mim16s

[mim16s]

A boring afternoon takes an exciting turn when Bucky invites you on a special ride. Surrounded by nature, amidst kisses, desires, and fantasies, you give in to an intense passion by a hidden lakeside. A moment that marks your body and soul.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, fingering, motorcycle sex

Don't be ghost readers! You have no idea how much a single comment can brighten a writer's day.

You were lying in bed, supposedly watching some movie on TV. But the truth is that your eyes were just staring at the screen without absorbing anything; boredom was already taking over the room. Until the sudden glow of your phone broke the monotony.

“Hey, baby. There's a place I want to show you. Are you free?”

It was him. Your boyfriend. Just seeing his name on the notification made your heart race. You responded without hesitation:

“Yes, please. I'm dying of boredom.”

The reply came as quickly as your heartbeat.

“Twenty minutes and I'll be at your door. Wear something light.”

You almost jumped out of bed, ran to the shower, and within minutes, you were back in the room, wearing a short, light, delicate summer dress — subtly highlighting your curves with a gentle sweetness. Soon the doorbell rang. You grabbed your purse and opened the door. It was him.

— Hey, baby — said Bucky, with that irresistibly crooked smile, admiring you from head to toe. — You look stunning.

You responded with a sweet kiss, and even after your lips parted, his hand remained firmly on your waist.

— Where are you taking me? — you asked, looking into his eyes.

— I found an incredible place on my way to a mission... A field with a lake. I thought it would be perfect for spending an afternoon with my beautiful girl.

Your smile answered for you.

— Then let's go. I can't wait.

He carefully placed the helmet on you and got on the motorcycle. You held onto his waist, feeling the engine rumble beneath you. With every turn, every acceleration, you found yourself thinking how sexy he looked riding — tense muscles, focused gaze, mastery of the machine. He exuded power, and you just couldn't resist.

Upon arrival, you were breathless. The place was a hidden paradise, wildflowers spread across the field, a crystal-clear lake shimmering under the sun.

— It's beautiful, love — you whispered, enchanted by the scenery.

But he didn't take his eyes off you.

— Yeah, it’s really beautiful — he murmured, but clearly referring to you, not the field.

He laid a towel near the lake, not far from the motorcycle. He took some treats out of his backpack.

— You thought of everything... — you said, touched.

— Only the best for you — he replied, offering a strawberry, which you bit slowly.

You laid your head on his chest, exchanging kisses, laughter, and caresses while eating. Until you stood up, and he looked at you with a confused expression.

— Want to go for a swim? — you asked, pointing to the lake.

— Now? — he almost pouted, still wanting to stay close to you, you slightly laughed, finding it adorable.

— Just a little — you said, already sliding the dress off your body.

He froze. Your bra accentuated your breasts, and the lace panties hugged her curves. His arousal was instant.

— For you, love... always.

— If I had known that just taking my clothes off would make you obey me like this, I would’ve done it sooner — you teased, with a mischievous smile.

— I wouldn’t oppose — he replied, laughing, already taking off his shirt with hungry eyes on you.

In seconds, he was holding you in his arms, entering the lake. legs wrapped around your waist as his lips met yours once more. Deep, wet kisses full of desire. You played for a bit, swam, but soon you were back in his arms.

You pulled him closer, hands on his face, feeling his skin’s heat beneath the warm water.

— I’ve always dreamed of making love to you in a place like this — he murmured against your neck.

— Me too... Where I can scream your name loudly, without fear... Where I can show how well you fuck me — you whispered in his ear, making him moan just with your words.

— You drive me crazy...

He slid his hand under the water, inside your panties, finding your arousal effortlessly. He played with your clitoris while watching you with hungry eyes. You moaned loudly, his name escaping between sighs.

— Bucky... please...

His fingers entered you with firmness and precision. Each thrust made you twist. He knew you like no one else, knew exactly how to push you to the edge of the abyss.

— É isso, amor... deixa eu ouvir o quanto eu te faço sentir bem.

— I'm going to orgasm...

— Then come for me, baby...

The orgasm came like a wave, overwhelming. You fell apart in his arms, moaning loudly, your body trembling. He held you tight and got out of the water with you in his arms.

— What are you doing...? — You murmured, still breathless.

— You thought it would end here? I’m going to fulfill your dream... and fuck you right here.

words made you moan even more.

— If we’re talking about fulfilling dreams... why don’t you fuck me on your motorcycle? — The teasing came out as a mischievous whisper, loaded with desire. A wild smile appeared on his face, his eyes darkening.

— You know exactly how to get to me. — His hoarse voice vibrated like contained thunder. Without taking his eyes off you, he carried you to the motorcycle. — Let’s see how far your courage goes, baby. — He gently laid you on the seat, as if revering you even as he was about to destroy you. Sitting on the passenger seat, he didn’t waste time — aligned himself with your entrance, his eyes fixed on yours.

You were so wet, dripping with anticipation for him, for the secret fantasies now becoming real. When he started to sink into you, centimeter by centimeter, the world seemed to stop. Your body welcomed him with such eagerness, as if it had been molded exactly for this.

— Fuck… so perfect. You’re going to end me like this, baby. — He growled against your skin, gripping your waist firmly, his fingers marking territory. You knew those marks would stay and that you’d look at them with pride, remembering every second.

He buried himself completely, and you screamed, shamelessly. He was large, and every deep thrust made you lose your breath. He started slow, with a calculated rhythm, as if prolonging his pleasurable torture until he decided you could take more, and the pace changed. It was no longer slow — it was fierce. Each thrust seemed to reach your soul, drawing moans and pleas from your lips.

You had no doubt... you were being possessed as you had always dreamed — with the boldness of someone crazily desiring you, but also with the calm of someone wanting to savor every second. Bucky sank deep into you while holding you tighter, lifting one of your legs to his shoulder, going even deeper.

The motorcycle vibrated slightly beneath you, the hot leather contrasting with the cold breeze sweeping across the field, creating a contrast that made you even more sensitive.

— This pussy was made by the gods just for me. — He said between grunts, and all you could do was moan his name, as if it were a prayer.

His hips slapped yours with force and precision, his firm hand gripping your waist while the metal one explored your body, causing delicious shivers, discovering every inch as if rediscovering you. fingers dug into his arms when he hit that exact spot, the one that made your vision blur and your belly contract with anticipation.

— Look at this, love... see how well you take me. — Your eyes dropped to where your bodies connected, where he entered and withdrew from you, covered in your wetness.

— Bucky… Oh, Bucky… — your body trembled, your eyes rolling back from pleasure. He pulled you into his lap, reversing positions, and now it was you on top, but he still did most of the work, guiding your hips as if shaping your very downfall. The motorcycle trembled beneath you, but you cared little about anything but him.

You clung to his shoulders as if your life depended on it, pulling him even closer, even though you were already pressed together. He kissed you hungrily, as if wanting to possess your soul, and your moans mixed with his, echoing into the warm afternoon air.

— Okay, princess? Is it as good as you dreamed? — He asked, voice full of lust and tenderness, because even as he devoured you, he worshiped you.

— Y-yes... Oh, Bucky, yes… — you moaned, repeating the words like a sacred mantra, as if saying his name would keep you whole.

— Bucky... please, harder... — you begged, shamelessly, without filter, completely surrendered.

He obeyed. The thrusts grew more intense, their moans blending with the muffled sounds of nature around them. Their bodies collided in frantic harmony, hungry.

He leaned over you, his mouth finding your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin while whispering:

— Let’s try another position... what do you think? — He asked with a crooked smile, breathless, and you nodded urgently. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, still inside you, and dismounted from the motorcycle.

Only when he set you upright, feeling your trembling legs, did he step back. You whined at the loss, wanting him back.

— Relax, baby… — he whispered in your neck, kissing you before turning you around and placing your hands on the motorcycle, leaving you with your back to him.

You pushed your hips up, ready, surrendered. He lifted one of your legs and, with a single move, sank into you again. The thrusts now came rawer, faster, your bodies colliding with animalistic force. He moaned in your ear, saying how much he adored you, how perfect you were, and every word made you tighten around him even more.

You were on the verge of collapse, the second orgasm approaching with devastating force. He held you tight, expertly commanding your pleasure, pushing you to the edge multiple times.

