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dreamingdixon · 1 year

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Eyes on me

Anon request: “can you do something like what happened to Maggie with the governor when her and Glenn were kidnapped? maybe the reader was in that situation, and Daryl finds out and is like comforting them?”

This fic contains sexual assault, and everything that comes afterwards. This could be potentially triggering, so please keep that in mind before continuing. My intention is not to trigger, upset or make anybody uncomfortable. I will post an edited version, that will have any graphic content (including the SA itself, and any mentions thereafter) removed, so this story can be enjoyed by those who do not want to read the full/graphic version, but still enjoy the hurt/comfort element of a soft Daryl <3 If anyone is in a situation where they have experienced anything along the lines of harassment/SA, my ask box is always open to be a listening ear and a friend. I wrote this story from a place of my own understanding and experience, and I found it comforting to write a different 'afterwards'.

17,349 words.

“I’m sorry about Merle.”

You’d kept your gaze trained on the bloodied denim on your thighs when the heavy door creaked open, managed to keep your eyes averted even when you heard footsteps against the harsh concrete. You’d told yourself you weren’t even going to so much as look at the man who’d dared to hold a knife to your throat and drag you from your friends.

But this was a different voice.

Snapping your head up, you quickly blink away the fog in your vision to reveal a man, his hands held up high, palms towards you. There’s a smile on his face that you immediately hate and you instinctively pull against the tape on your wrists as he edges himself closer to you.

“Sometimes he just doesn’t know when to stop. I’ll be having a word with him.”

There’s a rawness to your skin when you continue to move your hands, your mind begging for your small movements to be capable of breaking the layers of thick tape, desperate - pleading as he reaches the other end of the table. He doesn’t seem overly satisfied when he asks ‘May I?’, gesturing towards the chair and receives no answer, his only response a continued glare, but he sits regardless and places a towel on the metal in front of him.

“I hope he didn’t hurt you too much, that’s not the way we do things around here. Especially not to young women, survivors like yourself.”

The sickly sweet voice phrases itself like a question that makes your skin crawl as he sits so casually, one leg over the other, hands across his lap. He carries himself well, you think to yourself. Powerful, or he thinks he must be - power that he’s brutally taken, not earned - as he watches your face for any sort of reaction to his presence or words. He continues when he sees none. We don’t want to hurt anybody, we’re a community of good people. People, food, walls. Woodbury.

He gestures around the damp room, apologising for the ‘inhospitable accommodation’ one of his men brought you to. It seems like a storage room, bits of old furniture leaning against the bare walls and corrugated metal sheets, and there’s a faint bitterness to the air - cold from damp gathering on the roof and an unwelcome breeze from the outside world making its way inside, and you can’t ignore the goosebumps prickling against your exposed arms.

“I’m not staying.”

Your nose and cheek throb from your movements to speak, but your words come out firm and final exactly how you intended, no trace of the fear that’s slowly building up inside you. You have your own people, food, and walls. You have gates you’re carefully reinforcing against men like this, people who have done more for you since you joined them than others had your entire life prior to the fall, and there isn’t much food but it’s better than anything this man could ever offer you. You ignore the blood that trails down past your lip and the metallic taste on your tongue. His confident smiles only widens with your words, shrugging carelessly as if you hadn’t turned him down - like he was happy with your answer.

“You don’t have to. We can just take you back to your people, I’d escort you personally, make sure you get there safely, maybe strike a deal with your group for extra protection, share supplies, ammo.. What do you think, would your group be interested?”

You wonder how many people have fallen for his act. In the span of what you’re assuming to be a few hours, you’ve been forcefully taken, knocked out, your nose most likely broken in your struggle and you’ve been tied up, and this man has the audacity to offer a deal? You manage to swallow down the laugh that you’re desperate to vocalize, but a small smirk escapes onto your lips instead.

“I think my group will kill you on the spot when they find out about you. No fucking deal, asshole.”

Your brows furrow because he laughs at your words, deep lines forming between your eyebrows because he doesn’t seem phased. He’s acting like he didn’t expect this conversation to go any other way, like he’s about to shake your hand and send you on your way and you’re confused. Waking up in the situation you did, you’d expected a few threats and a gun to your head at the very least, but it doesn’t come, so you wait. Leaning forward, he watches you, studies you and he can tell you’re not acting - you’re tough. You’re sitting up straight, but he knows you’re uncomfortable by how you flex your shoulders occasionally against the pull of the awkward angle of your restraints. Like a racing horse with blinders, you haven’t taken your gaze away from his - not even once - like you’re not in the precarious situation you’re currently in. Your chest isn’t heaving with nerves like others who sat in the same chair just last week, and he admires you for it.

Bringing himself to his feet, he grabs the towel as he edges himself closer to you and your mind runs, pure anxiety tainting all of your thoughts and you’re ashamed of the wave of cold that suddenly courses through your veins and you shiver.

Stepping behind the chair, the hairs on your arms stand upright because you can’t see him anymore. White noise fills your head because he isn’t even walking, there’s no footsteps to be heard until you’re being suddenly dragged, a deafening scrape of metal as your chair is slowly turned 90 degrees and he gradually brings himself into your view again.

There’s fear now, he realizes, from removing himself from your line of vision. It gave you courage to have your eyes on the man in charge and taking that away for even just a moment gave that courage a shake - and he likes that, given him just a tiny bit more control. Your eyes are wider now, not narrowed like just moments ago. He could get off on that fact alone, so he crouches down in front of you to drink in the sight.

He’s looking at you like a child looks at the highest ticket prize at an arcade, full of want, a craving to be satisfied and unthinkingly your nose scrunches in disdain but oh my god that’s a mistake because you can feel your pulse in your nose and a dull twinge that shoots through you at the motion that has you sucking air through your teeth.

He whispers a ‘shhh’ that absolutely repulses you, and his eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly brings the towel in his grip up to your face and he lightly dabs at the skin above your lip, the white terry cloth coming back a deep crimson. It takes a second to realize he’s trying to clean you, and he’s doing it like it’s second nature but his other hand is resting on your thigh when he goes to repeat the motion for a second time, but this time you’re ready because he’s touching you and there’s rage bubbling inside of you because who the fuck is he to be responsible for your broken nose, then have the audacity to mop up the evidence?

Before the material reaches your lip, you muster the energy and ignore the strain on your muscles and you spit on him. It’s discoloured from the blood that made its way between your lips, and it’s revolting and it’s the least he deserves. How dare he touch you?

The man scoffs before taking the towel in his hand and erases any trace of you from his cheek, as he raises his eyebrow and suddenly the air seems heavier and the room just got darker because so did his eyes, and within a second he’s behind you again, but he’s not silent or at a distance - the material of his trousers are pressed against your restrained hands behind the cold bars of the chair and he’s got an arm wrapped around your neck. The pretend silkiness gone from his voice, replaced with a gravelly ‘I was right, you’re feisty’ and he’s applying just enough pressure with his forearm for you to not move, and you don’t.

You’re completely still as you look right ahead, you’ve stopped your fight against the tape because he’s everywhere behind you and if you’re completely still maybe you can ignore him, but you can smell his cologne and it’s so light and delicate but it’s overwhelming. Waiting for the inevitable blow that doesn’t come, he adjusts his grip as he lifts his forearm slightly, tilting your head upwards against the pressure and when your eyes angle towards the ceiling, he’s staring down at you, shaking his head, tutting his disapproval.

The towel's still in his grip, but he’s rougher this time as he brings it to your nose - tugging the scratchy material firmly against broken skin, replacing the gentle patting of the earlier attempt and it drags out a throaty whimper from your throat and he feels the vibrations against his arm as he repeats his actions two, three, four times. Eyes screwed shut, you feel his grip harden against your throat when you try to pull your head away but the pressure against your windpipe increases and you’re not going to black out so you do your best to hold still instead, groaning at the feel of rogue droplets of blood escaping down your throat from the angle, and the way your face absolutely throbs by the time he lets go.

Stepping back in front of you, he assesses his handiwork and tells you ‘see, that’s so much better’ before striding out of the room, a thunderous clang of the door ringing in your ears after he leaves.

Hours are spent rotating between a few tasks - wondering how you’re going to murder this man, planning your escape, counting the individual bits of furniture in the room and thinking about the group. It has cost so much to clear the prison, people have paid with their lives for the remainder to have somewhere safe to call home, you will not be the reason it falls by giving anybody the location. This entire situation solidifies what you already knew - you’d die for the rag-tag assortment of individuals and you’d call them family any day of the week. You think about how lucky you were to be taken in by them after crossing paths on a random dirt track months ago, and how they spread their scarce rations even thinner to take you in.

Family.

Struggling to find the strength to hold yourself up, you sit with your head limply resting against your chest, the occasional thin streak of crimson collecting on the neckline of your vest. Stiffness dominates every part of your body by the time the door swings open again, and you roll your eyes at the familiar man who isn’t smiling this time.

He approaches slowly, and by the time he’s next to you he’s offering you a plastic water bottle that you reluctantly ignore by sealing your lips and turning away. The bottle gets placed on the table, and he tells you to ‘suit yourself’ before grabbing your chin, tugging you to face him and he’s relieved to see the flow of blood has slowed despite the majority of your upper lip, chin and down to your chest decorated in cracked, dried crimson. He tells you you’re looking in bad shape, and he’d love to take you back to your people so I’ll ask again - where’s your camp?

The back and forth gets him nowhere, and the frustration becomes visible. His velvety voice becomes forceful and loud in his demands, fists hitting the table when he’s answered with another ‘fuck you’ and his jaw clenches hard.

“Okay. We’ll try something different.”

He slips the mask back into place, allowing the mellow tone returns to his words, but there’s still an edge to his voice. He’s worked up, but he sounds like he’s got a plan and you don’t like how he perches himself in front of you again, but you like it even less when his fingers toy with the bottom of your shirt.

“You wanna tell me before or after I cut this shirt off of you?”

Your blood runs cold at the question. You stare at him while your brain goes into overdrive, how can I get myself out of this? But without any hesitation, he brings the knife to the base of your shirt, holds the material taut with his other hand and drags the knife all the way up, catching the skin of your abdomen and your chest a few times on the journey. It cuts so easily, like scissors through wrapping paper and the bloodied material hangs limply by the straps until he easily nicks through the remaining fabric, and you feel completely helpless when he holds the destroyed shirt in his hands before tossing it in the direction of the door.

You’d known violence since the fall, but this was a different shade of cruelty - one that had your chest heaving and embarrassment showing itself with redness on your skin, and you had no control over the trembling that took over you within seconds and it only worsens when he returns to his favourite spot behind you, and you wait for the first cut against your skin but instead, he carefully slices some of the tape away, splitting the section binding you to the metal frame of the seat while maintaining the integrity of the layers around your wrists as he pulls you to your feet, shoulders lifting away from the frame painfully.

He’s staring at you like you're rare mixture of gold and silver and diamonds, like you’re there exclusively for him and he's not planning on sharing his riches with anybody, without a care in the world for the redness around your eyes or the tears that are threatening to spill over, or the fresh blood pooling around tender wrists where you’re furiously fighting with the tape that somehow feels even stronger now.

He ignores your whimpers, telling you ‘it doesn’t have to be like this, you’re in full control here, got it? How this plays out is up to you, don’t cry, shhh.’ as you try your best to stand tall, you’re not going down without a fight.

“This is how it’s going to happen, alright? I’m going to ask you questions - about where y’all are hiding out, about your group, and for every question you don’t answer, I’m going to take something else off of you until either I know everything I need to know, or there’s a nice pile of clothes over there. Ball’s in your court, sweetheart, cause I’ll do much worse than this to them when I find ‘em, and trust me, I will find ‘em.”

Fear and hatred consume your features, and he whispers a ‘don’t move’ when he steps closer to you and you step backwards, his hand delicately moving overgrown hair away from your eyes and tucking it behind your ear. Despite the light movement of his fingers, the touch feels like sandpaper and you silently promise to cut off each and every one of his fingers with the dullest knife you can find. Standing in front of you, he starts with his questions. “How many of you are there?” which seems harmless enough, but you already know you can’t win in this game so you remain silent and sob when he cuts through the wire of your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

You wonder how this man came to be as he eyes you up and down. You try to pretend you aren’t completely exposed by wondering if this place - Woodbury, he said - existed from the beginning, or if he had a role in setting it up. Nowhere’s safe anymore, and you swear the only decent people who are still alive are your people who you pray are currently out looking for you. Would Rick try to interrogate him first, like he did Randall at the farm? Would Daryl - the man with the thickest shell, who’d warmed up to you slowly - hesitate to kill him for you? Would Carol hold your hand when you tell her what happened? Would Beth think of you when she sang over the campfire?

Frustration hits you like a wave when the man's eyes linger over your chest, and you swear you’ve never hated anyone more in your entire life so you do the only thing you think to do in that moment, you bring your head backwards for momentum and you aim for his nose to return the favour, longing for the sound of a crunch that doesn’t fucking happen. He’s too quick, too practiced. Fast reflexes and learned instinct told him what you were about to do, so he swerves and you loose your footing, a stagger towards that leaves you barely on your feet.

Disappointment hits you like a tonne of bricks, the chance presented itself to you on a silver platter and you were too slow. You’ve barely found your balance before there’s a bruising grip around your biceps, warm fingers digging painfully into haggard muscles and chilled skin, and the hot breath against your neck telling you to ‘turn around, slowly.’ brings bile to your throat that you swallow down as you follow the instruction. He re-adjusts his grasp when your eyes meet, bringing his fingers to your chin instead, tracing the discolouration along your jaw.

“Nice try. What’s it gonna take until you spill, huh?”

He notices the tremor in your muscles, the involuntary vibrations beneath the palms of his fingers that have you shaking. He’s telling you again about how he doesn’t want to hurt you, and you’re so desperate to call him out on his lies but he’s got the upper hand and you know it, so the words die before they’ve even began to form.

He takes his time. It’s almost worse when he isn’t actually doing anything to you, it’s like the anticipation builds and builds until you’re breathing is short and fast because he’s playing mind games - and winning. You’d almost prefer if he’d just get it over with, whatever it is.

There’s so much fire behind your eyes despite your sore state, so he decides to up the stakes.

“Okay, time for round two. For every question you don’t answer, not only do you lose something you’re wearing, keep in mind you’ve not got a whole lot left, but somebody from your group dies. Simple as that. You’re at two so far, and I’ll give you the honour of deciding who.”

His hand trails from your jaw, fingers tracing the curve of your neck to your collarbone, across the flaky, dried blood on your chest before drawing an agonizingly slow line up and down your sternum but his eyes never leave yours - threatening.

“Might even give you a pretty dress for the show, since it looks like you won’t have anything left on you by then.”

There’s tears forming that you aggressively try to blink away, burning against your dry eyes. He’s asking you then, where’s your camp? Must be near by, right? How long d’you reckon it’ll take my soldiers to find, hmm? But his fingers are just below your navel, now, and you’re shuddering because you want to be anywhere but here.

He waits. Patient in his resolve. Whatever your people have, he wants it. He counts your accelerated breaths in his mind, still smiling and it widens sickeningly when your features warp into terror and panic as his index finger reaches the skin just below your breast, vaguely following the curve of the flesh but his eyes are still trained on yours and he just watches the way your nostrils flare and eyes widen because he did that. He’s proud to get a reaction out of you, but you still haven’t answered his question, so he brings his fingers just a tiny bit higher, that tiny bit closer to where he shouldn’t be anywhere near and he’s humming, a firm reminder to answer. A question in itself.

But the question remains unanswered, and his patience has run out.

“Get on your knees.”

There’s no time to react before his hand moves from your torso to your shoulder, pushing down while his other drags down firmly against your now bruised bicep. You buckle against the momentum, your arms still restrained leaving you off-balance and you’ve never felt like an easier target in your life. Your knees collide painfully with the concrete, and you wince against the jolts that burst up your thigh from the harsh collision.

Your thoughts run rampant. Is this your execution, or something else? Is he going to bring a knife out again and murder you, a sharp puncture to your skull to prevent the turn, or will he drag it out by holding it to your throat first? Would the group ever find you, hidden away in a storage room of a community they don’t even know existed?

Would Daryl be the one to find you, to bring you back to the prison and bury you, even if you’d turned? You imagine him sweating in the prison’s yard, a shovel gripped between bleeding, sore fingers while you lay there, covered by a sheet and the tears flow down your face like a running tap at the thought. When he’d promised to look after you, you’d vowed to do the same and you meant it, and he’d wrapped his arm over your shoulder at the way you’d said it - so full of sincerity and commitment. If you didn’t make it out of this room you wouldn’t be able to carry out your promise and that made your chest ache.

Your face is angled upwards forcefully, thumbs brushing away the salty tears streaming down your cheeks. He’s telling you it’s okay, shushing you quietly as he continues to drag the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks, the warmth from your tears and his movements smearing blood across your cheeks haphazardly. He smiles softly, telling you once more that it’s okay, that he’ll be gentle before his hands move to the back of your head - one gripping the nape of your neck, the other against your crown and he tugs you towards him.

You collide with the rough material of his trousers nose-first in a way that makes you howl with pain, it shoots into the back of your eyes and you’d swear you’d felt something shift that shouldn’t. He presses you against the crotch of his pants, forehead digging into the cold metal of his belt buckle and pulling against him gets you nowhere, only a firmer grip against the nape of your neck that you’d swear just yanked out strands of hair. He holds you still, ignoring your wailing and he moves his hips against you, smears of blood staining the fabric with evidence of his violence. The warmth of his body heat and the fact you can smell the metallic edge of your own blood and you’re going to vomit any second. The room is too cold and the denim too rough and you can feel the gathered-together tape digging into the oozing blood gathering around your wrists. You try to focus on anything else you can - the design etched into the material of his pants, the feeling of how you wiggle your toes, the pattern of your breathing, anything to give you an escape.

He moves you then, making you look to the side until your cheek is pressed into the fabric instead, and he simply holds you there, and that’s when you decide this will be easier if you close your eyes - if you can’t see what he’s doing, maybe it won’t exist. But it does, and suddenly he’s grabbing fistfuls of your hair, a rough grip that burns with so much intensity that it prickles down your neck and spine and he tugs you away from him. He speaks then - something about your eyes, but you’re completely unfocused until he repeats himself, emphasising his words with a harsh tug and when your eyes shoot open - he looks so proud of himself.

The sound of his zipper is the next thing you hear, a dull noise that seems to echo way too loud against the metallic walls, vibrating against your ears until you start counting backwards in your mind in a desperate attempt of distraction that doesn’t work.

When the door squeaks open suddenly, and you feel like you’re saved when the man talks about a breach, men with weapons and he needs to come immediately, panic written all over his features as he stumbles over his words with white knuckles over the barrel of his gun, but always keeping his eyes averted from your direction. The man holds you where you are while he listens, completely shameless when he grinds against you one last time before telling you I’ll be back, before tugging you backwards and pulling up the zipper of his pants.

You’re left with your knees against concrete, tears that won't go away and the heaviness in your chest feels like you can’t breathe because you can still feel the lingering grip against the base of your skull and the roughness of his trousers pressing against you, and when you can’t shake the sound of his breathing out of your mind you lean over and empty your stomach, retching from your hunched over position until there’s nothing left but stomach acid and it burns.

Time doesn’t exist anymore, there isn’t a single window in the entire room and you’ve truly lost your sense of timekeeping - has it been a few hours or an entire day, maybe more? The way the air is colder now makes you think it’s the milder evening air seeping in through the walls, fresh and bitter in contrast to the usual daytime Georgian dry heat that you suddenly crave against your skin. You curl in on yourself, back against the furthest wall from the door, the metal behind you only adding to the uncomfortable position but you swear if you don’t lean against something you’re going to keel over and die so you’ll take it, ignoring the discomfort of your wrists digging into your lower back.

If it’s night time, you wonder if Judith is asleep and if Glenn and Maggie got back safe, are they together now? Are you missed? Is Daryl using his tracking skills to bring you back home, like he promised you he would after you lost Sophia, when he vowed he’d never lose you?

You feel like you’re waiting for the inevitable, a reminder of sitting in the hospital waiting room for hours as a teenager after falling on your arm - you knew it was only broken, the result of an unsupervised houseparty, but what if they found something else on the x-ray and told you in 6 months you’d be dead? Your mother was adamant that wouldn’t happen, but what if? Turns out it was a hairline fracture, and you wouldn’t be dead in 6 months because of it, but your mother held your hand regardless, promising to take you out for dinner in exactly 6 months to celebrate - and so she did. But you’ve never forgotten the experience of sitting in the waiting area and how sterile everything was and how everything was so blue and bright made you vow to never need a hospital visit again. This felt the same, like waiting for the terrifying result of that xray that you were so sure was going to give you an expiration date - but it’s worse, there’s no exit or your mothers soft skin against your own, no nurses to make you laugh when they see your anxious eyes, there’s only the heavy metal door that wouldn’t budge when you tried to kick it, the scraps of fabric that you can’t wear anymore, the empty space and the occasional trickle of warmth down your chin.

You bring your knees up to your chest and cry, because it’s all you can do and you shake from the intensity of it all. You’ve never felt so useless, you’ve been so productive and exhausted and helped keep everybody safe for so long and now you’re here, playing a waiting game with a villain. Like a mouse caught in a trap with your own vomit a few feet away.

There’s a commotion outside that you try to ignore, scrunching your eyes closed and you wish you could cover your ears and pretend it doesn’t exist - so that’s what you try to do. Resting your forehead against your knees you just pretend. You’re not trapped and you’re not crying and you’ve definitely not just had him touch you like that, but then you hear gunshots and there’s only so much pretending you can do.

/////////////

It wasn’t supposed to turn into a bloodbath, but it was their fault.

A new woman - Michonne, was the only reason they had any lead about where you might be, and of course it was risky to go along with it, but this was you they were talking about, and it was a risk that was absolutely worth taking. Daryl would have gone alone if he needed to, because seeing Glenn and Maggie run through those doors without you had his heart in his throat, and when Maggie started speaking ‘I didn’t see who took ‘er, she was right behind us when we went inside, then there was a.. A yell, and by the time we came out there was a car drivin’ away.’ he already had his crossbow over his shoulder and a goal of getting you back.

On Rick’s command, Daryl slowly pulls the bolt securing the door, easing it carefully enough to avoid drawing the attention of whoever - or whatever - was potentially inside. The rusted metal rang when it rested on the other side and he placed his hand on the frame, ready to push with the signal. A last look around confirms they’re alone except the unfortunate outline of an man who’d raised his gun towards the wrong people, and when Rick gives a nod of his head, Daryl’s swift in his movements, opening the heavy door with one instantaneous push and he’s inside with a single stride, gusts of lingering smoke following the movement.

There’s a vague smell of damp to the room, mingled with something else - something bitter that hangs densely in the air until there’s a faint taste in the back of his throat. Rick follows the archer’s lead, a crossbow and gun darting around each corner of the room, and within a second they’ve both detected the few items of clothing - one by the door and as Daryl inches closer around the table, there’s a bra that comes into his view. Behind him, Rick makes his way towards the shirt, he’s about to get Daryl’s attention because he recognises it, it’s yours, you’re here somewhere but Daryl’s already next to you.

When your eyes meet Daryl’s, your chest fucking heaves and you cry from relief because he’s right here and he promised he always would be, that he’d find you and he did. His crossbow points at your chest for only half a second before it’s quickly dropped to hang loosely from the strap over his shoulder and he’s running towards you, calling over to Rick that he’s found you.

He’s kneeling next to you, face only inches from yours and you want to touch him but your shoulders ache in resistance and your wrists sting but you need to touch him to see if he’s real but you can’t and you’re hyperventilating, pulling harder, cutting deeper into already broken skin. Panic sets in and it’s so ridiculous because why are you crumbling now? Daryl’s softly calling your name and trying to meet your gaze but your ears are flooded by the resounding noise of your own pulse and your eyes are darting between the concrete floor, the open door and Rick who’s keeping his distance - he doesn’t want to add to your fear by towering over you so he turns towards the door, protective, guarding.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. It’s alright, I got ya.”

The voice is grounding, it brings you back just enough to look at him and see him properly.

“There ya go, keep those eyes on me, okay?”

So that’s what you do, you keep your eyes on him and it helps. It doesn’t stop your heart racing or the cold sweat that’s forming against your temples, but you direct all of your focus to him because he told you to and it’s all you can do because it’s Daryl.

He’s trying to keep his features soft in feigned confidence and calm, praying some of it transfers to you because you’re shaking so much he can see it and your eyes are blown so wide that he wonders what happened to you? He’s never seen you like this before, he’s not sure how present you actually are, or the extent of the damage, but he can see that your nose isn’t in the best condition - there’s a deep gash across the bridge and there’s a bump where there wasn’t before. He’s determined to keep his eyes on yours so he relies on his peripheral vision to tell him the blood trails down, ending in a thickly caked mess down your chest. His gaze doesn’t follow the stream of crimson, instead, his eyes stay on yours as he tells you ‘I’m gonna give ya my vest, gonna put it right here until we get ya on your feet’ as he gently tucks the material in the space between your raised knees and your chest, and the chilled leather warms you in a way that’s entirely new.

“Good girl, there ya go. Lemme see what’s goin’ on with your hands.”

He inches to the side, so when you shuffle forwards slightly he can see the bloodied skin and the grey tape around you in thick layers. He’s only got his crossbow on him, so he tells you ‘I’m gonna get Rick over, alright? He’s got a knife, shh, yer fine, then we can cut ya free and get ya back.’ before calling the man over. Rick’s next to you both then, kneeling down and asking if you’re okay - Daryl nods on your behalf when you don’t seem to have the strength to.

“Look at me an’ only me, that’s it.”

He reminds you, soothes you while Rick slices through the mess on your wrists despite the fury that’s bubbling up inside the archers chest. You look terrified at the sensation - the back and forth of the blade and the pull against your irritated skin has you pale, oxygen trapped tightly in the confines of your lungs because you’re preparing yourself for pain until Daryl’s prompting you to ‘breathe’.

He’s on alert, ears perked against any footsteps, voices or gunshots he might hear. Usually he’d never have his back to the door, but Rick has his eyes towards the entrance and his crossbow is loaded and ready on his shoulder and right now you’re his priority.

“There ya go, feel better?”

You want to speak, but the simple ‘yes’ catches in your throat like a dry pill so you simply nod instead, slowly rolling your shoulders against the tightness of your muscles to bring your hands in front of you to confirm they’re actually still attached to you. The cold air nips at the broken skin but Daryl watches the cautious wiggle of your fingers and hears the quiet hum of relief that escapes you from the newly found freedom, and your downcast eyes miss the tiniest smile that lifts the corner of his lips and how Daryl’s expression softens just a little.

It’s taking a stupid amount of effort and self control to not throw you over his shoulder and just run miles and miles and miles away until you’re safe, until you’re somewhere he can run you a bath, hold you, - or not, whatever you wanted - make you a warm meal with some tea and maybe even hold your hand because he always wanted to, and he was so fucking scared that he’d lost the opportunity to ever intertwine his fingers with yours, to have you safely tucked against him. You’d only been gone a day but he ached with longing, and he still would until you were safe.

“C’mere, lets get ya up.”

He notices how your hand wraps around his vest that’s still gathered at your chest, tightly clutching a fistful of the black leather like a lifeline while your other hand positions itself against the floor in an attempt to pull yourself up, and Daryl stays low, mostly to avoid towering over you but also so he can give you a hand if you need.

If this were any other day, any other situation, he’d have unabashedly grabbed your hand to pull you to your feet but he’s afraid of crossing a new, unknown boundary and making everything worse. He knows your broken nose will heal quickly, a few weeks at most with Hershels knowledge, but this is a different sort of healing that he isn’t familiar with and he’s going to have to wait to hear you to know how to help.

He ignores the twinge that shoots through his chest when you ignore his outstretched hand.

Your body aches against every movement, like when you’d catch the flu as a child and stay in bed for days until you felt better, only to be left with fatigued, aching muscles from disuse. Wincing against the burn of everything, you see Daryl coyly offer his hand but you can’t take it - you already feel so humiliated. It feels like you’ve lost some of your dignity to have needed a rescue, to be sat in a corner so exposed, so you need to prove to yourself you’re capable of something, trying your best to subdue the want of Daryl’s hand in yours that dominates your mind.

Finding your balance on wobbly feet, you manoeuvre the leather over your shoulders as Daryl averts his gaze to the other side of the room. He listens until he’s heard the pop of the fasteners on his jacket before he turns his head back towards you, just as Rick announces ‘we’ve got company’, the urgency in his voice followed by a much louder pop, a deafening gunshot in retaliation to the ones suddenly don’t seem so far away.

Daryl’s crossbow is in his hands with remarkable speed and he’s telling you to ‘stay behind me, alright?’, and you glue yourself right behind him as he makes his way over towards Rick but all you can focus on is the jumble of deep voices that are approaching much too quickly. Rick reaches behind Daryl, handing you a loaded gun with a reassuring nod - it’s heavier than you remember, but it’s familiar in your grip. You silently pray you won’t need to aim or fire with the shakiness in control of your body.

Rick leads the way with Daryl closely behind, and you obey without question when the southern drawl directs you, telling you to stand in front of him when the gunfire seems to come from behind or when he urges you to watch out. There are multiple casualties but none of them are you or your two saviours, and you’re back at the car before you know it.

The drive back towards the prison is strange, the atmosphere thick with jumbled emotions and unspoken words. It’s entirely dark, now, only the black outline of the trees visible against the deep navy of the sky that’s void of any stars tonight - they’re hidden away, ashamed and remorseful of what they allowed to happen.

Rick’s desperate to apologise, to tell you how he wishes he’d never asked you to go on the run, or how he simply should have gone instead because this is a trauma he can’t take back - that you shouldn’t have had to go through, and that’s on him. He feels the responsibility and blame somewhere deep inside him, a failure as the leader of a group he’d sworn to protect. He grips the steering wheel harder.

You’re desperate to apologise for endangering the group, to scream because you’re so overwhelmed but you remain silent because you’re empty at the same time, there’s a medley of relief, anxiety and fear consuming your mind that it’s turned into a forcefully loud static, an unbearable cacophony painfully gnawing at the back of your eyes. You dig your nails into the palm of your hand for a shred of relief - it doesn’t work.

Daryl’s desperate to apologise, to whisper a quiet promise of revenge but he knows this isn’t the time, so he doesn’t. He feels entirely chagrined, furious that he didn’t get to you sooner, that he couldn’t prevent some prick from hurting you - no, thinking about you - anything without your permission. He tries his best to swallow his anger, to focus on the comfort of the fact you’re alive, that you’re right next to him because you asked him to be. It makes his jaw twitch but he does it.

There’s an empty space between you and Daryl and it hurts so much more than the throbbing in your nose or the ache in your hands, because that space has never existed until today - you’ve always sat shoulder to shoulder, crammed into the back of the car or lounging together in the RV laughing over some ridiculous story, but you’re not squeezed right against him or begging him to play UNO with you over the table in the RV - you’re both sat by the windows and the middle seat feels like the size of a football field and it’s devastating.

“Keep me company?” The shyness in your voice surprised him, like you’d expected him to say no, but Daryl would never deny you of anything let alone his company, so he grabbed a blanket from the trunk before joining you in the back, gently throwing the thick material over you.

It isn’t a long journey, but it’s an exhausting one and by the time you park up by the prison gates your adrenaline has completely worn off and you’re shuddering under the blanket, grasping the scratchy material for a shred of warmth and there’s a familiar uneasiness in your stomach that you do your best to temporarily swallow down. Daryl’s watching you from the corner of his eye, protective.

