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makriiii · 3 months

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Caught XIV (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 4.2k

Authors note: I AM SO SORRY GUYS, I KNOW I KEPT SAYING ID GET IT OUT BUT COLLEGE IS CRAZY

Special thanks to @iceman-kazansky! You're so sweet. I love the reposts, I hope you enjoy this one also! I know it was long awaited :)

Warnings: 18+, mentions of blood, swearing.

♡

Caught XIV

The camp was lit with voices and laughing around you whilst you sat unbothered on a log overlooking the lake you had so admired when you had first laid your eyes upon it.

The day had been one of your nicest yet. The Arthur had not been buzzing around for you only to have to swat away. No, rather it was peaceful.

You weren't being unattentive but the sound of soft footsteps still made you snap your head around to look at the person approaching.

The finest lady in camp. Dutch's favorite girl. The one you had no opinion on yet as most of the time neither of you looked each other's way. The way she appeared made it seem like she strayed away too far from her well to do family, but you couldn't tell if that was true or just what it looked to be.

Her skirt dressed the worn wood kindly as she sat with distance from you. Quite frankly you had not a clue on whether you should say something or leave her to her own but she decided for you.

"You're that other O'Driscoll, aren't you?" She questioned, her green eyes giving you only a second of grace before scanning the horizon of the lake.

It took you a moment, unsure of where she was going with this and distracted by the sudden sight of Arthur, who was making his way toward an idling Dutch on the shore of the lake, not too far from you. "Unfortunately."

Molly's eyes scan you up and down, a familiar look of disparage glinted in her gaze. "You seem close with Arthur." She stated outright rather bluntly.

Shaking off the stare she had given you and comprehending her bold words you replied in short, "I suppose it could look that way."

"I feel like you're trying something." Her irish accent shone through with her clearly disdained words.

It was an accusation not unaccustomed by yourself, and you weren't in the mood for more of it. "I have no power to propagandize that man. He's as stubborn as an ass."

It seemed if it wasn't Arthur, it was someone else. Would the O'Driscoll talk ever end? You felt as though you had proved yourself more than needed.

"Why haven't you and your sly little buddy left yet then?" Her interrogation had you slipping on your hat in preparation of departure.

"We're just looking out for our lives, miss. If it's not the law, then it's our former members." You made sure to emphasize the past tense. O'Driscoll's gang was certainly in the past for you, whether you wanted it or not.

With that, you got up and started walking away. Perhaps you'd take a trip to town, get away from camp for a while.

"I didn't say you could go?" She scolded with a bark of her voice.

Saying more could be bad, saying nothing could also be bad. So you chose silence, you didn't want trouble with Dutch's girl.

As you walked through camp with a stretch of your back, a hand stabbed at your ribs, a sensitive part that reminded you unfortunately, you were ticklish.

You hunched over with a gasp, your arms throwing themselves to your sides to defend from further attack. It was already evident who it was.

Dutch and Arthur strolled by you, Arthur with a slight smirk watching you. Dutch caught on and studied you for a second.

"Why don't you come along to fish, Mrs. O'driscoll? Arthur told me of your struggle last time." He chuckled after Arthur gave him a slight shake of his head, a warning to redact his offer.

Mrs. O'driscoll was a new one for sure. The nicknames seemed to come from a never ending stream of creativity you despised.

Was there any way that you could say no to Dutch? No was never to be said to Colm, and learning from that, you agreed. "Alright, as long as it delights Arthur."

"It does not particularly-" Arthur rumbles before he gets guided forward by an interrupting Dutch.

"Oh, he might jump out of his boots with excitement." He laughs with a pat to Arthur's back. Like father and son. It was cute, admittedly, to see notorious outlaws have such a bond.

Hosea was waiting for the pair, and now for you as he questioned your proximity to them. "She taggin' along as well?"

"She needs to see your flare with fishing, Hosea." Dutch proclaims with a grunt as he pulls himself up in his saddle.

"Alright, let me show you how its done then." With an aloof attitude and a nod, he leads the group out of camp.

The ride you had with the three of the men wasn't heavy with feelings of stress or worry on your part. Dutch spoke of the activities he wanted done down in this town, of the money the gang needed. It felt as though you were finally one of them.

Dutch was sure to tell you all that he wanted everyone to be on the down low. Just to snoop around for now. That was easy enough for you.

It wasn't long after you got close to the tracks that the quiet atmosphere of hooves and voices was filled with the thundering of a train.

"Looks like law up ahead." Dutch chimes, his words directing your eyes to the stopped caged carriage up ahead. "Play it cool."

You and Arthur exchange glances before he made his way from your left to your right. A barrier between you and the law for whatever reason.

"Hello gentlemen." Came a mellifluous voice from the metal bars, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Well!" Came a surprised chortle from Dutch. "Look what the cat drug in."

"Ive seemed to have gotten myself in a spot of bother." You hadn't caught it before but now the smooth accent of a brit plastered his words.

You had not a clue who this man was or how he knew the gang. It was only so long that you would find out however.

"Quiet back there." Grumbled the lawman from upfront, his fist hammering down on the metal to rattle the cage.

Dutch examined this for a moment, "lets see if we cant sort this out."

The small talk that commenced turned into the talk similar of a lawyer. Defending the "silly fancy fop." Clearly, he was important if this was worth the trouble.

The other imprisoned men in the back took Dutch's distraction and started picking at the lock, providing entertainment for you and Arthur who sat there watching.

Dutch didn't get finished before the man had the lock off and the creaky doors opening, the other three men following with no hesitation.

"Shit!" Exclaims the sheriff, his and his partners eyes wide as their captives latched onto the train now departing. "The Anderson boys! I cant have more scandal!"

"Allow us to help, my friend." Dutch offers, his gaze not waiting a moment longer to send you and Arthur off. "Arthur... y/n."

Arthur sighed, "chase wanted men?" He confirms, ushering you on with a glance.

"And-" he points to the lawman's partner, "take Archibald with ya."

You followed, your horse already springing into action, your adrenaline not short after that.

"Just what I signed up for..." Arthur clearly discontent with what he got to be volunteered for. "Come on, big guy."

He helped Archibald up on his horse and took off beside you and after the train. The sight of the men on the back of the train and your chasing brought you back to the very day that was the reason you were here now.

Archibald hollered from the back, encouraging you forward with jarring words. "Keep your guns holstered, we need them Anderson boys alive."

You clicked your tongue, pushing your mare forward, surprised at the speed in which the train was already traveling.

Archibald nagged again. "Come on hurry!"

His words were met with swift retort of displeasure from Arthur. "All right."

"Come on, we're losing them!"

"Will you relax? We're not losing 'em!"

"Faster, come on! What's your name, sir?" Archibald seemed to have a speed in mind that a horse would have trouble reaching with two riders on its back. "And how about you, lady?"

"Arthur. Arthur Callahan." Replied a grumpy Arthur. Although you didn't have much sympathy for him, it made you smile in the face of this situation.

"Y/n Callahan." Without a fake last name in mind, you copied Arthurs.

"Faster, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, please. My neck is on the line here!"

"I get it. We're doing our best." Arthur grunts. His eyes were trained on you, curious that you copied him.

The last of the four was dangling off the back of the train, struggling to pull himself up. His buddy fortunately came back for him.

"You sure I can't just shoot him?" Arthur asks, disregarding what he had been told moments earlier.

"No. Did I not say that?" Archibald scolds, watching the men escape further up the train.

"You've said plenty." Arthur was on his last straw and you appreciated the help from Archibald.

"So long deputies!" Came a man monkeying around on the roof of the final cart, teasing and whooping.

The water tower in the back posed a quickly approaching threat to the completely oblivious man who was but too quick to celebrate his victory.

You cringed back as the harsh smack of the back of his head met with funnel to the water tower. Your horse barely missing his body now knocked clean out on the tracks.

"Idiot. Now get after the others, come on!" He shouted at you and Arthur, keeping your minds trained on the ones who were conscious.

The train started slowing as it passed the big red building that was the station, which Archibald pointed out.

Your horses now were more of a match for the speed and you both came up alongside the train.

"You think you both can jump on there?"

"She can." Arthur outs you with non-existent hesitation. "But why me?"

"Because you ride like my grandmother!" Insisted Archibald, which would have you chuckling right in Arthur's face had you not been distracted.

One of the men started throwing bottles, one would've hit you if the man wasn't so bad at judging distance, the glass shattering in the distance that you covered quickly.

"Now he's throwing bottles. The lowdown bastard!" Archibald squealed, dodging one heading right for him.

You took the liberty of joining the Anderson boys on the train first as you were ahead of Arthur and Archibald. Arthur not mere moments fore he was behind you.

You caught your breath for a second, catching another bottle hurled at you while Arthur faced him head on.

The man atop the cargo on the train managed a good kick on Arthur who fell to the side. His neck quickly subject to the squeezing of the Anderson boy's hand.

"You bastard!" Screamed the man as he held onto Arthur with vigor.

You felt a strange sense of anger wash over you as you made for Arthurs aid, grabbing a good fistful of cloth and heaving the man off with Arthurs help.

"Thats it!" Came Archibalds encouragement from the side lines. In his hands were your horses reins. Kind of him, you thought, to bring your horse.

You helped Arthur up and both of you started for the rest of them, although admittedly, without a gun, you'd have to let Arthur do most of the strong arming.

"Come on, both of you! I'm relying on you guys!" Archibald was certainly one for constant reminding.

The sprinting on the train felt counter productive, it was certainly more work than just regular running.

Arthur made sure to be in front of you, he was like a big shield and ran surprisingly fast for how large he is.

"You hold it right there!" Arthur shouts at the other two men who were barely in sight ahead of you.

You had to jump atop the roof and Arthur, the gentleman that he is, helped none.

This normally would not have been a problem, but with your weak arm, it left you struggling.

Arthur had pushed through it despite his shoulder and was ready to go off and leave you but he didn't. He stood above you and held out his hand.

"Let's go, Mrs. Callahan." His face gave away the fact that he enjoyed this activity with you. Also by the fact he was picking on you again.

"I'm coming, grandmother." You were sure to tease back. His hand gripped yours and with the strength of not a grandmother, pulled you up with ease. He gave you a scoff before continuing on after the Andersons with you.

"Come on, shitbags!" Mocked one of the men from ahead. Jumping from cart to cart and down again to keep ahead of you both.

The second time you both needed to climb Arthur just grabbed you and heaved you up, his shoulder clearly bothered him as a pained grunt was heard from behind you.

Atop this car one of the men was right there, but your mind was on helping Arthur instead. As you gripped under his arms and pulled, footsteps pounded behind you.

The guy came right back around and started coming for you, which was not good. To say the least.

"You're the law?" He scoffs, your not so threatening appearance seemed to spur him on more. "We're runnin from you?" He hadn't seemed to notice that Arthur was also hot on his tail.

He was large and he was not letting up. His heavy footsteps thundering toward you shook the metal roof under you.

Your hand instinctively brushed the gun at your hip but Archibalds multiple requests lingered in your mind.

He was quick to be on you, throwing out your arms to brace yourself and push him away from you as his hands met your shoulders, trying to wrestle you off the train car entirely.

His strength was clear as you both struggled, your body wobbling closer and closer to the edge.

"Not so scary now, huh?" This man derides before his eyes widen at the friend you had in tow.

Arthur pulls him off and throws him to the ground, his back meeting the hard metal with a thud.

You take the chance to continue after the other, perhaps just threatening the man with your gun would do. You felt like you weren't being of much help, which hit you right in the gut.

"Damn bastard!" Hollers the man now at Arthurs mercy from behind you. "Get away from me!"

That was his final spew of nonsense before his consciousness loses itself to Arthur's fist.

Ahead was the final member of this gang that was in need of a catching. You had to jump down and get inside of the car he had slipped into.

The running came to a halt, the final cart being cold and the smell of fresh meat filled your nose. A particular pleasure that wasn't all that pleasurable.

"Quit runnin'. You ain't got much of a chance anyway, Anderson."

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do little lady?" He jeers from his cornered position at the front of the train cart.

"Don't worry your head about me. It's him." You point back to the man behind you. It wouldn't be like that had you been able to use your gun. It certainly felt strange being so powerless but not unfamiliar. Arthur always reminded you.

"Do we need to bother?" Arthur groans, rolling his shoulder with a wince.

"Let me go!" The man demands, his aggressive stomps closing the distance between him and Arthur.

"I can't do that." Arthur replies, holding up his fists. The man had a knife, which worried you slightly as you watched this fight ensue.

The sudden halting of the train threw all three of you forward suddenly, the man caught off guard, was doubly caught off guard by Arthur taking his chance to take him on.

They wrestled around, the sounds of fists hitting bodies were apparent. Despite Arthurs effort, the man kept getting closer to where you stood, which then had you counting your options on what to do if he changes his target.

His knife went clean through Arthurs forearm, who in turn gasped in pain. You wanted to do something, but getting in Arthurs way would do more harm than good.

He stumbled back from Arthur, his proximity to you no less than an arm length, it presented an opportunity. With your good arm and the back of your gun, you brought it down hard on the back of the man's head. Not enough to knock him out but enough for Arthur to.

You and Arthur stared at each other for a moment before hunching over to catch your breath. The spontaneity of this situation finally hit you and the realization made you laugh breathily. Arthur gave you a look before he couldn't help but give a small chuckle as well.

Motioning for his bleeding arm, you tear off the remaining cloth from his shirt and shape it into a decent enough improvised gauze.

"Can't fix my shirt now, I guess." Arthur observes the obvious but he didn't seem to be genuinely mad by the prospect of it.

"All this blood of yours ruined it already." You shake your head, tying the torn cloth gently around his arm gently.

"Suppose you're right." He admits, a conceded smile drawn on his face.

"That's how it always is." You tease, not being sure what to do with your hands now that they have blood on them. "At Least you got him."

"That's also how it always is." He repeats in a voice that sounded like it was suppose to be a mockery of yours.

"I expect no less from you, grandma dearest." You praise, even if it wasn't exactly that.

"Leave out grandma, please." He shakes his head, his laugh turning into a tired smile.

"Just dearest?" Your eyebrow raises with a teasing smirk.

"Just dearest." He confirms, meeting your eyes with an equal look on his face.

Despite him saying things like this before, you haven't found yourself any more prepared for it than the time previous. "If you're going to flirt, at least try."

"Okay then." He stands upright and as he gears himself up for the "flirting" a loud, galling voice comes from the outside of the cart.

"Hello? Is everything alright in there?" For the past minute, Archibald had vanished from your mind, only to return at an unsatisfactory time.

Arthur was audibly and visibly displeased as he reported back to the lawman, "well... I don't think he's dead... but I think we won the fight."

Arthur picked up the downed man, and Archibald pulled the door open to finally see what happened. "Bring him out here."

"Deputy." Arthur nods with a greet as you follow out behind him.

"Sounded like quite a commotion. Is that him?" The lawman examines the blonde Anderson to check.

"I sincerely hope so." Grumps Arthur. His temporary humor gone from just moments ago.

"Old Anders Anderson." Scoffs Archibald with a look of scorn.

That there was the head man, a surprise that he didn't have more in him. Though in all fairness, he got ganged up when you joined Arthur for a second.

You all mounted, following Archibald to where you needed to go take this man not unlike you and Arthur, to the can.

The ride basically amounted to nothing more than a tour from Archibald. He spoke of the Gray's and the Braithwaite's. One, a respectable family. The other, not so much.

Arthur kept glancing at you while you both listened to him talk about these families, their fortune and their feud. You both knew it sounded like something Dutch and Hosea would love to hear about.

The road brought you lot into town quickly, greeted by a fairly large saloon, sure to be mentioned was that it was owned by the Gray's. As most things were said to be in this town. Rhodes, so it was.

Hosea sat outside of the sheriff's office, greeting you all as you rode up and it wasn't long till Dutch barged out of the door behind Sheriff Gray.

"I told you Arthur would deliver, man has a passion for justice." Dutch exclaims behind the sheriff as he meets the rest of everyone back outside.

Sheriff Gray thanked you and Arthur for the help, setting Trelawny free from his imprisonment in return for the task you had completed.

All of this for a man you'd never met. Though as much as you thought about it, there was no regret. Running alongside Arthur and the two of you on that train together had been a surprising amount of fun.

Dutch and the Sheriff exchanged conversation for a short while before warning Dutch to keep Trelawny out of trouble.

Now quickly did you find that Trelawny was quite the talker.

"And you are?" He coo's with a slight bow and a hand shake.

"Y/n l/n." You nod, returning his hand shake.

"How lovely to meet you, Miss l/n." He kindly nods before spinning back around to lead the group of you.

Trelawny reiterated the story of the Gray's and Braithwaite's. Long standing feud, gold that was fought over, cousins marrying cousins or not marrying cousins. It was strangely interesting.

"I want you guys to check that out later." Dutch was sure to mention, directing it towards you, Hosea and Arthur.

Trelawny warned of all the talk, 500 miles around, north and south, "super agents" or sorts of that matter.

Dutch laughed with disbelief. "Super agents? All talk."

"Oh, no doubt." Trelawny agreed before turning back around to face all of you. His words were that of departure, which surprised you, having just met this man no less than five minutes ago.

Dutch shrugged when Hosea looked at him, even surprised, nodding a goodbye to Trelawny.

As your group of four made way back to your horses, Dutch brought up the rich families.

"Hosea, I want you to check out the Braithwaite's. Arthur, you and y/n sniff around the Gray's place."

You nodded your agreement and Arthur his. "Our friend Archibald showed us the Gray's place earlier." Told Arthur, recounting your recent ride.

Dutch and Hosea now chattered together up ahead, leaving you and Arthur to walk together behind them.

The two of you were so close together your shoulders brushed but neither of you seemed to care enough to make any distance.

"So who was that?" You ask Arthur curiously.

"Oh, Trelawny? A slippery con man of sorts. We've known him for a good while."

You hum your acknowledgement, "he's not a part of the gang?"

"He is. Just, that's why he's slippery. Doesnt stay nowhere too long."

You give it some thought. The man looked like a high fligher and in towns like this, spelled trouble. You had found that out before you had become particularly opinionated against the law.

You rubbed your sore arm, the scab formed around the wound was sure to leave a scar. It hurt everytime you prodded at it too much but admittedly it became a bad habit.

"How's your arm after that?" You guessed he was referring to the man you had scuffled with no less than an hour ago.

"It's not bad." You dismiss with a wave of your hand. "Your shoulder is more worrisome, that cut too. Think you should rest it for a while."

Arthur looked over at you with a subtle look of sarcastic shock. "Worried for me now, are ya?"

You bumped into him with your shoulder, your discontent frown unable to stay for long as a smile crept up on you.

As close as that man could get to giggling was what he was doing.

"Quite the fishin’ trip, huh?" Arthur proclaims ahead to Hosea and Dutch.

"The fish weren't so easy to catch neither." You sigh, tired from all that runnin you had to do.

"No, that they weren't." Dutch laughs in agreement, talking like the one who gladly had to do none of the fishing. "There's still time. I'm up for it."

"How about you two?" Hosea questions, looking you and Arthur up and down. "Or have you had enough of the chase for one day?"

Arthur meets your eye, seemingly checking if you'd want anything to do with it first.

"Pearson will need something for the soup." You agreed, pushing down the unsavory idea of handing over your catch for the stew Pearson would cook up.

"Yeah alright then." Arthur adds, agreeing with the rest. Hosea, happy with this, mounted his horse behind Dutch and Arthur.

Amongst the riding, Hosea and Dutch told stories of the past, ones involving Trelawny. Everyone in the group had a good laugh at these stories, and for this moment, you had not a care in the world. Not even the feeling of being an outcast haunted you as you and your fateful friends - perhaps, if you could call them that, made your way to your planned fishing trip.

----

So far, just a fishing trip is never actually "just" a fishing trip. Just a dangerous date.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #van der linde gang #rdr2arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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A Million Times More

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader Word Count: 1,689 Trigger Warnings: None, straight fluff. Summary: The reader and Dean make a pit stop on the way back from a hunt, will their true feelings finally be revealed? A/N: I needed some happy Dean. Requests are open!

Masterlist

The atmosphere inside the impala is relaxed and happy, uncommon after returning from a hunt. It had gone incredibly well, the closest to perfect that a hunt could really go. The radio is on full blast, Dean is singing his heart out to whatever classic rock song comes on next, his fingers drumming along on the steering wheel. It had been our first hunt just the two of us, Sam was sick and we had ganged up on him, making him hang back and rest.

“C’mon Y/N, sing with me!” Dean says, reaching over and pushing my knee playfully, the happiest I have seen him in a long while. I shake my head at him, a small laugh escaping my lips. But I join in, singing the words to the song on the radio. I roll down my window, and Dean follows my lead. The fresh warm air flowing over both of us. The smell of rain in the distance, but the air is crisp and clear all at the same time. Mingled with the smell of grass, dirt and a faint hint of smoke. Summer. My favorite. If someone could perfectly bottle this smell, I would buy all of it myself. I haven’t felt this relaxed and happy, since before I found out that demons, ghost and werewolves are real, many many years ago.

“Dean, pull into that park! I want to go walk around the lake!” I say, turning to look at him, the chance to get out and explore together an opportunity that rarely comes along. He chuckles, but obliges and slows the Impala to make the turn.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart.” He says, winking at me. I roll my eyes, but smile internally, his words spreading warmth through my body.

“Always the flirt, Deano.” I say back, a smile plastered across my face.

He parks in the loose gravel parking lot, I lean down to put my shoes back on and he walk around to my side of the car and opens my door. I look up at him, surprised at his action.

“Oh, a perfect gentleman now, are you?” I ask, accepting the hand he offers me and slide out of the Impala, he closes the door behind me.

“On occasion.” He replies, and Instead of releasing my hand, he keeps it held tightly in his own. A strange action coming from the green eyed hunter, but I don’t mind. Affection is far and few between when you live a hunter's life. I am not much of a one night stand person and I don’t dare drag someone else into this life for a relationship. So the only time I get physical touch is when I hug one of the boys. Or when Dean and I have to share a motel bed, or the back seat of the Impala. Not that I complain about those occurrences either.

