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larapluma · 1 day ago

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Yes the end, because noting bad never happened, they got married and everyone was happy.

I'm actually going to add something because I want too and I have free will :

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper ring / Uh-huh, that's right

Lily Evans, was seventeen years old and she didn’t want to hope anymore. She didn’t want to hope about them finishing their life together. She didn’t want to hope that they loved her too.

But still, Lily Evans hoped ; she hoped for an impossible love… Because the hearts she wanted were already taken, had been taken since they were eleven years old and freshly at Hogwarts.

She knew the way that Peter looked at James every single day since they were eleven years old, she knew the way that James looked at Peter every single day since they were eleven. It was a look of devotion and pure love, it was the kind of way her mother used to look at her father, before the car accident. It was the kind of love that she wanted to have, it was the kind of why that she wanted them to look at her.

She had fallen in love with them very differently, for Peter it had been quiet, playing chess and exchanging gossip around the fire. It had been going steal Mary's cookies, back when they were together. It was comforting him when the thoughts started to eat him alive. (Now, it was James that confronted him and Peter didn't come to her when he needed help.)

For James is had been loud, just like he was. She was thirteen years old and he used to like her. They would walk in school and talk loudly together, taking all the space in the world because with him she had the impression she could do that - she was invincible. It was screaming when Gryffindor won matches, and kissing in common room to put a spectacle to the boys that were calling her a slut. It was jokes and noice.

Peter aloud her to be quiet, to like the quiet, calms moments in the swings talking in the wind. While James aloud her to be as loud that she wanted, very far away of the voice of her sister telling her not embarrass herself in front of those important people. And Lily Evans, she needed them both and she couldn't have neither.

It was their last year of school, their last six months of school and then they would be adults, and they won't be Hogwarts students anymore, and Lily Evans she was freaking out.

She was in her bed, at her side Severus that was annotating his potions books, why he was doing this, she didn't dare to ask in fear that it would lead to a complain about the book, Slughorn or the entirety of the members of education (not that she didn't agree with the last point.)

" Severus... Sev, Severus. SEVERUS, listen to me ! " The boy finally drops his work to look at her, extended in her bed. She had been complaining about the fact that she would end her life alone because James and Peter were dating and she would never fall in love with someone else. Severus had been ignoring her wines for a while : " They are going to marry each other and I'm going to be all alone. "

Severus had signs when she had been talking, and finally says : " Just confess to them, they like you. "

" How do you know ? " She asked.

" Because I'm not stupid. " He answers.

" Comparably to me ? " She sends back.

" Yes. " He simply says before going back to his work.

Lily stays in silence for a long time. Form one part, she was dying to date them (both of them, she didn't want only one of them, she never had wanted only one of them.) From the other well : " Either way, they are happy like this, they are my friends and I don't want to fuck up their relationship because I'm having a little bit of issues, that should be worked one. Also, I don't know how to do that. How to confess to them, something like that."

The polish boy doesn't answers, he was focused into finding a solution for getting the money that he needed to become a potion master. Under his breath, he whispers : " Maybe, I should become a prostitute. I'm hot enough and people don't really care about your money, if you fuck well. " The rest of the evening is spend of Lily trying to convince Sev that being a prostitute is in fact a bad idea.

The next week, she finds a piece of paper sticked in her mirror that said.

HOW TO ASK OUT BOYS THAT ARE DATING EACH OTHER : 1. Talk to his friends for advice. 2. Stop by the library. 3. Go for it.

Lily was actually impressed by the advice. Of course it was written in a super sarcastic way, because well it was from Sev. (Lily actually wasn't sure if he had given someone advice without being a completely asshole about it, ever in his life.) But it was good advice, something Tuney, no Petunia, would have said if she actually still cared about Lily and her life. (If Petunia actually decided not to be so uptight about everything and following the rules of the society so much.)

First Lily decides to go talk to Remus, after all he could have some helpful information about what the hell do. (She wasn't sure if she was going to tell them, no she wasn't going to tell them. It was going to end badly after all and she didn't need in her life right now. But it could help to collect data just for the fun.)

" Hey, Remus." She says while she arrives in the table that the brown haired boy is sited in the library. " What would you do if you were me and you were in love with Peter and James, and you know that they loved each other and they were going to marry each other. But that your best friend told you to do something about it. It being asking them out. How and why would you do it."

" Okay, so first of all this is a lot of information in the same time. One : You are in love with Peter and James (at the same time, not that I'm judging you obviously.)" No, that would be fucking hypocritical of you. She thinks. Remus then says : " So low key, I think you should tell them. Why ? Because they both like you and it would be a waste of time not to do it."

Lily hums, she knew that they didn't like her but it felt nice that other people thought that it wasn't the case. She wished, she could be delusional but she knew that it would hurt her if she did that. She couldn't forget the true, or she would end destroyed. The wolfish boy continue by saying : " Here's what I think you should do. Invite them to an outing, don't say date. Then, the three of you have a great time and then at the end you confess to them."

Lily asks : " Why are you so convinced that they like me too. "

" Love, I have eyes. I am sure that they like you. But in the case they don't, you and Severus can come at we can do a sleep over and eat a lot of ice cream in front of a movie, I promise. " He answers with a sweet smile, at the thought of spending time with Sev.

" You sure you are not using me to hang out with Sevy ? You know that you can just ask him to hang out with you, right. I'm sure that he will say yes. He loves hanging out with you. " He loves you. She thinks, silently laughing at her best friend love problems. He was so fucking obvious.

Remus hums, while blushing a little bit. " I don't want to impose myself. " He says quietly, then he continues by saying. " I'm sure you go this, go win their heart, little redheaded doll. "

Lily stays with the other boy for a little while, before getting up to see the second and last person in her list : Sirius Black. While Remus was Peter's best friend, Sirius was James's. She finds him at the lake, scrutinizing form afar Severus that was talking with Dorcas Meadowes. " Creepy. " She says, while she arrives at his side : " You could just go talk to him, instead of trying to murder Dorcas with your eyes. They are just friends, you know. Either way, Dorcas is a lesbian so I highly doubt that she likes Sev."

" Fuck off Evans. I don't need you judging me, what are you even going to do tell him. He already hates my guts. " Lily looks at him and says : " He doesn't, but I don't really have the time to explain the inter work of Severus Snape, it will take way much time and I don't want to talk about his fucking asshole of a father. Go to your brother, I am sure that he knows way more than me, or maybe to Pandora. I know that you are more unlikely to curse each other before even starting to talk. "

" Why are you like this ? » The boy asks, without looking at her. Still observing where Severus and Dorcas are. They are now playing with stones and trying to do ricochet. " I simply know too much and I like to learn, talking about learning I need your help. I am thinking about confessing to James and Peter that I like them, Severus and Remus kinda forced me. " If she convinced herself, that she didn't have an other choice ; That it was the only think to do, she would have less difficulty to do it. " I need to know your opinion on how should I do it. " She continues.

Sirius answers, unfazed about what she just told him : " They are both fucking romantics, flowers and sweets. Bring them to the place that you like the most. Be clear about the fact that this is a date and not a friendly hang out. Don't let them have the impression that you are third rolling them, but that you want to BE with them. "

" You surprisingly give goods advices… Thanks for the help Sirius. " She says with a smile. Then she takes his hand, and in a moment of surprise she drags him across the lawn to where Dorcas and Severus are. When they arrive, her hand still in his wrist, she says : " Hey Sev. "

" Hey Lily. Hello Sirius. " In the side Dorcas is silently laughing at the boys. Sirius had been in chock for at least a minute, mouth just a little bit open and looking like he wasn't sure what he was suppose to do. Then he had taken the control of himself again, had arrange his hair and was flashing at Severus his I most have you smirk. Severus obviously had noted absolutely anything.

" What are you doing here. " The polish child asks. " I was asking Sirius advice for the thing you told me to do. " Lily answers not wanting for Dorcas to know what she was talking about. " You are going to do it ? " Severus asks incredulous. " Yeah, I mean what I have to lose, that isn't their friendship and my dignity. "

" Pretty sure that you can't call this dignity, it just fear. Are you an Gryffindor or not ? Because if you really are an Gryffindor you would do it, without thinking about the consequences. " Sirius finally enters in the conversation.

Severus retorts : " You know, this is my problem with your house. You always do something without thinking about the consequences and when someone gets hurt or something bad happens, you are surprised. " The arguments fade while she walks in direction of the castle, by her side Dorcas, letting the two boys all alone to argument about house and whatever they wanted to talk about.

She spends the next of the week perfecting her plan, going to the library and harassing Remus, Sirius and the others. She talks to everyone, Marlene and Mary - that is super happy for her, that she finally is ready to make a move after years of winning about it. They had stayed friends after the breakup, because it had been mutual. - Severus and his friends, Regulus, Pandora - that she adore with all her heart, she used to have a mini crush in the girl when she as younger. - Barty and Evan - that had given her some insane ideas, but form how the others had reacted maybe this was just the way they were - and of course Dorcas - that had spend way to much time talking about her girlfriend Marlene. -

After the third day, she had come around at the fact that she was in fact doing this. She was no longer scared of the consequence. In fact, she had channeled her inter Gryffindor and had accept that this was going to happen and that it would go well.

The Friday the 16 of January, Lily Evans sends a letter to Peter Pettigrew and James Potter, that said :

Dear James & Dear Peter. I am writing (because I can panic by paper and nobody will every know) because I needed to ask you something. I would like to invite the both of you on a date, at the forbidden forest this afternoon. Please come back to me. With love, Lily Evans Jones

The letters comes back in the start at the end of their first class with, an simple :

It will be with pleasure. Let's meet at 15 hours in the start of the forest. Love, Peter and James.

The rest the day happens quickly, suddenly it is 3 in the afternoon, and Lily is putting the last touches of her makeup, Mary and Marlene at her side helping her out while Severus was in the ground, a book in an hand and a pen in the other. The two girls send her away while telling her good luck, while Severus accompanies her out of the dorm, having said that he didn't want to spend time with the others girls without Lily.

At the door of the common room, they suddenly meet Remus that has himself a book in his hand. He looks at Severus and quietly says : " Hey Sev. How is it going ? Do you want to hang out, while waiting for the news of the others date. " Severus looks at the other boy and after a fews seconds says : " Yeah, why not. It could be fun. "

Remus says back : " Yeah, it will be fun, because I'm fun. " The polish boy looks at the brunet and with a smile says : " You know that is the same thing that someone saying that you are a nerd and you saying, no, I'm not, right ? "

Severus kisses Lily check and both of them stop talking one second to tell her good luck, before going back to their discussion. She leaves as Remus says : « No, it’s not." The redhead walks all the way to the forest with nerves eating her up and annoying questions popping in her head such as what if they don't show up ?

She arrives, soon after as she was almost going to turn over and there they are. James is playing with something in his hands while Peter is looking at the ground and examining what seems to be a flower. She kinda wants to stay here for the rest of her life, not having to more or to deal with the fact that they both knew that she liked them, that they were going to a date. But then, James sees her and the magic breaks and she starts to walk in their direction.

" Hey. " She whispers as the arrives in front of them, Peter was still kneeled in one knee observing what she could know see was an butterfly in a flower and form some reason, she decides to say : " Already, sweetheart ? Most people wait at least an year before proposing. "

Peter eyes start shining and with a smile he says : " Got it, in one year, I'll ask you to marry me, Miss Evans. " Lily nods with the biggest smile and says : " You better. " James was smiling at both of them with the most amazed smile possible and after a beat says : " Hey Lils. "

" Hey Jam. " She says back, it felt stupid, everything about this day had felt stupid, but still she was happy about it. It felt right, so fucking right.

" So I got flowers and chocolate obviously. " She says with a smile, as she approaches closers to them. She hands at both of them a bouquet of flowers, that included petunias. They had been always been her favourite and still were even after everything. (Still were even if Petunia hated her now. Because maybe, just maybe they could come back to what they used to be.) They both tell her thanks, Peter kissing sweetly her check. She looks at James just to make sure that he wasn't mad that his boyfriend was kissing a girl, even if it was in the check, in front of him. But the other boy was simply beaming at the thought form being here, he didn't even seems unfazed about it.

She says : " Should we go. " James hums and takes the picnic basket that was at his feet and the three enter in the Forbidden Forest. The rest happens very sweetly, times seems to stop...

At some point, Peter makes her a paper ring and tells her that he didn't want to wait an other year to marry her. She laughs and they both decide to marry right now and there. She gets up and Peter takes her hand and drags her at the middle of the clearing. James that had been in his back just looking at them, gets up and says that he would officiate the weeding. He starts to talk :

" Miss Lily Evans Jones will you take Mister Peter Owen Pettigrew as your lawfully weeded husband. "

" Yes. " She says with the most breathtaking smile in the world. A little bit of her wanted to laugh but the bigger part of her new that she couldn't, it would break the magic of the moment.

" Mister Peter Owen Pettigrew will you take Miss Lily Evans Jones as your lawfully weeded wife. "

" Yes. " Answers the other boy, he didn't seem having to think about this, he just had answer. The second that Peter had answers, they had both looked at James - that was still smiling, still having fun even if he had technically married his boyfriend and a girl. Under James watching eyes, Peter and Lily exchange paper rings.

James says : " By the powers that are conferred to me by the ministry of magic, I declare you husband and wife. " He looks at Peter and says : " You may kiss the bride. "

And Peter, because he was Peter, slowly walks in her direction and slowly approaches her, Lily knows that he is going to kiss her, puts her hand in front of his face, to stop him. " Stop. " She says, screams… " You shouldn't do this, your boyfriend is literally in front of you. And, I'm in love with you. Well both of you, and I really had fun with you guys and I want this to be an date... "

She is interrupted by Peter that very calmly tells her : " One, yes I know that you are in love with us. Two, this is a date and generally people kiss in dates. I'm not James, I don't kiss all my friends... I just kiss my boyfriend and my future, I hope, girlfriend. Now, can I kiss you ?" Lily slowly nods and Peter slowly takes her hand away and kiss her.