— Bucky… I… I’m close… — you could barely form sentences.

— Come with me, love… — he said between uneven moans, and kept fucking you until you exploded together. Your body gave out the moment he came inside you, filling you completely. He held you before you collapsed, wrapping his arms around you with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of what you had just done.

— My God, love... this definitely won’t be the last time I fuck you on the motorcycle. — He kissed you with raw, real passion. A kiss that said everything words couldn’t.

[mim16s]

A boring afternoon takes an exciting turn when Bucky invites you on a special ride. Surrounded by nature, amidst kisses, desires, and fantasies, you give in to an intense passion by a hidden lakeside. A moment that marks your body and soul.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, fingering, motorcycle sex

Don't be ghost readers! You have no idea how much a single comment can brighten a writer's day.

You were lying in bed, supposedly watching some movie on TV. But the truth is that your eyes were just staring at the screen without absorbing anything; boredom was already taking over the room. Until the sudden glow of your phone broke the monotony.

“Hey, baby. There's a place I want to show you. Are you free?”

It was him. Your boyfriend. Just seeing his name on the notification made your heart race. You responded without hesitation:

“Yes, please. I'm dying of boredom.”

The reply came as quickly as your heartbeat.

“Twenty minutes and I'll be at your door. Wear something light.”

You almost jumped out of bed, ran to the shower, and within minutes, you were back in the room, wearing a short, light, delicate summer dress — subtly highlighting your curves with a gentle sweetness. Soon the doorbell rang. You grabbed your purse and opened the door. It was him.

— Hey, baby — said Bucky, with that irresistibly crooked smile, admiring you from head to toe. — You look stunning.

You responded with a sweet kiss, and even after your lips parted, his hand remained firmly on your waist.

— Where are you taking me? — you asked, looking into his eyes.

— I found an incredible place on my way to a mission... A field with a lake. I thought it would be perfect for spending an afternoon with my beautiful girl.

Your smile answered for you.

— Then let's go. I can't wait.

He carefully placed the helmet on you and got on the motorcycle. You held onto his waist, feeling the engine rumble beneath you. With every turn, every acceleration, you found yourself thinking how sexy he looked riding — tense muscles, focused gaze, mastery of the machine. He exuded power, and you just couldn't resist.

Upon arrival, you were breathless. The place was a hidden paradise, wildflowers spread across the field, a crystal-clear lake shimmering under the sun.

— It's beautiful, love — you whispered, enchanted by the scenery.

But he didn't take his eyes off you.

— Yeah, it’s really beautiful — he murmured, but clearly referring to you, not the field.

He laid a towel near the lake, not far from the motorcycle. He took some treats out of his backpack.

— You thought of everything... — you said, touched.

— Only the best for you — he replied, offering a strawberry, which you bit slowly.

You laid your head on his chest, exchanging kisses, laughter, and caresses while eating. Until you stood up, and he looked at you with a confused expression.

— Want to go for a swim? — you asked, pointing to the lake.

— Now? — he almost pouted, still wanting to stay close to you, you slightly laughed, finding it adorable.

— Just a little — you said, already sliding the dress off your body.

He froze. Your bra accentuated your breasts, and the lace panties hugged her curves. His arousal was instant.

— For you, love... always.

— If I had known that just taking my clothes off would make you obey me like this, I would’ve done it sooner — you teased, with a mischievous smile.

— I wouldn’t oppose — he replied, laughing, already taking off his shirt with hungry eyes on you.

In seconds, he was holding you in his arms, entering the lake. legs wrapped around your waist as his lips met yours once more. Deep, wet kisses full of desire. You played for a bit, swam, but soon you were back in his arms.

You pulled him closer, hands on his face, feeling his skin’s heat beneath the warm water.

— I’ve always dreamed of making love to you in a place like this — he murmured against your neck.

— Me too... Where I can scream your name loudly, without fear... Where I can show how well you fuck me — you whispered in his ear, making him moan just with your words.

— You drive me crazy...

He slid his hand under the water, inside your panties, finding your arousal effortlessly. He played with your clitoris while watching you with hungry eyes. You moaned loudly, his name escaping between sighs.

— Bucky... please...

His fingers entered you with firmness and precision. Each thrust made you twist. He knew you like no one else, knew exactly how to push you to the edge of the abyss.

— É isso, amor... deixa eu ouvir o quanto eu te faço sentir bem.

— I'm going to orgasm...

— Then come for me, baby...

The orgasm came like a wave, overwhelming. You fell apart in his arms, moaning loudly, your body trembling. He held you tight and got out of the water with you in his arms.

— What are you doing...? — You murmured, still breathless.

— You thought it would end here? I’m going to fulfill your dream... and fuck you right here.

words made you moan even more.

— If we’re talking about fulfilling dreams... why don’t you fuck me on your motorcycle? — The teasing came out as a mischievous whisper, loaded with desire. A wild smile appeared on his face, his eyes darkening.

— You know exactly how to get to me. — His hoarse voice vibrated like contained thunder. Without taking his eyes off you, he carried you to the motorcycle. — Let’s see how far your courage goes, baby. — He gently laid you on the seat, as if revering you even as he was about to destroy you. Sitting on the passenger seat, he didn’t waste time — aligned himself with your entrance, his eyes fixed on yours.

You were so wet, dripping with anticipation for him, for the secret fantasies now becoming real. When he started to sink into you, centimeter by centimeter, the world seemed to stop. Your body welcomed him with such eagerness, as if it had been molded exactly for this.

— Fuck… so perfect. You’re going to end me like this, baby. — He growled against your skin, gripping your waist firmly, his fingers marking territory. You knew those marks would stay and that you’d look at them with pride, remembering every second.

He buried himself completely, and you screamed, shamelessly. He was large, and every deep thrust made you lose your breath. He started slow, with a calculated rhythm, as if prolonging his pleasurable torture until he decided you could take more, and the pace changed. It was no longer slow — it was fierce. Each thrust seemed to reach your soul, drawing moans and pleas from your lips.

You had no doubt... you were being possessed as you had always dreamed — with the boldness of someone crazily desiring you, but also with the calm of someone wanting to savor every second. Bucky sank deep into you while holding you tighter, lifting one of your legs to his shoulder, going even deeper.

The motorcycle vibrated slightly beneath you, the hot leather contrasting with the cold breeze sweeping across the field, creating a contrast that made you even more sensitive.

— This pussy was made by the gods just for me. — He said between grunts, and all you could do was moan his name, as if it were a prayer.

His hips slapped yours with force and precision, his firm hand gripping your waist while the metal one explored your body, causing delicious shivers, discovering every inch as if rediscovering you. fingers dug into his arms when he hit that exact spot, the one that made your vision blur and your belly contract with anticipation.

— Look at this, love... see how well you take me. — Your eyes dropped to where your bodies connected, where he entered and withdrew from you, covered in your wetness.

— Bucky… Oh, Bucky… — your body trembled, your eyes rolling back from pleasure. He pulled you into his lap, reversing positions, and now it was you on top, but he still did most of the work, guiding your hips as if shaping your very downfall. The motorcycle trembled beneath you, but you cared little about anything but him.

You clung to his shoulders as if your life depended on it, pulling him even closer, even though you were already pressed together. He kissed you hungrily, as if wanting to possess your soul, and your moans mixed with his, echoing into the warm afternoon air.

— Okay, princess? Is it as good as you dreamed? — He asked, voice full of lust and tenderness, because even as he devoured you, he worshiped you.

— Y-yes... Oh, Bucky, yes… — you moaned, repeating the words like a sacred mantra, as if saying his name would keep you whole.

— Bucky... please, harder... — you begged, shamelessly, without filter, completely surrendered.

He obeyed. The thrusts grew more intense, their moans blending with the muffled sounds of nature around them. Their bodies collided in frantic harmony, hungry.

He leaned over you, his mouth finding your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin while whispering:

— Let’s try another position... what do you think? — He asked with a crooked smile, breathless, and you nodded urgently. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, still inside you, and dismounted from the motorcycle.

Only when he set you upright, feeling your trembling legs, did he step back. You whined at the loss, wanting him back.