The sun is bright, reflecting off the top of the calm lake surface. I squint, looking out into the body of water, pointing out a flock of ducks floating across the surface.

“Thank you for stopping,” I say, squeezing his hand lightly, “I needed an adventure, that didn’t include an exorcism.” He chuckles lightly, his steps matching mine as we follow the path along the lake.

“Of course, once you mentioned it I couldn’t think of anything I would rather do tonight.” He stops suddenly, bending down to grab something he had seen in the dirt. He releases my hand, an action that I try not to be too sad about. He shows me what he grabbed, a smooth, flat rock. I am confused at first, which must be evident in my facial expression because he is quick to show me his plan.

“Just watch.” He teased, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I haven’t done this since I was 10 or so.” He turns to face the lake, tossing the stone from his left hand to his right. He leans back slightly to the side and sends the rock flying towards the water. I expect it to sink, but he had the perfect angle and it skipped, five times across the surface of the water before sinking beneath the surface. He turns back to me, a cheeky smile turning up the corners of his mouth, reaching all the way to the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“And that sweetheart, is how you skip a rock.” I applaud his actions, a bit over the top but he enjoys it. He walks back to my side and is quick to hold my hand again. His fingers interlocking with my own, his grip firm but comfortable. I am distracted from the view of the lake by the feeling of his thumb, gently stroking the length of my index finger.

We walk in comfortable silence for awhile, the need for conversation nonexistent, simply enjoying the others company. The sun is setting slowly, nearing the surface of the lake. If I didn’t understand basic science it would be easy to believe that the lake was swallowing and extinguishing the sun. The sky is changing from blue to orange, pink streaked through as if a giant paint brush was dragging it across the sky. Before I know it, we had done the full loop of the car and wound up back at the impala. Dean begins to walk back towards the car but I hesitate, stopping suddenly. He stops and glances back at me, our hands still clasped together.

“Wait, not yet. Just a few more minutes?” I ask, raising my eyebrows and putting on my best puppy dog eyes. He chuckles softly, his lips raised at the corners and he rolls his eyes ever so slightly. He nods, and leans against the trunk of the Impala, pulling me into his embrace. My back against his chest, his hands locked around my waist and my hands resting on top of his own. I rest my head on his collarbone, angling my face toward the sinking sun. His chin is pressed gently against the side of my face, his five o clock shadow tickling my skin, but I don’t mind. I inhale deeply, taking in my surroundings and pleasantly overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne mixed with the night air. I shiver slightly from the gust of wind that comes out of nowhere, Dean notices and pulls me closer his breath hot against my skin.

“Do you ever wish for a normal life Dean? A life filled with sunsets, family and peaceful adventure?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper not wanting to break the tranquility of the moment. He hums, his chest vibrating against my back.

“Somedays, I do. It would be nice, not worrying about the end of humanity constantly.” He hesitates, his next words on the tip of his tongue, but he’s uncertain, I can hear it in his tone.

“What’re you thinking?” I ask, prompting him to continue, bringing my hands up to his own, clasped around my waist.

“I’m glad that I don’t have that normal life you mentioned, because If I did, I never would’ve met you when I saved your ass from that witch. Never would’ve gotten to see you laugh at Sam’s stupid dad jokes, or watch you gain confidence in your abilities. I never would’ve learned any of the pointless facts that you like to drop into every conversation possible.” I elbow him gently and he laughs as I turn around to face him, his face glowing in the light from the setting sun.

“I thought you loved those facts! I only look them up so I have something to tell you when you’re angry or upset.” I say, slightly concerned that I had been annoying him all along. He looks down at me, his green eyes locking with my own. He considers his next words carefully, taking the time to brush a strand of my hair out of my face.

“I do love those facts Y/N. I love everything about you.” He murmurs, one of his hands coming to rest on the small of my back, the other settling in the curve of my neck.

My heart is racing, surely beating out of my chest if it wasn’t for my ribcage keeping it firmly in place. I have dreamed of being this close to Dean, a fact that I would never admit out loud. The feelings that I have had for him all these years, never leaving my innermost thoughts. “There’s one reason, above all of those that I am glad that I have the life that I do. If I had never met you sweetheart, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He says, his voice dropping to a whisper as he uses the hand cupping my neck to pull me closer to him. He leans down and presses his lips to my own, in the most meaningful kiss I have ever had. His presence consumes me, all of my senses occupied by him. He’s all I can see, hear, taste, smell and feel. I never want this moment to end, I could spend eternity in this mans arms. His lips on my own, all consumed. He strokes the small of my back with his fingertips, pulling me closer than I ever imagined possible. Our bodies fit together like a puzzle, shaped and molded for the other. He pulls away, resting his forehead on my own. Our breathing matches, rushed and heavy.

“Dean, I-“ He stops me with his lips once more, the gentlest kiss known to mankind and it melts me further. “I love you, Y/N. I would live this life a million times more if it meant I got to kiss you again.” He says, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks.

“I love you, too, Dean.” It was in this moment I realized something. It was all worth it, the pain and sorrow, the anguish of losing those you loved, all of it. Every hunt, every late night drive. I never want it to end, as long as I have him by my side.

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underthenightskydreamsneverdie · 1 year

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Fanfic Masterlist

I write for Hogwarts Legacy and Criminal Minds

Explicit sexual content -🌶️ Fluff -🌸 Angst -❤️‍🩹

Hogwarts Legacy:

Hate that I now have to add that all characters have been aged up. If you are a minor, get the fuck out, this is not the place for you.

Sharing is Caring stories in order:

Everyone Has Needs - Ominis makes time to take care of himself 🌶️

Sharing is Caring - Ominis has an issue with Sebastian and f!MC. When Sebastian finds out what the problem is he talks with MC, wishing they could help Ominis Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️❤️‍🩹

Sharing is Caring chapter 2 - After a bit of denial the trio have a threesome Sebastian x f!MC x Ominis 🌶️❤️‍🩹🌸

Sharing is Caring chapter 3 - The trio work to get Ominis out of an arranged marriage Sebastian x f!MC, Sebastian x f!MC x Ominis 🌶️❤️‍🩹

Sharing is Caring chapter 4 - A member of the HL gang finds out the trios secret 🌸❤️‍🩹

Other Sharing is Caring stories:

We’re All Winners Here (aka untitled Quidditch story) - Sebastian and Ominis cheer on their girl 🌸

Precious Moments - Ominis uses Polyjuice potion to witness special moments with Sebastian and f!MC 🌸

Oneshots/Other writings: (Most of these can fit into SiC before Everyone has Needs, but they can also be read as stand alone pieces!)

A Snack by the Lake - Sebastian gets a special snack from MC during a picnic Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️

A Snack by the Lake, Part 2 - MC gets a special snack from Sebastian during their picnic Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️

A Snack by the Lake, Part 3 - Sebastian and MC have a nice ending to their picnic Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️

The Green Imposter - Sebastian finds something interesting in MCs nightstand and puts it to good use Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️

Is That What You Want? - After a few drink and a day full of teasing, Sebastian gives MC exactly what she wants Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️

Little Wolf - After taking out an Ashwinder camp, Sebastian and MC have some feral sex in the woods. Sebastian x f!MC 🌶️

Daddy - The first time MC calls Sebastian Daddy and the first time he calls himself Daddy Sebastain x f!MC 🌶️🌸

Worth the Wait - Sebastian and f!MC have a sweet first time together (Not SiC related) 🌶️

Naughty Escapades and a Wily Temptress - Sebastian and MC make a deal to wait until after taking their NEWTs to have sex, but MC can’t stop teasing him (Not SiC related) 🌶️ Sebastian x f!MC

Ask and Headcannons:

Sebastian and Ominis kinks

Sebastian and Ominis favorite positions/if they prefer head or penetration

Sebastian and Ominis how loud they are/their dirty talk

Sebastian and Ominis what their first times with f!MC are like

How the trio became a throuple

Ghost on the Shore - Sebastian Sallow HC 🌸

Daddy Dom Sebastian (Not SiC related)

The start of Sebinis from Sebastians POV

Ominis knows nothing about girls and Sebastian is totally wiling to teach him (Not SiC related)

Sebastian and Ominis as Doms and Subs

How Sebastian and Ominis react to MC dancing with another guy at the Yule Ball 🌸

Life after Hogwarts with Sebastian and Ominis 🌸

Hogwarts Legacy Character Reactions:

HLC react to MC asking them to have a threesome 🌸

HLC react to MC taking them to a sex shop to pick out new toys and lingerie

HL boys pick out lingerie for f!MC

HL girls pick out lingerie for f!MC and she picks some out for them

HLC react to being allowed to touch MCs face for the first time 🌸

HLC react to you flinching when they try to touch you for the first time 🌸

Criminal Minds :

Oneshots: Starving - Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, calls you into his office for an unexpected reason Aaron Hotchner x f!bau!reader 🌶️

Headcannons: Hotch loves to buy his lover fancy lingerie

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taschamonnii · 6 months

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Take My Breath Away

Clextober23 Day 3 Annual Fall Festival

Here is the title song: Take My Breath Away (WLW)

SMUT 18+

Just a lil Meet-Cute that gets a little Spicy and ends in…

Clexa X Harlivy

Clarke is dressed up as Harley Quinn

Lexa is dressed up as Poison Ivy

(If you haven’t watched Harley Quinn the Animated 2019 Series you MUST! It’s sooo good the gays win in it! Harlivy stan!)

Read On Ao3

Word Count: 6,363

It's October Clarke Griffin's favorite month not only because it's her birthday month but because it's Halloween! Clarke has always loved Halloween. Her friends Raven and Octavia know that October is peak Party Griffin season and know she won't turn down a chance to dress up. Luckily there are tons of festivals and parties and clubs to attend. Clarke is full of excitement there is something in the air she just knows this will be a great October and she can’t wait to wear her Harley Quinn costume. She is an artist for the cartoon series and absolutely loves Harlivy and the show really favors them as well. Kaley Cuoco and Lake Bell play Harley and Ivy perfectly and she just loves how much they also love the relationship. She truly loves her job as an artist on the show and for the series-related comics. She has always loved the characters since 1993 when they first interacted on Batman the Animated Series. She loved comic books and animation as a kid and drawing those characters was her favorite thing to do as a kid and now she gets paid to do it.

Lexa Woods is not a people person in fact she kind of hates most people. She thinks holidays are the worst because they all encourage wasteful consumerism. Her sister Anya, however, loves to party and refuses to let Lexa be a grump at home. The persuasion was difficult but Anya is a pro and told Lexa she could even dress up as one of her favorite nerdy comic book characters. Little did Anya know Lexa would pick a character that is basically just a green version of Lexa’s nerdy self. Lexa chose her career because of Poison Ivy. She got into Environmental Biology solely because of the 1993 animated series. Watching Poison Ivy be brilliant while being this untouchable goddess well it was everything Lexa wanted to be as a kid. Not to mention the Harley Ivy episode which made her realize she was so incredibly gay. Now as an adult, her inner child is happier than ever. There is a GAY animated series dedicated to Harlivy and comic series and she is actually helping the environment the way she always dreamed. Obviously, she had to dress up as Poison Ivy.

>>>>

The Spooktacular Arkadia Festival is always fun but always crowded even on off days. The gang is navigating the crowd with ease though since this is their favorite event they know all the tricks to have the best time and experience everything the festival has to offer. The gang's all dressed up in DC characters to support Clarke's work and because they actually love the show! Raven is dressed as Bane which is no surprise to anyone since she “Loves Sploshions!” Of course, she has adjusted his costume slightly instead of a mask she painted her face. Octavia convinced her boyfriend that they are alternate reality Cat Woman and Bruce Wane/Batman where their races are reversed. Jasper and Monty are the Riddler and Clock King. Murphy is Clayface. Nathan is King Shark. As a group, they look amazingly nerdy and have been receiving compliments all night. Some people even recognized Clarke as an artist for the show and asked for her signature. They have gone through all the haunted houses and played all the games. Ate and drank everything pumpkin flavored and is currently headed for the haunted corn maze since the sun has finally set.

The maze is huge and full of creepy surprises around every corner. As the group gets farther into the dark maze the sounds of the festival become distanced and muted. The eerie sound of the wind through the corn stalks and distant screams surround the group. The calm before the storm.

“BOOM!”

A loud crash of metal trash cans falling in their path has the groups scrambling and running from the “monsters”. It’s all fun and games until Raven sets off a smoke bomb making it impossible to see. The group gets separated as they cough and attempt to escape the chaos. Raven ends up with Octavia and Lincoln while Monty, Jasper, Nathan, and Murphy flee back the way they came in leaving Clarke alone in the dark maze. She doesn’t scare easily but it's definitely not as fun alone. She curses Raven under her breath; she should have known to check the Latina’s pockets before leaving Octavia’s house.

Clarke decides she will outsmart all of the scare traps and sneak around rustling the corn to scare other groups. She is lurking around when she sees a woman standing alone looking down at her phone.

Bright red hair is illuminated by the blue light of her phone screen. Clarke can’t help but soak in every detail of the woman in front of her. Well as best as she can in the dim lighting. Green tights with elaborate vines stitched up the sides making long legs seem like they go on forever. Black Doc Marines give the woman some height making her taller than Clarke by just the right amount that Clarke's thoughts drift to how perfectly her head could rest on the woman's shoulder. She shakes her head trying not to lose herself but it has just been forever since she’s felt any kind of way about anyone let alone a stranger, a beautiful stranger. The black jacket the woman wears hugs her thin but toned frame perfectly and Clarke doesn’t miss the tiny details of stitched green stripes. This woman is perfectly dressed as her Ivy. Clarke can’t help herself and takes a few steps forward, the hay on the ground crunching beneath her makes the other woman fully turn to face her.

Wow is all Clarke can think of as she takes in the jawline of the woman and her delicate features. Her eyes she thinks may be a gray color but it’s too dark to tell. All Clarke knows is this woman is absolutely stunning and she can’t stop staring. Luckily it seems the woman is also awe-struck by Clarke.

Lexa is shocked and stunned beyond belief. When she heard footsteps she had been hoping it was Anya. Never in her life was she so grateful that it wasn’t her sister. It took her maybe a second to recognize the woman in front of her. Lexa thought she must be dreaming. There was no way Clarke Griffin, one of her favorite illustrators, was standing in front of her in the middle of a corn maze. Not only standing there but staring at Lexa like she was a work of art or something. All while dressed up as her favorite version of Harley Quinn. The red and black Converse and knee-high socks. The incredibly short black and red shorts hugged thick muscular thighs. The cropped tight red and black top presented ample cleavage in the most incredible way. Her makeup was done with the classic blue eyeshadow on one lid and pink on the other to match the dyed ends of her pigtails one pink and one blue. She looked incredible. It truly didn’t help that Lexa already had a deep appreciation for Clarke Griffin the artist and Harley Quinn the character. The combination in front of her was everything and if she wanted to believe in love at first sight this would be it for her.

Somehow Lexa seemed to pull herself out of her head and use her words. Unfortunately, her words were just as embarrassing as her staring. “Wow, you’re Clarke Griffin! You’re even prettier in real life-oh my god-not that you are not pretty in photos and videos! Not in a creepy way, I'm a fan of your art! Oh my god LEXA shut up!”

Lexa managed to stop rambling for a second just long enough for an amused Clarke to smile at her. “Lexa, was it?”

Lexa nodded. Clarke smiled wider “Lexa, take a deep breath you are as red as your hair.”

Lexa nodded once more and gave Clarke a shy smile that made it hard for Clarke to focus on anything other than the other woman's plump lips. Lexa took a deep breath and decided to attempt to salvage the situation. “I’m sorry. Gawd I just talked at you. I am so sorry.”

Clarke smirked “I thought it was kind of cute, actually. The costume suits your body and your personality it seems.”

Lexa could feel the heat rise on her cheeks all the way to her ears. DID CLARKE GRIFFIN JUST FLIRT WITH HER! Pull it together!

Lexa bit her bottom lip as she let her gaze travel Clarke’s body down and then back up to meet intense blue eyes. “Your costume seems to fit you perfectly as well.”

Clarke tilted her head with a grin. “Is Poison Ivy flirtin’ with lil old me, Harley Quinn?”

Clarke teased trying her best to mimic the character's voice. Lexa swallowed hard this woman might be the death of her. Lexa took a step closer now standing toe to toe. Only a few inches between them “Maybe I am.” Lexa Husked.

Clarke’s knees buckled but before she could trip Lexa reached out grabbing both her hands in hers.

Something was in the air, a sort of magical feeling like this was destiny or fate that they just happened to meet here and now like this. There was a magnetic pull between them that they could both feel. There was no denying the attraction it was written all over their faces. It filled the air around them with an eclectic buzz.

Clarke leaned up and Lexa leaned down. Their lips brushed with a tingling spark in a soft kiss. Lexa moved her hands to wrap around Clarke’s waist to pull her flush against her as she sucked on Clarke’s bottom lip lightly. Clarke tangled her hands in thick red hair as she matched Lexa’s lips and melted into their bodies being flush against each other.

The feel of Lexa's warm soft hands caressing the skin of her lower back made her dizzy. Clarke forgot where they were and that this woman was basically a stranger. But this felt too right to care. Clarke licked at Lexa’s bottom lip and Lexa met her with her own tongue making Clarke let out a soft hum of a moan. She tugged harder on red hair. She needed more of this woman.

They both needed so much more.

"BOOM!"

They both jumped at the sound and looked around while holding each other. Lights flashed in the row over and screams followed.

The moment seemed to bring them back to reality. "We should probably get out of this maze," Lexa said.

Clarke nodded in agreement "I lost my friends because my idiot best friend set off a smoke bomb."

"That was your friend? I lost my sister because of the smoke."

"Yeah, Raven is really into explosions. She's actually dressed as Bane and my friends are all dressed as DC characters."

"That is amazing! I'd love to meet them. I'm a huge fan of the show. I've loved Harley and Ivy since I was a kid."

"They will love your costume. Me too, was it the 1993 animated series for you too?"

"Of course! It was so gay without being gay!" Lexa said happily.

"Ugh, I know right? I'm so happy Harlivy is a real thing now!"

“Right it has taken ages of teasing the couple for it to actually fully happen and your show does it so well! For once the problem in the queer relationship isn’t homophobia it’s that they are both troubled and complex characters. I love the way they are not perfect but constantly strive to be the best versions of themselves for the other and how much love they have for each other. I’m sorry I’m rambling. I just love the show, and your art is incredible!”

Clarke couldn’t contain her smile, the conversation was light and natural and she honestly didn’t want to stop talking to this woman. Lexa seemed to feel the same if her excitement for the conversation was any indication.

Fuck Lexa was adorable when she rambled and it took everything in Clarke not to pull at the collar of the woman's jacket and crash their lips together once more. “Don’t apologize. I love seeing people love the show as much as I do. Plus, you are really cute when you ramble.”

The blush that crept up Lexa’s neck was priceless. Clarke really couldn’t help herself now. She grabbed the collar of Lexa’s jacket and quickly pulled her down into a kiss. Their lips fit so damn perfectly. Clarke didn't let it last; she couldn't start something here. "Let's get out of here."

Lexa blinked as Clarke straightened her jacket and released it. Lexa was in awe of this woman. She quickly took Clarke’s hand making the blonde glance at their joined hands. Her blue eyes were light when her gaze traveled back to meet Lexa’s. The smiles that took over both of their faces as Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand and interlaced their fingers could have lit the entire cornfield if this was a cartoon.

Lexa reached into her pocket for her phone and pulled up Google Maps again. Clarke took Lexa’s phone in her free hand. “This is cheating, Lexa.” She teased.

“No. Hey! What are you-” Clarke interrupted her “I’m texting myself so I don’t lose you if we get separated.”

Clarke closed Google Maps and observed the background with a smile finding Harlivy art. She recognized the picture, the two characters were lying in some greenery holding hands and lovingly gazing at each other. Lexa could not get any more adorable. She quickly opened the text app and typed in her number and typed a message to herself. She hit send and pulled maps back up then handed the phone back.

Lexa looked at the map and then around “This way looks fastest.”

“Lead the way, Red.”

Lexa laughed, “This is not my natural color.”

“No! You’re telling me you don’t have fire truck red hair, naturally?”

Lexa bumped her shoulder against Clarke’s laughing lightly as she said, “fuck you.”

“Buy me a drink first.”

“Okay, what are you drinking?” Lexa said, tugging Clarke faster towards the exit of the maze.

Clarke couldn’t stop her laughter if she tried. They made it out of the maze faster than Clarke thought was possible and wow was it attractive to watch a determined Lexa lead the way. Lexa led them to one of the drink stands and Clarke smiled. “What would you like to drink?”

“I was joking, Lexa. You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

Lexa smiled dorkily. “I know but I want to even if it’s just a drink and conversation.”

“You are something else. Seriously, how are you so cute and sexy at the same time?”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

“I bet you are.” Clarke bit her bottom lip, unable to stop her mind from wandering to naughty places.

“What can I get you ladies?” The cashier interrupted their silent eye contact.

Lexa broke eye contact first smiling at the guy behind the counter. “Oh hi, um can I get the Pumpkin Spooktacular dark brew, please? And whatever this beautiful woman-” Clarke interrupted Lexa softly, “I’ll have the same thing.”

Lexa smiled at Clarke then looked back at the guy as he asked “Anything else?”

She looked back to Clake who shook her head. “That’s it, thanks.”

Lexa paid and they got their adorable pumpkin-flavored coffees and found an empty table under one of the trees that was decorated with sparking lights. Lexa is quick to pull out Clarke’s chair and then sit next to her. Clarke can’t handle how Lexa is treating her. It has been far too long since she's even just had a one-night stand let alone been on a date and this feels like a date. No, it felt like more than just a date. It felt like they were already girlfriends and this was just a cute Saturday date night. It all just felt so comfy, familiar, and right. She felt like she could get used to this. She sipped her coffee and sighed at the warmth and tasted happy she got something warm. The cool night air was starting to get to her exposed skin.

