not show up,” Pickett smiled. “She seemed damn sure she didn’t mean anything to ya, swore up and down that you wouldn’t even notice she was gone.” Joel’s stomach twisted. “Took you so long I was starting to believe her.”

Pickett prowled closer.

“Course I’d hoped she’d be enough to draw you out,” he said. “Getting tired of tip-toeing around you and your fuckin’ brother. But if she wasn’t, at least she was fun. Didn’t even get a chance to let my guys have the real fun with her yet, though. Figured I’d see if we could knock her teeth out first, bet she’d suck real good then. But looks like you took care of them, so I guess she’s off the hook.”

Joel roared and lunged for Pickett, swinging for him as he did. The other man had either underestimated Joel or overestimated himself, because he tried to dodge him and failed, Joel’s shoulder catching him in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground. Before he had a chance to even get his bearings, Joel was on top of him, screaming as he pummeled him, raining the blows down on his face again and again and again.

For the first time since you’d disappeared, Joel felt like he was really doing something. This man had taken you, hurt you, was going to do more to you. Joel was doing what he was supposed to do. He was protecting you. He felt it in every blow he landed on the man’s face, in every collapsing structure below his skin, in every splash of blood. It wasn’t until he had stopped breathing and the blood had stopped pouring from his open wounds that he stilled, panting for breath as he looked at the mangled face of the man below him.

He stood, flexing his hand and looking at it, the split open knuckles, the mix of your blood and his own and Pickett’s on the watch. He wiped his hand on his shirt and went back to you, kneeling again.

“Joel,” you whimpered.

“He’s dead,” Joel said, his voice thick. “They’re all dead. Warned ‘em. Told ‘em what would happen if they fucked with you.”

He watched you work to swallow around your damaged throat as you nodded.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, fingertips gently tracing your face where you didn’t look battered. You flinched at first but relaxed. “Need to wait a bit to take you home. Too bright outside right now, FEDRA fucks would stop us…”

“Don’t need to worry about me,” you struggled to sit up for a moment before giving up and going limp on the floor. “It’s OK. Already did more than you should have. Go home in case FEDRA comes poking around and…”

“Not leaving you here,” he said gruffly.

You winced as you swallowed and fought to open the one eye you could.

“Don’t put yourself at risk for me,” you managed. “I’m not worth it, you know that and…”

“You’re worth it, Baby Doll,” he said softly, his hand on your face. “About the only thing in this fuckin’ place that is.”

You flinched as you frowned.

“No,” you shook your head a little. “No, you said…”

“Don’t matter what I said,” he cut you off, trying to ignore the stabbing guilt in his chest. Fuck, the things he’d said to you. “I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean a fuckin’ word of it. I was pissed at myself, I was hurting, I took it out on you and I never should have said or done any of it, Baby Doll, never. I didn’t mean it, not a word of it and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back, I wish I could take all of it back…”

He lay beside you, delicately holding your face, his eyes tracing over you. He memorized the damage done, the signs of all the pain he knew you were in. All because he hadn’t told you about Sarah, because he’d hurt you, because he’d failed you. He wouldn’t do that again. He was not going to let you suffer because of him again. You tried to move closer to him but he put his hand on your hip and held you still, instead moving toward you. You winced as you pressed against him but it didn’t stop you. He held you gently, feeling you breathe against him.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” your voice was muffled. “I didn’t mean to, I promise…”

“Shh,” he hushed you, tears stinging his eyes. He’d done this to you. Made you feel like, even this broken, it was your fault. “It’s not your fault. None of it. I’ve got you, Baby Doll. Gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good care of you if you let me. Please let me.”

You were quiet, passing out against him. He held you like that, letting himself feel for you, letting himself fall into that dangerous place with you. He stopped fighting the gravity of loving you until it was dark enough to safely carry you home.

He got you cleaned up, patching you up as best he could before giving you some pain meds from a stash he hadn’t traded away yet and carrying you to bed. He held you there, too, his body curved around yours, shielding you from anything that could hurt you and promised himself, silently, that he’d never see you like this again. Because he was going to take care of you. He was going to protect you, he was going to love you, until there was nothing else left of him and he was dead and gone.

He ran a gentle hand over your head and pressed a kiss to your hair, the glass of the watch reflecting the light of the moon, sending fractured splotches of light on your wall. He wasn’t going to fail again. That much, Joel knew.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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