One year and a half later, Peter will tell their weeding guests how technically Lily and him were already wed and would tell the story about their first date and the weeding that had happened that afternoon, while James smiled at his side and Lily silently laughs embarrassed of her older self comportment and obviousness (how could she not know that those wonderful boys, that were now her husbands, were in love with her.)

While Petunia, the only biological family that she had left, smiled at her sweetly, with Severus at her side, and her baby in her lap. And the rest of her family all around : Sirius and Remus that had gone in a date with Severus a fews weeks after her and James and Peter, and now were all dating. Mary and her boyfriend, a wonderful boy that cared a lot about her. Marlene and Dorcas, that were still as strong that when they were at school. And of course, Pandora and Xeno - that literally matched each other freak. Barty and Evan that were still being a little too bit insane for her, but that she loved dearly. And Regulus and the boy that he was going to marry. Lily Evans Jones was happy at the side of her husbands and her family. They were the only things that she needed.

THE END

I had so much fun writing this :) Anyway, I hope that everyone loved it, I have no idea how the hell I wrote this much, but anyway. The idea for the paper ring music came in the end, so it's not present in all the text but it's present a little bit and I love it. Have a nice day/night and love you all. (Hope the angst wasn't too bad lol. It was not suppose to have to much angst but you know me.)

@werewolfadmirer here ya go! it's currently one in the morning but i wanted to get this done :) (it's probably not great but who cares)

HOW TO KISS EVERYONE IN YOUR FRIEND GROUP AND GET AWAY WITH IT

First year, they didn't care about kissing in the slightest. All James and Sirius wanted was to have fun, all Remus wanted was "some fucking quiet!", and all Peter wanted was for Remus to stop swearing so much.

Sure, Marlene, Lily, and Mary were all right, and Bellatrix threatened to hex Sirius into next week when they passed her in the corridor sometimes, but there was never any talk of snogging. There was no talk of fancying one another, no initials carved into tree trunks inside crude hearts.

Second year, things got a little bit different. They still had each other, and they had sworn that they would always have each other. But other things started happening in second year at Hogwarts. James and Sirius could practically read each other's minds by that point, and Peter had discovered chess.

All of this left Remus feeling sort of outside. He didn't have anyone- or anything, really- to rely on like that, and one night, that all came spilling out.

It was after the first big Quidditch match with Slytherin, because, well, of course it was. Gryffindor had won. Sirius and James spent the evening celebrating, clinging onto each other excitedly, stuffing their faces with sausage roll after sausage roll. And while he wasn't on the team, Peter was glowing with excitement too.

It was past midnight when the four of them finally went to their dorm, three of them buzzing with joy and the fourth a sulky mess.

"Oh, c'mon, what's the matter with you?" Sirius asked cheerily, ruffling Remus's hair.

"Fuck off, Pads," He growled in response. Sirius opened his mouth to snap something back, more than ready to bicker with Remus again, when James stepped in, calmly instructing Sirius to fuck off.

"Lupin? Are you ok?" James asked gently, sitting down next to Remus. In the background, Peter and Sirius were having a pillow fight- the point is, they were distracted.

Remus nodded, staring at James's lips and feeling strangely warm. James noticed.

"Want me to take your mind off things?" He asked, voice low and kind and toffee-flavoured and so very James Potter that Remus couldn't help but nod again.

James leaned in, and Remus awkwardly followed suit, resulting in a brief, warm, kiss, that was nothing if not an excellent first kiss. James had forgotten the next morning. It was just a dumb, sweet way to cheer up his friend, right? Remus, however, spent the next few weeks thinking about every little thing James did before it wore off and he went back to his usual, sarcastic self.

Third year, there wasn't much new on the kissing front. The other boys had begun teasing James about the way he acted around Lily.

"Obsession, that's what it is," Sirius said.

"More like infatuation." Was Remus's reply.

"It's bloody Lilymania," Peter scoffed, earning him a mocking "language!" from his chums.

But it was all good fun. Nothing ever really happened there.

Fourth year was Sirius's turn. It was a birthday party- of course. Loud, colourful, cake and presents and far too much regurgitated alcohol for a 14-year-old's birthday.

It all happened very fast. Just an "oi, James, your glasses are fucking adorable, c'mere!", and then lips colliding with his and the sharp sting of something alcoholic.

James remembers breaking away, smiling, crashing back into Sirius's smug mouth. Sirius remembers waking up the next morning, the headache, the thrill of drunkenly kissing his best friend. They kept up like that for two months before agreeing that they were really just meant to be best friends, however fun the snogging was.

That was the start of something, though. All of a sudden, both of them started turning up all over the castle with various girls in various states of undress. Remus shook his head fondly while Sirius recounted his sexual adventures, and Peter listened entusiastically whenever James introduced the group to his new girlfriend.

Fifth year went by in a similar fashion. Lots of girls, plenty of sneaking about. Detentions for all of them. Remus, who had hit a growth spurt that summer, started getting looks too. Well, more looks than usual. He ignored all of them. Peter trailed after the three of them, pretending to be happy in his singleness.

Peter congratulated the two outgoing boys when they told him how far they had gotten with some girl or other. He listened when Remus told him about how pretty Sirius looked under the moonlight, how we would never dare tell him. His heart ached and he laughed. His heart broke watching the boy he liked fall for a hundred different pretty girls and he greeted every one one of them with a charming gap-toothed smile and a "hello".

Sixth year, Peter couldn't take it any more. A rainy morning on the Quidditch field was when he snapped. He was sitting in the stands, umbrella above his head, watching as James showed off and did laps around the field.

"Bet Juliette likes it when you do that," He muttered.

"What's that, Wormy?" James shouted, flying closer to where Peter was sulking. Peter hesitated for a moment, and he wasn't quite sure why he did it, but he decided to tell James everything.

Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the cold, maybe it was how good James looked in his quidditch robes, but Peter found himself babbling about how he had liked James since forever, and how James was so careless, and how he knew that James had kissed both Remus and Sirius, and how it made him so bloody sad that he'd never be enough-

James cut him off with a kiss.

"Peter, mate-" James said, breaking away and climbing down from his broom. "I don't want you to be sad. I'll break up with Juliette for you if you want."

"Yeah, and then what? Go back to that other skank? I don't care, James, just fuck off, I know we'll only ever be just mates. Sorry."

"We don't have to be just mates, though."

From that day forth, Peter looked at James like the very sun shone from his eyes.

Seventh year, Peter and James were a thing. Seventh year, Remus finally told Sirius how he felt. Seventh year, all James and Sirius wanted was for their respective boyfriends to be happy, all Remus wanted was to see Sirius smile like that, and all Peter wanted was to keep his James safe.

The end??

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mitchell-nihil · 1 year ago

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Cookies are like a safe-haven for gluten free foods, I've never met a cookie that I couldn't make the exact same gluten free

#chocolate chip or sugar cookie or gingerbread or ginger-snaps or pumpkin cookies or coffee cookies or macarons- all of them #the key is to not use “gluten-free ____” recipes #just get 1:1 ratio gluten free flour and use normal recipes and substitute the flour for whatever gluten free flour you have #partially because gluten free flour has gotten better and the older recipes you'll find aren't for the kind of flour we have now #and because they'll tell you to use other dietary supplements for paleo or keto that are unnecessary #its ALSO way harder to find gluten free recipes with a lot of different reviews so you can know for sure the recipe you're using will work #(also also READ THE LABELS ON THE GLUTEN FREE FLOUR!!! some say that the flour won't be good for yeast recipes or other things)

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diracpointless · 4 months ago

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In January I was in Denmark for a few days. I went to the very excellent Arbejdermuseet (Worker's Museum, highly recommend).

Currently, and until August of this year, they have a temporary exhibition on Women's Lives and Work which is very well curated. It's informative, insightful, infuriating and heartbreaking in equal measure. Exactly what an exhibit about something that truly matters should be. One part in particular stuck with me. A series of video testimonials from women about all sorts of things. I was drawn to them, initially, because I could sit down for a moment while watching them (pregnant) but I'm, really glad I gave them my time. One of the videos was an interview with a nurse who had worked in a Covid ward during the pandemic. She and her colleagues had had no prior experience in emergent care wards, but they were drafted in because the hospitals were overwhelmed. She described how they tried to treat the patients even though at the time they had no idea what they could do to help them. She remembered getting death threats from patients families because of the strict no visiting policies that they had to communicate. The nurses and ward staff communicated to management that they needed some sort of extra compensation. This work was not in their job descriptions and they were struggling and burning out. The response was...a heart-shaped cookie. A heart-shaped cookie for months of putting your health and mental well-being at risk. A heart-shaped cookie to fix death threats and nervous breakdowns. Oh, I'm sorry. A heart-shaped cookie AND a thank you message on their computer screens. Her rage was palpable.

And since then I've been thinking about that every few days. When we went into lockdown, I was able to swap my work to fully remote. I was safe and snug at home working for a company that was making a lot of money and not doing anything very important. And yet, when my company noticed that people were not taking their PTO (sure where would you be going?) they immediately reacted. My industry is so sensitive to burn-out that they gave us all, as a company, a full day off per month. Complete shut down, no emails, no work, one day a month. And this was in addition to our PTO, they didn't force us to use that or anything. They also gave everyone, in a global company, 5 days off over US Thanksgiving, even though we don't celebrate, and 3 weeks off over Xmas that they only stopped doing this year. My evil, bloodsucking, corporate overlords gave a bunch of people who move meaningless numbers around spreadsheets all day safe at home 22 extra paid days off to avoid burnout and negative pandemic effects and nurses who were saving actual lives got a cookie and a thank you. Fucking hell.

#and it's the least we all should have gotten #corporations don't care about you #but at least they pay me enough that it's fine #I actually like my job #but still #the nurses got their revenge though #they en masse posted the cookies back to the government #and then went on strike #really hard to find anything about this on english internet #i assume it didn't get reported much outside denmark #and it's not much different to what any nurses in other countries got #banging pots #fuck sake #clowns

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tinysunshine · 5 months ago

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━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: protective daryl, reader is extremely girly and feminine, fingering, very light dom/sub, fucking on a motorcycle, daryl sucks his fingers, pet names, oral sex, cum swallowing, slightly rough sex, some dirty talk, true love

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a former sex worker, trauma bonding, violence, death, slut shaming, bullying

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

you’re known as the princess of your group - soft, feminine, a girly girl who doesn’t want to get her hands dirty. despite the cruel new world you’re living in, you still hold on to whatever remnants of beauty you can find, hoping for a better tomorrow.

daryl is the opposite of everything you stand for. he’s hardened, rugged, ruthless - he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. despite your differences, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways nobody, not even you two, can really understand. you bring softness to his strength, and in daryl you find a friend, a lover, a protector.

he’s everything you find warm and safe in this cold, scary world. you cling to him, and the best part?

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score.

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up.

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got.

Plans and Rick’s hope.

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out.

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad.

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal.

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t.

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit.

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes.

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off.

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are.

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose.

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies.

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up.

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes.

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough.

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold.

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general.

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings.

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing.

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor.

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him.

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail.

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce.

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call.

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times.

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best.

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you.

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love.

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep.

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you.

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too.

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night.

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that.

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more.

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy.

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days.

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him.

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp.

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you.

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except -

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick -

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing.

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure.

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time.

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after.

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you -

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile.

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago.

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something?

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes.

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else.

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him.

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck.

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit.

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code.

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and -

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch.

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times.

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.”

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive.

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap.

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching.

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face.

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he?

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says.

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his.

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag.

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation.

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you.

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off.

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go.

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore.

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want.

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies.

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain.

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying?

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back.

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough -

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you.

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp.

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days.

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good.

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh.

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second.

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand.

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses.

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has.

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise.

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard.

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever.

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before.

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper.

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again.

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl.

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains.

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket.

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck.

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly.

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone?

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder.

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is.

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it.

You nod eagerly.

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off.

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you.

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him.

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around?

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night.

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying.

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well -

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way.

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh.

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone’s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally.

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard.

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that.

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot.

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run.

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face.

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject.

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps.

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center.

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips.

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone.

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer.

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back.

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again.

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike.

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease.

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure.

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave.

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that.

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do.

Except maybe Derek.

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs.

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod.

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself.

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though.

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt.

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.”

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs.

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick.

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back.

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube.

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours.

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you.

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle.

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle.

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea.

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him.

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit.

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet.

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too.

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes.

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little.

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run.

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place.

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses.

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time.

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone.

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do.

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl.

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off.

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do.

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you.

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.”

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name.

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head.

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker.

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight.

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees.

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns.

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do.

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want.

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care.

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought.

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn.

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is.

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive.

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new.

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing.

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset.

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue.

It’s a cookie.

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face.

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes.

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face.

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms.

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking.

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are.

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts.

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours.

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run.

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?”

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means.

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world.

You found each other. You have each other.

