#about finding that shining light from point A to point B and not worrying about the rest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Sense

❧ Pairing: Alpha!Daryl Dixon x Female Omega!Reader ❧ Era: Season 2 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—a/b/o dynamics (leave me alone), rough sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, doggystyle, unprotected sex, knotting (shut up), heat/rut (fuck you), outdoor sex (?), like one or two mentions of breeding, swearing, Shane being creepy ❧ Word Count: 9.2k

❧ Prompt: "What do you even see in this guy?" from the Norman Reedus Whores Discord Prompt Challenge (more info here)

❧ Summary: It's that time of year again, the time when yours and Daryl's highest point of sexual desire sync up. There are a few problems, though: Daryl's preoccupied with finding Sophia, and Shane is getting a little too... attracted to you.

❧ A/N: Here it is, my first foray into omegaverse. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain, as they say. I've become the villain. Nevertheless, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out and I didn't cringe too much while writing it so hopefully you don't cringe too much while reading it either (but it's ok if you do—omegaverse is always a little cringe).

Gold-tinted light streamed through the thin fabric of the polyester tent, allowing tiny particles of dust to shine as they floated past the ever-widening beam that shone across your eyelids, causing them to flutter open with a wince.

Something about summers in Georgia seemed to make the sun even more intense, and the heat that radiated from it even more oppressive. You wiggled yourself loose in his arms, tightly wrapped around you from the back. He always tended to cling tighter to you in his sleep, as if it was some kind of unconscious instinct.

With a huff, you turned on your side to face him, tucking your head between the crook of his neck and the pillow in an attempt to escape the bright light of early morning, and to cling to the last remnants of sleep for as long as you could.

It was also an excuse to take in his scent, strong and woody, yet somehow also soft and musky. By force of habit, he held you closer, his arm tightening over the curve of your side as his nose gently nuzzled your cheek, tickling you awake.

“Goddamn, it’s bright,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the morning light from burning his eyes. Blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight, and his were no exception.

“Mm…” you hummed. Despite your state of consciousness, you felt more like you were in one of those dreams that are so vivid they almost seem real, with fuzziness blurring the usually harsh edges of your perspective. Mornings were always like this, slow and quiet. Even with the world gone to shit, at least you still had this, that one constant—waking up next to him, in those bulky arms made muscular from years of hunting with that silly crossbow. Well, you used to think it was silly. Now you couldn’t complain, since it certainly came in handy against the walkers.

Ah, yes—the walkers. The only thing that could possibly ruin the peace of your morning. That, and Sophia was missing. Still missing.

Daryl had been beating himself up about it for the last three days, not able to rest a second since coming to the Greene farm. He was hellbent on finding the child, relating the situation to the time he’d been lost in the woods when he was even younger than her. Only difference for him was that no one cared enough to look for him.

But it was an inopportune time for the young girl to go missing. You could smell it on him.

A necessary fact of life. It would happen twice, maybe three times in any given year, but it was enough to threaten his ability to find that little girl. It was radiating off him stronger and stronger with each passing hour, starting around dawn just the day before. For Daryl, it came quick and fast, a scab demanding to be picked, an itch begging to be scratched, a biological imperative he had no choice but to succumb to at some point, but he was determined to keep it off as long as he had to.

You worried for him, knowing how strong his urge was, and how much it clouded his mind and ate at his insides. For some men like him, it was much less intense, much more tolerable. For him, however, it was nearly painful, but he had to put it off, he thought. He couldn’t put himself before that poor soul lost in the forest, before the grieving mother whose glassy eyes haunted him everyday that child was gone, in danger of being torn apart by flesh-eating monsters.

“Daryl,” you mumbled, feeling him begin to squirm restlessly against you. You knew him well enough to know he was trying to shake the rut out of him, trying to ignore it, though he knew it wasn’t good for him. You tried to hold him steady, pulling the blanket further up his body as if to keep him contained, but the fresh sweat beading on his bare chest was a reminder of just how terribly hot he already was. “Why don’t you stay here today, huh? Don’t go out there… Just rest.”

Just rest, a phrase that had been on your lips many times before, but always seemed to go unheard by the stubborn man. Such a suggestion was practically against the man’s religion, if he had cared enough to believe in one. There was less and less to believe in these days, anyway.

“Nah,” he replied gruffly, suddenly sitting up in your shared cot to squint in dismay at the sun streaming in. “That kid’s still out there.”

You huffed and watched him move like a rabid animal as he frantically searched for his clothes, cursing under his breath when he picked up one of your jeans instead of his. “Told ya to keep your clothes separate, woman,” he huffed, shaking his head as he buttoned up his raggedy plaid shirt.

“Mm,” you hummed with a smile, amused by his characteristic grumpiness, though you knew he was a little more irritable than usual, despite his denial. “Keeps my scent on you… Speaking of which…” You sat up to stretch, taking a deep breath as you did so. Even in your own state of slight discomfort, you were always much better at handling it than he was. “Your scent is getting stronger, you know.”

He tilted his head in slight annoyance, knowing that was your way of nagging him about his rut. “I’m fine,” he said simply. “Just stressed.”

You narrowed your eyes at the notion. “Your smell doesn’t get stronger when you’re stressed, Daryl. It gets stronger when you’re—”

“Damnit, woman!” he barked. “I ain’t ruttin’, Christ.”

“Mhm, sure… Well, my heat’s coming.”

Even after three years of being with you, he still turned a light shade of red whenever you so bluntly referred to sex. Still, if your heat was coming, that meant his rut was coming, too. At this point, they were synced, not an uncommon occurrence for mated alphas and omegas such as yourselves.

Daryl had never quite come to terms with being an alpha, but that’s what he was, and though he often found himself frustrated with his condition, at least he had you.

And, oh, you…

You with your scent, the one that he’d memorized and somehow could conjure up in moments when he needed you most, but that wasn’t good enough. He needed you next to him, physically. He always did. He knew that from the moment he first held you that he wouldn’t be able to go without you again, without feeling your closeness, or taking in your sweet, floral scent.

Sitting there before him, his ratty grey t-shirt two sizes too big draped over your shoulders, just perfectly accentuating the outline of your breasts as they rise and fall with each breath, you looked… ripe.

Ripe in that you were at your most delectable state, your highest point of primal attraction. You were always beautiful, of course, but in your heat, you were irresistible. He hadn’t been oblivious to it the past few days, weeks even. He knew your body so well now that he had your heat down to an exact science. He knew it was coming, and if your heat’s coming, then his rut is coming, but he didn’t have time for that now, not with the responsibility he had put on his own shoulders.

Still, it was hard to say no, hard not to get back in that cot and take you, tightly gripping your hot, aching body against his as his swelling knot grew inside you, binding you to him even long after he’d released himself into you.

No time for that, though. Not when he had a job to do.

“I know,” he said, acknowledging that you were on the verge of your heat, that you were going to need him just as much as he needed you soon. “But I gotta look.” He turned to strap his crossbow over his broad chest, the one that made you lick your lips just thinking about your hands all over the muscular tissue. “Gotta find that little girl.”

If there was one thing you loved about Daryl, it was his compassion, his willingness to risk his life to save the weak. Maybe most people didn’t get to see that side of him, but now that he had the opportunity, he could fully be the good man you always knew he was. It was sweet, but it was selfless. Too selfless.

You tossed the blanket from your body, exposing your bare legs to the air, drawing his eyes immediately to the darkened bit of fabric at the front of your panties, just barely covered by the hem of his shirt.

With your sudden movement, he caught a deep whiff of you, a more pungent scent than usual emitting from your core as you walked a few steps towards him.

The feeling of your hands on his chest sent a powerful signal to his brain, one that rang out like a siren, screaming at him to give in. He could tell what you were doing just by the flutter of your lashes, the smirk in your lip, the curl of your fingers as they trailed playfully up and down the collar of his shirt. You wanted him to touch you, to make that slight pain in your core go away before it got too intense, to rid you of that heat building up inside you like a house fire. He wanted that, too. It was impossible not to let your body press up against his, not to feel the hardness of your aroused nipples against his chest, not to rest his hands upon your hips as your forehead touched his.

“Please stay,” you whispered over his lips. “I need my alpha.”

Those words were strategically chosen. You knew reminding him of his possession of you, his omega, would get that chest of his pumped full of hot air and his cheeks reddened with a surge of blood flowing to his head. Not only that, but the possession in your voice, the tone that reminded him that he was yours just as much as you were his.

He could only muster a few deep, strangled sighs as your hungry lips pursed to kiss just below his ear, making his hands grip harder at your sides and pull you closer until he could feel your heat against his groin, your core getting hotter and hotter with each passing moment, and your scent becoming so irresistible that he found himself subconsciously, ever so slightly, grinding his lower body against yours.

With a turn of his head, he let your lips meet his, despite how much he knew he was just teasing himself, and you, now. There was no way he could stay, no way he could let that helpless child stay out there any longer. Still, if he could allow himself just one moment to satiate his need for you, he would, even if it only eased a small part of his primal lust.

“I want your knot,” you whispered sloppily, wildly as your tongue became more desperate to taste his, breaching the entrance of his mouth to lap up his taste.

He growled low at your words, his hand rising up to tangle in your hair and pull your face as close as it could get. The other hand found itself squeezing your bottom, fingertips digging into the plump flesh as he held you steady to better thrust himself against you, your slick beginning to seep through the thin fabric of your panties and onto the surface of his jeans.

“(Y/N)...” he panted. “I—I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” you panted back, now putting your own hand on the back of his head to pull his lips back to yours. When his lips peeled away, you used your free hand to drag his down to cup your clothed mound, allowing his fingers to graze the puddle of wetness. “My body needs you, Daryl… Just you. Only you.”

Another tried and true method for getting him to shut up and screw you, but the closest you got was thrusting back and forth on his palm, using it to relieve the slightest amount of tension from your aching body. It worked for a moment, but soon you nearly sent him backwards with the force of your body writhing on his hand, and you knew you couldn’t get anywhere with it—you needed the intense friction of his cock, the feeling of it pulsing inside you and hitting the deepest part of you just right.

“Oh, God,” your lips mumbled as they sloppily massaged his. “Fuck me now.”

He pulled his hand away swiftly, using it to separate his body from yours, as he was sure he couldn’t go another moment of being that close to you without ending up back on that bed.

“Later,” he said, followed by a hard swallow as he tried to calm himself down. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face and wettening the short strands of caramel brown hair stuck to either side.

His body heat showed no signs of dropping, not until he could get far away from you, and he could already tell that if he stayed with you today, he wouldn’t leave for hours after he’d knotted you. There was too much work to be done, and his own biological need would have to wait. He just hoped you could wait, too, though something about the deep, trembling frown dragging on your face told him you couldn’t. At least, not without some struggle.

“Hey,” he said, trying to muster up the strength to touch you without losing it. His hands cupped your cheeks, on fire from the sheer intensity of your internal heat. “I gotta try to find that kid. It’s eatin’ me up inside.”

You mustered a small smile. He was always so damn selfless, it infuriated you. Well, it was what made you fall in love with him, besides the innate biological attraction that drew you to him. Your life philosophy had always been this: there are plenty of alphas, but a good alpha is hard to come by. Daryl was a good alpha, the only one you could tolerate, the only one you could love. You were sure of that.

Soulmates… As cheesy as it sounded, you knew it from day one, from the moment he walked up to you in that sleazy dive bar, face blurred from the cigarette smoke curling in grey clouds all around him, his hands tucked deep in his jean pockets as he cleared his throat, then stuttered, “C-can I, uh… Can I buy ya a drink?”

If you couldn’t tell by his scent, you would’ve thought he was a beta, but his scent was always strong—you were sure it was because he was immediately attracted to you, and your scent hit him like a semi-truck, too. It was love at first… scent.

No, Daryl was unlike any other alpha male you’d ever met, but he was one. That was impossible to deny.

“I know,” you said with a nod. Lifting his hand from your cheek, you pressed a light kiss to his palm, then nuzzled deeper into his touch. That damn man’s hands... Being held by him felt like being a porcelain teacup carefully tucked away in layers of sturdy bubble wrap, cushioned and protected from any cracks that could threaten to mar your fragile surface. “But your rut is eating you up inside too… It’s not good to hold it back for so long.”

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but be grateful for your concern, even slightly amused by how precious you were. “Always naggin’ me, woman, ya know that?”

“Mm, you wouldn’t last a day without me nagging you,” you laughed. Biting your lip, you reached up to fix his hair, still scraggly from his pillow. He scrunched his face in exaggerated annoyance, though even he couldn’t help but muster a boyish smirk at your doting.

As your eyes met his, another deep surge of pained arousal swept through you, triggering more slick to pool in your already soiled underwear. It was tempting to strip yourself of your shirt, knowing such a sight would be the ultimate trigger to get him to lay you down, but in your heart of hearts, you knew he needed to do this for your group. If you had to wait, you would wait, but you couldn’t wait much longer, you feared.

“When will you be back?”

“‘Fore dark.” He huffed and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, as anything else might’ve been dangerous. Noticing your eyes lower in disappointment, he nudged his forehead against yours. “Hey, omega,” he said softly. “You gonna be okay til I get back?”

No, you wanted to say, but you knew that would be a bit dramatic. Still, you knew from past heats that your need for him only grew stronger when he was gone, and if you were already leaking with slick now, who knows how bad you might get in the meantime.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I’ll be fine… I think. What about you?”

He scoffed playfully. “Woman, I’m gon’ be fine. Just be ready when I get back, a’right? I’m gonna need you even more.”

“Yes, sir,” you laughed. “Be careful, okay?”

“You too, and…” His voice trailed off, his face becoming less animated and more stern with each passing moment he went over the words he was about to say. “Stay in the tent.”

Never before had you gone through your heat around so many other alphas. Rick and T-Dog didn’t worry him much—Rick was married, bonded with Lori, and T-Dog seemed respectful of your bond with Daryl, but then there was… Shane.

Shane was an odd one in that though he was ostensibly an alpha, he seemed too emboldened, often disrespecting Daryl’s claim over you. On at least two occasions he had gotten much too close to you for your liking, and Daryl already had a pretty strong hunch that Shane had slept with Lori, a marked omega not unlike you.

It infuriated him, and he couldn’t even fathom how Shane could still be breathing at this point. If he caught even a whiff of that man on you, he’d strangle him with his bare hands, he was certain of it.

Knowing just how much Shane’s dilated eyes followed your body on a daily basis, he was sure your heat would attract him like a moth to a flame.

“Keep that thing on ya if you gotta go out,” he added, gesturing to the hunting knife he’d given you as it lay on the foldable bedside table. “That pig cop bastard touches you, I’ll—”

“He won’t touch me,” you interjected. “Your scent is strong enough to keep him away… My big strong alpha.” Your fingers tickled his chest as you smirked, holding back a chuckle at the cheesy compliment.

His heart fluttered, as it always did when you broke out the “big strong alpha” card. He was a sucker for it.

“A’right,” he said. “I love ya, sweet girl. Be back soon, hopefully with that kid.”

“Love you, too, Daryl.”

As he requested, you stayed in the tent for a while after he’d left, occupying yourself with the usual routine for your heat.

It wasn’t ideal, but the cot in your tent was the only place to make a nest of his clothes, a safe spot to immerse yourself in his scent until he came back to you.

Even that proved difficult, as you became quickly lightheaded, losing your balance each time you bent over to pick up another one of his shirts.

“Shit,” you cursed, holding your forehead and shutting your eyes tight to try to will away the dizziness. Every omega’s heat was different, and yours always had the worst dizziness, the worst fever, the worst throbbing pain in your womb.

It was your body’s instinctual way of demanding to be bred, and thank God you still had your birth control pills, even if your irrational, heat-ridden mind desperately wanted to carry Daryl’s child more than usual. There couldn’t be a worse possible time to bring a child into the world, you were sure.

The pounding in your head started now, in sync with each quickening beat of your anxious heart. It was as if the further Daryl got from the farm, the worse your symptoms became, the more every cell in your body screamed bloody murder in an attempt to call him back to you.

“Ah!” you quietly cried out. Doubling over in pain, you flopped yourself back onto the bed, its surface now draped in layers upon layers of every article of clothing Daryl had in his possession.

You buried your head in his pillow, trying desperately to surround yourself in his scent. It eased the pain slightly, tricking your mind into thinking he was there with you, holding you, but you lacked his warmth, his unique touch, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep as he held his deflating knot inside of you.

You reached down to find his favorite white undershirt, the one that always had the strongest scent. In desperation, you tugged off your shirt and laid the undershirt over your bare breasts, massaging them over top of the fabric.

It couldn’t beat the real thing, the real feeling of his chest pressed up to yours, but at least you’d get more of his scent on you, and at least your sensitive nipples could feel the familiar tickle of the ribbed fabric of that old tank top.

“Daryl…” you moaned shakily under your breath. You hadn’t realized just how bad it was, how much your heat had worsened just within a matter of the three hours he’d been gone.

The wetness was beginning to soak through your new pair of panties. You reached down to slip your fingers below the fabric, scooping up the slick as you tickled your aching clit.

Even just a little sensation was too much, and not at all the sensation you needed. Your body needed Daryl’s touch, not yours, not anyone else’s but his. The feeling stung, made you flinch in combined pain and pleasure. It might not have been him, but your hand was going to have to do if you wanted any semblance of relief before he got back.

You thrusted hard against your hand, arching your back with each movement as you desperately tried to soothe your body. All you could do was try to trick your heat-induced brain into thinking he was there, touching you… And moments later, when your fingers dug into you, squirming as they went in deeper and pumped hard to stimulate you, it almost worked.

“Oh, yes…” you sighed. “Daryl… Oh—”

“(Y/N)?”

Shane’s voice made you shoot up, sitting up straight to face the opening of the tent where the man’s silhouette was displayed from the outside.

Shit, you thought to yourself. What the hell does he want?

“(Y/N), you in there?”

“Yeah,” you huffed, quickly redressing yourself in Daryl’s shirt, then crossing over to haphazardly step into a pair of sweatpants. “Gimme a sec.”

Now semi-decent, you unzipped the flap of the tent, and swiftly stepped out to close it, hoping Shane couldn’t see the nest you’d made, or the wet spot on the bed.

Instead, you felt his eyes on you, trailing up and down your shirt, narrowing at the slight hardness of your nipples, still aroused from your touching.

“Everything okay?” you asked him, hoping to get him to leave as soon as he showed up.

He shrugged and folded his arms. “I was gonna ask you the same question. Ain’t seen ya since yesterday… Been in your tent all day. Thought you’d be out, I don’t know… doin’ laundry or somethin’.”

You scoffed, slightly offended by the assumption, though it wasn’t like there was much else to do. “I’m not feeling great,” you said simply, but you were sure he could tell why.

Indeed, he could. The scent was enough, much more potent and sweeter than usual, yet with much more of Daryl’s heavy scent than he liked. It was a bitter reminder that you were claimed, and the smell repulsed him, yet only made him want to cover it with his own.

“I know,” he said. “Your, uh… Your scent.”

Embarrassment. That was the only word you could think of to describe how you felt, and annoyance at his invasion of your privacy, but you weren’t confrontational enough to say anything. Not like Daryl.