— Relax, baby… — he whispered in your neck, kissing you before turning you around and placing your hands on the motorcycle, leaving you with your back to him.

You pushed your hips up, ready, surrendered. He lifted one of your legs and, with a single move, sank into you again. The thrusts now came rawer, faster, your bodies colliding with animalistic force. He moaned in your ear, saying how much he adored you, how perfect you were, and every word made you tighten around him even more.

You were on the verge of collapse, the second orgasm approaching with devastating force. He held you tight, expertly commanding your pleasure, pushing you to the edge multiple times.

— Bucky… I… I’m close… — you could barely form sentences.

— Come with me, love… — he said between uneven moans, and kept fucking you until you exploded together. Your body gave out the moment he came inside you, filling you completely. He held you before you collapsed, wrapping his arms around you with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of what you had just done.

— My God, love... this definitely won’t be the last time I fuck you on the motorcycle. — He kissed you with raw, real passion. A kiss that said everything words couldn’t.

[mim16s]

I have a bunch of story ideas, but after watching Thunderbolts, one in particular just screamed at me and it all started with that Bucky motorcycle scene. A little spoiler? It might leave your legs shaking. I’m posting it tomorrow night!

posted

[mim16s]

Materialist

One shot

Se-mi Squid game

Arcade

Bruce Wayne

Smut

Dangerous Woman - Siger!reader

Bucky Barnes

Motorcycle

Steve Rogers

Angst

Series

Cho Hyun-Ju- Squid Game

Survival in game

[mim16s]

I hate silent readers oh my gosh comment reblog tell me it’s shit tell me you love it idc JUST DONT BE SILENT PLEASE

[mim16s]

I rewatched Avengers: Endgame, and whenever I saw stories where Steve went back to Peggy, the reader never seemed truly upset or betrayed. And as the grudge-holder I am, I definitely wouldn’t forgive him, nor would I wish him happiness. So I decided to write how I would possibly react if it had happened to me.

Warning: Angst

—You’re really telling me you’re going to throw away everything we built? Damn it, Steve, it’s been four years! Four years together we’re engaged and you’re trading all of it for a ghost from the past?— Your voice came out broken, loaded with disbelief and pain.

—Y/N… you have to understand, I’m not from here.

—Not from here? —you repeated, laughing without humor, your heart in pieces. — And you’re just now telling me this? After four years of looking me in the eyes and telling me you loved me?

His stomach turned. He had loved you. Still did. But there was a weight in the past he’d never fully let go of.

—And I do love you! — he said, but to you it sounded like an empty promise.

—No, you don’t! — you shouted, your throat burning as tears threatened to fall. — cause if you did, if you truly did, you wouldn’t even consider going back to her! She shouldn’t even cross your mind if what you felt for me was real!

Steve clenched his fists, jaw tight. He was losing you, he knew it. And yet, something inside him still clung to the past, to the image of Peggy, to the “what ifs,” to the time he never got to live.

But then why did it hurt so damn much to see you cry? Why did it feel like he was making the biggest mistake of his life?

—You’re not making this easy…

—I’m not making this easy? — You let out a disbelieving, almost bitter laugh. — You come here, after everything we’ve been through, and drop this on me and i'm the one not making it easy? Steve, I stood by your side for years. I loved you, supported you, respected you, was there in every damn moment. And you seriously want to tell me I’m the problem?

—I’m sorry. I swear I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t even know going back was an option… but now that it is… I can’t let it go.

—No. I don’t forgive you. And I never will. You made me believe I’d found the love of my life. Made me bet everything on us… only to show me now that you never really let her go.

You saw Steve’s face twist with pain, but your eyes didn’t waver. You were too hurt. Too angry.

—It wasn’t a waste. I loved every year I had with you.

—Maybe not for you. But for me, it was. Because if you had just been honest from the beginning… if you had told me someone else still had your heart, I would’ve protected mine. I would’ve chosen a different path.

You turned your back, feeling the tears were seconds away from falling. And just as you took the first step, his voice stopped you one last time.

—I hope one day you’ll forgive me… and that you’ll be truly happy.

You stopped—but didn’t turn around.

—I can’t say the same. I won’t wish happiness on the one who broke me like this. On someone who shattered everything I felt with a single choice.

And then you walked away.

The tears fell silently, heavy and raw, while behind you, Steve stood frozen, watching you go. And only then, with the crushing weight of silence around him, did he wonder

Was he really making the right choice?

Did he still love Peggy that much… more than he loved you?

Or had he just lost the only person who ever made his heart beat again?

[mim16s]

I'm working on two ideas for an angst story with the same theme but different situations. I’d love to hear your opinion: which one would you like to see the most?

Maybe I’ll write both in the future, but for now, I’ll focus on the one that wins the poll!

The first one will probably be completed in 2 or 3 chapters:

Y/N is the newest agent in the BAU. Intelligent, dedicated, and with a keen eye, she quickly earns the team's respect — and the special attention of Spencer Reid. Little by little, the two develop a deep connection that silently turns into a quiet, trusting romance.

Everything is going well until a new case lands on the BAU's desk: the profile of a perpetrator who targets pregnant women. The case affects Y/N more than usual — she grows quiet, distant, withdrawn. Spencer, sensitive to change, insists on knowing what's going on. Pressured by memories and the trust she has built with him, Y/N decides to tell the truth.

Years ago, she was in what seemed to be a perfect relationship. She was engaged and, upon discovering she was pregnant, believed she was living her dream — she had always wanted to be a mother. But her fiancé didn’t share the same dream. Although he initially pretended to support her, he soon revealed his true nature by trying to convince her to terminate the pregnancy. When that failed, he became aggressive. What started as a single slap — something she tried to justify — escalated into planned violence. He tried to force an abortion by putting pills in her food. When she found out and ended the relationship, he couldn’t accept it. One night, he broke into her home and stabbed her in the stomach, in a cruel attempt to take the baby from her.

She survived. The baby didn’t.

Since then, doctors told her she might never be able to get pregnant again — and if she did, the chances of carrying a healthy pregnancy to term were minimal.

The tragedy shaped her path. Y/N became an agent to make sure no other woman would ever go through what she went through. And in this case, her past and present painfully collide.

Spencer listens in silence. And for the first time, Y/N allows herself to be vulnerable — not as a victim, but as a survivor. From that moment on, her bond with Spencer deepens, proving that even in the aftermath of trauma, love and new beginnings are still possible.

This one will be a one-shot:

Y/N has been in a stable relationship with Spencer Reid for two years. Intelligent, loving, and devoted, she knows she’s found someone completely different from what she experienced in the past. But when a simple pharmacy test changes her life, fear takes over.

She’s pregnant.

It’s not motherhood that scares her — it’s always been her biggest dream — but the past that still haunts her. She doesn’t know if her body will be able to carry the pregnancy. Worse: she fears that Spencer will reject her, that history will repeat itself. Consumed by trauma, Y/N decides to hide the pregnancy. A month goes by, filled with masked symptoms and subtle changes in her routine.

But she forgets who she’s dealing with.

Spencer, one of the FBI’s best profilers, doesn’t miss a thing. The mood swings, the emotional distance, the delicate movements, even physical changes — nothing escapes his trained eye. He doesn’t pressure her, but the doubt eats away at him: why would she hide something from him?

The answer comes by accident. A misplaced medical exam. A silent confirmation. And then, the inevitable confrontation.

Y/N doesn’t deny it. Instead, she cries. The barrier crumbles, and with it, the truth spills out: a year before she met Spencer, she was engaged. When she found out she was pregnant, she thought she was living a fairytale. Her fiancé pretended to support her at first but soon revealed his true self by trying to force her into an abortion. First with words. Then with pills hidden in her food. When she found out and ended things, he didn’t take it well. One night, he broke into her home and stabbed her in the stomach.

She survived. The baby didn’t.

Since then, doctors told her she might never get pregnant again. And if she did, carrying a healthy pregnancy would be extremely difficult. That’s why she was scared. That’s why she stayed silent.

Y/N confesses that she knows Spencer is different, that he would never hurt her. But trauma shouts louder than reason. And in that moment, she breaks down.