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

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rafesangelita · 3 months ago

Note

thinking about dealer! rafe and baker! reader where reader uses his scale to measure the ingredients for cookies

warnings: little bit of fluff, mentions of drugs

rafe could smell the sweet scent of vanilla wafting through the air before he could even open the flimsy door to your camper, the gentle sound of music playing in his ears once he spotted you in the kitchen area. there you were, your hair and your makeup done up all cute with your pink apron accentuating the curves of your hips. “hi, gorgeous.” your cheeks heated despite having been called ‘gorgeous’ by rafe going on a million times now.

he slipped in behind you, wrapping his large arms around your waist before resting his chin in the curve of your neck. “what are you making this time around?” he sighed blissfully through his nose as you reached down for a cookie and handed it to him. “well, it’s really hot out now, so i figured i’d make sugar cookies instead of chocolate chip since they’ll melt and all..” rafe broke the little treat in half, popping one piece in his mouth and feeding you the other.

he groaned, the damned thing basically melting on his tongue. it was warm, not too sweet, and the softness was just how he liked it. “jesus, babe, those are going to sell out for sure. did you do anything different?” you smiled upon hearing his approval, a small hum sounding from your lips as you pointed down to the black scale on the table. “yes, actually, instead of just eyeing how much sugar i put in, i measured it this time.”

it took rafe a second to register that he was staring at his own scale, and not just any scale, but the same scale he used to weigh out grams of both weed and blow. you were peering up at him innocently as he studied you for a moment. “where did you find that scale?” you faltered when rafe blinked away, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he shook his head. taking off his backpack, rafe checked the contents of it just to make sure he didn’t have it.

“the top shelf..” you trailed off, your eyes widening as rafe rummaged through his bag. “the top shelf?” he repeated, “how did you even reach up there—” rafe looked past your feet and answered his own question when he saw your pink foot stool on the floor. “why?!” you slightly panicked, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong. “nothing, it’s just— me and barry use that to weigh our stuff—” you gasped, quickly getting it off the table before rafe could finish his sentence.

rafe watched as you frantically looked over all the cookies you already made, your worst fear coming true when you thought about having to throw everything away. “it’s fine!” rafe reassured you, “did you clean it off before using it?” you nodded, looking up at him unsure. “nothing actually touched the scale, right? you measured everything in a cup or something?” you nodded again, your shoulders falling in relief when rafe waved you off.

“don’t even worry about it, then.” rafe pulled you on top of his lap, wiping off the small bit of flour that got on your nose. “you just gave me an idea though..” he whispered, stroking the soft flesh of your thigh. “and what’s that?” you rested your head on his chest. “how would you like to expand your business and make something for a different kind of clientele?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion at his words. “what do you mean?” rafe motioned towards his backpack and the scale.

“edibles. i supply, and you bake.”

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yasministration · 5 months ago

Text

Love, Mum and Dad - Harry, James x reader

summary: Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had. (angst/fluff) wc: 2.8k

Sirius didn’t know if it was the time to give Harry the memory book. The gift you’d planned on building until Harry was 17, when you’d finally give it to him. At James’s bachelor party — a small gathering between him, Sirius, Frank Longbottom and the Prewett twins (You had claimed Remus for your bachelorette), James had excitedly revealed what you’d told him. “She said, I want to start collecting all our memories from when we started dating to make a memory book. A memory book that we can keep making until our future baby is an adult, and then we’ll give it to him.” The boys had all cheered, giving James a few pats on the back. “So apparently she wants us to have a son, and I know exactly what I want to name him.” He had joyfully laughed along with the others, refusing to reveal the name of his future boy, claiming that it’s somehow bad luck.

Now that Harry was actually here at Grimmauld Place, even at the age of 15, Sirius knew he had to give him the book. Sirius knew Harry was insecure, doubting that anyone loved him at all, and especially facing such dark times, he knew Harry could use the love of his parents, a love that had saved his life once before.

Harry was a wanderer, he couldn’t sleep at night, so Sirius was not surprised to find him in his family’s make shift library, scanning through all the outdated titles. Sirius made himself known by clearing his throat from where he stood in the doorway. Harry jumped, spinning around to look at Sirius, who held the memory book in his right hand. Harry’s godfather told him to follow him to a private room, one with a pensieve he hadn’t seen before. “This is from your parents. They wanted to give it to you when you became an adult, but given the circumstances…” Sirius averted his teary gaze as Harry took the book in his hands, flicking through the pages, his breath becoming heavier as he caught glimpses of moving images in the book.

“Each and every memory… Just don’t forget to put them back.” And with that, a teary eyed Sirius left Harry alone. When Harry properly opened the first page of the photo book, he found small tubes with glimmering memories next to each photo. His breath shook. He looked at the first picture.

The first image of you and James had been taken from afar, as though someone had been spying on you. When he released the memory into the pensieve below, he quickly learned that Sirius and Remus had been the ones spying on you, on your first date. Harry had laughed, listening to Sirius constantly narrating everything to a muggle camera he held, watching as he and Remus quickly ran behind people to avoid being seen by you. Harry quickly learned through these memories that not every memory would make him laugh, and that he would actually shed a few more tears than intended.

This next memory was different than all the other celebrations — the anniversaries, the weddings — Harry realised, as he watched you nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. You were in the kitchen of the house you and James had just moved into. It wasn’t decorated yet, with the exception of a single image of you and James on your wedding day. Your entire house was barely furnished, with James taking on all the building due to the growing baby in your belly. Harry jumped up on the counter to watch the scene in front of him unfold. You had a worried crease between your eyebrows, and you leaned back on the counter, staring at the warm batch of cookies you had baked. James walked in front of you with a smile, his arms sliding under your sweater to rest on your small bump — one Harry hadn’t realised was present until James brought it to his attention. Harry hopped off the counter, taking slow steps towards you to admire your baby bump. He tried reaching out to touch it, but his hand went right through you.

“What if they say no James, what if they don’t want to?” You asked worriedly, looking up at James. “Baby,” James started with a chuckle, “They’re going to be the most excited people on earth.” You huffed doubtfully, a small pout on your lips that James happily pressed his lips to. “James.” You muttered, but before your new husband could reply, the front door slammed open. “Honey, I’m home!” Sirius loudly called, causing you and James to laugh, though you had clear distress laced in your voice. “I really don’t know why we keep apparating outside your front door when we just end up barging in anyway.” Sirius announced as he walked into the kitchen. “Oh hey, cookies!”“I for one, suggested to knock.” Clarified Remus as he followed his boyfriend into the room. James moved from where he stood in front of you so that your best friends could see you.

James tutted, snatching the plate of freshly bakes cookies from the table just as Sirius reached out to take one, causing the boy to frown. “In the living room.” The two boys went silent, Sirius running a hand through his hair as Remus nervously tugged on the sleeves of his sweater. James gestured to the door, letting the boys wander out so that he could wrap his free arm around your waist, tugging you close to his side to kiss your cheek.

Harry eagerly followed you all into the living room, which he noticed looked painfully bare. It looked like something that was becoming a family’s first home, though it wasn't quite there yet. There were so many pictures laid out on the coffee table, empty picture frames stacked beside them. In a corner of the room, tools were scattered on the floor, wooden parts and instructions beside them. Harry theorised that it might be a crib in the making.

“Okay, sit down, have a cookie.” You said, hands clasped in front of you. You took in a deep breath as Remus and Sirius both cautiously reached for a cookie, watching as James hugged you from behind, his hands snaking around your waist to rest on your stomach. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and decided to take initiative when you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. “So you guys know we’re having a baby.” The two boys nodded, and Harry watched closely as Sirius put a hand on Remus’s thigh. “We want you guys to be the godparents!” You squeaked loudly, physically cringing as you revealed the information.

“Shut up!” Sirius screamed, immediately jumping up on his feet with a giant smile on his face as he ran up to hug you. James threw his hands up in the air jealously, watching his best friend hug his wife, and accepting the hug Remus offered him. “This is what you baked cookies for?” Remus asked with a smile when he let go of James to wrap his arms around you tightly. You nodded, tears filling your eyes, and Remus pulled you close to his chest as you sniffled. “So is that a yes?” Your question was immediately answered by the two boys, with Sirius saying “This calls for drinks!” before apologising profusely as he immediately realised that you could, in fact, not drink. This time when you laughed at his words, it was genuine.

Harry was smiling widely, desperate to join in on the shared hugs when he took notice of the lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow. Not wanting to cry, the teenager left the memory, returning it to its glass tube before putting the next one in the pensieve.

This time, Harry is somewhere new. Somewhere he’s never been before. A warm house, with a similar atmosphere to the Burrow. There’s bustling energy, and a special kind of joy in the air. The only person Harry recognises in the room is Sirius, who leads a woman into the living room of the house with an arm familiarly thrown over her shoulder. The woman looks like someone he knows, but he can’t tell who. It’s only when the mysterious woman is led towards an unknown man that it clicks for Harry. His father is the spitting image of the man in front of him, and therefore, so is he. “Oh Euphemia, I can’t believe we’re meeting our grandbaby.” The man says, hugging his wife tightly. The pair doesn’t look nearly old enough to have grandchildren, they barely look like they’re in their 40s. Someone comes in from the garden door, saying “I’ve picked the apples for you Mrs. Potter, is there anything else I can do?” But she only thanks Remus, who's wrapped in countless warm layers of clothing, asking him to put the apples in the kitchen.

There’s two soft knocks on the front door, and the entire room goes silent as James’s parents rush to open the door. James shyly smiles at them, his arm protectively wrapped around your side. Euphemia immediately bursts into tears when her eyes land on you and your newborn baby, only a few days old. Fleamont wraps his arms around his son, who instantly begins crying like his mother, and Remus ushers you into the house, closing the door behind you to protect you from the chilly weather. Euphemia wants to hug you, but she's too busy wiping her tears away as she asks questions about your health and delivery, making sure you’re okay. You nudge your husband’s side, and he happily takes Harry from your arms, showing him off to the other three men in the room.

Euphemia hugs you tightly before leading you to sit down and instantly handing you some tea. She lets the men rave over the little baby boy, but she’s concerned for the new mother's health. It doesn’t take long for James to come back to your side carrying Harry in his arms, and he takes his mother’s place next to you on the couch. He doesn’t let anyone hold Harry, too happy to finally be able to hold him himself after you've spent nine months doing so. Present Harry walks across the room, between Sirius and his grandfather, over the gifts on the floor and past his beautiful grandmother to sit on the arm of the couch next to you. He looks at his young sleeping figure, only born days ago, and knows how much he is loved. By his parents, grandparents, godparents, and all your friends and family.

And he knows it’s too much. All Harry ever wanted was for his parents to be alive, and the thought of the life he could be living with them right now makes him feel as though his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He would do anything to be back in that position again: in his parents’ arms, a joyful family around him. He didn’t even need his grandparents there; you two would have been enough.

Harry needs to take a moment for himself when he finally breaks away from his memory. He leans on a table for support, taking in heaving breaths as he sobs and sobs, tears dripping on the ground. The small glass tube containing the memory rolls onto the floor and Harry dives to catch it, holding it close to his chest as pain runs through his entire body. These memories should have made him happy, he thinks, so why do they hurt so much? Harry gasps for oxygen, trying to urge his panic and sadness away, trying to turn it into happiness for the things he had, for the love he still has. Slowly, he pushes himself off the ground, moving all the way to the last page of your memory book and taking out the corresponding tube.

When Harry is sucked into the pensieve again, the atmosphere has completely changed. He’s located back at home again, in Godric’s Hollow, where you and James had built your forever home. The sole sight of the homey and safe atmosphere has tears clouding Harry’s vision again, but his feet bring him further down the entryway and into the living room of your house. The first thing Harry does is take in the sight of the decorated house, made to look like his very own heaven. The lighting is warm, photos of family and friends hung up on the wall next to the fireplace. The room is filled with plants, and a small crib was placed next to an armchair. And here you are: sat there with James on the couch, sharing a passionate kiss. The moment is intimate, with your legs tangled up and James’s hand cupping your jaw, but Harry can’t bring himself to look away from you. “James.” He hears you mumble in the kiss, eyes fluttering open as you let James’s familiarity envelop you. “My sweetheart.” James echoes, his eyes still shut as he immerses himself in the moment.

Harry gulps loudly, harshly wiping a tear off his cheek as he watches his dad’s eyes slowly open, a wide smile forming on his face when he finds your eyes already on him. You laugh softly as your husband kisses you again, but you instantly pull away from him, eyes going wide with alert. Harry frowns, his expression matching his father’s, and that’s he he hears it: the soft padding of feet on the floor, and a quiet call of “Mama?” Harry’s eyes are instantly glued to his younger self, appearing around the corner on wobbly feet.

Your body runs past him in a flash, travelling across the living room on quick feet to kneel in front of your son. Young Harry makes grabby hands at you, and you immediately scoop him up in your arms, speaking to him in a soft whisper. “What’s wrong sweetheart? You hungry?” You ask, cradling him in your arms. Young Harry makes an incomprehensible noise, and Harry laughs in adoration. He has to be a year or two in this memory. Harry glances back to where James now stands up, walking over to his family, where he wraps his arms around both of you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Think he’s hungry.” You tell your husband, who hums, leading you to the couch to sit down. James helps you pull your jumper up just enough for baby Harry to latch on to your breast, humming in innocent satisfaction. You smile down at him, running a hand through his soft short hair. James carefully wraps an arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as you blink tiredly. Harry stares at the perfect image of the family in front of him, and soon enough, realises he’s not the only one crying. James is sniffling next to you, taking in shaky breaths in a poor attempt not to disturb you or baby Harry. You lift your head off your husband’s shoulder to look up at him, and smile lovingly at him, a hand lifting off the back of Harry’s head to wipe at James’s tears. “James.” You whisper, and he instantly opens his mouth, voice breaking as he says “I love you both so, so much.” And his words have a sob wracking out of present Harry’s chest.