“Yeah, well, uh… Did you need something?”

He lifted two silver pails in each hand, and you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Was gonna see if you’d help me pump some water from the well, if you’re up to it. Everybody else is busy, and I could use another hand.”

You always did have a hard time saying no, even if you knew your body was weak with your heat, but water was important, and maybe it could take your mind off your condition until Daryl would return, you reasoned.

Still, it was awfully bold of him to ask that of you, knowing you were in heat, and that you were with Daryl. You did as Daryl had told you—you took your knife and carried it in plain sight in the holder on your belt.

Each step you took alongside that man towards the well made you ache even more. Every muscle burned, and every dizzy spell became stronger until you sat with a huff on the wall of the well, taking a sip of your canteen as Shane readied the rope to lower his bucket.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” you sighed. “Just… I get really winded when I’m… Yeah.”

Shane nodded, watching closely as the water dripped from your chin, trickling onto your shirt and down below your collar.

“Don’t envy you,” he said. “Never been more inconvenient timing…”

“No,” you agreed. “No there hasn’t.”

You watched as he lowered the bucket, then pulled it back up with a strain of his muscles. Show-off, you thought, catching onto his less than subtle attempts to seduce you.

Filling his canteen from the pail, he sat himself down beside you, much too close for comfort.

His smell wasn’t too strong, but strong enough to make you sick. Any alpha’s scent besides Daryl’s would’ve made you nauseous now, and with Shane so close, his shoulder touching yours, you felt the bile in your stomach begin to rise at the base of your esophagus.

If he hadn't been there, it would’ve been nice. The warm August breeze tickling the nearby wind chimes, the birds chirping in the golden light of late afternoon, the placid quiet that settled in when all other sounds ceased… And then he nudged your shoulder again, offering you a misplaced smile before wrapping a loose arm around your shoulder, causing your spine to straighten in slight shock at the feeling.

“You all right?” he asked, rocking you back and forth with his hand curled on your shoulder.

Your cheek twitched in disgust at the whiff of his scent, much more powerful than usual in your heightened state. Aware of his scent rubbing off on you, you wriggled uncomfortably, thankfully causing him to remove his arm.

“I’m fine. Just need to get back soon. If Daryl knows I didn’t stay in the tent he’d skin me alive,” you laughed nervously.

“Where is Daryl?”

“Oh, um… He’s out looking for Sophia. Trying that new lead near the abandoned house.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thought he’d be here with you… With you like this.”

That’s none of your damn business, you thought, but of course, you were much too nice to say that, so instead you defended him.

“Well, he knows how much it means to everyone if we find her… He cares.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, thinking about him, his selflessness, his bravery, his kindness. Maybe he didn’t always show it, but ever since he lost Merle, he’d been coming into his own, embracing his true nature instead of trying to be something he wasn’t.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, and just that simple, dismissive sound was enough to get your blood boiling. “Think he oughta care more about you.”

“He cares a lot about me,” you quickly replied. “You don’t know anything about Daryl.”

“I know he should be here takin’ care of you…” He leaned closer looking you forcefully in the eye. He had a much more stern, intense look than you’d seen in him before.

His hand caught you off guard as he tugged on the collar of your shirt, revealing Daryl’s mark on the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Hey!” You pulled away, standing up to your feet and looking back at him with wild, confused eyes. He’d never touched you like that before, and it terrified you, knowing how many male alphas could turn violent at the drop of a hat, and Shane was particularly volatile, more so than Daryl or Rick or T-Dog. He was the only one who truly frightened you at times, and immediately you cursed yourself for agreeing to go anywhere with him.

He stood up to pull harder on you, tugging more at your shirt collar to glare at the scar made by the indentation of Daryl’s teeth over years of him marking you in that same spot.

“What do you even see in this guy?” he asked. “Sorry excuse for an alpha.”

You pulled away one last time, nearly ready to pull out your knife if you needed to.

“Fuck you,” you replied. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Don’t have to explain shit to you, Shane. I came out here to help, not to listen to you insult Daryl.”

You sidestepped around him to lift the filled pail. “I’m taking this back to camp. You can do the rest on your own,” you said, but he planted himself firmly in front of you, pushing you back towards the well. “Shane,” you said, “get out of my way.”

Before you knew it, he was lunging towards you, eyes locked on the crook of your shoulder, opposite of Daryl’s mark. If he’d gotten any further, you were sure he’d try to mark you by force.

Holding your knife to his neck, you pushed him away with all the strength you had. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you panted.

He shook his head, as if trying to shake out whatever desires he had. “I—I don’t…”

You didn’t wait for him to explain himself. There wasn’t any way he could, after all. He had come close to violating you, to marking you as some kind of encroachment upon you, upon Daryl’s mate.

The breeze hit you as you walked, wafting Shane’s faint smell up into your flaring nostrils. That bastard, you thought. The nerve… I can’t stand his fucking smell.

You couldn’t bear to bring that scent into your tent, so you sat several yards away from the camp, perched on a log as you hugged your legs against your chest, trying to let the scent of Daryl’s shirt envelop you.

That, and it seemed to be the only solution to easing your cramps, twice as bad as your run-of-the-mill menstrual cramps. The heat was unbearable as the sweat on your brow dripped and caught in your eyelashes, clouding your vision for a moment. You balled your fists and rubbed your eyes, and all the while, you swore you could smell Daryl’s scent getting stronger, as if it was carried by the breeze that gently flowed through your hair.

It was hypnotic, drawing your eyes up to instinctively look in the direction of the wind.

There he was, strutting towards you across the grassy field, sweat glistening on his bare, summer-tanned arms as his eyes narrowed at you. His look was somewhere between scolding and smoldering, with a heavy dose of desperation thrown in.

One thing was certain: he had one thing in mind when he saw you.

Picking up his pace and stepping with long strides, practically jogging, he tore his crossbow from his back and flung it to the ground, a coarse grunt combined followed by a deep huff as he swiftly moved closer, like a caged tiger about to be let out.

“Daryl?” you called out to him. You found yourself walking towards him, too, eyes locked on his heaving chest as his hands frantically worked to unbutton the top of his shirt.

The closer he got, the stronger his musky, earthy scent became—more potent and virile, more intoxicating as his energy surrounded you.

His hands separated now, one tugging on the middle button of his shirt, the other desperately loosening his belt buckle, the movement allowing the toned muscles of his arms to flex in the glow of the golden afternoon.

He’d been unsuccessful in his search, and the frustration of not finding Sophia only made his instinct stronger, his need greater, his arousal becoming more and more unbearable the longer he looked at you.

As he approached, there was only one thing on his mind, one sole purpose for him to commit to in that moment: taking you, filling you, breeding you.

Now with both hands on his belt, freeing the leather from the loops of his jeans, he dropped it carelessly, then quickly moved to the button.

He was only about two yards away, but it was too far. Your feet picked up the pace, until finally you were in his arms, limbs and tongues tangled around each other, breaths heavy and chests heaving, cores hot and aching.

Shane’s lingering scent didn’t even occur to you then, not even as Daryl’s nose sank into the crook of your neck, his hand pulling back the collar of your shirt as his tongue traced over the raised scar of his mark, tickling you.

Your own hands clung tight to his shirt, nearly tearing it as with every passing moment you became more frenzied, more impatient to feel his hot, bare skin under your fingertips.

When the warmth of his mouth slowly left your shoulder, and his rose up to narrow at you, somewhere between hunger and primal rage, you panicked, grasping his sweat-drenched cheeks in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. He pulled back with a low growl.

“Why’s his scent on you?”

Your hands tightened on his cheeks as you turned to stone, wanting nothing more than to ignore his questioning and carry on with the natural conclusion of your synced biological states. Daryl, however, was not going to forget so easily.

He knew you would never sleep with Shane. That was out of the question. Besides, if you had, Shane’s scent would’ve been much, much stronger, but it was concentrated on your shoulders, and it was fading, but repulsive nonetheless.

“He—”

“That bastard touch you?”

You froze for a moment, simultaneously terrified of the inscrutable look in his eyes, and aroused by the very same look.

“Tryin’ to put his filthy scent on ya?” he asked, more demandingly now, and yet with an oddly lustful lilt to his otherwise angered growl. “I’ll kill him… I’ll—”

“He barely touched me.”

Under your fingers, you felt his cheeks trembling in rage, his skin heat up from the inside out. He looked ravenous—out for blood, Shane’s blood. You couldn’t care less about that, though, as your body screamed to be touched, begged to be put out of its misery from the only person who could ever relieve you.

“He’s not my alpha,” you reminded him. “You are.” Even just a matter of moments was too much to handle like this, with the heat oppressing you from every possible angle, suffocating you. Being away from Daryl during this time was hard, but being too close and not having him touch you was worse.

You lifted your shirt above your head, rustling your hair in the process, then hurriedly removed your bra, finally freeing half your body from its cloth prison. Under normal circumstances, you’d never strip yourself out in the open, but right now? You were far enough from the camp not to care, and the heat was closing in all around you.

Pupils dilated, swallowing the usually gentle blue in a black hole of lust, his eyes glued to your bare breasts. If your goal was to distract him from his fury, it was working.

“Alpha,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his hot, clammy neck, drenched in sweat that could’ve been from the Georgia summer heat, but you were sure it was also just his condition, his rut taking over every function of his aching body. “You’re the only one… My mate.”

His eyes darted to your shoulder, his mark. It was his physical reminder that you belonged to him, that the first time you made love during your heat, he loved you enough to leave that unique, intimate mark in the shape of his teeth, one he’d never given to anyone else before, and never would again.

Most of all, it reminded him that no one else could touch you, that he was the only man who could know the intensity of your sweet scent, the softness of your body, the sounds of your heavy whimpers as he filled you until his knot swelled, keeping him in place.

When his fingers trailed along the raised skin of your scar, you shivered at his touch. His face turned soft, yet strained with lust. Tilting his head, his other hand held your chin, maneuvering your head so he could nudge his nose against your cheek, his heavy breath blowing gentle, yet insistent, puffs.

His lips softly brushing against your face, he whispered in your ear: “You need me, huh?”

Clutching your hands to his shoulders, desperate to tug off his shirt, you whimpered under your breath, sighing deeply all the while.

“Omega needs ‘er alpha?” he asked lowly against your ear.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer, your hands scrambled up to tangle in his hair, pulling his lips to yours.

“Now,” you mumbled into his mouth. “Need you… now…”

He nodded frantically as he worked to undo the last buttons on his shirt, then carelessly tossed the fabric to the ground.

“Right here?” he asked, panting between kisses. Usually, such an idea would be out of the question for the private man, who never liked the idea of being so vulnerable out in the open like this, but he didn’t care much now. The tightness in his jeans and the dull ache all throughout his body made him lose sight of that, as much as he could. Privacy be damned. “Ain’t… ain’t you w-want your… nest?”

Shaking your head vehemently as his lips chased yours, desperate to cling to them, you pulled him down with you as you lowered yourself to the ground, until you sunk down into blades of sage green grass, faded by exposure from the hot summer sun.

Daryl’s laugh melted on your tongue like an ice cube, its cadence swallowed by your open mouth as you devoured him.

His weight on top of you provided some relief, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed was his body inside of yours, inhabiting it, reminding you again and again just who it belonged to. You didn’t really need the reminder, of course, but the thought of belonging to him was all the more arousing.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in tranquilized bliss when his body weight shifted, and he quickly pulled your pants and sodden underwear down to your ankles, where you kicked them off with a wiggle.

Before you knew it, his hands were hiking up the back of your thighs, resting them on his shoulders as he dove down to lick the slick that had settled between your folds. As the tip of his tongue swirled around your clitoris, your shoulders tensed and you let out a sharp hiss. It was already so sensitive, aching for more friction to stimulate the bundle of nerves.

He lowered his hand to curl two of his thick, calloused fingers inside of you, while his tongue sucked and lapped at the sensitive bud that begged for attention.

“Ah!” you cried out wildly, shaking as your hands gripped the grass, pulling it out in frustration. His fingers were not yet deep enough to relieve you of your desire, but his tongue moved so expertly that with each swirl you felt a new little shockwave pulse through you. “Yes! Oh!”

His fingers sank deeper now, pulling in and out of you rapidly, the palm of his hand hitting your sensitive outer parts each time.

Peeling his mouth away, he watched as the clear liquid pooled onto his hand, the slick glistening in the last light of the golden summer afternoon.

“Never seen ya make this much, girl,” he panted, pumping faster and faster to get you properly loosened up. After all, his knot would need enough room to sink inside you. “All this pretty slick… Just for me.”

With that curl of his fingers, you gasped, arching your back and throwing your arms over your face as you tried not to scream, but the feeling was intense. You were always so much more sensitive in your heat, and however he touched you, you were going to feel it ten times as strong.

“F-fuck!” you croaked out against your arm. The harder he went, the more your voice stuttered, the more your body bounced with his hand burying into you. “Alpha-a-a!”

“Shhh,” he said, holding his finger to his lips as he leaned over you, his other hand ceasing its harsh movement to gently caress your aching clit. “Keep it down, girl.”

He looked quickly back in the direction of the camp and the Greenes’ farmhouse, hoping they were still a good distance away, and that the view of the two of you couldn’t be so easily seen from behind the bushes and the smattering of oak trees.

Lunging up to fling your arms around him, he grabbed onto you in surprise at the sudden movement, and huffed as your lips attacked his cheeks, then trailed down to his mark, the small indentation of your own teeth on his shoulder.

His hand didn’t forget its job, though. He cupped your mound to once again penetrate you with his fingers, spreading them open inside you to better stretch you out.

As his fingers dug into you, your teeth sunk into his flesh, reopening the old wound once again until a few drops of blood could be tasted on your tongue.

He held you tighter with his other arm, digging his fingernails into your back as he groaned. “(Y/N)…”

In a fit of impatience, you reached down to begin tugging his unzipped pants from his body. He smirked against your lips, amused by how much you needed him. He needed you, too, though. It was torture not to be inside you, but he knew himself well enough to know he could hold out for a while, though not for long.

He maneuvered himself to help you remove his jeans, your hands constantly fighting with his, though both had the same goal. Both of you were wild, returned to a primal state of need and desperation. You were bound to each other by flesh and scent, and it only made the need for each other so much stronger, so unbearable in the most blissful way. It was torture, it was agony, and yet it was the most pure, beautiful feeling of yearning.

When he was bare, unburdened by the restraints of his clothes and now free in his natural state, he bent his knees under your thighs, and with his hands, pulled you up to his core until the tip of his cock met your slit.

He cursed himself for losing his patience, as the feeling of you grazing against him sent a sharp electrical current through him, more potent than anything he’d felt before.

“Fuck,” he cursed, holding you tighter by your lower back as he lowered you onto his cock.

Your head once again buried in his shoulder, you groaned as he let you sit, his cock burrowing deeper every second. “Oh, God… Daryl…”

“Just… stay still for a minute.”

He took a deep breath, holding you in your position as you sat upright with his legs underneath, and his cock now as deep as it could go. All you needed was for him to move and you’d be writhing, with an imminent release soon upon you, but he just needed the stillness for a moment, to bask in the feeling of completeness, of filling you perfectly and so effortlessly, as though your bodies were made for each other.

He felt your slick drip down his inner thigh, and with that, he fell forward, taking you down with him until your back was once again against the grass.

“Oh!” you cried in shock.

His hand trailed up your sides, then in a split second, he pinned your arms above your head, just as he began violently thrusting, hovering over you with an intense look of purpose.

His thrusts were fast, sloppy, wild… Yet his cock was angled so perfectly, and the friction of his body hitting your clit with each movement was inching you closer and closer to the climax, the one you needed to feel relief from your heat.

Usually, he went slower, much more precise and sensual, but in his rut, he couldn’t hold back like he did. It was pure, uninhibited, primal lust, and you felt it, too. Clenching your teeth and letting out a hiss, you struggled to tug your arms out from the grip of his hands. Sensing this, he loosened his hands, allowing you to lean up to pull him to your face, his body still wildly moving in and out of you. Your head leaned in to catch his lips with yours, and soon your tongues were inside the other’s mouth, swirling around in untamed circles.

You always needed the closeness of him, to feel his chest pressed against yours, so you held him tight as his cock pumped back and forth within the walls of your twitching entrance.

With a strained grunt delivered straight to your gaping mouth, he reached down to manually wrap your legs tight around his lower back. Your heels dug into his ass, keeping him steady for a moment as he paused inside of you to take a breath.

In the crook of your neck and shoulder, he kissed your mark. Mirroring his action, you did the same to his, while the nails of your tightly drawn fingers made shallow scratches in the skin of his back.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “You feel so good, omega.”

You laughed and grabbed his cheeks to turn his face back to yours. He looked a sight—red blotches adorning his cheeks, hefty beads of sweat trickling down his strained forehead, lips quivering and drenched in your saliva and slick. Sweat-soaked hair framed his face as the darkened strands stuck to the skin. Redness had even pooled in his chest, which heaved exhaustingly over yours.

As he caught his breath, you snaked your hand between your bodies, lowering it to your clit. The closer you got to your orgasm, the more stimulation you needed to maintain the tingly feeling in your core, so you circled your finger rapidly, feeling yourself on track towards bliss.

The sudden attention made you flinch and clench around him, sending him grunting as his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck!” he groaned. “Ah, yeah… Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pumped himself inside you again, hitting your most sensitive spot while you touched yourself, and it was only a matter of seconds now until you reached your peak. He knew that, too. His body was in sync with yours by now, and soon your bodies would be locked together, but first you needed to have your own release.

Still, he felt his knot begin to form around the base of his cock, swelling as he moved back and forth. As he hit into you, your entrance stretched more and more, preparing for your orgasm, and his knot.

“Oh, God!” you whimpered. “I—I… Daryl…”

“I got ya…” he panted back, in that deep, raspy whisper. “Come for your alpha…”

It was the last straw, the last little bit of motivation you needed as he thrusted into you harder, and your walls began to pulse with each shockwave of your orgasm.

Your body went limp underneath him as your mouth hung open to release a series of low moans. “Jesus…” you sighed.

He smiled and lowered himself to kiss you, taking in every labored breath. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you laughed deliriously.

He lifted his head back up, holding himself above you with his arms outstretched to support his body weight as he began to thrust again.

But he could sense something that froze him in place, a whiff of putrid scent lingering on the breeze.

“Shit,” he huffed.

Catching the last remnants of Shane’s scent, he growled and pulled himself out with a small cascade of your arousal.

“Turn around,” he said lowly.

Not waiting for you to answer, his hands gripped either side of your waist to maneuver your body until you were on all fours. “Daryl,” you panted in surprise.

The incessant pounding in his head was too loud to hear your voice call out to him, too loud to hear your strained whimper as his cock filled you again, this time with his knot so close to its most swollen state.

You felt his body align with yours, gluing itself to your back. His teeth dug hard into your flesh, with each deep, purposeful thrust making you groan in combined pleasure and pain.

To his frustration, Shane’s scent became stronger, more potent. It was sickening, but you couldn’t even notice it, not when Daryl’s scent surrounded you in a thick, hazy cloud.

No, you didn’t notice. You couldn’t even see Shane approaching in the distance, but Daryl did.