Spencer holds her tightly, without judgment. He tells her he’s there. That he wants this baby — not because he needs to, but because he wants to. Because he loves her. He loves the woman she is, and he loves the child they created together, a child born from a real, safe, and true love.

And for the first time since she saw the positive test, Y/N believes: maybe this time, she’s not alone.

If you want to be tagged when the story is released, comment that I will add you to the taglist.

[mim16s]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[mim16s]

Dangerous woman

Bruce Wayne x Singer!Reader

Bruce Wayne hated being there. An upscale bar, dull conversation, and sycophantic partners — all part of the PR package he loathed. But then she stepped onto the stage. Hypnotic, confident, with a voice that felt more like a spell. He didn’t know her, but the moment their eyes met, he knew he couldn’t leave without truly getting to know her.

I was thinking about making this story a trilogy, since I have some cool ideas for it. Let’s see how it performs, if you guys like it, I will continue!

English isn't my first language, so there might be some spelling mistakes.

He hated being there. Damn it, he had practically been forced to join that thing under the excuse that it was "good for business." They said the closer he was to the partners, the better it would be for Wayne Enterprises. So, they arranged to meet at an expensive Gotham bar — the kind of place only the elite frequented. But everything was so unbearably boring that he genuinely considered leaving and to hell with business.

–Have you guys seen who’s performing tonight? – one of them asked, twirling a ridiculously expensive drink in his hand with a crooked smile.

–Y/N– He added, his grin widening in a lewd way.

–Dude, she’s hot. They say her voice is like a siren’s.

— I’ve seen her sing, I can confirm. She’s hypnotizing- said another.– I got hard just watching her — the voice, the body, the face... she’s a goddess. I’d pay a fortune for one night with her.

Bruce paid more attention now, despite hating the way they spoke about her like she was an object. Still, he was curious

–And you, Mr. Wayne, have you ever seen her? – one of the partners asked.

–No – he answered dryly.

– Well, tonight you’re about to find out what paradise is like.

Bruce shrugged, detached from the disgusting conversation still going on around him. He simply sipped his drink, silently wishing time would speed up and bring the socially acceptable moment for him to get up and disappear through the door.

That was when the sound of a microphone being turned on caught his attention. Some people stood and excitedly moved closer to the stage.

–Good evening, everyone, our star of the night is ready for another show- someone announced enthusiastically.

Applause and whistles echoed through the room, and then she appeared. Bruce saw her step out from behind the curtain with a captivating smile and elegant waves. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

He had never seen someone so mesmerizing. Her curls fell over her shoulders, framing her face like something hand-drawn. Her makeup highlighted each feature perfectly, and the red lipstick made her lips look like a forbidden invitation. The dress hugged her curves precisely, and the heels added a touch of sensuality to each step. It was impossible to look at you and not think: how could a woman be this divine?

–Hello, everyone. I hope you're excited for the show.– Your voice filled the room, sweet and firm, prompting more applause and cheers.

Bruce’s heart picked up speed.

–What do you say we sing together?– you asked, smiling as you held the mic tighter.

The instrumental began, and the moment your voice filled the air, Bruce was certain: he could spend the rest of his life listening to you sing and never get tired.

Don’t need permission

Made my decision to test my limits

Cause it’s my business

God as my witness, start what I finished

Don’t need no hold up

You sang, and everyone’s attention was on you, but it didn’t seem to faze you. Your voice flowed sweet and powerful. The stage felt like your home — you moved and interacted with the crowd and the band with such ease. He couldn’t help but admire it — your confidence, his eyes locked on you.

Taking control of this kind of moment

I’m locked and loaded

Completely focused, my mind is open

Bruce felt his heart race. Your voice... it was a spell he didn’t want to resist. He practically wished to fall under your enchantment.

All that you got, skin to skin

Oh, my God, don’t you stop, boy

Without realizing, his feet moved, ignoring the men calling after him asking where he was going. He headed for the bar closest to the stage. The music flowed like it was part of you, and every note sent into the air seemed to pull him closer.

Something ‘bout you

Makes me feel like a dangerous woman

Your eyes scanned the crowd, recognizing the familiar faces of regulars, and the strangers who looked just as entranced. But one in particular caught your attention — eyes staring at you with intensity. It was different from the hungry, filthy looks you’d gotten used to ignoring. That man wasn’t devouring you. He was watching you with admiration — curious, enchanted.

You smiled back at him, returning his gaze, feeling butterflies in your stomach from the intensity before you turned toward the other side of the stage.

Something ‘bout you

Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn’t

You kept singing, but your eyes drifted back to that handsome man from time to time. He looked at you with such admiration that you couldn’t help yourself — it was like you were singing just for him.

Bruce felt the impact of your gaze straight in his chest. That wasn’t fleeting attraction; it was unlike anything he’d ever felt. It wasn’t about the dress, or your body, or the lipstick. It was the way you owned the space effortlessly, how your voice carried emotion in every syllable, how your eyes seemed to read his across the crowd.

You sang a few more songs before the final chord rang out. Applause filled the venue as you thanked the audience with a smile and left the stage to head backstage. Bruce followed you with his eyes until the last possible second, and then, the silence that came after your absence was deafening.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. He, Bruce Wayne, shaken like that by someone he barely knew? That was far from normal.

But then again, you weren’t.

He couldn’t resist.

He needed to understand what was happening. He stood and walked toward the backstage area. Of course, being Bruce Wayne made things easier — just one word and the security guard let him through as if he owned the place.

You were seated in front of the vanity, a glass of water in your hand, shoulders slightly damp from the effort. Still smiling, wrapped in the good energy from another show. This was what you loved.

But the soft footsteps behind you made you turn... and there he was.

Taller than you expected. And even more handsome up close than in any photo.

–You sing like an angel – he said, his voice deep and husky, hitting you hard.

You smiled, and he faltered for a second. He looked like a teenager completely smitten.

–Thank you, Mr. Wayne–you replied, standing and walking over to him. The height difference was staggering, and you had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. God, he must be close to two meters tall.

–You know who I am?– he asked, half-teasing.

–Hard not to. You’re on every channel in Gotham- you said with a sharp smile.–What brings the famous Bruce Wayne here tonight?

–A business meeting Informal.- he replied with a light grimace. – I hated every second. But now... I’m glad I didn’t leave earlier. I would’ve missed the chance to hear you sing.

–I’m flattered to hear that.

–Now even to your dressing room, the desire to know you more deeply

You blushed slightly but quickly composed yourself.

–Would you join me for a drink?- he asked, no pretense. Almost desperate for a few more minutes with you.

–And your partners? Won’t they mind you disappearing?

–They’ll deal with it. I only care about the fact that you’re still here –he said, eyes locked on yours.

You let out a soft laugh, a bit shy, but charmed.

–Sure... why would I turn down an invitation like that?

He smiled, and in a natural gesture, held out his hand. You took it — and let him lead you toward the bar, where the night, apparently, was just beginning.

The bar wasn’t as full as before; it had thinned out after your performance, the buzz quieter now, but the soft lighting and background music created an almost intimate atmosphere.

Bruce chose a corner table, away from curious eyes.

He pulled out a chair for you, which you thanked him for and sat down.

–So...– he began, as the waiter brought the drinks. – How long have you been singing?

–Since i was a kid, I think. Before I even understood what a musical note was, I was turning my house into a stage and making my mom watch, –  you replied with a nostalgic smile. – But it’s only in the last few years that I’ve made a living from it. Gotham is tough on many people, including artists. It wasn’t easy getting to sing in a bar like this.

— They recognized your talent. Your voice is far too enchanting to stay hidden — he said, without taking his eyes off you.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but kept your composure. You weren’t easily intimidated, but that gaze... it was as if he could see beyond what you showed.

— And you? — you asked, playfully. — Have you always been the mysterious, charming billionaire in the tabloids?

— Charming? — he raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. — That’s a new one.

— Hard to believe no one’s told you that before.

— Maybe... but it’s never sounded as good as it does now. — he replied, his deep voice making the words feel more intimate than they should.

— Can I ask you something? — he said, more serious now.

— Sure.

— When you were singing... it felt like you were looking right at me. Was that just my imagination?

You hesitated for a second. But decided not to lie.