He floats out of the memory just as you bring James into a short kiss, the sight of him being loved by his parents the last thing he sees before finding himself standing at the foot of the pensieve again. Harry shuts the memory book, closing his eyes tightly — it’s enough for one lonesome night. But something catches his attention as his hand rests on the back of the book. An odd texture under his fingertips, forming crevices into the leather. Harry’s eyes flutter open, and he notices a gold engraving into the book. Engravings that form letters, words. A note.

Dear Harry,

You’re finally an adult!!! You can do anything you ever wanted, even without our permission. And move out if we’re too annoying sometimes, though that feels wrong to write with you sitting in front of us as a little baby boy. We just wanted you to know that no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, we’ll always support you and be here for you. And not just us, everyone in this book, everyone who forms your family.

We love you so much Harry, and even though you’re all grown now, you’ll always be our baby, just like in these first memories.

Love,

Mum and Dad

To say the least, Harry doesn't sleep that night.

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kuurechr · 2 months ago

Text

Satoru woke up with a start.

His pulse raced. His breaths came out laboured, heavy, as he recovered from waking up so suddenly.

The contents of his dream - no, his nightmare - were quickly leaving his head. He knew it had something to do with you. He knew his chest was constricting in fear. He was sure there was blood, lots of it. Even though nothing was clear, he knew what he must have dreamed of.

He looked to the other side of the bed.

You weren't there.

But he knew you wouldn't be. He knew you were sent on a mission at the worst possible time. He'd insisted on going instead, but you said you'd be fine. He reached out for the dressing table beside the bed, where both of your phones would usually be. Instead, it was just his tonight, and he grabbed his phone.

2:46 A.M.

Satoru sighed and got up. His throat was dry, and he could do with a midnight treat. He stretched his arms out, yawning as he made his way through the bedroom door. He had to step through the living room in order to make it to the kitchen.

On the coffee table, in front of the sofa, were cookies.

Despite his grogginess, Satoru smiled.

He loved having kids.

The trap they had set up was so obvious. Satoru couldn't help but chuckle.

He grabbed the cookies, knowing it would set off the trap, which was somehow supposed to capture Santa Claus - a man who may not have been taller than Satoru, maybe not even much more white haired, but definitely a man who weighed a lot more. The measly trap barely captured a half of Satoru's hand.

He took the trap off, and ate the cookies, eyeing the milk left out wearily - there was no way he trusted milk that had been out since who knows when.

Lights suddenly turned on, not blinding Satoru since he knew what was coming. He still winced, to be all dramatic, and hissed as he saw the kids gape at him. Tsumiki seemed fully awake and energetic, while Megumi, behind her, was still rubbing sleep from out of his eyes.

"Aw, what!" Tsumiki huffed, stomping her foot. "You're not the one we wanted!"

Satoru smirked as he took another bite of the cookie. "That's a bit rude, no? Is Santa the one who bought you all those sweets last week?"

"Those were for you, be honest," Megumi grumbled, walking over to the couch and sprawling over it, resting his head.

"Even when you're tired, you find a way to annoy me," Satoru grunted. "Anyways," Satoru said, as he continued munching. "I thought you didn't believe in Santa, 'Gumi."

"I don't," Megumi said hesitantly. "But..." He looked away. "It doesn't hurt to try and figure something out."

Satoru chuckled. "So, were you excited to see a big man with white hair munching away?"

Tsumiki pouted. "Don't laugh! I really thought we caught him!" She let out a loud sigh and walked over to the couch as well, pushing Megumi's legs to the side so she could sit comfortably as well. "I was so ready to tell everyone at school."

"Well, tell them you got something better," Satoru grinned, gesturing to himself. Megumi huffed, reaching his hand out and slapping the crumbs off of his shirt.

"When's Y/N getting back?" Megumi asked.

Satoru, reminded of you and the nightmare he'd had, grimaced slightly. "I'm not sure." He pulled out his phone from his pocket. No texts or calls from you. You were in a different timezone, opposite to Japan, and if the kids weren't here, Satoru would simply pop in and check on you. To be frank, Tsumiki and Megumi were kids that Satoru would never worry about leaving alone for a week, much less two mere seconds. But he knew you'd yell at him and he'd rather not have that.

And he himself would rather not leave the kids alone on Christmas - it was too important of a day.

Satoru looked over at the presents under the Christmas tree. The light was dimmed by the lights of the rest of the room. But it was important. It held a special place in this family's hearts now. These were the same lights they had used for two years of Christmas, now the third.

There were just as many presents as there had been during their first Christmas.

"Will she get here before we're supposed to wake up?" Tsumiki asked, tilting her head. The tinge of hopefulness made Satoru's heart churn. He really needed a confirmation from you, something that said that you were alright.

"She said she'd try," Satoru said, forcing a smile. "But what's the point when the two of you can't get up tomorrow because you're tired from staying up! She'll end up blaming me for that, you know?"

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru chuckled along, as he began to usher them both to bed.

Once he had successfully done so, wishing the two goodnight and shutting their door, he let out a tired sigh. He looked back down at his phone, and still, nothing, no word from you or from anyone else about you.

He got a bit too scared to head back to bed, even though he wouldn't like to admit it out loud. He was nervous about living through that nightmare again. He went to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face again.

As he slowly prepared himself to go to bed, practically procrastinating it, he swear he heard a noise. It was a subtle and quiet. A knock on the door, making sure it wouldn't wake up the kids. Satoru practically tripped over his feet, dashing to the door, as quietly as he could, and fumbling with the lock as he opened it. He didn't need to check a peephole to check who it was. He just knew.

He swung the door open, and there you were, bundled up in winter clothes to withstand the cold air that had blown into your shared home now, no doubt making Satoru freeze in his light pyjamas. But Satoru couldn't care. He was too happy to see you, your chapped and bitten lips, your tired smile, your loving eyes, your slightly runny nose.

Satoru grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss.

You melted into it. You missed his warmth and his presence as much as he missed yours, even if it hasn't been a measly 24 hours. For some reason, not being able to sleep in bed together when one of you had missions at night, was always worse.

You tapped out, your freezing fingers unable to move much anymore. "Inside?" Satoru asked, breathlessly. You nodded, shivering despite your warm attire. He nodded and hurried you inside, shutting the door. Your home was heated well, but the presence of the people you loved probably made it feel all the more warmer.

Before you could take any of your winter clothes off, Satoru reached out and pulled you in for a hug. You chuckled, exhaustion seeping through, but hugged back anyways. "Did something happen, Toru?"

Satoru squeezed you tighter. "Nightmare," he whispered. He knew your next question. "I'm alright now though."

"Are you sure?" You asked, patting his back lightly.

He smiled, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "You're here now."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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gothghostiie · 1 month ago

Text

had brain worms and shared them with @pricegotmedickmatized last night and she fed into it and gave me ideas so now have to write for I am plagued by the demons

cw: age gap (20s/40s), some size difference, risky place, crying, fingering, orgasm denial(kinda), price talks about fisting, price is a pervert, reader is a virgin, fem!afab!reader

Its been a few years since Price had retired. some stupid injury, something with his knee that he didnt listen to when the doctor explained it to him - probably what got him to the point of being discharged in the first place. he does insist that he's fine, he could still work perfectly; he wants to feel useful still, like he's contributing to society in some way at least. it's been something he's had set in his head ever since his first divorce - he wasn't even contributing a family, so it had to be work until he found someone to carry his babies once again. but until then, he likes to help out the old couple next door.

they're sweet people, one of these couples that's still truly in love despite being married for longer than he's been on this planet, still saying I love you with a goodnight kiss. it's his dream to be like that with someone, once he finds someone as sweet as that cold couple he's gonna lock them down, sink his fangs into their neck and never let go again. his age is catching up and he's getting worried, nervous almost. he even tried dating apps but that was horrid - either the people don't text back or he goes on a few dates and ends up scaring them away. who can blame them when he asks how many kids they want on the third date? john sure blames them. it's not his fault that he's the way he is. it's not his fault that he's desperate to have a sweet thing to call his own again. to love and care about, to dote on and kiss all over, to fuck to sleep every night and every morning. it's really not his fault. really.

He's laid under the kitchen sink, flashlight propped up next to him as he's fixing a dripping pipe for them. the granny already had brought him lemonade and some cookies, watching with a soft sigh of relief when price comes up and gives her a warm smile with a thumbs up. "all fixed, love." he tells her, she beams. pats him on the arm and tells him what a good job he did, how thankful she is. sometimes he thinks the two of them just like having him around and don't actually need anything. but its whatever, he doesnt mind. especially not if theres cookies in it for him.

he's washing his hands when the front door opens. it just opens, no knocking, no doorbell. he turns his head in confusion, curious to see who's keys are jingling like that. his eyes light up when he sees you walk in with two bags of groceries; everything about you is perfect. your hair, your eyes, your lips that curve into a perfect little smile when the old lady greets you, the sundress and matching cardigan (he wonders if its handmade), the way you fill it out so perfectly, little earrings youre wearing - its perfect. youre perfect.

"Sweetie," she says with an almost excited tone, "this is John. hes the nice young man thats been helping us around the house, i told you about him." Price blushes a bit and reaches his hand out to you, you put your hand into his after putting the bags down, introducing yourself with a shy smile. "shes our granddaughter." your grandma adds proudly, she loves gushing about you. "shes such a sweet, nice girl, always bringing us what we need and helping keep things clean around here. smart as a whip too!" your face heats up, john chuckles.

"charmed.." he says in a low hum, giving you a wink. you look so innocent, so sweet and shy, it's almost too good. your grandma pats you on the arm and goes back to the living room where your grandpa sits, waiting for her to come watch their show with him, leaving the two of you alone. John sits down on one the chairs, arms crossed as he watches you fuss around the kitchen to put away the groceries. he watches you closely, the slight sway in your hips, the little bounce of your tits, the way your dress rides up your thighs when you put things into the upper cabinets - and all he can imagine is sitting you up on the counter, folding you in half and putting a baby into you. he just knows you'd look so good, fat and round with his baby. he knows he'll have to prove it too.

watches you put the rest of the groceries into the fridge right next to him, that's when he pounces. leans over and slips his big, calloused hand under your dress - before you can even react to the fabric being lifted he's already got his hand on your pussy, cupping it with a firm squeeze. It makes you gasp, your knees buckle slightly, one hand gripping the fridge tightly as your mouth falls open. you want to say something, to tell him to get his dirty hands off of you - but his finger find your clit through the fabric and presses down slightly, his palm pressing against your lips more firmly. his touch isn't like what you're used to; the boys your age have always touched you so differently. they were always too fast, trying to get what they want too quick, touching you like they're just guessing what they're doing or not even paying attention - it's the reason you never let any of them get any further than your panties.

but John?

John's touch is different. his touch feels good. it feels secure, like he knows what he's doing, like he knows just how to touch you, like he's confident you'll like what hes doing. the mere way he touches you makes your brain melt, makes your pussy wet. he chuckles softly, rubbing small circles on your nub as he speaks quietly. "feels good, doesnt it?" he muses, squeezing your cunt a bit tighter - enough to make you snap out of your trance and push your hips back against him. the subtle movement makes him laugh, shaking his head. "thought so.." his fingers work you gently, slowly, agonisingly. you're not one to just take what you want, but maybe just this once?

you push your hips back more, just for him to pull away a bit, easing up the friction; and it makes you whine in frustration - loudly. you don't know what's gotten into you, you don't know why his touch makes you so wet, so loud, so desperate. desperate enough to forget your grandparents are in the next room over, to forget to keep quiet. lucky for you, John is here to think for you right now. he quickly pulls his hand away and stands up, muffling your protest with a strong hand clasping over your mouth. your eyes widen as you feel him shut you up, as you feel his big, burly body press against your back, his hips agaisnt your lower back. "shh.. 's alright, honey.." his other hand finds purchase on your hip, starting to pull up the fabric of your dress once again. "sorry doll. gotta get a good look at the goods before I buy them. you'll let me, won't you?" he chuckles as you squirm. "I'll make it worth your while, don't you worry."

his hand slips from your hip to your pussy once again, this time from the front. fingers graze the damp fabric of your underwear, making him chuckle. "jesus.. these are soaked." he shakes his head, pressing down briefly before hooking his fingers into the sticky fabric, pulling it aside. he watches closely, putting his chin down on your shoulder for quick access to the soft skin of your neck. he watches himself free your cunt and groans at the sight.

Your untouched little pussy. She's gorgeous, slightly swollen and wet, eager for his touch. "look at her.. she's so wet.." he grins, fingers dipping between your lips and immediately coating in your slick. "shes all wet." he murmurs, rubbing back and forth slowly, getting a good feel for her. your clit twitches almost in excitement, your tight hole clenching despite him not evening touching it yet, your sweet slick spreading and making it easy for him to slip two fingers inside you with a soft grunt. your eyes widen, body tensing slightly, a whimper gets muffled by his hand on your mouth. "Fucking hell.." he mutters softly, curling his fingers against your sweet spot - you immediately become putty in his arms. it's a foreign feeling, it feels so different from your own, much smaller fingers. his fingers are long and thick, two of them already slightly stretching you out, making your eyes roll back in your head with the precision of his movements.

"you should go help them, Sweetie."