He jumps out first, opening your door for you while Rick marches ahead to ask Hershel to check up on you. You peel the blanket from your bloodied skin as you shuffle yourself out of the car onto wobbly legs as a result of pure exhaustion, you’re so drained from today’s events and you’re so pale - so Daryl acts on instincts, reaching behind you for the abandoned blanket on the back seat. You’re shaking as he brings himself in front of you, and you do your best to overlook the unreasonable fear that forms from his towering figure.

It’s Daryl - just Daryl. Your Daryl, the same man who specifically went into a Walmart on his last run to get you fluffy socks because you’d told him the Prison was chilly, followed by a story about how you didn’t spend a single night without fluffy socks before the fall because it was your thing. He’d stuffed his bag on the next run, he already knew the Walmart was wiped of medicine, camping gear and food, but the clothing section was almost entirely untouched and it was worth the detour because you were ‘chilly’.

The same Daryl that jokingly told you he’d build you a treehouse because ‘don’t you think it’s the best way to survive an apocalypse? Daryl, shut up, why are you laughing? They can’t climb but we can, it’s logical.’ and technically you weren’t wrong, and maybe one day he will.

He’s so ridiculously tender as he opens up the bundled blanket, gently placing the fabric over your shoulders to protect you from the breeze. It feels risky, but he’s rewarded with a small smile and a quiet ‘Thank you’ that sounds so meek but genuine and it almost floors him, and he pulls the blanket just a little more snug around your shoulders, motioning you inside to get you fixed up.

Maggie’s the first to see you, and she’s so relieved she basically runs to you, pulling you in for the tightest hug that squeezes the air from your lungs but you’re so happy to see her that you don’t mind. When she steps back she takes a moment, scanning you up and down and it dawns on her that nothing looks right - and within a moment she’s calling for Hershel, a kind hand on your lower back guiding you to the veterinarian’s cell.

Daryl doesn’t move until you glimpse at him over your shoulder, and he hates himself but he hesitates, do you want him to go with you? Would he be intruding if he joined, or do you need time to talk without him? His feet feel heavy because why is every decision suddenly so big, so critical?

Your hand reaches from under the cloak of the blanket, reaching for him with outstretched fingers. You’d only taken your eyes off Daryl for a moment in your approach to Hershel, and that moment was all it took for an unsettled feeling to rip its way through your chest and your vision to blur because you can’t be without him right now. You’re somewhere between a rock and a hard place - you want to be alone but suddenly he’s a lifeline, a lantern in the darkness of the abandoned prison that you’re being pulled towards like a moth to an open flame. Maggie’s hand on you feels comforting but you want more - and that’s exactly what Daryl is, he’s more.

Maggie watches the interaction with hopeful eyes as Daryl slowly paces over, knuckles white over the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder and his bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth, nervously wearing away the dry skin out of - habit or nerves?

There’s a part of him that doesn’t want to reach out and touch you, and he wonders if he should just follow to prove he understands your gesture because he’s been burning for your touch for so long and he doesn’t want this to be a gesture born from fear - anxiety of whatever trauma you’ve just endured, but if it’s what you want, he’ll give it to you tenfold. If it brings you even a modicum of comfort, he’d keep his fingers intertwined with yours until the second apocalypse rolled around. He’d like that, and he doesn’t realise that you’d like that, too.

Wiggling your fingers just slightly, you prompt him and when he slips his hand into yours, Maggie feels your exhale through the muscles of the small of your back as you head towards Hershel again. There’s a clamminess on both of your palms from a combination of stress and adrenaline, and it’s an awkward grip because your wrists and fingers ache and Daryl doesn’t want to hurt you, but it’s him and it’s you so that makes it perfect.

You’re both too tired, too weary to blush and tease each other like you normally would have, but it’s a different sort of intimacy that relaxes the muscles between your eyebrows and warms a tiny corner of your stomach against the continuous queasiness.

Your hands rests lazily against your thigh as Hershel assesses the damage, and you’re all too aware of the small audience that’s accumulated by the door of your cell. You can feel the tension, the way everyone’s barely holding back the questions on the tip of their tongue, what happened? Who? How? but nobody speaks, and neither do you. Daryl's thumb traces your knuckles with indistinguishable shapes, and it’s a welcomed distraction.

His hand doesn’t move from yours when Hershel points out how there’s some bruising forming under your eyes now, a clear sign of a break, he says. He tells you he could try to re-shape it, put the bone back into place - an offer you fervently decline. You’d seen far too many accident and emergency shows way back, and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to willingly let somebody crunch your nose, so you’re content with keeping the small bump.

Daryl watches you the entire time, monitoring your reactions and gauging your body language, squeezing your hand just a little tighter when you flinch against Hershel’s touches. He tries to ignore the waves of protectiveness that wash over him with every wince, but he hisses out a ‘careful with her’ when you visibly recoil against the prodding on the side of your nose - a comment that doesn’t bother Hershel because your eyes flick over from your lap to Daryl’s and he’d have to be senile to miss the way your lips twitch into the smallest smile at the comment. Maybe you find it funny, maybe you’re grateful to have somebody watching over you - either way, he’ll let this one slide.

“Whoever did this, they didn’t hold back, did they? But you’re tough. Looks like the jaw is just some superficial bruising, but it might be sore for a while.”

No, he didn’t hold back. Not at all - you can still feel the pull of your hair and the impact of his palm against your jaw when you didn’t follow his directions quickly enough.

He asks if there’s anywhere else, any other injuries. Despite the fact you’re fully aware of the pattern of cuts between your chest and abdomen, you say nothing because the sting isn’t bothering you enough - it’s the least of your worries. When the only response he receives is a blank stare, Hershel speaks to both Daryl and Maggie, asking ‘If one of you could help her clean up, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.’ and gesturing to some clean towels.

Focus seems to be a thing of the past as you simply sit and exist. Maggie comes into your line of vision but it doesn’t matter because you can’t feel anything. Daryl’s hand on yours, the mattress, the cold.. It’s all there but you’re unaffected, in an unfeeling bubble. Maybe you’re safe there, maybe you’re not. There’s no way of knowing anymore.

Going through the motions, you follow Maggie to the showers instead, because there’s vomit caked in your hair and you’d rather die than have someone else ‘clean’ you with a towel again, so you opt for the constant stream of water instead.

‘Stay?’ was all you’d managed to rasp out from your bruised throat, and Daryl followed immediately with a nod, sitting outside the shower door with Maggie as they waited.

Maggie sits with clean clothes - baggy, dark colours. No bra. Daryl dug out a clean pair of the socks you loved as if they would be a magic touch, like they would heal you immediately. Maybe he hoped they would.

“The water might open up those cuts on her chest, dependin’ on how deep they are. Might need you to help me convince her to get stitches.”

The fact that you even have cuts, even a single cut makes his blood boil. He doesn’t fully understand what Maggie’s asking though - there’s nothing he could do differently to her, or Hershel. Maggie would disagree, though. Everybody in the prison would disagree.

“She’s struggling, Daryl. I think she’s gonna be leanin’ on you after this. She’s strong, and we all know it - stronger than most of us. But this is a different kind of pain.”

She’s leaning in just a little closer to Daryl to emphasize her point. Maggie’s always hoped you two would find a deeper connection with each other, been waiting for it to happen. It was inevitable. She’s heartbroken with the circumstances and she doesn’t pray as much as she used to, but there’ll be quiet prayers uttered from her bunk tonight - prayers for healing and connection and love, despite the anger in her heart at God.

“What’re ya telling me for?”

You are strong and he knows it, he’s witnessed it daily ever since you met.

“She looks at you different, Daryl. She’s already wanting you around a whole lot more than she wants anyone else around, she must feel safe with you.”

Chewing at his lip, he wants that to be true. He wants to be safe for you, he always has, because you’re safe for him, and it’s not a feeling he was familiar with before meeting you - there was a pull that couldn’t be ignored, a pull that was even stronger now.

“How is she?”

Rick joins then, sitting opposite your two guards.

“She’s been better. Broken nose, but she doesn’t want Daddy to fix it. Bruised jaw.. Saw some bruises on her back. Her wrists are pretty raw, too. Might need stitches on a few of the cuts on her chest, but we’ll only be able to tell when she’s cleaned up.”

Rick only nods, grateful you’re able to stand up long enough to take a shower.

“More worried about her head. Mentally, I mean. I don’t know exactly what she went through, but I think we’ve all got a good idea based on what y’all saw. She’s gonna need time.”

She tells the men about ‘traumatic shock, and how it’s similar to PTSD but different. She was so zoned out Rick, she was just starin’ at the wall. Helped her out of her clothes ‘cause she just couldn’t, and I wouldn’t expect her to be alright after today either. There was a literal handprint on the back of her neck..”

Rick can only bring himself to nod, but the information makes his heart hurt. He makes eye contact with Daryl, where there seems to immediately be an understanding between the two men - The Governor, and anybody involved will pay a heavy price, tenfold what you’ve been forced to feel.

When the shower shuts off, Maggie heads back inside with the clean clothes, guiding you to your cell to inspect your now clean injuries.

////

The night drags and counting sheep does nothing to help. It’s been hours and the pattern of the springs of the bunk above are ingrained in your mind in an attempt to keep your thoughts on anything but him. You bounce between thoughts, memories, people and events but nothing’s powerful enough to keep the feeling of his hands or the whispering against his ear away. It’s exhausting but overstimulating.

The metal frame of the squeaky bed is too hostile and the rusty shade grey is far too similar to the cold Woodbury walls and it’s making you want to crawl out of your own skin, and the silence within the cell block is so awful you’d swear it’s giving you double vision. It’s all so cold and the stupid

mattress is suddenly the most uncomfortable thing in the entire world - frustration rips through you, quickly turning into anger as you twist yourself into a sitting position and the thin blanket tangles around your calf, it feels like a hand grabbing at you and oh my god, anger turns into panic and it consumes you like you’re on fire, a lit match to sensitive skin and everything inside you is gasoline.

You burn and writhe, sweating as you wrestle against yourself until you hit the concrete floor with a dull thud, your spine taking most of the impact, and the pressure around your calf only increases in your struggle but it doesn’t matter because you’re being grabbed, but it isn’t just your leg - there’s more now, large hands around your arms and you’re gasping for air but there isn’t any.

“Hey, hey! Eyes on me again, c’mon, look at me.”

Everything’s so foggy, there’s a voice somewhere in the darkness but it feels so distant, maybe the words aren’t even directed towards you. It’s familiar but barely, you want to give the voice your complete attention but you just can’t because your heart feels like it’s in your throat and you need the grip on your leg to go away, it feels like the man who forced you to your knees - a tight, malicious hold that wants to hurt you again, but even your kicking and thrashing doesn’t shake it off.

The hands around your arm are so mild in comparison, they aren’t dominating or restraining, they’re just there - a light hold around the tops of your arms, warm. The voice is there again, shushing you and you didn’t even realize you were screaming until you have to quieten your cries to hear it for yourself.

“Shh, you’re okay. It’s just me, just me an’ nobody else.”

The voice is a tether keeping you where you need to be. You’ve never heard a southern accent so soft yet so authoritative - it’s telling you again, eyes on me, and it takes all your strength to try.

Your dreary cell slowly comes into focus, blurry outlines of your bunk and the door forming hazy lines in your vision. It’s Daryl - you know that now. He’s the only person in the world to ever be so patient with you, always the first by your side. It’s like he can read your mind, he’s so tuned into you it’s ridiculous, like you’re both on the same wavelength, harmonious even on a bad day.

He watches your eyes slowly come into focus and he makes a point to breathe slowly, albeit somewhat dramatically, in the hopes you follow his lead - and you do. His hands slide down from your biceps to your forearms where they rest just above your wounded wrists, hovering slightly. He held your hand earlier because you wanted him to so he prays this is okay, that his calloused fingers don’t feel uncomfortable against your skin or that he isn’t crossing a line. He wants- no, needs you to feel him, to understand that his touch is, and always will be harmless. When he sees no fear in your eyes and feels you steady beneath him, he lets his hands fully rest around the curve of your forearm.

“It’s just you an’ me in here, ya understand?”

You respond with a nod between shaky breaths, but his raised eyebrows tell you it’s inadequate. He waits because he needs to hear you say it, needs to know that you can distinguish between the cloud of anxiety fogging your mind and reality.

Patient. He’s so patient as he sits cross-legged on the floor of your barely lit cell, giving you all the time in the world to come back to him. He feels your pulse calm beneath his grip, a slowing beat under cold but clammy skin, hears your breathing even out until it matches his. You’re looking at him in such a daze and you look so exhausted - dark circles and the bruising at your jaw a daunting contrast against your skin, he wants to brush it all away with his thumb until there’s nothing left except unblemished skin - to be the reason you don’t hurt anymore.

“Tell me ya understand. Need to hear it.”

His words are demands but he says them so softly, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel so good, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. The blue of his eyes is so him, so clear as he watches you behind unkempt waves and he acts as an achor, and all you can do is be still.

“I understand.”

The words sound so tired as they pry their way up the dryness of your throat, clawing their way up despite the tightness of your muscles. Daryl can see how much effort it takes to speak, and he nods in silent praise.

“Who’s here?”

He watches as you take a cautious look, a sweeping stare around the cell behind him. He gives your arms the tiniest squeeze in motivation. After inspecting every outline and every wall, you answer.

“Me and you. Nobody else, just us.”

You echo his words because he’s right. There’s nobody else here, despite Daryl’s presence being so overwhelming in the best way possible it is just the two of you, hidden away in the darkest corner.

“That’s right, ya wanna tell me what happened?”

“It was- fuck, it was around my leg and it just, it felt like-like him and I just, fuck.”

You slide your hands out of Daryl’s grip, bringing your hands to your hairline out of pure annoyance, clutching a fistful of hair as he shifts his gaze towards your outstretched legs where he understands immediately, nimble fingers unraveling the sheet around the bottom of your calf, letting it fall to the floor. Like it was so simple.

This is so fucking annoying, is this the life you’re sentenced to now? Crying over a sheet?

Weakness, is that what this is?

Conflicting emotions muddle together in a hazy barrier, separating fact from fiction.

Daryl’s looking at you so softly, eyebrows raised ever so slightly from his usual scowl and it changes his face entirely, and you wonder what you’ve done to deserve having his eyes on you so attentively, so caringly. He should be asleep, it’s the middle of the night, and he’s always the first one up every morning but you can’t bring yourself to send him away - not yet, anyway.

Guilt joins your already mixed emotions, because Daryl’s such a powerhouse, yet you’re here keeping the man who does so much awake for no good reason. Clutching tighter, you tug at the strands of hair still in your grasp until your scalp burns in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the cesspit of the direction of your thoughts.

“I’m okay.”

Too quick. Too unbelievable. Try again.

Loosening your grip, your hands fall into your lap in a fidgety attempt to look sane. People who are genuinely okay don’t pull at their hair, and it’s difficult but you manage.

Inhale. Exhale.

“I’m fine, really. It just- it was too similiar to, y’know.”

“Nah, I don’t know. Ya wanna talk to me about it?”

He truly doesn’t know. He assumes, but a million different things could have happened while you were captive, and he doesn’t want to assume wrong. There’s no guessing game when it comes to trauma.

“Not tonight.”

He wants you to talk about what happened - he’s always been somebody to bottle everything up inside and suffer because of it. He’s hauled memories and scars for as long as he can remember and he’ll be damned if he lets you do the same. It’s too damaging, too corrosive to carry alone and he knows that better than anyone. ‘Not tonight’ is good enough for him because it’s not a ‘never’, it’s simply ‘later’, and if that’s what you want then he’ll take it - he’d take anything you gave him.

Forcing the corners of your lips into a smile, you want to show Daryl you’re okay enough to survive the night. Daryl sees right through it - it’s the most insincere smile he’s ever seen in his life, especially when your eyes tell a completely different story.

“Okay. Not tonight.”

Sitting back, he gives you some space to acclimatize, to breathe.

He asks if you want him to stay the night on top bunk, which you decline. You convince yourself you’d be awful company because at times you don’t even feel like you exist. Other times you just want to cry and pace around your cell, and you don’t want to disturb him more than you already have.

‘I’ll be just in that guard room out here, ya know the one. Just yell if ya need me, okay?’ He tells you, emphasizing with a ‘M’ serious, ya come get me if somethin’ don’t feel right.’ as he stands in the doorway, hesitant to leave you alone.

After convincing (lying to him) that you’ll be okay, you spend most of the night cleaning your weapons and pacing the confined space of the cell that’s completely miserable. Too dark, too lonely.

Daryl finds you before dawn. He’d watched you during the night as you dragged your thin mattress from the creaky bed, out into the walkway outside your door. He was moments away from coming over, to ask what you were doing before he saw you simply lay down with your back against the wall. You had to have a different view, a different environment before you lost you mind. Hauling the mattress was easy even if you did have a headache afterwards, but the open space just felt so much better - windows, even with the discoloured bars, they were a blessing with the dark treetops in the distance. It was just a little bit easier out here, so there you sat until dawn.

In the morning, Daryl heads out, but not before checking in on you. He checks your nose and your jaw with delicate prompting, telling you to get some sleep ‘for me, please?’ even though you both know you won’t.

While Daryl’s gone, you find yourself trying so hard to exist and it’s difficult. Everybody’s trying so hard to distract you, to interact with you and give you something else to think about - and you’re grateful, but it’s so obvious. Beth talks to you the most and it’s nice, there’s no pity or questions, she just talks like she always does and although your answers are lacklustre she doesn’t complain.

“Ya alright?”

His voice takes you by surprise. There’s packs of candy in his arms, and a small, pink, fleece blanket that he places on the table, which Beth grabs. She excuses herself, telling you she’s going to give the newborn that’s currently asleep in Carol’s arms the new blanket.

“Yeah, just a bit tired but I’m okay.”

You look tired. Truly tired, it physically hurts him to see the dark shadows creeping into your face, but he knows the bruising isn’t helping your overtired features. He tries to convince himself it’s the lighting or a bad angle - the shades of purple almost look black beneath and around your inner eye, and your jaw isn’t much better.

“Hm, did ya eat?”

“There’s stew over there, did you eat??”

So, no, you didn’t eat.

It’s not quite a feeling of nausea or needing to vomit, yet it’s something more than just a ‘lack of appetite’. You don’t have a logical explanation, and you don’t try to come up with one, either.

“I’ll get some later.”

Any other day, you’d both be first in line for any meals going, relishing in the game you’d managed to catch earlier in the day. There was always a satisfaction verging on pride when you’d bring anything back, which was almost every time you and Daryl went out together. The teamwork you both shared was striking, celebrated amongst the group.

“Promise?”

Pointing his nose into the air is all the confirmation you seem to be getting, but you take it.

“What is it, are you okay?”

He’s alternating between chewing on his bottom lip, and his thumb.

“Got somethin’ to show ya.”

There’s no eye contact with his words, in fact there’s the opposite - is he.. Nervous?

Twiddling with his crossbow and biting his lip, the ground must suddenly be very interesting because it’s all he’s looking at now.

“Really? What is it?”

“Wanna see ya eat somethin’ first.”

“I already.. Fine.”

You change your course when you see the raised eyebrow. Knowing fully well he knows you’re lying, you make your way over to grab a bowl of the still hot stew, sulking as you swallow it down.

He’s quiet as he leads you outside, pebbles crunching beneath you as you make your way through the humidity towards a lone guard tower. His nerves make you nervous as you walk up the stairs behind him, but you’re so curious.

“It aint a tree house, but I know ya ain’t been sleepin’, so, uh..”

The door is held open for you at the top of the stairs, expecting to see yet another drab, cold guard tower.

“Daryl.. Oh my God.”

Oh my God.

It’s a guard tower - but it’s not drab, and it certainly isn’t cold. It’s colourful and homely and a chill runs up your spine from the thought that went into this - into the transformation he’s created because it’s wonderful. You were in this one just a few weeks ago. Rick wanted somebody to join him to finish clearing the area and the guard tower itself, and he’d asked you ‘Saw one of them in full protective gear, and I want your good aim for the job’ so you did without hesitation. There were some guns, some ammo, you’d told the group. Forgetting to tell them you’d peeled the gun from a grey corpse, the barrel aiming towards his own jaw was simply an accident.

There was no trace of that incident, now. Anything worth taking was with the group in the main prison, and the walls were.. Fluffy. Cracked windows were now draped with thick blankets acting as curtains, the floor almost entirely covered with similar fabrics and pillows in every colour. It was an absolute eyesore and you loved it.

“You did this?”

Disbelief has your mouth agape. Appreciation has you walking around, fingers tracing everything you can touch. Even the scruffier blankets feel nice, but those are over the windows, cloaking you from the afternoon sun. Tip-toeing around, you lean down to admire the absolute pile of softness at your feet. There’s so many. Light blue and knitted. Multicolour patchwork that’s just a little bit itchy to touch. Pale yellow, crocheted with thick, silky yarn.

Daryl nods with a grunt, using the excuse of chewing the nail on his thumb.

“This is.. Amazing. So amazing. The cell just, doesn’t work for me right now. I miss sleeping so badly, my eyeballs hurt. This is really for me?”

This feels magical - nobody’s ever gone to so much effort for you. There are tall candles standing atop the control panel with a box of matches right beside them, ready for nightfall.

“Course, can’t have ya in that cell right now. I ain’t like it, either. Found a Hobby Lobby while I had the car today. Didn’t know what half the shit was in there.”

You make a mental promise to pay him back tenfold. He broke into a Hobby Lobby for the sake of a few hours sleep, all for you. You knew he was soft for you, but this? Images of him lugging armfulls of fabric into the back of the beaten up little car flood your mind and you can’t help but smile at him.

When you’re done admiring, you head back into the prison to keep busy. Carol and Beth are experimenting with some of the prison supplies for dinner, so you try to be productive until Hershel pulls you to the side, to check in. He asks how you’re feeling, how you’re holding down food, sleeping, pain on a scale of one to 10.. Hershel knows you’re lying with most of your answers - you’re stubborn, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself and your situation, so he lets you go after reminding you he’s always available to talk to.

Daryl subtly observes how you play with your food, but still thankful you’ve managed some. Pushing re-hydrated mashed potato around your plate with heavy eyes and an orange glow from the fire, he’s trying to not stare but his efforts are in vain because he can’t help but shift his gaze to you, wanting to make sure T-Dog isn’t sitting too close, or that your wrists aren’t hurting too much even though he watches how you occasionally rub the tender skin.

While dinner gets cleared up, you make your way over to the archer who’s adjusting the string of his crossbow with a furrowed eyebrow.

“Busy?”

He finishes twiddling with a gruff ‘Nah’, standing to join you, crossbow in hand.

Good. You’ve wanted to slip away since the group gathered together. There’s so much love for every single individual sat around the log cabin fire Daryl built, but there were moments you were filled with exhaustion, craving peace and chunky knitted blankets instead. You adored when Beth sang, when Rick’s beautiful daughter cooed and the excitement that came with having an actual meal with friendships that were essentially family ties.

But not tonight.

Linking your fingers with his, Daryl doesn’t even consider protesting as you gently pull him behind you towards your little safe haven. As you walk, you miss the sympathetic smile from Maggie, and the one full of hope from Beth.

Once inside, Daryl tells you he can sit outside and guard, but you’re quick to remind him he can do that from the inside, too. There’s anxiety in your thoughts, nerves from wondering if those men will find you again. Find your camp, your people, Daryl. It occupies a dark, weary corner of your mind that you’re desperate to not think about for one night, you’re simply craving peace and rest. Daryl sits facing the door, quietly continuing his mission with his crossbow.

“You should lie down, too. Only one of us needs dark circles this bad, and I’m already claiming it.”

He scoffs, but oh how he loves hearing you tease. The playful edge in your voice sounds spent and dreary, but it’s still there and it sparks an entire new wave of thankfulness and admiration through his soul - feels it so deeply as he watches you gather a handful of fabric, clutching it by your chest like a child would a comforter.

He tells you he will, that he just needs to finish fixing this one part first. It’s a blatant lie - what he means is, he’s waiting to make sure you actually get some sleep. Actual rest. Not only do you deserve it, but you need it at this point. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you tell him ‘don’t take too long, okay?’ The room is so dark but you’re still so bright for him. He’s still not over the fact that somebody could willingly hurt you, someone so honest, so selfless - he can control his anger right now, mostly grateful you’re here in his company.

It takes a little while until you seem settled, when you toss and turn just a little bit less, only then does he close his eyes for just a moment, back still against the wall ready to defend against anyone who dares try to disturb you tonight.

Everything’s so bright tonight - the stars and the moon look like they’re trying to lure you in, desperate for attention against the pitch black of the night sky, and the air is muggy but it’s a welcomed distraction. Another failed attempt at sleeping finds you bundled out on the balcony with heavy eyelids and a million thoughts, but absolutely nothing you can focus on, nothing’s distinct enough or sharp enough to latch on to, so it’s easier to not try - looking at the sky is easy, and you don’t have to try, so it works.

You tried for hours. Sleep simply did not want to be your friend again tonight, and it was so frustrating. Every way you tried to lie was uncomfortable for no apparent reason, and when you felt a headache forming in your temple, you almost screamed into your pillow before remembering you had company. Daryl was slumped, a thick yellow blanket draped over his shoulders against the metallic chill against his back, despite the blistering heat that had the entire group in a chokehold every moment of the day.

“Can’t sleep?”

You’ve been so engrossed in the sight before you - the stars, the moon and just how captivating they are, that you don’t notice the footsteps of heavy boots against metal flooring behind you and you almost give yourself whiplash with the speed you turn to face the source. Daryl’s stood just a few metres away, back leaning against the frame of the open doorway with tousled hair, concern hidden behind a sympathetic expression and a question he couldn’t stifle.

“No chance, apparently. I could ask you the same question, though.”

Rubbing your eyes as you speak, you turn yourself back to the direction of the thick canopy of trees. You can feel the puffiness beneath your eyes, and the fragility of the delicate skin - a prominent display of just how exhausted you are, and you sharply inhale at the throbbing sensation that pulses beneath your fingers from the bruising.

Was it his fault that you couldn’t sleep? Was he too close to your personal space, too invading? He hesitates by the door, already fumbling over words that haven’t even formed yet, chewing down on his bottom lip as his gaze lingers on your dark silhouette.

“D’ya want me to go? If it helps ya sleep better, I can-”

As much as he wants to stay, if you need to be alone he’ll go - he’d find an excuse to be somewhat close, maybe he’d patrol the fences or collect some firewood, but not behind thick walls because he wouldn’t be able to see or hear you from inside and you might not know it yet but you’re his responsibility now. You’re fully capable and he knows it - so powerful and stubborn, passionate and perfect and Daryl's never had a single doubt in his mind about your ability to fight or overcome, and he isn’t about to start now because it’s you, and although you don’t need anybody to protect you, he still wants to. Right now you just need some time to heal and he’s consumed by the desire to help - to absolve you of the pain you’re going through because you deserve better. He would take your experiences and endure it tenfold if it gave you peace, he would kiss away the bruising around your eyes with the gentlest, most angelic brush of his lips if you let him because he only exists to make you feel better.

The words die in his throat the moment you turn back towards him, because there’s a trace of a smile on your lips as you tell him ‘No, I don’t want you anywhere but here.. only if that’s okay with you, though.’ and Daryl can hear the way you second guess yourself, the way the second half of your sentence drips with insecurity - don’t you know he longs to be by your side, aches to be yours, to get you through the turmoil you’re currently trying to dissect?

You watch as he makes his way closer until he’s next to you, crouching down until his eyes are level to yours and he shuffles himself until he’s sitting next to you, legs swinging over the edge of the balcony. There’s a warm breeze and you feel yourself relaxing into the warm gust of air, letting your head lull backwards and your eyes close for just a moment - the night sky and warmth used to be enough to pull you into a nights sleep, so why isn’t it anymore?

Your mind flashes with memories - you can feel them, hear the way your friends would laugh into plastic cups and the crackling embers of a fire, a blanket around your shoulders and the way your body would relax so deeply into the shape of your hammock that you could have slept for days. The breeze feels the same and despite your closed eyelids, you know you’re still sitting beneath the same flickering stars. You’re so deep in the memory and the calmness that corresponds to it that you might as well be back there - then it hits you that you’re not. There’s no overflowing party cups and no gossiping around the campfire, you lost your hammock long before the world fell and there’s an absence of burning ashes lingering in the air, and although you could swear you heard the repetition of jokes and laughter so distinctly that it must have been real - it isn’t.

But there’s a slight smell of smoke, and you know it’s real and you’re not losing your mind and it smells so much like your favourite evenings that you take a deep inhale, then another before slowly opening your eyes, letting the memory fade out as you focus on the stars for just a moment.

Your friends aren’t here anymore, but Daryl is.

Daryl watches you, wondering exactly where you went. He’s so content just observing you, admiring the rise and fall of your shoulders and the strands of hair that move ever so slightly in the Georgian breeze that he just can’t take his eyes away from your profile, doting on how you look beneath the silver of the night sky. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life, and when you open your eyes and turn towards him, it only solidifies what he already knew because the moonlight is reflecting in your eyes just right, and out of everything you could be looking at, you’re choosing to look at him, and when a light gust of air sweeps a cluster of hair into your face, he moves on instinct.

He’s slow as he raises his hand, and he expects your eyes to switch to his moving fingers, but your gaze remains on his as he inches closer.

You catch yourself, resisting the natural urge to simply push the rogue strands away, instead you find yourself yearning for the simple gesture - and when his rough fingertips brush over your cheek, you find yourself leaning into the friction, the way his calloused skin feels so effortless as he glides the hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. There’s a pang of something that shoots into your chest so suddenly, but as daryl’s fingers delicately trail the shape of your ear, you realize what that feeling in your chest is - it’s not fear or dread, it’s affection, and it’s blooming so intensely it’s threatening to spill over through your eyes because you’re not scared, you’re something that you can’t quite give a name to, but it feels good.

Slowly, Daryl reminds himself. Every movement is steady and gentle, two fingertips trailing one after the other in tiny little shapes and squiggly lines just below your lobe, and he swells with pride as you quietly sigh, comfortable enough to close your eyes against his touch, so he continues - mapping the contours of your face from your hairline to the slight dip beneath your cheekbone, gently tracing the discoloration along your jawline. The touch is so soft, so barely there that it almost tickles and it’s incredible. You spend minutes just letting yourself be touched, focusing solely on being in control of your emotions and how this is special, how Daryl is special and how this is completely okay and he’s not hurting you and he never would.

The archer changes his movements then, using his hand to cup your jawline, hovering lightly over the bruising, and when you open your eyes and focus on him again, he repeats the motion on the other side until he’s holding your face gently between both of his large hands, angling himself in front of you.

“Let’s get ya back inside, alright?”

You’re so pliant and warm and soft for him, completely oblivious as you relax into his hands. He’s supporting your weight with his palms as he traces his thumbs across your cheeks, every fraction of a movement is brand new territory, and he’s concentrating hard to not scare you - he’s not going to move until you do, because he might be the one touching you, but you’re in control, he’s not going to make any decisions on your behalf, no matter how small. As far as Daryl’s concerned, this is your world - he just lives in it.

You want to stay just like this, because he’s tracing over your darkened bruises with so much tenderness, and the damaged skin is so sensitive - the combination feels magical. Your gaze drops, suddenly you can feel the lethargy rest heavily on your eyelids because since when were they so heavy?

“Think you’re ready for a good night’s sleep, c’mon, let’s get you tucked in.”

When you finally nod, he’s careful as he takes one hand away first, giving you a moment to adjust to the lack of support, with just one last brush of his thumb from below your eye to your cheek before he pulls away, bringing himself to his feet beside you. Your hands slip into his outstretched ones, supporting you as you steady yourself against the dull thud of the metal beneath you, and he leads you back into the mess of tangled sheets.