He growled against your shoulder, eyes glowering to meet Shane’s as he froze in place. He must’ve been going out to collect firewood, as he usually did around this time, but that was of no consequence to Daryl, whose rage-induced lust only got stronger.

Shit, he saw Shane’s lips move to say. He was too far away to hear, but still close enough to see the look of panic, and jealousy, on his face.

Under normal circumstances, Daryl would’ve jumped up and ran to put his clothes on, but there wasn’t going to be any separation of your bodies now, not even if he tried. He couldn’t betray his primal need, and neither could you. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to let Shane know just who you belonged to.

“Oh, fuck!” you blurted out as his body thrusted hard into you, his cock penetrating the deepest part of your insides. “Daryl!”

He dug his teeth deeper into your shoulder, making you cry out once again. “Alpha!”

“That’s right,” he panted into your ear. “I’m your alpha… Scream for me.”

“Oh, yes! Daryl!”

He didn’t want you to keep it down now. With Shane near, that hideous reminder of his scent on the air, he needed you to scream, to let the bastard know once and for all that you were bound for life to him, no one else.

Shane was still dumbfounded, intrigued by the sight, but repulsed, too. He simply couldn’t look away, until Daryl’s snarl became so violent that he found himself backing away, finally yielding to the superior man, the superior alpha.

Daryl’s lip quirked slightly to one side. His show of dominance had worked. He could be embarrassed about it later, but now? Now, he felt his knot swell up again, almost so big now that he could no longer pull himself out.

You felt it, too, the tightness at your entrance as his knot stretched you much further than it had in a long time. He could only knot during his rut, but you knew this was no ordinary rut.

“Feel that?” he sloppily groaned against your shoulder. “Feel my knot?”

Rendered speechless, you nodded frantically as your arms threatened to fold underneath you. They shook to stabilize you, but soon his body stopped moving entirely, and all you could feel was that knot keeping him in place, seconds before his climax.

“Fuck!” he cried out. “Shit, I—I’m…”

You felt his cock begin to twitch deep inside you, spreading his spend in the deepest recesses of your core, where you felt his warmth embrace you.

With a gasp, your arms finally gave out, taking Daryl down with you, and with your head buried in the grass, you let out a deep sigh of relief. Something within you switched off, and finally, your heat was over.

Exhaustion swiftly took over Daryl, and he rolled onto his side with you in his arms, and you knew the two of you would be like this for a while, possibly all night. His knot would take hours to go away, it usually did.

You felt his lips gently purse against the skin of your neck, repeating several times as he worshipped you and the taste of your sweat.

“Shit, that was good,” he huffed, laughing a little to himself at the look on Shane’s face. Soon he’d find himself fuming again, needing to throw a few choice words at the insufferable man, but he’d rather bask in the afterglow for now. Besides, he was king of the jungle now, as far as he was concerned.

Blissfully unaware of the situation, you giggled and wrapped your hand around his. “Mm, so good… And you tried to tell me you weren’t rutting.”

He shook his head and bit your neck just a little, eliciting a small faux whimper from you. “Hey!” you laughed.

“You know just how to push my buttons, huh?”

“Better than anyone else.”

Holding each other in the grass, night fell over you like a blanket, and soon all you could hear were crickets and toads, and the faint tinkling of the wind chimes from the Greene house porch.

Soon you were lulled to sleep, with Daryl just barely dozing off, but he tried to keep awake, in case of the off chance a walker stumbled out of the woods.

In the morning, he’d have to corner Shane, to further reiterate the point he tried to prove earlier, to reassert his dominance.

That could wait, though. For now, he just held you, wondering what you were dreaming about.

He just hoped he was in it.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

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presleyanswrites · 6 months

Note

Babes I have a request I was thinking JJ Maybank fic inspired buy the song always by Isak Danielson

There is one line from the song that I want JJ to specifically say to the reader it’s “ will we end up just like Ross and Rachel am so sorry for the spoiler but that’s the end”

You can decide if you want there to be smut or not

🤍🤍

a/n: thank you for this love!

word count 1,155

warnings: fluff, swearing

masterlist

it was a cold friday night.

you got into a very heated conversation with your parents, and the only truth is that JJ was your complete escape from reality.

you were out with your beautiful blonde boy under the stars, the chilly night air peircing into your ears, making your cheeks stingy and pink.

the cold air blew past the two of you, giggling as you took turns laying in the grass and pointing at the constellations.

he was in awe with your love for natrual nature in the evening.

In fact, JJ was quite obsessed with your little passions. How cute your face lit up when you talked about something that clearly had filled your mind for hours at a time, and one of those were your love for how the stars shined each night.

"n' thats the big dipper." you pointed up in the dark painted atmosphere, showing him your favorite connections the night had made for the both of you in the cool grass.

after a while, you sighed and rolled on top of JJ, putting your hands in his jacket pockets as he slightly flinched from the chill in your hands.

"you're so cold." he whispered as he tucked his head where he could see your flushed face.

you hummed in reply, feeling JJ tuck a peice of hair that fell in your gorgeous eyes back behind your ear.

when you looked back at the stars, you scrunched your face in a way that he remembered as something that may have been bothering you.

"you okay, dear?" he gently asks, shifting his position on his arm to look at you laying in the soft grass.

"yeah." you huff, "jus' my parents."

"what about them?" he swallows. he knew that they had always been on your ass about everything lately, and how much you hated being yelled at, how it made your heart hurt in a way that certainly broke his.

"they want me to go to college." you start to feel the tears overtake your eyes.

"far, far away from here."

JJ studies your eyes, his forehead creasing in worry.

"far away from you," you start, voice slightly breaking.

he purses his lips and crooks his head up, squinting his eyes tightly. it was something he damn well knew was coming for the two of you, and he had been putting the thought of separating away in the back of his mind for a while, and now it came back to blow up in both of your faces.

you weren't ready to leave him, and he was certainly not ready to leave you, either.

you were all he had besides the pogues, he couldn't bear the feeling of his father, and he really knew he couldn't bear the loss of you.

you threw on a slight smile and melted your gaze into his.

"wouldn't you say theres always a light in the darkest moments?"

he softly smiled back at you, his white teeth almost kissing your eyes. he could feel the pain in his chest. he loved you. He loved that you always tried to find the good in all the hardest moments the both of you had overcome this seinor year.

he gently reached his hand over to stroke your hair.

"we'll be brave."

you nod and press your head to his.

"do we need a taxi?" you ask, suddenly thinking of the time and how you were going to get home, being out in the middle of completely no where.

he slightly tuts makes a puff in his cheeks. "i dont wanna go and see our friends, honestly."

"why not?" you make a face and tilt your head in confusion.

"i wanna be here with you." he pouts.

"sure." you roll your eyes, "n' whats the real reason?"

"just that." he grimaces, "and john b. hes mad i dented the hms pouge."

you half snort "what?"

"it doesn't matter," he sighs.

the two of you stay silent for a while, holding hands and looking at the stars before jj turns his head to you and gently whispers, "you wanna go get coffee?"

you smile from ear to ear, your throat and stomach absolutely being torn from the feeling of butterflies.

besides laying in fields, surfing, boat rides, and stargazing, going to get coffee was something so simple that JJ and you had cherished since your first real date with him.

after you made it to the shop, the two of you shared giggles over instagram stories and talked for hours until the barista kicked the two of you out.

the crickets we're chirping softly as jj was holding your hand, swinging it back and forth as you walked slowly on the dirty sidewalk.

the sound of the waves next to you, with your favorite boy.

the breeze, the salty air.

you felt content with him.

As the both of you made your way back to the house, you pressed your keys into the door, pushing it open and tossing your shoes on the floor, slamming into the couch. you felt exhausted.

JJ made his way next to you, snaking his arms around you and tucked a soft kiss to your hair.

"you wanna do somethin'?"

you giggle a little as you feel him carry a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Friends?" you sigh, as his face lights up.

JJ sits straight and puts his arm back around you, turning your crappy TV on that he always loved to come over and watch. his dad never let him have one at the house, so he liked to enjoy having a girlfriend to watch random netflix series with.

after almost five bowls of candy and popcorn, and even ten times the amount of episodes, JJ rests the back of his neck on you, fiddling with his lighter before gently asking.

"do you think we will end up like ross n' rachel?"

you let yourself laugh like a little girl, feeling your heart melt out of your chest.

"shit." he groans, "sorry for the spoiler, but thats the end of it."

you make an exaggerated gasp, "JJ!"

"you watched the rest of the series without me?" you whine, kicking your feet at him.

"okay okay, im sorry! im sorry! i had to."

"and whys' that?" you look up at him, making a pouted face.

"i wanted to watch all the sexy scenes and imagine all of it was you."

you almost cough out your popcorn.

"what?" your mouth drops in shock

he snickers as you throw a peice of candy in his face. "you did not!"

"you're fucking hot, you cant blame me for fantasizing how lucky i would be-"

"uh uh uh," you press your finger to his lips as he kisses it and winks. "no."

"one day," he shrugs and puts on a big smile.

you huff as he rubs your arm to keep you warm.

tags @cafekitsune @theblackcatwitch4 join my taglist ♡

©presleyanswrites please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my work to other platforms.

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zvdvdlvr · 2 years

Note

I don’t know if you take requests if yes then could you pretty please do a Cedric Diggory and/or Theodore Nott fluff alphabet

Thanks✨

fluff alphabet; cedric diggory

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

ok but i really do believe that cedric diggory needs to always be holding your hand or, in case ur not a physical person, know that he's always by your side. i do be thinking though that cedric will always be down for almost any kind of pda

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

the forst thing i thought of while reading this is that there are two types of best friends reacting to their bestie's break-up: the one thats all "omg bae im so sorry!! do you need to talk? lets watch some movies and ill get all the ice cream and you tell me everything" and then "ok... any suggestions for what we'll do with the dead body?" out of these, cedric's fr the first one.

as a best friend, cedric 100% will point and laugh at people you dont like, and will undoubtedly stand up for you and ur presence if you aren't there.

and he will buy you Christmas gifts (if u celebrate) and will spoil u on ur birthday

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES. PLEASE.

he loves spooning (specifically him as little spoon but he dgaf if u dgaf) and will 100% fall asleep with you. cedric, for one, lovesss being in between your legs (hey now 🤨📸) with his head on your stomach and he's just all wrapped up in you omg it makes him so happy and warm and sleepy omg hes soft

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

at some point, yeah. cedric wants to settle down. he knows, though, that thats not always in the cards and is willing to do whatever for your love.

HOLY NART CEDRIC DIGGORY IS AN AMAZING CHEF D O N T TRY TO CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. ok so imagine: after graduation, probably a week or so into life without school, you're still unconscious from a busy night of doing whatever you were doing. now its getting later in the morning, the sun is rising farther, and your body is ready for food. cocooning yourself in an old hogwarts blanket, you start making your way to the kitchen of the apartment you're sharing with cedric. you find him mid-flip of a scrambled egg. he's wearing a pairbof light grey sweatpants, and the sun shining beautifully on his bare chest. not to brag, but cedric was definitely muscular from quidditch. he looks up, soft eyes visibly lighting up seeing you. he smiles sweetly as you basically waddle to him. taking you in his arms, he presses a kiss to your forehead and goes back to the egg.

lmao okay i see u

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

genuinely, cedric does want the best for you, so he takes comfort in knowing this would be good for you if breaking-up was necessary. he won't pussy out, don't worry. cedric also believes in communication, so he'll make dinner or whatever and then he'll sit down with you and just say it as it is with as little sugar-coating as possible. he cares about your feelings, so he wouldn't be mean about it. he'd assure you that if, at any point, you needed him, he would always be there for you.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

mans ong wants to get married (when he knows ur the one). he wouldn't wait years unless he felt the need to, but wouldn't rush right into it.

when the time comes, he'll introduce you to his family, and obviously his dad would like you because theres literally no reason not to. he would buy a ring without you knowing, and would definitely take you somewhere. if you proposed to him, holy shit he'd probably start crying. if you made a speech? sobbing. he's kinda emotional, and is not afraid to cry about the big stuff. happy tears streaming down his face hed probably make tf out with you right then and there.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they physically?)

he a softie, i think we know now. physically omg would be so tender and sweet with you unless you want him to be ;) (im sorry omg im sleep deprived)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

oui oui, garçons und filles. expect lots of hugs from behind cos bros a sucker for those ong 😭❤

if ur shorter than him, hugs from the front are so sweet n shit. he leans down and kisses your forhead and its honestly just so sweet damn

if u a little taller than him, slay bbg i see you 🤩 anyways, ced wanna be held some days so he'll just kinda stand there until you get the hint and hug him like you know he needa be

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

damn okay thats a tuff one tbh

when he knows you'll put up with his shit and he just kinda knows that you the one, he'll come up and be twiddling his thumbs and be all ''omg i think i love you and im in love with you"

no, honestly, he'd probably bring it up into a conversation and then just steamroll right by it. he wants you to know he does love you but he doesn't want to be overbearing and scare you away

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

cedric does kinda get jealous, but damn he won't tell you. it's kinda obvious, though, when he is jealous. he'll be glaring and everything at whoever your talking to/about and kinda just wallow in his anger like "merlin man dzont they're with me >:(((((" when you come by and stand by him and kiss him or hold his hand, he does get happy and look down to keep anyone from seeing his smile

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

depends of the mood

during hogwarts and he just got out of a rough class or its been a long day or whatever, he'll kiss you with those soft lips of his, gently tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

if you're both at home and just woke up its just a soft little kiss on the lips, lingering slightly

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

literally so sweet omfg 😣❤

as a prefect, he's got some experience with kids (specifically 11 and 12 year olds) if you both decided you wanted kids, adopted or not, he's definitely be so sweet but sometimes you might have to remind him that he needs to be especially firm with some kids just because they may need it.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

slow and sweet, most days. he'll make breakfast (most days) at some point unless hes asleep or sick. if you shower in the morning, he'll make sure you have a cup of tea or coffee or cocoa waiting for you when you're done

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

he loooovvveeessss cuddling okay? he'll do anything you want, watching movies, play games and the like

though cedric loves movie nights, he loves the moments when the movie is paused, and you're doing whatever it is you're doing (petting ur dog or cat, re-placing a blanket, scurrying out of the room for some reason) he loves those. it makes him feel safe knowing he's with you in your home, with your personal stuff, being happy and cute

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

as friends, you'd obviously know the basics: fave color, fave drink, eye color, yada yada yada.

cedric diggory trusts pretty easily (when dating) and will tell you things you probably never thought to ask. personal things that he holds so close to his heart, sometimes he forgets those things are even there.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

it certainly takes a little bit to get him upset

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

cedric takes pride in knowing he's yours and you're his, so yeah, he knows details about you almost no one else really knows. hell, he'd probably even remember your gramma's birthday (if you guys were/are close)

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

waking up with you for the first time. seeing you asleep made him swell with warmth. he knew you had a hard time trusting, so you being vulnerable around him made him super mega ridiculously happy

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

he trusts you. he knows you know that there's a line between being nice and being a little too nice, so he doesn't get too jealous. in any case, a part of him is worried you'd find someone 'better' than him

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts?)

cedric loves dates. cute little outings where you guys can go do that cute couple shit and just bask in each other.

CEDRIC LOVES GIFT GIVING WHAT

he knows what to get you because he kinda likes going shopping with you

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

cedric picks at his hangnails until he bleeds

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

now, as one of the golden boys of his time at hogwarts, yes he does care about his looks. he dgaf about little pimples but damn if theres a hot out of place...

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

honestly kinda. he's devoted to you. he's yours. its hard for him to be away from you for weeks let alone months, but of course, he would always pull through in the end; all for you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

cedric pets every dog or cat that he sees (with permission)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

bros got a thing for not having dirty socks laying on the floor don't ask me why i know this shit

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

turning and nuzzling into you and holyfuckingshit its adorable :((( sometimes he'll whine when he can't quite reach or find you and he'll 100% wake up in the middle of the night if you aren't with him

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lilyevanstan1325 · 6 months

Text

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 2

I've always been a good girl.

A good daughter.

A good friend.

A diligent student.

I got good grades at school.

I had a lot of friends.

I always helped my mother with the housework.

I didn't messing around with my peers.

On Saturdays, instead of lazing in bed, I helped dad with his beloved garden.

Every Saturday morning him, me and my mother all had breakfast together.

We spent more than an hour sitting at the table eating mom's pancakes.

We always made fun of her because she always came out with some mess.

Her pancakes were always too raw or too burnt or she used salt instead of sugar.

And we stood there, laughing together.

Happy.

We told each other about our week and what we wanted to do.

Dad never missed the opportunity to kiss her temple or her cheek and I watched them enraptured.

Almost jealous that I too have not yet found a love so great, so all-encompassing.

Mom, oh yeah she knew me well!

She always knew exactly what was going on in my mind.

“Don't worry, darling, one day you too will find the man of your dreams” she said to me one morning after my father steals another kiss from her, earning my embarrassed look and a loud snort from the man sitting next to her.

“Don't be ridiculous, honey.Summer is still too young” he replied almost angrily, getting up from the table and starting to collect the now empty plates.

Mom and I giggled in unison.

His jealousy towards his only adored daughter was well known in the house and we often teased him about it.

I straightened my back and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Mom was much younger than me when you met” I replied piqued with a sly and mischievous smile.

“It was different” he muttered, his back to us as he stood at the kitchen sink.

More giggles followed his words.

Now in the oblivion of the death I can remember many small details that I didn't even notice at the time.

For example, mom's slightly pale complexion.

She thought it was a little seasonal flu.

“I'm fine, I'm fine” she had repeated several times that week.

“It's just that the other evening I took out the trash without putting on my jacket and the air was cold”

And instead it was the disease that was slowly and inexorably taking over her body.

The light that morning reflected on the marble top of the kitchen counter, making her large eyes shine, hypnotizing me with their beauty.

Sun that was blindingly reflected even in her long golden hair.

They remind me the ripe wheat in summer.

That morning she was still wearing her pajamas with a photo of our family on the shirt, an old Christmas present from me.

Dad, for his part, was wearing an old sweatpants and his old, tattered Star Wars sweatshirt, a sweatshirt that mom hated so much that she even tried to make it disappear but in the end she had given in to the irresistible pout of her beloved husband.

So they had reached a compromise, as they always did.

They almost never argued, they always worked hard to find a meeting point.

So in the end they came to the conclusion that if my father didn't want to see his beloved sweatshirt in the garbage he can could only wear it during his gardening sessions.

My father turned slowly, keeping his large eyes, the same color and intensity of soft, hot chocolate, fixed on me.

“You're still a kid, I don't see the point in discussing it now, right?” he repeated but this time looking at my mother.

Her, with a shrug and a sly smile, got up from her chair to reach his side.

Her small and delicate hands found my father's face and after caressing his cheeks with the tips of her fingertips, she placed a quick kiss on his lips.

“I'm sorry but this time I'm with her” she whispered to him and then turned her back on us and headed towards the stairs.

“Have fun in the garden” she greeted us with a quick wave of her hand, leaving me in the throes of laughter and his husband with the signs of betrayal on his face.