"what a pretty girl.." he croons, making your face heat up - but he's not talking to you. he's talking to your pussy. "she's bloody tight too.." he mutters quietly, his voice strained with a mild effort. marvels at the way it flutters and twitches around his fingers. "you been neglecting her? not giving her what she needs?" he scoffs softly, a weird sense of guilt washes over you, you don't quite understand it. "poor thing.. needs someone else to take care of her.." he slips another finger in, making you gasp, the stretch burning slightly. It makes tears prick at your eyes. "look at how tight she is, I'm only three fingers in.." he scoffs softly, his wrist jerking upwards. "how's she supposed to take my cock, huh?" the words make your eyes widen. "gonna have to get her ready..."

his palm presses against your clit, rubbing it with every little movement his hand makes, with every little twitch of your hips - with every desperate try to ride his fingers even just a bit. his teeth find your neck and bite at it gently, not even leaving a mark, just enough to make you flinch at it - god he's enjoying this. the boner pressing against your back is more than enough proof that he is, if the way he was panting into you didn't already tell you everything you need to know. but he doesn't stop there. of course he doesn't. another thick finger squeezes it's way inside your poor, full pussy, stretching you more than you thought just one finger more could. a wave of slight pain curses through you, the burn holding on as you clench around his fingers that only use your own arousal as lube. a few stray tears start running down your cheeks.

"Have to work her open.." he whispers against your skin, leaning his hear up to kiss the tears away. his fingers wiggle slowly, like he's done this a thousand times and knows how it's done, like its muscle memory to work a tight cunt open for him. "gonna have to feed her my whole hand just so she can take my cock.." the thought makes your stomach tighten. you've never had anything that big inside you, hell, you've never even thought about something that big inside you. a slight fear curses through your body, making you tense up, he chuckles. his hand presses onto your mouth harder, the thumb rubbing your skin soothingly as he pushes his fingers upwards; making your body jolt with a cry. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

despite yourself you nod. you nod and whimper, your hips moving as if they have a mind of their own, trying to fuck yourself on his thick fingers. even when you feel his thumb graze your stretched hole, the fear gets eaten up by the promise of pleasure that you know will ruin you for ever, for any other man that may get his hands on you.

"good girl.." he croons - and then let's go. he steps back and sits back down in the chair, reaching over to pull your dress down. you look shocked, frozen for a moment, mouth hanging open as your pussy gets left gaping and empty, dripping down your trembling thighs. you turn around to yell at him, scream at him, hit him - but just as you do your grandpa enters the kitchen with a smile, non the wiser.

"Sweetie, could you come help your grandma and me with the TV?" he asks. you nod. its all you can do. your grandpa nods in acknowledgement and walks to the living room, expecting you to follow. you glance back at price - and he just sits there, hiding his smile behind the same hand that's just been inside you, winking at you.

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bunni-v1 · 4 months ago

Note

May we get some crk thoughts, my liege? I too have a hyperfixation—

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcannons (SFW & NSFW)

🍓Thank you for the excuse to write this shit, I feel less insane being asked to do it lol. I still think this might taint my public image, so lets hope none of my future employers fuck with tumblr. Anyway only smc since he's who I'm obsessing over. I was gonna add pv, but I write wayyyy too much to include both of them on one post. Maybe I'll do him if someone asks nicely. I'll have a mix of both sfw and nsfw so beware lol.

MDNI (I'll find u)

TW: Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive behaviors; Stalking mentioned; Nsfw under the cut; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader; Sfw & Nsfw headcannons

Credit for Beast Bite Idea: @rollingeevee (go give them love I adore this AU)

-To start I'm gonna say, he's insane, like genuinely. He leans into a lot of yandere-esque behaviors, but I firmly believe he's not a full-on yandere, just really fucked up in the head (trauma and such, poor thing, wah wah wah.)

-Pre-Corruption Shadow Milk surely had a lot of admirers, but admiration is very different from genuine love and connection. He was, in a very literal sense, on a different level than all the cookies on earthbread. He's immortal, a god meant to care for all cookies, romantic relationships with cookies (other than the other heroes) just aren't an option in his mind. (For the sake of these, none of the beasts have had any romantic interaction with him, because I don't wanna deal with that can of worms rn.)

-All that to say, it's highly unlikely he has much experience in relationships. Maybe he's had flings, and some sexual encounters, but I doubt he would commit to someone he would inevitably lose to time. And, sure, he certainly could artificially extend their lifetime... but that's unethical and unfair to his partner. The burden of immortality is not one a regular cookie is baked to bear.

-So when he is inevitably corrupted and sealed away, romance isn't really a thought on his mind. He's very fixated on escaping that stupid tree and enacting his revenge. Which he does, at least in part, and with his freedom comes half of his powers and ensuing chaos.

-There are not many ways he could meet you if I'm quite honest, so I'll leave that up to personal interpretation. However you do meet him, though, you have to be intriguing. He gets bored of people easily, so you have to stand out -- be that in your demeanor or the way you speak or how you challenge him, it just has to be interesting. Once he's interested he's hooked.

-He's rather... mmm... obsessive? He likely stalks you for a while before he makes any moves. He wants to learn your patterns, the cookies you surround yourself with, the things you like, your job, your favorite foods, what flowers you like, and how do you feel about his chaos? He'll even manipulate things around you, just to see how you might react. (Is it fucked up? Yeah, lol! But isn't it equally endearing? He seems to think so.)

-You have frequent reoccurring dreams about him in this period of time. You've only seen him from a distance at this point, but you can't quite shake him from your thoughts. What's very important here is that you realize that your thoughts are not your own. Acknowledge that he's watching, and make sure that he's aware you're aware. Be that by purposefully doing something he could recognize as acknowledgment, or outright saying that you're aware he's messing with you. He values curiosity and intelligence in a person, if you can break yourself out of his cycle he's 100% sold on you.

-It doesn't take much longer after that for him to make his first official appearance. Bowing gracefully in front of you as he materializes from thin air, smiling like a man driven mad by infatuation.

-Believe it or not, he's really not all that creepy or pushy. He's very playful and charming, and while you have the knowledge he'd been watching you for a long time at this point, it's hard not to fall for him. He flirts with an ease that no other cookie really has, and he's so very funny never failing to get a smile out of you at his jokes.

-Now, this may go against what others characterize him as a lot, but I don't believe he's the type to steal you away and lock you up. Shadow Milk is a cookie who wants to be wanted, he doesn't want his feelings to be entirely one-sided, it would really hurt him to pour himself into someone who does not want to reciprocate his passions.

-He's unbelievably patient with you. Despite what the mental manipulation from earlier implies, he allows you to set the pace and make the moves, mostly nudging you gently in the direction he wants you to go now that he has your attention. Again, he wants you to choose him. He wants you to love him, so he will happily wait as long as it takes for you to realize and accept your longing for him.

-He gives you the flowers you like, and listens to you talk about your exceedingly boring days (with rapt attention, of course, he loves listening to you talk as much as he loves talking). If you ask, he'll take you anywhere you'd like to go on earthbread with a snap of his fingers, showing you sights you'd only dreamed of seeing. (Whether or not these are illusions are still up for debate).

-It's very hard not to fall for him with all this considered, and he knows that of course. He was just waiting for you to confess, and you have to confess. He won't do it even if you make it clear you want him to. It's not something he'd ever admit to you -- or himself -- but he doesn't want to risk even the slightest bit of rejection. It would break him more than he's already been broken, so you'll have to do it for our poor little jester.

-When you do though? Oh, he's over the moon! Practically swooning as he scoops you up and spins you around in celebration. He's so overjoyed. He is wanted, there is someone in this world who loves him genuinely. There's no false platitudes or any worshipping done, just raw affection between the two of you. (Just the tiniest bit of manipulation at the start, but obviously you've dismissed and forgiven that at this point).

-Again, he doesn't immediately take you away from your life if you don't wish to be. He does heavily encourage you to come spend your days with him, though. He can take care of you, he's literally a god, you'll never ever want for anything so long as he can control it (which he can, duh).

-I feel it very important to emphasize that in a relationship with him, you are equal. Even if you literally cannot be equal in stature and power, you are equal in the relationship -- if anything you have more sway over him than he does over you. He's very, very in love with you, and he will do just about anything you ask of him so long as it doesn't interfere with obtaining his souljam.

-Having established that, let's get to the fun stuff.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is very physically and verbally affectionate. If you are around him it's likely he's touching you in some way. Whether that's him literally hanging off you like a baby monkey or just a hand on your arm, he likes to have a physical tether to you.

-Plenty of messy wet kisses all over your cute little face, he loves seeing you get all flustered and feeling your dough burn up from his barrage of affections.

-It's also very common for him to carry you around in various different styles. Over the shoulder, piggback, princess style, like a sack of potatoes... doesn't really matter. It's also a regular occurrence that you fall asleep as he floats around the spire of all knowledge. He doesn't need sleep, and he does not sleep often, but he likes holding you while you do so. It's proof of your trust in him, and he usually uses the time you are sleeping to be more genuinely affectionate. Soft words whispered in your ears bringing you sweet dreams as he runs his hands up and down your back, kissing the crown of your head with such love it would make a grown man blush.

-He calls you cute little nicknames, like shortcake or sweet thing. The most common, and his favorites, are doll/dolly and little star. (Little star is something he hums with such affection it makes you weak in the knees. You know he's feeling more adoring when he uses it.) Talks about how cute you are, how pretty you are, how desirable you are. How any cookie would be so lucky to have you -- too bad they could never compete with him!

-That being said, most of his affections are pretty surface-level stuff at the start of the relationship. At least, what you get to see. He has a hard time opening up to others, he's a very sensitive cookie deep down in his dough. It takes quite a while to get him out of his shell and start showing you who he is as himself.

-Who he is, is a very aching cookie. He lost so much, struggled with his own corruption, and still hasn't fully accepted it himself. He feels as though he has been betrayed and discarded by everything he once loved, it's no wonder he has a hard time showing you such ugly sides of himself.

-You warm him up, melt him slowly, and you get to see peaks of genuine love and adoration behind those heterochromatic eyes. He may never allow you to see all of him at once, but you do get to know him. If you continue to love him despite seeing the uglier side of things, there is a distinct shift in the way he showers you in affection.

-Initially, he's very showy with everything, his love is a spectacle for the two of you to watch. It's almost like he's put himself outside of the relationship rather than in it. After he opens up, it's quieter, more intimate. He's more involved in it, like it's less about showing you how much he loves you, and more about sharing that mutual feeling between the two of you.

-You didn't have much room to show him how much you cared for him, but now you do. He allows you to initiate physical affection and doesn't flinch away at the touch. He accepts your words of admiration for what they are, not questioning your intentions for any reason.

-Kisses are softer, more full of emotion. Less like he's drowning you and more like he's trying to swallow you up. Desperation to have you as close to him as possible can take him over quite frequently during make-out sessions, and they leave you breathless and fuzzy rather than burning and flustered.

-Now, you can't write Shadow Milk without acknowledging how fucking jealous he is all the time. Now, I believe it's less of a jealousy thing (though, that really is something that is frequent), and more of a possessive/protective thing.

-He doesn't get jealous of the average cookie, alright, not unless you show interest for whatever reason. They're not really a threat to him, and why would they be? He's secure enough to know that you wouldn't leave him for some random half-baked simpleton. HOWEVER, he DOES get jealous of the other beasts and especially Pure Vanilla Cookie.

-The other beasts aren't as powerful as him, but they're still powerful and cunning (some of them at least). Truly, on a level of divinity and ability to care for you, they are his closest competition. Even still, he only gets jealous if one of them seems to want to stake a claim on you, or you become too fascinated with one of them.

-If neither is the case, he highly encourages you to form relationships with them. They are cookies that, seemingly, he cares for. While they can be difficult to get along with, if you are someone Shadow Milk deems worth his time, you are someone they will also deem worth their time.

-Ah, I should also mention he gets... pouty about Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. He doesn't see either of them as a threat, so I couldn't say he's jealous... he just gets annoyed when you're being attentive to them when he's around. Black Sapphire is smart enough to set hard boundaries with you to start, for both of your sakes, but your relationship with him is very positive. You are Shadow Milk Cookies partner, after all, you're a very important Cookie and Black Sapphire has no reason to be unkind to you.

-Candy Apple Cookie on the other hand is the one who's jealous here. You find her positively adorable and her little crush on Shadow Milk is nothing but endearing in your eyes, but she very much is huffy about your relationship with him. Of course, she can't do anything to you, that would only turn against her in the end so she just pouts. You can win her over slowly, though, just by being sweet to her and comforting her when Shadow Milk rejects her once again.

-Your relationship with them seemingly pleases Shadow Milk, though you can't really tell if he's happy or not. Sometimes he seems pleased, other times he's pouty, so who really knows other than him.

-However, the cookie that really seriously gets under his skin the most is Pure Vanilla. He does everything in his power to keep the two of you as far away from one another as possible, but it's almost inevitable that you meet PV, especially when he becomes Truthless Recluse.

-Pure Vanilla is everything Shadow Milk is not. Kind, gentle, patient, soft-spoken, and of course truthful. He's very afraid you may meet PV and realize that you do not want to be with him anymore. You would rather have someone like Pure Vanilla Cookie to dote on you in a fashion that he cannot bring himself to do openly yet.

-Of course, you don't, but that doesn't stop the fear from seeping into his dough. The only way to ease him is by being patient and displaying your loyalty through and through. He won't really be calm until Pure Vanilla is take care of, but you can assure him that you won't be leaving him for his other half anytime soon.

-Circling back to his possessive and protective tendencies, Shadow Milk does see you as an object of his affection. He is fully aware you are your own cookie, you are not something he ever wishes to control entirely and remove autonomy from, but you are his. His to keep and love and protect.

-He's very obsessive about your well-being and happiness. If something hurts you (alive or not), it's gone, destroyed. He won't even make a show of it, it just disappears. If you are upset, he is there doing everything to make you feel better. Whatever you want, whatever you need! He's here for you, please rely on him (he needs you to rely on him).

-If you are out and about he keeps an eye on you, which you are aware of. It's rather obvious, so even if he doesn't tell you, you can feel him watching you. Ignoring it becomes easier with time, but if anything happens to you he wastes no time in popping up and taking care of whatever happens.