Lexa watched Clarke trying to soak in the comfortable feelings of ease the blonde gave her. She honestly felt like she must be dreaming. There was no way this was her life. Clarke Griffin is sitting across from her happily sipping on a pumpkin-flavored coffee. Face illuminated by the twinkling lights that seemed to make blue eyes sparkle. She was in awe of the woman before her.

Clarke held her drink in both hands and had been glancing around but she felt eyes on her and smiled when her gaze met intense green orbs. Wow was all she could think. She had never seen green eyes like Lexa’s before. They are the kind of green that changes hues in different lighting and, gawd the twinkle lights made them shine like the sun on a lake the reflection of lush green trees surrounding the water. Clarke couldn't stop the shiver that ran up her spine.

“Are you cold?”

Clarke cleared her thoughts as she returned to earth. “Oh, uhm, a little but this is helping. Thank you.”

“It’s colder than I thought it was going to be and I’m wearing more clothes than you here.”

Lexa got up removed her jacket and draped it over Clarke’’s shoulders.

Clarke despite herself sunk into the warmth the jacket offered and the sweet woodsy scent that was so very Lexa. She couldn’t help her smile even as she said. “I can’t take your jacket.”

Lexa could almost melt seeing the beautiful woman melt into her jacket and smile at her. “It looks good on you.”

“Not as good as you.”

Clarke flushed as Lexa peered down at her from her standing position. She knows the angle gives Lexa a perfect view of her boobs. Lexa doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s staring. Clarke is definitely warm now.

Lexa forces her gaze back up to meet those mesmerizing blue orbs. “You are so beautiful, Clarke.”

Clarke is a fairly confident woman who has grown to love her curves and womanly figure but Lexa is all lean fit muscle with delicate yet sharp facial features. Clarke is pretty sure Lexa is the most gorgeous woman she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Hearing Lexa so genuinely compliment her is too much. She grabs the hand that still lingers on her shoulder and pulls lightly. Luckily Lexa gets the hint and leans down to kiss Clarke. It feels far too intimate but also so natural. They keep it short and Lexa returns to her seat. Clarke grabs the chair and scoots Lexa to be tucked in closer to her and leans into the warmth and comfort. They observe the crowd in a comfortable silence watching teenagers scream and laugh. Observing awkward first dates and seeing families smile for pictures. The atmosphere is something out of a Hallmark movie. It’s the cheesy annual Halloween Festival regardless of how cheesy it all is Clarke and Lexa soak up every last bit of it. They have some casual conversation and sip their delicious drinks before a loud group is heard calling their names. Clarke looks around to see her friends wandering about looking for her. Clarke looks back to Lexa “I take it that is your sister walking with her arm over my friend Raven's shoulder.”

Lexa glances over to the group and smiles “Wow, you weren’t kidding all your friends are dressed as DC characters! They look awesome!”

“I don’t joke about my friends' enthusiasm.” Clarke Laughed.

“That’s my sister alright, it seems Anya has her sight set on your friend. Wait, that's my cousin Lincoln with the short brunette.”

“Raven looks like a smitten kitten! Damn, how are all the people in your family so attractive?”

Lexa snorts out a laugh that is downright adorable. It makes Clarke want to keep her forever.

The group hasn’t noticed them yet and Raven keeps yelling both their names. “Should we run and hide or?” Clarke teased.

“You can have me all to yourself later, Clarke.”

Fucking hell Clarke really loves the way Lexa says her name. Clarke licks and then bites her bottom lips softly. Dropping her voice an octave to whisper huskily, “You promise?”

Lexa swallows the lump in her suddenly dry throat. “If you want. I will follow you anywhere.”

Lexa has never been more confident in her feelings towards another. She thinks maybe she was always meant to find and love this woman. Clarke seems to be feeling something similar with the way she’s visibly swooning. Clarke leans in close to Lexa and softly presses their foreheads together, their lips are almost touching. “Damn, you’re going to be the death of me.” Clarke husked.

Before Clarke could say or do anything else Lexa closed the space between them softly capturing a top lip right where that adorable beauty mark is. Clarke automatically melted into the kiss sucking lightly on Lexa’s plump bottom lip. Hands tangled into thick red hair. While slender fingers rested on pale thighs.

To anyone who didn’t know they would assume the two were a long-time couple. Unfortunately, the people who noticed were all too aware that the two were not dating. Raven whistled at them as the rest of the group cheered. The loud group made them part from their kiss but Clarke tugged lightly at the curls on the back of Lexa’s neck. “You better keep your promise.”

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s thigh “I never break a promise.”

The two detangled from each other just in time for the group to get to them. Anya is the first to say something “You ditched me in the maze to make out with a girl?”

“I didn’t ditch you. I lost you in the smoke.” Lexa turned to Raven “Thanks for that by the way, Raven.”

Raven smirked, “I see Clarke has told you about her awesome step-sister/mom!”

“Oh my god Raven shut up you can’t be my step-sister and stepmom!”

“I can’t help the fact your mom is hot Griffin.”

“Oh you have a thing for older women do you?” Anya lifted her brow at Raven.

“Uh yeah, have you seen yourself!” Raven smirked.

“Raven cut it out, we haven't even properly met Lexa yet.” Octavia tried.

Raven rolled her eyes at her friend. “Your boyfriend's cousins are going to have to learn how to deal with this madness if they want to be part of the group.”

Lexa and Lincoln waved to each other silently observing the friends. Octavia rolled her eyes right back “Just because Anya seems to like you doesn’t mean you get to act insane.”

“Oh, you like me, cheekbones?”

“I never said that.”

“But you didn’t not say it either.”

Nathan spoke up “Can we be introduced so we can continue the fun?”

Clarke smiled at Nathan and grabbed Lexa’s hand. She stood up leading Lexa to stand next to her “Everyone this is Lexa!”

Lexa waved “Hi!”

“You know Raven now and your cousin's girlfriend is Octavia.”

Both girls waved at Lexa. “You can call me O. Everyone does.”

“Nice to finally meet you O. I have heard a lot about you. My cousin is mad about you.”

Clarke pointed at the two guys holding hands, “That's Jasper and Monty.” She pointed to the other two, “That's Nathan and that's Murphy.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. I love the costumes!”

The group all greeted Lexa with open arms appreciating her costume and nerding out with her about the show and characters. It made Clarke dizzy with what she could only call affection for the woman. She fit in so perfectly! Honestly Lincoln and Anya seemed to fit in as well and something about it all just seemed like it was written in the stars. The whole group seemed to feel it too.

The night air was crisp, the company was perfect, and the place was everything. The last activity was always the group's favorite. They reserved a private firepit and always got the s'mores package deal. This year they reserved early enough to get a lake-side pit and it was worth every cent.

The firepit was lit for them by an employee and they gathered around the cozy fire. The light illuminated the shore. Clarke pulled Lexa over to one of the benches and gave her back her jacket. “It looks so much better on you and really completes your outfit.”

“I will only take this back if you let me keep you warm.”

“Oh, that was the plan, Lex.”

Clarke snuggles into Lexa grabbing her arm to drape around her. They shared s’mores and laughs and the best conversations. The group took a bunch of pictures and before they knew it the night was coming to an end. The witching hour had come and it was time to go but Lexa and Clarke didn’t want the night to end here. The group split off into their different cars. No one was surprised to see Anya and Raven leave together and so no one even questioned when Clarke left with Lexa.

The drive to Lexa’s was filled with an electric anticipation in the air. They both felt it. Lexa drove faster than usual but was still careful. Lexa placed a hand lightly on Clarke's thigh. It was too much and not enough for Clarke so she slid her hands around Lexa’s and held it in her lap. It’s comfy, familiar even but more than that it’s electric.

They arrived at Lexa’s apartment complex and only disconnected long enough for Lexa to get out and walk around to Clarke’s door. She opened it and offered Clarke her hand which Clarke happily took.

They walked close, fingers interlaced and locked. The elevator ride up was silent but again so comfortable and normal. Lexa led the way unlocking her door and ushering them both inside. She shut and locked the door behind them, never letting go of Clarke’s hand. Clarke stayed basically attached to Lexa’s side as she took in the spacious open apartment. Lexa squeezed her hand “Well this is basically it. Would you like some water?”

“It’s beautiful. Yes, please.”

Lexa guided them into the open kitchen. She turned to face Clarke fully. She was going to ask her something else but was distracted by those eyes and then by the slightest movement just a few inches lower. She watched helplessly as Clarke licked her lips and then she snapped her gaze back up to meet dilated pupils. Lexa couldn't help but lick her own lips and Clarke noticed right away.

Clarke is quick to pull Lexa in and kiss those ridiculously soft lips. Her hands tangle into Lexa’s hair and Lexa finds her balance by holding Clarke’s hips. She presses the blonde into the counter of the island and it makes them both groan. Lexa moves her hands lower and hooks them around soft thighs. She lifts the blonde with ease and sets her on the countertop. A sound escapes Clarke that is delicious and Lexa is desperate to hear more. The cool stone under Clarke does nothing to ease the heat surging through her entire body.

Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa and pulls her flush against her. She pulls strong shoulders to get those lips back on hers. They moan into the kiss as their bodies are tightly fitted together. Lexa’s hands are on silky thighs massaging the firm muscles there. Clarke can’t help but move her hips in a sad attempt to get friction but they are so tightly pressed she can barely move. It fills her with need and she pulls off Lexa’s jacket then her shirt then her bra. Lexa quickly catches up unclasping the tight top that somehow supports Clarke’s ample breasts. She pulls the straps down slowly and moves her kisses to follow as more silky smooth skin gets revealed. Clarke throws her head back in a moan when lips ghost down her neck and collar bones and teeth scrape the soft sensitive skin. “You smell so good, can I taste you?”

“Please!”

“I like that word on your lips.”

“Fuck please, Lexa!”

“Oh, that’s even better. Fuck Clarke say my name again.”

“Lexa!”

Clarke didn’t expect the brunette to be so talkative but fuck if it wasn’t making her so much wetter than she’d ever been before from someone just talking. Lexa trails her tongue down Clarke’s neck stopping at the crook and sucking lightly. “You taste so good.”

“Fuck Lexa!”

“Can I kiss your breasts?”

“Gawd yes!”

Clarke arches her back pushing her exposed chest out. Lexa kisses down the center and palms both full breasts in her hands. They fit perfectly and feel gloriously heavy in her slender hands.

She runs her thumbs over stiff nipples making them stiffer. She kisses around each one and then finally wraps her lips around a stiff bud and lightly runs her tongue over it. She pinches the other as she begins to suck and bite the nipple in her mouth. She moans at the taste and Clarke moans at the feeling. Images of that mouth and tongue lower make her clit throb. Lexa is lost devouring Clarke’s beautiful breasts. Until she feels Clarke leaning back. She reluctantly detached herself from Clarke’s chest to look at her worried she did something wrong. “Are you okay?”

Clarke stops and grabs Lexa’s face “More than okay. I just need these off.”

She moved her hands to her shorts. Lexa bit her bottom lip “I need those off too, here lay back.”

Lexa guided Clarke to lie on the cool stone; it made Clarke shiver and that caused her breasts to bounce. Lexa is so thankful for gravity. Green eyes are intense as her gaze rolls down. Lexa hooks her fingers into the waistband of tight shorts and pulls them down. She takes a deep shuddered breath when she discovers nothing underneath but slick wet skin. “Oh wow, Clarke!”

“It’s all because of you.”

“Mmm in that case is it all mine to taste?”

Clarke whimpers at the thought of the deep raspy neediness of Lexa’s voice. “Fuck, Lexa yes.”

Lexa quickly lowers herself and wastes no time. Her lips press against Clarke’s clit and she is instantly addicted to the taste and rushes to get more enthusiastically licking and sucking. She can’t get enough; she explores and makes some of the most vulgar sounds as she fully loses herself in the taste and feel.

“Fuck! Lexa OH! Slow down. You’re going to make me cum AH!”

Lexa doesn’t ease up, Clarke's words encourage her.

Lexa hums and then whispers hotly “You taste so good, Clarke.”

The combination of heated breath and vibrations has Clarke trembling. “Mmm So, Fucking, Good.”

Lexa latches on with more pressure sucking and it sends Clarke barreling over the edge. “IM CU UH AH AH FUCK Oh FUCK LEXA!”

Lexa doesn’t let up as Clarke’s legs tremble forcing Clarke to pull her up by her hair. “Jesus Lexa!”

“I can’t help it, Clarke. I could do that all day. I love your pussy.”

“I love your tongue but fuck I need to feel and taste you too.”

Clarke sits up and wraps her arms around Lexa and Lexa follows along wrapping her arms around Clarke. She picks her up, almost losing her mind at how wet pussy presses against her abs as her legs wrap around her tightly. She takes them to her bedroom. She lays Clarke down but the blonde keeps her locked in her embrace pulling Lexa down on top of her. She flips them over and straddles Lexa’s hips. “You are far too dressed.”

Clarke moves to stand and pulls Lexa’s Leggings off. She licks and bites her lip when her gaze falls to the little green lace that is soaked through. She takes a shaky breath “Ffuuck, Lex.”

She is quick to remove the lace and even quicker to kiss up long smooth legs. “Gawd your legs!”

Clarke bites and sucks at inner thighs coaxing whimpers from the woman below her. “I love the little sounds you're making. Be louder for me.”

She moved her kisses up and sank into the taste of Lexa. She had never tasted anyone so divine. Lexa moaned louder as Clarke explored. “Fuck! Clarke!”

Clarke hummed against her and repeated the actions that had Lexa unraveling underneath her. She quickly found the right pressure to make long legs tremble and relentlessly repeated it until Lexa arched off the bed “Oh Fuck! Oh MY FuCkInG CLARKE! YES!”

Clarke couldn’t get enough and Lexa had to tug her up by the hair just like she had done earlier to her. Clarke happily laid over Lexa pressing their bodies together. They both moved in for a kiss and moaned at the combined taste. Their bodies were far from sated; they needed more. More of each other. More of this moment. More.

Clarke moved her legs to slot with Lexa's. Lexa adjusted and pressed her thigh up between Clarke's legs. She moaned at the feel of just how wet Clarke was. "You like this? Do you feel how wet I am? I'm dripping down your thigh."

"I love it! Gawd Clarke, it's so hot."

Clarke moved her thigh to press against Lexa and sighed out a shaky breath. "Fuck Lex."

Clarke held herself up slightly to look down between them. "You're so fucking wet! Can I?"

She adjusted her position and hovered her own pussy just above Lexa's. Lexa looked down and swallowed hard. "Please!"

Lexa grabbed Clarke's hips and pulled her down. They both moaned at the contact. Their hips moved slowly. Slick filthy wet noise filled the room. "Fuck Lexa! Can you cum like this?"

"I could cum just watching you, Clarke."

Clarke smirked as she pressed into Lexa. "It's my boobs, isn't it? I knew you were a boob girl."

"I mean you have gorgeous breasts but Clarke it's all of you."

Lexa's gaze traveled over every inch of Clarke's body. Green landed on deep blue and they stayed locked. Lexa bucked her hips up slowly. Clarke matched her movements. "It's all of you too, Lexa. Gawd I think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!"

Their hips bucked harder. "Fuck, Clarke!"

"Yes faster!"

Hips bucked, breasts bounced, skin glistened. It was just enough to have them both unraveling quickly. It wasn't enough. Clarke groaned as she came. Contracting around nothing. "Please Lex, I need more!"

Lexa quickly flipped Clarke over and hovered over her. "What do you need, Clarke?"

She trailed her fingers down down down. "I need those fingers inside me. I need my fingers inside of you."

Clarke snaked her hand between them and didn't wait for Lexa. Her fingers slid into Lexa with ease.

"Fuck! Clarke!"

Lexa's arm buckled and she lost her balance. She fell beside Clarke. "Shit sorry! Fuck!"

Clarke let out a soft laugh and moved to lie on her side facing Lexa. "Come here."

Clarke scooted closer leaning in for a kiss. Lexa happily met her lips. Clarke took Lexa's hand and guided it to her hip and then between them. Lexa bit Clarke's bottom lip and sucked on it as she took control of her hand sliding her fingers through slick folds. She circled Clarke's clit softly and it made her shiver. "Don't tease me please, I need you inside."

Lexa couldn't help but obey. She pressed her fingertips softly to her tight entrance and could feel Clarke pull her in. "Fuck, Lex!"

Lexa leaned in for another kiss and swallowed Clarke's moans as she curled her fingers and pressed her palm against Clarke's clit. Clarke snaked her own hand between them and slid her fingers into Lexa curling them the same as Lexa's and pressing her palm against her clit. She kept her palm in place and curled her fingers staying mostly inside timing the spongy front wall. Lexa mirrored the movements of Clarke as Clarke captured plump lips once again. The kisses got messier as moans escaped them. Teeth scraped against lips until all they could do was moan against each other's lips hot breath filling the space between them.

The sound of their movements was porn worthy. They were both so wet so close to cuming. Each press of fingers just made more wet squelches.

"Fuck Lex I'm gonna cum! Cum with me?"

"Yes fuck yes! Oh Clarke!"

"Ah, Lex! Lex! Yes ah ah!"

Walls contracted and gushes of slick heat spilled over palms and thighs. Finally sated at least for the moment exhaustion settled between them. They lazily kissed slow and sweet. They pressed their foreheads together and sighed contently. “We should rinse off.”

“We should but I can’t move.” Big blue eyes pouted.

Lexa got up and quickly picked up the blonde and carried her to the shower. They rinsed off and languidly kissed. They took turns washing each other softly and did the same as they dried off. Lexa removed the comforter that was soaked and grabbed a clean one. “Do you want a shirt and shorts?”

“No. I need you to feel you. Have you close.”

“Same.”

Lexa helped Clarke into bed and snuggled into her. They both felt the exhaustion settle in their bones tired yawns and slow breaths were lulling them to sleep.

It was the most blissful sleep either of them had ever experienced. It would become the only way they could sleep. Wrapped up in each other. That’s the thing about soulmates once you find your person everything changes. Fall would have a whole new special place in Clarke’s heart. Another reason to love it. Lexa too. The Spooktacular Arkadia Festival would remain a tradition for them, their children, and their grandchildren. Soulmates in this little life and in so many others. Forever Clexa lives on. <3

#Clextober23 #Day 3 Annual Fall Festival #Clexa #Day 3 #Clarke Griffin #Lexa Woods #The100AU #Soulmates #Harley Quinn #Poison Ivy #Harlivy

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forgetminot · 8 months

Note

Hey! Hope you are doing okay 🩷

I have a little request (if you feel comfortable, of course). I would love for you to write about Arthur Morgan x F!reader (Or GN), both are former lovers and they are reminiscing their time together. You can make it romantic, anyway you want. 🩷

Distant Memory

✿ Arthur Morgan x F!reader ✿

Warnings : TB Arthur (based in chapter 4 after he has been diagnosed- iM sOrRy) angst, fluff, past relationship, use of y/n.

Authors Note : I took the 'anyway you want' and rolled with it. I loved writing this thank you for the request queen 💙💙

Summary : You run into a familiar face and spend some time catching up and reminiscing.

You didn't expect him to look so... fragile- he wasn't well and you could see just from a quick glance in his direction. You turn around suddenly, retracing your steps as you follow behind the man and place your hand gently on his shoulder.

"Arthur?" He turns, slightly startled as you call out his name; you take in his appearance, his face was sunken and his complexion sallow. "It is you-"

"Y/n?" He speaks your name so softly you hardly hear him say it. "What are you doin' here?" He questions, motioning his hand to the busy streets of Saint Denis.

"Just visiting, it's nice to get away from the country now and then." You smile gently. "It's good to see you." You whisper.

"It-" He brings his hand to his mouth, coughing harshly. "-It's nice to see you." He responds as he wipes his hand against his shirt.

"You don't look well, Arthur..." You frown, taking his arm and stepping to the side of the street to stay clear of the bustling road. "How are you, how's the gang?" You ask. You knew little of the gang, only hearing stories from Arthur and seeing pictures of their faces littered on wanted posters.

"The gang-" he chuckles. "The gang has seen better days and, well, so have I." He sighs, leaning on his right side against the brick wall.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, was going to happen sooner or later." He replies bluntly.

"What happened?" You ask.

"How much time you got?" He asks back.

"I'm not going anywhere." You smile faintly. "Would you like to go somewhere more quiet? It would be nice to catch up after all these years." You suggest.

"Uh, yeah, we can do that." He nods. "Do you have a horse?" He questions as he whistles loudly, watching as his horse trots towards you both.

"I took the train here." You respond.

He lifts himself onto his steed and holds out his hand for you, which you gladly take; he pulls you up and you sit behind him, placing your hands carefully on either side of his waist. He tells you to hold on tight as you both make your way out of the city, dodging people and wagons as you go. You ride in silence for a while and you watch as the landscape changes from thick, murky swamps to the vivid greens of the plains.

"This should do." Arthur says as he pulls tightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a complete stop. He gets down from the horse first and offers his hand once again for you to take.

"Thank you." You smile kindly as your feet touch the ground.

"Course, no problem." He nods and heads towards a small lake, sitting on the ground a few feet from it; you follow after him and sit beside him, grateful that the grass is dry and not caked in mud. "How's your family?"

"Oh- My mother passed not too long ago." You sigh. "She was sick, went in her sleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that, she was always a nice woman."

"She still was, until the end." You smile faintly. "My Pa is well, still strong after everything." You laugh. "I know the both of you never saw eye to eye."

"He never liked the whole outlaw thing." Arthur grins.

"So, what happened?" You ask, referencing back to the gang.

"What hasn't happened?" He scoffs. "Job back in Blackwater went bad, real bad- Dutch shot some innocent girl and he ain't been right since." He sighs. "Then we lost Sean, always thought I'd celebrate the day that annoying boy left." He chuckles lightly. "He was like a brother to me..."

"I'm sorry to hear that." You respond kindly.