I knew that she was secretly happy that I loved spending my Saturday morning among his flowers because, before I was old enough to help him, my father forced my mother to do it and she hated it but she loved him more and she indulged him.

Now, however, she had Saturday morning all to herself and she spent it locked in the bathroom, immersed in a tub of hot water with the foam gently lapping her body and a good book to keep her company.

“Come on, I'll help you” I huffed, getting up from my seat and joining my father near the sink.

“The sooner we finish washing the dishes and the sooner we can go in the garden”

My father's eyes moved from the stairs, from where his other half had disappeared, to rest them on me again with a look I had never seen on him before.

A sad look but also infinitely proud and full of love.

As if he was really realizing that he no longer had that five-year-old girl next to him who asked him to carry her to bed because her little legs were tired after spending the afternoon in the park.

No, in front of him, he now saw a beautiful and capable young woman, ready to make many men lose their minds.

Men who wouldn't have been him.

He just wanted to be the only man in her life because he would never make her suffer.

Never.

Even if at the ends of the world it had happened...

He broke her heart.

We washed the dishes in silence and then always in silence we went to the back garden of our beautiful little house.

Washington was a really nice place to live.

In that area, in this quiet and peaceful suburb, him and my mother had purchased this small house, and decided at the time to fill it with love and children.

Love had never been lacking but alas the children had not arrived.

After years of painful miscarriages they had decided to give up and when they were thinking about adoption I arrived.

The story of the discovery of my existence has always brought tears in my eye because I was finally able to understand how much I was loved without any reservations from the very first moment, since I was just a small mass of cells measuring a few millimetres.

“It was a hot morning, summer was upon us” my mother's words resonate clear and strong in this darkness that death is.

“For a few mornings I had been feeling strangely dizzy and your father kept telling me he wanted to take me to Doctor Monroe.But I didn't want to go and I knew why.I was afraid.Afraid that the doctor would give me yet another bad news.I knew my period was late but I didn't want to give myself any false hope.I knew that soon the blood loss would confirm to me that my body was not capable of caring for my child”

Her big green eyes were a reflection of my own.

Shiny with tears and unconditional love.

“So that morning, after your father left for work, I went to the pharmacy to buy some pregnancy tests.Your father found me sitting on the bathroom floor, four pregnancy tests all positive placed in front of me.I was crying so much that I couldn't even find the strength to say a single word”

“God, when I saw her like that, on that floor, my heart stopped for a moment”

At the sound of his raspy voice we both turned our heads, looking behind us.

Dad was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes full of love.

He was wearing a blue sweater from which the collar of a white shirt protruded and his legs were wrapped in a pair of dark jeans.

The graying hair at his temples was elegantly combed.

Looking at him like that, with the light from the fireplace reflecting elegant shadows on his face, I could perfectly understand why my mother had fallen for him so hard to the point of deciding to get married at the age of eighteen.

We were so enraptured by our confidences that we didn't realize that it was already 5pm and that my father had returned from work.

With a small push he move away from the door and joined us on the sofa.

He kissed my mother on the head and then did the same to me and sat next to me, his strong arm around my shoulders and his scent filling my lungs and heart.

“I sat next to her and I started crying too” he admitted with a hint of shame coloring his cheeks.

“I should have been a man and consoled her, told her that everything would be fine…but instead I was stunned and scared.Full of hope and fear.I didn't want to go through that hell again and above all I didn't want her to go through it again"

While he spoke he never took his eyes off the woman he had promised to love and protect for his whole life.

My mother spoke up again.

“We decided to take it slow.We waited three weeks to go for an ultrasound.It was June 20th.The first day of summer we discovered of your existence" my mother whispered with the sweetest look I had ever seen on her face.

“That's why we decided to call you Summer” she added immediately after stroking my arm.

It was the first time I heard the true origin of my name.

I was ecstatic and euphoric.

I loved the idea that my name had such a deep meaning, full of a story of revenge on life.

“It's a wonderful name.I'm sorry I despised it when I was younger” I giggled sheepishly, wiping away the tears that had unconsciously begun to spill from my eyes, making them both laugh out loud.

Yeah, because I hated it when I was a child.

I hated my name because some kids at school teased me by calling me Winter or Spring.

“Don't worry my love, just thank me for not letting your father choose the name” mom giggled, wiping away my tears with the tip of her thumb and earning an indignant look from my father.

“Hey!Leia is a beautiful name” my father replied piqued pointing a finger at her.

"Seriously?Did you really want to name me after a Star Wars character?” I squeaked, my voice an octave higher, turning completely towards him and meeting his playful gaze.

He ruffled the hair on the top of my head and stood up.

"Women!You don't understand anything about good films” he muttered, leaving us alone.

Laughing, I hugged my mother eagerly, burying my face in her warm and welcoming chest.

Her skin smelled like home, security and love to me.

Her delicate hands caressed my back with slow, gentle movements.

“Thank you for sharing this story with me” I smiled at her thanking her and then got up to go find my father and continue to tease him a little about the origins of my name.

My mind quickly returns to my old memory of that distant autumn morning in the garden.

The silence continued to linger between us as we continued to dig small furrows on the ground with our hands wrapped in sturdy garden gloves.

I knew my father was very jealous of me and I was afraid I had overdone the jokes that morning so I was mustering up the courage to apologize for going too far with the joke but before I could open my mouth he did.

“I know you're a woman now.I'm not stupid.You're 24 years old and you've been living alone for over a year now...it's just that...that you'll always be my little girl for me, you know?”

His words filled my eyes with tears.

His eyes instead were fixed on his dirty and worn gloves.

He dropped, sitting on the cold, hard ground.

His legs raised and his arms resting on his knees.

I felt paralyzed, kneeling in front of him.

In front of that man who, despite the endless hard blows that life has reserved for him, did nothing but give me unconditional love.

After a few moments of silence his eyes found mine.

“The most selfish part of me just wants to keep you safe but I know it's right for you to have your own life, for you to find a man who truly loves you.Someone who can take care of you when I can no longer do so”

The mere idea that one day he would no longer be with me shattered my heart and made me tremble.

I shook my head to chase away that horrible possibility.

“Dad” I whispered with a low voice, avoiding his gaze so as not to show him my pain.

His reference to the fact that he might one day die had shaken me to the core.

I knew that, in many many years, it could happen but I always avoided thinking about it.

“No Summer, listen”

His hand, strong but at the same time capable of disarming kindness, squeezed my arm.

My eyes goes immediately on him.

We were both filled with such immense love that it was impossible to explain in words.

"I'm not angry.Really.I just want you to make the right choice.May you choose someone who treats you well, who listens to you and who loves you as you deserve to be loved”

We were both on the verge of tears.

I understood how much that small admission cost him and so, trying to lighten the moment, I hugged him quickly, risking making both of us fall.

I sank forcefully into his arms, always so warm and welcoming, basking in all his love.

“Big shoes to fit for the man that come” I whispered against his chest hoping he would understand that I would never settle for someone who wasn't at least a shred of what he was.

“You will always be my first true love, daddy” I added, enjoying that moment of pure love.

The memory dissipates from my mind as if it had been a pile of leaves blown away by a gust of wind, leaving me alone again in the darkness of death.

It's weird that death chose this memory to bring back to my mind.

A sweet but deeply painful memory.

And maybe that's exactly the point.

Pain.

The pain both physical and mental that continues to follow me even after death.

Why?

Why does it have to hurt so much?

Wasn't it enough that my death had been painful?

Why do I have to continue to suffer even now?

The pain is all around me so intense and immense that I don't understand where it comes from.

I don't feel the contours of my body, just a pain that I can't place.

A costant pain, almost annoying.

Why does it still hurt?

Why is there only darkness and pain?

Pain and darkness.

Where is the heaven?

Where are my fucking wings and my white clouds to rest cradled by the hand of God?

Where is my mom?

I thought that once I died I had a chance to be again with her.

To live my eternal rest in her loving arms, lulled by the sound of her angelic lullabies.

So there is nothing after death except darkness and pain?

No choirs of angels or white lights?

Fuck.

Nice swindle.

After a few moments or an infinity of centuries, I have no sense of time in this dark and desolate place, another wave of pain arrives but this time there is something different...

I can feel my fingers.

Slowly and with immense effort it seems that my body is regaining its contours.

Its shape.

First I contract the tips of my fingers, I hear the slight crunch of the dry leaves beneath them, then I move on to those of my feet.

They are there and they seem to work.

After moments or hours I feel my head.

I barely move it with absolute caution, I moving it only a few inches but the movement causes a stinging pain at the base of my neck.

Then that pain again and this time a gasp escapes my lips.

“Please stop”

My voice sounds unknown to my ears, hoarse and croaking.

And finally I find my eyes which, with an inhuman effort, reopen.

But there is no light in front of me, there is no sky...there is only a huge dark shadow.

I squeeze my eyelids tight.

Now a new feeling pervades me.

Fear.

That shadow is here for me.

It came to get me.

It is the death that, wrapped in its dark cloak, has decided to come and claim its new victim.

That pain again.

And now I know where it comes from.

From my side, at rib level.

But this time the pain is followed by a voice.

So does death have a voice?

I try to concentrate on opening my eyes again and very slowly I succeed, my eyelids flicker slightly in the process but after a few moments my vision adjusts.

The blurred edges of the death take on a sharp and decisive profile.

There is a man in front of me.

My weak heart jumps into my throat giving me a rush of adrenaline that gives me the strength to bring my right hand to my thigh in search of my knife but my hand finds nothing along its path.

Where's my knife?

And my machete?

“If ya're looking fer yer weapons, I have ’em”

And even if the words come distorted in my brain I understand what he's telling me.

Damn.

The man speaks again but no sound reaches my ears.

I try to concentrate all my attention on his lips, which are still moving, to understand the meaning of the words that come out but without great results.

So I go back to focusing on his eyes.

Are they… clear?

They appear light blue, his eyebrows furrowed.

The hair, short on the sides and longer on the top, frames a face with a square and firm jaw, covered with a light layer of beard.

Some dark blonde locks fall lazily over his eyes making his gaze even more menacing and scary.

On his upper lip, on the left, a small mole stands out.

His lips move again and this time I catch the last words of the sentence.

“…name?”

I look at him confused, trying to answer in turn.

Of course I look like shit right now.

Sprawled on the ground, in this remote forest of Georgia, with filthy clothes and the look of a psychopath.

“What…” I clear my throat.

Wrong move.

It burn, everything burn.

But I have to speak before this stranger decides it's easier to kill me.

"What did you say?" I gasp painfully.

“Ya got a name?” the man repeats slowly this time, pronouncing the words as if he were talking to a stupid person.

A strong southern accent colors his words.

His tone is threatening, as if I really could be a threat to him right now.

Is he really serious?

Is this the way to talk to another human being with one foot already in the grave?

And if before I was scared now I only see red.

Just anger.

“Yeah, I have a name.You no?Didn't your mother give you one?”

For a moment his look seems surprised but it lasts a fraction of a second, such a short period of time that for a moment I think I imagined it.

His arms rise in front of him.

His large muscles flex sinuously beneath his sunburned skin.

A look of pure hatred dances in his eyes like the flames of hell.

And if I used to have to worry about an angry redneck now I have to worry about an angry redneck with a huge crossbow, crossbow aimed right at my face.

My father was right, my damn sarcasm would get me in trouble one day.

Shit.

I close my eyes trying to calm my nerves.

There is nothing I can do at the moment, I only have two paths I can take.

Either I bite my tongue and try to be civil to this stranger or I end up with an arrow between my eyes.

And the man's subsequent words confirm this to me.

“Yer name” says the man firmly, adding immediately after “Before I lose my patience and put a bolt between yer pretty eyes”

Inhaling deeply I try to lift my head but to no avail so I just reopen my eyes and point them into the eyes of the archer who towers menacingly over me.

“Summer.That's my name”

I maintain eye contact as he studies me intently, trying to figure out if he can trust me.

Which is saying a lot.

What on earth could I do to him if I can't even lift my head without feeling nauseous?

During his silence I take the opportunity to study him in turn.

He has broad shoulders, defined muscles that adhere almost indecently to the sleeveless t-shirt he is wearing.

His chest is so massive it makes me shiver.

The muscles in his arms are tense as they hold that weapon, a weapon so simple but so scary at the same time.

My gaze travels down his legs, the massive muscles of his thighs barely squeezed into a pair of filthy jeans.

I see him take a step forward and I reflexively tense up, stopping his advance.

Maybe he doesn't want to hurt me.

Maybe if I behave, this harsh stranger could mean the difference between life and death.

The difference between my life and my death.

“Why are you lying there?”

What the fuck?

What the fuck is that question?

What on earth can a person do stand still on a forest floor during an apocalypse?

What does he think I'm doing?

That I'm getting a tan?

But gathering every ounce of self-control I opt for a polite response, something that can explain the current pitiful state in which I find myself.

“I haven't eaten or drunk for days.I think I lost consciousness..." I whispered defeatedly, looking at the sky in search of the sun.

It's lower in the sky than I remember.

How long have I been lying here?

“I lost consciousness maybe an hour, maximum two hours ago.I'm waiting to die...so... if you want to finish the job that this fucking apocalypse has started...please be my guest”

I say the last words with a placid resignation.

Maybe continuing to live is the wrong choice.

Maybe there is nothing in Atlanta and even if there was something, what would I have to survive for?

I've lost everything.

I lost everyone.

After endless moments his voice breaks the silence around us again.

“Where are ya from?”

“Washington”

“Where were ya headed?”

Why lie now.

“Atlanta.I was looking for salvation”

“Are ya alone?”

“Yes”

And this hurts more than death.

Yes, I'm alone.

Completely and hopelessly alone.

Our little conversation, more like a little interrogation I dare say, ends here.

I close my eyes again placing my fate in the dirty strong hands of this man with eyes like the sky.

Eyes that seem to hide a kaleidoscope of emotions behind a wall of aggression.

I try to regulate my breathing.

I don't want to show my weakness because I'm not.

I am strong.

I walked for days, trying to survive with all my strength.

I hear the leaves crunching under his huge boots, the sound seems to be right next to my ears now.

“Take it”

His voice sounds less angry than it did a few minutes ago so I risk a glance towards his feet.

I open my eyes and take a few seconds to make sense of what I'm seeing.

The archer is bent on his knees, the enormous crossbow is tied to his back by a strap that crosses his chest.

His hand is stretched out towards me and in it there is a bottle of water.

Trying to channel all my strength into my arms, I use them to leverage myself and try to sit up and magically I succeed.

At least I can do it without throw up.

Great.

I bring my hand closer to the bottle and I notice that a slight tremor runs through my fingers, I don't know if it is due to my close experience with death or due to my proximity to this mysterious man.

The stern frown on his face doesn't disappear even when I grab the bottle and thank him with a slight nod.

I try to unscrew the cap several times but the plastic cap continually slips from my weak grip.

The man snorts, arrogantly taking the bottle out of my hands, being careful not to touch my fingers and with a quick and decisive movement unscrews the cap.

When I think that he is about to give me the bottle back I am petrified by his next move.

He leans towards me slightly bringing the bottle directly to my lips.

I think he realized that I don't have the strength to do it.

Docilely I bring my lips to the bottle, welcoming the first drops with trepidation.

When the water touches my tongue I feel my eyes fill with tears.

I drink slowly, closing my eyes, one sip at a time.

Part of me would like to swallow all the water in a single gulp but I am aware that I would only risk to throw up and feeling worse so, when I think I have drunk enough for the moment, I move my lips away.

The archer closes the bottle and drops it on my lap.

I think in his jargon of rude gestures and grunts this means take it.

I watch him as he stands up grabbing his backpack lying near my feet.

And now?

What happen?

Will he go?

Will he leaves me here alone to die?

As grateful as I am for his kind gesture, a bottle of water certainly won't save my life.

And the night is getting closer.

I have to find a safe place and quickly too.

“Can ya walk?”

His hoarse voice pierces my ears and reaches my brain.

Confused by his question, I look at his shoulders, his crossbow...and I can't understand if I can trust this man.

I try to get up, my legs are shaking but they seem to hold me up.

"I can try.Why?"

But a sudden swish catches our attention.

In the distance I hear growls.

Biters.

Shit.

I'll die.

I'm a burden right now and I'm more than sure that a person would never risk his life for a stranger.

But for the umpteenth time he surprised me.

He raises his hand in my direction, beckoning me with his fingers.

“Move” he orders me, leaving me perplexed.

In his eyes there is no agitation, there is no fear.

This man knows what he's doing.

He doesn't fear these fucking monsters.

He approaches me threateningly and I take a step back.

"M'not gonna hurt ya.But if ya don't move your ass I'll leave ya here.Ya understand, sunshine?”

It's the longest sentence I've ever heard him say.

His tone is authoritative, his voice confident with that sweet southern lilt that makes his words sticky and sweet as honey.

I am sure that he will do what he says as I am sure that he doesn't want to hurt me.

He had all the time available to do it and yet he decided to help me and he intends to do it again by taking me away with him.

When I'm about to answer him the growls get louder.

I only have time to register a movement behind me and as soon as I turn around what I see is a biter with an arrow stuck between his eyes.

My gaze returns to him, he has already lowered his crossbow and with one last step he approaches me leaving only a few steps of distance between our bodies.

I can feel the heat emanating from his large and tensed body.

Then without any warning he takes another step and grabs my wrist dragging me away with him.

Dazed and scared, I try to keep up with his pace even though I'm sure he's the one adapting to mine.

How do I know?

As a first clue I would say that his long and strong legs could pump harder than this and secondly his constant hangry scowl accompanied by little snorts every time my tired feet get caught in the vegetation.

But despite all this, the grip around my wrist doesn't loosen.

"Where do we go?" I pant, trying to concentrate all my mental and physical abilities in this fucking run.

As the archer runs he seems to have no hesitations about where his next destination is.

He stomps his feet on the ground with determination.

I risk a look behind me and I realize that at least a dozen of those horrible beings are following us.

If he had been alone he would have eliminated them without hesitation but now his goal is to get to a safe place to save us.

He knows that I am unable to defend myself and this mortifies me.

If he dies today it will only be my fault.

With this thought I try to pump my thighs as much as I can, increasing the pace of my step making it more confident and decisive.

In the air of this late afternoon at the end of summer the only sound present is the frantic panting of two human beings trying to survive.

Our boots pound hard on the dry, sun-baked ground.

And after what seems like an eternity we emerge from the woods.

I look around curiously.

We are at the top of a hill and in the distance there is a beautiful farm that seems to have remained untouched since the end of the world.

It almost seems like a place out of time.

A bit as if it were a painting, those beautiful paintings on canvas that my mom loved so much to paint.

The man tugs on my arm, silently inviting me with a look to run faster because here we are.

Finally here we are.

That farm is our salvation.

My eyes are focused on those white wooden walls.

For the first time I feel a small spark of hope inside me.

Maybe I won't die, not today at least.

My feet live a life of their own and accelerate thanks to the adrenaline that now flows through my veins.

Too caught up in my own euphoria I don't notice that the archer has stopped so my run is interrupted so abruptly that my neck is jerked violently.

I stop panting, looking at him as if he suddenly had two heads.