There’s a moment of ‘when do we let go?’ when you’re inside, neither of you entirely sure because you simply don’t want to. Thick pillows call your name, and you’re the first to lower yourself against a velvety throw blanket, and in succession, as if he’d been doing it his whole life, Daryl follows the gentle pull of your locked hands, but he’s oh so careful to subtly leave space between your thigh and his - he hasn’t been invited to touch anything but your hand, so he doesn’t.

The softness beneath you is so potent you can feel it through your clothing, and although it feels like the most inviting thing ever, your attention quickly shifts from the gentle back and forth of his thumb over the back of your hand to the gap he’s purposely left between you, and you’re heartbroken.

Insecurity surges through every neuron in your body with so much ferocity that you feel absolutely annihilated, paralysed - your entire chest constricts, tightening at the sudden awareness of how feeble you feel, how damaged. Pulling your hand from his, your thoughts race with such force - why is there so much space between you? What did you do wrong?

You swallow hard at the lump in your throat, and Daryl watches the smile fade from your lips, and your knees pull up to your chest. He waits only a moment before perching himself by your feet, eyes on your downcast ones.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

How can he sound so concerned, so doting when you’re so.. Broken?

He’s calling your name so softly, voice just above a whisper but you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block him out. Even just his voice feels like an assault on your senses, and the small percentage of you that wants to listen is overpowered by the crushing weight in your chest, the doubt in your mind.

He waits a moment - caution at the front of his mind. He doesn’t understand exactly what just happened, but he’s going to fix it because he can see the way your hands tremble ever so slightly as they cover your eyes, hear the way your breath catches in your throat and he hates it. For every fear-induced vibration of your fingers, he vows to cause an hour of pain - no, a day, for the man who did this. He’ll slice off a finger for every cry he causes. He starts a tally in his mind.

“You’re gonna get through this, ya know that, right?”

He receives a shaky exhale in response, so he carries on.

“You’re gonna get through this ‘cause it’s what ya do best. You survive.”

Patient is all he can be right now, and he does it well. Lets you calm down, to process whatever it is you’re feeling right now without intruding, and when you finally speak, he can’t disguise the flash of anger that forms in the pit of his stomach.

“He- The Governor, when I wouldn’t tell him where my camp was, he..”

Inhale. Exhale. Again.

You can’t bring yourself to look at the man in front of you when you raise your head, quickly dragging your sleeve across your damp cheeks. Shame builds in your throat - if you don’t tell him what happened right now, this very second, you swear you never will but you need Daryl to know. If anybody’s going to know, it’s him.

“That’s when he cut my shirt off, that’s how I got the cuts on my chest. He left.. When he came back he kept asking. I would never, ever tell anyone about the prison, please trust me. I never told him.”

Daryl knows, and he tells you this as you pat the skin under your eyes a little too harshly.

“He.. He forced me to my knees, Daryl. I had to-”

You don’t bother wiping the tears away anymore as they ferociously spill over. Chills and shivers make their way down your spine as you recall the event and you can only imagine the pity - or worse, disgust that must be all over Daryl’s face right now. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t shy away from your confession, instead he dips his head lower to get your attention. When your red eyes reluctantly meet his, you’re surprised by his features - the lack of repulsion or horror, you’re astonished because he seems to have shuffled just a little bit closer, not further away, and he nods - there’s more, and he knows.

“I didn’t think I- I thought he was going to.. Until you came. I knew you’d come, but I was so scared. I was terrified. I fought back, that’s how I got the bruise on my jaw. After that he just held a knife to my throat.. Told me to be extra careful.”

Almost on instinct, your hand delicately touches the front of your neck, where you’d felt the sharp blade dig into your skin just enough to keep you docile.

“And you’ve been.. Here, right next to me ever since, and I know it’s stupid but when you sat down, you felt so far away and I thought I’d done something wrong, or that I’m.. ”

Daryl watched and listened as you spoke, heard the panic creep into your speeding up voice, saw you wince from the torment that was so clearly playing in your mind. Every word you’d just spoken had bile rising in his throat, an acidic taste to be quickly swallowed down because this is your ‘not tonight’, this is when he sits and listens. This is your experience to talk about, your trauma to unpack. He already had a vague idea of what happened - an assumption of your ordeal - and actually hearing it were two very different things. He can’t even fathom that you’d think he was even capable of thinking about you badly, that you’re..

“Broken, disgusting.. Patheti-”

“Hey, that’s enough. C’mere.”

He reaches out to you with open arms, and you sob an absolutely gut wrenching sob because Daryl’s always felt like home, and despite the voice in your head telling you how unworthy you are of his support, he’d never deny you. Shuffling into him, he cocoons you with his arms without a moment of hesitation, pulling you against him just a little more because it’s what he’s always done - he’s nervous, ready to release his hold at the first sign of unease. Instead he feels you press yourself further against him, tucking your head beneath his chin.

“Ya aint none of those things. An’ I’ll tell ya that every day if I need to, alright? Ya ain’t never, and never gonna be broken or pathetic. Sure yer gonna feel that way sometimes, don’t mean it’s true, and ya ain’t disgusting for what someone else did to ya, that aint how it works.”

Soft spoken words tickle the crown of your head as you take in the little patches of heat where his body overlaps your own, and there’s a warmth blooming in your chest like a bouquet. These words are so special, even more so because they’re coming from him, in a little hideaway he built to keep you safe.

Hearing your thoughts out loud forced him to voice his own that had accumulated over the last few days. Daryl’s no stranger to trauma, he’s masked his own distress and memories with a need to be protective - support the group, hunt, track, find shelter. There’s almost a responsibility that’s bubbled to the surface to prevent the people around him feeling even just a snippet of what he’s felt over the years, and he does it willingly, out of a love that he himself doesn’t even understand - and it’s a feeling that’s always been more prominent with you. He couldn’t let another moment go by with you thinking that way about yourself - ‘you didn’t do this, the Governor did, an’ your worth don’t change ‘cause of a prick of a man’s actions.’ Daryl’s careful as he tells you this, hoping and praying he’s choosing his words correctly. He mumbles into your hair that he’s ‘sorry about not sittin’ right next to ya, I just thought maybe to just.. I dunno, we were already’ holdin’ hands and I didn’t wanna cross no line. ‘M sorry.’ and although the tears don’t stop, the excruciating weight on your chest lifts just slightly, faintly circling his palm against your back to calm you.

“Aint nothing you could’ve ever done to deserve any of this. Nobody here thinks any different of ya, and I’m gonna be right here until you’re okay again, we all will.”

You’ve been by his side since you stumbled across their camp by the quarry. You had your sister back then, like he had Merle. Suddenly neither of you had your siblings, your best friends to survive the world with, but somewhere down the line you found solace in each other. You clung to cigarette smoke as he did your unfamiliar softness and the group could only admire from a distance - an admiration that only grew stronger, as did your affinity towards each other.

There’s a pause to his words, and before you can wonder why, he places the most delicate kiss against your hair. His stubble itches your scalp, and your heart flutters at the tender press of his lips - another source of warmth that has you raising your head and bringing your eyes to meet his.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. I didn-”

You idiot. You didn’t ask, she’s going to hate you and rightfully so. His mind floods with regret immediately, waves upon waves of quick scenarios running through his mind - will you never talk to him again? Walk away from him, never to return? His arms relax around you just slightly, ready for the inevitable moment where you pry yourself out of his grasp.. But it doesn’t happen? The inevitable doesn’t happen, and when your gaze meets his, he’s surprised.

“It’s okay.”

Delicate. Fragile. Powerful. Understanding. Pretty. Soft. Gentle. Strong. Warm. Kind. Forgiving. Patient. Loving. Accepting.

Daryl sees every single good thing there is about the world in your face. You’re telling him that it’s okay, with your tear-streaked rosy cheeks and sad smile. Loss after loss after tragedy and you’re still here smiling at him, tucked between his arms like it’s where you belong, and he’s astonished when you re-adjust yourself until you’re sat across his thighs, but astonished would be an understatement when you willingly lean your forehead against his lips - innocently pining for the feeling of him against your skin.

Giving you exactly what you want, you’re so momentarily content with the control that you have with his lips against you, exactly where you wanted him - exactly where he wanted to be. It’s pure and beautiful and he doesn’t hurt you when he places a hand on your lower back to support you, nor does he when his other hand cradles the nape of your neck. Not forcing, not grabbing you or keeping you still - but there to hold you, like his only purpose is to be a pillar supporting a temple of worship. The man who hurt you - his hands were softer, free of calluses but malicious, whereas daryl’s are rough and dry from hard work, but every single movement towards you has always been filled with grace.

The same hands that pressed over yours the first time you used his crossbow, and guided you until you got your first successful shot on a walker. He’d been proud of that moment, teasing about how ‘you’re a natural’.

The same hands you’d babied from fights - scratches and burns, wear and tear from being in a fallen world. ‘M fine, stop wastin’ shit on me’ he’d tell you, and you’d always ignore him as you dotted lotions on broken skin and wrapped him in gauze.

Those same scarred hands weren’t to be afraid of, you’d refuse to be timid of Daryl. He was capable of so much and you’d seen it. Watched him take on dozens of the dead, unafraid to take on the living with dangerous weapons to protect his people - to protect you. He was there for others to be fearful of, not you.

But even if you were afraid, were cautious he would understand. He would hide his hurt feelings because they weren’t the priority here, he would back up and apologize and leave you alone with a single word and you know this. He knows trauma, acknowledges the healing that comes afterwards even if he never got it - he’ll sure as hell make sure that you do.

There’s a long pause before either of you move, you both simply sit and breathe and soak in the closeness and admiration that’s growing tenfold every moment. Your hands ended up resting on his hips for the most part, with the occasional play of the buttons on his vest as he continued to lightly knead into the knots of stress in your neck, his lips never wandering far from your forehead.

“Tired?”

He mumbles into your hair when you yawn, tears prickling your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve slept in days. Yes, I’m tired”

Prominent dark circles are an obvious answer to his question, but he just wanted to hear the lighthearted teasing in your voice he’s been hoping for - not that you’d ever disappoint him. Daryl’s willing to stay up until dawn if sleep wasn’t going to take you, but he’s thankful at the opportunity that you might actually get some sleep tonight. You both agree to lay down, and you ruefully peel yourself away from him.

There’s an echo that rings when heavy, ill-fitting boots are pried from threadbare socks before Daryl’s shuffling, rustling blankets along the way until he’s crouched by your muddy shoes. Gesturing to your laces, he waits until there’s an unashamed smile and a giggle before un-doing the tangles, pulling them off your feet despite quiet protests of ‘Oh my God, they must smell so bad, I’m so sorry’ before joining you back against the pillows.

There must be a specific blanket and pillows store he stripped bare for your comfort, and you’re nothing but thankful when you come back into contact with chilled fleece and fluff. Pressure’s been lifted from your mind, alleviated just enough that breathing actually feels possible for the first time in days, and Daryl’s laying on his side, watching and cherishing the peace he can see between your bruises.

You join him, then. Rolling onto your side until you’re face to face, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. He asks how your nose feels - and when you tell him ‘it’s not awful, but I’m sure it looks awful, Daryl don't look at it, jeez!’ he can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. Awful is the least it feels - he remembers the day he broke his as a teenager. The man who did that to him didn’t apologise either, but he’s certain he was less bruised than you and it was tender for months.

Jokingly, you hit his shoulder and his grin kills you. There are strands of hair across his forehead and his eyes are creasing ever so slightly and you’re so flooded with the sincerity of him that you feel tears forming in your eyes again. There’s no desire to cry and you’re not upset, and you try to blink them away before he notices but he does.

You’re cocooned in a homely comfort as he grabs an extra blanket, bringing it over and tucking it below your chin, whispering a ‘thank you’.

“Look at me for a sec. I aint him. Gonna keep ya safe, want ya to know that.”

Nothing above a mumble in volume, but thunderously loud in promise. Safety and refuge abundantly thick in his words and immediately you’re curling in against his him, dragging the blanket with you until once again, you’re wedged beneath his chin, chest to chest because you want to feel his words, physically feel the shields that are his arms and hands. You don’t have to wait more than a second for reciprocation - he’s immediately understood, adjusting himself until he’s got an arm over yours and a hand cradling the back of your head. You tell him that you know.

It’s just perfect.

Innocent intimacy that just feels so right, so natural. He holds you so close, like it's a necessity, and honestly it might actually be.

Careful, gentle touches from rugged fingertips lulled you to sleep that night, and many, many nights after.

Hours turn into days, days into weeks, weeks into months.

Healing was difficult, especially when the war broke out. People - good people lost their lives. Friends were lost, blood spilled and the prison fell and things were hard.

Almost nothing was consistent - not the company, meals or housing. The sun would rise and things would change, the sun would set and things were dangerous. Daryl was consistent, though. The tips of his fingers against your skin were consistent, as were his lips against your forehead, your cheek, and one day, the very corner of your own lips.

He watched as you gained your confidence again, how you’d zone out just a little bit less every week. It wasn’t consistent. There were good days, and there were days you’d wake from paralyzing nightmares but he was there, ready to pull you against him - what’s goin’ through that head of yours, huh? He’d whisper with a gentle nudge of his fingers below your chin.

His presence was healing you, you would tell him - and he would always correct you. ‘Nah, this is all you. It’s you doin’ the hard work, not me.’ and you would always disagree, even if he was right.

2K notes · View notes

ghostfanwriter · 9 months

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💖🧰 Dirty hands pt 3 🧰💖

Part one Part two

💖 Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x Virgin!Fem!Reader

🧰 Synopsis: Joel keeps finding reasons to stay in Lincoln. And you worry about the day he leaves, but he makes sure to show you how special this whole thing also is for him.

💖 Features: 🔞, fluffy and domestic Joel, Joel fixing things for her, masturbation (m and f), soft — so soft — (kinda dom) Joel, praise, pet names, quick cumplay (for poor Joel's desperation), sprinkles of angst here and there (I hurt my own feelings sometimes).

🧰 Word count: 9.5k. I'm so no sorry about this.

💖 About this: It took me forever to find this story, but I'm so, so glad it came out how it did. This series is gonna be a bit longer than I planned, but I have some real cool ideias for the next parts. Hope you're in with me ❤️

🧰 Author's note: Life really got in the way of this series, besties, but I came out alive. I'm really happy so many of you are as engaged with this story as I am, I love them so much. I just want a domestic, fluffy, soft Joel for myself 😩🤧

Good reading, besties 🩷🫶🏻

'You're always up with the sun.'

Bill's sentence made Joel sleep with his curtains open that night. Even with all the reasons why his mind told him he shouldn't pursue you, even with the potential death trap he was jumping into.

He couldn't not think about you. He couldn't not want to be with you.

He couldn't treat you like he felt he needed to. Couldn't dismiss you or break your heart. He had to make this experience as good as he could for you. It was only fair.

He would feel horrible if you never wanted to meet anyone else ever again because an old man made you cry.

So even with all the reasons he had to just forget about your and leave Lincoln the next day, he chose to keep his curtains open instead. To let the sun wake him up, so he could see you first thing in the morning.

He remembered the day he arrived, when Bill was showing him his bedroom and he saw you hugging Frank on your bed. Your grumpy and sleepy face, your messy hair, your clothes.

It made him smile again, and this time he allowed himself to. He let the feeling that was blooming inside his chest to make its point, to show him that there was an option outside of the QZ. That maybe he could stay.

Could stay with you.

Sure, making Bill lower his guard shouldn't be easy. But he could work on that; show him that he didn't want anything wrong or inappropriate with you.

That he wanted to take care of you like you deserve. Care for you like you're his.

Have you as his.

As the sunlight filled his room, he woke up and washed his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror, last night memories floating around his mind.

He could almost feel you again, your warmth against his chest, as your body contorted and you made such pretty sounds for him. Then your soft hands stroking him, curiously roaming over his stomach and chest, how good it felt to be so close to someone again.

Not that him and Tess had ever stoped to have sex. They still did it, but not as a way to share anything, not to feel anything. Rather as a way to dismiss the bad feelings they had. They just dumped all the negativity of their lives into one another.

With you he didn't want to release anything. He wanted to gather everything he could from you, to make you feel as good as he could, without thinking about what he'd get from it.

He wanted to know you were happy, satisfied, taken care of.

He shook the thoughts as he felt them placing roots all over his heart, knowing that when the day arrived and he had to leave Lincoln, you'd be the main pebble on his shoe.

Halfway down the stairs he could already smell breakfast being prepared. He had peeked in your room, and, having not found you, he knew you'd probably be the one in the kitchen.

And he was right. As he gets close to the door, he can hear you humming one of the songs you played on the piano the previous night.

The image of himself playing a guitar while you played the piano flashed in his mind again, making his eyes soften as he looks at you.

You're wearing yet another summer dress. One even prettier than the one from the day he arrived.

He swears you look prettier everyday.

You turn around, jumping when you see him watching you from the door frame.

"Oh — God." You gasp with a laugh, almost dropping the pan in your hand.

"Morning." He says, laughing.

"Morning... Joel." You say, your voice small. Suddenly, you can feel your cheeks warm up, and it feels like all the blood in your veins came to them.

You stare at him, remembering the night before. How he touched you — or how he made you touch yourself. How you touched him, how almost ethereal the whole experience felt.

Part of you was afraid to bring it up and learn it was all a dream.

All of you was embarrassed, awkwardly standing with a pan in your hand, staring at him, not knowing how to interact with him after the night before.

You take a sharp breath in when he rushes towards you, getting confused when he walks past you, turning around to find him quickly removing a pan out of the stove.

You put the pan in your hand down at the table and run to the one in his hand, your scrambled eggs burnt at the bottom.

"At least there's more texture to them now." He says with a laugh, and you look up at him, an embarrassed smile on your face. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"Yeah, I am. Just... Gonna have to switch pans now, and what's gonna be left of them isn't going to be enough for all of us, and this is gonna be horrible to wash, and—" Your rambling is cut by his soft and low whisper.

"Baby." He calls, and you look up, finding his eyes as soft as ever. "Not talking about the eggs." He says while staring into your eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm... Good. Different, in a way. I mean, I don't know how to talk to you, or not make this super awkward." You mutter.

"It's not awkward. Are you... Okay with what happened, or—"

"No, no. I'm fine! It's not like that, no. I... I loved it. I just... I just don't know how to... I don't know it just feels weird." You stutter, feeling like you're embarrassing yourself.

"A good weird, then?" He laughs.

"Yes, a good weird." You agree. "What about you?"

"Long time since I've felt this good, baby. Was just worried about you."

"No, I'm good. No need to worry." You say shyly. "Well, expect my breakfast is ruined." You laugh, and he stares you for a second.

"Ever heard of Chef Boyardee?"

"No." You respond laughing.

"Well, he's gonna save your breakfast. Let me just grab it real quick." He says, putting the pan down and rushing upstairs.

...

He comes back after a minute, two cans in his hands.

"I was afraid Boyardee was your alter ego." You say, reading the name on the can.

"I'd never dare to compare." He says, bringing his hand to his chest in a fake humble gesture.

He opens the cans, and you two start cooking together. He insists to wash the burnt pan, as long as you watch chef Boyardee up close as it heats up in the stove while you make some orange juice.

Bill stops on his tracks when he sees you two in the kitchen. Cooking, making juice, brewing coffee, talking and laughing.

He smiles seeing how happy you are, seeing maybe he didn't made the wrong decision when he let Joel in his house.

"Our baby's growing up. Weird to think about that, right? It was never a thought before." Frank whispers from behind him, hugging him and snuggling his chin on Bill's shoulder.

"She is my baby. And it ain't Joel that's gonna change that." He replies, caressing Frank's forearm.

"She's not ours, Bill. Maybe the day's coming when we need to let her go, make her life." He says.

"Well, she can make her life inside these fences. Definitely not with Jo—" His rant cut by your short lived scream.

"It's not burning!" You defend yourself.

"Not the ravioli!" Joel fake cries, laughing as you desperately stir the ravioli in the pan, smoke coming out of the sauce, almost catching on your face.

Bill walks into the kitchen, his always heavy steps even heavier to announce his presence.

"What happened?" He asks, his eyes wide when he sees you close to the smoke.

"Oh, daddy... Joel's a disaster in the kitchen." You laugh.

"I was just washing the pan, you were supposed to watch the stove!" Joel defends himself, laughing, lifting the pan to show it to you. "If you didn't burn this one we wouldn't be going through all this right now."

You've never seen Joel laughing like this, and happiness looked good on him. You liked how his nose scrunched when he laughed and how tiny his eyes got.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he allowed himself to goof around, make jokes and just have fun.

"It's your fault! I never want you in the kitchen with me again." You say.

"Oh, you're finishing this?" He mentions the pan in his hand.

"No no no, that was your fault. You clean it." You say, turning back to your dad. "Sorry, daddy. Good morning, are you okay?" You ask, going to Bill and wrapping him in a tight hug that he's eager to correspond.

"Morning, my love." He whispers on top of your head as he squeezes you, his hand holding the back of your head protectively. His suspicious stare watching Joel.

"We're having canned ravioli for breakfast?" Frank asks laughing, slightly grossed out.

"Chef Boyardee." Joel playfully corrects him.

"We were gonna have scrambled eggs, but Joel burned them." You say and Joel laughs in defeat, shooting you a playful look. "So yeah, canned ravioli. Promise I'll cook us something nicer for lunch." You say, hugging Frank and kissing his cheek. "Morning, dad."

...

Your dads sit across from one another. You're across from Joel, your right foot is between his feet and he's running his boots lazily up and down your ankles. You can't stop smiling because of it.

"So, Joel. I was thinking we could start with the east side and work towards the gates?" Bill asks, breaking the comfortable silence — only broken before to compliment Chef Boyardee — that was set while you all ate.

"Sure. Just have some other thing l have to work on before the fence, if that's okay? We're still gonna have plenty of sunlight when I'm done. Should be quick." He says while still chewing, stuffing back his mouth right after he's finished.

"What other thing?" Bill asks, not remembering asking Joel to fix anything else that day.

"She told me about these broken doors on her bathroom cabinet. Said they're loud and don't close properly." He says, looking at you, his feet moving higher on your calves, soothing you.

"Baby, didn't I tell you I'd fix your cabinet?" Bill asks, angry to imagine Joel inside your bathroom, even angrier to imagine you going after someone else for help.

"You did. But you never fixed it. So I asked Joel and he said it should be quick." You shrug, playing along with Joel, his legs caressing yours in a reassuring way.

You didn't even know Joel was gonna fix something in your bathroom, you never told him anything about your cabinets.

Bill grunts, and Frank tries to soothe him with a sympathetic look.

You were the most important thing he had, and he didn't like the idea of you not needing him anymore.

"So, love, your dad and I were wondering, what do you think of a bonfire?" Frank asks, trying to dismiss the topic, and you smile.

"A bonfire?" You ask excited, your gaze going from Frank to Bill, and you catch a glimpse of Joel's smile on your way.

"Well, I have some spare wood, and we're gathering a bunch of things we don't need with all the fixings we're doing." Bill explains, looking at Joel, who nods. "Your dad just wanted to call it a bonfire." Bill finishes, looking at Frank, a fake annoyance in his face while he smiles at his husband.

"And you loved my idea, didn't you, honey?" Frank asks, trying to win his case.

"Oh, it sounds so fun." You giggle, and you can feel Joel squeezing your calves softly.

"A bonfire!" Frank says triumphantly. Eating another spoonful of ravioli. "This is actually really good, Joel!"

"Told you." Joel said laughing.

As soon as you're done eating Frank offers to wash the dishes and you and Joel go upstairs, Bill watching you both with concerned eyes.

...

"When did you see the doors were broken?" You ask when he walks in your room with a chest of tools, following him into your bathroom.

"When, baby?" He asks with a laugh, raising one eyebrow. Like you didn't know he was in your bathroom the night before. Like you don't remember having him in your arms, hoping that one day he'd be yours.

"No, I know when. I just mean exactly when. I never told you about it." You say, sitting on top of your toilet to watch him work.

"When I was looking for a product to clean the sink. This door made a terrible sound." He explains.

You watch as he kneels on the floor and starts unscrewing the door, cleaning and oiling its parts before screwing them back together.

"So, how's life in the QZ?" You ask when he starts working.

"Not much about it, nothing you're missing out on, for sure."

"Then why are you still living there?" You ask and he looks up at you, the crease between his eyebrows and the way his eyes wander around showing you he doesn't have a clear answer for that question.

"Not that simple, baby." He scrunches his nose. "Told your dad, we've got things there that you don't have here. Things we — grunts — need."

You smile seeing his face contort as he has to use more force to unscrew a particularly rusty part. You notice his arms flexing under his denim shirt, how strong his hands look, making his tools seem small in them. How he grunts when he makes a final effort to remove the screw.

Your heartbeat speeds up before you can stop it, and you only notice that he's staring at you when you hear him chuckle.

"And do they just give you those things? My dads say they used to have to work to gain money, and they'd trade money for things they wanted." You ask, trying to dismiss the blood burning your cheeks.

"Wasn't Frank in a QZ for a long time?" He asks.

"He was. But he doesn't like talking about it. Says I don't need to know about it." You respond. Even though Frank was way more laid back than Bill, he also had his ways to guard you from things he thought he needed to. "But I want to know about it." You add, seeing Joel's reluctancy in keep telling you about it.

"We also work there, not for money, but it's still a trade system. We can get food, medicine, parts, clothes. Whatever we need."

"Do you have nice clothes there?" You ask with more excitement than you wished to. You know it's futile, but you sometimes wish you had different clothes to wear. He chuckles before answering.

"I mean..." He mentions himself, and you turn your head.

"I think you look good." You say honestly and he smiles.

"Your clothes are much prettier than the ones there, baby. You're not missing out."

"You like my clothes?" You ask, your voice small.

"Love them. Never saw no one dress like you since this whole thing started." He whispers, sitting back on his heels and watching you with adoring eyes.

You look out the bathroom door, your bedroom door closed. No noise outside.

You bend down, kissing him softly on the lips. His left hand caresses the nape of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

"Wanna help me choose my dress for the bonfire?" You suggest when you break the kiss.

"My honor." He whispers over your lips, giving them a peck and letting you go.

...

You come back inside the bathroom with two dresses, both on their hangers.

"Okay, so we'll go by elimination. What do you think of these?" You ask, holding each dress in a hand. He's kneeled on the floor, fixing the cabinet, but he turns his torso, carefully analyzing the dresses over his shoulder.

"Blue one." He says.

"Yeah. This one's a bit too summery, too sunny." You agree, and he raises his eyebrows, nodding and humming before turning back to the cabinet.

"And what kind of jobs you do there?" You ask Joel while going back to your closet, picking the next option.

"All kinds you don't wanna know about, trust me. There's nothing about that place that's worth knowing, nothing good except those walls." He says.

You come back with the winner dress and another option, sitting on your bathtub's edge.

"Well, not when you're in it. Then there's at least one good thing." You say low with a smile, poking him with your foot, and you can see the shy smile that flashes in his face as he quickly squeezes your calves.

"Tess and I we... Leave the QZ from time to time, which you're not supposed to do, to look for things we can trade for other things. Not always for nice things, but we can always trade them again for something better."

"You're smugglers." Frank says out thin air, startling you. "Which isn't bad, I mean, the best stuff I had at the QZ came from smugglers." He adds seeing Joel's worried expression. "Tess told me about it. Told me about the kind of things you two give to guards. Not anything we need here, but maybe you'd know where to find some things for us?" He asks.

"Yeah, sure. Depending on what it is, it shouldn't be hard to find." Joel says.

"Oh! We were talking about having more fruits, right, dad? Strawberries, watermelons. Think you could find some, Joel?"

"Would have to look around, but it's not impossible." He says, making a mental note of finding you those as soon as he has the chance.

The thought of leaving Lincoln to look for things you want plays in the back of his mind, the scenario making him smile softly while looking at you.

"Speaking of Tess..." Frank interrupts his daydreams. "...she's on the radio. Wants to talk to you, seems important. She asked you to bring a pen and paper with you." He finally says what he came in to say.

Joel looks at you, a deep crease between his eyebrows, despite his overall relaxed expression. If you're really starting to know him, the crease means he's worried.

He gets up with a muted grunt.

"Oh, Joel! Which one?" You ask before he leaves.

He looks back and forth between the dresses, pressing his lips, trying to picture you in both of them. He likes how tight on top the blue one looks like, how flowy it looks on the legs.

"Blue again." He answers with a smile. "Be right back." He says directly to you before turning around, walking out the bathroom and thanking your dad for calling him.

Frank sits by your side, carefully walking around Joel's tools.

"What do you think of the blue one?" You ask him, caressing the dress.

"Hm, thought you wouldn't want my opinion." He says almost bitterly, despite his playful smile.

"Why? You always help me choose my dresses." You say, furrowing your eyebrows, his expression softening.

Deep down he felt the same as Bill.

You always needed them, always looked for them for guidance, advice, help, comfort, love. It hurt to think of you not needing them anymore, of losing you.

"Nothing." He says quietly.

"Are you upset because I asked for Joel's opinion?" You ask, and he realizes just how silly the feeling is. You're just picking a dress.

"Well I... Argh, I am, love. Can't lie to you." He hugs your side, squeezing your head on his chest playfully. "You don't need my help anymore, you're not my baby anymore." He says dramatically, making you laugh.

"Oh, no! I don't love you anymore, dude. Let go of me!" You playfully say, acting like you're trying to get away from him but ultimately snuggling even closer to his chest.

"I love you. I'll always asks for your opinions on my dresses." You laugh.

"Well, to be fair. The blue one is the prettiest between those two." He admits. "How are things between the two of you?"

"Great. He's so nice." You say with a silly smile.

"Can tell you look happier. And so does he. Never seen him laugh like I saw this morning." He says.

You remember his face when he arrived. Serious and suspicious of everything about the town. How you only saw him smile three times that day; when you two met, when you said you were going to bed and when he saw you with Frank.

But as soon as you think about that day your chest tightens.

Tess.

She came with him. For some reason didn't stay. Was she looking for something while he was there, or did she return to the QZ? Was she coming over? She said she and Joel were just friends, but what if they weren't?

You whimper softly, your stomach hurting out of a sudden.

"You okay, love?" Frank asks, pulling away to look at your face.

"Yeah, just... Do you know what Tess wants with Joel?"

"She didn't say, love. Maybe she just wants to know why he didn't go back to the QZ yet."

"Wasn't he going to stay here for a while? To help you and dad?" You ask, confused.

"Well, yes. But she didn't know that. He was supposed to leave yesterday." He said, caressing your arm with his thumb. "But he kept finding reasons to stick around. New things that need fixing, the car's weird noise, now the whole fence. I wonder what — or who — made him want to stay." He squeezes your arm and you smile shyly.

"But why does she care?" You ask, an unexpected annoyance in your voice.

"Darling... Joel and Tess they... They used to be a couple." He says, careful, like he could see his words stabbing you. "She cares about him. She's worried, she doesn't know us, maybe something could've happened to him."

"Do you think he cares about her too?" You know it's a stupid question. Of course he does. It's Joel.

But it hurts to imagine him doing to her the same he did to you. Sharing the same.

Frank gives you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening and his lips falling open, like he's thinking of what to tell you.

"Do you think I'm silly, dad? Do you think he's just gonna leave and never come back?" You ask, thinking about what him and Tess must be talking about.

"I don't know, love. I heard him and dad talk about some of the houses in here." He sighs.

Should he even be telling you that?

'Is he thinking about staying?' You ask yourself, your puppy eyes making Frank kiss your forehead lovingly.

"Only he can tell you that, my dove."

Sometimes you think your dad can read your mind.

You think about what Joel told you.

'We've got things there that you don't have here.'

Could he ever not live in the QZ? Would he ever want that?