"Lost Hosea and Lenny not too soon after that, bank job in Saint Denis went horribly wrong."

"So, that's what all the wanted posters are about." You acknowledge. "Hosea- you used to mention him all the time."

"He was a better father than my real one ever was." He hums. "Always told me I was an idiot for not running off with you."

You giggle. "I can't imagine how that would have turned out."

"Would have been nice." He replies suddenly, surprised by his own response.

"I think you're right." You beam.

"You do?" He questions, coughing lightly.

"You were always good to me, Arthur. Always looked out for me, made me feel safe." You smile sadly. "Maybe in another life, we would have made it work..."

"If i didn't have people to look after I-"

"I know." You cut him off. "You were always so loyal, it's one thing I loved about you."

"Wasn't loyal enough to you." He sighs.

"I always knew that the gang came first, even if you didn't want to say it out loud." You place your hand over his. "They're family."

"You could have been family too." He mumbles, taking his hand from yours as he coughs roughly into it.

You frown, moving your hand to his back. "You're sick, ain't you?" You say, already knowing the answer.

"I'm dyin'" He laughs coldly. "Got tuberculosis, beating a guy for a few bucks."

"Oh, Arthur..." You rub your hand up his back slowly. "I- don't know what to say- I'm sorry." You sniff sadly.

"Dont be, I deserve every last second of it." He states bluntly.

"Don't say that!" You scold.

"I ain't the same man you fell in love with." He responds.

"Even so, no one deserves this."

"I'm a killer, Y/n." He laughs, standing up. "I hurt people, I steal from 'em too."

"There's always some good in people, Arthur. You always did good." You express, standing up to meet his eyes.

"The person you knew, he's just a distant memory." He admits.

"I don't believe that." You step closer, taking both his hands in yours. "I don't think that part of you would just disappear, Arthur."

"You don't know me no more." He shakes his head.

"I do, because the person you are talking about wouldn't have spared me a second glance: wouldn't have helped me up onto his horse and sat next to me by the lake." You grip his hands tighter. "Maybe, if you really think you have changed- you should use the time you have left to be good."

"I- I'm tryin' to help people." He sighs.

"You are a good man, Arthur Morgan." You smile softly. "And I don't think you are too different from the man I never stopped loving." You place your hand against his cheek gently.

"Wish I never left." He whispers, placing his hand on top of your small one.

"We can't change the past." You frown.

"I'll do better." He insists.

You nod, leaning up and placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I know."

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curiositydooropened · 1 year

Text

Better Off - Part Two

Four years since Argyle's wedding, Robin invited you and the gang to her boss's lake house. Hoping good memories will be made, you're forced to wrestle with some ghosts of your past.

This fic runs in the same Universe as My Whole Life, Too.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Wordcount: 14,132

Warnings: second chance romance, angst, fluff, sex and sex adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), recreational drinking and drug use, mentions of pregnancy and parenthood, mentions of the loss of loved ones

Navigation • Masterlist • Part One

---

Your gaze blurred on ribbons of gold and ivory, stretched and pulled and flipped as a man in candy stripes worked his taffy on its puller. The air smelled sticky sweet of vanilla and lemon and warmth, and you bundled tighter into your sweater with each burst of cold air and ding of a bell at the door.

Another worker with rolled sweets pressed and smacked them onto the countertop, the scattering of beads pulling your focus and stirring you from your daze. She offered a sample with a kind smile, and you thanked her before popping the sticky sour drop into your mouth.

It ached at the stress sore just between your teeth and molars, but you supposed you deserved the slight agony. With a sigh, you dropped your shoulders and allowed Robin to shove you gently back to the cobblestones streets, the outside air a misty chill. Large, grey clouds loomed in the distance, the forecasted storm apt weather for your current state of mind.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Robin groaned for the four hundredth time that day.

You managed to plaster on a smile, though you could feel the dishonesty behind it, and gave her a hand squeeze. “Shut up, please.”

“Yeah, Robin, we’re fine,” Nancy agreed sidling up on her other side, that special Nancy-Wheeler-determination etched between her brows. “All of this shit needed to be aired out anyway. You just facilitated it.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “That makes me feel so much better.”

You shrugged. “I’m glad it’s all coming out now, when I have you two for support.”

Nancy’s facade nearly broke then, the glimmer of emotion in her eyes, but she gave a curt nod. “Me too.”

Robin groaned and started back on your path down the western side of the road. This little lakeside town was full of antique shops and souvenir stores. Every store had something you liked, in a black or navy, or in a Devil red or forest green, smoked charcoal or honeyed yellow. You’d given up a few stores ago now, understanding the Universe was just mocking you.

Other than the looming storm clouds and the lingering guilt from the night before, you supposed you were having a lovely, if not much-needed girls day. In any other scenario, you’d be delighted to walk such a pristine little village, smelling the early summer buds and tasting at each little eatery along the route. Plus, the company was ideal.

“Robs, I’m coming to visit you immediately, I hope you know,” you linked your arm with hers and fell into step. “You’ll never see me because I’ll spend the entire trip holed up in a bakery, elbow-deep in baguettes, but I’ll be there. You’ll teach me French?”

“Bien sûr,” she snickered, tugging you into a vintage clothing shop.

The window display had a little black dress á la Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the place smelled of mothballs and rose-scented perfume. It reminded you a bit of your grandmother, on your mother’s side. She had an oversized hatbox that was passed down to you, chock full of love letters from soldiers in the war.

A similar hatbox sat near the register, pale pink and pressed satin, and you jimmied the top off to see if any secrets lay inside. No love letters, but a collection of multicolored silk scarves. You pulled one from the top, white with thin, navy Breton stripes and tied it around your neck. “What do you think, Robin? Will I fit right in?”

Robin abandoned her post near an oversized button bin, hands already full, and waggled her eyebrows, dropping her haul to the countertop. “It’s perfect,” she chuckled, caressing it between her thumb and forefinger.

You watched her blue eyes scan your features, smile softening, and eventually her padded shoulders dropped in a sigh.

“You can’t run away to France with me.”

You smiled at that. “Why not?”

She shook her fringe from her eyes. “Eddie’s not mad at you, you know.”

You swallowed, nodded. “I know. I’m still going to apologize.”

“And for what it’s worth,” she dug through the box in front of you, avoiding your gaze. “Steve did love you, maybe does love you.”

You sighed and untied the scarf around your throat, suddenly suffocated by the stuffy air in here. “Steve loves the idea of me.” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, remembering you were talking to his best friend too. “I just mean… I don’t think it’s fair to start something again when I can’t be certain how I’d like to finish it.”

Robin nodded. “I can appreciate that stance. It’s very… mature.” She commented with the flair for dramatics that would put Eddie to shame, pulling a rose-covered scarf from the box with a flourish and tying it around her head.

You snorted.

“Guys,” Nancy’s voice was so meek from the corner of the room, you barely recognized it. When you turned, she was holding the world’s smallest knit sweater, navy blue with a great white whale, and she was crying.

—

You recognized the calm from ten years of coastal living. That sweet, soft lull in birdsong, the electricity in the air. Clouds blackened the sky, and off-shore docks groaned under whitecaps’ wake. You stood in your room, looking out the tiny window at the billowing tops of trees, fingers idling at the satin ribbon around your neck, Robin’s treat. You couldn’t focus in the silence, only hearing the thrum of your heart against your ribcage. You could sense Eddie in the room next door, could feel smoke and anxiety attached to a string around your finger, reminding you of the atrocities you’d enacted. Calm before the storm.

With a deep breath and a decided snap of tension, you toed out of the room, floorboard creaking with each step toward atonement.

Only, Eddie’s room was empty, door wide, belonging strewn about like he’d moved in. His window was bigger than yours, curtains drawn and window cracked. A cool breeze whipped around your knees, billowing the soft chiffon of your skirt. You sighed and crossed, moving a handmade ashtray from the window sill to the side table. A well-loved copy of A Wizard of Earthsea sat beside the lamp, dog-eared to all Hell.

You tugged the window down and latched it when something glinted to the North, catching your eye.

From this vantage, you could just make out the tip of the dock, and the boat in its mooring, rocking mercilessly back and forth. You cursed and turned heel to find Steve waiting in the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes turned up at you like he’d been waiting and didn’t know what to say.

“Did you guys wind the boat up?” You asked before he had a chance to speak.

He opened his mouth, brows furrowed, and that was enough of an answer to have you shoving past him and down the staircase to slip into your sneakers and out the front door.

“What are you-?” Robin called out from her cozy spot on the sofa.

You waved her off with a “Be right back!” and let the slap of rubber to wood lead you down the winding staircase, past the patio and fire pit, and to the end of the dock. Halfway there, you heard Steve calling after you, heard his curses, the distinct thud of his own feet on your tail.

The boat swayed under its awning. Steve’s voice was lost on the wind. Waves thrashed against rocky shores.

“Hold that steady!” You called after him, pointing to the bow, and he rushed as instructed, wind whipping at auburn hair, the navy collar of his polo.

The boat had been placed under the dock, tied to a safeguard by a tight rope, but you knew that if it wasn’t cranked upwards and out of the water, the metal casing surrounding it could cause some serious damage, depending on the intensity of the storm. And, as you put all of your strength and effort into cranking the oversized metal wheel, the storm began to show you just how intense it could get.

Wind rushed between your legs, stretched wide for leverage, slicking your skirt to your thighs as the sky opened up and rain began to pour. A deluge of oversized drops, ice cold, that trampled your hair and soaked your skin, slipping your fingers from their handhold. You cursed, but Steve was right there to help, hair stuck to his temples, biceps flexed as he cranked the boat upward and out of the water.

You hated that you couldn’t look away, frigid wet to the bone, standing between Steve and the house, waves spraying the shoreline, unmoving as he stared back at you, blinking away rainwater, licking it from his lips.

A crack of thunder startled you both, and you ran, slipped on the wet floorboards of the dock to be caught in strong arms, hands that gripped your cardigan at your waist line and pulled you in close, warm, led you to an abandoned beach hut to wait out the storm.

The space was musty and dark and damp, and you were uncomfortable under skin-slicked clothes, pressed against a splintering wooden bench with molding life vests in neon orange. Steve hovered over you, breath heavy in his warm chest, droplets from his hair shaken into your eyelashes and across the tops of your cheeks. His hands remained on your waist, a tether, a buoy, anchoring himself to you and you to the ground for each roll of thunder from above.

Rain pelted the tin roof too loud to hear the racing of your heart, too loud to hear your own anxiety screaming at you to leave, to run back up the hill to safety, too loud to stop you.

Steve’s grip tightened on your waist, tugging at the material of your skirt, and the tip of his nose met your temple, ice-cold, in a line. Then his cheek was pressed to yours, stubble and sunscreen. His breath warmed the lobe of your ear.

You helped him lift you onto the bench, the whole thing wobbling under your weight, but you had faith in his grasp on you, his weight between your legs as he helped to hitch your skirt up one thigh, material tacky to goose-pimpled flesh. His hands were ice-cold, but you were on fire as he trailed fingertips from your hip to your knee, hooking your leg up higher on his hip.

Another roll of thunder wracked through his shoulders, a quake around your frame that you squaring him to face you. His expression was unreadable, pupils wide, but lips drawn downward, jaw clenched. His far-off gaze lingered on your lips, and he licked his own, pawing at the underside of your thigh.

This was the moment of no return. You knew it. You knew he could feel it. Something deep inside was clawing its way up, trying to remind you of all of the heartache you’d endured in the last four years, but the rain wouldn’t let up, and his hand kneaded your flesh in a way that felt so right, so familiar, felt like home.

You caught his elbow to stop his movements, and he tensed, shoulders receding in defeat, like he’d just been waiting for you to stop him, like his mind had been racing like your own.

You breathed his name, like a prayer, and his gaze snapped back to yours. “Touch me.”

Drowning your better judgement, you trailed your fingers down the rope of muscles in his forearm to grasp at his wrist and guide his hand to where you needed him most.

God, it felt like coming home. Steve’s hands were made for you, a perfect form to all of the places you needed him, as if he’d made you himself. You were plaster, and he Michaelangelo. He flattened creases formed over time from wear and stress, and kneaded them smooth and soft.

He stretched and hit places that had your eyelids alight with stardust, places you hadn’t hit in years. Your fingernails caught on the breadth of his shoulders and the rain against the roof dampened the sinful sounds pouring from each of your open mouths. He worked you like he’d been born to do it, a sailor devoted to a life at sea, or rather returning from too many years landlocked, eager and determined.

He muttered affirmations hot and damp against the shell of your ear that had you keening, begging for him to keep going, desperate to stay afloat, until the band snapped and the buoy became untethered, rope unraveling within you.

The rainfall slowed and the sunlight fell in shallow waves across patches in the siding. Your breath evened against the damp planes of Steve’s throat. Clarity began to sharpen the softened edges. A chill wracked through you, soaked through, and you forced him from your space. Gently, you hopped from the bench, skirt falling around shaky knees.

The beach hut door opened with a creak, and you stepped out into the sun.

—

Your eyes remained unfocused on the candlelight, too warm and itchy under an afghan and dry clothes to listen to the nostalgia being shared in the adjacent seating room. You hadn’t left the dining table, reassuring everyone you were fine, just exhausted, when you hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of your dinner. All you could focus on was Steve’s grip around the top of his beer bottle, condensation dripping between the soft pads of his fingers.

“Hey.”

You startled at the intrusion, and tried to blink away the residual flickers in your eyesight, focusing instead on the forlorn look on Jonathan’s face as he scooted into the seat beside you, offering a chocolate bar. You took it with a soft smile, peeling back the plastic wrapping and hunkering further into your patched blanket.

“Remember last month when we were eating pizza at 3AM, laughing about how crazy this trip would be,” he released that cheeky half-smile you hadn’t seen since he’d heard the news.

You snorted, snapping off a section of chocolate to let melt on your tongue. You rolled your eyes, passing it back for him to break off a piece. “Yeah, how’re you feeling?”

He sighed, ran a hand down his face, shrugged. You watched him stare into the flame for a while.

When he didn’t speak, you reached your hand out to take his, and he met your gaze again with a wry smile, squeezing your hand. “At least I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

“You will?” You grinned.

He shrugged. “Unless Nancy wants to move overseas. But if that’s the case, I suppose we’ll just take you with us.”

Your heart ached at the sentiment, and you felt your emotions start to stick in your throat. He was moving to be with her. He was dropping everything he loved, everything he had, to be with Nancy, wherever her dreams took her. And although that made you wildly happy for them, it also further drove home that ache in the pit of you, that spot that hurt.

A pair of knuckles wrapped at the doorway, stirring your attention from Jonathan. Nancy and Eddie stood side-by-side, hands shoved into pockets or hid in the sleeves of oversized sweaters. Nancy mumbled a goodnight, tiny frame dwarfed beside the gangly man beside her, both of their curls haloed in candlelight.

“I’ll go with you,” Jonathan hoisted himself upright, planting a soft kiss to your cheek before he followed Nancy up the winding staircase and into the darkness beyond.

Eddie lingered, shuffling closer to break a piece off your candy bar on the table. “Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” you sighed. You hadn’t spoken to him all day. More accurately, you’d been avoiding him all day.

Another burst of laughter echoed from the living room. Eddie nodded toward the kitchen and moved the chocolate to his cheek to ask, “Wanna chat?”

With a swallow and a nod, you pulled your chair out from the table and gathered your unfinished dinner plate to follow him into the kitchen, discarding your blanket at your place setting.

Eddie sidled up to a counter, silhouetted in moonlight, and he stayed silent while you scraped your scraps into the garbage and rinsed your plate. When you were finished, you hoisted yourself to the countertop beside him, shoulder’s hunched, heels kicking at the baseboard cabinet. The light flickered warm from the other rooms, laughter trickling in in intervals of hushed tones.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you both simultaneously, followed by a snicker of understanding. You elbowed him, and he swayed dramatically, sinking his weight back into you.

“Shut up,” you scolded. “I’m actually sorry. I was being a dick. You did nothing wrong.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie countered. “You didn’t deserve what I said. At least, not the way I said it.”

You sighed and linked your arm with his, resting your head atop his bony shoulder. You felt the press of lips to the crown of your head, his cheek to your hair.

“You do know I just want you to be happy, right? And that I love you?”

“I know,” you smiled, tilting your head to kiss at the seam of his band tee. “I love you too.”

“I, uh…” He raked a hand down his face, callouses catching on stubble. “I talked to Steve today, while you guys were out. He told me what he said to you.”

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told him to grow up.”

You pulled yourself upright to see that Cheshire grin poking dimples into pale cheeks.

“And that him hating it just made me want to do you even more. With him watching.”

“Eddie!” You shoved at his shoulder, and once again he sunk further into you, hiding a cackle behind his hand. “You perv.”

“Come on, you know he’d be into that.”

Your face heated at the idea. Your mind flashed back to that dark look in Steve’s eyes, in the beach hut, watching you get off on his thick, warm fingers, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the steady rise and fall of his broad chest beneath your palms.

“I would to,” Eddie elbowed you out of your daydream, and you landed a punch, harder this time.

“Stop!”

He snickered and dodged your next attack, rubbing the sore spot you’d left on his bicep. “You’re fiesty under emotional duress.” He grinned. “What does it say about me that I find that really sexy?”

“That you need help,” you snorted.

He caught your wrist and pressed your hand to his sternum, deepening his voice. “Yeah I do, sweetheart.”

You scoffed as his rumble turned into a laugh, and since you couldn’t take your hand back, you gripped his t-shirt to pull him closer, resting your forehead to his chest. He tucked you under his jaw and released your wrist in favor of wrapping you in a tight hug. Cigarette smoke and sunscreen and rumbled laughter and lithe limbs and still, somehow, it wasn’t enough. Something dammed at your throat, and you clenched every muscle in your body to rid yourself of the anxiety building.

Eddie began soothing ministrations up and down your spine. “You need to talk to him.” He mumbled into your temple, breath hot and chocolatey against your skin. “I mean, really talk to him. Like just the two of you, hash it out for hours. You get out everything you need to. Let him tell his part. We both know you won’t be able to make a decision until you get everything out on the table and really look at it, as a whole.”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Make a decision?”

He pulled away, pressing soft hands to your cheeks, dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow. “Promise me something?”

You hummed.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him sometime this week. It can be right before we leave, for all I care. But I need you to tell me what you figured out before you get on that plane.”

There was something hopeful in his gaze, features softened to that lost little boy you’d tutored. There were too many meanings behind his words, too many things that spun in your mind and caught somewhere in the ventricles of your heart. “Eddie…” You muttered.

He released your face and wiped nervous hands to his jeans, suddenly shier than you’d seen him in years. “Christ, I didn’t mean it as like an ultimatum or anything. I’m not that guy.” Not like Steve. He scratched at the back of his neck, took a few steps backward. “I just need to know if I need to hide the liquor bottles or if Hawkins’ is getting a new resident.”

God, why did each phrase feel like an extra stab in the gut?

“I’m sorry,” Eddie stammered a laugh, wrapping ringed fingers against the flat plane of his chest. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.” He never drank more than one.

You reached your hand out, stretched all the way across the gap until the tips of your fingers brushed the silver of his rings.

He sighed and took your grasp, allowed you to pull him back into you.

“I promise I’ll talk to him,” you chewed on the inside of you cheek, ducked to catch his gaze. “And I promise I’ll talk to you.”

The dimple tucked into his cheek beside those plump, pink lips, stretched thin in an awkward smile. He nodded. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Then, he leaned to press his lips to yours. It was chaste, soft, a cascade of curls around your face, and lithe fingertips against your cheekbone. Your eyes didn’t have time to flutter closed. Then he was kissing your knuckles and bending his slender frame into a dramatic bow.

“Goodnight, m’lady.”

You managed a choked laugh. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

—

Kneading dough was grounding, cathartic. It made you feel like everything was right in the world. Soft, sticky between flour-caked knuckles, the dull thud against the rolling board, the squeaky wheels of the rolling pin, the sweet smell of apples caramelizing in a nearby mixing bowl, all of it felt like heaven to you. You were at peace with an apron tied around your waist, lakeside wind sweeping in through the opened window, oven making the small space a bit stuffy and warm.

The others were down at the patio, or out on the water, you weren’t sure. You stayed behind to think, to clear your mind, to distract yourself from the constant tipping of a scale one direction or the other. You’d tossed and turned all night thinking of Steve’s hands and Eddie’s lips and the complications to your life that each one brought. So you decided midmorning should be spent centering yourself, alone with your craft, and at peace.

You’d pressed the dough into its tin, trimming the edges and balling the scraps to be rolled and cut into strips for a lattice work top. You poured the apple slice mixture, all cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg and clove, watching the sun sparkle against their wet flesh. You indulged in licking the spoon, tangy and sticky. Then you sprinkled flour to your surface again to start rolling out the remaining dough, humming to yourself as the birds chirped outside.

You flattened and cut and worked a lattice and ate the scraps, admiring your handiwork before you placed it into the oven and set the little wind-up timer on the stovetop. It was shaped like an egg. Your mom had one when you were young. It disappeared somewhere over time, or in the move. You contemplated stealing this one.

You poured yourself some fresh-squeezed lemonade, tart and sweet, and leaned yourself against the countertop. You watched the sparkle of waves just off-shore and sipped and tried not to allow your mind to wander until the subject of your wandering mind entered your kitchen with mussed hair and sun kissed skin, pulling expensive sunglasses from the freckled bridge of his nose.

“Smells amazing,” Steve smiled, reaching past you for a glass to pour himself some lemonade. You watched his forearm handle the full pitcher with care. You watched the length of his throat as he drank. You watched his tongue dart to lick a drop from the corner of pink lips. He set himself against the counter opposite you, ten feet away and still too close.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked, praying for Robin to come prancing in with a bucket of ice cold water.

“On the boat. They just left.” He set his glass beside him. “We should talk about yesterday.”

You turned to start the washing up, sink full of mixing bowls and measuring cups. The counter was white with flour. You turned the tap on hot, and the rushing of water into a metal sink had your brain buzzing with images of rain against the tin roof of the hut. You swallowed. “Yesterday was a mistake.”