— It wasn’t. You had this... intense look. It caught my attention.

Bruce gave a slight, satisfied smile.

— Good to know the feeling was mutual. Now I just want to find out everything I can about you... if you’ll let me.

His gaze was intense, and you wanted to savor every second. The conversation between you flowed like you’d known each other forever, so effortless and captivating that you barely noticed time passing. The bar, once crowded and noisy, was now nearly empty — it was practically just the two of you and the distant sound of ambient music.

— I should go... — you murmured, glancing around. — This late, getting a cab is going to be nearly impossible.

— I can take you home. — he offered, without hesitation.

— I don’t want to be a bother...

— What kind of man would let you walk out alone at this hour in a city like Gotham? — he raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. — And honestly, I’d love a few more minutes with you.

The way he said it made your heart race. You smiled, finally giving in.

With your bag in hand, you followed him to the car — and almost sighed at the sight of the luxurious model parked there. Not even in your wildest dreams did you imagine stepping into a car like that. Bruce opened the door for you, his hand warm and firm as it lightly touched your back to help you in. It was a simple gesture, but so intimate it made you hold your breath for a second.

The ride was peaceful. The city passed by outside, but inside the car, the world felt quiet and calm. The conversation remained light, full of smiles and lingering looks that lasted a beat longer than necessary. It was like there was a bubble around the two of you — and for some reason, it felt like the only place you were meant to be.

When you arrived, Bruce was quick to get out and open the door for you like a gentleman. Your home was simple, but cozy. He looked around for a moment, curious, before turning his gaze back to you.

— Thank you for bringing me home. — you said, a genuine smile on your lips.

— Thank you for letting me. — he replied, eyes locked on yours.

For a moment, silence fell between you again. But this time, it was full of possibilities.

His eyes were fixed on you, and there was something in them… like he was memorizing you from the inside out.

— Are you always this much of a gentleman, or are you just trying to impress me? — you asked, tilting your head slightly, arms crossed in a casual gesture, but with a teasing smile on your lips.

He smirked before replying provocatively:

— Only when it's worth impressing.

— Oh... so I’m special? — you raised an eyebrow. — And here I thought Bruce Wayne didn’t get shaken.

— I don’t. Usually. — he said. — But you... you’re not exactly easy to ignore.

You took a step closer, locking eyes with him. Your gaze danced between his eyes and mouth, teasing.

— You sure you don’t say that to everyone you meet?

— Only to one in particular. — He moved in closer, now so near you could feel the warmth of his body. — And even then, I still feel like I’m not saying enough.

— Hmm... — you lightly bit your lip, then smiled mischievously. — Maybe you’ll need to do more to convince me.

— Oh, yeah? — he smiled, now even closer — close enough that one more step and you’d be pressed against him. — And what should I do about that?

You looked at him with a sweet, wicked glint in your eyes, rising up on your toes to whisper in his ear:

— Surprise me.

He felt the hairs on his body stand on end, and didn’t hesitate before closing the gap, pulling you by the waist. You instinctively rose on your toes again as he leaned in and met your soft lips. When it happened, it felt like everything fell into place — it felt right, the two of you, as if the universe had held its breath waiting for this exact moment.

The kiss was intense. His hands gripped you firmly, and yours found their place on his neck and face, almost trying to pull him even closer, even though you were practically already fused together. It was insane how much you wanted him, and he felt the same, just as intensely.

Every second of that kiss screamed that you were made for each other, like the rest of the world simply faded away for a moment. Time stopped, and all that remained was the heat, the touch, and the desire.

It was something he had never felt before. The kiss lasted until you both had to break away for air — but you didn’t pull apart. His arms were still wrapped tightly and possessively around you.

— So, did I manage to convince you?

You laughed, touching his chest with a single finger, light and teasing.

— You’re doing pretty well… but I have a feeling you can do better.

He chuckled low, shaking his head.

— This is a dangerous game.

— I like to think I’m a dangerous woman... remember? — you winked.

And that’s when Bruce Wayne knew he was completely lost and that he needed you.

Part 2???

[mim16s]

Till death do us part

Summary: Votes are just words when a betrayal is discovered.

Warnings: Angst, physical aggression, torture, false betrayal, Pregnancy.

Author's notes: Let's start with an important fact, English is not my first language, if there is any spelling mistake, blame the translator! Second fact: Votes and reposts are appreciated, so please do this charity. And third fact: I know them, seriously, but I ended up running out of ideas for scenarios, so I got inspired by the Russians (since they have a history)

☆"I, Y/N/S, take thee, Simon Riley, to be my lawfully

wedded husband."☆

Ghost Husband! Who feels the world fall apart when he opens the yellow folder left on his desk, photos of you, talking and exchanging envelopes with a man he knows very well, after all, he was the one who captured him, a member of the Russian force.

He runs through the corridors, all eyes seem to be on him, but he doesn't care, clutching the envelope in his hands as he runs to the cells, where he knows you would be, where you are.

— Ghost… — Price steps in front of him, his hands holding your shoulders, Ghost can't look at him, his eyes fixed on you, hanging, hurt and almost unconscious.

— Did she betray us? — The question seems to come out bitterly, every piece of Ghost collapses when the captain nods reluctantly.

— Andrey Petrov. He confessed things that only she heard besides us. — He explains, and then Ghost pushes him aside, opening the cell, he sees you raise your head.

— Si… — You try with a broken voice, grunting when he squeezes your cheeks.

— We share the same bed. — He interrupts, you notice his eyes shining with tears. — And yet you betrayed me. YOU BETRAYED US!

You flinch when he shouts, pushing away from you aggressively.

— They lied, I-I. — You stop only to watch him rip open the envelope, throwing the photos at your bruised body. You tremble as you look at the photos, your doctor, the one who examined you two weeks ago, who told you in no uncertain terms that a child was on the way.

Did he lie?

— Simon… — Your voice breaks, suddenly you find the strength to face your husband. — He's my doctor, I was…

— Confidential conversations. — He interrupts again, approaching you again, pointing his finger in your face. — That only you heard, only you, me, and the captain, don't fucking lie to me.

— Simon…

— DON'T CALL ME THAT! — He yells, his hands coming up to hold your hair, you scream in pain. — You're nothing more than a traitor now.

Traitor.

'I swear to love and care for you at all times, and if I fail, it's because I'm dead." Simon says in a low voice, a soft smile on his face as he places the ring on your finger. "I swear to have you as my wife for the rest of my life, at all times, I will love you."

— I am… — You try to say, your voice dies when the door is opened once again, revealing a soldier, your colleague, known as “Wasp”.

— Lieutenant… The captain is calling you. — I’m coming. — And then he lets go of your hair, and slowly lifts your balaclava, collecting saliva and then spitting it on your face, the saliva mixing with your tears.

— I’ve already finished what I had to do. — And as soon as he leaves, you know that your world has ended, every piece of it, slipped through your fingers, so quickly, it all started in the morning, when you appeared in the mess hall, and everyone turned to you, until your captain, and best man at your wedding, punched you in the ribs, you fell to your knees, and then you were dragged to a cell.

— Please… — Your voice is interrupted by the scream that escapes, with the sharp pain of the cut on your arm, and then cheeks, thighs and legs.

— Your little friend asked me to say something. — The woman sighs, turning the bloody knife in her fingers. You frown. — It wasn’t fake. What wasn’t fake?

And then your eyes widen, your heart pounding in your chest.

— Listen, I swear I'm not a traitor. — A strong slap is placed on your face, you bite your cheeks before continuing. — You need to tell Simon that…

— Do you really think we're going to believe anything you say? — She questions, getting closer only to put the knife too close to your neck.

— Then go through my sock drawer. — You beg, tears falling. — If you ever had any respect for me, as a partner, at least tell Simon that. She doesn't answer, she just takes the knife away from your neck, grabs a bucket of ice water, and throws it on your body.

It was at that moment that you knew you were going to die.

☆"I promise to be faithful. "☆

You have no idea what time it is. The cell is dark, and now empty, only the sound of water dripping from your disheveled clothes fills the dirty environment, decorated with your blood and dried tears.