-This leads into my next headcanon (inspired by the ever-talented @rollingeevee go check them out!), he has a bite of sorts that he uses as a means of monitoring you. It's something he uses to pinpoint where you are at all times, even when he's not monitoring you actively. The bite acts as a connection between you and him, emotionally and physically tying the two of you together.

-You can feel what he feels through the bite, anger, sadness, joy, pretty much anything he feels you can feel. It also acts as a reminder to you that you should not stray too far from where he is, sending an uncomfortably heavy feeling through your dough. (This is a manifestation of his worry, and it only really happens when he notices you've gone somewhere a little too far from the safety of the spire).

-However, this goes both ways. He can also feel what you feel at the same intensity that you feel it. You can, likely less so, also tell where he is. There is a pull in the back of your mind from the magic telling you where to find him at all times, and it only lets go when you are in proximity of him. If you miss him, he feels the same heavy feeling in his dough reminding him that you would like him by your side.

-Now, finally, we have to address the topic of mortality. Shadow Milk is likely more aware than you ever will be of how mortal you really are. This is why he's so very protective and possessive of you, he doesn't want to lose you prematurely.

-However, if you are okay with it, he is completely fine with artificially extending your life span. In fact, he does it happily. He might even start doing it without asking if the topic hasn't been broached in a certain amount of time. He wants to spend as long as you'll allow him by your side, and if that means breaking a few rules of magic and cookie society then so be it. He's a god after all, he doesn't have to answer to anyone (other than the witches).

-Anyway, let's get to the shit you freaks are really here for. (Me, I'm freaks.)

-I don't really think sexual intimacy is something Shadow Milk desires all that much, but he more so likes it because it's... interesting? I'm sure he derives physical pleasure from sexual intercourse, but less so than the average cookie might. Most of his enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoy yourself.

-It goes without saying, but Shadow Milk Cookie is a freak. He's into pretty much anything under the sun (except maybe one thing...), and so long as you're down to try something he's happy to oblige you.

-He is a switch, but he leans dom most of the time, and you won't get him to sub early on in your relationship. That requires a bit too much trust for him, so he'll need time to be cool with giving you that kind of control over him. But he will bottom for you as your relationship progresses, and that's a whole different side to him.

-Lets start with him in a dominant role, though, since it's more common to get from him.

-Obviously, he's a tease, through and through. He loves to watch you squirm and react to the things he does. Tantalizingly light touches drawn over your dough, teeth grazing your soft body almost piercing but never quite getting deep enough, heated breath blown over your most sensitive spots but never relieving you with his mouth as you so desperately need.

-Truthfully he could spend another thousand years just tracing over you, committing each inch to memory until he's satisfied in knowing every inch of you. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), he's not nearly as patient in the bedroom as he is outside of it. Not with all of you on display for him, so trusting and open, ready for him to defile you. Oh, his sweet, sweet little dolly~

-Even with his impatience, his teasing does not stop. His hands continue to ghost over you, making sure you're still squirming even as he succumbs to his need to taste you.

-Oh, and tastes you he does. He doesn't have to subscribe to regular cookie physical limitations, so he somehow manages to swallow you whole. Jaw unhinging so he can get as much as he needs from you, tongue splitting itself to give you attention everywhere, and god is it long and dexterous. He can reach so very deep and it moves with such precision, it makes you cum embarrassingly fast.

-That is if he allows you to cum in the first place. He's a big fan of edging, which shouldn't be a surprise. He likes to get you so close, then deny you of your pleasure. Your whining and grumbling is the cutest thing on all of earthbread, don't you know? He can't help but edge you when you're so damn cute every time.

-Your pleasure is in his hands, and it requires such relinquishing of power and trust. In a weird way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when you thank him over and over once he finally allows you to come undone after hours of teasing.

-Speaking of, he is a big fan of being praised for the work he does on you. Your moans and pleas are reward enough, but if you mumble out about how good you feel, how much you love him, how amazing he is he'll become drunk on your praise. Chasing after it with fervor, meaning he's going down on you with so much more excitement somehow.

-He's into blood (jam?) play. He likes leaving physical reminders of your relationship all over your body (yes, even ur vag/dick if you let him). With how sharp his teeth are, it's impossible for you not to bleed when he does so, and he does really like the sight of your jam. It's so pretty and so different from his own, another reminder of how different you are, and how much you trust him. (He'll lick it up and purr at the taste.)

-Bruises are also littered about your dough, his grip on you is tight, like you might slip away from him. The treatment is rough and harsh, but it feels so nice to be manhandled by him. The bruises are just nice little reminders of who you belong to. (He gets all proud when other cookies worry about them, like he's done something worthy of praise).

-He likes watching, he's very much a voyeur. Occasionally requests that you pleasure yourself for him so he can watch you struggle to get off, and he'll only help you out when you're near tears begging him.

-He prefers coming across you by himself, without having to request it. Or just feeling waves of pleasure through your bite. He'll watch you quietly fuck yourself without letting you know he's there. (Though, you most certainly can feel his eyes on you, that's what makes it so fun right?) Sometimes he'll join you after, and other and times he'll leave you be, it's 50/50 either way and regardless you still end up happy.

-If anyone else walks in on you when you're alone, he's very unpleasant. Accident or not they'll learn to be more aware of their surroundings next time.

-That doesn't mean he's against being watched though. Actually, he finds the idea of someone else seeing how well he treats you enticing (especially if it's someone like Pure Vanilla hehe). If you are together and someone walks in (or spots you in public), he won't stop. Instead, he'll lock eyes with them and smile big and wide, showing off his favorite little dolly for them.

-He's just so proud of you, and you're so very pretty beneath him, the whole world should get to see how you fall apart for him. He'll even make you look at them just to see how you fluster.

-If the offender tries to do anything other than watch, though, well... I really hope they didn't want to live for much longer. He's very much not a sharer, at all. The idea of anyone even thinking they could touch you and make you feel good both makes him laugh and want to tear them apart at once.

-He's very much into roleplaying and can get really into it. To the point, it loses the sexiness and is just the two of you playing around, which can be a bummer but is usually really fun. He likes things that lean into power dynamics but explicitly avoids god/king and worshipper/subject. A little too close to home for him, and would honestly be too boring and basic for him.

-He loves it when you dress up for him in pretty little outfits, be it lingerie or something more cutesy, he adores it regardless. Going out of your way to pretty up for him is a huge turn-on. He also loves it when you let him dress you up how he likes. Regardless of what you're wearing, it's not coming off the whole night. It will get ruined and he won't apologize for it. Besides, he can just replace it, right?

-Sex is more fun for him, but he can be intimate when he wants to be. Usually, when you're in control, he is at his most gentle. Yes, he's a brat when he bottoms and he'll fight you tooth and nail, but once you get him to submit he's the softest and sweetest you've ever seen him.

-He looks at you like you're the god, wide eyes taking in everything you do with such admiration it might make you crumble on the spot.

-He's much quieter, treating it less like a spectacle. Moans soft and squeaky, like he's not used to using his voice in such a way. He clings to you like a vice at each little movement, almost afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

-Oh, and he praises you so much. 'So good', 'Thank you', 'You're perfect', and 'I love you' all tumble from him with such genuine gratitude.

-Being allowed to let his guard down and have you take control is cathartic for him, which is why it's so uncommon to have it happen. It's why he fights you for control so hard because this is an intimacy he isn't used to. It is hard for him to allow you to see him so weak, but you never use it against him. You're so very sweet and loving, and it makes him melt like butter in your grasp.

-If you have the bite I mentioned earlier, it only makes things so much more intense. Both of you can feel the raw emotion connecting the two of you, making the pleasure heighten further.

-In fact, when he gives you the bite it's the first time he allows you to top him. To connect you to him makes him very vulnerable, so he would naturally have to be in a vulnerable state already when he does so.

-It's unlike any of his other bites, it's far more painful when he initially bites down, but when his magic flows through it your body feels light and airy. The pleasurable feeling wrapping itself around your spine, and you feel what he's feeling. All that adoration pours into your being at once, and it's overwhelming to really feel how much he loves you.

#bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #shadow milk crk #crk #cr kingdom #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie crk #put me down bro

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sturniqlo · 6 months ago

Text

COMFORT- SHY!MATT x SHY!READER

summary- matt loves how comfortable darling is around him, it turns him on at certain times (matt being a whole different person in bed.. yum)

cw: SMUT; dom(ish)!matt, p in v, making out, nipple play, oral!f receiving, creampie, FLUFF

an: thank you to this anon (also, this is my first ever shy!matt x darling smut fic, p.s i know the pajama bottoms are actually shorts but pretend they're underwear)

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

------------------------------------------------

it was that point in their relationship where darling was getting very comfortable around matt-and vice versa-, not that she wasn't ever comfortable around him, just comfortable in a different light. she started doing things around him that she would only do when she was alone. one of those things is walk around in her underwear or bra.

"i'm gonna shower really quick." she said with her clothes and towel in hand. "okay, i'll be here." matt smiles as he sits against her headboard her fluffy blanket over his lap. matt being matt, puckers his lips signaling he wants a kiss. darling doesn't think anything of it, in all honestly she loves when he does that, it's become normal for them.

she even catches herself doing it sometimes. "mwah!" she intentionally says as she plants a kiss onto his lips, she can still taste the faint sherbet ice cream they shared. "don't take long, i'll miss you." he teases, squeezing her hip gently. "i'll try not to." she pecks his lips this time before making her way to the bathroom out in the hall.

as matt waited for her, scrolling through her streaming services on her tv, he got up and went down to the kitchen to get a snack. darling's parents were currently out on a camping trip since it was their anniversary weekend. with their permission, matt was able to come and stay over. they trusted matt and darling as they were once young and in love.

he opened the fridge grabbing two cold water bottles as he noticed her water bottle was almost empty. placing both of them on the island counter, matt opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. he saw the half eaten tray of her dad's strawberry danish and held back from grabbing a piece. her dad was serious about his danishes.

opting for some chips and a bit of chocolate chip cookies, he made his way back upstairs into her bedroom. as matt passed the bathroom, he heard the running water and her slight humming to the song she played on low volume.

matt returned back to the room and dug into the snacks he had brought up. still continuing to scroll through the streaming services, he didn't choose anything because he wanted to wait for darling and see what she would want to watch.

he looked around her room noticing small details that she had added. a new sonny angel hipper was added to the back of her flatscreen tv, the calendar matt had gifted her with pictures of them was hung up on her closet door, and a new pair of shoes was added to her shoe rack. he noticed every little detail.

it was about fifteen minutes later when darling walked through the door, her hair up in her designated hair towel. when matt realized what she was wearing, his breath hitched. she wore a white teddy bear tank paired with matching teddy bear boxer like underwear.

she had just started doing this around matt, walking around in her underwear. he cleared his throat as he caught himself watching her as she went into her closet to put her dirty clothes into her hamper. "find something to watch?" she said in a soft tone as she sat in her vanity across the room, watching him through the mirror as she combed her hair. "huh- oh- uh, no. i was uh- i was waiting for you. see what you wanted to watch."

she didn't realize his now worked up state. "you can put modern family back on." darling did her skincare, and lathered herself in her sweet scented lotion that drove matt crazy. he went to hulu to put the show, but he kept glancing back at darling who stood up to lather her legs.

the ends of her underwear rode up slightly and exposed the bottom of her ass cheeks. "shit." he muttered under his breath, shifting in the bed putting the blanket back over his lap. darling came closer to the bed and smiled at matt. "i feel so clean." she giggled, sitting on top of the blanket. "baby, are you not hot?" her dad had cranked up the heater before he left and it was really warm in the house.

"no- no, not really." he nervously chuckled, her scent engulfed his sense of smell. he looked down to play with his fingers, but caught eye of her plump thighs. "well i am. it's like ninety degrees in here." she fanned her tank top. matt stared at her and noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra either.

they were a couple of episodes in and darling ended up laying on her belly towards the end of the bed, which was the worst decision in matt's eyes. the curve of her ass was taunting him. the way it jiggled when she laughed or made a slight movement to get comfy, and the way her underwear rode up more.

darling didn't do it intentionally, in all honesty the thought of matt being worked up didn't cross her mind. she soon sat up and scooted to matt. "i'm bored." she told him, kneeling next to him running a hand through his hair. "what do you wanna do?" he said, his eyes raking up to her eyes and down to her lips.

"are you sure you're okay? you look pretty flustered." she furrows her eyebrows. "baby-" she gasped. "are you.. hard?" he groaned. "darling.. you're- you just look so good." she blushed at his words. "why didn't you tell me? i could've helped you all this time." she moved the blanket off of him and straddled his lap. matt was never one to just ask for sex- he was too shy to do so, he would give her little touches here and there or just stare at her.

"you know why." his hands came to rest on the silver of her skin where her tank top rode up. her hips slowly rolled against his. "baby." his threw his head slightly back. darling took the opportunity to kiss against his neck. matt got hold of her chin and connected their lips in a hungry kiss. "such a tease, hm? wearing your tiny panties around me." his finger dipped into the waistband of her underwear and let it slap against her skin. "mmph!" she whined against his lips.

"can i?" he pulled away from her, their lips red and swollen, his hands slipped under her tank top, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "please- yes." she nodded- she was now as equally as needy as him. matt wasted no time in taking her shirt off. her full, round tits on display for him. "so pretty, darling. so fucking pretty." he growled, taking her right tit into his mouth. his wet, pink tongue swirled around her nipple as he stared up at her, her eyes closed in pleasure.