"But can I give you an advice?" He asks softly and you nod. You're taking any help you can. "Slow down a bit. Don't think too ahead, don't nourish any hopes or fears about what's gonna happen." He says, looking deeply into your eyes. "Joel has his life outside, you can't forget that. I really, really, my love, hope you don't come out hurt of all of this. And the only way for it not to happen is you being careful. Don't engage in feelings he hasn't displayed to you."

"Don't create expectations then?" You ask, trying to make sense of his words.

"Yes, sweetheart. Feel your feelings, but don't ever run over them. Don't expect what you want to happen to turn out exactly how you wish." He adds. "Like about him staying. Don't expect it but also don't suffer thinking it's impossible before he tells you exactly what he's thinking. Don't put yourself through unnecessary pain."

Before you can say anything else Joel walks back in, a mix of annoyance and worry contorting his face, that softens instantly as his eyes find you.

"Blue one?" He asks with a silly smile and you nod, an even sillier one in your face.

"Blue one."

...

It's hard to follow your dad's advice.

Because it hurts too much to think of not seeing him anymore.

And that's exactly what you do for the rest of the day.

You watch him fix the fences with your dads while you hurt your own feelings, thinking about him leaving, about him with Tess, about him doing to her what he did to you. What you only did with him.

It hurts to think maybe he doesn't care about you the same way you care about him. Because you can't stop thinking about him. You're more attached than you ever thought you'd be to anyone besides your parents.

It hurts to think about him leaving you...

...forgetting about you.

He noticed how quiet you were during dinner — it was quite hard not to. And he found strange just how much he missed you, even though you were right in front of him.

How you didn't make any silly jokes or laughed at the ones your dads made. How you didn't give him your leg when he reached for it under the table, like he did during breakfast. How you wouldn't catch his gaze when he looked at you.

He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger in exactly what happened.

After dinner you kissed your dads goodnight and went straight to bed, no piano, no songs, no anything, despite their protests.

Maybe something happened while he was fixing the fences with Bill. He hadn't seen you since he left your bathroom.

"Is something wrong with her?" He asks your dads as soon as you go upstairs. They both shrug, and Bill can't help but wonder... Why does he even care?

You brush your teeth and lie on your bed, throwing a pitty party for yourself, feeling silly for engaging in such unrealistic expectations.

Joel had his life in the QZ...

...with Tess.

He wouldn't just give everything up for you, to stay in Lincoln.

It's hard to follow what Frank told you, to not feel bad, to ignore the discomfort in your stomach everytime you thought about Joel.

You quiet your thoughts when he opens your bedroom door — that you never seem to lock anymore —, finding you laying on your bed, almost curled in a ball, your back facing the door. Trying to keep your eyes dry.

He walks in carefully to not startle you, going around the bed to see if you're awake.

Your eyes start watering as soon as you see him.

"Hey, baby." He says softly, squatting next to you, keeping his distance. "What happened?" He didn't need you to say you weren't okay, he already knew that. He just needed to know what got you like that.

You don't say anything, aware that any words you said would make you cry.

"Can I sit with you?" He whispers, still not touching you.

You nod, moving your hips back to give him room to sit. You knew that no matter how much you tried to stay away, you'd feel him pulling you close, like there's a magnetic field between you two.

He sits down in front of your stomach and you pull your thighs closer to his back, keeping him close to you.

He moves his hand slowly, giving you time to push him away, gently touching your hair, pulling it behind your ear.

"Do you wanna talk?" He asks, his voice softer than ever.

"Do you?"

"I want to do whatever you want, baby." He whispers, caressing your hair, almost making you sleepy.

"I want you to stay with me."

"I can stay until you fall asleep. But I can't sleep here with you." He responds.

Not the stay you were thinking about. But it works for now, and you're glad he didn't pick up on it.

"Can you lie with me?" You ask shyly.

You weren't mad at him. You were just afraid to get too attached — even more than you already were, and to suffer too much when he left.

But you can't deny yourself what you're craving.

"Anything you want, baby." He leans down to press a kiss on your temple, bringing his hand to your hips, squeezing you gently and turning you around, your back facing him.

"Is this okay?" He asks, laying down sideways behind you, staying away and not touching you.

"Uhum."

He supports himself on his elbow and strokes your hair gently.

"Are you cold?" He asks, touching your cold arm, and you nod. He sits up and grabs your blanket by the end of your bed, covering you with it and supporting himself back on his elbow.

He's far from you, and you scoot back closer to him, pulling the blanket that's pooling between you two over him.

"Wearing my shoes, baby." He says, afraid of getting your blanket dirty. He kicks his boots away and and moves his body closer to yours.

Dropping his head on the pillow behind you, he slides his left arm underneath your head, letting you use it as a pillow. He hugs you and curl his legs, curling yours along. Fully spooning you.

In a way it reminded you of when you were a child and your dads would let you sleep in between them during a thunderstorm. How the same feeling of calm and safety takes over you.

You do your best to snuggle into him and find comfort in the new position, eventually relaxing into his arms as his right hand comes underneath your face, cupping your left cheek, pillowing it. You snuggle your face on his hand, kissing his palm gently.

You indulge in the intimacy you two are sharing. In how warm you got because of him, how his calloused hand feels under your cheek, how your bodies seem to fit in perfectly within one another.

How you can subtly feel his heartbeat against your back, how you try to match your breathing with his, enjoying the way his chest raises and falls behind you. How his smell invades your nose, how his hot breath sends chills down your spine, how his strong arms hold you so tight.

You stay tangled for a while before you gather the courage to talk to him.

"Joel?" You ask gently and he hums in response. "Can I ask you something... about Tess?" You almost whisper, afraid of ruining everything.

"Sure, baby. What about her?" He responds, his thumb caressing the skin under your eye.

"Are you two dating?" You ask but regret instantly as you feel him chuckle behind you.

He gives your face a light squeeze before turning it for you to look at him. You feel vulnerable with him being so overpowering, moving you so effortlessly, his body engulfing yours so nicely...

"Is it because she called me earlier?" He asks, a smile on his face as he brings you back to reality. You only nod, not sustaining his gaze anymore. "Do you think I'd be here with you if we were together? Think I'd do this to her? To you? Lie to you like that?"

"I don't know." You whisper, hating how weak your voice sounds, barely making its way out of your mouth.

"Baby, Tess and I we... We were a couple, haven't been for a long while now." He explains, sincerity spread all over his face.

"Did you do to her what we did last night?" You ask, your stomach turning to imagine him doing that to someone else.

Realistically, you knew he had. But it still hurt to think about it.

"No, baby. Not what we did yesterday. That I never did to nobody." He answers and you look away from his soft eyes. "I'm not lying." He squeezes your cheek gently, making you look back at him. "Yesterday it was all about you, making you feel good. And sex with Tess was about releasing frustrations, sadness, anger. Distracting myself." He explains. "I'd never dump those negative feelings on you. I wanna make you feel good, wanna see and hear you feel good. I loved doing it, but it wasn't about me. It was all about you." He says softly, his eyes wandering from your eyes to your lips.

It feels like you're melting in his arms. His words disarming you entirely, making you want to feel him again. To share that again.

"Can you kiss me?" You ask, hope coating your request.

"Anything you want, angel." He whispers as he lowers himself, gently connecting his lips to yours.

The tingling of his beard on your face makes you lean in further onto him, pulling him lower on top of you as you lie back down.

You open your mouth, kissing his lower lip, making him deepen the kiss, rolling his tongue around yours, and gently grabbing a fistful of your hair.

His tongue tangling with yours make your insides burn with need, and your hips instinctively roll against his crotch, making you moan when you feel his still soft cock inside his pants. His hand comes from your hair to your waist, holding you still.

"Baby." His voice sound deep and aroused as he breaks the kiss, softly panting as he talks to you. "We don't have to do anything. We can go slow, slower than we're going. I'd love to just lie down with you tonight." He stares softly at you, his thumb caressing your belly.

"I want you, Joel. Want to feel you before you leave." You say, cursing at yourself when you realize what you've just said.

"Not going anywhere, baby." He promises, furrowing his brows before kissing you again, deeper and more passionately, making you moan into his mouth, his hand exploring your curves and your stomach, its roughness erupting chills on its tracks.

You can't stop your hand from reaching for him when he grabs one of your breasts, gently massaging it through your shirt. He pulls back when you touch his crotch.

"You first, angel." He says, removing your hand and kissing your neck. Then your shoulder, your collarbone. His hand softly pulls on the hem your shirt.

"Can I?" You respond by removing it, laying back down, your back still facing him, your hand reaching back for his hair, running your fingers through it.

His hand finds your breasts again, kneading them before he lifts himself behind you, sliding underneath your right arm to place ghostly kisses first around them, circling his way closer to your nipple, looking into your eyes for any reluctancy before he moves any further.

Not finding any and feeling how you pulled gently on his curls, he licks around your nipple once, still looking into your eyes. When you moan, he takes it in his mouth, humming at its softness. You whimper at how his beard scratches your skin.

The new and soft sensation of his tongue on you makes your clit burn between your legs, that you're pressing against one another, looking for some release for the almost painful need you're feeling.

He squeezes your hips, gently at first, but more and more firmly as you pull on his hair, his lips sucking tightly around your nipple, opening and closing around it, like he's trying to drink from it.

"More, Joel. Please." You whimper, your head spinning as you drown in simultaneous under and over stimulation.

"Want me to touch you, baby? Wanna feel my fingers on you?" He asks, letting go of your nipple, his voice breathy and raspy, and you whimper in response. "Would love to feel you, baby. Know you're so wet for me already. Wanna make you cum on my fingers." He says while tracing kisses from your breast to the back of your shoulder.

"Yes, please. Yes, Joel." You say eagerly, desperately almost. Making him laugh amusedly and spread your legs, pulling your right one over his hips. Slowly running his hand from your hip to your mount, the mere warmth of his hand making you grind against it.

"So desperate, baby. Gonna take my time, make you feel so good." He pants on your neck, lowering his hand even more, drawing soft circles around your clothed clit, earning weak whimpers and moans from you. "Let's take this off." He says, pulling on your pijama shorts, and you lift your hips to help him.

He pulls your leg back over his hips and caresses you through your panties for a bit, running his middle and index fingers up and down your folds, teasing at your entrance, softly pressing on it.

He palms your folds, gently squeezing your pussy. "So good, baby." He praises, his lips never leaving your neck. He runs his fingers of the elastic of your panties, playing with it. "Is this okay?" He asks, his fingers carefully sliding underneath them.

Your moan is enough of a green light.

His rough fingers make their way under your underwear, ghosting over your mount, then your folds. Finally finding the crease between them, gently touching your clit before spreading your folds, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

"Dripping already, baby. We haven't even started yet." He teases, nibbling at your ear and making you giggle. He laughs behind you. "Goddammit, baby, I..."

He stops himself with a grunt before he says too much, before he lets out something he's been pondering on, a feeling he's not managing to prune as it grows roots inside him.

He circles your clit again, just his middle finger rolling lazily over it. He uncovers it from the skin on top of it, making your whole core burn for him, the rough textured of his fingers on such a sensitive spot making you pull away with a whine.

"Sorry, baby. Too much?" He asks, kissing your shoulder, and you whimper in response, getting close to him again. "It's okay. We won't ever do anything that doesn't feel good."

He goes to your entrance and draws circles over it, slowly pushing the tip of his middle finger inside you.

"This okay?" Comes out in a whisper on your neck.

You love how he's always making sure you're enjoying what he's doing. Always checking in on you.

"More, Joel." You manage to put out.

"Okay, but just one, alright? We can work on two later." He says and you nod. You just need something from him.

He french kisses and bites on your shoulder while he pushes in, your walls engulfing him. You moan when his finger goes fully inside you.

It's so much bigger than yours.

He groans as he spreads his palm over your pussy, squeezing it quickly before gently thrusting his finger in and out of you.

"You feel so good, baby. So tight around my finger." His breath fans on your neck, and you have to swallow back a loud moan when he curls his finger, just like he taught you last time, hitting an even deeper spot than you managed to.

"Shh, real quiet, angel." His thumb finds your clit and he caresses it lazily, his finger moving slowly against your walls, your hips moving to try and ease the burn.

You feel his erection against your ass and your hand looks for him, grabbing him through his pants, earning a grunt, moaning when you feel how hard he is.

"Wanna feel you cum like this, can you try that for me, baby?" He asks while he fasten his movements, each thrust deeper and faster, each curl tighter and each circle around your clit more desperate. His hips bumping against your hand while you try to work him.

"Joel." You moan softly when your body starts contorting around him, your core burning as your hips move against his hand. "Please, let me do it." You plead, struggling to open his belt with just one hand.

"Fuck." He curses while he lets go of you, desperately opening his belt and freeing himself. He helps you remove your panties before carefully pulling you back in his arms, spooning you. His left arm underneath your head as his right arm pulls your leg over his hips again, his cock pressing against your ass, his hips grinding against you.

You stroke him slowly, spreading his precum all over his length, giving a special attention to his tip.

Just like he taught you. His grunts a sign you've learned just right.

His hands return their work, one on your pussy while the other alternates between caressing your hair and kneading your breasts, and you can feel his strong arm contracting underneath your face as he moves.

He notices your hand around him and your breathing both getting more erratic, an almost painful look in your face.

"Relax, cum for me, baby, let me feel you. I'm right here, I've got you, just let it come." He coos, and you twist your hand around him, making him thrust into it.

Being so close, so tangled, so vulnerable with him overtakes you, and your orgasm builds like a wave, slow and steady before crashing against your core, making you forget everything that wasn't Joel.

His smell, his warmth, his hot breath on your neck, his sounds, his rough fingers, his hardness.

You bite his arm that's under your head in an attempt to quiet yourself as he engulfs you with it, holding you tight and close to him, whispering praises and curses on your ear, thrusting slower and deeper into your hand.

"There we go. Feels so good around my finger, baby." He coos while you contort under his embrace.

He grunts as you probably squeeze his cock a bit too hard while you cum.

"Even prettier like this, my pretty girl." He praises as he pulls out of you, your arousal leaking all over your leg and butt.

"Making such a pretty mess for me, baby, look at this. You're gonna feel so good around me, angel." He thrusts into your hand again and shows you his finger, glistening and wrinkled from being inside you for so long, coated in your juices.

He sucks on it, furrowing his brows and humming at your taste, an amused smile on his face. His hips buck forward while he laughs, looking adoringly down at you.

"Taste so, so good, my baby, goddammit." He pants, and you wanna see him do it again, so you let go of him and gather some of your juices, bringing your fingers to his mouth.

He's quick to suck around them, rolling his tongue around your fingers and giving you a peck on the lips.

He thrusts forward again and his cock slides against your folds, making you both moan. "Hmm. Thank you, angel." He smiles on your lips, spraying kisses on your collarbone and your throat, his hips moving at a slow pace, savoring how you feel against his cock.

"So soft. So wet for me." He praises, hugging you, squeezing your waist and your breasts, moving his hips with more intent. Your belly clenching when his tip brushes against your sensitive clit.

"You like this, baby? Does it feel good? Feels real good to me." He breathes on your hair, his voice deep and raspy.

His right hand comes back underneath your face, and you snuggle against it, weakly bitting his palm and indulging on its texture against your skin.

It all feels amazing. The contrast between his rough, calloused hands and his soft, wet and warm cock rubbing against your pussy making you see stars. He feels so, so good.

"Feels so good, Joel." You moan.

"Close your legs real tight for me then, baby." He instructs and you do, pressing your thighs together, feeling his cock pulse between your legs. "There you go, good girl. Making me feel so good, baby." He says as he picks up his pace.

He fucks your folds for a while, grunting and moaning behind you as his cock opens it's way through them, spreading them and brushing his tip against your clit. The way his strong arms keep you close to him make you start rolling your hips instinctively against his cock.

He changes his pace to meet your hips, setting a passionate and deep rhythm, and you can hear the wet sound of your bodies pleasing one another when you move just slightly harder.

When you start to really enjoy yourself he suddenly stops, laying you on your back and climbing on top of you. He spreads your legs, making room for his broad frames between them.

He looks so big, so strong above you. You run your hands on his arms, frustrated that he's still fully clothed while you're so exposed for him.

Not that he makes you feel bad like this. No... It feels actually strangely good to be fully naked under a fully clothed Joel Miller.

He notices you mesmerized by him and just stand above you, kneeled between your legs, admiring your own exposed body.

To think that he did everything he's done to you without having to remove a single piece of his clothing is impressive.

But you need more, you want to see him, to feel his skin against yours. If feeling his hands and his mouth feels good, you know you're gonna be lost when you feel his bare chest and stomach burning your skin.

You undo the first button on his flannel, and he laughs.

"You look so sweet, so pretty, my baby." He praises, fixing your hair and leaning down to kiss first your cheek — right besides your nose, under your eye — , then another one on your lips. A sweet and lovingly kiss. You use the proximity to finish undoing his flannel, moaning frustrated when you notice the shirt underneath it.

You pull on it's hem, and thankfully he doesn't protest, just standing on his knees and letting you remove it.

You moan when you lie back down and look at him. He wonders if he's wrong when he sees the way you look at him.

As he got older and older people seemed to want to see his naked figure less and less. And to have you looking at him like that... Set a whole new branch of roots inside his heart.

You run your hands up his sides and his chest, and he closes his eyes at the feeling of your warm and soft hands. It's been a long, long time since he felt like this. You cup his cheeks and he lowers himself on top of you.

Having him on top of you is everything you hoped it'd be.

He's soft, warm and heavy.

So deliciously heavy.

You moan at the feeling and he holds himself higher, afraid to hurt you, but you pull him back, even lower, needing his weight to crush you.

You can't even breath properly, and you love it.

You wrap your arms around him, running your hands on his back and squeezing his shoulder blades. He does the same, his arms snaking underneath you, holding you like he was afraid you could ever think of going away from him.

If it was up to you, you'd never leave this bed again, this position, this man. Every kiss he places on your neck makes you roll your hips and squeeze him between your thighs.

He lifts himself a little and guides his cock between your folds again, spreading them apart and thrusting through them, pressing his cock against you with his thumb.

"Fuck." He pants as he slides his tip over your entrance. "Can't wait to be inside you, baby. Never gonna leave you again." He says, biting your jaw softly.

The promise makes its way to your heart, the thought of belonging to him, being with him, taking care of him and being taken care of consumes you, making you roll your hips on him.

"Please Joel. I'm ready, I want to." You plead, holding his arms.

He laughs.

"No, baby. You may be, but she's not. Look at this." He says as he presses his tip on your entrance, making you clench instinctively at the invasion and whine in pain. "You need to learn how to relax for me. Need to get used to being close to me like this. I need you to be sure about it." He says as he kisses your hand that's squeezing his shoulder.

"I am, I want you." You say, feeling as he slides the very tip of his tip inside you, grunting at how tight you feel around him. He thrusts slowly, just the tip going in and out of you.

And you have to give it to him... It feels like a lot. Even just his tip requires a considerable stretch, and the thought of having him almost carving your insides to make room for himself makes you clench around him.

"Shit — grunts — fuck, baby. See? She needs more time, I don't wanna hurt you." He says as he lowers himself to press a sweet kiss on your cheek, right besides your nose, pulling his tip out of you and sliding his cock through your folds again.

You moan when you feel his now much wetter tip brush against your clit.

He pulls your left leg up, bringing your knee close to your chest, caressing your thighs, not stoping his movements. You whimper as his weight sinks you down onto the mattress, and you wrap your arms around him, digging your nails on his shoulders, pulling away when he grunts from it.

"Sorry." You moan, afraid you've hurt him.

"No, baby. C'mon, squeeze me, it means you're liking it." He reassures you, thrusting slower and harder, pressing his hips deeper on top of you and bringing your other leg up.

"I wanna see it, Joel." You breath, holding firmly into his shoulders, your brows furrowed as you push him away, looking down where your bodies are connected.

"Yeah, baby? I love seeing it too. You look so pretty all spread for me like this, all ready and wet for me." He pants, touching his forehead to yours, looking down.

His hips get more erratic with every thrust, his hands supporting him up and squeezing you as he lowers himself on top of you again.

"Gonna make me cum, baby. But I wanna see you do it again, think you can do it for me?" He asks, his voice low.

"Yes." You moan, focusing on how good he feels rubbing against your core.

"There you are, such a good girl for me." He praises, kissing your neck, fastening his movements even more. "Gonna feel so good cumming under me, with my cock for the very first time, baby. Give it to me, c'mon." He says, moving your hair away from your face and cupping your cheeks.

The constant and relentless pace he sets along with his praises becomes too overwhelming, and you bite his shoulder to not scream when you cum, clenching and convulsing around air. Crying out in pleasure, droll dripping down his shoulder, tears running down your cheeks.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. I know it feels so good, doesn't it?" He coos.

His hand that was on your cheek now supports your head up against him, caressing your hair softly, soothing you.

"Goddammit, baby. Can feel you pulsing on me." He says, staring down, watching himself slide through your dripping folds.

You only moan in response, letting go of his shoulder and kissing the deep mark your teeth left on it.

"Gonna cum for you, baby. You did so well for me, such a good — grunts — fucking girl. My... All mine." He stutters, not being able to form comprehensive sentences anymore. "Can't do it like this, no. Fucking can't." He pants before dropping to your side, stroking himself deep and fast.

You watch his strong torso as it raises and falls heavily, curses and senseless words falling from his lips.

But when he calls you... By your name, a breathy and passionate moan... You can't help it.

You reach for him, wrapping your hand around him.

"Fuck, just like last time, baby." He instructs before running his fingers through your hair and caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Such a pretty girl. I'm so fucking — grunts — lucky, angel."

His praise makes you fasten your movements, twisting your wrist around him and rolling your hand around his tip.

"Joel?" You call and he groans in response, looking at you. "Can I put it in my mouth this time?" You ask, using that goddamn voice to try and convince him.

"Jesus — no, baby. No mouth." He pants, fighting the words as they leave his mouth.

God, he loves how much you want to suck his cock. He fucking loves it.

You tighten your grip when you feel him pulse, craving more of the sensation.

"Shit — fuck. Like that, baby. Gonna make me cum for you."

When you feel him twitch and you see the first stream of cum spurt out his his tip...

...you forget everything he told you. You notice his eyes closed shut and lower yourself, opening your mouth in front of his tip, drawing a circle around his tip with your tongue.

He doesn't taste as bad as you remembered.

His hips immediately buck into your face, a gutural sound leaving his throat.

"I said no — grunts — fucking mouth, baby. Goddammit." He says, his hips thrusting up, his hand fisting your hair, but not pulling you away.

You keep licking around his tip while he cums, leaking into your mouth and your hand. You don't keep anything in your mouth, letting it all fall down on your hand and his crotch.

You look up at him and find his eyes on you. Instead of feeling shy, though, you smile, sucking around his tip for the first time, and he spurts one last time inside your mouth with a grunt.

"Fuck, baby. Felt so fucking good." He says when you feel him start softening in your hand. He fixes your hair lazily while you lick your lips, drinking what was dripping down your chin. "Doesn't taste gross anymore?" He teases, seeing how focused you are in drinking every drop of him that's on your face.

"Tastes better directly from you." You lie, only taking it into your mouth because you like how he looks at you when you do so, holding back a bitter expression when you taste more and more of his cum.

Although you have to admit... It does taste better than last time.

"Come up here, angel." He calls, pulling you on top of his chest. "You okay?" He asks while looking deep into your eyes.

You nod. Okay is nothing compared to how you feel right now.

You feel like you're floating, like you're in a transe, like jelly.

You kiss his chest, snuggling your face on him.

"Are you feeling better?" He whispers on top of your head, his hot breath on your hair.

"I feel so good, Joel."

"You do? And you're not gonna thank me, baby? I thought you had better manners than that." He teases, laughing softly underneath you, your body going up and down along with his chest.

"Thank you, Joel. Thank you too." You lightly tap his softening cock.

He laughs. There's the sillyness he missed during dinner.

The playfulness he knows he'll miss the most when he leaves you.

If he ever manages to leave you.

"Our honor, baby." He squeezes you tighter and kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around him, feeling sleepy already.

When he feels you soften on top of him and your breathing get softer, he softly scratches your head.

"Hey, baby. Can't sleep like this. Gotta clean you up." He whispers, rolling you on the bed, on your back, and kissing your pout with a smile before going to your bathroom.

You admire his naked figure. His strong back, his broad — so broad — shoulders, his strong legs. He looks like a sculpture, like a God, almost.

And you'd be lying if you said you couldn't describe what you feel for him as almost devotion.

Your blasphemies are cut when he walks back in, already clean, with a cloth in hands. He climbs on top of the bed and spread your legs, caressing your thighs.

"So pretty." He praises when he cleans you, softly to not hurt you. Laughing when the cloth touches your clit and your body jerks up.

He finishes and kisses your belly, right above your mount, going lower and pressing a kiss on your folds.

"Joel." You moan.

"Sorry, baby. Don't wanna make a mess again." He teases you, lifting himself.

"Can you do it? Put your mouth on her?" You ask, a new spark of arousal hitting you at the thought of his warm mouth on you.

"Can't wait to, baby. But not today. No. Now the only thing you're gonna do is sleep." He puts his pants and his shirt back on before grabbing your panties and your shirt.

He dresses you back up and lie down behind you, spooning you again, his right hand coming underneath your cheek, pillowing it.

You moan at how good it feels to be so close to him. At how vulnerable you can be with him, knowing he won't move one finger unless you're okay with it.

You fall asleep faster than any other night since he arrived, only waking up for a slip second when you feel him carefully letting go of you. And you feel colder, but you know he can't sleep with you.

He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering something muffled before leaving your bedroom.

...

When he lies on his bed he seals his fate. He can't stay way from you. He doesn't want to.

The whisper on your cheeks more a confession to himself than to you.

"I think I love you."

It reverberates in his chest, a feeling he thought could never bloom again in his infertile heart. A feeling only you could sow on him.

Please, please let me know what you think about it. I love reading your thoughts, reblogs, asks and comments on this series 🩷

Hope you liked it, have a wonderful day, besties 🩷🫶🏻

My Masterlist 🩷🪷

Been a long while since part two, so I'm tagging some people that seemed to really like this series so far 🫶🏻

@pedritoferg @cleopatra99 @samsamsantos @thecaptainpandabear @blooodmoonbarnes @yourwinchesterbros @walkintheprk @cruelfvkingsummer @laiisleitte

#joel miller x reader #ghostfanwriter #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x virgin reader #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #i just want domestical and soft joel #soft joel miller #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal's characters #joel miller writing #dirty hands

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artful-aries · 1 year

Note

Can I please have How they flirt headcanons for zhongli scaramoche and Childe? Thank you in advance 🤗

Hello hello!!! I have no excuse for taking so long to put out content other than my job killing me and getting distracted with oil painting

How They Flirt With You (Zhongli, Scaramouche, Childe)

Zhongli:

His flirting is as refined as osmanthus wine

He is very gentlemanly when he flirts; chaste, grazing touches, deep, meaningful looks, and his willingness to jump at your beck and call are very prevalent as he seeks to woo you

Zhongli wouldn’t overload you with compliments, that would make it seem like he only cares for your physical appearance or that he is too obsessive. When he does compliment you, it is pure poetry that falls from his lips

“Your eyes shine like the purest noctilucous jade. For all of the wonders of Teyvat, you are certainly the most captivating.”

He knows his compliments can come off pretty strong in their own right, which is why he keeps them to a minimum unless he is absolutely sure that you are okay with it

None of his flirtations would come across as needy or desperate, he is calm, cool, and collected as he effortlessly but respectfully flirts with you

Being as old as he is, he does not clam up when it comes to things of this nature, nor is he afraid of the possibility of rejection. It’s all part of the mortal experience that he wishes to see more of

The unfortunate part of Zhongli’s flirting is that he can be incredibly long winded and wind up telling you the whole history of processing silk flowers into usable fabric before he can think to stop himself

He tries to pay attention to what you’re interested in, but if a topic comes up that he’s knowledgeable about, he can’t help himself but to delve deep into the topic with you

It’s not that he’s trying to show off in a conceited way, but Zhongli does like showing you that he is knowledgeable and capable in a wide variety of subjects. He just has a hard time reigning himself in once he gets started.

If you decide to flirt back with him, his demeanor isn’t going to change much other than he’s going to have a soft smile permanently plastered to his face

The way you flirt amuses him, but it makes a warmth seep deep into his heart, and his hands tingle slightly as he practically eats up your flirtations

He wants nothing more than to kiss you in these moments, but Zhongli is going to bide his time and wait. Like stone, he knows his feelings are not subject to change for a long, long time, but mortals can be fickle with their affections. He wants to wait and see how serious you are about him before trying to take things to the next step

Scaramouche:

Chant “tsundere” in the mirror three times and Scaramouche will appear

When he starts developing a crush, he’s going to deny it to himself for a while. What use is a crush to him?

As the feelings only continue to grow as he’s around you, he has two options; avoid you, or bully you (these are clearly the only two rational options for when you have a crush on someone)

Scaramouche will attempt to avoid you first, going weeks meticulously avoiding you before he finally just gives up. It’s clearly not working for him, if anything, it’s making his thoughts of you worse

So, dropping back into your life like he never left in the first place, he starts bullying you

He never gets physical and doesn’t say absolutely horrendous things, but he will frequently imply that he thinks you’re an idiot or a weakling

You might genuinely think he just hates you, and rightfully so. Yet if you ever actually get genuinely upset with him, especially to the point of storming off or giving him the silent treatment, Scaramouche will internally panic

He won’t apologize, at least not outright, but it is very easy to see the shift in his demeanor. He makes sure that you’re in earshot to hear him say nice things about you to others, or he just sort of hangs around you as though he’s silently begging you to forgive him

When you do finally start talking to him again, he can’t help but feel a little giddy even though it makes him feel weak and pathetic

From there, his flirting actually begins, but he’s certainly no charmer. Scaramouche is still as abrasive and hard to get along with as ever, but he does random acts of kindness for you now. He’ll call you an idiot, but give you bundles of your favorite snack. He’ll scoff at you cooing over a cute cat, but will sneak a cat plush he made himself that looks just like the kitten you were cooing over the other day into your belongings

If you decide to flirt back, he’ll laugh and ask if you’re serious. When you confirm that you are in fact serious with your words, a blush will develop on his cheeks, and he will finally be rendered speechless instead of running his smart mouth

Childe:

This man is quite the tease, and it’s hard to tell when he’s just looking to get a reaction out of you or when he’s being genuine in his flirtations

He’s touchy to a fault. He sees no problem with hoisting you up randomly over his shoulder and carrying you off somewhere. The way you fluster and struggle against his hold his just so cute to him, you can’t expect him to behave when you give him such nice reactions

If you gave indication that you would genuinely start hating him for being so handsy, Childe would reign it in. As much fun as it is to push your buttons, he doesn’t want you to hate him

His touchiness doesn’t completely die, but it’s a lot more gentle and sweet, more like proper flirtation rather than borderline manhandling you

With his connections to Northland Bank, he likes to spoil you just a little bit with gifts. Nothing extravagant since you’re not dating yet, but just nice little sentimental things to show that he’s thinking of you even when he can’t pry himself away from his work

Childe also flirts by showing off, especially when it comes to fighting. He makes sure that the fight is never too dangerous or scary, but he wants you to see him absolutely decimate his enemies

It’s like he’s showing you how strong he is, that you can rely on him if you wanted to

That being said, he definitely gets a little cocky and gets himself hurt a time or two, but that just gives him an excuse to play up the injury a little so he can get you to tend to him

He will totally give you flirtatious winks and teasing remarks as you help him apply bandages to his bare torso, saying that surely you must have been dreaming of the day he got hurt so you could do this

This would be your chance to turn the tables on him and get him flustered. Shoot him a teasing remark back or let your hand ghost over the curves of his muscles and the man will turn as red as his hair

Childe loves a competition though, and will ramp up the flirty comments and gestures until you give up and walk out a blushing mess or you give in and finally kiss his stupid lips already

He knows that no matter which way things will turn out, it’ll be all the more thrilling for him

The Harbinger totally doesn’t mind staying in the flirting stage for a while; he almost likes the chase more than the reward. Almost.