No one visited you besides the woman, but you know there's a soldier at the door, you can see the shadow, they all came to look at you, not for long enough, just telling you how disgusted you made them, Kyle, Price, Ghost, they were all at your wedding, they were all your family.

You decide to stop mourning, there aren't many things in the room, but there is the knife used by the woman who tortured you, under a table a few feet away from you.

With difficulty, you manage to free yourself from the handcuffs, your feet finally falling silently to the dirty floor, you don't care, picking up the knife, also ignoring the pain in your broken thumbs.

Hiding is also easy, you just stay behind the door, until you hear the soldier curse, and then open the door, looking for you, who is quick to attack - even with the pain in your body - You press the knife into his shoulder, he grunts in pain, and then you knock him down, piercing just below his ribs, a clean cut, without any damaged area, you were not a monster like them.

You grab the man's boots that are easily too big for your feet, but it doesn't matter, not when you run silently through the corridors, ignoring the silent pains in your body.

Dodging the awake soldiers is easier than it seems, ducking and sneaking, but unfortunately, the emergency button is soon activated, while you hide behind a column, everyone runs in the opposite direction, and you smile mentally, stumbling until you reach the outside, and then into the forests.

During the night, which you discover is cold, you hold your slightly larger belly, it's a search for comfort, and you can't help but pray that he's okay.

You don't know how long you've been walking, but at some point, your still wet body feels heavy, and you find yourself forced to lean against a tree, sliding until you fall on top of the leaves, you sigh, your eyes closing. I'm not going to die.

☆"love you and respect you ."☆

— WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?! — Ghost screams as he pushes the door, the squad stares at him, clearing their throats.

— She injured one of ours, and then ran away. — Price explains. — All we know is that she ran into the forest.

— She would have to walk more than ten kilometers to find any sign of life. — Ghost grumbles, rubbing his forehead in irritation.

— She must have someone waiting for her. — Kyle suggests.

— And wouldn't they come for Andrey? — Ghost interrupts.

— Y/N could be the real piece, Andrey is probably a pawn. — Kyle explains, crossing his arms.

— He got caught and then he ratted her out, we just need to know how she got someone to come looking for her.

— That doesn't matter now. — Price says, walking around the room. — We need to know what she knew, and how much they know.

And then they go back to Andrey's cell, who is more injured than you, with a broken nose, and yet a splendid smile on his face, the smile of a winner, he starts to hum.

— Не плачь, девочка, мама тебя спасет. — Ghost approaches, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

— What is he singing? — Ghost asks the translator next to him, he doesn't take long to answer.

— Don't cry girl, mommy will save you. — Ghost sighs deeply, holding his jaw.

— Tell me what you know.

— Она такой хороший солдат, мой друг, она девушка. — he says with difficulty.

— She'll make a good soldier, I bet it's a girl. — The military man translates.

— Who is she? — Ghost takes a deep breath, irritation growing in his body.

— Кто она? — The translator asks.

—Это, очевидно, ваша дочь. — He says, looking at Simon with a big smile.

For a moment, even the military man translating stops, his eyes wide and his breath held.

— What the fuck did he say? — Ghost steps away, approaching the translator, who reluctantly looks into his eyes.

— Your daughter.

No. It can't be. I-

It's impossible.

He doesn't,

there's no way,

no-

— Daughter? — His questions come out slowly.

— The one in your little wife's belly. — The prisoner says with an accent, his voice thick and drawn out, his smile seems to widen, and suddenly Ghost feels suffocated.

— I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! — He grabs the man by the collar, his eyes locked on his, who shows no sign of lying, Ghost feels dizzy. — She's not pregnant, she would have told me!

— Она сказала, что планирует рассказать

— She said she planned to say it.

— Она сказала, что хочет чего-то романтического.

— She said she wanted something romantic.

“Baby, what do you think of this?” You ask sweetly one night, sitting on Simon’s lap, scrolling your finger on the screen of your phone.

“Why something so fancy, baby? We’re already married, aren’t we?” Simon jokes, mentally noting the name of the place.

“I want something special for us, Si.” And then you kiss him, he kisses you back, so sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— Папы не существует, мама его убьет. — He continues to hum.

— Daddy doesn’t exist, mommy will kill him.

Simon doesn’t think before running to his quarters, the room they’ve shared for years, he searches under the bed, inside the wardrobes, and then drawers. There are sheets of paper with words and more words, and then:

Positive for pregnancy.

— Simon. — Price runs to the room, stopping at the door only to see Simon kneeling, his fingers trembling as he holds the paper. — Did you find out?

— Find out what? — He looks up at his captain.

— The pregnancy. — Price bites his cheeks, guilt burning in his chest.

— How do you know about this?

— W-we found a… — Price interrupts himself, sniffling softly, trying to contain his tears. — Recorder on her cell phone, hidden in the case.

— S-so she didn’t… — Simon doesn’t need to finish, he is interrupted by a loud sniff from Price, who timidly nods. — Fuck.

Traitor.

Traitor.

Traitor.

“I swear, for the rest of my life, to be with you, when you fall and when you get up.” Simon fell even more in love with your smile, at that moment, you dressed in white, your eyes shining, he finally felt alive.

Kyle, Gaz, Price, Soap, his entire family, present at the best moment of his life.

“And I promise to love you even in the fights, the battles and the heartaches.”

Idiot.

Idiot.

Idiot.

— We need to go after her. — And then they both quickly agree, and stumble toward the rest of the task force.

Little did they know that as their bodies ran through the forests, screaming your name, with nothing but flashlights to light their way, you were no longer there, your body carried like feathers by soldiers in black, barely able to breathe, pale and cold.

— It seems we have a victory. — One of them cheers, the same Russian accent you would hear from now on, a new life.

Or the destruction of it.

☆"In joy and in sadness"☆

[mim16s]

This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it’s good!

English isn’t my first language, so there might be some spelling mistakes.

I’m open to requests, so feel free to send me your ideas!

Warnings: Established relationship, smut, cockwarming, MDNI, Unprotected sex.

- Shh, darling... don't move. I'll never finish this paperwork.

You just moaned in response, burying your face in his neck. How dare he ask you to calm down while he was still so deep inside you? You felt his every movement, the slow writhing in the warmth of your walls, each pulse of his thick length leaving your intimacy so wet that it seemed to beg for more - waiting for him to finally fuck you the way only he knew how.

- I can't take it anymore... please, love... ‐ you murmured, sprinkling wet kisses on his neck and collarbone, squeezing him with your pussy in a mute plea for him to drop all those stupid roles and concentrate on what really mattered: you.

- Damn... uhg... don't do that, baby. That's a low blow - he grunted, putting his hands on your waist.

You moaned lowly, rolling subtly against him, seeking the friction you craved - only to be suddenly restrained by a firm grip and a hot, authoritative slap on the ass.

- That's it. Stay still or I won't let you cum.

You stopped instantly. He didn't joke about that. The last time you'd doubted, he'd ruined every one of your orgasms... and you still remembered the delicious torture. Now, if the price for being fucked well was to obey and wait, so be it. You kept quiet, even though every part of your body was begging for more.

- Good girl.

The nickname made you blush, even though you tried not to show it. But the way your body reacted, squeezing him even tighter by reflex, gave you away. You ignored your wounded pride, snuggled back against his chest and buried your face in his neck, trying to distract yourself.

Bruce wasn't much better either. Every contraction of his warm walls brought him closer to the edge. He was trying not to grab you and fuck you like a fucking animal. You were his paradise - tight, hot, receptive - and even though his instincts were screaming, he loved to tease you. Just a little more, he told himself.

From time to time, he would sink in with a slow, deep thrust just to hear you whimper and then go back to work as if nothing had happened. When the last piece of paper was put aside, he finally turned his face to you. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, like someone fighting an internal war. Bruce smiled and kissed your temple. You opened your eyes with tears caught in the corners and a look so full of desire that it made him contract inside you.

- That's my girl... you've behaved so well. You deserves a reward.

You nodded, desperate. Just one more minute and you'd lose control.

- All right... I'll take care of you, princess.

His kiss was fierce and sweet at the same time. His lips took yours thirstily, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. And then you felt it. The first thrust. Slow, but firm. You moaned against his mouth and he gripped you tightly. The hands on your waist were intense, firm.