"matt, oh- shit." her back arched, furthering herself more into matt. "love your tits, babe." he popped off of her nipple, moving onto the left one as his hand came up to knead the one he had in his mouth before.

after some time, he began to trail kisses around her chest up to her collarbone, up her neck eventually making it back to her lips. "lay on the bed f'me. c'mon." he patted the side of her thigh. darling came off of his thigh and laid next to him. matt hovered over her, pressing a few kisses to her neck. his kisses trailed down her body until he reached the hem of her underwear. "matt- please." she looked down at him.

"patience, darling." matt continued to press teasing kisses along her underwear. a wet patch began to form on her panties. "wet already?" he smirked, his finger prodding at the patch. "mhm- so wet for you." she rolled her hips wanting more. after pressing a kiss to her wetness, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled them down. "lift up f'me." she lifted her hips so he'd be able to pull them down her legs.

he tossed the underwater somewhere on the bed, putting her legs over his shoulders. "look at that. pussys so pretty." matt was face to face with her glistening folds that we're aching to be touched. darling shivered when his breath fanned against her wetness.

pressing kisses along her inner thighs, so very close to her core, matt licked and nipped until she was a squirming wanted to be licked where she needed it most. "please, stop- stop teasing." she whined, gripped his hair to try and guide him to her pussy. "am i being mean, hm?" his tongue made very small contact, but quickly pulled away.

matt thought he had teased enough and dipped his tongue into her hole, licking a stripe up to her clit. "oh- yes!" she smiled at the feeling of his warm tongue on her. "so good, darling. taste so good." he lapped up her arousal. sucking on her lips, her back arched at the sensation- the suction around her lips and the vibrations of his muffled moans.

"just like that- fuck!" her hands fisted at the bed sheets as she didn't want to hurt matt's scalp. darlings moans and pants filled the room, her constant whines when matt would pull away for a split second. matt's hands trailed up her body as she continued to eat her out. his fingertips found her tits and he rolled her nipples in between his thumb and forefinger.

he soon pulled away due to the ache in his pants becoming too much. "baby, please let me- let me fuck you." he mumbled as he kissed up her body. he sucked a few marks onto her neck. darlings hands creeped into his hair. "mhm, yes. i want you in me." she whispered into his ear, his hips rolled against her. "yeah?" he bit down on her neck. "so bad, please." she held the sides of his face and stared at him. matt broke into a smug smile, leaning down to press their lips together.

as their lips and tongue clashed together, matt pulled down both his pants and underwear throwing them somewhere. he stroked his hard cock a couple of times, pulling away from the kiss. darling looked down to where his cock was and saw the red leaking tip, her pussy clenched around nothing. "ready f'me?" he said, slapping his dick against her clit. "yes, i'm ready." she nodded, biting her bottom lip.

matt lined his tip up with her wet hole and slowly pushed into her. darling moaned feeling the familiar stretch of matt's cock. "so tight." matt's jaw slacked at her warm walls squeezing him. once he bottomed out, he waited a few moments until she was ready for him to move.

"you can- you can move." she nodded, grabbing onto his shoulders. matt pushed out before thrusting back in making them both moan at the same time. "yes, just like that. faster, baby." darling whined. he accepted her wishes and picked up the speed.

the wet noises, along with their moans, now filled the air in her room. the occasional bang of the headboard against the wall was covered by the lewd noises. "feel you squeezing my cock, darling." he kissed just below her ear. "it's so good, matt. don't stop." her moans continued.

minutes later, matt pulled out causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. "matt- what- what are you doing." her glossy eyes looked up at him. "shh, it's okay, pretty." he pressed a kiss to her lips. "want you to flip over f'me. hands and knees, yeah?" matt knew that her being on all fours made it feel better and deeper for her. she nodded, her damp hair from her shower and the slight sweat made the baby hairs stick along her hairline.

matt got on his knees to give her space to flip over. once she was situated, matt got behind her and caressed the soft and plump skin of her ass. his hand grabbed his dick and ran it up and down her puffy, wet folds. "oh- matt." she arched her back as he circled his tip against her hole. matt didn't ram himself in, but he certainly didn't hold back. her high pitched moans and whimpers began again. only this time they were louder due to the new position and angle.

"f-fuck, you're so deep." she mumbled against the bed sheets. her once hands and knees position turned into her being face down ass up. "yeah? feel me so deep inside of your tummy, babe." his hands came to the side of her ass, holding her as he went in and out of her. "so fucking deep." she repeated.

darling felt the familiar pressure building up in her lower belly, so she began backing her ass into him. matt groaned when he realized what she was doing. "you close, hm?" he groaned, his right hand on her ass and the other on the back of her neck. "yes- yes, so close. don't stop." she cried, wanting her release.

"cum for me. cum all over my dick." matt began to do long, deep strokes. "shit- just like that." the movement in his thrusts brought her more to the edge. her fingers curled into the pillow as she mewled. "i'm- fuck, i'm cumming!" her legs trembled as she released. "that's it, baby. all over my dick, mhm." he thrusted a couple of more times before he felt the familiar sensation.

"babe- i'm close." he gently brought her up to where her back was pressed up against his chest. "cum in me. want all of it, plea- please." she cried, her hand coming behind his head as he nipped at her neck. "oh- shit." his cock twitched inside of her as he came. matt kept messily thrusting against her as he rode his high.

once she started to whine, he stopped as he knew that she had become sensitive. "it's okay, i've got you." he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. slowly and carefully he laid her back down, still staying inside of her. "is it okay if i pull out? need to clean you up." she nodded. slowly, he pulled out watching as his cum leaked out of her. matt held back a groan at the sight.

"i'll be back, gonna get some tissue."

when matt finished cleaning her up, they showered together. "baby, c'mere. wanna braid your hair." matt patted his lap. "really? think you got it?" she teased. "i definitely improved since last time." darling sat in between his legs as he worked with her hair. "so it's right over left- no, no. right over left." he muttered to himself.

although he had to restart a couple of times, he finally finished it. matt took a picture and showed her. "alright, what do you think of my masterpiece?" he handed her his phone and wrapped his arms around her waist bringing her into his chest. "it's definitely something, i'll tell you that." she giggled. some parts were pretty loose and in some her hair was sticking out. "hey, i thought i did pretty good." he pouted, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"just gotta keep on practicing." she turned around and booped his nose.

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cherrybr4t · 5 months ago

Text

say it — choi seungcheol

ABOUT.

you’re back from college, and seungcheol starts to realise you’re no longer the bratty little 18 year old anymore — and has trouble accepting that he’s not protective of you just because he thinks of himself as an ‘older brother figure’ in your life.

PAIRING.

seungcheol x reader (fem)

TAGS/WARNINGS.

rich!seungcheol and rich!reader, age gap (cheol is older by 6 years), childhood friend! cheol, smut with plot, mentions of older brother mingyu (reader), cheol suffers from jealousy! denial! possessiveness! friends to lovers au <3 one-sided pining!

ׂ╰┈➤ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS. ⭐️

rich!seungcheol and rich!reader, older brother mingyu, wonwoo x reader, age gap, alcohol consumption, cheol may seem slightly controlling 😕 not much gg on yet BUT! slow tension building!

ׂ╰┈➤ series masterlist

i. red lips and red wine

Bottles of dom perignon, check. Smell of butter cookies wafting through the hallways, check. Dad nitpicking the spread prepared by the chef? Check. That about kicks start Christmas in your household.

The annual christmas party held by your family was not to be missed, especially since you’re back home this year and immediately took an interest in making sure it would be the best damn Christmas party anyone will ever step foot in.

You woke up in the wee hours — with your Prada monolith boots snug on your feet, along with your favourite puffer jacket, and headed out to complete your errands — getting new christmas lights, more cedar wood scented candles, as well as some decorative poinsettias your mom loves to have around.

When evening came rolling around, the party was in full swing. Gold garlands complementing the bright red poinsettias, and the food spread — done to perfection, all thanks to your housekeeper who’d executed your vision down to a T.

You strutted down the stairs with your vintage dior dress — red, silk, flowy edges that stopped near your knees. Paired with gold jewellery that you were still busy clasping on as you walked out of your room, only to bump into your older brother, already grinning down at you.

“Hey munchkin, late as usual?” Mingyu reached out to adjust pieces of hair falling in front of your face, knowing how you liked your up-do neat. Offering a lopsided grin to your brother, you shrugged.

“You already know it, plus I was busy appeasing mom about the absence of her favourite — the 1982 chateau. Swear it’s impossible to find this time of the year,” you huffed.

Chuckling, Mingyu held up his elbows for you to interlock your arms with as you both made your way down to the party.

“Cheol! Jae!” Mingyu’s excitement coursed through him way too quick — tossing away your arm tugging onto him in a flash. Rolling your eyes, you let your eyelashes flutter on your eyelids before settling your gaze upon the men in front of you.

Your family and the Choi’s go way back. The bridging of the Kim’s and the Choi’s started when both your grandparents were neighbours — and when you four came along; seungcheol, seungjae, mingyu and you, you four were inseparable. Be it playing outside your yards, pulling shenanigans at the Choi’s basement or wherever.

You’ve just recently returned home from college, and it has been quite some time since you’ve met the Choi’s. Adulthood and what not. Looking at the pair in front of you, your eyes took one scan over Cheol.

He was still the same effortlessly handsome fella, though he seemed to be sporting a different hair colour, and no longer with an undercut as you’ve last remembered him in. He’s gotten more buff, the shape of his built emphasized with the dark blue cashmere sweater he was clad in.

Still a sight for sore eyes.

You can’t help the smile creeping on the corner of your lips and teetering on the edges of your tightlined eyes. It was like the 19 year old in you reigniting that intense infatuation you had for your neighbour.

His familiar dark eyes darted over to you, before greeting Mingyu in a warm hug. Letting Mingyu catch up with Jae, he makes a beeline towards you, clutching the bag on his hand tightly.

“Merry Christmas,”

His woody scent mixed with a hint of citrus hits you in the face, and you were immediately transported back to how obsessed you were with this particular scent of his as a teenager — you would sneak over to take naps in his room constantly, to be engulfed in his scent and warmth through his sheets.

Your heart palpitates at the familiar scent. It’s been years since you were a teenager harboring a hopeless crush, and you sure did not want to spiral back to that state. You self soothed, mentally berating yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Cheol. It’s been a while, time seems to be treating you well,” you tilt your head as you take in his appearance in his face, as if you weren’t already checking him out before he came over to you.

His lips twitched into a smile, "Always with a biting comment,"

The secret is to always remain calm, cool, collected. Nonchalant. It’s what the 23 year old you picked up from years of being amongst the worst of the worst — college boys.

You know Seungcheol isn’t comparable to them. They could never. And — he’s…him. The guy who would willingly let himself get dragged along for boxing classes, just because you needed a reason to impress your high school crush.

He was your solace, your comfort — and you’re not sure why you’re feeling the need to place an invisible boundary with him right now. Could be the years of distance, perhaps.

His lips spread out in a wide grin, shaking his head as he hands over the bag, containing — “a 1982 chateau? How did you…” your jaw slacked as you looked at the bottle inside. This kiss ass. No wonder he was always your mom’s favourite.

“I never divulge my secrets,”

You couldn't even formulate a reply as your mom — with some sort of telepathic tingle, ran over to greet Cheol with a warm hug, slightly tipsy from the few glasses of Dom Perignon already.

“Seungcheol! It’s so good to see you — is that a bottle of my favourite 1982? You’re always the sweetest, Cheol,” your mom cooed, patting his arm before engaging in light conversation with him.

You took the bottle with you and headed to the kitchen, placing it down with the other bottles of liquor, wine lined up along the counter.

You could use the silence to let the heat trickling up your neck subside.

“Running away so fast?”

Cheol leans against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms — allowing his arms to bulge through that sweater of his. Peeling your eyes away, you give him a cheeky grin.

“Never,” you took a decorated glass and poured some bubbly for him, “just had to make sure all of my guests are properly hydrated.”

Taking a sip, he hums in appreciation before shooting you a glance again. “So, congrats on graduating with first class honors, heard you’re back for good? Looking for a job here?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Hmm, yeah for now, applied for a few writing jobs here and there,” you fidget slightly under his gaze, before deciding to pour a glass for yourself.

“Writing? Didn’t you graduate with a bachelor’s in...Economics?” he stares fixedly, a slight frown displayed, skeptical.

“Yeah, and?"

"And...may I ask which love interest has you applying for writing jobs?" He starts to look around, observing other bottles laid out on the counter.

You roll your eyes, lightly smacking your forehead with your palm.

"Writing as in you know — journalism, relating to the financial markets, or anything about politics, I guess, but really — I'm open to whatever,” you shrugged.

”I hope you know what you’re doing, I know how you are,” he clears his throat.

”What’s that supposed to mean?” You cut him off, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I just mean, you’re 23 now, you can’t necessarily go through jobs like you’re picking out a new hobby, or switching love interests. Remember when you made me pick up — let me think, the drums, cross stitching, boxing,"

“Hey, you enjoyed doing those with me!” you throw him a glare, “plus without me, you wouldn’t have found your love for jiu jitsu classes…”

"May I remind you that your hobbies or interests all line up with whichever love interest you're trying to impress,"

He raises his eyebrows before downing the rest of the sparkly in the bow tied glass.

You rolled your eyes for the nth time, “I’m 23 now, and I'm no longer the little girl you knew before okay? I’ve grown.” With an inward cringe at yourself, you only hope he sees how serious you are. With an amused look behind his eyes, he lets out a tiny chuckle, “We’ll see about that,"

"But, congratulations anyhow, and, it is good to have you back," Cheol clinks his glass with yours before downing his drink while maintaining eye contact.

Seungcheol, in fact, knows you are definitely not the same 19 year old he knew. Well, at least you did not look like it anymore. He berates himself silently for letting his eyes linger a little too long at how well the dress sits on you.