"We are almost there.Let's go” I pant impatiently.

But he's not even listening to me.

His back is to me and without releasing his grip on my wrist he uses his free hand to pull a gun from the back pocket of his jeans and uses it to fire a shot at the biters.

“Duck” he orders me, letting me go and turning his head slightly in my direction.

Instinctively I obey and bend down on my knees, holding my arms over my head.

I don't even have time to catch my breath before a hail of bullets starts behind me that lasts just in a couple of minutes.

Or at least so I think.

When I raise my head and move my arms I hear other footsteps coming behind us.

I turn my head over my left shoulder and see three men advancing towards us.

One of them is very tall, he is wearing a short-sleeved shirt where the top buttons are open revealing a muscular chest to my eyes and his legs are wrapped in a baggy trousers.

He has a shaved head and a hard, menacing look.

A shiver runs down my spine.

This man is dangerous.

Everything in him screams stay the fuck away if you want to live.

His attitude reminds me too much of that of his men.

I shift my attention to the man in the center.

He is a boy, he seems to be my age and has sweet asian features.

He could be chinese or korean.

He is wearing a simple t-shirt with a pair of jeans and a baseball cap on his head.

He looks scared and uncertain but when his eyes rest on me I only see concern.

I don't know if it's worry for himself or for me.

The last man wears a police uniform, his curly hair touches the back of his neck and a light veil of beard covers his face.

His gaze is attentive, he is definitely a cop, but there is something else in him.

His eyes seem haunted by something very painful.

He seems tired, as if a burden is weighing on him and slowly crushing him but despite this he must continue to defend the people he loves.

I watch them come towards us, all three armed, without ever taking their eyes off my figure crouched on the ground.

Maybe I should get up.

I have to make them understand that I have no bad intentions.

That I'm not a threat and I don't even want to become one.

But as soon as I try to move a threatening voice behind me stops my gesture.

“Kneel” the archer whispers in my ear making me shiver for an infinite number of reasons that I can't even understand.

The cold barrel of a gun presses against the back of my neck.

Really?

Did he take me out of that hell, save me from certain death just so he could kill me in a public execution?

I try to ignore the cold in my heart and the sweat that burns my eyes, I would like to rub them with the back of my hand but I avoid any movement to avoid finding a bullet stuck in my brain.

I kneel but I don't look down.

Hell no!

If they want to kill me, if he wants to kill me, they will have to do it by looking me in the eyes.

If I have to die I will do it with dignity.

"M'sorry.But I have to protect ma people” the archer murmurs as he moves, sliding to my side without ever taking the gun away from my head.

I risk a glance in his direction and strangely I find him staring at me.

His blue eyes seem to look beyond my kneeling figure, seem to spy directly on my thoughts.

Our gazes are chained.

I certainly won't be the first to lower my gaze.

I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated and trembling.

Before his three friends reach us, the man who keeps his gun pointed at my temple, turns his gaze in front of him and then speaks.

“Daryl.That's ma name"

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ooops-i-arted · 9 months

Text

Daughter of the Mudhorn

Alanne tried to wipe her eyes but her hands were just far enough away, cuffed and magnetized to the wall of her tiny cell. She sniffled and then swallowed, trying not to make a sound. They would come in and hit her again, hard, and had taken her armor pieces so she had no protection. There was already dried blood itching at her temple and wetter stuff still dripping from her nose, which hurt with every twitch.

They were quiet now in the other room. She tried to listen. She had heard them already, talking about the New Alderaan Consulate and the Mand’alor and ransom money and asking for beskar. She tried not to cry but tears dripped down as she thought of her beautiful beskar shoulder plate with the mudhorn signet on it, pure shining silver just like her father’s armor and newly forged to fit her growing shoulder now that she was almost eleven. She had promised the Armorer she would wear it with pride, and when her dad took off his helmet to see it again later he was beaming and told her she was truly Mando’ad. But she’d just gone into the Hosnian Prime market to look around and get a snack while her mother met with some New Alderaan officials and she’d been disarmed, captured, and her armor taken. It was a durasteel light set, more form than function, but how could she ever earn a real set of armor if she had already been disgraced like this?

A loud bang and she jumped, her aching nose and her bruised wrists hurting under the sudden movement. She didn’t know who had taken her, but she knew enough about the underworld. There were the Hutts, and the Exchange, and the Pyke Syndicate, and more she had probably never heard of, and she was a princess of Mandalore. She was worth a lot of credits. Whoever took her, they might have competition. Not to mention that every pretty girl in the galaxy heard sooner or later how Hutts got their dancers.

Loud blaster fire roared in the next room and Alanne hid her face in her arms, crying. Crying like a coward, a daughter of Mandalore afraid of blaster fire! Her mom and dad would never cry, they would fight. But how could she fight? She wasn’t as strong as them and she didn't even have any weapons or armor. She couldn’t even get herself uncuffed from the wall, thought her wrists were mottled with bruises from trying.

She tried to cover her ears with her arms, trying to block out the sounds of fighting in the next room and failing. She just wanted to go home. She wanted her mom and dad, her own room, even her annoying siblings. She just wanted to go home.

“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!”

Alanne’s head popped up. Was it - was it really -?

The door was forced open, and her mother was there.

“MOM!” Alanne cried out, trying to get up and falling back against the wall.

“Alanne!” Cara rushed forward, disengaging the cuffs and breaking them off at their weak point.

She should have thought of that. Alanne didn’t say it as her mother held her tight. “Mom - Mom -”

“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” Cara asked, tilting Alanne’s head back to inspect her. “Your nose looks broken, oh my poor girl -”

Alanne couldn’t stop the tears pouring out of her eyes. She tried to speak but all she could say was, “Mom…”

Cara held her close and tight. “I’m here, baby girl. You’re safe.”

Alanne gave up and sobbed into her shoulder. “M-mom… they g-grabbed me in the m-market…”

Cara rocked her gently, like she was a baby again. “Someone saw. They recognized your armor and called the Mandalorian embassy. They told me right away.”

Her armor, her beautiful new armor. “Th-they took m-my armor…”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry. You’re safe now. We need to call your father and tell him you’re safe, and get you to a medical droid.”

Her father! What would he think? “My new b-beskar p-pauldron…”

“If it’s not still here, the Armorer can forge you a new one,” Cara said, kissing her head. “Come on, sweetie.”

“B-but…” She started crying harder, unable to stop. “B-but I l-lost beskar. D-dad will be… he’ll think…”

Cara’s brow furrowed. “He’ll think what? He’ll be happy you’re safe, Alanne.”

“I lost my first piece of real armor. I lost beskar. I’m not worthy. I’m not… I’m not a real Mando’ad,” Alanne said, the words pouring out in a rush.

Cara stilled, and for a moment Alanne thought her mother would be angry at her. Cara cupped her cheek gently. “No, Alanne. Don’t ever think that.”

“But I lost my beskar! It was taken away from me by someone who was a victor in combat!”

“You are ten. You’re still in training. At ten I couldn’t take on all six of those people over there. I did now because of my years of training and practice.”

“I’m almost old enough to swear the Creed!”

“Swearing the Creed at thirteen is the old way that you may or may not choose to follow. And even when your father swore it at thirteen, he was still training. He went on missions with a mentor, not by himself. Being a Mandalorian warrior, or any kind of fighter, takes years of discipline and training. Think of your brother, he’s over seventy and just now starting with a training saber after years working on other Jedi skills.”

Alanne sniffled; now snot was draining out her nose like she was a baby and not a princess of Mandalore. “I’m not… I failed. I failed and I’m not a good Mandalorian. I’m not a warrior.”

“You are a warrior. You’re brave. I know you tried to fight them, and then you tried to escape,” Cara said, gently brushing her fingers across Alanne’s broken nose and bruised wrists. “You did the best you could with what you have, like any Mandalorian.”

“But you and Dad would’ve beat them… you never would’ve been caught. You wouldn’t even be scared. I’ll never… what if I am never a true Mandalorian warrior?”

“Look at me,” Cara said, and Alanne obeyed. “I already told you that being a warrior like me or your father takes years of training. But the other thing is, you are a member of Clan Djarin. Do you remember the stories we told you? About how we found and protected your brother?”

Alanne nodded; everyone on Mandalore knew about how Mand’alor the Reluctant had been a simple bounty hunter until he found a Jedi child, decided to protect him, and in the process won the Darksaber and became leader of their people.

“You know the part where we went back to Nevarro so Uncle Greef could help us keep Grogu safe from the Empire? When we fought Moff Gideon the first time? There were so many soldiers, dozens of them. We fought every one until the Moff hurt your father with an explosion. I carried him back inside but the building was starting to burn. I couldn’t see a way out. I was afraid we were going to die.”

Alanne blinked in surprise. “You were afraid, Mom?”

“I was. We were trapped, your father was hurt, there was fire all around us… and then what happened?”

She knew the story well since her brother liked this part a lot. “Grogu saved you. He made the firetrooper stop attacking you.”

Cara nodded. “He saved us. Even two fighters like me and your father, with all our years of training, would’ve been defeated without him.” She cupped Alanne’s face. “You are a Mandalorian, Alanne. And you are also a member of Clan Djarin. When one of us cannot stand, another protects them until they can again.”

Alanne nodded, sniffling again, but this time no more fresh tears came. Cara wiped away the ones already on her cheek. “Your father and I love you more than anything else in the galaxy. Your brother and sister too. We will always be there for you when you need us.”

Alanne hugged her mother again, but this time it truly made her feel safe and calm again. Cara kissed her head. “Can you walk, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mom.” Alanne stood, a little wobbly from the hours forced to sit down, but able to keep her feet.

“My speeder is outside. Let’s get on and we can call your dad as we head to the medcenter, all right?” Cara put an arm around her protectively as they walked out into the next room, where six bodies of various species were sprawled around the room, unmoving.

Alanne spotted a gleam and moved before her mother could stop her, grabbing a dirty bag. Inside were all her armor pieces, and on top the beskar pauldron.

“See? All good,” Cara said with a smile. “I can carry it for you, if you need me to.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Alanne said, hoisting it on her shoulder. “I can carry this now.”

Also on AO3 | Part of the Caradin Royalty AU

I watched Daughter of the Wolf (free on YouTube if you're interested) and was filled with such a need for Mama Bear Cara it overcame my writer's block.

#the mandalorian #caradin royalty au #caradin #caralorian #alanne djarin #cara dune #fic

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heckyeahponyscans · 2 years

Text

Thoughts and Spoilers for MYM #8

Episode summary: Oh no, Sparky has gone missing!!

Hitch is frantic and the ponies are searching everywhere . . . but unbeknownst to them Misty is hiding Sparky right under their noses, in a supply closet in the Crystal Brighthouse. Opaline has promised her a cutie mark if she brings Sparky to the dark castle, but wrangling the baby dragon is harder than it seems! In the end Misty doesn’t succeed in bringing Sparky to the castle, but she does capture some of his dragonfire in a jar for Opaline.

General Thoughts: Hitch’s connection with Sparky and his worries about whether he’s being a good “dragon dad” were very heartfelt. I like that we see a male character in a nurturing, child-care role, which is still pretty uncommon. The B-plot with his friends getting in each other’s way was a little too simple for me (it seems like they should be past that) but it didn’t take up too much time so it’s fine.

Misty was the standout of this episode. You can really see how being raised by Opaline has influenced her. She will do ANYTHING to get her cutie mark, but she’s also naive and blind Opaline’s true nature . . . Misty promises Sparky that she will return him to Maretime Bay later, as though Opaline would ever let him out of her sight again.

Her return to Opaline, empty-handed (except some dragonfire caught in a jar) is heartrending as she crawls across the floor, practically hyperventilating. The dragonfire super-charges Opaline’s magic, but not to the extent she wants, and she unleashes on Misty like we’ve never seen before, screaming at her and calling her useless. This feels like a pivotal moment, where the scales start to fall from Misty’s eyes. Up to this point she has always been solidly in Opaline’s corner--believing that she is the rightful ruler of Equestria, trying to bond with her, trying to make her proud. But here she ends up crying in her room. “For somepony made of fire, I’ve never met a heart so cold.”

Other random thoughts:

- I liked Hitch’s Batman impression. And he even got Zoom and Thunder in on it!

- Misty managing an incredible acrobatic feat (dodging Sparky’s Home Alone traps), only to berate herself for her one mistake (tripping afterwards) was apropos

- awwww!

- I do feel Sparky is cuter in 2D (like the Tell Your Tale shorts) and 3D. Like, I don’t find him repellent or anything, but I dunno, his face could be better. I like his horns a lot, though.

- I really like how strong light shines through the ponies’ ears, just like an actual animal with a thin ear

- Zipp’s stressing me out by leaving the nail polish hanging over the edge like that

- Pipp: “Ooo, that is a good point”

Zipp, instantly: “Is it though?”

- Pearl, the dog! I assume she’ll be a pet in a future playset

- Hitch tells the seagulls to search “the old defense factory”, which implies that CanterLogic did shut down. I hope we get an update on what Phyllis is doing at some point.

- the dramatic lighting in Hitch’s Batman scenes are *chef’s kiss*

- Her body language . . . Awww Misty :(

- Opaline says it’s been “hundreds of moons” since she last saw dragonfire; I’m going to assume a moon equals a year because it would be odd for someone to say they saw something “hundreds of months ago”

- The texturing on this tar is just really nice. Like it has that oil-slick patterning on the top and everything. Also, both tar and feathers are being stored in the basement. Oh animators, you so sly!

- Not only does Opaline’s horn and wings fare up, but parts of her body become opalescent

- Opaline’s speech is incredible. “Alicorns ruling like they were meant to.” “No more of this equality stuff.” “The citizens of Equestria should fear and love their immortal rulers!”

- This is basically a deconstruction of G4, where that was the role of alicorns. I remember there was a lot of fan speculation about Sunny becoming the new ruler of Equestria after the G5 movie came out, before there was other media.

- Poor Misty, Opaline was terrifying when she lashed out. What a great villain though!

- I liked Opaline’s simple, impatient toss of her head to activate her magic scrying pool

- Oh noooo, is that a childhood drawing of Opaline? Oh nooooo.

#My Little Pony #MYM #Make Your Mark #spoilers #G5 #Misty Brightdawn #Misty #Hitch Trailblazer #Sparky Sparkaroni

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vampyrsutton · 1 year

Text

A Few Hours More

Summary:

How the two realize and accept their feelings throughout the years.

Ao3 Tags:

Feelings Realization, Pining, Mutual Pining, Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom Has Anxiety, Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom is Bad at Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Nanjo Kojiro | Joe, Injury, Episode 9 Used

Notes:

Day 5 of MatchaBlossom Week 2023!

Prompt: Feelings Realization

Beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

Kojirō had known for years that Kaoru was important to him, he just didn’t realize how much or what this new emotion was until they were in their teens.

At this point, they had known each other since they were in preschool, and while it had been Kojirō to introduce Kaoru to skateboarding, it was Kaoru who really made the sport shine.

All long, toned limbs and sharp, calculating eyes paired with a smirk that could only spare your demise as he flew through the air to land in front of you like an assassin in the night. It only got worse when a piercing was added to his lower lip that could quirk up with the smug look and Kojirō finally noticed his heart flutter at the sight.

After Kaoru gained unmatched freedom that was brought on by skateboarding, his rebellious phase took off and Kojirō ended up dragged along for the ride like the lovesick puppy that he was. He would claim it was to keep Kaoru from getting into too much trouble, but really he just wanted to make sure the skinny boy didn’t get hurt after he had shown up on Kojirō’s doorstep one night battered and bruised with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

Kojirō apparently had little to worry about because along with being beautiful and deceptively skinny, Kaoru was strong.

Sure Kojirō was a big guy, but he had no experience fighting and was easily overwhelmed.

Watching Kaoru take down a man bigger than Kojirō with nothing but his fists almost made him confess on the spot, and he started hitting the gym so he’d be of more use in the future.

Kaoru was beautiful and strong, but probably most of all, he was brilliant.

Even with late nights skateboarding and moonlighting as a thug, Kaoru was at the top of their class in almost every subject. He’d come to school in full piercings and eyeliner sharp enough to end a man’s life—and Kojirō would know as it threatened to end his and time Kaoru’s eyes narrowed with a challenge— and hair far out of dress code, but teachers were powerless to stop him as he didn’t even have to look up from whatever he was fiddling with to give the right answer and had taken their school to nationals with the robotics club.

The only thing he fell short in was home ec, actually being banned from the classroom and put in a calligraphy elective after a few too many fires and toxic sludge.

Luckily, that’s where Kojirō came in, being average in everything else but that. Meeting Kaoru for lunch and watching pretty gold eyes light up for whatever new treat Kojirō brought him actually encouraged him to join the cooking and baking clubs and fall in love with the art.

It was also what would one day take him clear to France for several years when Kaoru eventually broke his heart at the betrayal of Adam proved too much for Kaoru and he finally pushed Kojirō away for—what he would later come to fear—good.

Of course, Kojirō would come back to Osaka, with a culinary degree under his belt and muscles to his frame that Kaoru didn’t even know existed.

And of course, the first place he would go is to Kaoru’s side, right?

Right?

Kaoru, now Cherry Blossom, had thought losing Adam hurt, but showing up to S in hopes of seeing his childhood friend again and making amends only to find him laughing with a girl on each arm was devastating.

The rearing of the green-eyed monster that followed was what finally made Kaoru realize the emotion that he’d been misinterpreting for years for what it actually was and he almost considers fleeing.

Except he can’t because just then Kojirō sees him and gives him that same smile and look that he’s been giving him since high school and oh my god Kaoru how can someone so smart be so incredibly stupid?

It was the same look though. Maybe it wasn’t too late?

“Yo! Kaoru! How you been, man?” Kojirō—Joe now—grins as he excuses himself from his fangirls. “Sorry for running off for three years. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, ya know?”

Cherry notes the slight twitch to a dark green eyebrow and gold eyes narrow. He’s hiding something. “It’s Cherry or Cherry Blossom here, you oaf.” He bites out, internally cringing at how mean he sounds when Joe’s face falls. “And you could have emailed.”

‘Oh my god, shut up!’ He screams to himself when Joe’s face scrunches.

“Still a douche, huh? Here I was hoping maybe you’d grown up a bit without me around to baby you.” Joe scoffs in annoyance. In reality, he’s just hurt that Cherry is acting like this, but if he wants to be like that, two can play at that game.

‘To baby-’ Cherry’s eyes widen before narrowing once more as he sneers. “Who was babying who. God, three years at some fancy school and you’re still a buffoon. I can’t believe-

{Races are starting soon, master} Carla cuts in, silencing both men before Cherry can dig his grave any further.

Joe just stares before blinking. “Did-...Did your skateboard just fucking talk?”

“Her name is Carla.” Cherry nods smugly. “She’s what I was working on while you were away. Say hello, Carla.”

{Hello, Nanjo Kojirō.}

Cherry gets to watch Joe’s face soften as he looks back up at Kaoru’s face fondly. “As brilliant as ever, aren’t you?”

Cherry, now that he’s realized what these feelings are, is suddenly grateful that he decided to include a mask in his outfit. “And you’re still just a simpleton.”