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sanguinedipity · 5 months

Text

Off The Hook.

mike x vandal reader

smut (16+ only)

wc: 2.3k

mike catches you in the act and you have to spend the night with him in the security office while he tries to contact vanessa

tw: age gap, smut, language, dub-con, blowjobs, cock worship

“Hey!”

Mike shouts down the hallway, torch light bouncing off the linoleum tiles. You freeze and your spray paint can hits the floor with a guilty thud. Instinctively, your hands shoot into the air in defence one shielding your eyes from the blinding flashlight. He lowers it with a sigh, when the owner had mentioned break-ins he’d imagined someone a little bigger and meaner than the cowering girl in front of him.

“Come on man, what do you think you’re doing?” he calls out to you, trying to sound intimidating but failing to hide the lack of concern in his voice. Taking a few steps towards you with his torch now pointed towards the floor to prevent any further blinding and one hand on his radio. Without thinking you begin to back up, slowly and delicately like a startled baby deer, until your foot rolls over your deserted paint can sending you hurtling towards the checkerboard tiles. Your skull hits the ground with a sickening crack.

“Oh my god, Vanessa is gonna kill me!” are the words that rouse you from your unconscious, taking a few moments to fully open your eyes and be aware of your surroundings you realise you’re in a rundown office, six monitors stand on the desk in front of you - their light threatening to seal your eyes again for good.

“Please can you turn those things off…" you manage to whimper despite the seismic waves of pain radiating from the crown of your head. A ginormous sigh of relief escapes Mike’s lips as he makes his way to where you’re propped up against the far wall of his office.

He’d panicked when you’d hit the floor earlier and hauled you to his office, drenched in sweat and pulsing with fear he’d ran around the pizzeria in a frenzy searching for anything remotely soft or comforting. Unfortunately Freddie’s was more of rotting carcass of a place than a cosy place you’d want to nap at. Eventually he’d settled on an old burlap sack from the kitchen, rolled up neatly and tucked behind your head and his zip-up hoodie over your bare legs. Desperate to talk to someone with some kind of first aid experience he’d been whisper shouting into his radio for Vanessa’s attention without success for the better part of half an hour.

“Oh, um sorry!” he scrambles over to his desk to shut off the obnoxiously bright monitors, always eager to please. How likely are 2 vandal break-ins in one night anyway?

“Is that better? I’m sorry I don’t have any water for you to drink, I have 1 tylenol in my pocket but it’s been there for a while,” the words shoot out of his mouth before he has the chance to think them over. If he was smart he’d have zip tied you to a pipe and played the mean cop like they do in the movies. No that’s weird. Maybe he should’ve just let you do what you came here to do and leave, then he would’ve had a chance to clean the paint up before it dried, the thought of scraping the dried neon green off the wallpaper made him a little annoyed.

Mike’s now sour attitude made him want to mess with you, just a bit, before he let you go to luckily face no real consequences.

“Don’t think i’ve forgotten about what I caught you doing.” His brows furrow with pretend irritation which causes your eyes to widen like a deer in headlights. Long eyelashes batting against your flushed cheeks make him reconsider what he was doing for a second before going right back to glaring holes through your flesh.

“I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t know anybody was in here I swear!” You squeak out your defence. Sir? Something stirred in Mike’s pants that he tried his best to ignore. God why did you have to be the worst criminal ever. Your tiny skirt and your doe eyes and stupidly soft skin. Nothing in Mike’s life is fair.

“Please don’t call the cops- I’ll do anything, please-“

“Why shouldn’t I? You not only trespassed but vandalised the property that I’m supposed to protect from delinquents like you.” He decided not to reveal that not even his personal law enforcement connection could be bothered to drive up here and arrest some dumb college student. Not only that but he’d be in deeper trouble than you for sleeping on the job and letting said college student get in.

“I’m not a delinquent! If anything I was doing this place a favour, at least it smells like paint now instead of rot-“

“You’re not helping your case little miss. No one in your position would be that mouthy.” Mike surprises himself with this unexpected bout of confidence and tries not to let it show on his face. Honestly, you could’ve bolted down the hall the minute you woke up and gotten off the hook so why were you still looking up at him from the floor?

“Like I said, I’d do anything to get out of this position.” Your words hang in the air like cigarette smoke, swirling around his head and intoxicating him more with each breath. Your eyes are crawling down his body now, taking in every inch of him from his perfectly messy hair and charming face to his spread legs which gives you an idea. Without a word you’re stalking towards him on all fours, stopping just in front of him to sit on your knees and stare up at him again.

It takes a lot of strength for Mike not to let his jaw hit the floor, lips pressed into a tight line seems to keep him from slobbering, never in a million years would he have expected this to happen to him at this job. You must be joking right? Just some silly practical joke, all of your friends are gonna come running in with their cameras out any minute now… right? Or was there really a pretty girl begging at his feet right now? Deciding to trust that you weren’t about to disappear into a cloud of smoke when he touched you, he caresses the side of your face so gently like you’re made of glass. His rough calloused hands hold your cheek while his thumb strokes your cheekbone tenderly.

This completely catches you off guard and you can’t help but just stare at him in a daze until he pulls your head up to lock eyes. His are chocolate brown and covered by a glossy lust-filled haze that makes your heart skip a beat. Without thinking you cover his hand on your face with your own and guide his thumb to your open mouth. Your lips wrap around the digit and your tongue circles it slowly making sure to close your eyes in performative ecstasy before releasing his thumb with a loud pop.

Mike can’t help the groan that rips its way out of his throat. Maybe it was his severe lack of intimate experience but he’d never seen something so pornographic. His dick twitches and aches inside his pants once again and this time he gives in to its demands, unzipping his mid-blue jeans and pulling them down to relieve some pressure.

Your eyes widen watching him remove his jeans, now there’s only one layer of clothing between you and where you so desperately want to taste. His cock strains against the thin grey cotton of his briefs when your palm slides up his thigh, so slow he has to stop himself from whining. Finally, your hand grasps his throbbing cock, palming it lightly to elicit a strained groan from the man standing over you. Mike’s mouth is hanging open in ecstasy while his eyes are screwed shut as if he’s trying desperately not to wake up from a dream. The desperate noises coming from Mike were all the encouragement you needed to continue, so you decided the boxers needed to go. Moving your hands from his hard cock to the waistband of his underwear made him let out a tiny whimper that he hoped you didn’t hear, but as the tight cotton and elastic were pulled down he couldn’t help but sigh with relief when his shaft felt the cool air of the security office. It was incredibly hard, embarrassingly so for the small amount of foreplay that had transpired so far which made his cheeks flush, but even in the low light of his office he could see that he wasn’t the only one.

From where you were sitting, knees tucked neatly beneath you and his cock looming just in front of your face the reality of what you were doing finally set in. Were you really about to get this guy off in a dingy, dimly lit security office inside an abandoned kid’s restaurant? Just to get yourself out of trouble? Okay maybe not just to get yourself out of trouble, you steal a glance at his face again his big brown eyes and embarrassed smile and are reminded of the arousal pooling in your underwear. Rubbing your thighs together you look up into his eyes again through your lashes and take the tip of his thick cock into your mouth. The noises that escape Mike are unintelligible at this point and feeling your soft, plump lips wrapped around him has him seeing stars. He grasps your hair gently to keep steady while you suck him slowly, taking every inch of him deep into your mouth and tracing his veins with your tongue playfully. Hearing the sweet whimpers of the man above you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together for any kind of friction and taking him as deep down your throat as you could.

“ ‘feels so good, please don’t stop.” Mike manages to groan out in between his hushed moans. You let out a moan yourself at the praise lips stretched around the thickness of his cock before taking him deep again, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The pleasure makes him jolt and he can’t help but want to hear more of your beautiful sounds.

“ ‘look so pretty with my cock in your mouth” he says, louder than last time, and grips your hair tighter guiding it up and down his shaft. The sudden change in Mike makes pleasure shoot through your core and your eyes close in bliss as he takes control of your mouth around him. You hollow out your cheeks as he begins to fuck your mouth, his hips thrust wildly and obscenities fall from his lips at the sight of you taking his thick cock so well.

“Fuck," he drawls out, your eyes never leave his as he uses your mouth and he's never felt anything so good before. Tears build in the corners of your eyes but you still bat your eyelashes at him so sweetly making his shaft twitch with arousal, he pulls out of your mouth so quickly, so close to shooting his cum straight down your throat. Before he even gets a chance to ask you where he should cum you take him into your hands once more, pumping it desperately in your first before rubbing the tip of his twitching cock against your swollen lips and your soft, flushed cheeks stained with running mascara. Mike can’t believe what he’s seeing and tries to commit your dazed, cock-drunk face to memory before his orgasm spills all over your face. Thick ropes of cum paint your cheeks and mouth and eyelids until all of the pent up arousal is drained from his cock.

“W-woah,” Mike stutters out bashfully looking over your pretty face covered in his cum, it’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he tries not to imagine his cum covering other parts of you or his cock will be painfully hard again. Your heart races taking him in fully now, his soft brown hair is completely messed up sticking out in every direction, his eyes are blissed out and heavy-lidded and a faint red blush covers his cheekbones and freckled nose and your staring must be noticeable because he stiffens when his eyes meet yours. He’s suddenly hit with a wave of embarrassment as he hurriedly pulls up his pants and helps you to your feet, then tries to find anything to clean your face.

“I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot sometimes I didn’t even ask if that was okay, and now you’re all messy and-“ Mike trails off desperately searching for a rag and avoiding making eye contact with you at all costs.

“I think it was pretty worth it, actually.” You cut him off thoughtfully, watching him run around frantically searching even though you’d already cleaned yourself up with some tissues from his desk. Taking the time to scan over the clutter he kept there you saw a name sticker with ‘Mike’ scrawled clumsily on it, and a calming nature sounds cassette tape inside a worn-looking walkman. A small smile crept onto your face at your discoveries and your eyes fell back onto Mike who was now calmer after seeing you cleaned up.

“So, Mike, am I off the hook?” you ask with a sly smirk. Inching closer to him so you could look up into his big brown eyes again. He tries not to show his surprise at your question and clears his throat to answer.

“Well I think you’ve, er, learned your lesson and received a fair punishment.” he states awkwardly, blood threatening to rush to his face once again because of how much of an idiot he was being.

“Just, uh, try to stay out of trouble.” he finishes looking directly at the floor in shame, any prior confidence completely evaporating and his heart pounding in his ears just as it usually would when speaking to a girl.

“Yes, sir.” She replied with a grin before giving him a quick parting kiss and running down the hallway and out of the fire exit.

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #josh hutchinson smut #mike schmidt x reader smut

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ningningsdream · 1 year

Text

everyone’s but no one’s | n.jm

pairing: fuckboy!jaemin x college student!reader (ft. sungchan)

genre: college!au, roommates-to-lovers!au, fluff, angst

word count: 19.4k

description: in which your roommate is the guy every girl on campus either slept with or want to sleep with and you have had bad experiences with fuckboys before.

warning(s): alcohol, mention of sex, mention of past relationship traumas (cheating, lying)

taglist; @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @sugazwrld (only tagged the people that seemed to be active still, tell me if you want to be removed or added for the next ones)

a/n: this is apart of my new series of roommates-to-lovers with the dreamies, sweet life. i feel like this one is so messy.

main masterlist

suddenly changing university in the middle of your first year was definitely something you didn’t plan but unfortunately the course you chose for your second semester was suddenly moved to their other uni in seoul and apparently they ‘forgot’ to inform the students so a bunch of you had to prepare to move to seoul for the last or change your course. you took some time to decide because you really wanted to stay where you were. the uni was not that far from your house, so you didn’t need to move into a dorm which save you lots of money but on the other hand, you were really excited for that course. so you decided to pack enough clothes for a few days and went to seoul during your summer break, in search of a place to stay.

once you were in seoul, you quickly visited the university you were soon going to attend and asked the secretary if there was any way for you to know if someone on campus needed a roommate. the male assistant directed you towards a board where papers with numbers of students searching for a roommate were scatter. you picked a few tickets with numbers on them along with a picture of their respective flyer.

all you wanted was to find someone nice enough to accept you as a roommate, someone you could maybe be friends with and hang out with. you didn't expect to 'audition' to be one, but at this point, you spent almost your whole summer break looking for a place to stay and you were desperate. you’ve called multiple people, but it seemed like the university didn’t update the board at all because most of the people you ended up calling had either already found someone or moved out of their old place. only one person responded positively to your call but what happened afterwards was pretty unusual. you had to answer multiple questions and pass multiple 'rounds' to finally have someone telling you they'll call you back. you were almost sure you went to the wrong place until one day, when you were watching netflix on the couch of your airbnb, someone called you and told you that you were 'selected' to be the new roommate.

you thought that the process was really weird, i mean who says, 'you've been selected to move in'.

at first, you thought that maybe it was all a scam and that maybe you were going to be kidnap but the guy who asked you all the questions seemed to be around your age and quite nice.

the next day, you took your suitcase, that contained all the things you could bring to seoul, and took a taxi to your new apartment. the building was pretty far from your university, so you had to take the public transportation, but you were okay with it because it was the only place that was available and affordable for your broke ass. it was a pretty simple apartment building with two elevators and a guard. you thanked god for the entrance that was facing an open street rather than an alleyway.

you knocked on the door with one hand while the other one was resting on the mini pepper spray in your pocket just in case. a pretty cute guy opened the door greeting you with a smile, ”oh you must be y/n, right?”, he asked after spotting your suitcase. you nodded and he stepped aside, opening the door wider for you to come in.

“nice to meet you...?”

“jaemin, na jaemin.”, he gave you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“nice to meet you, jaemin. not to be rude but are you living here too? i thought the guy who asked me all the questions the other day was the only one living here.”

“oh, chenle? nah, his apartment is much nicer than this one. i just asked him to take in some candidatures while i was working and from what i've heard he went a little overboard with the interviews...”

you chuckled at his words. 'overboard' was indeed a way to describe chenle's method.

jaemin then showed you your room and you were happy that it already had all the furniture you needed so that you wouldn’t have to waste more time furniture shopping. you told your new roommate that all of your other stuff were arriving tomorrow just so that he wouldn’t be surprised by the temporary mess that will be present in the living room in a few hours.

you woke up to an empty apartment and a note on the kitchen counter.

hey, i went to work and i’ll be back this afternoon. i made breakfast, it’s still on the stove. enjoy~ -your cute roommate ;)

you tasted the food jaemin left for you, and it was surprisingly really good. you didn’t expect him to be that good of a cook.

when you received a call from the driver of the moving truck your parents hired, you immediately made your way down to the front of the building and were welcomed by a nice looking man by the name of taeil, he even helped you carry them in and out of the elevator on your floor. you thanked the man as he left and started to carry your boxes from the hallways into your living room. after some time, you really started to curse yourself for having so many things, your arms started to ache and your back started to hurt a little. you almost had a heart attack every time the elevator opened and one of your neighbors stepped out, giving you a weird look.

“oh my god, you scared me!”, you jumped at the sudden interruption in your silence, almost dropping the box in your hands, “do you want some help?”, he said, holding his arms out so you could give him the box.

“it’s okay, i’m almost done anyway.”, you gave the stranger a smile.

“alright. i’m hyunjin by the way. you’re jaemin’s new roommate, right?”

“yeah, are you going to seoul marketing as well?"

hyunjin nodded, "what are you majoring in?"

"international exchange and you?"

"business administration.", he answered as you arrived in front of your respective door, "well see around and...good luck...with jaemin.", he smirked, knowingly.

you furrowed your eyebrows, understanding that he was implying something but not knowing what it was, "what do you mean?"

"well...you know...", he smiled, eyes expressing something you couldn't decipher. upon seeing the look on your face, his expression changed to one of confusion, "you don't?"

"i just transfer from the gwangju branch so i don't really know anything about what's going on here."

"oooh.", hyunjin nodded as he understood now why you didn't know what everybody knew, "well, jaemin's a pretty notorious fuckboy and you being...", he said, his hand showing you.

" i see. i'll keep that in mind, thanks.", you said before entering your new apartment.

you really couldn't escape them, could you?

"hey, roommie! dinner's ready!", jaemin called you from the kitchen.

you walked into the kitchen confused as you saw jaemin setting two plates down onto the small table for two.

"oh. you didn't have to. i was going to order something.", you said, feeling guilty.

"i'm saving you money. we're student, we're broke."

jaemin wasn't wrong. you didn't often eat out but since you spent your whole day opening boxes and arranging your room, you were too tired to make yourself something to eat, plus, you didn't have time to go grocery shopping.

"you should have called me to help you.", you said.

"it's alright. consider this a welcome diner.", he smiled in a way that made you wonder how that soft face of his could be one of a fuckboy.

you sat opposite him and looked at the pasta dish in front of you.

"i made gochugang pasta."

"gochugang pasta?"

the combo sounded weird to you but gochugang and pasta were good separately so why not together. you picked up the fork by your plate and tasted jaemin's dish. you didn't notice but he patiently waited for your reaction. as soon as the pasta touched your taste buds, your eyes widened in surprise. you chew and nodded at the same time, "woah. that's really good!", you complimented.

jaemin smiled in satisfaction, saying, "glad you like it, i got the recipe from a friend."

you continued to eat in silence for a while before jaemin broke it, "what are you majoring in?"

"international exchange, what about you?", you asked.

"retail communication. why did you...transfer here, if you don't mind me asking?", jaemin was quite hesitant to ask since it could be a sensitive topic.

"a course i chose for this semester was moved to seoul so i decided to move with it. it was either that or change it to something boring so..."

"i see. tomorrow's your first day, right? i can give you a ride to campus if you want."

"oh you don't have to-"

"i insist. it'll be dumb to let you use public transports when i can just drive you. it's not like it's somewhere i wasn't going too."

"thanks...again."

what your neighbor told you have been on your mind the moment you closed the door to your apartment after speaking with him. you've frequented a handful of fuckboys in your life so you knew to stay away from them. you didn't know what type of fuckboy jaemin's was yet but you sure were going to be careful and not get involve more than necessary with him.

the next day when you arrived on campus with jaemin by your side, some people stared at the two of you, whispering among themselves, thinking you wouldn't be able to hear.

"who is that?"

"probably his new toy of the moment."

"too bad, i was hoping it'll be my turn."

"just wait a week and he'll be over her."

you rolled your eyes, annoyed by all the stares and whispers. you really hated how people could be so foul behind your back. jaemin noticed and felt guilty since his reputation was impacting you.

"you know the way to your first class, right?", jaemin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. you nodded, taking your schedule out of your tote bag, "okay, see you later, ROOMMATE.", he almost shouted the last word, shutting down all whispers. you smiled at him in gratitude before walking to your first class of the semester.

you took a seat in the middle rows of the auditorium waiting for the class to start.

"hey. is this place available?", someone asked, pointing to the seat next to yours. you nodded and the person smiled at you, sitting down, "i'm ryujin, by the way. everyone seemed to be with their own friends so i hope you don't mind me being next to you."

"not at all. i actually just transferred here so i literally just know my roommate."

"oh really?"

"i'm y/n, by the way."

"who's your roommate? maybe i know them."

"everyone seems to know him...", you said, "na jaemin is my roommate."

"oh.", ryujin's eyes widen as she stayed silent for a second, her lips forming the letter 'o'.

"is he that bad?"

"he is not bad...just very very popular."

"i heard he was a fuckboy but i didn't think it would be that big of a thing. people stared at me when we arrived together this morning, like we were some kind of reality show or something."

"he's not just 'a' fuckboy, he's 'the' fuckboy. he practically put out of business 90% of the fuckboys in this uni."

"what really?", you didn't know if you should be impressed or disgusted.

ryujin nodded at your statement, "everyone knows though that if they get with him, it's not gonna last. of course, some are still delusional and think they can 'change him'."

you nodded, acknowledging her words. you couldn't judge those girls, having been of that same path too many times.

your professor entered the room, silencing every conversation going on. you focused on your class, pushing all thoughts concerning your roommate to the back of your mind.

going grocery shopping after class, want to come?

jaemin texted you during your last class.

sure

you responded. you needed to go grocery shopping anyway since you just moved in and had nothing to feed yourself at the apartment. so you found yourself in the snack aisle with jaemin by your side, helping him debate whether or not he should buy two packets of gummies or only one.

"you know what? take your time. i'll go get some other things.", you said before walking to another aisle.

after five good minutes on debating with himself, jaemin put one gummy packet down and went on his way to find you with the shopping cart. he spotted you in front of a sample stand, jumping up and down, looking at what an ahjumma was making.

"what got you all excited, bunny?", he asked with a grin as he stopped the shopping cart near you.

you didn't notice the nickname he called you, being too focused on the ahjumma, "they have those dumplings here!", you said, excitedly pointing at the food, "i grew up eating those."

the ahjumma smiled at your excitement and so did jaemin. she cut a piece of dumpling in two, stabbing them with two toothpicks.

"here, try it.", you handed one to jaemin as you ate yours, but the boy just ate it from the toothpick you were holding instead of taking it himself, making you feed him, "woah, tastes just like i remember it. do we have some place in the freezer?"

jaemin thought about it for a moment before nodding.

"i'll take two bags of these, please!", you smiled at the ahjumma.

"aigoo~ aren't you two a cute couple? your girlfriend is really cute!", she cooed, giving jaemin the bags of dumplings.

your eyes widened at the remark, ready to politely correct the lady but jaemin beat you to it, "yeah, isn't she?"

that wasn't what you expected him to say. you gave him a look of confusion as he ignored you, smiling at the ahjumma.

"aigoo~ here, take this!", she handed you a coupon for a discount on the dumplings you were going to buy.

"thank you!", you both bowed to the older woman before walking away.

"what was that?", you asked.

"what was what?"

"that whole girlfriend/couple thing?"

"calm down. didn't want to make the ahjumma sad, did you? plus, we got a discount. a friend of mine told me things like that work."

you two got in line to pay your groceries and when jaemin put a separator between his snacks and your groceries, you removed it, saying, "i'll pay for your snacks."

"no, it's fine.", he said, reaching out for the separator you put back but you stopped by grabbing his wrist.

"i'm paying. take it as a thank you for the dinner last night and for driving me to uni today."

"well, you're welcome, and thank you.", jaemin smiled.

you understood why jaemin was so popular. you just had to look at him. his dyed blonde hair always looked perfect, having that messy but sexy style. his personality seemed sweet as well, at least on the outside. if you'd have met him a couple years back, you would have totally fell for him.

"by the way, i usually go grocery shopping on saturdays, every other week. just tell me if you'll want to tag along.", jaemin told you.

"hey, bunny, we're having a movie night wanna join?", jaemin asked you, popping his head in your room through your door.

"who's we? and stop with the nicknames.", you whined, getting up from your bed and opening your door fully before getting out.

"how can i when your reaction's so cute?", jaemin said, making you roll your eyes.

one thing you learned about jaemin from living with him 24/7 was that it was in his second nature to flirt. one of his flirting habits was giving people nicknames. he had called you many since you started living together. from roommie to babe to baby to bunny. bunny was the one he used the most on daily basis. it was weird at first since you thought he was hitting on you or something but you learned that it was just something he was used to doing when you heard him call other people nicknames as well. it even made you wonder if he didn't just forget the names.

"does he always have to be like that?", you asked no one in particular as you walked to the living room.

"always and that's not the worse of him.", a third party sitting on your couch said.

"jeno, this is bunny. bunny, this is my friend, jeno."

"i'm y/n.", you quickly corrected, "so what are we watching?"

"the last violet evergarden movie."

"ooh, so we're gonna need tissues.", you walked to the kitchen table and grabbed the box of tissues on it to put it on your coffee table in front of your couch.

you didn't expect the first person to shed tears to be jaemin. he was full on sobbing, monopolizing the box of tissue to himself. jeno and you gave each other a look before looking back at jaemin who was sitting between the two of you.

"aiya, stop sobbing so hard, we can't hear the movie.", you joked, patting his shoulder.

"you can read the subtitles. i'm saaaad!", jaemin whined while dropping side ways, his head landing on your lap as he kicked his feet on jeno's lap. you were surprised by the gesture at first and looked at jeno to see his reaction.

his friend looked like he was used to it and kept watching the movie. feelings eyes on him, he turned to face you and you just looked down at jaemin and back at jeno with a questioning look.

'you'll get used to it.', jeno mouthed to you before returning his attention to the tv.

you sighed, looking down at the boy on your lap, "get snot on my pajamas and i'll make you cry harder than this movie.", you warned, even thought your whispers were soft, your threat was very real.

you put your hands on top of his head, having no where else to put them since jaemin literally took all the space that was available. your focus was back on the movie completely forgetting jaemin's head until you realized one of your hands was stroking his hair softly. you immediately stopped the habit you picked up through your years of dating and crossed your arms over your chest to stop yourself from doing it again. you thought you heard a whine before jaemin raised one of his arms and waved it around in your direction. you frowned, grabbing it to stop him from hitting you right in the face by inadvertence. jaemin's other hand grabbed your hand holding his arm and put it back in his hair. you didn't move at first, not really sure of what he wanted. jaemin started moving his head around and you finally understood, he just wanted you to play with his hair again. it's been a while since you've been this domestic and to be honest you kind of missed it.

no.

stop thinking about that.

when the credits started rolling, jaemin sat right up, declaring, "i need to drink and talk about my feelings.", he was being dramatic about the feelings part and just wanted to chitchat.

"i don't drink but i'm down for the talk.", you shrugged.

"sorry, gotta go. roommate emergency.", jeno said, raising his phone.

jeno bid his goodbyes and left your roommate and you alone, "still down for drinks and gossip?", jaemin asked you.

"sure.", you said from the couch, stretching your legs on it.

"what do you want to drink?", jaemin asked from the kitchen as he stood in front of the open fridge.

"i bought a bottle of peach juice. it's coral."

"got it!", you heard him open your cupboards in search for glasses, "do you want a glass, a cup or...?"

"just give me a soju glass as well.", your turned to look at jaemin to see him already looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, "what? it's so you wouldn't feel alone."

"gee, thanks.", jaemin said, sarcastically, as he made his way back to the living room.

"thank you.", you said, as jaemin put everything down onto the table.

"you don't drink at all?"

"i do drink sometimes. i cut back on the alcohol because i used to drink my brains out and forget everything that happened after my fifth drink.", you sat up, reaching for the bottle of peach juice.

"understandable. what kind of drunk are you?", jaemin asked, sitting on the couch.

"from what i heard, i'm quite the hoe but again i was always horny so that may have contributed. i haven't been drunk in a while, you? what kind of drunk is the infamous fuckboy na jaemin?"

jaemin rolled his eyes at the title, "you can say i'm quite the hoe as well."

"shocker.", you said, sarcastically.

jaemin rolled his eyes again, "not nice, bunny. i just get clingy. don't mind me if i start hugging you, you can just push me away."

"i'm fine with that as long as you don't try to get in my pants."

"me? i'm not like that, bunny.", he said jokingly making you two laugh, "more seriously, when i'm drunk drunk, i'm never horny, that's why i don't drink a lot at parties.", he winked at the end which made you make an exaggerated gagging expression.

"anyway, how have you been acclimating so far?"

"good. i made some friends, shin ryujin and yoo jimin.", you stopped in your story, as something came to your mind, "did you fuck them?"

"mmmh, haven't fucked them...yet.", he said the last word with a grin after moving his upper body closer to you.

"you're disgusting.", you said, pushing his head back.

"i was jokiiing!", he whined, rubbing his forehead and taking a shot of soju as you rolled your eyes.

"so what's your fuckboy story?", you asked, sipping on your peach juice.

"fuckboy story?", jaemin looked at you with a confused look. you could see he was already a bit tipsy thanks to his rosy cheeks.

"every fuckboy has that one girl that broke them so much that they take their revenge by using the rest of the female population?"

"that's...", jaemin stopped himself, struggling to find a word to describe what he wanted to say, "anyway, i don't have one.", he said, giving up.

"what do you mean you don't have one? you're just being a jerk without any reason?"

"you're hurting my little heart with your harsh words.", jaemin said, placing his hands on the left side of his chest with a pout on his face.

jaemin looked really cute right now. you had to give him credit when it was due.

"do you even have one?", you were only joking when you said this but then jaemin started to bawl his eyes out. you thought he was joking at first, but when the tears didn't stop, you started to wonder if the two bottles of soju he just consumed made him more sensitive, "woah, woah, woah. i was just joking! stop crying, please?", you panicked. you put your glass down and scooted closer to your roommate, "jaemin, stop please.", you shook his shoulders softly to get his attention but he didn't stop, continuing to sob loudly, "pretty, pleeaase?", you decided to stroke his ego and it worked.

the cries suddenly stopped and jaemin looked at you with a big smile, "you called me pretty!"

you looked at him with a deadpanned look on your face, "come on. time to stop drinking. it's getting late and you're obviously drunk.", you grabbed your two empty glasses and bottles of soju along with your peach juice and put them away in the kitchen, quickly washing the glasses.

you expected jaemin to be sleeping in his room after you finished tidying things up but he was still sitting on the couch.

"jaemin...what did i say?", you put your fists on your hips like a mom scolding her child.

"but i don't want to sleep.", jaemin whined.

"we have class tomorrow, you have to sleep."

"bu-"

"no buts. come on.", you grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. thankfully, he didn't resist at all or you'd have struggled a lot more with your non existent strength.

you tucked him in bed and turned around to go back to your room but jaemin stopped you, asking, "where are you going?"

"back to my room? to sleep?"

"why can't you sleep here?", jaemin whined, patting the empty space next to him.

"because we're not that close."

"why can't we be?"

"because.", you saw jaemin pout even more at your answer and sighed. you walked towards him again and patted his head, "goodnight, jaemin. i'm going to choke you if you don't go to sleep."

"i'd like that.", jaemin muttered before closing his eyes and cuddling into his covers.

that night you discovered a new side to your roommate and you much preferred that side to the one he usually showed. and jaemin kept thinking about your question. that one girl he will never forget.

"hey, bunny. i'm going out, don-", jaemin shouted from the living room but got interrupted by you walking into room with a different than usual kind of outfit on.

"oh, you're going out too? is it 127's party?", you asked after looking at his outfit.

"yeah...", he didn't really listen to what you were saying, he just heard your last words and guessed that you were talking about the party. his eyes were too busy, scanning your figure. you were wearing a black bodycon dress with a long mesh top underneath, knee high platforms and your makeup was more suited to a night outing.

you noticed jaemin staring when you continued talking but he didn't seem to respond, and rolled your eyes, "can you turn off your fuckboy mode for one second?"

"i just didn't know you could dress up like that, princess.", the smirk on his face made you roll your eyes one more time, "what were you saying?"

"i'm going to sleep at ryujin and jimin's tonight and are you heading to the party now? to know if you could give me a ride.."

you ended up going with jaemin, texting jimin that she didn't have to pick you up. when you arrived at the party and managed to find your friends, you never saw jaemin again at that party.

since you didn't drink anymore, you were automatically the designated driver. jimin gave you her keys and the three of you had a lot of fun all night.

you met ryujin on your first day on campus and you two got along immediately. she was the one who caught you up on all the dramas going on on campus. that same day, you met jimin, ryujin's friend and roommate, who also became your friend. she was like a mom to you and took great care of ryujin and you, her two insufferable children. the two of them were worried about you living with the uni's ultimate fuckboy at first but you reassured them by telling them that you had no interest in a frugal relationship and their worries decreased as the weeks went by.

jimin was the one from whom you've learned more about jaemin's past. it was during lunch when you witnessed a scene between jaemin and his, then, current hook up. she had slapped him and ran away, hiding her face, probably crying.