You knew you'd be booked the next day, but you didn't care. Not when he was fucking you like that. Not when he knew you so well.

Each thrust was precise, right to the point that made you scream. His name escaped your lips in loud moans that would echo through any hallway in the house. Bruce also moaned hoarsely, enjoying every contraction of your pussy enveloping him to perfection.

- Bruce... there... ah... right there...

You were drunk with pleasure, throwing your neck back, offering your skin for him to kiss, suck, bite. He alternated between thrusting and exploring with his mouth, devoting himself to every part of you as if it were sacred. His tongue went down to her breast, circling her button as his hips accelerated. It was too much. It was perfect.

- Bruce... I'm... I'm close...

- I know, love. Give it to me. Lick me with your juices.

He was on the edge too, but he wanted you to come first. One hand went down to your clitoris and began to trace precise circles. You screamed. The thrusts got faster. You squeezed him hard, making him moan loudly and praise you between sighs.Your eyes rolled back, his name escaping in a scream as you came - intense, wet, rapturous.

He came straight away, spurting into you with powerful thrusts, prolonging your orgasm as long as possible. Your body trembled, but he held you tightly, glued to you, as if he never wanted to part.

- So good for me...- he whispered, stroking your hair and kissing your lips tenderly, now with a lazy, passionate touch.

You cuddled up against him, feeling the fluids of the two of you mingling, with him still inside you, and after you'd calmed down he finally said

- Come on, love... let's wash up.

He lifted you with ease, carrying you to the bathroom. You smiled, hugging him. After being fucked so well, you'd still be pampered by your husband.

[mim16s]

This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it’s good!

English isn’t my first language, so there might be some spelling mistakes.

I’m open to requests, so feel free to send me your ideas!

Warnings: Established relationship, smut, cockwarming, MDNI, Unprotected sex.

- Shh, darling... don't move. I'll never finish this paperwork.

You just moaned in response, burying your face in his neck. How dare he ask you to calm down while he was still so deep inside you? You felt his every movement, the slow writhing in the warmth of your walls, each pulse of his thick length leaving your intimacy so wet that it seemed to beg for more - waiting for him to finally fuck you the way only he knew how.

- I can't take it anymore... please, love... ‐ you murmured, sprinkling wet kisses on his neck and collarbone, squeezing him with your pussy in a mute plea for him to drop all those stupid roles and concentrate on what really mattered: you.

- Damn... uhg... don't do that, baby. That's a low blow - he grunted, putting his hands on your waist.

You moaned lowly, rolling subtly against him, seeking the friction you craved - only to be suddenly restrained by a firm grip and a hot, authoritative slap on the ass.

- That's it. Stay still or I won't let you cum.

You stopped instantly. He didn't joke about that. The last time you'd doubted, he'd ruined every one of your orgasms... and you still remembered the delicious torture. Now, if the price for being fucked well was to obey and wait, so be it. You kept quiet, even though every part of your body was begging for more.

- Good girl.

The nickname made you blush, even though you tried not to show it. But the way your body reacted, squeezing him even tighter by reflex, gave you away. You ignored your wounded pride, snuggled back against his chest and buried your face in his neck, trying to distract yourself.

Bruce wasn't much better either. Every contraction of his warm walls brought him closer to the edge. He was trying not to grab you and fuck you like a fucking animal. You were his paradise - tight, hot, receptive - and even though his instincts were screaming, he loved to tease you. Just a little more, he told himself.

From time to time, he would sink in with a slow, deep thrust just to hear you whimper and then go back to work as if nothing had happened. When the last piece of paper was put aside, he finally turned his face to you. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, like someone fighting an internal war. Bruce smiled and kissed your temple. You opened your eyes with tears caught in the corners and a look so full of desire that it made him contract inside you.

- That's my girl... you've behaved so well, deserves a reward.

You nodded, desperate. Just one more minute and you'd lose control.

- All right... I'll take care of you, princess.

His kiss was fierce and sweet at the same time. His lips took yours thirstily, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. And then you felt it. The first thrust. Slow, but firm. You moaned against his mouth and he gripped you tightly. The hands on your waist were intense, firm.

You knew you'd be booked the next day, but you didn't care. Not when he was fucking you like that. Not when he knew you so well.

Each thrust was precise, right to the point that made you scream. His name escaped your lips in loud moans that would echo through any hallway in the house. Bruce also moaned hoarsely, enjoying every contraction of your pussy enveloping him to perfection.

- Bruce... there... ah... right there...

You were drunk with pleasure, throwing your neck back, offering your skin for him to kiss, suck, bite. He alternated between thrusting and exploring with his mouth, devoting himself to every part of you as if it were sacred. His tongue went down to her breast, circling her button as his hips accelerated. It was too much. It was perfect.

- Bruce... I'm... I'm close...

- I know, love. Give it to me. Lick me with your juices.

He was on the edge too, but he wanted you to come first. One hand went down to your clitoris and began to trace precise circles. You screamed. The thrusts got faster. You squeezed him hard, making him moan loudly and praise you between sighs.

Your eyes rolled back, his name escaping in a scream as you came - intense, wet, rapturous.

He came straight away, spurting into you with powerful thrusts, prolonging your orgasm as long as possible. Your body trembled, but he held you tightly, glued to you, as if he never wanted to part.

- So good for me...- he whispered, stroking your hair and kissing your lips tenderly, now with a lazy, passionate touch.

You cuddled up against him, feeling the fluids of the two of you mingling, with him still inside you, and after you'd calmed down he finally said

- Come on, love... let's wash up.

He lifted you with ease, carrying you to the bathroom. You smiled, hugging him. After being fucked so well, you'd still be pampered by your husband.

[mim16s]

You should be (afraid)

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: This IS the last chapter, damn....Thank God, the next one shot is one I am excited for but babes that gonna have to wat till tomorrow. Imagine Y/n's clothes like this and this but instead of red, it is green. ( yes im an ATLA fan and yes it its inspired by Azula)

Warnings: Language?

Part 1 // Part 2

---

You double-checked your hair as you looked in the mirror. The day had come when you would only be known as Y/n Al Ghul, heir to the Demon Head and future Leader of the League of Assassins. It was difficult to grasp if you were quite honest. Per your request, the League had changed headquarters. Nanda Parbat was no longer safe so you had advised of getting one of the old abandoned cities of the League and turning the temple into headquarters with the rest of the city becoming a safe place for all of the servants and assassins. It was surrounded by water and walls with constant surveillance, meaning that no one could get in or out without people knowing. You were never going to forget the day that you came back, the surprise on your grandfather's face as you got to your knees and pledged allegiance to the League. He wasn't convinced at first but came around as you solidified your loyalty. You were no longer a Wayne like Damian. You were an Al Ghul

// "Leave us." Ras's voice carried out across the room. Your mother looked at you and gave you a reassuring nod before she left. As the room emptied, you were starting to feel nervous. Was this the right decision or were you too impulsive? "Explain to me, once again, child. Why are you here?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. You summon all of the courage you had in your body and stand up. "I came to reclaim my birthright as the rightful heir to the Demon Head," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady. "Is that so? Why the change of heart?" I hesitated to answer and he saw right through me. His knowing smirk gave it away. "Tired of being part of the birds and the Bats it seems. It is very curious how only one came back. You and your brother were inseparable. Should I expect a visit from him as well? To rescue his sis-" "No." I interrupted him and he seemed taken back "No?" "I was never part of their…team. My brother formed great loyalty and attachment to them, but I did not. They…" "Go on" "They rejected me the day I arrived, yet accepted my brother. I have been forgotten, ignored, and cast aside from the moment that I became present in that household. I only hold care for one of them and even he wasn't enough to make me stay." Ras stayed quiet for a moment. "So what my daughter has been telling me is correct after all. It wasn't just that she missed you. Well, then. Let me make you a proposition. You have three months to make me believe you are capable of being my heir. If you succeed, you will begin training solely for the purpose of being my successor. Were you to not prove yourself, you would leave at once. Have I made myself clear, child?" Ras never was one for empty threats and promises, so all she could do was nod. "You are dismissed. Tell your mother to meet me here. We have a few things to discuss" he dismissed you, "Oh and child?" You looked towards him hopefully. "It is good one of you came back to your senses. Don't disappoint me" And thus began the most excruciating three months of your life. //

You were surprised at how well you had adjusted to the League after coming back. Sure, those three months were harsh, but they weren't bad. You were thankful that you picked up a demanding sport such as ice skating. You weren't sure how you'd survive otherwise. Your mother would spar with you any time she visited so your skills weren't too rusty. After sharpening what had been there once again, which had taken you a month and a half, you were able to take assassins from the highest of ranks. Once your grandfather was satisfied, thus began your preparation for a leader. You were a natural. Your role was to follow your grandfather, grant him counsel, and even take part in some of the decision-making processes. Once, your grandfather had even gotten close to saying he was proud. Even went to say (in between the lines of course) that you had been able to surpass your brother in preparation. Since then, you understood that you no longer lived in Damian's shadow. A year had passed soon and your grandfather had announced that we would have a special coronation where you would be proclaimed as Heir.