You weren’t even sure you said it out loud, didn’t dare look to him for confirmation. You just held your front two fingers under the water to gauge temperature, although to be honest, you wouldn’t be able to tell scalding from freezing right now anyway.

“Sure, yeah, totally,” his tone was oddly light. Out of your peripherals, you caught him entering your space, sidling up to the opposite side of you now. He smelled of expensive cologne, deliciously Steve. “Or… we could just make some adjustments to our truce.”

You looked up at him then, caught breathless by the dark look in his eyes. You swallowed. “What?”

He shrugged, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Well, we agreed to be civil and not bring up the past.” He held your gaze. “We only have a couple of days left. Might as well… I don’t know, make the most of it?” His jaw was firm, but there was something playful in his tone, a fire behind his eyes you hadn’t seen in years.

You scoffed. “You’re serious?”

He shrugged again, leaned into your space to brush flour from your shoulder, sweeping your hair back as he did so. God, he was good. “You had fun, didn’t you?”

“Steve,” you peeled yourself away, scrubbing melted sugar from the rim of a measuring cup.

“Come on,” he boxed you in, his frame folding around yours, warm and broad and strong. “You’re on vacation.” The tip of his nose found the shell of your ear, sending sparks from skull to tailbone. “You deserve to relax, babe.”

Babe. So flippant, so casual. It’s what he called you, before, when it was just the two of you playing house in hotel rooms. You elbowed him off of you, grateful when he respected your boundaries and stood a few more feet away.

With a sigh, you turned off the faucet, only the singular measuring cup squeaky clean. You dried your hands on a hand towel embroidered with dairy cow and its milkmaid, and you turned to face Steve.

He had a fantastic pokerface, to add to the list of vast differences between he and his housemate. Where Eddie showed every last thought that came into his mind, Steve remained stoic, strong brow furrowed, jaw tight, keen eyes watching your every movement. He kept his shoulders squared, but lax, and his strong arms kept him upright against the lip of the counter, strong arms you were desperate to have wrapped around you again.

“Be civil, no bringing up the past, and have fun while it lasts,” you agreed before your brain caught up with your words.

All at once, Steve crowded your space again, pressing your backside to the damp countertop, an arm to either side of your hips, dipping his nose to meet yours.

You pressed your fingertips to his chest to push him away a few more inches. “Don’t call me babe.”

His lips split into a grin at that, and he chuckled a low rumble in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

He was eager, so eager, and you felt the buzz in your waist, the flutter under your sternum. You watched his tongue wet soft, pink lips, and were suddenly reminded of the third grade, of Tommy H.’s birthday, of the surprise smooch in a treehouse and of wanting to savor that kiss for the rest of your life. As Steve dipped his head low once more, you turned to face the oven, ducking away.

“And I’m not going to kiss you.” An odd boundary you didn’t know you had until it was there, presenting itself in a panic clawing at your chest. You just knew if you kissed him, you’d be done for. You’d be packing everything you owned into a U-haul and signing the lease next to his name. Just like Eddie said.

Steve’s stoic facade seemed to falter for a split second before he nodded and pulled away. He eyed you for a beat too long before he lowered his voice to ask, “Am I allowed to kiss you?” And the implications in his tone had your knees weakening.

You swallowed in a vain attempt to lubricated a parched throat, and nodded.

He emitted a groan from somewhere deep, and you bit down hard on your lip as you watched King Steve Harrington sink to his knees before you, hands traveling up your skirt to knead at the flesh of your thighs like it grounded him, like it made everything right in the world.

He tugged your shirt free from the waistband of your apron and skirt, watching you, amber eyes painted black. His breath was hot against your stomach, your hip bone. “Can you see the front door?” He asked.

You peeled your gaze from him to look through the entry way to the front door. You nodded.

“Good. Keep watch for me, sweet girl.”

—

“Scale of 1-10, how hot do I look?” Robin did a pose, hair stuffed under a wide-brimmed hat and blue blazer sleeves rolled.

“Ten,” you and Nancy affirmed simultaneously, blotting your own pink lipsticks in the full-length mirror on the back of Robin’s bedroom door. You wore a low-cut blouse with flowy sleeves, and Nancy looked sleek in black, and she helped stick a bobby pin into your scalp when a curl threatened to fall out of place.

“What are the odds there’s a single, hot lesbian looking for a hook up?”

“At a country western bar?” Nancy peered back at your friend, and you chuckled.

“Robin,” you reassured. “I promise there will be at least one single, hot lesbian looking for a hook up.”

Robin sighed. “Yeah. Me.”

She’d picked the venue for your night out, spotted it on your walk through town the previous morning, and convinced the group to go after their late evening naps. The sky had started to soak in peaches and golds, and the warmth had cooled from a breeze that billowed curtains and chilled your fevered cheeks. You’d spent the day distracted, praying no one would notice the smile that ached at the corners of your lips. You were thankful for the excuse to be chipper.

“Ladies, I need advice,” Argyle called from beyond the door, and you gently led Nancy to the side so you could open it to meet him. He wore a leather vest with a spearmint button-up beneath it, and in his hands were two ties, one a shocking pink, the other a bolo with a cubic design in brass.

“Bolo, always,” you confirmed.

“That’s what I said!” Eddie called from the next room over.

“Alright,” Argyle nodded and toed back to his own room to put his tie on in a mirror.

Nancy slipped out beside you to meet Jonathan at the top of the stairs. Your heart ached in your chest when you watched his lips meet her temple, and his hand slip into hers. They shared sweet words and walked down the stairs together.

Robin shoved past you. “Sorry, gotta brush my teeth. Will you check on Steve for me? You know he always takes the longest.”

You stood in her doorway for a long moment, staring at the wood of Steve’s bedroom door from across the hall. Your hands clammed up at your sides, but you released a held breath and closed the distance to wrap your knuckles against the panels.

“Come in,” he called from inside, and you turned the handle and pushed yourself inside.

Steve’s room was a mirror of your own, window facing the water, slanted ceiling, headboard against the opposite wall. His bed was neatly made, pillows stacked at attention just like his mom taught him. The bedside lamp illuminated everything soft and warm.

Steve stood at a dresser putting on his watch, forest green polo taught over the muscles of his back. He glanced up at you when you entered, cheeks turning up in a grin. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you breathed back, propping yourself against the wall beside the door. “Robin wanted me to tell you to hurry up.”

“I’m ready,” he held his hands out to show himself off, and you admired the stretch of denim across his thighs.

“You look good,” you affirmed, swallowing when he closed the distance between you, eyes flickering to the hallway just to your right hand side.

When the coast was apparently clear, he placed a hand on your waist. “So do you. Tonight should be fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you nodded. You felt giddy again, like he had you pressed up against the school lockers, hiding from the principal between classes.

“Yeah?” His voice graveled, and he pressed himself even closer, wedging his thigh between your legs.

“Dingus! You ready or what?” Robin shouted, and all at once, Steve was gone, his warmth replaced by cool breeze.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he groaned, fidgeting with the watch at his wrist. “Thanks for the help,” he waved it your direction, and you furrowed your brow before noticing Robin’s head poked through the doorway.

She narrowed her eyes your direction, but grabbed Steve’s other wrist to lead him out and down the stairs.

You took a minute to calibrate, a few calming breaths, before you followed them. When you rounded into the hallway, you startled at the sight of Eddie in his own doorway, lithe frame covered in black, damp curls hung in his eyes. That dimple carved deep into his cheek.

“You look smoking hot,” he greeted.

You rolled your eyes but hooked your hand into his elbow and let him escort you down the stairs to meet the others.

—

Tequila was great after the initial burn. Once the tang of lime shocked your taste buds, you were smooth sailing. The music was live and loud. The room filled with smoke and the sweet smell of alcohol. Wooden walls were lined with neon beer logos and antlers. A dart board sat in one corner, a pool table in another. You were warmed from the inside, tingling fingertips and toes.

The first round alone had you doing things you ought not, like catching Steve’s gaze over the top of Nancy’s head. He’d been staring, lips glossy and eyes hungry, and you couldn’t look away until Argyle bought round two.

Round three had you on the dance floor, pressed against the warm rumble of Eddie’s chest while he hummed a balad just under the crooning of the band’s lead singer. Flirting with Eddie was another thing you ought not do, but holding back felt impossible, tequila or no. Especially when he held you so close, thigh between your knees, swaying you back and forth to some slow and sultry tune.

“Have I told you you look smoking hot tonight?” He indulged in another rake of your features, not shy from peaking down your blouse.

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth to avoid the smile aching at them and managed to shrug. “Might’ve mentioned it.”

He chuckled, shaking his hair from his eyes. “Yeah, I like that top.”

“I look better without it,” you countered, cocking a brow.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” His dark eyes shone under dim lighting, and his plump lips turned up at the corners. He was all curls, cigarettes and spearmint, and something in his eyes sank your heart. It was Eddie’s heart on his sleeve again, that poker face slipping just long enough to show you the longing beyond the lust.

You swallowed and placed a hand to his cheek, thumbing over scruff and stubble. His name caught in your throat.

“Song’s almost over,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose with yours. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, and the air was expelled from your lungs when he dipped you low. He gripped your thigh at his waist, and you felt the trail of his nose up your sternum and throat as he pulled you upright, breathless and warmed.

Your audience whooped and hollered from their high-top.

Stage shy, you allowed Eddie to take your hand and tug you back to the table. His grip was strong, thumb administering distraction circles upon your wrist. Nancy slid you a full glass of iced water, and you thanked her for it.

“Okay, why the fuck are you both so hot?” Robin scoffed, chugging her own red plastic cup of water.

“Born this way, Buckley. Don’t act so shocked.�� Eddie reached over to flick her forehead, and she swatted at him.

“She’s right though,” Jonathan pitched in, saucy grin playing on boyish features. He slung an arm around Nancy’s shoulder, and she grimaced before shoving him off.

“Yeah, you guys should make a porno,” Argyle nodded, mustache turned down in thought before he snapped his fingers. “Baker and the Beast.”

“Jesus Christ,” you snorted, thankful for the water to hide your warming face. You took a long drink, praying for the ice to cool you down.

“Sex Dungeon Master,” Robin chimed in, and you nearly did a spit take.

“Full Metal Banging,” Steve piped in to everyone’s surprise. You looked up at him to see a playful smirk across those sinful lips, and he shrugged, nodded, took another sip of his beer. “I’d watch it.” Something in you ached at the low tones of his voice.

Eddie shook a ringed finger Steve’s direction. “I fucking knew it! I knew you liked to watch. Harrington, you dirty dog!”

Steve merely shrugged, pokerface stoic again while his eyes offered you something more salacious. You wondered if the rest of them caught him staring the way you did, wondered if they could tell what transpired between the two of you in the beach hut, in the kitchen.

A new song kicked on, much faster, more familiar than the last, and Eddie finally released your hand, now cold and clammy, to snap his fingers in Robin’s direction. “Come on, Buckley. Your turn.”

Robin sighed and extended a hand for him to take. “Fine, but no cleavage licking.”

“Come on,” Eddie whined, and before they trailed off to the dance floor, you heard him say, “I washed my tits before we came!”

You laughed and fell into a spot beside Nancy, avoiding Steve’s gaze as you drank your water and attempted to sober yourself up. Maybe three was your limit, maybe two, but you felt just primed enough to give away all of your secrets.

“Nancy,” Argyle stood from his seat and tightened the bolo around his neck. “May I have this dance?”

Before the warmth of Nancy beside you had been replaced by air conditioning and the smell of stale beer, a strong hand had slipped itself between your knuckles.

“Jonathan, watch the table,” Steve said, pulling you onto the dance floor.

Under a swirl of lights, and to the fast rhythm of bass and drums, you were tucked close to Steve’s front and backed toward the center of the dance floor. People swung and dipped around you, and Steve bobbed and weaved your way through them with laughter rumbling deep in his chest. God, you missed that sound.

He was wildly off tempo, and a little off-balance, but maybe that was the tequila affecting your equilibrium. He had one hand to the small of your back, the other swinging wildly, and he stepped on your toes more than once.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” you leaned in to shout into the shell of his ear.

He pulled back to shoot you an incredulous look before pulling you in close again, breath hot on the side of your face. “You taught me how to dance.”

You shook your head, but released a laugh that bubbled high in your chest. “I did not!”

“Yes you did,” he argued. “At prom. I told you I didn’t know how to dance, and you promised you’d teach me. So if I’m horrible, that’s on you.”

You smiled into his chest, and allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what she would think of you now, senior-you, prom-going-you. You wondered how she’d feel, swept around a dance floor in King Steve’s arms all these years later.

You could still remember walking down the staircase to meet him. You could still see the flush of his cheeks when he saw you, could remember the distinct kick of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, dingus!” Robin’s voice sliced through your memories. You blinked back into focus to find her and Eddie beside you. Eddie was using Robin’s hand to swat at Steve’s side.

“Will you two grow up?” Steve scolded, ever the dad of the group.

“We have a question for you two,” she ignored him, continuing to prod at his bicep and then yours when he spun you to use as a human shield.

“What?” You laughed.

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” Robin’s voice carried over the music, swam in your head, heated you from the inside out as you felt the stares of intrigue from your dance partner and hers.

You snorted, shook your head, and avoided their gaze. “Yeah, I’m not answering that.”

Robin booed you.

“You’re so drunk!” You laughed.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned, sidling up beside Steve. He had mischief in his eyes. “We can handle it.”

Steve squared up then, stopped your sway, and his mouth stretched into an equally devilish grin. “Yeah, Munson can handle it.”

You cocked a brow, still in Steve’s grasp, and looked straight into Eddie’s big, brown eyes, conjuring a memory you knew would earn a reaction from the both of them. “Campsite at the coast? Back of the car?”

Eddie nodded, big, dramatic, hair swinging in front of his face. He pointed at Robin. “That’s what I said!”

“Holy shit, Harrington, you want some ice for that burn?” Robin cackled, high-fiving you and Eddie both.

When you found Steve’s gaze again, he was blinking back at you, mouth slightly ajar. You tried and failed to bite back the giggle that bubbled in your chest, doubling over into his stunned chest while you wheezed a laugh, tequila taking over.

You heard Robin and Eddie yell run and squeal beside you, and when you looked up, they were spinning manically away. Steve’s mouth had closed, and he licked at his molars, nodding slowly. You worried for half a second before the corner of his mouth turned up, and he spun you away and back. You yelped, narrowly avoiding a speaker.

You crashed into his chest and laughed the tune of his own rhythmic chuckle, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to hold yourself steady.

“If I had known this is what it’d take to make you happy, I’d have gone down on you at the beginning of the week,” Steve grinned.

“Steve!” You admonished, glancing around to make sure no one was around to hear what he’d said. You were far from the table now, and definitely out of earshot.

“Tell me about the campsite.” When you met his gaze again, it was that same delicious look that set you on fire from the inside out, unwavering.

You breathed his name again, faltering a little on your feet, but he caught you.

“Come on,” he swayed your hips in his hands. “I gotta study my competition if I want to know how to come out on top.”

You licked your lips, searched his honeyed eyes for any sign of a trap, but he was just as tipsy as you were. Tequila painted the hollows of his cheeks pink. “It was the middle of the day. Campers everywhere. We had to be quiet.”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His grip on your waist tightened, and he pulled you impossibly closer. You could feel every ripple of muscle beneath the luxurious fabric of his top. He looked around the room before his eyes trailed your face, your lips, down the front of your blouse and back. “This is a room full of people, and the music’s so loud you wouldn’t have to be quiet.”

His words sent heat through you.“You’re drunk,” you sucked in a smile and glanced back across the room at Jonathan drooping in his seat, a soft smile on his face as he watched Nancy and Argyle dance. Robin and Eddie twirled and dipped in a far-off corner.

Steve pressed the tip of his nose to the baby hairs at your forehead. “So take advantage of me.”

In that moment, you realized Steve Harrington could be dangerous, commanding, a force to be reckoned with.

—

The hot, sticky glow of three shots of tequila faded to heart palpitations and a burn in your calves. Though, that could be the dancing, the grin that ached at your features, the early morning burrito, or the anticipation that kept you buzzing, bouncing the balls of your bare feet against floorboards while you counted the creaks and footsteps outside your door.

You turned in earlier than the others, feigning exhaustion related to old age, just to prop yourself against the headboard for nearly an hour before the raucous laughter died down beneath you and the sounds of your compatriots readying themselves for bed filtered in under your bedroom door.

Anxiety replaced that warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You listened to Robin’s hiccups on high-alert, pulse thudding to her steady rhythm. You toed to the door, pressed your ear to the wood to listen to the mutterings of goodnight, the faucet running in the bathroom, the steady pad of feet just beyond.

Your hand hovered over the lock on your brass knob, but you snatched it away, pacing to the foot of your bed and back. Once, twice, three times. You caught your reflection in a mirror above the bedside. You’d left your makeup on, curled hair falling around your shoulders in tendrils. The bra you wore beneath an oversized t-shirt pinched at the skin under your arm, but it was the prettiest you’d packed in periwinkle lace to match the panties hiding beneath plaid night shorts.

You were making a mistake. Throat dry, you crossed back to the door, reaching for the knob to lock it and turn yourself in for the night.

The cool brass turned under your touch, and the door swung your way, narrow, allowing a shadowed figure to step into the honeyed glow of your bedside lamp.

“Hi,” Steve smiled, towering over you, breath fresh and hair mussed.

You swallowed. “Hi.”

“Sorry,” he hissed, closing the door behind himself. The click emitted feather-light. “Robin wouldn’t let us go to bed. I was worried you fell asleep.”

You shook your head, managed a weak smile. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said. “Are you cold?” His warm fingertips ghosted the skin beneath the hem of your shorts, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.

You shivered, shook your head again, allowing your eyelids to go heavy as his other hand came to cradle to your cheek.

“Do you still want to do this?”

He had the power to see right through you, always had. You released a shaky breath, shoulders to your ears in a shrug. You swallowed. “I don’t know.” Honesty spilled out. You hadn’t felt this vulnerable with him since Louisville, not this nervous, not this jittery.

A crease tucked between his brows, and he dropped his hand from your thigh to catch your fingertips in his. “I’m not going to push you.”

“I know,” you squeezed his knuckles, hands dwarfing yours. “You never have.”

He smiled at that, nodded toward the bed. “Want to just hang out?”

You nodded and drew him to soft covers and an old mattress. It sunk under your weight, a burst of air puffing out between you as Steve plopped himself down, hands resting on his chest, hair splayed against patchwork. You were drawn to him, fingers itching to run themselves through his hair, to trace the bridge of his nose, connect-the-dots with his freckles, but you hesitated, tucking your knees to your chest.

He turned his head to look at you, lazy smile crossing beautiful, dark features. “I’m glad I sobered up.”

“Yeah?” You were on the fence.

“Yeah.” He groped around the blankets until he found your hand at your side. He massaged at your wrist, your palm, wide stroke with his thumb that smoothed aching joints and eased your mind. He pulled you ever-closer, before trailing your pointer finger over the bridge of his nose. His lashes fluttered closed, and he hummed as you painted his cheekbones with your fingertips, catching on the stubble of his jaw. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered. He brought your fingertips to his lip, soft and pink and damp. You exhaled his name.

He looked at you then, eyes dark, and placed a kiss to your palm, your wrist, the flesh of your forearm, tugging you gently from your fold until you leaned over him, your hair a curtain separating you both from the glow of the bedside lamp. “Do you want me to leave?”

Your throat was dry, your breath staggered. You shook your head.

Steve’s hands found your waist, smooth dregs of his palms up your ribcage until his thumbs met the underwire of your bra. “Do you want me to stay?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath when his hands worked higher, palming at silk and lace.

“I need to hear you say it, babe,” his voice was hoarse, thick.

You faltered on the pet name, a rule broken, his eyelids heavy, warm hands on your breasts, but you didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to worry or panic. So you washed it all away, pushed guilt to the back of your mind, and threw a leg over him to straddle his slender waist. “I want you, Steve.”

He sat up, pushing you both upright to drag the soft cotton of your top up and over your head. He groaned at the sight of you, and you felt his lips find purchase at the crux of your throat and shoulder, his mouth wet and warm.

You sunk your fingertips into his scalp, indulging in the vibrations of his voice against your skin.

He pushed the lacy straps down your arms, pressing soft kisses into the bits of flesh that were creased and red. He reached around to undo the clasp, and relief flooded your waist from where the elastic bit at your skin. You released him, allowing the scratchy fabric to fall to the ground at the bedside, and Steve lowered himself back to the mattress.

You felt self-conscious, suddenly, as he drank you in, hands ghosting the bits of your flesh that were marred or torn, burn-scarred, pock-marked. You wondered if you’d aged since he last saw you like this, if you had more wrinkles, more pudge, if the weight of you sank different onto his slender hips. You wondered if your boobs sagged, if the flesh of your thighs doubled over your panty line.

Steve’s eyes didn’t give anything away as he raked your frame, hands molding to you like they were meant to, and after too long of a moment, he spoke. “Shit, babe. My memory doesn’t do you justice. You’re fucking perfect.”

A chill caught on your spine, a chuckle of embarrassment building at the compliment, and you folded yourself back to him, squirming under the scrutiny. “You think about me often, Harrington?”

His nose brushed yours in a nod, and he palmed the swell of your thighs beneath your shorts, grinding you down onto him. “Every single day.”

The honesty stuttered your breath, his fanning your lips, and you knew if you didn’t back away now, you’d be lost to him. As he leaned forward to close the gap, you turned your head, cursing yourself when soft lips met your cheekbone.

You avoided his gaze, moving instead to press a kiss to his jaw. Stubble scratched your lips, you chin. You nosed at his throat until he turned his head, and you wrapped your lips to his soft earlobe, delighting in the rumble of his chest against yours.

His hips snapped into you once more, hardened length pressed to the inseam of your thigh.

“Then we better give you something to remember,” you hissed into his ear.