‘Why are you like this?!’ He wants to scream at himself.

And there goes the smile again as red eyes glare at him. “Can’t even take a compliment. Whatever, I’ll see you at the top, princess.”

With that, Joe rides off and Cherry is left with a whole new panic of ‘Why did I like him calling me that?!’.

Stupid sexy red-eyed assholes.

Thanks to Kaoru’s new inability to keep his foot out of his mouth, butting heads and bickering like a married couple seem to be the new norm. It sucks, but as long as Kojirō’s eyes are on him, Kaoru will take what he can get.

Thankfully, Kojirō is still a sweetheart so this includes dinners at Kojirō’s new restaurant after the opening and late nights bantering over a bottle of wine. It almost feels intimate in a way, having the nice restaurant all to themselves as they drink and catch up. If Kaoru didn’t know any better, he would almost say some of Kojirō’s quips might have even been attempts at flirting.

That was surely wishful thinking though.

Except it kept happening.

Over and over.

And the arguing was getting less wicked more teasing, and only hamming it up for their fans at S but even then Cherry has heard some question if they were fighting or flirting.

Kaoru wishes he knew the answer.

He no longer wants to know the answer.

Apparently, Kojirō was right when an argument about the chef’s promiscuous ways had led to him declaring Kaoru wouldn’t know love if it smacked him upside the head.

Well, it just did.

Right in the face.

With a skateboard.

“I simply find you boring.”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?

The reason he had rebelled in the first place nearly a decade ago.

He was too boring.

Kojirō had said it himself at one point when he suggested skateboarding to spice things up.

Don’t get him wrong, Kaoru ended up loving it. Loved the rush and excitement. He wouldn’t have stuck with it for so long if he hadn’t.

But back then? He was terrified Kojirō would get bored and leave him.

“KAORU!”

Huh, that almost sounded like him now.

Kaoru hears tires screeching and yelling before stone arms wrap around him, all so carefully like they’re afraid he will break.

Ah, it was Kojirō.

God, how did it take Kaoru so long to figure it out?

That’s his last thought before he properly loses consciousness, not processing anything else but warmth and safety until several hours later when he wakes up in a pain-killer-induced haze with one person in mind.

“Ko-...jirō…”

He hadn’t expected to hear a clattering next to him or the man’s voice yelling out the door for the doctor, but the next blink fills his sight with fluffy green hair and relieved red eyes so much softer than the ones he had spent years chasing.

“Kaoru?” Kojirō whispers carefully, sure his head must hurt.

It does but the pain medicine helps and the two combined is what he’ll blame his next spoken thought on; as he notes how warm Kojirō’s eyes look even with the crappy hospital lights. “Pretty.”

He gets to watch Kojirō’s cheeks and ears flush with color before he lets out an embarrassed laugh. “Little loopy, are we?”

“That too,” Kaoru mumbles as the doctors come in before he panics and grips Kojirō’s hand as tightly as possible when he tries to leave. It’s not very tight in his current state, but it gets the other man’s attention at least. “Stay…please.”

Kojirō blinks before looking to the doctors and smiling lightly when he gets a nod. “Let me get the chair out of their way at least.”

This is made difficult by Kaoru refusing to let him go, but eventually, he’s settled back in the chair, out of the way of the doctor and nurses, and smiling softly as he continues to hold Kaoru’s hand through the exam. He can already tell he’s not going to get an answer for the sudden behavior by the way gold eyes start to droop, but Kojirō has waited this long, he can wait a while more.

After the doctor and nurses give the all clear and the rundown of treatment since they were apparently still each other’s emergency contacts even almost ten years later, they take their leave and Kojirō takes the opportunity to kiss Kaoru’s knuckles, assuming him asleep.

“You’re gonna be okay, Kaoru.” He whispers in relief.

A mumbling makes him jump a little, but he leans forward.

“Huh? What’d you say, Kaoru?”

“Kiss my face next time…coward.” Kaoru slurs sleepily, whatever the nurses gave him starting to take effect.

Kojirō feels his entire face heat in a blush, but he knows he’s probably grinning like an idiot. “As soon as you wake up.”

The only response he gets this time is Kaoru’s gentle breathing as he sleeps, but Kojirō doesn’t mind.

He’s already waited almost fifteen years.

He can wait a few hours more.

#matcha blossom #nanjo kojiro #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #sakurayashiki kaoru #sk8 the infinity #sk8 cherry #sk8 joe #matchablossom #matchablossom week 2023 #matchablossom week

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kitkat-2204 · 2 years

Text

The House of Mirrors (Omorashi Story)

A was with B in the carnival for the first time during the entire summer. A was excited to do so many things, go on rides, play the arcade games, but they were most excited to finally spend time with B after such a long time. After a while of having fun at the carnival, going on rides, and trying different greasy street foods, A was specifically eyeing the house of mirrors, and wanted to ask B if they wanted to with them next. "Hey B, are you going to come join me to go see the house of mirrors?" A asks politely. "Yeah I will, but let me try to win this crane game for ya first." B replies as he continues to try to get this one stuffed duck not fully focusing his attention to A. "Alright lol, see you when your done. I'm gonna go check out the house of mirrors." A replies as they continue drinking their large cup of lemonade. "Wow... I love how the house of mirrors make these crystals look. it's so beautiful. I could really relax here if I wanted to." A says as they look through the mirrors and the crystal walls surrounding it. "There's nobody here right? I might as well just relax and lay down and nap underneath these beautiful crystals until B gets here." A thinks as their eyes slowly drift close under the bright lights of the crystals shining across each mirror. A then goes on to dream about a particularly familiar bedroom they remember from their childhood. This memory involves A laying in bed comfortably, scared to use the restroom right next to their parents bedroom, fearing the wrath of their mother if they decide to get up. Fearing this decision, A was forced to hold it until morning came, which came to be impossible at some point. A particularly remembers allowing small little leaks into the bed... allowing just the smallest amount of pressure to relieve itself in the middle of the night... just enough to allow them too rest. A then wakes up from their small nap with embarrassment, confusion, and most of all, a bladder desperate to burst. "Oh dear, I need to get out of here and use the bathroom." A abruptly says as they get up looking for the exit of the house of mirrors. A, frantically looking for the exit, keeps stumbling and stumbling upon mirror after mirror, crystal wall after crystal wall, but to exit to their avail. "I CAN'T FIND THE EXIT TO THIS THING... UGH.. HELLO??? CAN SOMEONE HELP? I WOULD LIKE TO GET OUT OF HERE PLEASE?" A says as they desperately yell to the top of their lungs trying to get out of this area and reach the restroom in time. At this point, leaks are dripping down A's legs as they squeeze their legs to try desperately to hold this as much as possible. At this point the pants are beyond saving, and A is beginning to feel hopeless. "At this point, my pants are already soaked, I might as well give up, I have to go so badly." A says as they finally let go of the torrent of stress they have from holding and begin to release. "Oh...that's better... I had to pee so badly.." A says as they release all of the liquid left in their bladder, with their legs quivering as they continue to piss whatever is left within them. "Ahhh.. I really need to call B now to come help me." A thinks as they finally finish peeing. "A? Oh my god are you alright? You're soaked." B says as they enter through the entrance disguised as a mirror to A. "I'm sorry B... I really needed to go and..." A couldn't even finish their sentence with the tears rolling down their cheeks of shame and embarrassment. "Hey B, its alright. I'm not going to shame you. I understand you couldn't find the exit. I love you alright. Don't worry, you can use my sweater to hide your pants from public view." B says with a warmth and tender love in his eyes as he looks at A. "Thank you sweetheart... I see you won that stuffed duck for me though." A says with a smile on their face. "Yeah sweetheart. It's all yours, now lets get you cleaned up.

#omorashi #relief #omocute #male omorashi

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feralego · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟷 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

NAME : penelope "pippa" higgins

EYE COLOR : a deep burgundy, often mistaken for dark brown under indirect lighting.

HAIR STYLE / COLOR : dark brown. sometimes experiments with complimentary highlights or lowlights. typically worn in a half updo, with a bit of fringe to frame her face. around shoulder length, usually, but likes the luxury of extensions for special events.

HEIGHT : 5'3".

CLOTHING STYLE : a typical outfit consists of knee high leather or suede boots with chunky heels; dark tights or socks that peek up over the top of the boot; an argyle, houndstooth, or tartan miniskirt; a solid color sleeveless top tucked into the high waist of the skirt; and an optional oversized cardigan. favors an all black and white, blush and brown, or red and plum color scheme. "preppy professional" is the best way i can think to describe it.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE : her lips, or her big doe eyes.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟸 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

FEARS : being forgotten, pushed aside, replaced, or betrayed.

GUILTY PLEASURE : texting exes the moments she finds herself single again. leaving relationships before she gets left. flirting with people she's not interested in to feel wanted.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE : cabinet or closet doors being left open.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE : she has this vague idea of wanting to take part in the bettering of the future for mutantkind. and she's taken to working for tao--for xerox--as a member of the vigilante group known as the hazards. but this has excused her from thinking too hard about any concrete plans of her own, whether or not she's aware of that fact.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟹 : 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP : "too hot!" and then proceeds to kick every blanket off.

THEY THINK ABOUT MOST : whether or not she's truly deserving of love. her late brother, and the trauma of his illness and death. how to make tao and asmee proud of her.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED : whether or not she burned off enough energy to safely fall asleep without having to worry about burning herself, anyone she's sharing a bed with, or the bed itself.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS : her drive to be helpful, probably. but some would say her excessive need to feel useful is a weakness, not a laudable trait.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟺 : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES : it depends how secure the relationship is/how long they've been together tbh. early on, she has a serious preference for one-on-one dates. grows to like group dates more a few years in, if they get to that point.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED : loved.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS : beauty.

DOGS OR CATS : dogs. doesn't mind cats, but prefers dogs a hundred times over.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟻 : 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘…

LIE : daily. it's literally a part of her job while posing as tao song's personal assistant., and that's not counting everything else she lies about.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES : sometimes. she's slowly growing more and more confident in herself as she gets older--and as she puts her worst relationship behind her--but she has her bad days still.

BELIEVE IN LOVE : yes, to an arguably detrimental degree.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟼 : 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑…

BEEN ON STAGE : yes!

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN : oh, definitely. she's had a few identity crises after doing so for long enough to forget who she really is.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟽 : 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

FAVORITE COLOR : pink.

FAVORITE ANIMAL : probably dogs, but anything small and cuddle-shaped.

FAVORITE BOOK : she's a fanfic reader, not a book reader. don't tell anyone.

FAVORITE GAME : she really likes blackjack and poker, tbh. marshall taught her a lot prior to a mission in las vegas a while back, and she really took a shine to them.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟾 : 𝐀𝐆𝐄.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE : march 21st

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE : 26 (verse dependent)

TAGGED BY: @exspiritment

TAGGING: @losuenitos for gabi + anyone else who wants to do this ofc.

#moodboard:// pippa

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jeremy-ken-anderson · 9 months

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So You're Thinking to Start FFXIV

I see guides that are like, "What job to choose in FFXIV" and they miss two important points:

More than half the jobs at this point are not available from the start of the game

The jobs that ARE available aren't called the names they eventually get, because the game started with the MMO tradition of some jobs growing into others.

So. An actual start-of-game quick-and-dirty guide to help you pick:

Archer: Ranged Physical is its classification, a group defined by the ability to keep attacking while running around. So if the boss is about to smash where you're standing you can run away and keep shooting. Early Archer is very simple - some find it too simple and get bored with it. However a) like all the classes it eventually gets a lot of depth and b) if you're trying to get through the early bit of the game faster it gets a sprint move with no limited use about 10 levels before people get mounts, so it's literally what I'd start as if I were to do a speedrun of the MMO.

General Thing: The Combo: A basic thing that shows up in FFXIV is combos, where after you use one move another will light up. Early on, those lit-up buttons always do the most damage. You eventually get powerful moves with huge cooldowns that out-damage them but at the start you can just click what lights up and do pretty well.

Gladiator and Marauder: These days the super early game differences are all aesthetic. Gladiator is sword-and-shield and honor and Marauder is a giant axe and might. In both cases you have a tank stance and when you have it on anything you attack will start attacking you instead of their previous target unless that target was also a tank. You have a 2-hit combo that eventually will be a 3-hit combo. You also have a self-buff to do more damage for a limited period, with Gladiator's being longer and Marauder's being more powerful but for just 3 hits. If you're excited by the fantasy of being the Knight in Shining Armor or the Invincible Berserker but scared about the responsibility of tanking, don't be. The game eases you into it with several pretty easy dungeons to help you get your feet planted under you.

Conjurer: The healing class. Early on this is very simple because your heals recover something like 70% of your hp bar. You put Aero (a DoT) on your opponents, then cast Stone until they die. If you're worried about multiple people at once you can cast Medica for a group heal, and you can revive fallen allies in combat with Raise. If you're really clever you can use Swiftcast, which makes your next spell instant, to skip the 8-second cast time on Raise. And if you're really clever you can make a macro that automatically tries to cast Raise on every member of your party (a lot of macros aren't worth making because they cost in-battle time, but this one saves you the trouble of targeting the spell and therefore usually saves time). /micon Raise /merror off /ac Swiftcast /wait 1 /ac Raise <2> /ac Raise <3> /ac Raise <4> /ac Raise <5> /ac Raise <6> /ac Raise <7> /ac Raise <8> /wait 1 /ac "Lucid Dreaming" Copy-paste this into your macro window and select "Add Macro to Hotbar" on the new button's menu and now you have a setup that lets you press one button when someone falls and try to get them up immediately. If multiple people are down it even prioritizes the tanks and healers, which is usually the better strategy. Anyway, just like the tanks: don't be too intimidated by the responsibility of healing. The game will ease you into it. Early on I'd be more worried about whether it will bore you, and unlike Archer the offensive side of your toolkit doesn't get a lot more complicated. Instead you get a lot more tools for dealing with problems your party might have.

Lancer: You get buffs to your damage and you use them on your biggest hits. You also have two directions to go with your combo from fairly early, so you alternate between "combo that buffs my damage" and "combo that does more base damage" for maximum value.

Pugilist: Probably the most complicated early game. You have the fastest attack/cooldowns so you probably end up pushing the most buttons/minute. You have a back-and-forth combo like Lancer but one part of it's every 2 and one part of it's every 3, if you want to do optimal damage. Also you have positional strikes, where you do extra damage from certain angles with some of your attacks.

Other jobs also have positionals, but Pugilist introduces them earliest.

Arcanist: You get a cute little carbuncle friend! You alternate between a "give myself a buff to my regular attack and spam that" phase and a "use special spells that are temporarily unlocked" phase. Eventually you get something that gives you 2 spells you can instant-cast in between your regular spells for bonus damage.

Thaumaturge: Pretty explosions. You spend the most time standing still but at this level you deal the most damage of anyone, if you can stand still. You alternate between ice spells that recover your mana and fire spells that spend it to do big damage, with a bit of thunder DoT damage to keep things interesting.

That's everyone you can start as.

Rogue: You can swap to this once you get a combat class to level 10, when you're first allowed to unlock alternate classes. Early on it's got a debuff that makes the target take bonus damage from everyone, as well as a 1-2-3 combo that ends with bonus damage if you can strike from behind.

At the same time you'll be allowed to swap to any of the other starting classes, so don't worry too much about this decision.

Honorable Mention: At 10 you also unlock all the Crafting and Gathering jobs, like Miner, Fisher, and Goldsmith. These aren't for progressing the plot, but I like them as fun diversions and there are good stories in the class level-up quests for each.

At level 30 the jobs all change names.

Archer -> Bard

Gladiator -> Paladin

Marauder -> Warrior

Conjurer -> White Mage

Lancer -> Dragoon

Pugilist -> Monk

Arcanist -> Summoner

Arcanist -> Scholar

Thaumaturge -> Black Mage

Rogue -> Ninja

The Arcanist-to-Scholar change is easily the most confusing. I recommend playing Conjurer a bit to get used to the idea of healing before playing Scholar. The rest really are just changes to your vibe, but with mechanics continuing to grow on what you've already learned.

Everything else requires level 50+, which means you'll already be more comfortable with the game and besides all those other guides I mentioned before cover those topics better.

#ffxiv #guide

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boxfullaturtles · 1 year

Note

16, 22, 29 for the fanfic asks!

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles? It kind of depends on what I'm working on, but a lot of the time the placeholder title ends up becoming the title lol If it's a one-shot, I likely come up with the title after it's finished, usually trying to pull from the themes of the fic or something that covers what the one-shot is about. For multi-chapters, the title doesn't tend to come until a while into writing it. "Adagio in Green" was just saved as "Obligatory Post-Movie Recovery Fic" until very recently, and that was only after I spent an hour or so making lists of title ideas.

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing it? Just like with titles, it varies. Most of the time, I have a specific scene or scenes that I want to write and I'll try to find a way to wrap it up from there. For the one-shots like my Bad Things Happen Bingo, I generally have an end goal in mind as I don't usually like to leave those hanging ("We Were Born to Suffer and Love" is an exception to that). Fun facts: "Adagio in Green" does not currently have an ending and it is haunting me like too much garlic butter sauce...

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) so many options to choose from... Very well, he's a huge chunk I cut from "Mortal Shell" because, as much as I loved the idea, it was unfortunately ruining the pacing and took away from Mikey's part of the narrative [under a cut because it's LONG]

“What can I do to help?” Casey yells above the Prism’s increasingly louder screaming, one hand clutching his hockey saw and the other braced on Leo’s shell.

Leo’s glowing eyes wash Casey’s face in white-blue neon, “Well? You’re a Hamato, aren’t you? You heard Raph! Ninpō up, brother!”

Casey’s face goes through a rapid series of emotions, his eyes shining with tears he blinks stubbornly away, “B-but I’m not—I don’t—I’ve never done this before! I don’t think I even have Ninpō!”

“It is within you, Future Boy,” Splinter’s light joins Raph’s and Leo’s, a pillar of steadfast starlight, a comet blazing through the darkness. It sings and soars, strong and supportive, “You’ll find it.” He lays a paw on the Prism’s side and it’s screaming cranks up another notch.

“B-but,” Casey sputters, looking lost, “But I’m not like you!”

Donnie claps Casey on the shoulder as he passes, smirking at him, “Yeah? Well that never stopped April. Why would it stop you?” And then he is a fierce purple, blending easily between Raph and Leo, his hand on the Prism’s shoulder.

Mikey is nearly blown away by the onslaught of his family’s Ninpō sweeping over him, their power both comforting and crushing in equal measure. The hair-raising static of a lightning storm blazing blue, the clinical gleam of computers breathing violet ozone, the impenetrable crush of red earth, and the cold steel of a white moon lighting up the night. It presses against him, makes him want to wrap his arms around it all and pull it close. It’s his family, it’s them, it’s everything they are in gorgeous light and breath-taking glory.

And Casey stands like an uncertain shadow at Leonardo’s side.

Hesitantly, Mikey alights beside him and reaches out a hand.

His palm rests on Casey’s shoulder for a moment and he feels

guilt scared hopeful worry worry anxious nervous energy hope

(oh god it sounds like a Krang beast, it acts like one, I can’t do this, I can’t watch this, it’s too much)

not Michelangelo, please, I can’t go through this again

want to help want to help want to help want to help

before he gently slips inside.