"poor girl. another victim on na jaemin's list.", ryujin said, shaking her head before returning to her food.

"it's crazy how things can change.", jimin said, eyes following the girl who ran out of the cafeteria.

"what do you mean?", you asked her.

"i was in high school with jaemin and he wasn't like that back then.", you gave her a look that meant you wanted to know more, "he was quite popular back then as well but he always declined every confession he received, all really politely without sleeping with them first or anything. rumors spread about him dating someone secretly or having a crush on someone."

after hearing that, you found your roommate more mysterious than you thought him to be. at first, he seemed like some random fuckboy but the more you saw of him, the more he intrigued you.

a slap on your shoulder caught your attention.

"i don't feel so good...", ryujin screamed for you and jimin to hear as you three were dancing in the middle of the crowd.

you two stopped and looked at your friend, worried, "told you to not drink that last mix you made.", you said, shaking your head.

"do you want to throw up?", jimin asked.

ryujin shook her head, "no, i think i just need some fresh air."

"you go out front, first. i'll grab some water.", you said to jimin who seemed to still be able to act and think clearly.

luckily, the kitchen's fridge was also filled with some water bottles so you grabbed three and closed the door. turning around, you almost bumped into someone.

"oh!", the other person grabbed your shoulders to stop you from falling backwards, "i was going to ask you if you wanted a drink but i see that you helped yourself already.", the boy in front of you smiled.

you looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if you knew him or not and he seemed to have picked up on it, "i'm sungchan by the way. we're in some classes together."

you nodded with a smile, "i'm y/-"

"y/n, yeah, i know.", he interrupted you, "sorry, i've been meaning to come and talk to you sooner but never seemed to know what to say.", he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. you thought he was cute.

"i'm sorry, i really have to get these to my friends.", you said, really apologetically, "but feel free to come and talk to me and my friends whenever.", you smiled before walking away. you hoped he'll come talk to you in class.

you made your way to the front yard of the frat house where ryujin and jimin were waiting for you. ryujin was lying on the grass with jimin by her side.

"hey, sorry i bumped into someone.", you said, giving them a water bottle each, "how are you feeling?"

"better.", ryujin said after gulping down 1/3 of the bottle.

"i just realized that this is our first party together.", jimin said.

"i must admit, i'm not much of a party girl anymore.", you said.

"oh really?", ryujin asked with wide eyes.

"yeah. i was the worse. i'm a lightweight but i used to drink so much, it was insane. sometimes i wonder how am i even still alive.", you joked.

"woah, i'd never think you'd be that kind of girl if you didn't tell me.", jimin commented.

"yeah, me neither."

"why did you stop?", jimin asked.

"drinking and partying too much led me to make many bad decisions on the moment.", you vaguely answered, not really in the mood to go in detail.

"i also just realized something.", ryujin said as she seemed to have sober up, "you never talk about your past. i mean you just transferred here in the middle of the year. you must miss your parents, your friends,..."

"not really. my life has been quite lonely so far.", you smiled even though it wasn't a cheerful nor happy one, "i'm glad i found you guys though.", ryujin and jimin reached out for your hand and you three stayed in a comfortable silence while holding hands, until you broke it, "do you know a sungchan?"

"who? sungchan?", ryujin tapped the side of her head, trying to remember where she heard that name before, "isn't he in one of our classes or something like that?"

"that's what he said when i bumped into him earlier, along with how he wanted to come talk to me but never could."

jimin and ryujin gave each other a look before turning back to you with a mischievous smile.

"don't start.", you warned.

"you did by asking about him.", jimin teased.

"i just wanted to know if i should be careful around him."

"from what i heard, or rather not heard, he doesn't seem to be the type to break many hearts around campus.", jimin said.

the rest of the night was kind of a blur to your two friends but you did get them home safely, tucking them in bed and leaving a bucket on the side for them to use if they ever need to urgently throw up. you were supposed to stay but you really wanted to lay in your bed and you also didn't want to take care of the vomit if there ever was. you loved these girls but your friendship limit was puke. you left jimin a note, saying that you were going to take her car to drive home and that'll you'd give it back to her the next day.

once you've drove home, parked the car, got into your building and took the elevator, you stood in front of your apartment door, rummaging through your small bag, looking for your keys, "shit."

your apartment building had a really safe security system, where you needed a special badge in order to tap in the code to your home. you facepalmed yourself, remembering the exact events that led you to being left outside your own apartment. you always put your keys on the small table next to the entrance. the moment you were putting everything in your bag was also the moment you noticed jaemin staring at you. with the conversation going on with your roommate, you forgot to take your keys on your way out.

you grabbed your phone and looked for jaemin's contact. you wondered if he was still at the party or fucking someone right now. in case it was the latter, you chose to text him.

hey, i went home but forgot my keys

if you're home, open the door when your done with whoever

if you're not then hurry when you're done?

im sorry, i'll make it up to you if i ruined anything

you waited, waited and waited. your phone was almost out of battery so you decided to not use it, just in case, jaemin called you to tell you he had a magical spare key hidden somewhere. you even contemplated ringing your neighbor's doorbell but you didn't know him and it'd be weird.

your eyes were getting heavier and heavier. you tried not to fall asleep but it was getting harder every minute that passed by. your greatest mistake was allowing your eyes to close, 'resting them for five minutes'.

jaemin was checking his phone on his way out of his last night's hook up's place when his eyes widened as he saw all your messages from the previous night or rather 2am. he rushed to his car and drove back to your shared apartment as fast as he could, almost hitting a grandma on the way. drive carefully everyone.

the elevator seemed to be extremely slow at that particular moment. when it finally arrived at your floor, jaemin rushed out, his eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor, back against your shared apartment door.

"y/n! y/n!", jaemin shook you awake.

you whined, trying to curl up on yourself.

jaemin took his badge out, beeping it on the machine next to your door and taping in the digicode. jaemin moved your back from the door to open it then proceeded to carry you bridal style.

"wooh, why am i flying?!", you panicked, immediately opening your eyes to be met with your roommate's face. you almost jumped out of his arms.

"calm down, bunny. don't hop, you're gonna hurt yourself.", jaemin smiled at you, "your hands are really cold. your whole body is."

you didn't notice your hands on the back of his neck as you instinctively tried to hold onto something, feeling your body levitating.

it's about to get really hot if you don't let me down, you thought.

"put me down, please?", you asked, almost in a whisper. your throat felt really dry, having drank nothing since you left the party.

jaemin let go of you and watched you go pour yourself a glass of water as he closed your apartment door, "i thought you were sleeping at ryujin and jimin's?"

"i was supposed to, but i didn't feel like dealing with them throwing up in the middle of the night so i went home. where were you? i thought you would have taken the chance of having the apartment to yourself to bring someone over.", you said, feeling rehydrated by the water you just drank.

"i never bring people home.", jaemin clarified.

"why?"

"feels too intimate. it's my personal space."

"i see. well, i'm going to take a hot shower and sleep for awhile. if jimin drop by, tell her i parked her car near the waffle place and give her these.", you said, showing him jimin's keys before putting them on the little dinner table.

after that night, you were careful to check if you had your keys on you every time you left the house and jaemin made sure he was home after every party. even if it meant leaving the pretty stranger he just hooked up and cuddled with for some time. he wanted to make sure that whatever happened that night, never happen again. he wanted to make sure his roommate made it home safe every night.

"hey, y/n.", a voice said, as the person sat next to you while you were talking with ryujin.

"oh, hey! sungchan, right?", you greeted. the boy nodded with a little smile, "this is my friend, ryujin."

the two greeted each other with a nod.

"you don't mind me sitting here, right?", sungchan asked, talking about the seat his actually occupying.

"it's fine. it's usually just the two of us.", you replied.

"how come we've never seen you around uni before?", ryujin asked. even though the university was pretty big, someone who looked like sungchan wouldn't go unnoticed and ryujin knew she would've heard about him at least once.

"oh, i just transferred here this semester-"

"oh? you too?", you interrupted him in shock.

"you transferred here too?", sungchan asked you with wide eyes.

you nodded, "i thought i was the only one. everyone kept telling me i was crazy."

"us too! i transferred here with my friend, shotaro."

"oh? you're friend with shotaro?", ryujin suddenly asked. the boy nodded even though he seemed confused, "he's going out with my friend, chaeryeong. even though she says they are just hanging out 'as friend' for now."

"aaaah, chaeryeong! shotaro can't stop talking about her for real, i almost want to choke him every time.", sungchan joked.

"whoa, we're really living in a small world.", you laughed.

you three stopped talking when the professor entered the room, focusing on his class and what he said.

after your class, the three of you walked to the cafeteria for lunch, "want to join us for lunch?", you asked sungchan.

"sure, can shotaro come?"

"why not.", you shrugged.

"oh i'll text chaeryeong and tell her to come as well."

"oh! good idea!", sungchan and ryujin high fived each other and got on their phone to text their respective friend which made you smile.

after getting some food, you joined jimin at your usual table, "jimin-aaaah, i missed you.", ryujin cooed at her friend.

"we saw each other this morning.", jimin replied, making ryujin pout playfully.

they were joined later on by shotaro and chaeryeong who seemed taken aback when they saw each other at first but then casually slipped into a conversation of their own.

"oh my god! you had mr.kim too?!", you said as sungchan and you started talking about your old uni.

"mmh! he was my favorite i think. his way of grading paper was the funniest."

"right?! his comments were always so interesting."

"one time he wrote 'this doesn't make any sense but i see what you mean and that scares me'. i still wonder if it's a good thing or not."

you laughed at his anecdote along with him.

"i think i kept all the papers he graded because it was just too funny to throw away. once he wrote 'i am not convinced' and three lines after that he wrote 'you convinced me'. mr kim was just the best for those kind of things."

you kept talking about uni related stuff as well as the restaurants and shops surrounding the area. you found out that you had quite a lot of things in common and he was quite an easy guy to talk to.

after a long day of what seemed like endless classes and a dinner at ryujin and jimin's place, you finally got to type in the digicode to your home. you lazily hung your coat at the entrance and removed your shoes to slip your slippers on.

you didn't expect to see jaemin drinking alone in the living room.

"hey, you okay?", you asked him as he seemed to be in some kind of trance, not even noticing your arrival.

jaemin quickly snapped out of it, quickly turning his head away from you, hands reaching for his eyes. you were alarmed by his actions and quickly made your way towards the couch. you tried to look at his face but he turned his head back the other way. you sighed and tried to turn him back towards you but he resisted. you ended grabbing his head and turning his face forcefully towards you. you wonder how you didn't snap his neck. you got worried when you saw his bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks, "what happened?", you asked, sitting down next to him.

jaemin didn't answer but his mouth quickly turned into a pout and his eyes filled with tears again. you brought him in your arms and gently patted his head, letting your roommate cry in the crook of your neck.

you two weren't the closest roommates ever but you did consider him your friend. you've been living together for a few months now and had spent quite some time together from grocery shopping to cooking together to having a special night at least once a week or every two weeks to watch bridgerton together. you two grew quite fond of the show and always ended sharing the same plaid and talking about the relationships in the show.

you've never seen him cry for something else than a character death or three seconds of sad background music during an intense moment of your show, so that was new to you.

"is it that hard to believe that i am capable of getting in a relationship?", he said as he let go of you a little so you could see his face and hear him.

"well..."

jaemin sobbed even harder. it wasn't your intention to make him cry or hurt him, you just never thought that dating was something that jaemin considered, with his reputation. you thought he just wanted to live his youth.

"hey, what happened?", you asked softly.

jaemin didn't answer you and just held onto you tighter. you ran your hand through his hair in comfort, not knowing what else to do.

"you can come and talk to me anytime you want you know. i'll listen.", you offered.

you felt jaemin nod but he never told you why he cried that night.

"hurry, bunny or i'm starting without you.", jaemin shouted from the living room as you were in the kitchen. you poured the popcorn into a bowl while reading the text sungchan just sent you. jaemin noticed you smiling while holding the bowl of popcorn in one hand and typing on your phone with your other hand. he got curious when you handed him the bowl and sat next to him, not even giving him a look and still typing away on your phone.

"who are you texting?", jaemin asked in a teasing tone.

"sungchan.", you answered, putting your phone away.

"are you close? you smiled like an idiot while texting him.", he said, poking your cheek and side as he teased you.

"yah! stop!", you tried to stop his poking but failed as he managed to poke you still. after some fighting action, you managed to stop his two hands by grabbing his wrists. you pulled yourself closer to him, leaning on his side before letting go of him to grab the bowl of popcorn, "we're just friends.", you said, referring to sungchan, "he wouldn't want to date me.", you grabbed the remote and pressed play.

"why would you say that? you're a 100% dateable."

"not really.", you muttered under your breath.

it wasn't that you thought you weren't dateable. your view of love was just different from what people your age would consider normal. you've had so many failed and toxic relationship that you were scared that it was the only type of relation you could have. you also wanted something most people were scared of, even though they would never admit it; commitment.

you had gotten to know sungchan these past few weeks and you two had become quite close friends. ryujin and jimin were telling you that sungchan and you would be a really cute couple but you denied every time. not because you weren't attracted to him but as you got to know him, you discovered that he was totally the type of person you would've wanted to be your first boyfriend. he seemed too pure hearted for you to risk breaking his heart.

"you're crushing my shoulder.", jaemin complained next to you.

"could've just push me away.", you dramatically said, flying to the other end of the couch.

"nooo, come back.", he pulled onto your arm to bring you closer to him again but he pulled harder than you expected and you literally flew right onto him. your eyes went wide as you realized the position you two were in. your face was so close to his you could feel his breathing on your lips. you quickly backed away and repositioned yourself as before. jaemin didn't move for a few seconds, trying to comprehend why his heart was beating so fast when you were close to him and why it was still beating that fast when you pulled away.

you ended up, cuddling with jaemin, his arms around you, giving you warmth. from an outsider point of view, people may think that there was something going on between the two of you but it was just how you two came to act with one another. jaemin being the clingy type, you saw him back hugging his friend, jeno, when he came over to cook something or how he always found a way to pinch his younger friend's, jisung, cheeks when he came by. you just accepted his clinginess because there was no way out, you could see it on his friends' face and you also enjoy the skinship. you missed being that close with someone.

being jaemin's roommate meant that you got to witness multiple side of him that he didn't usually show in public or to people other than his close friends. he would sometimes come back home in a grumpy or sad mood and just hug you in silence. you were confused the first time it happened. it was a few days after you had found him drinking alone on your couch. you were used to his flirty side and his clinginess but nothing really prepared you for that side of him that just made you want to wrap him in a blanket and feed him some soup. above being surprised, you were worried. jaemin usually showed his cheerful and happy self so seeing him that silent with a neutral expression, worried you a lot, every time, especially because he wouldn't communicate how he felt.

once in a while, jeno, jaemin's friend who kind of became yours as well, came by to eat dinner with you two but it often ended up with you two making dinner, waiting for jaemin to get home since he recently got a part-time job.

"can you cut the onions? i'll make the rice.", you said, gathering your hair in a ponytail.

jeno nodded, quickly tying his apron and grabbing a cutting board along with a knife, "woah, look at that. we should open a restaurant.", he joked with his usual eye smile.

"just wait five minutes and i'll be throwing boiling jjigae at you while you attack me with gochugaru.", you joked back.

you heard the door open and some rustling in the entrance, "jaemin-ah! you're back?", jeno shouted from the kitchen.

jaemin passed by the living room and the kitchen without really saying anything. he just mumbled something before heading towards his room. jeno and you gave each other a look, knowing all too well this behavior of jaemin. jeno nodded towards you and then the direction in which jaemin went, his eyes saying, 'go see what's wrong.'

you frowned at him, shaking your head before repeating his actions towards him, your eyes arguing with his, 'you, go see what's wrong.'

you didn't have the time to continue arguing that you heard jaemin coming out of his room. you two quickly got back to your occupation, which was cutting vegetables for jeno and boiling water for the daenjang jjigae for you. you two focused on cooking until jaemin came into the kitchen a few minutes later, hair still wet from the shower he just took.

"why didn't you dry your hair? it's late. it's not gonna dry before you go to sleep.", you said, glancing at him as you took the vegetables jeno finished cutting to put them in the stew.

"it's alright.", jaemin said with no tone whatsoever. he wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you stirred the vegetables in the boiling broth. you leaned your head back on him a little as he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

it was moment like that that made jeno felt like the most third wheel of all third wheels, "i knew i should've brought hyuck and the lil chef.", he muttered to himself, concentrating on cutting the meat.

you felt wet droplets of water hitting your skin but figured it was just jaemin's wet hair so you discarded it at first. you were immediately alarmed when you suddenly heard jaemin quietly sniff. you dropped your wooden spatula on the counter and turned towards jaemin. you grabbed his face to examine it and prevent him from hiding his tears from you. your eyes soften at the view of jaemin's tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes. you didn't like seeing him cry.

"yah, can you two, old couple, get back to cooking? i'm hungry!", jeno nagged at the two of you, pointing his knife accusingly.

"who are you calling old couple? i'm not gonna fall for his fuckboy antics."

thankfully, you were the one facing jeno and not jaemin so he couldn't see his crying face.

"we'll be back.", you said, grabbing jaemin's wrist and dragging him away, "please, finish cooking for us.", you stuck your tongue out at jeno to tease him.

"what am i? your private chef?", jeno screamed after the two of you, making you laugh.

you pulled jaemin into the bathroom making him sit on the toilet after closing the lid.

"what's going on?", you asked, as you took a hair dryer out of one of the sink's drawers.

"nothing.", jaemin said, trying hard to control the tone of his voice. you turned to look at him with your hand on your hip like a mom waiting for her child to confess something, "too many things. i just got overwhelmed.", he finally admitted.

your stance softened at his answer and you sighed, "you know, what i said the first time i saw you bawling your eyes out like a baby still stands. you don't have to keep everything inside of you until you eventually explode.", you said, as you plugged the hair dryer in the outlet. you then turned it on and turned towards jaemin to dry his hair. thankfully the cord was long enough.

jaemin put his arms around your waist in a loose hug, relaxing as you ran your hand through his hair, feeling the hot air of the hair dryer blowing on his skin. he thought about what you said and you weren't wrong in any way. jaemin knew he was used to bottling everything up until he could see jeno or renjun to talk it out but since they were all in uni there wasn't much time for them to see one another, even when jeno came over, he had to leave quite early due to his busy schedule and personal matter which was too early for jaemin to open up.

it took you ten minutes to dry your roommate's hair just enough for them to dry completely on their own before he went to bed. jaemin was disappointed when he didn't hear the loud blowing of the hair dryer anymore. he wanted to stay like this just a little more.

"come on or jeno is totally going to leave with the dinner we made.", you said, holding your hand out to jaemin to grab after putting the hair dryer back in its place.

you two came back to the living room where jeno already placed everything on the table, "it has been 55 days since my friends left me alone in their kitchen where i had to fight to finish this meal. ", jeno started talking as if there were people at the table with him as a joke.

you chuckled, "did you go crazy?"

"i might've.", jeno replied, widening his eyes.

"come on, let's eat, i'm starving."

you all started eating together and updating each other on your daily lives, well mainly you and jeno, jaemin didn't really talk much. you were excited about the updates on his roommate and crazy neighbor. it was all the drama you needed. filled with unexpected twists and cliché tropes.

you accompanied jeno to the door when it was time for him to leave while jaemin was doing the dishes, "is jaemin okay?", jeno mouthed to you so your roommate wouldn't hear.

"he's alright, i think."

"call me if you need me."

you nodded as you showed him an okay sign with your hand.

"i will never cook here again.", jeno said as he stepped outside of your apartment.

"see you next time, jeno!", you said, fully knowing that he will be back, in your kitchen with an apron on in no time.

after sending jeno away, you went to take a shower and brush your teeth before laying on your comfy bed, cuddling into your covers. you were scrolling through your instagram feed when there was a knock on your door. you knew that it could only be your roommate, especially at this hour. you hummed in response, signaling to him that he could enter.

"are you sleeping?", jaemin's head popped in your doorway. you thought he looked cute in his pajama set.

"obviously not.", you answered, sitting up and patting the place next to you on your bed. jaemin slowly entered your room fully, closing the door behind him, "what's going on in that head of yours?", you asked, poking his head gently.

jaemin gently grabbed your hand to stop you, bringing it down between the two of you without letting go. sometimes, your roommate did things that made you wonder if his feelings towards you were completely platonic, but every time those thoughts came to your mind, you quickly pushed them away, excusing them as his flirty habits, ignoring the little acceleration your heart experienced.

"am i that unlovable?", jaemin asked even though he whispered it under his breath.

"what?"

"there's this girl. we dated for like two years in high school but she was really jealous. she didn't want us to go public because her parents were pretty strict and didn't want her to date in high school. but the thing was that she was really insecure and would think that i was cheating on her with other girls that confessed their feelings to me. the relationship was so rocky with many ups and downs, mainly downs. she ended up breaking up with me because she couldn't handle the secrecy of our relationship anymore. my first love. amazing, right?", you could hear the sarcasm is his tone, "i thought my first relationship was going to be something special and romantic that'd stay with me forever."

"first times being special is a concept created by society to pressure us into waiting for 'the right one'. thinking that the first time is what will decide what the rest of your life will look like. my whole love life is filled with non special first times. my first kiss? during a spin the bottle. my first time? i was drunk out of my mind and just sleep with some guy at a party. first love? it was all a game for him to begin with. but relationships are overrated anyway. they just lead to heartbreaks."

"how can you say that? love is such a beautiful thing."

"love is a beautiful thing. relationships...", your hands playing with his fingers mindlessly as you found yourself lost in your own world for a moment, "when you find the love you deserve, even if it wasn't the one you were looking for, hold onto it. look for love, not relationships."

"i hope we'll find the love we both want and deserve, bunny.", jaemin said, squeezing your hand as you smiled up at him.

"you think chaeryeong and shotaro will finally get with each other tonight?", ryujin asked jimin and you as you waited for her to finish getting ready to go out.

"they've been going out on so many dates but haven't even held hands yet.", jimin said.

"oh really? it's kinda cute though.", you said.

"you're such a softie, y/n.", ryujin teased.

"how is it going with sungchan?", jimin teased further.

"what do you mean?", you knew exactly what she meant but chose to act oblivious.

"you two would look so good together.", ryujin commented.

"for real, i wanna puke every time i see the two of you giggling with each other.", jimin said.

"i don't think he likes me like that.", you replied, trying to shut down their fantasies.

"what about you?", jimin suddenly asked.

"i...", you hesitated and even though it was for a few seconds your friends jumped on the occasion to tease you again.

"ooooh, you're totally into him!", ryujin almost screamed and your cheeks started to burn.

"she's blushing!", jimin pointed out.

"oh my god! you guys are insufferable.", you whined hiding yourself behind one of ryujin's pillows.

your phone vibrated as it received a message.

i'm here :D

"sungchan's here.", you announced to your two friends.

"of course, he texted you.", jimin teased.

"it's just a text.", you rolled your eyes.

"he could have texted the groupchat.", jimin retorted.

"...shut up.", you said, running out of argument.

the three of you grabbed everything you needed before heading out. you met up with sungchan who was waiting for you in his car in front of the building. his eyes looked up from his phone and he smiled as he saw the three of you walking towards him. he unlocked the doors for you and you got into the passenger seat as ryujin and jimin got in the back.

"hey.", you greeted.

"hey.", he greeted back with a smile, "are you my gps today?"

"i guess.", you chuckled, "i'm bad at giving direction though. i just like sitting in the front."

sungchan chuckled at your answer, "you can't be worse than shotaro, he just gives up half way and starts giving me direction in japanese. i don't speak japanese."

you put your hand in front of your mouth, hiding your laughter. sungchan started driving, following your precise indications. you arrived at the party in no time. sungchan and you high fived each other for your teamwork when you got out of the car, heading towards the frat house.

ryujin and jimin almost ran to the kitchen to get some drinks as sungchan and you followed behind them, only getting yourselves some water or juice because you didn't drink and he was on driving duty.

jaemin really needed something to get himself out of his thoughts. he's had a lot of things going through his head lately and most of those things were you. for the past few months of being your roommate, jaemin's perception of you had changed quite a bit. at first, he thought you were totally his type. if you two weren't roommates, he would've made a move on you the minute he saw you but after some talking with his friends and having renjun reminding him of the fact that he would probably have to find another roommate and chenle reminding him how hard it was, he quickly gave up on the idea. then, he thought that you were cute and that you two could be good roommates, going grocery shopping and cooking together, keeping your relationship pretty simple, but after spending more time with you, talking with you, seeing you interacting with his friends, picked at his interest in you. that interest made you linger in his thought at random moments and made his heart beat faster every time you got near him.

your roommate's eyes landed on you and sungchan when he was looking for his friends. he didn't know you were going to be there and seeing you laughing with another guy and being touchy in a playful way made him feel something he didn't enjoy.

you, on the other hand, didn't notice jaemin staring at the two of you at all. you were concentrating on your conversation with sungchan and didn't really pay attention to your surroundings. you two were talking casually when sungchan suddenly stopped mid sentence as something caught his eyes in the distance and he started hitting your arm in excitement.

"ow, what happened? what did you see?", you asked, turning towards the direction he was looking into.

"shotaro and chaeryeong are so making out near that plant.", sungchan whispered into your ear then nodded towards the place he just mentioned.

you jumped up and down in excitement, hitting his arm like he did yours as you finally saw them, "is that really chaeryeong?"

"of course, who else?", he frowned funnily at you.

"i hope so, or imma beat his ass."

"i'll join in."

"come on. let's find ryujin and jimin to tell them.", you grabbed onto his wrist, dragging him into the search for your two friends. sungchan smoothly slid his hand into yours. it surprised you but you didn't mind it though, it felt nice.

"yah! ryujin-ah! jimin-ah!", you shouted once you spotted them. they were getting refills in the kitchen.

"ooooh y/n! i missed you!", ryujin said, throwing her arms around you in a hug, obviously drunk. you let go of sungchan's hand to hold onto your friend and not fall backwards.

"you're cuter when you're drunk you know that?", you said to her playfully.

"what did you-", jimin started before being interrupted by someone's scream.

"Y/N!!!", a voice you recognized immediately shouted, gaining your attention.

"jeno?", you looked at a highly under the influence jeno, standing in front of you.

"come with me quick.", his tone sounded like he was in a hurry.

"why? what's happening?", you asked, a little worried.

"jaemin's drunk, he needs to go home but i drank too much to drive him and some girls are trying to throw themselves at him."

your eyes were wide in shock. you remembered jaemin telling you about never getting too drunk at parties. you wondered what happened. you turned towards sungchan for a second and said, "tell them the news.", and then waved goodbye to your friends, "i'll see you later."

you followed jeno through the crowd, pushing through people to finally get to your roommate who was sitting on a couch, surrounded by a girl on each side. he had his head down and arms crossed around himself as if he didn't want anyone to touch him.

"get him home safely. you can deal with the girls, right? they kinda scare me.", jeno told you before fleeing the scene.

the girls seemed to notice your presence and turned towards you, glaring at you as if you'd ruined the chance of their life, "who are you?", one of them spat out.

you rolled your eyes and ignored her, "jaemin, let's go.", you said out loud with a gentle tone.

jaemin raised his head immediately when he heard your voice, "y/nnn!", he exclaimed, standing up with his arms open towards you.

you saw him lose balance and hurried to his side, grabbing one of his arms and putting it around you while wrapping your other arm around his waist.

you two got out of the frat house and walked to where jaemin told you he remembered parking his car, "do you have your keys with you?", you asked as you two finally managed to spot his car which was at the opposite of where jaemin told you it was. your roommate clumsily looked in his pocket and struggled to pull out his set of keys.

you helped him into the passenger seat, putting his seat belt on for him.

"you can sleep if you want.", you told jaemin as you started driving away.

the car fell into a comfortable silence as you concentrated on the road ahead of you and jaemin was concentrating on you. he watched your side profile in silence, from your eyes, reflecting the lights of the streets, to your pretty nose that made him want to boop it, to your full cheeks, he had to refrain himself from squishing them, then finally to your lips, he was dying to know how they would feel on his.

"you're staring.", you pointed out, breaking the peaceful silence.

"you're pretty.", jaemin complimented.

you gulped, feeling your hands sweating a little as you tried hard to not look in his direction. you never knew how to react when he complimented you.

jaemin clung onto you from the moment you helped him out of his car to the moment you put him in bed, "can't you stay?", jaemin pouted, batting his eyelashes at you as his arms were still around your neck.

"no, jaemin, you need to sleep.", you said.

jaemin let go of you and pouted even more, "alright. i'm all about consent.", he said, cuddling into his covers.

you smiled at his behavior, "goodnight, jaemin.", you said, before leaving.

the holidays period had arrived and you didn't go home this time, deciding on saving the money you would've used for the trip. instead, for christmas, you met with your friends at ryujin and jimin's place for a secret santa. there was you, ryujin, jimin, chaeryeong, sungchan and shotaro. you got sungchan and chaeryeong got you. chaeryeong gave you a cute bob she customized herself with a design she made that reminded her of you, it was so pretty. you got sungchan a pair of scissors for left handed people as an inside joke you two had and his real present was a limited edition merch of a game he couldn't stop talking about. it was cute when his eyes started sparkling.

after that you stayed a few more days at your friends' apartment, squatting their couch.

"are you doing something for the new year?", was the first thing your roommate told you as you picked up his call.

"nothing really. why?"

"i'm doing something at the apartment with some of the guys. wanna join?"

"yeah why- wait. you're home right now?"

"yeah."

"what? why didn't you text me?"

"because i thought you were with your family?"

"i'm squatting ryujin and jimin's place since like christmas."

after your call with jaemin, you hurriedly packed your stuff that lingered around your friends' apartment and quickly left, shouting them a goodbye and freeing their couch from your presence.

once you got home, you were welcomed by jaemin's smile and outstretched arms. you accepted the hug, welcoming your roommate home, "why weren't you home?"

"one night, i heard something falling in the kitchen and you were already gone for like two days so i got scared and packed my bags as soon as the sun got up."

jaemin chuckled at your story, patting your head in comfort.

"so, who's gonna be there for the new year?", you asked.

"apart from you and me. renjun, jeno, chenle, and jisung. donghyuck have something already. and mark is spending it with his girlfriend. hyuck got sulky when he realized he was one of the only two absent."

"can i invite my friends too?"

"sure, just let me know how many will be there."

you quickly texted your friends' groupchat asking about everyone's plan for the new year. chaeryeong and shotaro were going to be with their respective family but ryujin, jimin and sungchan were in. you told jaemin that three of your friends were coming over and from there you two talked about the preparations. you made a list for the food, a list for the decorations, even a list of what to hide so they wouldn't be broken.

the two of you went shopping together buying all the things you needed for the party while having lots of fun. you kept playing around with things you found funny in different aisle as jaemin watched and laughed as if you were the funniest comedian on earth. he was down bad.

"should we set a dress code for the party or not?", you asked, turning to your roommate in the middle of the confettis section of the store.

"well, if that means i can see you in that black dress again...", he jokingly said in a flirty way as he looked at you in the eyes. jaemin had that intense gaze in his eyes sometimes that made your body shiver.

you rolled your eyes, keeping your composure, "i was thinking about a pajamas competition or something like that."

"you'd look good either way.", jaemin shrugged as he kept pushing the cart nonchalantly. thankfully, he didn't notice your cheeks turning pink.

the hardest part of this new year party was actually setting everything up the day of it. jaemin didn't stop messing with you, from poking your side when your were busy putting decorations up, to back hugging you when you were cutting vegetables and not helping with the cooking at all. the food you prepared was pretty simple, fried chicken, pasta, stir fried noodles with vegetables and meat and fried rice.