Before you could act on your promise, Steve had you rolled over, pinning you to the bed with his hips. His lips were on you, hands kneading, frantic, eager. He pressed himself upright to strip his t-shirt, collar first, and when it hit the ground, you both heard the pad of footsteps on the floorboards outside.

You froze, suddenly remembering where you were, who occupied the room all around you. Your pulse thundered in your skull, anxiety licking at every inch of you, until you felt Steve Harrington’s perfect teeth graze your nipple and everything coursed through you like livewire.

“Can you be quiet for me?” He hissed to your skin, gathering your wrists to pin above your head, and you gave a fervent nod, swallowing the saliva flooding your mouth.

Steve was trouble, danger, desperate kneading hands and the rhythmic snap of hips. He was brute strength and roped muscles and demanding. He worshiped and praised God and you and mumbled praises into the crux of your throat, your sternum, building you to the highest high before crashing down on you like a wave.

Even after all this time, he knew how to work you, how to mold you, bend you, command you in hushed tones, hand over your mouth to keep your sinful sounds from spilling between his fingers. He delighted in the challenge, wanted you begging but silent, asking if you wanted more, asking if it was good with his chin to your shoulder, your face buried into his to muffle your moans.

He was strong, confident, delicious, salt-to-the-wounds and salt of the Earth, and you fell apart on his hands, his lips, the crash of his hips like waves across a rocky shoreline. Your eyelids sparkled, the ceiling spotted with starlight, and you came down with the weight of his head on your chest.

Steve placed a chaste kiss to your collarbone and looked up at you, a smug grin etched upon his features. He rolled himself to the side, breath ragged. You closed your eyes and listened to the deep in-and-out, trying to match your inhales with his, to slow your heart rate, to stop the pulsing of every muscle now aching in your body.

“How was that?” He whispered into your neck, turning to wrap his arm tightly around your waist.

You huffed a laugh, shrugged. “Top five, at least.”

He gnawed at your throat and squeezed you tighter into him, both of your bodies sticky with sweat.

Sleep tempted you, darkening your vision, weighing you further and further into the warm squish of the mattress and your pillow. Steve’s breathing calmed against your back, his nose tucked under the shell of your ear, and you wondered if you’d fallen asleep so easily in the last four years.

Steve muttered your name, and you hummed, drifting on the edge of bliss. “I do still think about you every day.”

And you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t broken the spell, wish he hadn’t reminded you why you were here, what this was all about. The moonlight filtered in through treetops out the window beyond, and you tucked the blanket higher around your shoulders. Maybe there was no harm in late night truths whispered between lovers.

“The campsite wasn’t the best ever,” you confessed, voice weak. Steve loosened his cradle. You turned to face the ceiling, staring up at vaulted shadows. “Remember that first night in Louisville? I hadn’t seen you in so long, and we were tiptoeing around each other all night, but then the door’s closed in that elevator…”

Steve had propped himself up beside you, cupped your cheek. You felt the soft pad of his thumb against your lower lip. “I really want to kiss you.”

The only rule left to be broken, and your heart ached for it. You took a deep breath and avoided his gaze. You couldn’t do this to yourself again, couldn’t do it to him. It was selfish of both of you. You slipped from his grasp and out of the covers, digging through the dark for your t-shirt and sleep shorts. “The other’s will be awake soon.”

—

The sun cast the tops of your cheeks and nose in warmth, golden light filtering through your eyelids while you bathed in a lounger, allowing your Munson-special pancakes to settle. Your friends seemingly revived from breakfast, splashed a level below you, voices and laughter filtering up the wooden walkway. You battled the melancholy of your final full day with memories from the night before that had a smile aching at your lips.

You sighed and let your mind drift to the weight of Steve’s body against yours, the slam of his hips, the tight grasp of his hand to your wrists above your head.

“I’m heading up to take a shower,” his voice sliced through your daydream, graveled from a late night. “You guys need the bathroom before I go up?”

Nancy shook her head beside you, glancing up at him from above the sunglasses perched on the soft bridge of her nose.

Steve looked to you, and you squirmed under his gaze, shaking your own head with a smile. “Kay,” he smiled back. “Be back in a bit.” And you couldn’t resist in watching the slope of his thighs as he climbed the hill beside you to walk into the house.

“Holy fucking shit,” Nancy slammed her book down on her lounger.

You jumped and sat upright, glancing around you for something to cause her reaction, a giant bee, a severed arm.

“You slept with Steve.”

You halted your search and slowly met Nancy’s gaze. Her lips were pursed, and there was something twisted in the way she looked at you, like she was both pissed and proud she’d cracked the case.

You cowered under her gaze, picking at a sliver in the lounger, and fumbled through an excuse. “I don’t know what - ”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she snapped. “I saw him walking out of your room at 5AM when I got up to puke, and that little exchange you two just had confirmed it.” She waved her finger in the air to exemplify her point.

You felt your face heat. You didn’t appreciate the accusation in her tone. “Okay, so? We’re consenting adults.”

Nancy stuffed her arms under her armpits and turned to face you. “So are the two of you back together?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, the ragged rate of your breath speeding your pulse, or maybe it was the other way around. “No,” you huffed. “We’re just having fun while we’re here.”

Nancy rolled her eyes.

“Hey, no, don’t come at me with that. What about you and Jonathan, huh? Or should I say Robbie?” It was a low blow, and the moment it fell from your lips, you wish you could it all back.

Nancy sucked her lips between her perfect teeth and turned back in her sun lounger, hands flattening against her lower abdomen. “Yeah, well we learned our lesson, didn’t we?”

You blanched at the thought and shook your hair from your eyes. “Jesus, Nancy. I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

She didn’t respond for a long minute, looking out on the water, listening to the chirp of birds along the tree line. Then, she turned her head to face you, sun sparkling off the chrome tint of her sunglasses. “Do you remember that summer after Louisville? That night out on the Cape, just us girls?”

You barely remembered it, a drunken night out in a bar where everything smelled like the country club Steve’s parents frequented. You remembered sequins sticking to your face on a tiled floor. You remembered watching couples spin on a dance floor and wanting to splash your drink in the face of every single one of them. You remember feeling empty, broken, lost.

“I don’t think I realized how in love you two were before then.” She continued, turning back to sunbathe, as if this was the easiest breeziest of topics. “I mean, I knew you were close. You always spoke about him like family. And we all knew you were fucking, even though you tried to hide it.” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You swallowed.

“But that night’s when I realized how heartbroken you were.”

You closed your eyes, released a shaky breath, tried to maintain the happy memories that were quickly slipping from between your fingers, an anchor of your past traumas rocketing you to the bottom.

“I can’t begin to imagine how he felt.”

“Nancy,” you chided, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Come on,” she argued. “He won the fucking jackpot with you. Plus, he’d been burned too many times by other self-hating idiots to let himself get close enough to you. That’s why he never asked you to be his girlfriend, why he never left Hawkins to be with you. He was terrified you’d bail, and then he realizes he can’t live without you and what do you go and do?”

That hit somewhere deep, a dull ache that spread like hot liquid through your chest. “I didn’t…”

“Of course you didn’t know,” she muttered, offering an innocuous wave to Jonathan who swung his arms in the air from the level beneath you, perched atop Argyle’s shoulders in the shallow water, Robin atop Eddie. “You guys haven’t talked in four years. And it wasn’t my job to tell you. My job, as the best friend, is to tell you you don’t need him. That you’re strong and beautiful and independent. My job is to cheer you on through your accomplishments and listen about your escapades with new and exciting men.”

God, you loved her, and you didn’t want to cry because she was right, you were strong and confident and independent, and you didn’t want to cry because Nancy wouldn’t cry, but you couldn’t help the emotion damming at your throat.

“He was supposed to tell you all of this, but clearly you two are incapable of communication.” She sat upright in her chair again and scoffed. “You know what? No. You’re going to talk to him, right now.”

You blinked, heart racing at the idea. “What? No.”

Nancy stood from her seat and grabbed you around the elbow, hoisting you upright. “Yes, right now. I’ll distract everyone else. This can’t go on any longer, or we’re all going to implode. You’re going into that house, and you’re going to hear his side of it. Because we all know you won’t be able to make a decision until you do.”

—

The floorboards creaked under your weight, a groan at each step to remind you of where you were going. Your bare feet, sun soaked, stuck to the finish. A breeze caught gossamer window dressing, but did nothing for the slick of sweat beading your upper lip, the creases of your palm, your lower back. The steam from Steve’s shower framed the bathroom mirror and permeated the upper floor with his scent, squeaky clean and expensive.

Your hands trembled against the surface of his bedroom door. You heard the shuffle of fabric on the other side, and a low, soft hum. You’d almost forgotten that about him, the way he sang when he thought no one was around. If he had an ear worm, or just felt happy about something.

You took a deep breath, pressed your forehead to the door, and knocked.

“Yeah, come in,” he called, and then “Hello?” after your lengthy hesitation.

You turned the brass knob and entered, clicking the door behind yourself. Steve stood across the room, nearest the window, tugging at his watch straps again. His white t-shirt was speckled grey across his shoulders where his hair had dripped into a freckled pattern. When he saw you, his honeyed eyes lit with recognition, something hungry in them.

“Hi,” you managed, and there must have been sheer terror in your eyes because Steve’s face flashed with alarm, and he made a slow cross your way.

“What’s wrong?” His tone reminded you of too many late night phone calls, his voice keeping the nightmares at bay.

You swallowed, allowed him to lead you to the edge of the bed, felt his fingers slot into yours, tried to ignore how soothed you felt already. “We need to talk about Louisville.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before he turned his attention to your hand in his, tracing your knuckles, brushing a thumb over your nails. “What about it?”

“I want to know what happened,” you sighed, allowing yourself to flop backwards onto a hand knit throw, the mattress swishing beneath you. “I want to know where it all went wrong, why I lost you. I guess I just need some insight, Steve. Because I’ve been wracking my brain for four years trying to figure it out.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he sighed, and you saw his teeth chew on his bottom lip. Then he brought his nail beds to his mouth, a bad habit from his youth.

You stopped his wrist, pulling his hand back into yours. “You were my best friend, and then you just quit calling.” You don’t think you’d let the hurt sink in until that moment, heard it catch in your vocal chords. You stared at the ceiling, a blur of white plaster and amber beams.

“I thought you didn’t want me to,” his voice was just as small as yours.

You shrugged, didn’t let the wobble in your jaw deter you. “We had fights before, bigger than this one. I figured we’d get over it.”

“You told me you didn’t want to marry me.”

You propped yourself on your elbows to face him. “Steve, come on. You weren’t serious. You didn’t want to marry me, not really. You were just at that stage in your life where you thought that’s what was supposed to happen.”

He rolled his eyes, shook his head, pulling his hand from yours to run through his damp hair. Flecks of water marked your skin. “Will you quit saying that? Quit invalidating my feelings like that. I didn’t just want to settle down out of convenience. That’s always bugged the shit out of me.” He snapped.

You barked a laugh, wry. “Okay, you had feelings for me. I get that. You know I love you too, but you can’t just spring a marriage proposal on a girl because she’s naked in your hotel bed. You didn’t even have a ring.”

Steve stared back at you for a long moment, and something in his eyes excited you. You hadn’t sparred in ages, hadn’t talked your genuine feelings out with your best friend in four years.

“Fuck it,” he said and stood from his seat beside you to cross to his opened suitcase, everything neatly folded and tucked inside. “If I show you this, you have to promise me you won’t say a word until I’m done talking. Alright?” He held something behind his back and pointed a finger your direction. “Not a God damn word.”

You rolled your eyes but held three fingers his direction and pretended to zip your lips. Then you caught a little black box he tossed at you. Your heart began to thunder in your chest, fingers trembling around velvet. You blinked at it a few times before looking back at him.

Steve was stone faced, if not a little pale, and his arms were crossed over his chest like he was waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he took a step forward, and then back, shifting weight on the balls of his feet. Then, he gestured to the box in your hand, a curse spilling from his lips. “I bought it the second day,” he said, “in Louisville.”

You couldn’t move, breath short, hands a vice grip on the box in your lap, terrified to look at it.

“We had that first night, the one you mentioned with dinner at that cantina, and we took that long walk past all those big houses, and I felt like I was holding my breath all day. And I can hold my breath for a long time, I’m a damn good swimmer. But sometimes with you, it feels like I’m drowning.”

You could remember every second of that night, had thought about it a thousand times, compared every date to it, hell every happy moment.

“And I think I just realized I couldn’t tread water with you anymore. Sink or swim, Harrington,” he groaned, scrubbing his hand down a freshly shaven face. “So the next day, while you were at your conference, I went to a jewelry store and bought that.”

Once again, your attention was drawn to the tiny box in your hands, and although your curiosity was piqued, you were still too terrified to open it.

“I chickened out pretty much the entire weekend. I think I just didn’t want to ruin the fun, and then on that last morning, I panicked. I freaked the fuck out because we were going home, and I didn’t want to be away from you anymore. So I said what I said, and we fought, and I kicked myself the whole way home.”

You were glad you’d promised not to speak, glad you’d zipped your lips, because you didn’t think you had words anyway. Too many thoughts and emotions and memories zooming through your headspace like speedboats, leaving casualties in their wake.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to Argyle’s wedding,” his voice was soft, and his arms found their spot across his chest once more. “I know I promised you I’d go, but I think dancing with you at someone else’s wedding felt like a twisted joke.”

You swallowed, nodded.

“Please don’t think I brought it here because I thought I could win you back, or whatever,” he hurried as an afterthought. “I honestly wasn’t sure what would happen this week. I was shitting myself that I’d somehow make everything worse, which maybe I have.”

You shook your head.

“I just keep it in my suitcase,” he gestured to the box again. “I don’t care what you do with it now. Hock it, pawn it, chuck it into the lake. You know, do what you want with it because it’s yours. It always has been.”

You watched as he crossed to you, taking a slow and awkward seat beside you, just beyond your reach.

“That it,” he sighed, shoulders slumped. “That’s my piece, I guess. You can talk now. Or not, if you don’t want. No pressure. At all, about any of this,” he glanced around the room. “If you want to go back to the way things were, I totally understand. I meant it when I said I just wanted a truce for this week. We agreed you reserve the right to live your own life.”

“No,” you croaked. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “I don’t want that. I mean, I want you in my life.”

The corners of his lips turned up at that, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Me too.”

“This is all just…” You clasped the box until your knuckles whitened, just to stop the trembling. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Steve stood from next to you. “I’ll give you a few minutes, or you know, whatever you need. I uh… I actually think I need some air.” He thumbed to the door.

You stood on shaky legs, nodding. “Yeah, me too. Water, I think, might be good.”

“Totally,” he held the door open for you, and the two of you walked side-by-side to the top of the stairs. The floor groaned beneath your feet.

“Come find me later?” His voice was soft, warm, forehead creased with concern.

You smiled, nodded, and watched as his lanky frame retreat down the staircase and out the front door.

—

A batch of cookies baked in the oven, caramelized brown sugar and butter permeated the air. Three other cookie sheets sat prepped at the ready on the countertop nearby. You’d washed and dried your mixing bowls and measuring cups and hung the apron on its hook inside the pantry door. Your glass of lemonade lay untouched, glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

The small black box rolled in your pruned fingertips, and you glanced around the kitchen for any signs of onlookers before cracking open the seal, hinge groaning, for a peak at what rested within the pink satin lining.

You nearly dropped it, throwing your hand to your lips to contain the gasp that rattled when you saw the perfect diamond in its fitting on the perfect, most delicate little band. It was everything you would have wanted, subtle and sleek and sweet. You wondered if you had mentioned the details, mumbled into Steve’s chest after a night out, senses liquored and secrets spilled.

Or maybe he just knew you, better than anyone else could.

You glanced around the empty house once more before risking to pull it out of its casing and slide it over the summer-swollen knuckles of the ring finger on your left hand. It was the perfect fit, sparkling in honeyed sunlight, casting rainbows against the cabinets and countertops.

“Smells amazing in here, dudette,” Argyle entered the small kitchen.

“Thanks,” you choked a laugh, shoving your hands behind your back to greet him. “How’s dinner coming?”

“Good, good,” he bobbed his head, long hair swishing against a broad chest. He sidled up to the counter opposite you. “Came here to check on you though. It’s our last day. It’s not the same without you.”

“I know,” you smiled, waving at the cookies with your right hand. “Let me finish these up, and I’ll be right out.”

“Sure,” he saw right through you, a grin forming beneath his mustache, a glint in his eye. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’m here for you.”

The honesty there cut deep. You nodded, wondered how much he knew, felt guilty for not telling him more, or for taking too much vacation time with your petty drama.

“Can I tell you a story about me and Eden?” His eyes lit up when he spoke of her, a big grin formed across soft features.

You nodded again, toyed with the ring around your finger behind your back. “Please.”

He scratched an itch at his mustache, and you saw him twist his own ring around his finger, gold, outdated, oversized. “Remember that day in the military tent? When we were all waiting for orders, and Steve pulled you in so we could explain what the Hell was going on?”

You swallowed. You’d never forget that day, though you were grateful you thought about it less and less as time went on.

“Sorry to bring it up,” Argyle nodded, held a hand up in apology. “I only do because I remember it more vividly than any of those days. I mean, I was high for a lot of everything before, and everything after felt like one big firefight. But I remember that day specifically because you lost your mom and Steve brought you into that tent, and he just held you.”

The emotion that had been rising all day started to spill, a causeway that rolled warm down your cheeks, and you were frantic to stop the flow, trying to push back those awful memories, the flashes of orange and camo, Steve’s strong arms wrapped around your collapsing body, knees gave way. You nodded to encourage Argyle to keep going, to reassure you were okay.

He reached a hand out anyway, pulled you into the cushion of his shoulder, rubbed at your arm. “We were all so young and so dumb, and I just wanted to go home.”

You sniffled and hugged around his middle because you understood.

“Not home to Lenora, but home to this girl I met a week earlier with brown hair and brown eyes because the moment I saw her, I knew I’d do anything for her. I wanted her to hold me the way Steve held you.”

Home, this place you’d always had in Steve Harrington, a place you always would.

“That’s the day I realized she was my one-and-only.” He always waxed so poetic about his wife, and until this moment you’d always rolled your eyes with fondness for the man. Until this moment, you never really understood. “Are you picking up what I’m laying down?”

You nodded, laughed wetly. “I think so.”

The wrap of knuckles against the doorframe grabbed your attention, and you looked up to find Eddie. His hair was frizzy from air dry, and he looked impossibly lanky in a black tank top and red shorts, and the handsome smile from his face fell when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Everything okay in here?”

Your heart sank.

“All good, my dude, just talking to her about my beautiful wife,” Argyle gave you one more tight squeeze before releasing you to stand at his full height. He gave you a wink before pushing past Eddie to head back outside to be with the rest of your friends.

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, the breeze trailing in to float his air from his eyes. You weren’t sure how to start, what you could say to make it right, but you didn’t have to.

Eddie let out a whistle, long and low, and crossed the room to meet you. “I always knew Harrington had good taste.” Before you realized you were fidgeting with your ring, he took your hand into his, holding it up to catch the light like you had done earlier.

You swallowed, watching the subtle hurt etched between his brows. Eddie Munson, heart on his sleeve. You whispered his name.

He shrugged, dimples poking through his goatee, and shook his hair from his eyes. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it. I just want you both happy.” He ducked his head then, inches from yours. “Are you happy?”

You thought to all of the friends that had held you throughout this week, throughout the past twelve years, throughout your life, and you nodded, fighting back the new tears that threatened to spill.

Eddie caught them with the calloused pad of his thumb, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

“I know,” you laughed, closing your eyes as he pressed soft lips to your forehead.

“You know? Wow. A bit full of yourself, sweetheart,” he teased, and you swatted at him. He dodged your aim and grabbed you by the waist to pull you into a bone-crushing hug, jaw pressed to your temple.

“I love you too,” you whispered into his neck, cigarette and spice and sunscreen.

“Have you told him yet?”

You froze, shook your head.

The egg timer went off, shrill and loud, and in that exact moment, under the honeyed glow of the late afternoon summer sun, with the room smelling of your mom’s chocolate chip cookies, you felt like she was sending you a sign.

Your hands shook, and you mopped at the tears in your eyes and pointed at the oven. “Can you take those out?” You asked Eddie, breathless, heart thundering in your chest.

His lips split into that Cheshire grin, and he waved you off. “Go get him, sweetheart.”

The rubber of your soles squeaked against every wooden step on your way down. The patio was empty, sounds of splashes and crackled firewood and laughter could be heard from the shore, and when you rounded the little tin roof beach hut, you saw your friends, your family, roasting kababs and drinking beer and smiling. Nancy and Robin shared a log to sit on, while the boys stood around the grill with hands in their pockets, breeze ruffling their shirts. The smell of ash and smoke and meats rose to your nostrils, something that just felt like another sign.

Steve was the closest to you, his back turned, broad shoulders in navy blue, running his hand through his hair. You hit sand and called his name, and he turned to face you with a squinted gaze, hand up to see your approaching figure.

You closed the gap in four strides, dragging him down by the collar to press your lips to his, the final rule broken.

A sound of surprise turned low when the realization hit, and you felt his hands snake around your waist and hips, lifting you on the balls of your feet to kiss him deeper. Your hands found his hair, one of his cupped your cheek, and all at once you felt at home. Once lost at sea, now you’d found your mooring.

You breathed a laugh that mirrored his, the tip of his nose pressed to your cheek, and it wasn’t until the ringing in your ears stopped that you noticed the ruckus of friends around you.

“Is that a diamond ring!?” Robin screeched somewhere behind Steve.

You sucked back a smile and pulled your hand from Steve’s hair to admire the ring on your finger. Steve looked back at you glassy eyed, mouth open to speak without words. You shrugged, smiled, allowed the diamond to sparkle in the sunlight.

“Yeah, I guess it - ” You were cut-off when Steve planted another kiss on you, lifting you into his arms.