Casey is a flower growing in the cracks of the pavement, hardy and determined and stubborn despite his circumstances. He is a forest after a fire has raged through it, slowly regrowing and mending, healing what has been hurt, restoring what has been lost. He is a shy and flickering cluster of fireflies in a dark field beneath faint starlight, uncertain and wary, but still blinking their messages out into the night, calling, calling, calling.

Mikey answers.

“Casey.”

“M-Master Michelangelo!? What!? How!?”

Mikey’s laugh is a summer breeze through the midnight field, “Like Leo said, you’re a Hamato, right?”

“I...I don’t—”

He’s not one hundred percent sure of what he’s doing, but Mikey follows his heart and his instinct. He reaches out and

the swarm of fireflies drift hesitantly towards the warm fire

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Mikey says. In the landscape of metaphors and symbolism, Mikey takes Casey’s hands in his own, orange fire swirling over tarnished gold, “We’re your family, Casey. We trust you to have our backs, just like you trust us to have yours.”

The dandelions falter in the shadows of fallen skyscrapers. A surge of black tar threatens to swallow them whole, bubbling from the pits of a future that will no longer happen and stinking of rot and bile.

Mikey can see the memories, the things Casey does not like to talk about. The ravaged world, the ruins, the tainted red sky, the air thin and choked with smoke, the sun gone. The earth is dead, nothing grows, thousands die.

But there is also hope. And warmth. And family.

A mother’s voice. A firm and steady hand. The flash of a sword he knows will always protect him. A beaming smile. The glow of screens. A sarcastic joke. A familiar laugh. The rough texture of a shell. A hand holding his.

“Hold onto that,” Mikey whispers to the fireflies gathering at his fingertips, “Remember them. It hurts, I know it hurts. But remember you were never alone. And you never will be.”

the fireflies are a dense pocket of light, bathed in the warmth of the dancing flames

“A ninja’s greatest weapon…!”

“We’ll see you again, Case.”

“Casey!”

“We’re right here, I promise.”

“You’re safe.”

“Casey Jones…”

“I’m proud of you.”

and then they bloom

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

Mikey pulls away from Casey in a rush, twisting in midair with a grin on his face as he watches the boy light up. Bronze and gold glow from within him, spilling into his eyes until they sear a brilliant white-gold. His beacon is the mid-day sun glinting off the sides of cars, the rebar of construction sites, the highway signs on the overpass. He stands beside Leo and they both press their hands to the Prism.

The thing is screaming at such a high pitch now that it’s almost inaudible, streaks of metallic silver pouring from its face and now bubbling from some of the mystic scars on the arms. It stains the black wraps with a dull sheen and begins to drip over Raphael’s fingers. But he doesn’t let go.

Mikey moves to take his place beside his brothers and father, sliding his hand onto his body’s chest and flaring his own Ninpō in a cascade of flames. Light and color are flooding the room, the pressure of the power being generated enough to make the air vibrate and the arcade machines rattle. Through the blaze, between his brothers’ shoulders, Mikey can just make out Baron Draxum, starring in stunned awe sat the spectacle before him.

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” Leo’s voice, as clear and audible as if he had spoken the words aloud.

“Barry.” Mikey responds.

They all understand. In a single instantaneous moment, they simply know. All of them turn their heads to look at Baron Draxum, takes a startled step back at the sudden attention.

Splinter stretches out a hand, light curling off his palm in cool mist. An invitation.

Draxum hesitates. Then he moves forward and takes Splinter’s hand in his own, silver-white light wrapping tenderly around his wrist to pull him closer.

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

dabs in Hamato

yeah, originally was gonna have this bit of Barry and Casey both unlocking their Ninpo

buuuutttt it ruined the pacing, took away the focus from Mikey, and I feel like something that significant should be given more attention than just one scene like this, so it was cut and Casey gets like five lines in the whole fic now, sorry Casey

#fan fic ask game #mortal shell fic

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

She's A Bird! She's A Plane! She's...Spiderwoman?

Justice League x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: IDK where this came from but I was watching ITSV, so...there's that. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“This is your fault,” Barry griped, hacking away at the glowing fauna with the makeshift machete—in reality it was just a really big stick that had a really sharp rock tied to the end. “I told you our trajectory was off and what did you do? You said, ‘I’m Hal Jordan, the greatest pilot in the world. Watch my big head crash us on an alien planet where our central battery gets displaced during the impromptu crash land and thrown miles from our position’.”

“Do you want some cheese with all that whine, Bar?” Hal asked, an unimpressed scowl on his face as he illuminated their footpath. “It’s not my fault the orbital windspeeds were faster than the sensors picked up on. Blame the tech, not me.”

“That sounds like you’re just trying to pass off the blame,” he shot back, swiping down at another vine that wriggled like a dying snake and spat out fluorescent blue liquid on the broken end. “Y’know? Like you do best?”

“Seriously, find a better thing to do than complain, Flash. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than blaming each other.”

“Each other? I didn’t do anything! This was all you!” Barry spun on Hal and glared at him.

They glowered at each other when a clicking sound echoed above them and they both jumped a foot in the air, spinning back-to-back as they looked around in every direction, up and down and side to side.

“What the hell was that?” Hal worried.

“I don’t know,” Barry replied, just as concerned. “It sounded like clacking.”

“That did not sound like a chicken.”

“Clacking, Hal, not clucking.”

“Same thing,” he retorted, lifting his arm in the air, shining a bright green light amongst the glowing red treetops. A bunch of branches, neon red leaves and purple flowers, a darting limb—a darting limb?

Hal shifted the light back, jolting Barry’s shoulder in the process. “What is it?”

“There’s something above us,” he whispered, watching with cautious eyes as something shifted on the main branch of the tree, the outline of a dark head coming out, just enough to catch the edge of their bright gold eye. “It’s watching us.”

The something shifted back into cover, the clacking sounding once more, then the treetop ruffled, dropping red and purple fauna on the two men as it jumped to another tree. Hal tried to follow it, but it was too fast for his eyes; the only thing it left behind though was a string of long white webbing, hanging down from the blue tree branch. And Hal being the idiot he was, decided to touch it to see if he could figure out what it was, and only managed to get it all over his hands.

He pouted, trying to pull apart his hands. “It’s sticky.”

Barry let out a long and heavy sigh, placing one hand at the small of his best friend’s back, the other holding the machete. “Come on, dumb-dumb. Let’s go find that thing again.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how the survivors live? I know we’re white, but I didn’t think we were that white.” He was half tempted to see if he could gnaw the webbing with his teeth. “This shit isn’t coming off.”

“Here,” Barry said, vibrating his hand as fast as he could and to Hal’s surprise, the webbing cut, falling to the ground.

“Thanks!” he chirped, holding his arm out again to shine his ring. “What do you think that thing was?”

“Alien lifeform.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away? The alien world?”

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Barry growled, cutting through another rough patch of vines. As the path cleared, they stepped out of the heavily forested area to see one older tree in the center of the circle. It rested atop what looked like an ancient cave, the rocks crumbling around the front.

“I’m not going in there,” Hal immediately stated. “You couldn’t pay me all the money the US owes in debt to go in there. Fuck that.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Barry chuckled, walking up to the entrance; it was about the twelve feet high and ten feet wide, big enough for the two of them to walk in. “Come on. It went in here.”

“Barry, please! Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Hal begged. “You should be more worried!”

“Hal, if it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve done so already.”

“Or maybe it’s luring us to our deaths!” he countered, even though he was following Barry into the cave.

There was more webbing along the walls of the cave, swirling around patterns of purple and blue. The farther they walked the stickier it got, and at one point, they were struggling to lift their feet off the cave floor to take the next step.

“Christ, what is this stuff?” Hal asked and Barry bent down, poking at the webbing.

“It’s like spider webbing, but stickier and stronger.” He vibrated his hand to dislodge it from the strings, then did it around Hal’s feet. “You might wanna float for now. I’ll vibrate my feet to keep from sticking.”

“Good idea,” Hal agreed, lifting a few inches off the ground. “Do you think the lifeform is intelligent?”

“Intelligent us or just intelligent?”

“Intelligent us.”

“Anything’s possible. It seemed sentient so I believe it’s probably intelligent.”

“What do you define as intelligent, Barry?” Hal questioned and the forensic scientist hummed.

“If it’s capable of calculus it’s intelligent.”

“Really? If it can do math homework you think it’s worthy?”

“Calculus is a difficult skill. You need the ability to think and to calculate in order to solve and understand it. That requires sentience and intellige—oh shit!” Barry’s words tipped into a yelp as the ground gave way beneath him and he sunk down, shouting all the way.

Hal’s eyes shot wide, and he flew down the hole. “Barry!” he yelled. “Barry where are—oof!” he collided with more of the webbing, this time enough that the entire left side of his body was stuck to it.

“Hal! You okay!”

He looked over, seeing Barry stuck on his back. “I’m okay? You!”

Barry nodded. “I’ve been better. What is this?” they looked around the best they could. Spiral upon spiral of iridescent webbings surrounded them, stuck to the walls for support, them in the center.

Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glowered at Barry. “I fucking told you it was luring us here.”

“Shut u—”

The clacking sounded above them and with panic, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling, watching as the alien lowered down near them. It looked like a human, two arms and two legs, no extra limbs at all. Hell, it didn’t even look like an alien spider; it just looked like a normal human, gazing down at them with two normal eyes. That was until it opened all six of its golden eyes and stared down at them with it’s mouth open, two one-inch fangs protruding from where the canines were.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Hal whispered, about to shit himself in terror.

The alien reached for Barry, and he watched as his friend sunk back into the webbing from the outstretched hand. Except he couldn’t go any farther and turned his head to the side, quietly whimpering as the long black claws touched his cheek.

“Barry!” Hal hissed and blue eyes met his, then,

“Friends!” the alien shouted. “New friends for Rhiezheveir to have!”

Their expressions pinched in confusion as the being started to twirl in the air, one hand holding to the webbing they’d lowered down on, the other elegantly flowing in the air.

“You can understand us?” Barry wondered and they looked down.

“Yes!” leaning down, they got in his face, and he saw the rather feminine looking features. “Rhiezheveir saw the ship come in the sky and land! I waited until you left it to search! The ship’s memory functions in this language!” she seemed rather excited. “Rhiezheveir found the core you were looking for! I did not know how to get you here to return it!”

She climbed up the webbing, disappearing quickly only to reappear with the ship’s core under her free arm. “Here it is! Rhiezheveir brought it back!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hal inquired and she lowered down next to his face, hers right in front of his.

“Saying what?”

“Rhieza-something-reservoir?”

“Rhiezheveir?” she offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

“Rhiezheveir is my name! I am named after the brightest star in the Kosialaran sky!”

“In the what sky?” Barry asked.

“Kosialaran!” she answered. “This planet’s name! My planet!”

“Are there more of you?” Hal questioned. “You’re the only intelligent life we’ve seen besides bloodthirsty beats trying to eat us.”

“Yes, I saw you fight with the Erqurcus. They are not nice lizards. They like to bite Rhiezheveir when she tries to feed them.”

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Barry piped up. “Sometimes you use first too.”

“In Aissaveed culture, we commonly refer to ourselves in the third, though I learned from watching, that humans use first. Rhiezheveir is learning to mix them.” She smiled and the clacking sounded again.

Hal tried to look at her. “What is that noise?”

Bending down to his face again, she flashed her fangs. “They click when I get excited!”

Barry cleared his throat. “Um, Rhiezheveir, are there more of your kind in the area?”

“Not here. On the other side of the planet there is. Rhiezheveir has travelled far to get away from her people’s hunters. They do not like me.”

“How come?”

“Rhiezheveir broke tradition. Refused to be royal consort. Fled and hid here.” She let the tips of her toes touch the delicate silk webbing and then crouched, the web bouncing lightly with the weight. “Rhiezheveir is not welcome amongst her people anymore. I am alone now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Barry murmured, even empathetical of the alien. “You’re here all alone?”

“Yes! Though not anymore!” she patted both Hal and Barry’s thighs. “New friends!”

Hal wiggled. “I hate to break it to you, Reservoir, but—”

“Rhiezheveir,” she corrected, and he sighed.

“Rhiezheveir. But we have to get back to our own planet. We have responsibilities.”

Barry nodded. “We need to get back to our ship.” he tugged against the webbing. “Can you help us get out of this? We’re stuck.”

“Of course!” she chirped, starting to snip the webbing with her claws.

“Wait a second!” Hal exclaimed. “There’s nothing underneath meAHHHHH!” the last thread snapped, and Hal tumbled down the dark and dimly lit cavern.

“Rhiezheveir!” Barry yelled. “What are you doing!”

She held up a finger in a wait motion, then a wet plop sounded, followed by, “NEVERMIND! I’M OKAY! THIS WATER SMELLS FUNNY THOUGH!”

The Speedster sighed. “Oh, there’s water down there.”

She looked at Barry oddly. “Rhiezheveir would not try to kill her new friends. That is not nice.” Snipping the lines around him, she held on as he fell and she let out a squeal as they dropped, though as Barry hit the water, she merely held on to the web in her hand, just above the body.

Barry broke the water and spit out the remaining in his mouth. “Water tastes funny too.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Rhiezheveir, how do we get out of here?”

She smiled. “Follow me!” she shot out her free hand and another string of webbing left her hand, attaching to the roof of the cavern; letting go with her other hand, she swung like a monkey on a vine, then repeated the process, alternating her hands. And boy she was fast. Barry and Hal had to freehand like they were in the Olympics to keep up, and even then, it wasn’t fast enough.

***

By the time they made it back to the ship, their hair and clothes had dried off. They noticed that she didn’t like to be on the ground and crawled along the tree limbs above them. Bioluminescent flower petals shook from the branches every time she moved, creating an aura of beautiful red and purple around them.

Barry took the battery from her and slot it back into place, watching as they ship powered back to life; he walked over to Hal who was sitting in the first seat. “Everything good?”

Hal nodded. “A few nicks here and there, but the engine and all other vital systems are good.” He looked up. “We should be good to go once the power levels reach operational.”

The Speedster smiled and turned to her. “Well, Rhiezheveir, this is goodbye.”

She merely blinked. “What do you mean goodbye? I am coming with you.”

“There’s not enough room,” Hal said, and she smiled, those fangs clacking as she raised her arms.

“I will make myself small!” her dark body illuminated in a bright gold, then the shape began to shrink and shift, eight long legs appearing out of the main shape that had evolved into two orb like shapes. When the glow dispersed, she raised her front legs and waved, then skittered up Barry’s leg and body to his head.

“I have a spider on my head.” He said dumbly. “I have an alien spider nuzzling my hair.” Barry looked at Hal. “There’s a spider in my hair.”

Hal shrugged. “So long as it stays on you, we’re good.” He peered at her. “Rhiezheveir, can you understand us in there?”

She waved her front legs as Barry climbed into the ship, sitting on his seat; she scurried down his head to his shoulder and sat there, perfectly balanced, her beady golden eyes occasionally blinking.

“That’s a big ass spider,” Hal noted.

“She reminds me of a Goliath birdeater.”

“A what now?”

“Goliath birdeater. It’s the biggest spider on earth.” He examined her. “But her legs are so long…like a huntsman spiders’. I wonder if she’s got the abilities of different species?”

Barry reached up, holding out his hand and she climbed on it, letting him lower her to his lap. “Can you sit there while we take off, Rhiezheveir? Once were out of atmosphere, you can wander around the cockpit.”

All she merely did was raise her front legs and wave them once more before settling on his thighs, curling her legs in contently; he smiled down at her, then the realization of what bringing her meant and he blurted out, “I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to the others.”

“What do you mean?” Hal questioned.

Barry looked at him. “The crash land will be easy—you’re an idiot.” He ignored Hal’s outcry of offense and gestured to her. “How do we explain we picked up a shapeshifting spider…lady?”

Hal shrugged. “Hostile environment navigated by a peaceful intelligent lifeform who managed to be a stowaway?”

“I like the first half up until ‘who’.” Barry met his gaze. “She was threatened by her own people and begged to help her flee?”

The pilot pursed his lips. “We’ll need to use her reasoning for leaving. The whole royal consort business.”

“Sounds good.” Barry glanced down at her. “Rhiezheveir, does that sound—oh…I think she’s asleep.”

Hal looked down to Barry’s lap and sure enough, the hand-sized spider wasn’t moving on his legs other than the occasional leg twitch. “Sure she didn’t die?”

“Hal!” Barry hissed. “Don’t be mean!” he gently scratched her the top of her abdomen with his pointer finger.

“You’ve pack-bonded with a spider,” Hal noted. “Nice job, buddy.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t find her friendly.”

“She’s a spider.”

“She’s an alien who turns into a spider.” He watched the planet get smaller and smaller as they exited the orbit and into the stars. “Bruce isn’t going to be happy that we brought an alien back.”

“I think the pressing matter is that we have no idea what she eats.”

“Bugs?”

“You said she was an alien who turns into a spider, Bar. What’s she going to eat when she’s human…like?”

“Meat?” Barry wiggled his fingers in Hal’s side. “Man-flesh.”

Hal choked on a laugh, batting at the hand against his ribs. “Stop that.” He steered the ship through a debrief field with ease. “We’d better figure out or she’ll eat somebody in the middle of a fight.”

“In a fight?” Barry asked.

Hal shot him a look. “We didn’t take this Lady Spider with us just to get her off her home-world. She’s gonna help out somewhere.” He shrugged. “Might as well stick her in the Justice League.”

Barry’s lips pulled satisfactory. “That’s…actually a good idea.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to show her to Bruce. You know he doesn’t like spiders?”

“He’s scared of spiders?”

“I didn’t say he was scared of them, Hal. He just doesn’t like them. I think creepy crawlies make his skin crawl.”

Hal shoved him in the arm. “Don’t call her creepy crawly. She’s a pretty spider.”

“What happened to making fun of her?” Barry smirked. “You pack-bonded with the pretty alien spider lady, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hal griped, going still when she shifted and crawled up the dash of the ship and stared out the window; she turned, waving her front legs. “Yeah Rhiezheveir? What is it?”

She pointed to the stars, drawing her front legs in downward arcs as if to say, “Wow!”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Barry murmured and she did it again; he looked curiously at her. “Hey Rhiezheveir, you can understand us, right?”

She waved.

“Okay. Since you can’t talk to us until we get back, how about this—front legs up is ‘yes’ and front legs down is ‘no’. Do you understand?”

She lifted her legs up and he grinned.

“Good. Now, do you like warm places?”

Her legs went up, then down.

“Sort of?”

Up.

“You like warm and cool weather?”

Up.

“We’re going back to our world. There’re many habitats there. Some really hot and really cold. Others are in the middle.” He explained, watching her almost nod. “We’ll be meeting the group Hal and I work with on another ship. You’ll have to stay there for the time being. Is that okay?”

She lifted her legs up.

Hal leaned over. “Rhiezheveir, are you a spider that sometimes turns into a lady?”

Her legs stayed down.

“So, you’re a lady that sometimes turns into a spider?”

Up.