You’ve also apparently opted for switching to red lips paired with bolder eye makeup. You no longer looked like the girl who would pester him every day, calling him for a ride home from a house party at 3 in the morning. Which always resulted in him nagging the whole ride back home — and you falling asleep mid-way, giving in to your migraine.

Seungcheol’s been around for almost your whole life. He was 6 when he sat around at your baby shower, 16 when he had to babysit you and your brother, 21 when you had your first crush, 24 when you cried to him about your first heartbreak.

26 when you told him you were leaving for college.

He was a busy man even then, having started working at his dad’s company. Was busy chasing the validation and status required for him to step up and take over one day. As much as the role came naturally to him, dealing with the sudden spotlight on him was another issue.

Over the years, Mingyu always kept in close contact with him despite being in college, and was a dependable friend to him consistently.

You, on the other hand, had slowly started to disappear. All he could count on for verification you were alive were your instagram stories filled with flashing lights in the club and weekly calls with your family — shaking his head in a very older brother fashion when he sees what you’re up to on a saturday night.

Daily texts had started to fade to weekly, monthly and then once in a blue moon. Not that seungcheol was too bothered by it though, he had his own fair share of worries and responsibilities piling up.

4 years of college done, and you had set off for a year-long break travelling with friends, before deciding it was time to head home and get a job.

And here you were, chatting and mingling around looking like you no longer needed to have seungcheol by your side at such gatherings — no longer seeking solace in his presence when guests were enervating.

Bittersweet, he concludes before he realises he’s been eyeing you for almost the whole night.

“Parties getting too draining for you?” Mingyu chuckles, playing around with the wine in his glass.

“Still getting drunk with 3 glasses of wine?”

“Now that’s low — those days are behind me,” a hiccup cuts Mingyu off, and he starts giggling while Seungcheol smirks knowingly, shaking his head.

“You still get your ass embarrassingly drunk, what do you mean,” seungcheol shoots and he scores as mingyu snapped his head towards him, glaring playfully before challenging him to a drink-off right then and there.

“Not with the alcohol here — it’d be a waste to chug these,”

“Just say you’re scared, you old fuck,” Mingyu’s devilish smile makes way and seungcheol gives him a tight smack on his shoulders — Mingyu grimaces, rubbing the spot with a slight pout.

“And to think that we’re all grown adults now — but some things never change huh,” you appear at sight with arms crossed, a teasing smile on your red lips.

“You’re talking a little too big for someone who’s just entered the real adult world,” Mingyu walks up to you, flicking your forehead before downing the rest of his wine.

You gasp, “I expected more from you gyu” you scurried over to cheol’s side, clinging onto his arm and he notices how you’ve grown slightly taller over the past few years.

“Yeah yeah, go ahead and gang up on me again — we all know cheol prefers me,” Mingyu clicks his tongue before heading towards the kitchen for a refill.

“I’m guessing you’ve already heard about Jeonghan's wedding?” He cuts the thick air, ever so suavely leaning against the wall. You’ve always hated his nonchalance. Airiness. Made you feel insignificant when it came to the brain map of Choi Seungcheol.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Though, he did give a pretty lame excuse for missing this party,” you snickered.

“Give him a break, he’ll need a month beforehand to charge his energy before his wedding,” you chuckled, and before you could even formulate a reply, a loud crash from the kitchen interrupts and catches everyone’s attention.

Mingyu runs out with a sheepish look — cheeks red eyes crinkly — “oops,”

When seungcheol sees you at Jeonghan’s wedding the following week, the last thing he expected was to see you hand in hand with a plus one, sashaying around the grand hall.

His brain goes into autowire, immediately scrutinising said man under his watchful gaze. You had a track record of always canoodling with guys who only left you with sore eyes and a broken heart — it’s only natural for him to be on guard.

He takes no longer than 10 seconds to decipher that he’s no good for you. Blames it on brotherly instincts. He struts over to your direction, staring fixedly before you wave enthusiastically at him, pulling your date over to him.

"Cheol! Cheollie, c'mere, this is Wonwoo. And Wonwoo, this is Seungcheol," he sees you pursing your lips, fidgeting while standing between them.

"Hi," Cheol stares him down, but the formally trained business man in him reaches out a hand towards the tall man sleeked out in an all-black suit.

"I'm," he clears his throat before glancing over at you, "somewhat like an older brother, except her real brother is probably at the bar right now," and he sees you do a half eye roll, clearly amused by the situation.

"Nice to finally meet you, I've heard a lot about you," Wonwoo offers a tight smile, and Cheol feels slightly impressed by the tight grip Wonwoo had while shaking hands.

And then he thinks, if this man has heard about him, how close exactly are you with this tall and sleek man? But at this point, the you that's always been wearing their emotions on their sleeve starts to feel inscrutable, even to Cheol.

Your small talk gets interrupted by an announcement, ushering all guests to be seated in the main dining hall. You make your separate ways, only to realise that to no one's surprise, Jeonghan placed you with Cheol, Jae and Mingyu in the seating arrangement.

Looking at the name cards placed prettily across the table, you glanced at Cheol who was already settling down beside Mingyu.

Letting out an inward sigh, you shake away thoughts of how absolutely dashing Cheol looked tonight in his suit and tie. Instead, diverting your focus to the glass of red wine placed in front of you.

"For you, miss red wine and red lips,"

Your eyes scrunched up, "You already know me so well Wonwoo."

"Of course, will never forget how stunning you were when I first saw you across the bar weeks ago," he smiles, "sipping on that red wine with that dangerous red lip of yours," he chuckles, whispering that last bit, holding up a glass of red of his own.

Right. That was how he came about to be your date today.

You've met him at the airport lounge, coincidentally, both finding solace in the selection of red at the lounge bar. What were the chances that you were both catching the same flight, and heading home too.

You would never miss a chance to sit with a man like Wonwoo, and he proved worthy of your time when conversations flowed naturally with a spark of tension from time to time.

Cheol overhears bits of your exchange across the table, mind working in overtime as he pieces the information together. Thinks of it as protective instincts he can't seem to shake off even after all these years.

"So, Wonwoo, tell us — what're you currently doing?" Cheol props his elbow up on the satin lined round table, raising his eyebrows towards Wonwoo.

You shot him a look across the table, but Wonwoo just chuckles calmly, squeezing your arm lightly under the table after noticing your slight distress.

"I'm a co-director in a small start up company. We focus on programming and designing games — our current focus is on MOBA games," He clears his throat, "I was returning from a research work trip when I met y/n at the airport."

"Games?" Mingyu perks up, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"Yeah, well.. I'm a pretty big fan of gaming myself, which got me and two other friends to start up this company,"

Cheol nods, smirking a little as he starts to reminisce on how horrible you were at games — always being a pain in the neck to teach. He says nothing, and the conversation fizzles out to Mingyu and Wonwoo chatting about his trip while Cheol and you engage in a small staring contest while you sip on your wine.

What? You mouthed towards him. Nothing. He shakes his head and turns his attention to the emcee of the night who starts introducing the events that were going to unfold for the rest of the night.

You're about 10 drinks in when it reaches the open dance floor segment.

You've danced with about everyone you knew, and when the band starts opening up requests for songs, silly silly drunk you couldn't miss the chance to take over the microphone.

Wonwoo is laughing, enjoying your antics while Mingyu is shouting at you to get your ass back down.

It's 11pm, most guests were either retired to their rooms booked for the night at the hotel or mingling outside the grand hall. It was down to Jeonghan, his bride Minji, and remaining rascals who can't get enough of the free flow drinks and colourful lights.

Jeonghan slaps mingyu across the back, "Stop, let her have her fun. I missed the little gremlin and her singing,"

"You just want her to embarrass herself, don't kid anyone Jeonghan," Mingyu rolls his eyes as he rubs a palm across his forehead.

Cheol on the other hand, as much as he agrees with Jeonghan, knows you're going to regret every bit of this the next morning — if you're going to remember this at all. He stays seated, watching how things unfold and deciding to step in when it gets too much.

Wonwoo steps out to make a call, and you pout while blowing raspberries into the mic. "Boo, I haven't even started my set yet,"

"Oh God I can't watch this, Cheol, you handle her," Mingyu excuses himself from the scene, and Cheol nods, "Don't worry, I've got her,"

You giggle, "Cheollieeee, I knew you would stay. You always do," A hiccup ends your sentence, but you stay swaying and blushing while gripping onto the mic stand.

Jeonghan sends a look towards him at the table, "After all these years and she's still as attached to you, hmm,"

"Yeah well, I've always been the big older brother to both her and Mingyu," he shrugs, eyes crinkling with slight adoration as he looks at you starting the first verse of your favourite classic — like a virgin.

What a choice.

Things start to turn ugly when you're three songs in, and more guests filter out. Cheol notices the stage of intoxication you're at and decides it's time out for you.

"All right Madonna, no more. Let's go. You're going to bed," He struts towards the stage, and grabs the mic off your hands.

"Show's over ladies and gentlemen, goodnight."

"What? Hello?" You try to pry the mic away but the lead singer of the band seems to be on Cheol's side, in a hurry to pack up for the night.

Cheol grabs onto your shoulders firmly yet not too forceful, and guides you off the stage. Intertwining your hands, he pulls you towards the room's exit.

You try to make a fight for it, struggling against his hold.

"Let go of me!" You squeak out, trying to sound as assertive as you can.

Once you're at a secluded area of the grand hall, behind big pillars near the lift lobby, he turns around to face you.

"You, little miss, have had enough for the night."

"You're not the boss of me, not anymore." Your voice tunes down at the last part, suddenly feeling not as convicted as you were under his scrutinising gaze.

"You sure about that?"

You felt like you sobered up in that second, the moment he uttered those words in your face. Your vision cleared up as you looked at him in the eye, slight chills running down your exposed spine.

"Stop with this whole big brother act. Stop treating me like i'm 18 years old, i'm a fucking adult now," you maintained his gaze, crossing your arms to try to one-up him in an unspoken game of dominance.

"Hm. You want to be treated like an adult?" He speaks up after a beat of silence.

You fidget, eyes shifting as you start to feel a little warm. "Yes."

He takes a step closer, face inching nearer as you start to feel his breath on you, "Then act like one," he mutters with an edge of mischief on that otherwise serious face of his.

Damn. You puff out air, unwilling to lose this fight. You never do.

"Do you get off on acting like you're the boss of me or something?"

And you close your eyes, silently regretting those words the minute you uttered them.

"Excuse me?" Cheol quirks an eyebrow, scoffing with his tongue poking out of his cheek.

"You heard what I said,"

He shakes his head, and interlaces your fingers once again, dragging you to the lift lobby.

In the dark and cold elevator, you and him stand at complete opposite sides. In a moment of self reflection; you silently observe the patterns on the sleek marble wall, but when your eyes accidentally shift over to the man in front of you, you jump slightly when you notice he's already staring down at you — intense and unblinking.

He holds onto the elevator bars behind him, crossing his leg one over the other as his poor button on his shirt looks like it's about to give out. All while his hair seems to fall perfectly on his brows, and his gaze on you remains unwavering.

The flicker of emotion behind his stare was difficult to decipher, you felt exposed, and you weren't sure if it was the alcohol causing the heat trickling down your nape.

"W-what?" You rub your arms in cold mechanism, also subconsciously comforting yourself in this situation.

But the man opposite you says nothing, just continuing to burr holes into your face.

You roll your eyes, and continue to look elsewhere, this time focusing on the increasing numbers on the elevator screen propped on the top right corner.

"So, this wonwoo guy," Cheol decides to bring up what was stuck on the back of his mind the whole night.

"Crap! Wonwoo! Where is he? I just left without letting him know, wait where's my phone?" You jolt up, standing upright as you start to panic mildly.

"Calm down, Mingyu's gone over to tell him you're settling in for the night. And, your phone is with me," he pulls out the sleek device out of his pocket and you grab it eagerly.

"You like him quite a lot huh,"

You ignore his comment before releasing a small breath of relief when you saw the texts Wonwoo left you.

hey! heard from your brother you've went to settle in for the night.

sorry i was settling a work call earlier

hope you rest well tonight! remember to drink up lots of water, as i'm assuming you'll be reading this in the morning 🥰

"Bring him around for our weekly dinner, I think it'll be good to know him better," Cheol suggests, not willing to let go of the topic.

"Our weekly dinner is back?"

"It's never been gone, I'm closer to Mr and Mrs. Kim than I am to you at this point,"

You gasp, feigning annoyance but feeling glad that your parents had the Choi's around when you and Mingyu weren't around as much.

"I'll think about it," you shrug as you put your phone away.

"No, bring him around if you're planning to see him long term," he crosses his arms, and seems relentless.

You roll your eyes, and groan while leaning your head against the elevator.

"Fine. Fucking Controlling," you whisper the last part to yourself, and before Cheol can butt in with his wide-eyed anger, you groan again - alcohol giving you the extra liquid courage.

"And why is this god-damn elevator taking so long,"

Cheol reasons with himself. Doesn't want to pick up your broken pieces if you get your heart broken by Wonwoo. Doesn't want you to jump into another guy blindly without him assessing them. Thinks of it as his right as your older brother, sort of.

Yeah. He's just looking out for you. He thinks as he clenches his jaw slightly.

Definitely not because he wants to know what exactly about Wonwoo has gotten you so smitten.

ׂ╰┈➤ A/N: omg. i've finally posted the first chapter 😭 brain juices weren't flowing during the holidays but THANK YOU all for the love on the teaser (ish), and for waiting so patiently :( i swear i'll make it more juicy n +18 for the next few chapters 😱 just wna let things roll out a lil more for this one 😉

ׂ╰┈➤ like + reblog + comment if you've enjoyed it! all love <3

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