"i should've accepted donghyuck's roommate proposition of helping us with cooking.", jaemin said, his chin on your shoulder as he watched you chop vegetables.

"you turned down a chef-in-training's help?", you asked, kind of dumbfounded. you could've ate the best version of every dish you were making.

"i wanted to cook just with you.", jaemin pouted.

"oh, 'cause you are so cooking right now.", you said, looking down at his arms linked around your waist.

"i can help you cut vegetables."

"how ar-", you interrupted yourself when jaemin placed his hands on yours and started moving them as if he was playing with a doll, "well, i'm going to rest then.", you leaned back on your roommate, your head resting on his shoulder. you learned to go along with his flirting, if it was something you couldn't escape than you decided to embrace it. jaemin smirked, feeling your body pressed against his as he glanced as your face.

the doorbell ringing surprised the two of you as it was still pretty early. jaemin went to check who it was while you continued cooking.

"wooah. you decorated the place?", you recognized the voice of your second mom immediately.

"no, it looks like that all year long.", you sarcastically answered.

the guest walked into the living room and saw you cooking in the open kitchen.

"what are you guys doing here so early?", you asked, seeing the three familiar faces of your friends.

"we thought since you invited us, we'd at least help you with something.", jimin said, settling her bag on your couch.

"you came at the right time. we need hands in the kitchen. this guy only took out the ingredients so far.", you pointed your knife accusingly at jaemin.

"let's get this started for real.", sungchan said.

the five of you started cooking together, it was a little hard since the kitchen was small for the number of people in it. ryujin and jimin were on pasta duty, sungchan and you were on stir fried noodles duty and jaemin was on fried rice duty. the first people to finish their dish would prepare the friend chicken. since yours and sungchan's dish was longer to prepare, the other three moved to the living room table for the fried chicken.

seeing you and sungchan cooking together and joking around with each other in the kitchen kind of irritated jaemin, making him make some mistakes with coating the chicken. jimin and ryujin noticed, giving each other a knowing look. as sungchan and you finished stir frying the noodles, putting it in a dish, the doorbell rang. the fried chicken team having finished as well, jaemin went back to the kitchen with the uncooked fried chicken while ryujin cleaned the table and jimin went to open the door to whoever just arrived.

"woah, that was quick.", you said, noticing your roommate. he kind of ignored you, and just put the plate on the counter next to the electric stove before walking back to the living room and retrieved the other dirty plates. you frowned a little at his behavior. he would usually retort something funny or brag about his skills.

"do you think we put enough seasoning?", sungchan's voice brought your attention back to him.

"mmmh, i think it's alright. i'm the best for seasoning things with my gut feeling.", you said, with a thumb up.

"oh really?", he exclaimed in a playful tone, "we'll see then, if it's bad you owe me coffee."

"deal.", you two shook hands to seal the deal, "i'm going to change, my clothes smell like stir fried everything."

you quickly got back to your room to change into your new year look. jaemin and you settled on no dress code because jaemin said, "i'm sure jeno will forget and not dress accordingly, chenle will be over the top and jisung is too broke. renjun is the only that's gonna on theme."

you slipped into that one black dress jaemin couldn't stop mentioning, added more to your normal makeup to make it more festive and applied some perfume. you checked yourself one last time in your mirror before heading back out to the living room.

by the time you finished getting ready, everyone had arrived and were talking around the table. all the dishes were laid out on the table, only the fried chicken was missing. you waved hello at all your guests before heading towards the kitchen.

jaemin was there with an apron on, frying the last pieces of chicken. he sensed your presence as you stood next to him but didn't acknowledge it whatsoever. his expression was more serious than usual, "what's wrong?", you asked, breaking the heavy silence.

"nothing, i'm just concentrating on the food.", jaemin answered.

you knew he didn't tell you everything but you resorted to just resting your chin on his shoulder, not wanting to leave him alone while he cooked for everyone. jaemin didn't show it but his heart was beating like crazy and a smile started re appearing on his face.

"you smell good.", jaemin complimented.

"you smell like fried chicken.", you replied, jokingly.

jaemin gave you a side look before flicking your forehead. you whined, your hand rubbing the place where he flicked you, "you can bring this plate out first, this is almost done."

you obeyed, taking the plate of fried chicken while sticking your tongue out at him like a five year old. you came back to the living room where everyone was playing a game where they had to guess the name they had on their forehead. you put the plate down on the table and sat on the ground next to sungchan, who gave you the pillow he had to put on your lap since you were wearing a dress.

"it's time to eat. come on, last round everyone, first to guess, first to win.", jimin said out lout.

you laughed as each of them failed to guess who was on their paper, even sungchan, "how could you not get the lady on the starbucks cup?", you asked, removing the paper scotched on his forehead for him.

"you mean how could i have guessed that. there's no way anyone would've guessed it.", sungchan replied.

"i would've.", you retorted.

"you wouldn't have."

"totally would."

"you're in denial."

"i-"

your banter was interrupted by jaemin almost throwing the second plate of fried chicken down on the table, "let's eat before it gets cold.", he said, sitting down on the other side on you. you all started enjoying the meal you've prepared with care, you've never had that many variety of dish at the same time before.

"shit, the stir fried noodles are good.", sungchan muttered next to you.

"told you i could measure my spices.", you said, hitting his arm slightly with yours.

"then i will bring you your coffee personally the first day back at uni, spice master.", sungchan jokingly said, bowing a little while swirling his hand.

"i'll look forward to it, dear.", you replied with the same tone, waving your hand as well. jaemin cleared his throat next to you, earning your attention but when you turned towards him he was just enjoying his food normally.

after you all finished eating, the ones who didn't help cooking took care of the dishes while the rest of you enjoyed the drinks jeno and renjun brought. you were playing a game of 'put a finger down if', and the loser would have to one shot a bowl of makgeolli.

"i have slept with more than ten people.", jimin said, obviously having a target in mind.

"that was too unfair.", jaemin said, shaking his head while folding one of his fingers.

you shocked everyone by folding one of yours as well.

"what? y/n?!", ryujin practically screamed in shock.

"yah! you hid that from us?", jimin joined in.

"what? what? what? what is happening?", chenle shouted from behind the kitchen counter.

"y/n is a player!", sungchan answered chenle, making you turn towards him and push him playfully.

"really?!", jeno screamed.

"are you serious?", ryujin asked, her eyes having not return to their normal size yet.

"yah! why do you seem so shocked?!"

"they grow up so fast.", jimin jokingly sniffed and patted her under eyes to get rid of her imaginary tears.

"i didn't know you had game.", sungchan said next to you, making you push him again, harder this time as he fell on his side while laughing.

"you sure have some secrets, bunny.", jaemin whispered to you in the midst of the chaos. you rolled your eyes and pushed him as well.

the game ended with your loss when the others returned from the kitchen.

"want me to get you something else to one shot?", jaemin asked you as they all knew that you didn't really drink alcohol.

"it's alright. it's been a while anyway, i'm gonna be fine.", you replied.

you brought the bowl to your lips and started drinking slowly as your friends cheered for you. with a last gulp, you finished the alcoholic beverage. it had been so long that you had almost forgot how it tasted like.

"sorry guys, unexpected return of roommate. i have to go.", renjun said, as he stood up.

"you can drive?", jeno asked.

"yeah, i haven't started drinking yet.", renjun replied.

"alright, see you then.", you all waved goodbye to renjun as he hurriedly left.

you were a few hours away from the new year and your tiredness started to hit you hard. you were fighting to keep your eyes open and the makgeolli you drank didn't really help. your alcohol tolerance really dropped. you weren't drunk or anything, it was just enough to make you feel how tired you were even more. you were the kind of person to sleep early and wake up early so you were really fighting yourself.

"don't fall asleep, you'll miss the new year.", sungchan nudged you slightly as your head was resting on his shoulder.

"i'll just rest my eyes for a second.", you replied, your voice so small that he almost missed it. sungchan patted your hand in comfort and just ended up leaving it there while he talked with chenle and ryujin.

everyone was engrossed in their own conversation to notice you, except jaemin who seemed to be even more fired up than before.

"if you get any tenser you'll just transform into a rock.", jeno told his friend.

"i'm fine.", jaemin replied a little dismissively.

"dude, you've had heart eyes for her for a while now. you're also her roommate, you see her more and you've been acting like a couple every time i was over, which made me want to hang myself sometimes, not gonna lie so why you backing down now?"

"you're one to talk.", jaemin started, alluding to jeno's personal life, "and i'm not backing down, i just-", he stopped as he glanced at your sleepy figure so close to sungchan. he can't help himself but wonder if the signs he picked up on from you were just in his head.

a loud explosion coming from outside startled you and stopped every on going conversation. you sat straight up and looked outside like everyone.

"oooh, the fireworks are starting.", jimin said.

you all rushed to the windows to observe it most of your friends went to the bigger windows as you opted for the smaller one. you felt the fresh air hitting your face as you opened it.

"it's pretty.", you said, watching the fireworks explode in multiple colors.

"it is.", sungchan replied as his eyes lingered on you for a moment before turning his attention towards the fireworks, "are you feeling better?"

"mmmmh yeah. the fireworks and bright lighting helped.", you joked, making him laugh a little.

there was even more noise when people started screaming and counting.

"5...4...3...2...1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!", lots of people shouted along with you and your friends. people on the streets were celebrating as well as your neighbors and people from other apartment buildings around you and even people driving were honking like crazy.

you turned towards sungchan to see that he was already looking at you, "what?", you asked as he seemed to have something on his mind.

sungchan smiled at you before moving his hand close to your face and pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. his hand didn't move afterwards, his eyes looking for any sign of discomfort on your face. he then brought his face down to yours, still looking at you. you knew what he wanted to do and you didn't back out nor stopped him. you didn't want to. your gaze dropped down to his lips and leaned slightly forwards as if to tell him that it was okay. sungchan closed the gap between the two of you, his lips softly touched yours as he became your first kiss of the year.

no one really noticed the two of you as they were all too busy screaming and celebrating. all, except one person who spilled his drink on himself when he screamed 'happy new year' too excitedly.

jaemin.

thankfully, your first day in uni of the year wasn't right after the new year celebration because you were exhausted from all the cooking, the cleaning and the celebration. your friends all left quite early in the morning, not sleeping at all and deciding to call an uber for safety since they shouldn't drive in their state. you told jimin to give you her car keys, so you could drive her car to uni to avoid her the inconvenience of coming back here.

jaemin and you spent the next day, or rather afternoon, because you two slept until noon, cleaning the apartment. you didn't interact much since you still had the kiss with sungchan on your mind but even with that aside, you felt like jaemin was avoiding you. little did you know, your roommate also had yours and sungchan's kiss on his mind. after seeing the two of you, his mood switched instantly. he didn't know why his little crush on you affected him that much. or is it because it wasn't only a small crush?

you let it slide the first day, blaming it on the exhaustion caused by the new year but when the next days, jaemin was still acting the same, you started to worry. you tried asking him simple things to start at least a small conversation with him but he dodged every question and even straight up ignored you sometimes. the lack of attention from him did feel weird.

"okay, i can't do this anymore. what's wrong with you?", you finally snapped when you two passed each other in the hallway as you were heading back to your room and he was heading to the bathroom.

"what's wrong with ME? what's wrong with YOU?!", jaemin snapped back, turning around to face you.

"me?", you repeated, confused.

"one minute, you're warm, the other one, you're cold. one minute, you treat me like a friend, the other one, you act like i'm the worse fuckboy to ever exist. one minute...we're hugging and being domestic as fuck, and the other...you're...kissing another guy. this is driving me crazy, y/n. you're driving crazy. i don't know if you like me or not, or just what you think of me."

"i-", you were speechless. your mind was blank, still trying to register the informations.

"i'll leave you with your thoughts.", jaemin said, before turning around again, walking into the bathroom.

you were indeed drowning in your thoughts for the rest of the night, having trouble sleeping even. you couldn't wrap your head around what was actually happening. were you really stuck between two completely different guys? even when you managed to finally shut your brain off, your subconscious took over and you dreamed of the both of them.

when you woke up the next morning, you cursed the timing for having to go back to uni right after what happened. jaemin already left which made you kind of relieved, you wouldn't have known how to act around him. you drove jimin's car to uni, giving your friend her keys back at lunch.

you were really out of it the whole day. at first, ryujin thought that it was just because you haven't had any caffeine yet but when sungchan showed up with the cup of coffee he owed you from the bet, you didn't seem to get any better. you were thankful to sungchan who was extra sweet with you, seeing that you weren't feeling well.

"hey, are you free after class this afternoon?", sungchan asked you as you were sitting at lunch with everyone else.

"i'm doing something with the girls later.", you said, quickly followed by, "don't worry, we'll talk another day."

"alright.", sungchan sent you a relaxed smile as he patted your head.

you knew he wanted to talk about the kiss and the status of your relationship now that that happened but you weren't even sure what to tell him if you two talked right now.

you needed an emergency girls' night and it came in a form of snacks packaging all over your friends' living room's floor while ryujin and jimin were listening to you talk.

"he said what because he saw what?", jimin asked after you told them everything from your kiss with sungchan to jaemin snapping at you.

"so i didn't imagined that kiss.", ryujin said, tapping her chin with her index.

"you saw it and you didn't tell me?!", jimin exclaimed, offended.

"i barely saw it and i was drunk! i thought shipping them so hard got to my brain and i was hallucinating.", ryujin retorted, making you laugh.

"tsk.", jimin shook her head at her roommate disapprovingly before turning towards you, "so what happened next?"

"well, nothing. i have to talk to sungchan about the kiss and jaemin...well...i don't know..."

"this is like a drama. who do you like best?", ryujin asked.

"i-i don't know...sungchan?"

"that sounded more like a question than an affirmation.", jimin noted.

you sighed. your thoughts were in shambles, "sungchan is literally perfect. he's a kind, sweet, the sweetest ever, he never get grumpy somehow, and he's the kind of person that brightens your day the moment you see them. he really is the perfect friend. he's considerate, funny, i feel comfortable around him. it should be him, right?"

"what about jaemin?", ryujin asked.

"he's a fuckboy."

"what else?", jimin pushed.

"what do you mean?"

"he's not just a fuckboy and you know that. describe him like you did sungchan.", jimin clarified.

"jaemin is...my roommate. he can be insufferable, calling me bunch of nicknames like bunny and princess, and acting overall like the fuckiest fuckboy. he is extremely clingy and he drinks that awful iced americano with four extra shots of expresso that makes me wonder how he's still alive. but there's also that sweet side to him and little things he does that he thinks others won't notice. like how he can be super caring. did i tell you how when after he found me asleep on our doorstep that morning after a party, he made sure to be home every night just in case it happened again. i had to tell him that i was going to okay and that it won't happen again when he came back home still smelling like after sex sweat, alcohol and sephora. ke kinda grew on me, somehow. he's pretty funny and watching shows with him made me realize that he was kind of a romantic...but i can't get over the fuckboy status. i've been with too many fuckboys to fall for that again."

"you never know. maybe he's different.", jimin said.

"that's what i told myself every time and i'm sick of history repeating itself."

"do you lean towards one in particular?", ryujin asked.

"i know i should choose sungchan. he's good for me. he's like a sunny day after a storm...but jaemin feels like staying home with a blanket around me when it's raining outside."

"how did you feel when sungchan and you kiss?"

"good, i mean he's not a bad kisser. it felt comfortable and nice."

"you know you sound like you've already made a choice, right?", jimin asked you, "you described sungchan as a 'perfect friend' and then proceeded to rant about jaemin with the only thing holding you back, is that he's a fuckboy."

"my sungy/n heart is broken but i have to admit that you don't seem to have that much romantic feelings towards sungchan or at least, you feel more things for jaemin. you realize that you kept using the word 'should' for sungchan, right? it's like your head vs your heart.", ryujin added.

you sighed. from the bottom of your heart, you wished you could tell them they were wrong but you knew, deep down, that you didn't feel anything for sungchan, or like ryujin put it, you felt more for jaemin. everything would have been much easier if you were mentally stable enough to choose someone like sungchan. your situation with jaemin was just too complicated. you always thought that his gestures towards were only platonic and maybe they were at first but it seemed to have took a turn you didn't expect.

you went home pretty late that night, after talking with your friends for hours. you saw the messages jaemin sent you a few hours earlier. you had forgot to tell him that you were going to ryujin and jimin's place since you two were awkward now.

you entered your apartment, removing your shoes and sliding into your home slippers, walking into the living room. you noticed a mass of the couch, approaching it you saw jaemin lying there with his arms crossed and eyes closed.

he was waiting for you.

even though you two were not on speaking term and he seemed fed up the last time you spoke to him, he still waited. he was still worried. and there goes that little knife that dug itself deeper into your heart.

you went to jaemin's room to retrieve his blanket, thinking he must have been freezing waiting for you and falling asleep on the couch without something warm around him. you left him a note on the table next to the couch saying that you were home and that you were okay before going into your room.

the next day, your only class of the afternoon got canceled so sungchan and you decided to grab a coffee at the nearest coffee shop to talk about the two of you.

"so...", you started as the two of you sat down at a table in the cozy coffee shop with your drinks.

"so...", sungchan repeated.

there was a little awkward silence be fore you decided to speak again, "okay so i'm going to go straight to the point. i don't think-"

"-you have romantic feelings for me?", he interrupted with what you were going to say which startled you a little. he didn't seem sad or angry, he was just like his usual self.

"how did you-? did the girls tell you?"

sungchan laughed at your confusion, "no but it was something i kind of expected. i was hesitant at first for the new year's kiss but with a few shots and the loud fireworks, my brain said why not. i don't regret it.", he shrugged.

"i'm sorry.", you apologized.

"there's nothing to apologize for.", he nudged you, "it's not like i was in love with you or anything. it's alright. i like the idea of us maybe dating but i love being friends with you so actually, it's a win-win."

"you really are the best.", you smiled at him.

"then why aren't you dating me?!", he said but you knew that he was fully joking as he started laughing afterwards.

you got home that day, right after grabbing an early dinner with sungchan and the girls after their classes finished. when you entered the living room, jaemin was eating his dinner while watching tv on the couch, his wet hair adorning a jet black color.

he dyed his hair and holy mother of sanity did he look good.

you gulped down your thoughts and headed towards your room. you took a well deserved hot shower to clear your mind.

the following week was so awkward between the two of you. you woke up earlier every morning to leave the apartment before him and when you saw each other at home, you just walked past one another. you had to deal with your thoughts and feelings and jaemin left you the space you needed to do so even though it was killing him to not talk with you. you also felt bad every time you saw him watch a show on the couch alone, all you wanted to do was plop down next to him and enjoy some popcorn while commenting on whatever you were watching.

"jaemin?", you called, walking into the living room and spotting jaemin's now black hair on the couch.

"mmmh?", he hummed, acknowledging your call.

"can we talk?"

"sure.", he paused his show and sat back straight on the couch, moving from the middle to one end of it so you could sit as well.

"okay, so, let me get this out of the way first.", you said, sitting down on the couch and facing jaemin.

"sungchan and i are just friends. we talked about it and decided to remain friends since i didn't have any romantic feelings for him.", you said, slowing your usual speed of speech and being as clear and simple as you could be so your roommate wouldn't misunderstand, "now, what did you mean by telling me what you told me the other day?"

jaemin's eyes had seemed to have gain a few sparkles since you cleared things about sungchan. he remained silent for a moment, his brain fusing to get the adequate words out, "i like you, a lot."

you realized that you didn't plan anything passed this. you didn't know what to say.

"i- give me a second, alright?", you said, turning sideways and inhaling all the air you could before exhaling it all along your all your messy thoughts, wiping your brain clean, "okay, so...i can't say that i feel completely indifferent towards you...but...", jaemin's head perked up at your words, "you're a fuckboy."

"i-"

"-can change? stop? treat me good? i've heard it all. and they never changed.", you saw jaemin opening his mouth again probably to defend himself, but you quickly continued, knowing what he was going to say, "i know it doesn't mean that you won't, so...i was thinking...if you're up for it...to have like a sort of trial?"

"like netflix?"

"kinda? let's not date, or flirt, or fuck anyone for like a month or two and see if we still have feelings and by we, i mean, mainly you.", you threw in a little joke at the end to lighten the mood.

"one month or two, even a whole year if i have to."

"well, we'll see if your feelings make it. i'm quite hard to love."

"i'll give it my best.", he said with a little smile, blinking his doe eyes at you.

"don't over do it.", you smiled before pushing his face backwards.

jaemin put his arms around you and brought you in a much wanted hug. he's been dying to do that since the start of your conversation, "is that okay?"

"i'll tell you if something is not okay.", you said, relaxing in his arms. you missed that feeling.

"can i come in?", jaemin asked after knocking on your door.

"sure.", you shouted while finishing your makeup.

"are you ready to go?", he asked, stepping in. you two were going to a frat party, even though you weren't really in the mood, you still wanted to spend some time with your friends.

"yeah, just let me grab my jacket and...", you turned around to be faced with jaemin's body. you waited for him to move but he didn't, you looked up at him and said, "i thought we were leaving."

"i just want to look at you a little longer.", he said, putting his hands on your side, right on the cutouts of your white dress.

"you can do that at the party.", you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"but i'd rather do it here.", jaemin brought one of his hands up to your face, his index under your chin, lifting it up to face his own.

your eyes were fixated on his lips as you gulped. you pulled yourself out of the thoughts of how they would feel against your own and looked up at his eyes to see him still looking down, "don't ruin my lipstick.", you whispered since you two were pretty close.

"hearing you say it, makes me want to do it even more."

"oh yeah?", you slowly got on your tiptoes, getting your lips even closer to his. if you moved, you would have been able to transfer some of your lipstick on his lips. jaemin's breath got caught in his throat and he didn't dare to move a millimeter. his whole body froze. you smirked at his reaction and stepped back, walking around him to grab the jacket on your chair, "let's go."

jaemin let out a shaky sigh before following after you.

during the party, jaemin and you got separated at some point as he went to find his friends and you yours. since you didn't really felt like partying too much, so you just had some fun with your friends, dancing and laughing.

"how is it going with jaemin?", jimin asked you as you sat on a couch between her and sungchan. there was also ryujin, chaeryeong, and shotaro.

"there's something going on between you and jaemin?", shotaro asked.

"yes and no...i'm waiting to see if he's serious about this or not."

"mmmh so that's why he's been sending me death stares from that corner over there since we sat on this couch.", sungchan said, almost sounding as if he was joking but when you quickly glanced at the corner he mentioned you noticed jaemin staring in your direction among a group of guys who were just discussing with one another which made you start laughing a little.

from jaemin's point of view, you were laughing at something sungchan had said which made him kind of jealous if he was totally honest. he trusted you and knew that if you told him that there was nothing going on between sungchan and you then there was nothing but he couldn't help but feel a little stab in his heart.

after some more talking with your friends, you decided it was time for you to head home. you hugged your friends goodbye before heading outside. you swiped on your phone, ready to order a taxi to go home when someone called you, "y/n! bunny!"

you turned around instantly, recognizing the nickname, "almost didn't know it was you when you called me by my name.", you teased with a smile.

jaemin smiled back at you before asking, "are you leaving right now?"

"yeah, don't worry about me, i'll see you at home.", you said, waving him back inside.

"it's alright, we can go home together."

"i'm alright, jaemin. really."

"but i want to go home with you.", he pouted.

how could you say no to that face.

"did you drink?", you asked him.

"one cup.", he said, holding his index up.

"give me your keys.", you replied, stretching your hand out.

jaemin easily complied, sliding his keys into your hand. your ride home was quite fun, jaemin showed you mark's soundcloud and to be completely honest, his songs were pretty good. jaemin and you bopped your head to mark's voice while laughing at whatever weird moves your roommate was doing.

"first for the bathroom.", you said as soon as you heard jaemin close your apartment door.

"wait.", jaemin grabbed your wrist, spinning around to face him. he was extremely close, "can i ruin your lipstick now?"

you didn't say anything at first, your mind still trying to process his words. your eyes trailed down from his eyes to his lips and gosh did they look inviting. you slowly leaned in and pressed your lips gently on his. that was all jaemin needed to kiss you back. you stood in the middle of your living room, fully making out, your hands were in his hair while he had one one your waist while the other one cupped your cheek. you felt your heart beating so fast that at this point, you thought it was gonna beat out of your chest.

jaemin was the first one to pull away, breathing heavily, "if we keep going, it's gonna be really hard for me to stop myself..."

your brain worked it magic and lots of things went through your mind after he said that and in a short amount of time, making you blush and hide your face in his shirt.

you headed back to your room to take some clothes before going into the bathroom. you looked at yourself in the mirror and your hand instinctively went to your lips, fingers tracing your lower lip as you saw how smudged your lipstick had gotten. the event flashed in your mind and you couldn't help the smile spreading on your face. jaemin was slowly bringing the wall you had built down and even though you were scared to let someone in again, being with jaemin felt great.

that night, jaemin came into your room and asked if you two could cuddle. you sleepily opened your covers for him, sliding to one side of your bed and the both of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

"hey, i actually don't feel like clubbing tonight, you guys go without me.", you said to jimin over the phone.

"alright! we'll send you lots of pictures!"

"alright! have fun!", you both hung up as you returned to your tv show.

that night you had planned to go to that club in itaewon that was famous for doing a monthly event for university student only but you didn't really feel like going out, you lowkey were just waiting for jaemin to get home so you could cuddle together while watching tv.

you heard the doorbell ring and were confused for a second. you got up to check the camera screen next to your door and saw a girl standing there. she seemed to be around your age and was holding something in her hands.

you pushed the mic button to speak to the person outside, "hello, who are you?"

"hello, i'm here to give jaemin his sweater back. he left it with me when we saw each other last week ."

you felt your heart drop in your stomach and a lump form in your throat. when you realized you've been silent for a long time, you managed to pull yourself together and open the door. you greeted the girl with a slight bow as she did the same.

"tell him i'm sorry i didn't gave it to him earlier, i just remembered a few hours ago."

you nodded, your brain had completely shut off.

"i'll...leave then.", she awkwardly said, before walking away.

you closed the door and let out a big sigh. you couldn't believe what just happened. you looked in the bag the girl had handed you and indeed it was one of jaemin's sweater, you had seen him wear it multiple time. you remembered telling him that you were going out tonight with the girls so did he call her over? while you were out? were they hooking up?

you felt like you've been cheated on even though technically you had no right to feel that way. he wasn't your boyfriend. this only meant that he wasn't serious about pursuing you to begin with. even though it was something you expected, it still hurt but right now you weren't really sad, you were more angry, fuming actually.

you dropped the bag in jaemin's room and went to yours, getting ready to forget about your stupid roommate.

"hello, jaemin? this is ryujin. can you come pick y/nup? she's gone completely out of character. she's so drunk, she is actually this close to offering a strip tease to whoever says yes. we're trying to hold her back but i can't stop her. come quick, please, i'll text you the address."

as soon as jaemin heard this, he hurried back out of his apartment. he had just gotten home after his shift when he received ryujin's call and he was very confused because ryujin said that you were drunk. jaemin had never seen you drunk and the only time he saw you drink was at your new year party. he wondered why you suddenly started drinking again, especially when you seemed so done with your younger self every time you spoke about it.

jaemin found you, jimin and ryujin on the street in front of the club. you were leaning on jimin's shoulder as ryujin checked your temperature with her hand on your forehead. jaemin could see the look of relief on their face when they saw him. your roommate gave them a ride home as your two friends were exhausted from running around the club to get you. during the whole car ride, you didn't spoke nor look into jaemin's direction. you just closed your eyes and lean the farthest you could from him. even when jaemin tried to help you out the car, you ignored him and didn't let him touch you. you had regain some clarity thanks to the little drive and could totally walk and stand on your own, even though you could go off path from time to time. jaemin stayed behind you to make sure you didn't fall.

once you've reached your apartment, jaemin asked you, "hey, is everything okay?"

it was a simple question but it somehow angered you in an inimaginable way, "is everything okay? is everything OKAY?!", you scoffed, "no, everything is not okay, no.", you looked at him with spite in your eyes, "your booty call dropped by earlier. she wanted to give you your sweater back. should've told her when you were going to be home."

"what are you talking about?", jaemin asked with furrowed eyebrows.

you didn't even hear the real confusion in his voice, only interpreting his question as a lie, a way to manipulate you, like many had done before.

"you know what i'm talking about. don't play dumb.", being drunk made you a lot harsher and filter free.

"i really don't. i can assure you i have not been hooking up with anyone. how can you think that? you're the only one i've want any contact with. you're the only one i can think about. you're all i think about. how do you want me to prove it to you? do you want me to shout it out loud in the streets or in the hallways of uni? because i would do it in a heartbeat. you're driving me insane but in a good way. in a way, that makes me want more."

"that's not what i want. i don't want you to burn for me. i don't want to be the bane of your existence.", you started, quoting the infamous show you two had been watching, "i don't want passion. i want someone to love me, even when i'm boring, even when i'm mad, even when i'm sad, even when i don't talk and stay in my corner or when i'm loud and talk to everybody at a party, even when i'm old. i'm sick of the honeymoon phase. in french, they call it 'noces de chêne', oak wedding, it represents 80 years of marriage. i want that kind of love. old, long, lasting."

after that long rant, you stumbled to your room and crashed onto your bed, passing out.

the next morning, you woke up with an astronomical headache. you forgot how hangover felt like and you sure didn't miss it. you turned over on your bed and spotted a glass of water and some medication for your headache on your bedside table. you quickly took them with a little groan, due to sitting up too quickly. you remembered the events of the previous night all too well, a little embarrassed by your behavior at the club. you'll text your friends later to apologize. after taking the pills, you got up, grabbed some clothes and took a well needed shower. you've never felt that dirty after waking up. you got back into bed right after making sure you blowdried your hair and tried to get some more sleep.

a few minutes later, someone knocked on your door. you didn't answer, knowing who it was. jaemin waited a little before opening the door to your room and entering, "i made you some hangover soup."

you still didn't answer.

jaemin approached your bed with the little table tray, "i know you're awake. i heard you taking a shower."

you sighed, peeking your head out from under the blanket. you saw jaemin standing next to your bed with the tray in his hands and you knew that he wouldn't leave before you ate that soup so you sat up, allowing him to put the tray table on your bed.

you started eating in silence, still not wanting to speak to him.

"are you still mad?", jaemin asked.

slurp.

"i take that as a yes. can i at least explain myself?"

slurp.

"then i will. please refrain from throwing soup in my face until i finish talking.", you eye sided him before continuing your slurping, "so, i saw the bag in my room. i guess you were talking about that yesterday. i did not sleep with her. she's the girl from high school i talked to you about. she just wanted to clear up some misunderstandings we had. she spilled her coffee on herself by accident and i gave her my sweater to cover it up. she sent me a message yesterday to give it back but also told me that she didn't know when she'll be able to. so i just gave her our address so she could drop it here whenever she could. i told her to leave it in front of the door if no one was home. i did not sleep with anyone since i told you i love you. well, technically, i didn't say it but the meaning was there, well...anyway..."

your eyes perked up at the word 'love', you knew it wasn't as if he told you he was in love with you but still, it was a strong feeling that you didn't know someone could feel towards you.

jaemin, as if he saw the perplexity in your eyes, said, "i love when we go grocery shopping together. i love when we cook together or watch shows together. i love when it's getting late and you knock on my door to make sure i've had dinner. i love how your eyes sparkle and almost turn into crescent moons when you hear or see something funny. i love when you hold my hand even if it's for a split second. and i especially love how i feel around you. i've been falling for you more and more each day and i've learn to love every little thing about you. i don't know who told you you were hard to love, but loving you is the easiest thing i have ever done."

your gaze softened at his speech. you dropped your spoon and grabbed his face, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

you had to admit that you were blinded by your emotions and trauma at first. having lived that same situation many times where your ex boyfriends would cheat on you and then deny it, even though you caught them in the act, on your on bed, like sure bob, that's your cousin and her weird way of greeting you. but you knew that you could trust jaemin, you two were friends before all this and you felt bad for not giving him the benefit of the doubt and snapping at him instead of remaining calm and communicating.