“Nice. Can you fight?”

Up and waving wildly.

Barry looked at Hal then back to her. “You said you refused the position of royal consort. Were you chosen because you could fight?”

Up.

“So, you escaped because you didn’t want to be forced into that position?”

Still up.

Barry nodded solemnly. “Rest assured, Rhiezheveir, you won’t be forced into anything like that on Earth. You’ll be free and able to live openly and not in hiding.”

Her legs stilled in the air, then the curled and Hal muttered, “I think you overwhelmed her emotionally.”

The Speedster cupped the spider in his hands, letting her crawl back into his lap. “Sorry, Rhiezheveir. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She merely snuggled into his lap and stayed there.

“Rhiezheveir,” Hal started. “Your name is really complicated for humans to say. While I think it would be a good identity for a superhero life, I think you should find an easier name for people to use.”

She waved a single leg, signaling she was listening.

“How about (Y/N)?”

Barry smiled. “Ooo, I like (Y/N). That’s a pretty name.”

She raised her front legs and waved them excitedly.

“I think Rhiezheveir likes it too.” He scratched her torso. “Welcome to the Justice League (Y/N). You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

(Y/N) waved her front legs, rearing up on her back.

“HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER FANGS!” Hal shouted.

530 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

Charred

Horrortober Day 7: Shock “You look like a deer caught in the headlights.”

Ah yes. Angels. Complicated beings, I love them. Randomizer sure gave me an interesting combination for this day, but I am not complaining :D Also, if you are one of the people leaving a comment on my posts, please just know you are everything. I love you ♥ Even if they are in the tags, I am so happy to read your thoughts and feelings, it really helps so much to stay positive and motivated! ;;

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Corrupted Angel, Mild violent outburst Characters: Simeon x Reader

Angels aren't human.

How could you have forgotten?

Running through this godforsaken hallway, you were constantly blinded by lights. Little remnants of Simeon's power, one you didn't know he had. "I should have known better," you thought as you shielded your eyes from another flash caused by an orb to your left. If only the holy magic Simeon was able to use wasn't that harmful to your vision. If only he wouldn't use it on you. If only you never let it come this far.

But how could you have known? You thought you two were friends and like-minded people when you got closer to Simeon as you two attended RAD as exchange students. You weren't that kind of sinner; you never gave yourself hope there could be anything beyond friendship. And you weren't looking for it either. But to dismiss his exalted status as well, that one was on you. Of course he could use magic that was dangerous to you, especially with how little Simeon could understand human emotions.

Sure, he could crack a smile at a joke, show sadness, and give comfort, but he only did what he learned to do, feigning his sympathy. He didn't mean to hurt anyone with it, but it just wasn't in him to feel as humans do, or else it was threatening to defile them. Angels aren't human, they couldn't feel emotions like you did, and when they did, well, this is what happened.

Simeon was a mess. He was beside himself, trying to figure out what was wrenching his body. Ironically, it had been Lucifer who warned you about this. He kept himself brief when talking about angels and corruption, not wanting to open his own wounds. But he still made a point to tell you that it was overwhelming and maddening to have lived for centuries and only then regaining an emotional conscience. It war pain. Suffering. A change that would take months and years to overcome.

And it was all the scarier how quiet it made Simeon.

He didn't tell you what was happening, and you didn't notice it, busy with your duties and the brothers. You should have seen it! You blamed yourself for not being more careful as his friend, but it was already too late. When he started to demand more of your time and attention, glaring at the others for taking up his space by your side, it should have rung some alarm bells. It was almost painfully obvious that him getting more touchy when you were together and antsy when you pulled away was a warning of what was to come. Maybe you chose to ignore it. Perhaps you thought your friendship could survive him being irrational and angry, snapping at you and others at times.

But by the time Simeon became what he wasn't supposed to be, he had already kidnapped you somewhere strange and magical, just as twisted and scary as he was now. It was like an endless dark, ancient castle. Rooms with high ceilings and tall windows looking into the nothingness around the building. The insides were decorated, but the colors everywhere were constantly shifting, nauseatingly so. Sometimes white, sometimes grey. Gold accents, then copper. The temperature was hot when you were awake and cold when you slept. You knew it was magical and tied to Simeon, but that made it all the more uncomfortable and scary. You didn't want to experience this. You never asked for it! Part of you knew what was going on, and it made the realization worse.

There had been moments of clarity in his eyes when you pleaded with him to get a grip, but they fogged over with emotions an angel shouldn't have. When you tried to reason with him, he got jealous over the argument that others would come looking at you. "You're mine!" he screamed, and then his eyes cleared as he regretted his words, leaving you alone abruptly before you could say another word. He was ashamed and scared, you had seen it in his expression, but he still came back as if nothing happened.

On the surface, he was still the Simeon you knew. The one you loved. But he was so quickly offended and angered by now that you only grew more worried every day. Suddenly he started locking your room or would sit and watch you sleep, and you were scared of this angel that wasn't an angel anymore.

So… you ran.

At the first opportunity, you ran. The hallway seemed endless, and you didn't know where you were going. Flashes went off every few steps, and you ran into a few amenities blindly. Even if it was pure madness and wouldn't help either of you, you couldn't do this. The longer you stayed, the worse Simeon got. You needed to find help for him—and for you. That was the only way. The others would know what to do! They could do something for Simeon that you weren't able to, give him stability and support him in these hard times. You were just a human and didn't know if Simeon could remain an angel after all that happened, but if he could, that's what you wished for him from the bottom of your heart. You never intended any of this to happen, and secretly, you didn't want to be the reason for it.

"AH!" with a loud shriek, you were caught by a slice of light right in front of you. It was like a slit opening up, but even brighter than the orbs that had exploded before that. You could recognize magic when you saw it by now. Simeon's magic. Flashy, dazzling, unbefitting of the tumult he was going through. Simeon was far stronger than you expected him to be, but you realized now that you took his calm and sweet demeanor for weakness, when really, it was mercy.

Tumbling backwards, you landed on your side, your arm throbbing as you slowly tried to get up again. It should have shocked you more to see the person slowly stepping out of the light, but you could barely see anyway, only recognizing the voice as he spoke up. "My, you look like a deer caught in the headlights."

Finally, the light shining at you terrifyingly bright vanished, leaving only you two behind in the warped hallway. It took you a few blinks to recover from it, tiny sparks flying through your vision when you looked up at Simeon. Other than the dark corridor, Simeon was wearing his pristine, white clothes. Pure and amiable. Nothing like the inner tumult he was battling, and still, he looked nothing like the Simeon you knew. The kind Simeon. The one you loved.

You feared he was already gone.

Around you, the colors of the castle shifted to nightmarish black while accents turned into a deep red, all while you and Simeon never broke eye contact. He was walking towards you, hand on his chest and smiling in greeting. You once loved his reassuring smiles, the encouraging message they delivered. But this one was menacing and cold, as was his voice when he spoke up again.

"Where are you going?" he asked curtly, right to the point. Biting your lip, you only looked away. You wanted to argue, but good could come out of that? When you cracked your room's lock, you thought it would take him longer to find out. Long enough for you to form a plan, but it only now crossed your minds that the lights you encountered could have been like security cameras for Simeon to check in the case you ever did break out.

"There is no leaving this place, my dove. You know this. Why are you testing me."

"Why are you keeping me here?" you asked the same question he ignored so many times. Though this time, he indeed had something to say to it.

"It's dangerous out there. Demons will get to you, blemish your skin with their marks and rob you of your life. Aren't you worried at all?"

"I'd like to see for myself what I can do out there," you retorted firmly. "I think you're losing it, Simeon. You are nothing like you were when we were students."

Confronting him may not have been the best idea as his once so kind eyes turned moody, smile turning into a frown as you mentioned the past. "No, I am better. I can protect you now. I take care of you. You owe me more respect if you think I've gone mad. The only thing making me mad is you!"

Gulping, you looked at him. He was prideful now too. It was painful for you.

Simeon was slipping further and further. Every passing second was destroying him.

"Simeon, please," you whispered, pleading with him from the bottom of your heart. "I want to help you! B-But I don't know how! I need help to help you, I need to get out!"

"You're not going anywhere," he decided, cutting his hand through the air in a gesture signaling finality to his word. Kneeling down before you, he pulled you roughly into his chest, pressing your head against him. If there was any good that came out of the change, perhaps it was how open he was now to touches. You longed for this, for something longer than just a hug when you two met. But your heart was throbbing out of devastation now, rather than jumping from joy.

"Please get help," you pleaded, gripping his clothes. "I won't leave you, but please ask the brothers or Lord Diavolo for help, Simeon!"

"Never say their names again," he hissed at you, an unfamiliar hostility in his voice that brought you to tears. But Simeon held you as you cried into his chest. His comfort wasn't helpful, but what else did you have to cling to? If not for him, you would be alone and abandoned in this realm, and you had to painfully admit that he was indeed taking care of you. Good care. In his own, twisted way.

While you were still crying, Simeon carried you back to your room, laid you in your bed, and tugged you in. He did so with a frown deeply lodged on his beautiful face, the wrinkles so unfitting for an angel. But a small hope remained inside of you that you crying would make him see reason. Instead, he sat by your bedside as you two stared at each other, eventually muttering that he was going to get you some food before leaning down and kissing your forehead. You hated this affection. Actually, you hated that it was under these circumstances.

When Simeon got up, he left you without another look back over his shoulders, and you sniffled, the tears never drying out as you looked after him. So cold, so… lonely. He was in pain too, he must have been. If only there was a way to reverse it. To make him see reason and to calm his aching. You wished you could have helped him, at least a little bit. As a human, was there nothing you could do? Maybe just take some of the sins he was living through! As normal as they were for you, they were killing him from the inside.

The intense light from before flashed up as he opened the door to your room, blinding and stinging in your eyes. Still, you were already crying, and it was hard to avoid your gaze from Simeon even now. It was the first time you noticed his wings, usually concealed by magic, but as he used them, they came into plain view. You had believed until the last second that maybe there was a way to help him. To save him from this. But you were a little wiser as you looked at the feathers sprouting from his back. His beautiful, large wings.

Charred-black.

355 notes · View notes

frankiekatt · 3 years

Note

Wowy hii, saw that you're writing for slasher, so here I am!

Can I plz have some hcs about any slashers with s/o, but their s/o is a literal gremlin, like they're not serious at all, always joking and annoying people around, but sometimes might be quite soft and quiet.

Thank you and have a nice day! ❤️

This was fun to write lmao

Warnings: Sexual harassment, NSFW, murder, blood, canabilism

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Stu Macher, Michal Myers

Slashers With An S/O That Never Takes Anything Seriously:

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas is a little overwhelmed by your personality at first.

He’s a quiet and reserved man who’s never had any kind of friends, so goofiness and jokes can make him feel uneasy at first.

But!! He gets used to everything very quickly!!!

Thomas loves everything about you and he finds you to be incredibly charming.

He can get a little anxious when he sees you annoying Hoyt because he doesn’t want his uncle to do anything bad to you in irritation/retaliation.

Your jokes are always a stress reliever for him, since he spends most of his days in a dark basement, surrounded by blood and gore. Your humor just shines a little bit of light on his day, and he loves you for that!

While Luda Mae and Hoyt might not like the fact that you never take anything seriously, Thomas finds it relieving. At the beginning of your relationship, Thomas was terrified of losing you because he thought you would be terrified of all screams, murder, and cannabilism, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that you didn’t pay much mind to it.

Thomas’ family mostly saw you as a clown, but Thomas could only ever look at you as the brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced his life.

After all, he was the only one that saw your softer side.

Your soft and quiet side mostly shone through during the evening. Something about the sunset and cicada chirping calmed your heart.

You would often take Thomas by the hand and lead him outside to sit on the front porch with you, so the two of you could cuddle and watch the sunset together.

Thomas was always so used to your voice, because you loved to talk about anything and everything, so your temporary quiet nature was new, yet comforting.

During these moments, there didn’t need to be any talking between the two of you. You deep emotional bond allowed you both to communicate through actions.

You would lay your head on Thomas shoulder, stroking his chest, and Thomas would wrap his big arms around your smaller frame, resting his masked cheek against the top of your head.

This was Thomas’ way of saying, “I love you, you’re the best thing in my life,” and your way of saying “I could never live without you.”

Bo Sinclair:

You’re gonna annoy the fuck out of this boy

Sometimes you both wonder how the two of you even got together, but the nights you and Bo spent pleasuring each other, going round after round, reminded you both how. (Your both just sexy okay its that simple)

Bo was a serious guy, so he was a little miffed that he was always the one having to take the lead in everything since you just couldn’t stop making a joke out of everything.

Sometimes you would actually make him really irritated due to your tendency to irk people endlessly, so he would have to step away to cool off and blow off some steam.

Sometimes he would yell at you in anger, which always made him feel like shit after, so he tended to stalk off to his shop to calm down before speaking to you.

You would have to go see him a couple hours later to wrap your arms around him from behind and shyly apologize to him.

He favored these moments the most.

Your voice quieter than usual, focusing on just him, touching him gently.

He would always accept your apologies, of course, and would let you know by kissing your lips softly.

Bo liked to take advantage of your softer side by lifting you up by your waist and setting you on the hood of whatever car he had been working on and kissing down your neck.

As revenge, Bo liked to draw out his teasing as long as possible. Kissing down your neck, chest, stomach, massaging your pussy through your skirt, palming your breast roughly.

It gets to a point where you just have to tell him, “Bo, I need you to fuck me.”

And he would oblige.

He would take you right then and there, on the hood of the car.

The metal beneath you was always shockingly cold, making you shiver against Bo’s chest.

“You cold, Darlin,” Bo would ask teasingly as he pulled your panties off. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you right up.”

He would spend hours licking your pretty pink pussy if he could. He licks and sucks and kisses your most intimate part until you're shaking and crying above him, begging him to fuck you sensless.

After he’s satisfied with your helplessness, he’ll lean back up and ram himself inside of you. There have been many nights where he has taken you gently and slowly in his garage, holding your hand with every thrust, kissing your sweet lips to quiet your whimpers, but tonight was different. There was a primal need shared between you two. Bo wanted to let his frustrations on through loving you, and you wanted to be taken hard and fast.

When the two of you are done, you lounge around inside the car to catch your breath, holding hands. Everything seems so perfect.

Until-

“Hey, Bo? What did the toaster say to the slice of bread?”

“.....”

“I want you inside me! Eh ha ha..”

:////

Lester Sinclair:

!!!!!

You like constantly joking and never taking things seriously? He does too!!

Lester would find you absolutely hilarious. Every joke you cracked would have him doubling over in laughter. Which would make you double over in laughter. Which would make Lester laugh harder, because now you both have the giggles and both of your laughs are just too infectious.

Everytime the two of you would go to Ambrose to visit his brothers, you guys would annoy the hell out of Bo and Vincent. Bo just wants to be left alone to work in his shop but instead he’s stuck listening to you tell a 40 minutes story about how you burnt dinner last night.

And Vincent just wants to be left alone to paint and sculpt but instead he’s here listening to Lester crack jokes that are a.) not funny and b.) don’t make any sense. -_-

Your and Lester’s trailer is always filled with so much love and laughter and the two of you could not be any happier.

You both have your own soft and quiet moments that hit at random times.

Sometimes it happens when the two of you are play fighting in the living room, howling with laughter. You both fall to the floor, wrestling and giggling until the both of you run out of breath and just gaze at each other as you lay on the carpet.

“You look so cute,” he giggles.

“No, YOU look so cute!”

“W-well!!! I love you!!”

“Uhm...well...I love you MORE.”

And it just turns into an argument about who adores the other more.

Billy Lenz (1974):

The perfect couple.

Literally.

The two of you are always joking around, cackling and goofing about every little thing.

Billy has finally found his soulmate and he could not be happier.

He two of you prank the sorority girls together, making sex sounds in unison to sound even more vulgar.

Everytime you crack a joke, you get worried Billy is joking because of how hard he’s laughing.

“Umm Billy you okay? It wasn’t even that funny.”

“HA haha...piggy makes me laugh...Billy loves your jokes.”

Needless to say, your relationship is filled with smiles, laughter, and praise.

Billy will tell you you’re the funniest person he’s ever met and he wants to keep you forever.

You tell Billy you love how much he laughs at your antics and that you can’t live without him.

It’s impossible to annoy Billy. It’s just not feasible.

Any time you try, he’ll just giggle and pat your head, telling you you’re his ‘favorite piggy ever.’

He LOVES when you annoy the sorority girls thoug!

Hearing you moan and squeal and speak so sexily vulgarly to Barb and Jess makes Billy so proud. And horny.

Almost all of your sexual encounters are filled with complete silliness.

Sometimes, however, the joking and cackling subside. The two of you will just be chilling, nothing else to do, and you just feel the need to profess your love for your boyfriend.

“I love you so much Billy.”

Billy will look startled at your sudden outburst, before he breaks out in a huge grin, launching across the room to tackle you into a hug.

“Billy loves you too! Billy loves you more than anything!!!”

Now the rest of your day will be spent in Billy’s arms, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Stu Macher:

Match made in Heaven!

Stu loves to joke around.

He hardly ever takes anything seriously.

He annoys everyone.

And once he meets you? It's love at first sight.

The two of you are always in detention because you guys just cannot shut up in class. You are always disrupting something.

But you know what that means!

Detention dates <3

As long as the two of you together, Stu couldn't care less about where he was.

He and Billy appreciate your habit of not taking anything seriously because once the murders start occuring, you don't think too much about it, never asking questions or arousing suspicion around your boyfriend and his bestie.

When Billy had told Stu his plan to kill Sydney, and asked him if he was going to kill you as well, Stu’s heart sank.

He remembers when he was dating Tatum, just a few months ago, before he broke up with her for you, he had no qualms about killing her,

But you?

He loved you. You were his other half. The one person who understood him, who accepted him. He could never hurt you.

“Nah dude. I’m leaving her out of this.”

That night, he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.

“Stu! (where the hell have you been loca) What’re you doing here?”

The sparkling smile you flash at him and the love swimming in your big, beautiful eyes makes him feel even guitler.

He feels bad that you’re dating a serial killer. He thinks you deserve better, but he would never let you go.

“Hey babe! I just missed you!”

You rushed over to him, dressed in kitty cat pajamas, and hugged him tight. He had only snuck through your bedroom window a couple of times before, and they had all been planned. Seeing him in your room as a surprise made your heart burst with happiness.

Stu led you to your bed and pulled you up onto his chest to cuddle you. It was late, and the both of you were tired. Stu just wanted to lay with you in silence, appreciating your presence.

You didn’t feel like releasing your usual high energy at the moment. Right now, you just wanted to fall asleep on your boyfriend’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Michael Myers:

Girl

Michael does not appreciate your antics.

Annoying him is easy, but you would never know that.

He keeps his emotions very private, so when he is annoyed he’ll just stalk away from you.

He does not think you’re funny :(

He does enjoy your quiet moments. He likes to come home when your energy is low.

He’s usually covered in blood when this happens, so you clean him up without cracking a joke which he appreciates.

You’ll turn on a movie for the both of you, and Michael lets you cuddle up with him.

He does like you, he just doesn’t want you to know that...

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