—

The windows had been closed for the night, pale yellow curtains no longer flowing in the breeze. Your hair smelled of campfire, and your eyelids grew heavy from an eventful day. You were full of kabobs and Mom’s chocolate chip cookies, and you squished onto the tiny couch between Steve and Robin, who were flicking each other inches above your head.

“You’re both children,” you snorted, swatting their hands away as they began to flick you instead.

“Wheeler, are you crying?” Eddie’s voice turned all of your attention quickly to Nancy, who sat between Jonathan’s legs, mopping at the tops of her freckled cheeks.

“No, fuck off, Munson,” she scoffed.

You scrambled to sit upright, leaning across the coffee table to take her hand in your own. Jonathan gripped you both. “What’s up?” You bit back a smile, seeing Nancy’s eyes roll in annoyance at being the center of attention for something she’d rather keep private.

“I just never thought we’d be here.” She sighed.

“Yeah, Kurtis was really generous leaving his house with a bunch of assholes like us,” Robin agreed.

“Shut up,” Nancy groaned when you all laughed. “I just meant… after all this time, I’m really glad I still have you guys.”

“Can’t get rid of us that easy, Nance,” Steve grinned, swinging an arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him with a sigh.

“It’s true, dude. We’re like parasites,” Argyle piped in, mouth full of cookie.

You tried not to let her words seep in, tried desperately to tread water, to fight back the current of emotions that prickled when you realized you didn’t know the next time you’d all be together like this. Robin was off to France. Nancy and Jonathan had their own adventures, baby in tow. Argyle lived across the country.

You met Eddie’s gaze, warm browns and Cheshire smile. “Besides, we’ll all be together again soon. I heard there’s going to be a wedding in Hawkins.”

You cocked a brow, ready to retort, but Steve beat you to the punch.

“Hard to plan a wedding in a place we don’t live.”

---

A/N: This fic was definitely a labor of love for me. I actually had this planned before I wrote My Whole Life, Too. And I have so many other details of their lives and pasts that I'd love to dive back into. Thank you so so so much for reading xo xo

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#better off fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #robin buckley #jancy #argyle #eden bingham

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walker-bait-1973 · 8 months

Text

8 Years Part One

Photo Edit by Me

A Daryl Dixon/ Sybil Tremont Fanfiction (Daryl x OC)

Background information: It’s assumed the reader knows the world of TWD. This Fanfic takes place after Alexandria, Hilltop, Oceanside, and the Kingdom are established and at the height of success. Carl is dead. The communities are bound by a doctrine created by Michonne. Rick is presumed dead. Daryl and Michonne never lost hope and searched for several years for Rick without luck. Daryl had a short relationship with Leah. The Saviors disbanded with Negan in a jail cell in Alexandria. The Whisperers have been defeated, and Lydia is a valued member of the Hilltop homestead.

18+

Daryl x OC (Female)

Warnings: Violence, Alcohol, Slow Burn, Fluff, Smut

Part Two

Master List

Chapter 1: Caramel

The summer of 1990 was a record-breaker for heat. The sun shone brighter than ever by early June. While people around Atlanta were finding ways to keep cool, Merle Dixon along with his younger brother Daryl, and their motorcycle gang pulled into the local 7-11 to get some ice-cold brews. They were headed to Pine Lake for a party. Merle and two of his buddies went inside for drinks.

“Hey Merle, get some snacks too!” Daryl yelled after him. Merle shot him the middle finger, laughed, and went inside. Daryl lit up a cigarette. As he listened to the group talking and laughing, a small group of young ladies walked past them. Daryl’s attention averted to have a gander at these five women. One, in particular, stood out to him. She was a curvaceous woman, with an ample chest, wide hips, and thick thighs. Her long ebony curls bounced in a neat ponytail as she walked in flip-flops with painted red toenails. She was wearing a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts that hugged her apple-shaped bottom. Her skin was a delicious shade of caramel, tanned from the hot sun no doubt. Her red halter top complimented the shade well. As she passed him he said, “Hot day.”

She nodded curtly, eyeing the pale-skinned man in the grey tank top as her friends giggled and they went into the store. She stopped for a moment to look over her shoulder at him, “You better watch yourself, you’re gonna get burned.”

He smiled slyly and playfully smacked Terry in the chest as the automatic door swung shut, “damn!”

“She’s outta your league, Daryl.” Terry chuckled as Daryl rubbed his dirty blonde goatee. He was already plotting what to do next.

“Naw… she ain’t.” He took a breath before heading into the convenience store himself. Terry looked at Buck and sniggered.

Inside, Daryl could hear Merle’s loud voice back by the beer cooler laughing with Sam and Joe. He casually walked down one aisle with low shelves, spying on the girls over by the Slurpee machine comparing flavors. He paused by the snacks and perused the various chips, raising his eyes often to watch the girls as they laughed and poured themselves the thick icy beverage. He glanced back praying his brother wouldn’t come up while he made his move. He walked to the girls and said, “Hey, ‘s y’ flavor?”

“Caramel” sucked slowly on her straw before saying, “Cherry.” A pair of large green eyes framed with long lashes lifted to look at him. He felt his insides turn to mush, as a boyish grin crossed his face.

He followed her outside and as she started walking away with her friends he called out, “’s yer name?”

Looking over her rounded shoulder, “Sybil.”

From that moment on, he was hooked.

Chapter 2: The Receipt

Alexandria

Daryl rolled over, restless in his bed. He heard footsteps thudding on the basement ceiling. Judith and RJ must be over for breakfast. He sat up, Dog instantly licking his face.

“Down, boy…” he grunted. Dog jumped to the floor and waited patiently by the back door for his morning walk. Daryl shirked into some clothes, donned his boots, and opened the door. Dog ran out into the dew-covered grass behind the house to do his duties. Daryl whistled, beckoning for Dog to join him as he walked down the road toward the Alexandria main gate.

Rosita and Aaron were up on the platform, keeping watch for possible trouble.

“Good Morning, Daryl!” Aaron called out. Daryl waved quietly and moved along, toward the community center where many of the residents chose to eat together. He walked in, nabbed a fresh loaf of bread, and returned to Carol’s house.

“Good morning Uncle Daryl!” Judith exclaimed running to him as soon as he closed the door.

“Mornin’ Jude,” he answered as she hugged him around the waist. He put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her in return. RJ joined them and gave Daryl a high five.

“Come on, Judith… RJ… let’s get you fed before classes.”

“Y’ heard Aunt Carol… c’mon and get to the table.” Daryl grabbed a knife and started cutting up the bread for toast. Carol served the kids fresh scrambled eggs, apple slices, and orange juice. They munched on the yummy food while Carol poured Daryl his first cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter sipping it, his mind wandering.

He went weeks before he saw Sybil again. This time, she was at a grocery store as a cashier. What luck Daryl had! He spotted her immediately as he carried the armloads of food to the register. He decided to go through her line, affording him a great opportunity to talk to her again.

“Have a nice day,” she was saying as she handed the receipt over to the customer in front of him.

He scratched the back of his neck as she started cashing him out, “find everything you were looking for?” She lifted her eyes, a smile on her face, dimples adorning her cheeks.

“Naw…”

“No? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Sure. Y’all could give me y’ number.”

She chuckled, “You’re mighty confident.”

“’ Member me?”

“Not sure that I do,” she replied, toying with him. There was no way Sybil could forget those deep-set blue eyes and that handsome face.

“I can make it so y’ never f’get me again.” He leaned on the conveyor belt, stopping it.

“Oh yeah?”

There was a line forming behind him.

“You’re right I’ll never forget you if you get me fired,” she feigned being cross.

“Give me y’ number an’ I’ll pay m’ total.”

“I don’t even know your name,” she said, “that will be twenty-eighty-seven.”

He pulled out thirty bucks. When she returned his change, she handed him his receipt.

“Daryl. M’ name’s Daryl.”

She smirked, “have a nice day, Daryl.”

He grabbed his bag, frowning. As he put his change in his pocket, he realized she’d written a phone number on the back of the receipt.

She winked at him and started on her next customer’s order.

“… Daryl?”

Daryl looked up from his mug at Carol, “Huh?”

“I asked what your plans were for today. Where were you just now?”

He shook his head, “Nowhere. ‘M thinkin’ of takin’ a ride t’ Hilltop.”

“Yeah? If so, could you take a few things for me? I made Maggie some curtains for Hershel’s room in the Barrington House, and there are some parts that Eugene needs for the radio.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, get t’ stuff t’gether n’ I’ll take it w’ me.”

He took a plate of eggs and set it on the floor for Dog. Dog chowed down while Daryl munched on a piece of toast.

“Alright, go get washed up and Uncle Daryl will walk you to school on his way out.”

“Okay,” Judith looked at her younger brother, “get your stuff.”

Once Daryl delivered the kids to class, he and Dog ambled to the gate where Carol was waiting for him. He shouldered his pack and strapped the box of things to take down on his motorcycle. Carol squeezed his shoulder, “You have a safe trip, okay? Tell everyone I say hello. Oh, and I nearly forgot. Judith wrote Hershel a letter.” She slipped it into his hand. Daryl smiled.

“I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Chapter 3: Lending A Hand

Hilltop

Daryl sped into Hilltop, Dog in tow, and parked close to the barn. He got several waves from various community members and was warmly greeted by Maggie. She wrapped her arms around him for a big hug, “Been a long time, stranger,” she remarked, squeezed his shoulder, and knelt to pet Dog.

“Too long,” Daryl confessed, nodding in acknowledgment toward Jesus and Tara.

“Damn right it’s been too long,” Tara piped up, “tell us, what’s everyone been up to?”

“Y’ know,” he shrugged, “same old. Ain’t much t’ tell.” He patted his jacket pocket, “Got somethin’ f’ Hershel though.” He pulled out the envelope and handed it to Maggie.

“A letter from Judith?” She ran her fingers over the front of the makeshift envelope.

“Mhm. Seems they’re becomin’ pretty good pen pals,” He smiled.

“They are. It won’t be long, they’ll be on the radio talkin’. I think Hershel has a lil’ crush,” Maggie’s toothy grin spread.

Daryl grunted, “I got stuff f’ Eugene too.”

“He’s up in the attic monkeying with things, I’ll run it up to him,” Jesus said knowing full well how Eugene liked to talk people’s ears off, and Daryl was more of a quiet man.

“Thanks f’ that,” Daryl remarked looking around, “Where’s Connie?”

“She’s at Oceanside with Kelly and Luke. I know you’re disappointed,” Maggie teased.

“I’ll catch her soon ‘nough.” He shrugged, “’m here now. What can I do t’ help out?”

“We have a few cabins to build. Wanna help with that?”

“Sure,” he nodded, walking with Maggie to the area of expansion past the orchards. He was greeted by Alden, one of the blacksmiths, who was delivering a box of nails.

“Daryl, good to have you here,” Alden smiled, handing him a hammer.

“Jus’ tell me where t’ go.”

He pointed to one of the cabins already in progress. Daryl joined in immediately. As he worked with the others, it wasn’t long before he was sawing logs, roofing, and throwing himself into the job at hand. Daryl didn’t mind hard work. When the frame of the cabin was finished, he felt a sense of accomplishment and moved onto the exterior walls.

When he paused to take a cigarette break, he spotted Lydia making her way over to him. She had a wide smile on her face, her long black hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Elijah was holding her hand, the same goofy smile on his face. Daryl smirked. Young’uns.

“We brought you some water. You’ve been working hard,” Lydia handed him a canteen.

“Thanks,” he said, swishing the cold liquid in his mouth. Felt cool and refreshing on this warm Spring day.

“We were going to head to Alexandria for a visit, but now seeing as you’re here, we won’t leave until you do. If you don’t mind.”

“Naw could use the company,” he answered, patting her shoulder.

“Great! I miss everyone. And I wanted to see Negan.”

Frowning, “What y’ need t’ see him for? He ain’t no good, Lydia.”

“I know his past, and I know how you feel about him-”

“You don’t know all ‘bout that sumbitch.” Daryl never talked with anyone in his family about what transpired when he was held prisoner at Negan’s compound, Sanctuary. Tortured, starved, stripped down for humiliation…

“I suppose I don’t. But he stuck up for me when those kids attacked me. If it weren’t for him, I might not be here. I don’t need you to understand it, but I won’t sneak around to talk to him.”

Daryl had to give her credit for being so upfront about her connection with Negan. It was true that he helped her one night when three members of Alexandria ganged up on her. It was also true that one ended up dead at Negan’s hand. It was an accident, but with Negan’s history, it nearly got him lynched.

“I don’t understand it, an’ I don’t like it. But I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

That’s one thing Lydia admired about Daryl – he didn’t treat her like a little girl. He talked to her as if she was an adult, and she respected that. Too many people tried to treat her like a child. She was seventeen, and beyond her years in many ways.

Daryl tossed her back the canteen, “Back t’ work. Y’ know, y’all could help out. Get done a lot faster.”

“I can swing a hammer,” Elijah smirked, “I’m gonna help out.”

“I’ve got some other things to do, but then I’ll be back over.” Lydia kissed Elijah before leaving. Elijah blushed and cleared his throat.

“C’mon,” Daryl spoke up, “ ‘s getcha that hammer.”

Chapter 4: First Date

(One Week Later) Daryl drove up to the house where Sybil lived. Already outside, she’d been waiting for him. She laughed when he turned off his motorcycle.

“I just knew you were going to show up on that thing.”

Daryl looked down at the bike, “’s my ride.”

She nodded, “Oh yeah… it’s your ride alright. I’ve never been on one before.”

“Well, y’all will have the time o’ yer life then.” He smiled. She walked over in a pair of tight-fitted jeans, her hips swaying practically mesmerizing him.

“Interesting way to start a first date,” She commented, sliding on behind him. Her hands went to his waist, clutching tight as he kicked the motor on and took off down the street.

“Shouldn’t we have helmets?” She called into the wind. Daryl swung the bike onto the main road.

“Naw… yer fine.”

She laughed, “As I said before, you’re mighty confident.”

Daryl enjoyed the feeling of her behind him, her hands tightening their grip. He lowered his left hand and pulled one of her arms around him tighter.

“You’re bold,” she remarked, but slid her other arm around, locking her hands in front of his stomach.

“So are ya.”

They drove along Pine Lake, one of the first places he could think of to take her. When they got off the bike she said, “You’ve got me alone, in the woods. Should I be afraid?”

“I didn’t keep y’ alive on that bike only t’ kill ya in the woods,” He smirked. She laughed. It was music to his ears; so light and genuine.

“Been t’ Pine Lake ‘fore?”

“Oh yes. This is the main hang-out spot. You?”

“Come here a bit.”

They walked a trail along the east side of the lake, quiet at first.

“So that gang you’re with…” she finally cut the silence as she studied the trees, “been with them long?”

Daryl shrugged, “yeah. They’re kinda family. My big brother Merle started hangin’ out w’ some guys an’ it went from there.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Just one,” he teased.

“Ha ha,” she rolled her eyes.

“’ Bout twenty or so. Why?”

She shrugged, “Just curious.”

She pulled a leaf off a branch and twirled it between her fingers.

“Y’ thinkin’ ‘m gonna be trouble?”

“I don’t know… are you?”

“Maybe,” he stopped walking and pointed, “look,” he whispered, “a doe.”

She squinted, “Where?”

He extended his arm with his fingertip pointing, “Between them two birch trees. See her?”

After a few moments, Sybil smiled brightly, “I do. She’s beautiful. You have a keen eye.”

Daryl shrugged, “maybe.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the woods?”

“Quite a bit. How ‘bout ya?”

“I love nature, but no… I haven’t been camping since I was a kid.”

“Yer missin’ out.”

“I suppose I am.”

“C’mon, I wanna show y’ somethin’.”

“Okay.”

They continued casually down the trail until he veered off it, onto an unbeaten path.

“Okay, now I know you’re going to kill me,” she teased.

“C’mon,” he rolled his eyes. They came to some tall rocks, “Up f’ a lil’ climbin’?”

Hands on hips she looked up at the rocks, “Should I have worn hiking boots?”

“Naw… them shoes are fine.”

She looked down at her vans and was thankful she’d chosen them.

“Alright. Let’s go. Show me the way.”

“It ain’t gonna be as hard as it looks. Found an easy way to get up there.” He motioned for her to follow. He went around the right-hand side of the stone goliaths.

“See here,” he pointed in front of him and upward, “almost like someone made a trail in them rocks.”

“They look like they have stepping stones cut into them.”

He started up the incline, turning around every so often to make sure she was still behind him. She was eagerly bringing up the rear, keeping close.

“’s is the hard part,” he said, reaching for her hand, “lemme help y’ up the rest o’ the way.”

She took his hand and he pulled just enough to get her over the final ledge. She took a breath and looked down behind her whistling, “We are up high.”

He nodded, “Higher than it looks from down there.”

She noticed a singed area and a pile of wood.

“You come here often?”

He nodded, “’s m’ place t’ getaway. C’mere… an’ look.”

She joined him on the opposite side of the rocks and looked out. What a sight to behold. She could see the large lake in its entirety from this vantage point, and the multitude of trees on the other side. The sun was bright in the sky. She felt as if she could reach out and touch it. The rays warmed her face. She turned to look at Daryl. His blue eyes were studying her, gauging her reaction. The humongous smile on her face was enough for him. He was convinced that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Daryl rolled to his side and stared into the darkness inside the hay mound sighing. He didn’t sleep much, to begin with. And even less since the world fell. Thinking of her made it near impossible. He sat up while Dog rustled through the hay to rest his head in Daryl’s lap. He brusquely pet the dog's head. Dog whined. He’d been with Daryl so long that he could read his emotions.

“S’ alright, boy. ‘ll get through it. Always do.” He got to his feet, stretched, and said, “C’mon. ‘S go f’ a walk.” Daryl and Dog made their rounds, checking the sentinels on the wall, joining them for a bit to watch for walkers or marauders.

“You’re up early,” Cal commented, shaking out his foot that fell asleep.

Daryl shrugged, “Always am. Don’t need much sleep.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dixon,” Cal continued.

Diane looked over at the two men, “Be thankful Daryl doesn’t sleep much. He’s saved a lot of our asses more than once because of it.”

Cal knew it was true and agreed, “Oh I know he has. It’s just when I manage to have some time to rest, I conk out. Sometimes for half a day.”

People meandered about as the sun rose, and Daryl found himself back to work at the cabins.

“You know, there’s always one of those here for you,” Jesus said, holding up a board to be nailed.

Daryl said, “Hate t’ take a place from someone else. I don’t mind the hay mound or a tent. ‘M easy.”

“So have you completely set down roots in Alexandria?”

Daryl shrugged, “Dunno if I set roots down anywhere.” The truth was the man had huge bouts of wanderlust and couldn’t sit still for too long before needing to be out in the wild again. He went with Aaron sometimes to look for more people to bring back to the communities. He brought messages from one community to the next. He also liked to provide food, go on scavenging runs; anything to keep himself busy.

People that knew him knew he was this way. They noticed a big change when Rick infamously blew up the bridge that was to connect everyone to save his people.

Daryl disappeared for three years. During his search for Rick, he met a woman by the name of Leah. No one knew about the affair he’d had with her except Carol. Dog had discovered an old house that seemed abandoned one day during their travels. But it wasn’t empty. That’s when he found an ornery woman living there that didn’t want him anywhere around her land. After about a year they began to talk, her more than him, and in a few more months they shared food. After that Daryl realized how lonely he was; one thing led to another and the two became involved. It didn’t last long. Daryl pulled away for several reasons: he wanted to continue looking for Rick, and he couldn’t allow himself to feel what he once felt for Sybil. When he was with Leah, she knew he was far away in his mind: thinking about his brother, and she had no idea what else. He couldn’t open up to her. That took years and trust. Something he knew he could never have with her. She put conditions on him and gave him ultimatums.

“It’s your brother or me.”

“It’s your family or me.” He was not a man who responded well to conditions. He wasn’t about to choose a woman that wanted all or nothing. So he walked away, never looking back.

Chapter 5: The Race

After two weeks of working on cabins, several were finished thanks to the hard labor everyone put in. Daryl wanted to reward them all with some venison, so he decided he’d head out before the light of day to hunt.

Dog stayed in step with Daryl as they silently made their way through the forest. He’d seen deer droppings which decided the direction they would go. Tell-tale signs of a foraging deer were seen everywhere if you were observant enough. Daryl was a master of tracking. He held his breath as soon as he saw the three-point, lifted his crossbow, aimed, and fired. The arrow hit its mark between the front shoulder and the ribcage, piercing the heart. The deer dropped where it stood, feeling no pain. Just the way Daryl liked it. No suffering.

He set to work right away field dressing the internal organs before he heard the groans of Walkers coming from the left.

“Shit,” he muttered, hefting the deer over his shoulders, “c’mon Dog,” he called, quickly making his exit. The organs would keep the few Walkers busy. At least enough for him to get safely away.

He returned at dusk with his prize, congratulated by many, and thanked personally by Maggie.

“Can’t have them people be veg’tarians,” Daryl teased, taking it to hang out back.

“Oh no, too many vegetables will make the people weak,” Maggie teased. Daryl eyed her between his curtains of bangs, a smirk on his face.

“They’ll appreciate it to be sure. We can do a lot with poultry and beef…”

“But there ain’t nothin’ like venison,” he cut in.

She nodded, “Right.”

They heard kids laughing and spotted Hershel and the other kids playing with Dog. Dog of course loved all the attention.

“Seems good to have them bein’ kids, huh?” Maggie asked, sighing. She had to dig deep to remember the days of misspent youth and no fear. Riding horses with her sister Beth, playing in the fields, and nights catching fireflies.

Daryl nodded as he shoved his bloodied hands into a basin of water, “Mhm… they ain’t had it so good, growin’ up too fast ‘cause t’ way t’ world turned out.” He dried his clean hands on a rag and watched the kids for a bit, a small smile on his face.

“Can’t catch me dog,” Marigold yelled out, her laugh echoing through the trees.