"i'm sorry...for yesterday and for assuming.", you apologized.

"it's alright. you can make it up to me later with lots of kisses and cuddles.", he said, kissing the top of your head, "can i be your boyfriend now?"

you smiled, "sure."

"yayyy, girlfriend!", he exclaimed. he was going to tackle you but remembered the tray and quickly got rid of it.

"eeeh, i wasn't done with that.", you said, hand reaching out for the food but jaemin was too quick.

"there's plenty more. i want to cuddle.", he said, opening his arms and almost jumping on top of you. you snuggled in his arms, breathing in his scent. you felt safe in his arms.

looking back, you definitely involved yourself more than necessary with na jaemin.

but that was probably the best thing you had ever done.

#nct dream #nct #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #na jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin scenarios #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin fluff #na jaemin angst #jaemin angst #sweet life au

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 7 months

Text

Part 9 - left its seeds while I was sleeping

“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.” -The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Masterlist Part 8

It was the lack of air in her lungs that woke Jazz up, gasping for air and fingers desperately trying to find a beating pulse at her neck.

With a sigh of relief, Jazz rested her palm against the beat, counting as it started to settle into a resting pace again.

Another nightmare.

Back in Danny’s memorial Jazz had converted from a maintenance access space, she had slept there one Christmas weekend as she learned her little brother would truly never have a peaceful afterlife. The darkness was an old friend, like a worn blanket from childhood that you would hide under because you believed the monsters wouldn’t get you then- embraced her as she was and sheltered her as she mourned her lost humanity and childhood until there were no more tears to cry.

Nonetheless, it couldn’t shelter her from the dreams of death, the echo of Danny’s death scream ghostly wail ricocheting in her skull like the worst sort of pinball game she could ever have the misfortune of playing.

It was no longer Danny’s death or theirs that haunted her with dogged determination, but Jason’s.

(The same man she found herself missing more with each passing day that she didn’t wake in his arms.)

It was horrifically detailed, the nightmares, because Jazz’s imagination painted with vivid color even in sleep. The details Lady Gotham had shared with her were few and far between, considering she didn’t care for talking about her favorite bird’s murder.

(Beaten, betrayed… waiting for his dad to reach him in time.)

(Only the darkness would ever know how much Jazz cried for a younger Jason, who only wanted his mother’s love, died for it.)

(It spoke to her own childhood, wanting her parents to love her and care for her.)

(What a pair they were.)

Jazz threw off her blankets and got dressed for the day, hair brushed back into a low ponytail and Bracelets hidden under loose sleeves and a glamor. The metal was cool against her warm skin, a comfortable weight on her forearms as she went about her morning in silence, forcing the nightmare back into a box for her never to think about.

Danny emerged only a few minutes after Jazz began making breakfast for them, yawning and raking a scarred hand through his messy hair as he tried to wake up. Her little brother was completely healed from his traumatic experience physically, but she worried about him mentally. Though he was much happier compared to when she first dragged him bleeding and screaming to Gotham, which could also be due to the fact that he has a new Haunt and isn’t vilified by the city as Phantom.

Even if it came at the cost of life, Danny loved being a vigilante.

The signs were there in the little things most of all.

The pride in his voice when he introduced himself as Phantom, delivered puns and witty one-liners with his wicked sense of humor for all to see, thrived in the sense of duty he wrought in Protecting others, even complete strangers. Danny was a hero, but he didn’t need that distinction to want to help, he only wanted to not be hunted for his spooky nature.

Jazz would shoulder that burden for him, take up another mantle if it meant giving Danny a chance to be happy with his existence. Ancients only knew how far she would go for him.

One slash, two, three

Blood is on your hands already.

Fourth, fifth slash

Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash.

So what if Jazz had a bond with the darkness? So what if she woke up with no air in her lungs, searching for a pulse?

There was nothing else for her to fight for, no greater purpose she could find then to be at Danny’s side through the ups and downs. Jazz had already given up so much, both willingly and unknowingly, to take the crown, to be more than a presence on the sidelines- she was more than a Liminal, Jazz was the damn Regent.

(She ignored the grating reminder of the title being temporary.)

It was only until Jazz watched Danny walk through the door of his school, that it dawned on her what she was feeling….

Jazz was becoming depressed.

-——-———–

With the subtlety of Jack Fenton barreling through a wall, Jazz threw herself into work- both Vigilante and Regent- to ignore the realization and subsequent horror that she was falling into a deep depression.

And it was largely because of Danny.

Ancients, Jazz wanted nothing more than to confront these feelings head on, much like she encouraged her little brother too, but she couldn’t even find where to begin.

She supposed she could find someone to talk to about all this, in a professional manner, but her options were limited.

Spectra was the only ghost with counseling experience, but Jazz would only be leaving a conversation with her worse than when she began.

Frostbite would be of little help with something so human, considering he was an ancient ghost Yeti.

Human. That was it.

Jazz hadn’t considered a human psychiatrist, since most of her health needs thus far were physical and treated by the Yeti tribe, thanks to her ecto-contamination and proto-core.

What if she found a human doctor to see? Jazz had no reason to discuss anything�� ecto related, only human adjacent, so she could very well find one that suited her and her needs.

Well, that might be a challenge in Gotham.

The Watchtower was host to nearly every possible hero who were to attend Batman’s urgent briefing, many lingering around and questioning what the Bat could’ve had in store for so many of them to be present.

Robin, Red Hood, and Red Robin were counted among the numbers of those present, though only Red Robin had the fully depth of what they were about to be privy to, having been one of three people to sort through the Ghost Files (as they were dubbed by the Batkids).

Robin had demanded to be included, citing his prior experience with The Regent in Crime Alley as reason enough.

(He would not admit that he had been petrified by the vigilante, the death aura freezing him down to his bones.)

Red Hood was there at the request of his younger brother (Tim), Oracle and Batman, though he had yet to understand why.

“Red Robin, begin the presentation.” Batman ordered gruffly as he entered the large meeting hall, Superman and Wonder Woman at his heels, the other heroes trickling in soon after.

Red Robin nodded, took a deep breath and started the presentation slideshow.

Slide #1: Ghosts, Fenton Family, GIW, Anti-Ecto Acts, The Regent and the Phantom

Despite the absurdity of the first slide, no one felt like laughing. Especially when it is in a meeting with the Batman, the Dark Knight and two (?) of his children. Not to mention the existence of Deadman was well known to the Justice League.

“Bloody Hell, Bats, took you long enough.” Constantine had no qualms about poking the man in question with a metaphorical stick, but he had fully expected this briefing to happen a week ago.

“This briefing will be disclosing information granted to us by one of these Ghosts or Ecto-Entities as they are officially classified by the Ghost Investigation Ward or GIW. A serious breach of the Metahuman protection laws has been created and exploited by this government organization, which is responsible for drawing the Human world into the beginnings of an inter dimensional war with the Infinite Realms.” Batman spoke calmly, even if he was holding onto his demeanor by the skin of his teeth.

(He was livid.)

(A dead child had to beg him not to send him to war.)

(A dead child was a Spirit of Protection.)

As expected, the heroes present were disgusted by the actions of the GIW, the diabolical Anti-Ecto Acts passed during Luther’s term.

The worst reactions came during the Fenton Family portion.

The Ghost Files had included so much info on them, Red Robin had to shorten the list of what he would include in the presentation.

The first picture was of the members themselves, posing in front of a brick building with a neon sign of ‘Fentonworks’ glaring annoyingly from the background, casting an off shade of pale green over the subjects.

“The Fenton Family, manufacturers of the weapons sold to the GIW for the express purpose of hunting and capturing ghosts.” Batman began, “The two adults are Madeline and Jack Fenton, ecto-biologists whose prejudiced views on Ecto-Entites seem to be the founding behind the Acts and the GIW.”

The man in the photo was large, a sturdy frame encased in an orange hazmat suit and bearing a wide grin on his face, with an arm around his wife and children. Madeline Fenton was a slight woman, standing at a possible five foot eight and wearing a hazmat suit like her spouse.

The children were the next to be spoken of, “The boy is Daniel Fenton, the youngest, and according to the information given, he was killed in a lab accident at fourteen years old.”

The gasps of horror intermingled with the muttered curses before the Dark Knight silenced them, “Daniel’s older sister, Jasmine, was the primary caregiver for most of his life and after discovering her parents dissecting the town’s protector, a ghost by the name of Phantom, in the same basement lab Daniel died in, Jasmine allowed the Regent to claim their souls so the violence done to Phantom would be avenged.”

It had been quite the shock for Red Robin and Oracle to read that, both at the evidence of cruelty and inhumane experimentation done to a sentient being (a child who died and protected the town) and the admittance that the Regent killed the humans to avenge Phantom.

It wasn’t until Hood grimly smiled and said, “Good for them.” that something clicked.

Phantom was killed by the Fentons and avenged by the Regent of the Ghost King.

(Jason had never been avenged, not like this dead kid.)

There was one file, a video, that Tim refused to share with anyone.

The death of Daniel Fenton.

…and the rebirth.

Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t an idiot. He was born into a bloodline of brilliance, even if such wasn’t always used for the greater good. He had spent years fixing his parents failed inventions, doing the proper equations to figure out how something could work when in reality it had no business existing.

(Designed to view a world unseen.)

He’d learned how to fly a jet and build one at fifteen out of sheer desperation, defeated the Ghost King in the same year…. And was almost killed fully by his parents.

His vivisection scars had healed fully, his removed ribs having regrown, and he could transform without echoes of agony in his chest.

(They had gotten far too close to his core.)

Point was, Danny knew there was something going on with his sister. She had been less talkative since their escape from Amity, but Jazz had been withdrawn since they took Jason to the Batcave. He had suspected that Jazz missed having someone to care for, considering that was the kind of person she’d been for as long as he could remember, but it didn’t seem quite right. There was something sadder in her eyes.

Danny turned his focus back down to what he was doing, shoving the concern down to deal with later when he sees Jazz. Usually English was one of the classes he could relax in, considering he could now actually read the assigned books without worrying about ghost attacks eating into his sleep, but today Danny couldn’t focus on the teacher or the lesson.

He’d had an idea for the ecto-comms, his own creation made from broken Fenton phones. His notebook, which was a mix of notes and half finished designs, was open to the original design of the comms. Danny had to account for Jazz’s helmet when he designed her set, but it was awkward at best to activate it when she needed to talk to him.

Jazz needed armor to protect her vital organs even if her skin was incredibly durable. He’d seen some idiot unload a clip into Jazz’s back, not a single one had pierced her- that had been when she’d intercepted a smuggling ring from inside and had yet to summon her armor or sword.

(The creepy head turn Jazz did to face the idiot was the stuff horror movies were made from.)

(Danny was oddly proud.)

No, the armor was to protect against ghosts. Ecto-blasts would severely injure Jazz despite her liminalality, unlike Danny who could just go intangible or manipulate the ectoplasm in his body around the blast.

“Did you hear about the Anti-Ecto Acts?” one of his classmates whispered from somewhere behind him, causing Danny to automatic tune his hearing into the conversation.

“Yeah, that stuff is sick. Phantom is a pretty cool dude, even if he’s dead.”

“He’s got puns for days, man.”

“But still, ghosts?”

“We got aliens, dude and you’re drawing the line at ghosts?”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Just read the whole article, man.”

“It’s the daily planet.”

“It’s Clark Kent and Lois Lane, dude, it’s worth the gag factor of metropolis.”

Danny’s pencil snapped in uneven halves in his grip, confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest.

Anger-relief-cautious hope

He’d given the Ghost Files to Batman as his last resort, believing in the hero and for his connection to Lady Gotham to sway him to give it a read through. Jazz had been adamant that if Phantom and the Ghost King was on that list, then she (as the Regent) would be too, though the two of them had argued against labeling Phantom as the Star King for the time being. Danny had grudgingly agreed to keep Phantom labeled as a Spirit of Protection, even if he went behind his sister’s back and gave Batman a list of his powers.

(Danny still had nightmares of Dan.)

(He lost his parents, but he hadn’t lost his family.) (He had to remember that.)

There were few things Jason would consider dear to him.

His books, kept neat and orderly in his apartment. His vigilante alias, taken from his killer to be a force of change. His grave, as a reminder that he came back. He’d been surprised to see Joker removed from the rogue list, hopeful that it meant he was avenged the clown fucker was finally dead and gone. Dick had held him again when he finally broke down and mourned himself, relief in the fact his killer would never hurt another innocent.

Never hurt his family again.

Barbie had framed the autopsy report and given it to her dad, where it proudly rested on his desk as a reminder that the clown was knocked off by a blessed soul and his daughter would never be hurt by him again.

The alley where his head remained mounted was a protected site in Crime Alley, enforced by both Red Hood and it’s people. A trophy for all of them to appreciate, because while they hadn’t been the ones to end him… they had survived to bare witness to the days free of Joker.

Harley Quinn was free, the happiest woman in all of Gotham- no, the world! The demon who’d made her in his image so long ago was gone for good and nothing would bring him back. She was free of her ex, her origin story was finally finished.

Jason counted the fact he was inadvertently avenged as the dearest part of what he was as equal parts man and shambling corpse. He was free of that burden.

And he had the bone-deep instinct that he knew exactly who to show his appreciation to.

Part 10

#dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #regent!jazz #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #Jason is about to enter simp mode for Jazz

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ophelieverse · 2 years

Note

MORE DAD AEMOND FANFIC 🥺🙏🏻 ITS SO CUTE !!! I LOVE HOW DEDICATED HE IS WITH DRAGONS BUT STILL UNDERSTAND WHAT HIS FAMILY NEED BEST ✨🥲

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰The wild princess and the wild dragon.

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader.

Another part of Daddy Aemond for all of my lovelies.Now is Visenya time to shine and to finally have a dragon,just like her father did.

Thank you for reading and let me know what you think💕(sorry for the errors).

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The fire was crackling in the fireplace,the sun was rising above the horizon,every living small creature was now awaking for living another day in the peaceful and sunny Dragon Stone.

Y/n was laying on the bed,the white sheets were messy,half dangling on the floor and half wrapped around her sweaty body.Her hair sprawled on the pillow,back arching and eyes closing in the blissful feeling that was flaming on her skin.

It was the first lights in the morning,when her husband made his way on top of her after admiring her beautiful features.The perfect and immaculate texture of her skin,the sweet little smile on her sleepy face,the way her chest rose up and down in every breath.

Y/n hands wrapped around his neck and went to his hair,beautiful strands of silver moonlight,long enough for her to run her fingers through and to pull at.

Aemond moaned,pulling her closer until his lips claimed hers in a kiss full of desperation and need.He kissed her as if he was a man starved,the only thought of her the most delicious meal,and showing her exactly how much he craved her.

Y/n groaned in his mouth,the euphoric feeling pumping in her veins,wrapping her legs around his waist.He pulled her waist against his hard body,the bulge in his pants rubbing against her pelvic bone as he choked out with a moan:«I want another one.»his voice was low and it made her shiver.

His wife know immediately to what he was referring,to what his heart wished since the moment they got married,having another child.It wasn’t a secret for her,it wasn’t a secret for anyone,to see the way Aemond eye always lingered for too long on his wife belly,how he caressed it and the disappointment on his face to find it empty,imagining the future life that could come out of it.

Aemond had always been a family man,devoted to the woman that he loved and swore his life to,and to the beautiful children they had together.He didn’t had the best experience of family growing up,his parents barely looked in his direction or at each other,leaving him to be raised in empty rooms by even more empty people that gave him only the necessary.He didn’t wanted that for his children,he wanted them to feel safe and loved around him,always ready to find a shelter,a friend,a listener whenever they wished.

But now his children were growing,too fast for his liking.Rhaegal,his first son,his heir,soft and thoughtful like his mother,was now eighteen and ready to be wed to Lord Baratheon youngest daughter,making him spending half of his time in the Stormlands to court her.Aedion,his second son,now thirteen,calculating and mischievous,taking it after his paternal great grandfather,preferred to spend his free time with his cousin and with his dragon flying across Westeros.

Even his youngest daughter,Saera,who was only five,a beautiful princess that looked exactly like him,seemed to grown faster each day.Making him cherish every moment he had with her,from her first word,her first steps,answering to all her curiosities about the world that he’d always protect her from.

Then there’s was Visenya,his first daughter,the one girl he prayed and wished so much for,was now ten years old and a walking earthquake.The young princess was nothing like the Ladies of her age,nothing like her mother was.His daughter was short tempered,quick to anger and slave to acting before thinking.She preferred her hair short,no jewelry or pompous pastel dresses,but leather dark green pants and a sword.Instead of a Septa to take care of her and teaching her the good manners,Criston Cole was sworn to her,to teach her how to duel and how to work with armors on.

Y/n reached down with her hand,rubbing against his prominent bulge«Another girl?»she teased him with a smirk on her face.

Aemond shuddered,a spark running dow his body«I don’t care»he panted in her ear«As long as it’s you who’s giving it to me.»now sucking on the tender skin of her neck.

A loud knock on the door was what made them pull away.Needy lips running after each other,short breaths,and warm skins as they both got up from bed,adjusting themselves.

Criston Cole stood in the doorway,his white cape and shining armor making him look even more dutiful«I’m sorry to interrupt your morning my prince,my princess.»he stated looking at the couple.

«Has something happened?»Y/n was smothering down her nightgown,the one that till a moment before her husband wanted to rip off her.

Aemond was beside her,his hair messy thank to her,eye widened when he saw two of his children making their way into the room.

Aedion had become taller in years,but still he was shorter than his brother and his father were at his age.His white hair were a mess of silver strands,like someone had pulled them roughly,the angular features of his pale face morphed in a annoyed expression.Under his left eye a purple bruise bloomed on his skin with a little cut,sand all over his cheeks.

Visenya stood beside him,soaked from head to toe,was trying her best to not shiver but the sound of her teeth trembling was audible in all the room.Her shoulder length hair were wet,sticking on her neck and cheeks.The dark fabric of her clothes,clinging on her like a second skin while little droplets of water landed on the stone floor.Her hands were on her side,clenched fits,and on her right hand her knuckles were peeled,crusty blood on them.

«I heard the screams and i found them fighting on the beach.»Ser Criston explained.

Y/n looked at her husband,exchanging a knowing look with him«Why when something happens is always the two of you?»she said in a exasperated tone.

«He started it-»Visenya bursted out immediately,adverting on her the gaze of her parents.

«She attacked me!»Aedion defended himself,pointing his accusatory finger on his sister.

«Quiet,both of you!»Aemond yelled,tiredness in his voice.

Then he pulled Visenya in his arms,wrapping a blanket around her shaking figure a guiding her toward the fireplace.The little girl sighed in relief,enjoying the warmth of the flames and her father caressing her back to help her warm up.

Y/n took a deep breath,placing a hand on her son shoulder«Thank you,Ser Criston.We will take care of it.»she thanked him with a genuine smile.

The knight bowed his head and closed the door behind him,leaving the scene.When his mother turned to look at him,her face stoic and a strict gaze on her eyes,Aedion shivered on his feet.

«Care to tell me why you and your sister were fighting like animals,again?»she asked,anger very clear in the sound of her voice.

Y/n took her son face on her hands,examining the bruised skin and cleaning him from the sand.Aedion hissed in pain,closing his eyes and trying to turn away from his mother grasp«She punched me!She is the animal,look at the way she dress!»he cried out.

Visenya head shot up,angry purple eyes setting on her brother«You deserved it!It’s you who gave me a donkey!»she barked back.

«Because you are one!»Aedion told her,his face now free from his mother care but still hiding behind her body.

«Aedion!»Y/n yelled immediately at her son insult.

There was a ruffle sound,the blanket that was covering Visenya cold body was now on the floor,the little girl ready with another punch for her brother face.Fortunately,Aemond was ready to catch her by her waist,holding her up against his chest,before she could flung herself on Aedion scared figure.

«Enough!»Aemond roared,his daughter kicking and squirming in his arms ceased at the authority in his voice«Me and your mother are gonna deal with this separately,since the two of you can’t be civil enough to have a proper conversation.»he stated,breathing deeply through his nose.

Y/n nodded at him,knowing more than well that this was the only solution.Growing up,she had missed the special bond that Aedion and Visenya had.Once they were inseparable,it was impossible to see one without the other,playing together,laughing and caring for each other.

Now it was impossible to see them going along,always picking on one another,the continue teasing and stupids pranks.It was tiring,especially since both Y/n and Aemond wanted nothing more than a lovely family who have each other backs.

When his wife closed the door behind her,taking with her their son,Aemond turned his gaze to his daughter now sitting again on the carpet next to the fire.

Her little figure was curled up against the stone wall,one of her hand towards the flames to gather some warmth.Aemond could her the sound of her sniffing and see her lucid eyes,it broke his heart to see her like that.

«Want to tell about this donkey?»Aemond voice was calm now,softer.

«They both laughed at me,like i’m some sort of jester.»Visenya started,her little face softened,tears to the corner of her eyes.

Aemond chest ached at the sound of her broken and shaky voice«Visenya»he started calling her attention«You need to tell me what happened,otherwise i can’t help you.»he got closer to her,sitting next to her and caressing her cheek to wipe away the tears.

His daughter cleared her throat and nodded«Aedion and Jaehaerys said that here in Dragon Stone lived three wild dragons»she talked lowly«so they took me to get one,so i could be just like the rest of you.But instead they gave me a donkey.»she told him,little sobs leaving her mouth.

Aemond froze on his spot,his mind racing just like his pulse did.Suddenly it all came back to him,it was like living that stupid nightmare again but instead of a donkey his false dragon was a pig.His chest burned with anger,if he closed his eye he swore he could still hear his brother and nephews making fun of him.But what anger him the most was that no matter,no matter the fact that he got he revenge on them by claiming the biggest dragon in Westeros,that didn’t felt like a win now that his daughter had to experience his same pain.

He felt powerless,he had promised Y/n that he would protect his daughter from the moment she was born till his last breath on this earth,but he was unable to shelter her from his own past.

«Then I got angry»Visenya sniffed again«and i punched Aedion in the face.Jaehaerys had to throw me in the sea to stop me.»she explained,looking up to her father with sad eyes.

But it was different this time,his daughter was different,he was different.When it happened to him,his mother did what little she could,promising him that one day he would had a dragon.His father never talked about it,not even a pitiful glance on his way,not a single word of comfort to forget.Even though his mother tried,that weren’t the words that his younger self needed her to say to him,the ones that only him said to himself.

What he needed that day was someone to tell him:«If there is a dragon out there,go and claim it.»just like he did right now.

He couldn’t repair on what his parents did for him,but he could be the best version of himself for his daughter so that she could never experience this kind of pain again.

Visenya eyes widened«Can i?»she asked,like for a permission,her eyes now sparkling.

Aemond smiled at her«It is your birth right,as a Targaryen,to have one.If you are brave and bold enough go and claim one for yourself.»he stated,turning serious.

His daughter shivered,but this time not from the cold but for the examination that she felt running through her veins at her father next words«You are not a donkey,you are a dragon.So be a dragon.»

Y/n was sitting on a chair in her son room,from the other side of the table Aedion was looking down at his hands.The Maester had left just a moment ago,after cleaning a stitching up the little cut that he had under his eye.

The smell of medical alcohol still lingered the room«It was just a harmless joke»Aedion tried to defend himself.

His mother crossed her arms,the disappointment on her face hurted more than the punch he received in the morning«Visenya is your sister and you,better than anyone,should know how much this topic hurts her.»she stated with a stern voice.

Aedion sighed«It’s just»he started«she has to be in everything that i do all the time.»he explained.

«Aedion-»his mother began.

But the young boy interrupted her«It’s the truth!Whenever i’m practicing with the sword she is there.When i want to take a fly with Hyperion she asks me to come and father says i have to take her.This vacation on Dragon Stone was suppose to be my free time with Jaehaerys but she’s been following us since we first landed here!»he sounded tired,ready to cry and combust on himself.

Y/n face softened,a little smile on her face,as she stood up and walked to her son.Turning around the table,she took his face in her hands,carefully caressing his cheek with her thumb«She wants to be involved because she want to be like you.»she said with a tender voice«Ask her who’s her favorite dragon rider is,but don’t tell your father the answer.»she then chuckled making her son do the same.

Aedion looked surprised,a sparkle behind his lavander eyes«Really?Me?»he sounded surprised.

But when his mother nodded his chest warmed and his heart ached«I’m sorry for what i did.»he murmured.

Y/n smiled,she understood him.Being a older brother have its up and its down,and a nagging little sister wasn’t always the best thing to have around.But with the sincerity of his words and the sight of regret in his eyes,she knew everything would be better.

«You have to tell this to your sister.»she said,hugging him closer to her.

Night time came faster than a blink of an eye.The sky was dark and starless,looking empty and intimidating,the cold breeze of the ocean and the impetuous wind hollowed knocking at the winds to come in.The pale moonbeams lulled every living creature to sleep,expect for one.

Visenya lifted the warm covers from her body,jumping out of her bed,dressing quickly with a dark green cloak on her shoulders and a torch in her hands she flew out of the castle and making her way to the hills around it.

She had heard tales from the small folks who lived there,about three wild dragons that roamed the island at night.One who was know to steal the sheep from the shepherds,one shy and silent,barely seen,and another one,the biggest out of them,that eats his own kind.

The young princess shivered,the cold wind hitting her pale face as her legs walked faster in the dark cave.It was pitch black,humid and smelled like something died in there.The little flame of her torch flicked as more deep she got,tracing her hand on the rough stone walls,under he feet she could hear the cracking of something breaking with each step she was taking until the darkness swallowed her up.

In her head the comforting words of her father repeated themselves.She was a dragon,she was brave and she was bold,named after the strongest woman warrior that ever existed in Westeros,it was her birth right to claim that dragon.

But not only a simple dragon,her need to prove herself,to be better,made her want the biggest out of the three dragons:the Cannibal.

Visenya jumped surprised,squeezing her purple eyes and crunching down when she heard a little screeching sound.Pointing her torch to the ground a little smile appeared on her face,a dragon,no bigger than a cat,scales greens as a emerald,was lurking towards her.

She remembered seeing her brothers,the rest of her family raising little dragons and taking care of them since they came out of the shell.How she missed it,now looking at the small creature that she could have had since her birth,the pain of a sensation that she will never be able to feel.

«Nyke’m daor going naejot ōdrikagon ao.»her voice was calm as she spoke slowly,spelling out every word.

Her father had taught her the dragons language,along her brothers,when she was a child,narrating to them all the tales of ancient Valyria at its full glory.

Visenya was calm,even though her heart raced,and politely telling to the small dragon that she wasn’t there to hurt it.The little creature had other plans,seeing a stranger entering the cave,a snarl came out of it opening his wide mouth.

The young princess didn’t had the time to react,to jump back and to retire her hand before it was to late.The green dragon pointy and sharp teeth closed around her left hand,the sound of broken bones and the high pitch screams leaving her mouth echoed on the stone walls.

The pain went directly to her heart,her pulse quicker,hot tears running down her cheeks,as she tried to hit the small dragon with the torch.Before she could even lift her right arm,a loud roar shook the very foundation of Dragon Stone,the sound of heavy steps and animalistic snarls.

The Cannibal emerged from the shadows,black as coal with menacing green eyes,he was the largest and the oldest of the three wild dragons.

Visenya stood still with her knees on the dirty floor,her left hand tucked to her chest trembling.Blood was everywhere,on her white camisole,her pants,her cloak,under her chin and especially on left arm.She couldn’t feel her fingers,nothing aside the sharp pain the was running up her hand and all over her small body.

The wild dragon in front of her opened his mouth and without wasting his time,with just one bite,he ate the smaller green one.The sound of chewing,the smell of blood and death,and the vision didn’t made her flinch.

Instead,hissing in pain,she tore a piece of her green cloak to wrap it on her hand to prevent more bleeding.Then she rose on her feet,not even this would had stopped her to have that dragon.

Visenya walked slowly,the Cannibal eyes were scrutinized her,looking at every move the young princess was making in her way towards him.

Lifting her right hand up,almost near him,Visenya felt a strange pull in her chest,something warm,like a hook in her ribs that was dragging her to the creature.

The dragon opened his mouth,a glowing color sparkled in the back of his throat with a ferocious rumble.

«Dohaeris.»she stated with authority in her voice,every trace of fear leaving her body«Dohaeris,Cannibal.»she repeated.

Listening to her,with a low sound,the creature closed his mouth,obeying her just like Visenya requested.Something,a primal devotion that was in him before his birth,finally awoke.

«Lykiri.»Visenya said again,an invisible string was tying itself up around them,keeping them close to each other,calm like she asked him,when her hand finally touched the warm scales on his head and he let her.

Because now,the Cannibal was not a wild dragon and Visenya wasn’t a donkey.They belonged to each other,a dragon and his rider.

It was the sound of something hard landing and breaking the ground outside their window,a low screeching sound that made the glass tremble,that woke them up.

Aemond and Y/n were sleeping peacefully in each other arms,right under the warm covers when a servant girl came rushing into their chambers stating that something had happened to the princess.

In the grand Hall,Y/n was crunched down,still in her nightgown,tears in the corner of her eyes and a worried expression on her face«She’s gonna be fine,right?»she asked with trembling voice for the tenth time.

The Grand Maester,an old man,was sitting at the table in the center of the room,Viseny was right in front of him.Her left hand was in a horrible state,covered in blood,the flesh torn apart and one of her fingers almost detached.

«Her hand gonna heal,princess.»the Maester reassured her«But i can’t save this one finger.»he said pointing at the ring finger.

Aemond felt his mouth become dry,his pulse was quick in his ear while watching the way his wife cried out at the horrible news holding her daughter desperately.

Again it felt like living again that moment of his childhood,remembering how his mother was crashed for what happened to his eye and now seeing his wife going through the same pain.

Visenya hissed in pain as the Maester was stitching the cuts on her hand,but a little smile was present on her face«Do not worry mother.I may have lost a finger,but i gained a dragon.»she stated proud of herself.

Aemond let out a choked chuckle«A fair exchange.»he whispered to his daughter,caressing her head.

Y/n head shot up to her husband,the anger in her eyes made him shiver«Our daughter could have died!And you say it was a fair exchange ?»she screamed at him.

Aemond breathed through his nose,as a father he almost had a heart attack when he saw his daughter bloody hand.But his younger self was screaming how proud he was of her,seeing coming down the sky with her dragon.

«I’m aware of what could have happened.»he remained her«But it didn’t,that dragon was destined to belong to her.From now on he will protect her.»he said.

Visenya passed her eyes from her father to her mother«I’m fine and i finally have all that i ever wanted.I’m sorry if i made you worry.»she excused herself.

Y/n sighed deeply,knowing that no matter what,her husband and daughter were more similar to each other than anything else.It would been impossible to make them change their mind on this topic.

«But you have to promise me that you will ride that thing only when you will have a saddle and in your father presence,deal?»she said,a small smile that mirrored his daughter one.

«Deal!»Visenya answered enthusiastically.

Aemond smiled,making his way towards his wife a wrapping his arms around her.A quick kiss on her forehead as he realized that even Visenya now had grown,from the little tremendous girl to a soon magnificent dragon rider.And he couldn’t wait to be there for her in every step,helping her and teaching to her like he did with his sons.

«After this,i definitely want another one.»

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