(August) ”You’ll never catch me, Daryl!” Sybil yelled, swimming faster out towards the floating dock in the middle of the lake. Daryl however was an experienced swimmer and was soon closing in on her. The thrill of the chase caused Sybil to start laughing and slowed her down in speed. Daryl slowed his pace, waiting for her to gain her wits and start moving faster again. Soon her hands were touching the dock.

“Damn, y’ got away,” he said, holding the edge of the dock with his hands. She splashed him playfully.

“I know you let me win.”

“Did no such thing.”

She giggled, “Okay… deny it all you want.” She caressed his damp cheek, “I’ll still give you your reward,” she moved closer and kissed his wet lips before pulling up onto the dock. Daryl could feel his stomach flip flop and his heart quicken in reaction to her affection. It was their first kiss. His cheeks reddened and he pulled up onto the dock next to her, their feet dangling in the water. He’d been pursuing her avidly for several months. His first thoughts of just wanting to bed the woman passed once he realized there was so much more to her than just a beautiful body. She had spunk, a clever mind, and kept him on his toes. He’d never met anyone like her before. Sybil seemed to enjoy her time with him, and this kiss just solidified what he was hoping for. He knew that other guys were trying to get her attention, he wasn’t blind. But the more she accepted offers of dates from him, the less concerned he became with them.

She laid back on the dock, the sun’s rays kissing her wet skin. Her hair spread out above her head like a dark halo. Her red one-piece showed plenty but left just the right amount covered to let the imagination run wild.

Daryl chewed his lip for a moment, “Sybil…”

“Mhm?” She hummed, shielding her eyes from the bright sky as she looked his way.

“’S a band playin’ at a bar next weekend. A local band… thought maybe y’all would like t’ go.”

“What kind of music?” she asked him curiously.

“Heavy stuff. Ain’t no room for country shit.”

She grinned, “You’ve got yourself a plus one then. I think it would be a lot of fun.” The idea of being squished in close to her was on his mind. He was still a man after all.

“Rememberin’ the good old days?” Maggie asked. Daryl stopped chewing his lip.

“Gonna go find somethin’ t’ do.”

Chapter 6: Scavenging Parts

“Hey, Daryl…” Jesus caught up with the archer after morning chores, “Eugene needs some parts for the solar panel he’s been working on and gave me directions to a place he thinks I can find those parts. Wanna ride with me, help me out?”

Daryl nodded as he finished brushing a horse down, “be ready in a few. Lemme finish up here.”

Jesus drove fast down the road. Daryl stared at the directions, “A bullfrog’s hop t’ the right of a… what t’ hell is this?” He asked, scratching his head.

Jesus laughed, “It’s directions. Eugene wrote them.”

“F’ fuck’s sake. Two leagues past the old maple tree… ‘s a million maple trees out here!” He threw the instructions on the dashboard. Jesus smirked, “Don’t kill me. I wrote those just to tease you.”

“You bastard,” Daryl huffed, but smiled in the end, “figures. Where’s them directions at?”

Jesus pulled a paper out of his front pocket, “Here.”

Daryl read them quickly, “’s more like it.”

When they rolled up to the old rusty warehouse, Jesus cut the engine and looked over the list Eugene had given him. Daryl got out and started scouting for Walkers, and anyone else who happened along the way. He and Jesus cleared out a small group of the dead before breaking the chain lock on the door to head inside. Pigeons flew in the disturbed air kicking up dust and dirt. The men covered their mouths, Daryl quickly pulling his rag from his back pocket. He tied it over the bottom half of his mouth. Both were silent as the grave as they passed through the large building in search of any trespassers alive, or undead. Once they were certain it was empty, they set out to find each of the things Eugene wanted. It took longer than they expected since neither knew where to start. Searching boxes, and reading labels… they’d found two of the five things before dark.

“Looks like we’ll be staying the night,” Jesus huffed, wiping the dust from his hands onto his pants.

“Mhm,” Daryl lowered his backpack and brought out some salted dried venison, doling out some pieces to Jesus.

“Thanks,” Jesus said as they sat on the cold cement floor.

As they settled in for the night, Daryl volunteered to keep a watch out.

“T’morrow we hit them boxes upstairs. Can’t see shit now.”

“Agreed. I didn’t think this would be a two-day trip. I’ll just catch a few winks.”

(1 Year Later) “Sybil, get on over here, woman!” Daryl had called out over the heavy strains of guitar on the jukebox to his girl.

Sybil’s green eyes danced with merriment as she set her beer on the bar and made her way over to the young man who beckoned her. She laughed as he snaked his arms around her waist.

His nose brushed against her ear as he said, “Dance w’ me.” As if she was ever interested in dancing with someone else. She slid her palms flat against his chest as they moved to their own beat. It certainly didn’t match the fast drum solo in the Motorhead song. But finding their way to sway their bodies together had never been a problem. They began to sweat there under the hot lights, their friends milling around them. Some were dancing, others playing pool, and still, some just drinking and sharing conversation.

Daryl’s brother Merle was leaning on his old lady, licking salt from her neck as he downed another shot of tequila. He followed up with a lemon wedge from her cleavage as his loyal gang cheered him on.

“ ‘s get outta here,” Daryl said into Sybil’s ear, “ ‘s gonna get crazy t’night.”

“It’s well on its way,” she said, gripping his hand. They made a quick exit and soon were taking off on his bike. The wind whipped through Sybil’s untethered hair. The exhilaration from the cool air and the feel of her cheek against his back were enough to make Daryl giddy. He pulled up to her apartment and as he walked her to the door she stopped, key in her hand.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now,” she spoke up, her eyes staring into his, “and you’ve been good to me, Daryl. Come inside. I want you to stay the night.”

His jaw twitched. He’d been excited for this moment, he wouldn’t deny it. But now that it was here, he felt a sense of pride. He’d spent his time getting to know her. There was still so much to learn. And tonight would be another lesson in the ways of Sybil.

There was no small talk as her roommates were already in their respective rooms sleeping. He hadn’t been in the apartment at night unless there was a crowd of sorority sisters having a party. He and Sybil preferred being out of the house and hanging out with his gang often. She closed her room door there in the dark and turned on a dim lamp next to the bed.

She smiled at him, walking close, her hands caressing either side of his face as they began to kiss passionately. His palms rested on the flat of her back, rubbing slowly up and down as their mouths opened to explore like so many times before. It was more intense though, with pure need behind each tongue lashing and twisting together. A small groan lifted from his throat as she stepped back from him. They stared at one another, the soft glow from the light accentuating her features. The shadows delved into her curves and along the line of her legs.

“Help me out of this skirt, will you, Daryl?”

Daryl heard a noise that caught his attention. He went to investigate but seeing that it was a raccoon he shooed it away before walking the interior of the building alone. He placed a cigarette to his dry lips and lit it. Staring out one of the wide warehouse windows, he saw a few Walkers milling about near the truck. He puffed out some smoke and moved on toward the opposite end.

Sybil was more amazing than he could’ve imagined. Her body was perfection to him, and as she lifted on top of him, her hair swung down her back. He tangled his fingers into it before rubbing down around her ass while she ground her hips on top of him. He breathed as if through honey, labored, and sweet. As she rubbed his chest, a little pout curled on her lips as she neared the height of pleasure, calling out to him. He rolled her to her back, taking her breath away as he kept the rhythm up, bringing her to orgasm. He came in sync with her. He looked down at Sybil, the sweat beading on her forehead, their wet bodies sticking together, and he felt something he’d never felt before – fulfilled.

“Kiss me…” she gasped, still feeling the aftershocks of their lovemaking.

“Ain’t gotta ask, Syb…” He lowered his mouth onto hers, sucking her lips slowly, delightfully before withdrawing. He lay back, his chest still heaving as she lay her cheek upon it, listening to his fast heartbeat. He opened his legs, and she nestled her lower half between them, her stomach resting on his groin, not uncomfortable. He rubbed her saturated back, fingers slipping in the sweat, her hair pasted to her shoulders and his chest. Their bodies fit together like an intimate puzzle. Their hands locked together, fingers woven tight, his free hand cradling her. It was at that moment he knew his heart belonged to her.

When the first hint of light came through the windows, Jesus was up. He and Daryl searched the remainder of the building and found the rest of the items for Eugene by midday.

When they got outside, the Walkers from last night were still wandering around the truck, and seeing the two men, started lurching towards them.

“Dammit,” Jesus uttered while Daryl shot the closest in the head and then pulled his knives. Jesus round-housed one right in the skull, its rotted head exploding from the connection. Daryl took out two, a stab to the front of each temple, and Jesus took down the last one.

“ ‘ll drive,” Daryl said once everything was packed into the back of the pickup. Jesus tossed the keys to him. On the drive to Hilltop, Daryl was reliving those moments with Sybil still. Waking up with his legs wrapped around hers, her body still on his. He could almost feel her warmth, smell her perfume. He swerved almost hitting a Walker in the road. Jesus looked over at him, “Are you sure you’re up for driving?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” He sped up to get past the gathering herd quickly leaving them in the dust.

Eugene was pleased as he met the men getting out of the pickup.

“Did y’all find everything?” he asked as he pulled back the tarp over the parts. He went over the list and marked each item off, “Well done, you guys. I know these doodads don’t look like much, but when I get ‘em all put together, we’ll have some fine additions to those cabins y’all been working so hard on. Electricity! Creature comforts.”

“Glad we could help,” Jesus said as he and Daryl unloaded.

“Did you meet up with any trouble?” Maggie asked as she picked up a small box from the back.

“Naw,” Daryl responded.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Jesus added.

( 1 Month Later) Carver College

Daryl spotted Sybil and her friends in the throes of students in the cafeteria. She’d been pouring over textbooks for a test coming up in English Lit class. He breathed hot air on the back of her neck, “Hey babe.”

She smiled as she whispered, “Daryl…”

Mandy sniggered, “You two are something else.”

Daryl kissed Sybil lightly and slid into the chair next to her.

“Where have you been?” She asked in a hushed tone. She hadn’t seen him in four days. No explanations, no phone calls, “I was worried about you. I thought something might have happened to you!”

“Naw, no need t’ worry. ‘M here now.” He rubbed her hand slowly.

She picked up her books and excused herself from her circle of friends. Daryl grabbed them to carry for her. Once they were outside she turned to him, “Where have you been?” She asked him again, “You just disappeared.”

“I had t’ go outta town w’ Merle.”

“To do what?” She asked curiously.

He shrugged, “Just some odd errands, ain’t no big deal.”

“Daryl, it’s a big deal when you’re dating someone, and you just disappear. What if something happened to you?”

“Syb… don’t need t’ keep tabs on me. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen t’ me.”

She frowned, “I’m not keeping tabs. Why are you keeping secrets?”

Chapter 7: Unavailable

The deer was finally ready to process. Many offered to help him, but he kindly rejected those offers. He wanted to work alone and get things off his mind. His memories were flooding in and he couldn’t build the dam fast enough to keep them at bay. It was close to the time of year when he first met Sybil. Even though people referred to parts of the year by the period of Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, Daryl knew it was around June. He felt it in his heart, and thoughts of Sybil were at their pinnacle. He sharpened his knife on a whetstone til the blade could slice easily through the meat, and as he removed the hide, he halted suddenly.

(6 Months Later) Sybil looked up from the bed, “Where are you going, hot stuff?”

He zipped his jeans, “gotta go outta town f’ a few days.”

She sat up, slipping on one of his t-shirts, “where? You never say.”

“Nothin’ y’ need t’ worry y’self over, Syb.” He rubbed her shoulders slowly, “Y’ won’t even have time t’ miss me.” He kissed her lips.

“Your brother is a troublemaker. Why do I have the feeling you two get up to no good when you’re gone?”

He shook out his head and started working the hide again, bound to have the hide salted and stretched before dinner. His workworn hands rubbed the salt into the thin layer of skin remaining, and as he was stretching it, he could smell dinner. His stomach rumbled. He covered the meat with an old tarp and went to join the others.

That night he sat by the campfire longer than most. The dog was sleeping by his foot, basking in the heat from the flames.

(One Year Later) Daryl knew it was late. It was nearly one. He’d been out fucking around with his gang, causing a ruckus, getting into a fight with another gang, and then Merle suggested they all go out for drinks. Daryl had a few and lost track of time.

“Shit, I gotta go!” He told his brother.

“What? Why?”

“’S Sybil’s birthday. ‘M late.”

“You’re so whipped. Hell, she’ll have another one next year.”

“That ain’t the point!” He said goodbye to his friends and rushed out to his bike. When he got to Sybil’s apartment, he could see the windows were dark. He pulled the present he had messily wrapped out of his saddle bag and went up to the second floor. He knocked on the door, and Theresa answered.

“What are you doing here, Daryl? Don’t you know how to tell time?”

“Jus’ wanna see Syb… don’t need y’all givin’ m’ a hard time. Lemme in.”

“Why don’t you just go and try to make amends tomorrow? You’re on her shit list you know.”

“Who’s at the door?” Sybil called out behind her. Daryl looked over Theresa’s shoulder and saw Sybil tying up her silky robe.

“Syb… ‘s me. I wanna come in.”

“I’ve got this Theresa…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you go on back to bed.”

Daryl ducked his head in shame, “Happy Birthday.” He held out the gift. Sybil’s hands were on her hips.

“Kind of late for that. My birthday was yesterday. It’s nearly two. What happened?”

“Got caught up w’ the boys. I lost track o’ time s’ all.”

“Oh, that’s all huh? My birthday didn’t matter much to you then, did it?”

“That ain’t true.”

“Sure it is. If you cared, you’d have been on time. You get with those guys and forget everything.” She pulled him into the room, and looked at him in the light, “And what the hell happened to your chin?”

Daryl instinctively touched his jaw. He must’ve gotten a bruise from the fight.

“You’ve been fighting again?”

“Weren’t much o’ a fight,” he half–laughed, “We got ‘em good.”

She stared at him angrily, “I can’t believe you’re missing the point here.” She wiped tears from her eyes, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

“What? Y’ breakin’ up w’ me?!”

“Yes, I am.”

“Because m’ late f’ y’ birthday?”

“You just don’t get it. You didn’t show up. You didn’t call. And when you finally do show up you don’t feel one inch of remorse for it all.”

“Said I was sorry, Syb. Don’t be like that.”

“No, you didn’t apologize. You bragged about a fight. I don’t want to be a part of this. I expect more from the man I care about.”

He wiped his eyes, blaming the smoke from the fire, and decided it was time to head back to Alexandria. He’d leave as soon as he finished preparing the meat for Hilltop.

Chapter 8: Camping

Daryl waited a couple weeks for Sybil to cool off after their split.

“You’re better off without her baby brother. Now you ain’t tied down to one woman, you can date any y’all want.”

“Don’t wanna date anyone else. I want Sybil,” he muttered, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He turned over the engine on his bike, bringing it back to life after its tune-up.

“Well she don’t want nothin’ to do with your sorry ass. She thinks she’s too good for ya! There’s plenty of other bitches that are interested in ya.”

“She ain’t a bitch, Merle. She’s different than them other girls.”

“Ooh, are you in love, pussy?”

“Why am I tellin’ y’ anythin’?” He put his tools away, and said, “Goin’ out f’ a bit.”

“Go on then, run back to that highfalutin’ uptown bitch. She must have some sugar ‘tween her legs to keep ya comin’ back to her.”

He showed up at Save A Lot where Sybil worked. She wasn’t at the cash register, but he found her stocking shelves as he searched the aisles.

“Hey Syb…” he said as he approached. She stopped marking canned goods with the pricing gun and looked in his direction.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came t’ apologize. M’ sorry I was such a dick.”

“Are you? Because I have the feeling that the sort of thing that got you in trouble with me in the first place is going to keep happening.”

“Naw… it ain’t. What can I do t’ make y’ change y’ mind?”

She huffed, “You need to stop fighting. I knew full well you were in a gang when I met you. But I don’t think I realized what that entailed.”

He reached out and touched one of her curls, wrapping it around his finger, “I can stop fightin’.”

“Yeah, right,” She rolled her eyes.

“I can,” he insisted.

“Prove it.”

“I will. Supposed t’ be a lil’ somethin’ on Friday. ‘ll come an’ see y’all instead. Maybe I can help you study…” he leaned his arm against the shelf, keeping close to her, “what d’ ya say?”

“Give me a week to think things over. Stay out of trouble until then. I refuse to have a boyfriend that will probably end up in jail. You’re better than that.”

He screeched to a halt on his bike. Right in the middle of the road.

“Can’t go back to Alexandria.” He felt a tightness in his chest, “Just can’t. C’mon.” He veered off the road and pushed his bike into some bramble to hide it.

He and Dog made their way deep into the forest around them. He knew the area well. He retreated towards a long winding river that cut through a clearing and set up a little lean-to between two trees and dug out a hole for a campfire. He set up a perimeter and fashioned a spear from a sturdy branch to go fishing. He and Dog ate a fine catch of fish for dinner.

He lay back against a log and stared up through the tree branches as the stars peeked into the holes between the leaves.

Three months later, they were back together. It took him that long to convince Sybil that he was staying out of trouble. He hung with the gang but skipped out when any brouhahas took place. His brother and friends didn’t let him live it down. He took the brunt of their brutal teasing, keeping his focus on what he really wanted, Sybil.

He watched as Sybil tried to figure out the instructions to the tent she’d brought on their first camping trip. It was early Autumn, and the weather was still pretty warm. He snorted, “Don’t need that booklet. Didn’t need no fancy tent neither.”

“I wanted it to be special,” she huffed, “and I can’t make heads or tails of any of this.”

He walked over, grabbed the instructions, and tossed them in the fire.

“Hey!” She laughed, “How do you expect to set up this tent then?”

He set to work, “Syb… pull them ropes your way.” He handed her a spike, “Stick ‘em in the ground…”

He pulled the other side and did the same. He put together the supports inside, assembling the tent in no time. She smiled proudly as she looked at the results.

“I knew you were good for something,” she teased, messing with his short hair.

That night after hot and heavy lovemaking, they went skinny dipping in the river not far from their setup. She shone under the moonlight, her body dancing with the beads of water dripping down her shoulders, over her breasts, and into the water at her waist. Daryl joined her and as they made out she said, “I could stay here forever.”

How he wished he had.

Chapter 9: The Thick of the Woods

Daryl spent weeks wandering the woods. He’d become so silent, he didn’t even need to call Dog, Dog just knew when to come. He’d gone a longer distance with each day, following the river downstream. He’d passed some small makeshift cabins and checked them out. Even spent some nights in one or two of them. He fought Walkers. Trudged through a downpour. Played with Dog in different clearings they happened upon. They lived off fish, rabbits, squirrels, wild yams, and leeks.

(2 Years Later) Sybil and Daryl got an apartment together. They’d been together for well over four years, and things just fell into place. They were happy, content with life. She was in her fourth year of college, she wanted to be a teacher, and Daryl was working for a local garage fixing just about anything with a motor.

“C’mon Syb… y’all get that cute ass in here. ‘ll help y’ study.” Daryl wanted to be as supportive to Sybil as he could. Even when he didn’t understand what he was quizzing her on, he felt proud of his girl for being so smart.

“If I don’t know it by now, I’m never going to know it.”

“C’mon ‘s the hard stuff, Early Childhood Development,” He held up the book, “We’re gonna go over t’ ones highlighted. Y’all got the rest down pat.”

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Listen… ‘s somethin’ y’ really want, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes locking with his.

“Then y’ gotta put the time in. ‘S been four long years, but ‘s almost over. Don’t give up.” He squeezed her hand gently as he leaned in to kiss her.

“What would I do without you?” She asked, rubbing his scruffy cheek.

“Fail t’ damn test,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. They both laughed, “Right. Question one…”

He smiled at the thought, on how she graduated in the top five of her class. He’d liked to have thought he was part of the reason for that, if she wasn’t so smart to begin with. Still, it was some of his favorite time back then, watching her mind work, the way she’d bite her tongue and look at the ceiling while she thought about her answers, and how she loved to be rewarded with kisses.

One evening, just before dusk he heard a scream. Another voice was yelling, “Over here… this way!”

Heavy footfalls, groaning, and growling. Walkers. He followed the sounds and before crashing through the brush, he surveyed the situation. About ten Walkers were surrounding a couple of women and a man. They were fighting the Walkers pretty well, but there were too many. Daryl aimed his crossbow, clipping one Walker in the head about to bite the man’s shoulder. He fell to the ground. Unsure of what happened, the people continued to fight. He unsheathed his two knives, broke through the brush, and took two out, slicing another at the knees. One of the women brought down a knife into its brain. The other woman shoved a Walker into a tree and split its head with a machete. Three more to go. The man was backing up, looking to see if there were any more, turned around, and got one mere moment from attacking him. Daryl wiped the blades on his filthy pants and looked at the people quickly.

“Thank you,” one of the women breathed, “I don’t know if we could’ve made it without your help. Imagine finding another living soul in the woods.”

Daryl nodded as Dog sniffed around for any other threats. The woman with the cleaver was kneeling, cleaning her blade on one of the Walker’s shirts.

“Yes, thank you.” She stood up and turned to face the man, “we wouldn’t have made it.” She brushed an arm across her grimy face and said, “Do we look as bad as you do?” She smiled at the light joke. Daryl did a double-take. He squinted his eyes and studied the woman closely. She wasn’t anything to look at from first glance being road worn and ragged. But he saw those mystifying green eyes he’d never forget.

“S… Sybil?” His voice broke from being quiet for so long. It sounded foreign to him.

“How do you know my name?” She asked, eyeing the stranger. He was caked in mud, grungy from head to toe, long filthy hair pasted to his dirtied face.

“’S me…” was all he could muster taking a step closer. The woman looked deeply into the man’s eyes.

“Syb… ‘s Daryl…” he patted his chest.

“Daryl?” Her eyes widened. With sharp analysis, she determined that under that mess was the man from her past when everything was right in the world. Her throat closed as she stood stone still. The air was so thick, no one spoke, but everyone was bewildered that Sybil could find someone in the middle of nowhere that knew her.

There was movement behind her and a voice, “Mom? Is it safe to come out?”

For Part Two Click Here

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