That brought us here, to your coronation day. Your armor was specifically made to tailor you and your comfort for battle. Your hair, which had gotten quite long, was pulled into an intricate braid so that your face would be visible. You felt strong and that brought a smile to your face.

"You look radiant, my dear" you hear your mother say from behind you. "Thank you, Mother" You responded as she stood in front of you and caressed your face tenderly.

"Ma'am, you have some visitors" A voice was heard from outside the door. One of your assistants went to open the door and lo and behold…your family was there.

They entered slowly, one by one. Each suited up. "Beloved, those are not ceremonial robes" your mother reprimanded Damian, but he wasn't focused on her. He was focused on you.

"So, it is true then, sister," Damian asked feeling the air leave his chest. You were there, but it wasn't you. It couldn't be you. You were soft, kind, gentle, and tame, and you never raised your voice, you were you and this wasn't you. You looked stronger that's for sure. He wouldn't be surprised if their grandfather was injecting something into you. You looked like a member, no, scratch that, you looked like the heir. From the way you stood, with a sight upward til in your head, to the way you dressed. There was a sharpness in your eyes that told him that Ras had not been soft in your teachings.

"What is, Robin," you asked steadily. Gone was the girl who cried over her lost brother. Damian wouldn't admit it but he was hurt. Hearing you call him by his alias so coldly stung in ways he couldn't imagine.

"You truly are becoming the next Head of the Demon, Y/n?" This time the question came from Dick. The last months have been hell for all of them after the shock of your departure. It was as if someone had splashed all of them with a bucket of cold water and brought them back to reality. They had all visited your room at least once, would continually watch your ice skating videos, and would look at footage of you in the manor from the last years. They had desperately searched for a semblance of you in the entirety of the manor.

"Yes. What's it to you, Nightwing?" She responded once again coldly.

"Alfred misses you," It was Jason who spoke up this time. It was jarring to see the girl he once treated as his precious princess following the footsteps of someone so wretched.

"At least someone does. I couldn't visit because of my training. Once the ceremony is finalized, I will have more time and I will visit him" "So you will visit us at the manor-" "I will visit Alfred only. I have no other reason to do so," She interrupted Tim, with a heated gaze.

"What about your dreams of becoming a professional, (nickname)? It was all you ever wanted, you worked so hard for that. We all know, we all saw. This is not wh-"

"What do you know of me, Damian? What do any of you know about me?! We both arrived at the same. Time. And it appeared as if only you were there! Everyone favored you over me and why? Because you were fucking Robin and I wasn't? I tried to reach out. I invited you everywhere, I searched for you all everywhere, I asked and asked and the only thing that I ever received in return was disdain and silence. I only wanted to be loved, LOVED DAMIAN! What you got and I didn't! And if I tried to speak out, I was hushed because I had to be understanding of your processes. I WAS A CHILD HONED AS A WEAPON TOO. I went through everything you did too! And did any of you ever recognize that? NO! You stopped knowing me the moment you forgot you had a twin. You stopped knowing me when I came back and all of you were celebrating OUR birthday as if it was only you. You lost me the moment that you preferred seeing Jon over watching me compete at Nationals. You lost me when you left to see the Titans and I had to find out weeks later. You lost me when you decided that the love they gave you was yours alone and that I didn't deserve a fraction of it." She ranted and with her every word, Damian took a step back.

"You were always out training or with your friends-"

"Don't try to pin this on me, Damian Wayne. You all pushed me away." Y/n scoffed. "I invited you here because you are my mother's son. Not because I wanted you here. They were invited cordially because they are your family. Don't mistake my act of respect as an act of love."

"There are other ways, Y/n" Batman tried to intervene. Even if it didn't show, Bruce was hurting. He was deeply ashamed and disappointed at how things had turned out.

A bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Y/n straightened her back and turned towards her mother, a small smile present in her face. That smile, as much as it softened everyone's hearts, hardened the moment she turned to them,

"Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, I will only say this once. I lack the care and mercy my grandfather and mother seem to have for you, with the small exception of Alfred and my brother. I will take this mantle. I will become the Heir to the Demon Head and I will be the next Leader of the League of Assassins. Those are facts that you will have to deal with. If you are here to cause a commotion, then I suggest you leave. I will not tell my assassins to hold back on their ways. If you'd like to stay, so be it. Enjoy the festivity. Have it very clear. I want all of you out. Of. My. Way. once I am the head. This is my birthright and I want it to have nothing with all of you." She started looking at Batman dead in the eye. "Nothing."

"My lady, everyone is expecting you" Came a voice from outside.

"Well, then. Let's go dear. You wouldn't want to have your grandfather waiting would you? Destiny awaits" said Talia as she ushered Y/n out of the room. She never spared a glance at the five men standing in front of her.

That day, they all watched from the sidelines as their sister was proclaimed Heir. Damian had failed and he was going to make sure he NEVER failed again. He was going to do everything in his power to fix the bridges that had been burnt with his sister. As much as Bruce wanted to reassure Damian that everything would be okay, he couldn't. It became clear to him that from now on when interacting with the League, they had to be extremely careful because his daughter could easily become as much an ally as she could be a formidable opponent. He never thought he'd say it but he was afraid of what his little girl could become.

---

Author's note: YES!!! I FINISHED IN ONE NIGHT!!! YESSSSS LAWRD!!!! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK!! I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL SAY!! LIKE AND REPOST! BESITOSSS!!

[mim16s]

━━━ ✧˖° 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.”

[mim16s]

Is anyone still here? I disappeared but I'm back, and I intend to continue Survival in game

[mim16s]

Arcade — Se-mi x fem!reader

From the beginning, you knew the relationship was a losing game, but obsession and attachment were stronger than reason, making it impossible to simply let it go.

Winning story of this poll

English is not my first language, so there may be spelling errors, but I hope you like it.

---

— Why do you keep pushing me away? You're my girlfriend, but you act like a stranger. — Your voice broke as tears streamed down his face. Semi was there, just a few steps away from you, but she felt more distant than ever. She wouldn’t look into your eyes, staring at the wall instead, as if ignoring your pain was easier than facing it. 

— You're overreacting, — she said, her voice low, almost indifferent, but you knew there was something more hidden beneath it. 

— Overreacting? — Your breathing became uneven, as if indignation was consuming you. — Damn it, the last time you kissed me was a week ago! I don't even remember the last time we slept together. You spend the whole day out, barely look at me, and now you can't even face me. Is there someone else? Is that it? — The words came out fast, your voice breaking at the end as fear and insecurity took over. Your words were enough to finally make her look at you. 

Semi’s eyes met yours with something between shock and pain, as if you had just said the most absurd thing in the world. 

— You know I would never do that. — Her voice was firm, but there was something broken in her tone. — I've just been… working. These debts are taking all my time. 

— I know! — you shouted, the desperation inside you growing. — And I'm helping you with that, but that doesn’t give you the right to push me away like I'm not part of your life! 

— That's the problem. — Her voice came out almost as a whisper, but every word cut like a blade. 

— What? What do you mean by that? — you asked, feeling the ground disappear beneath your feet. Your voice trembled, full of fear for the answer you were about to hear. 

She hesitated, as if the next sentence was an unbearable weight to carry. But then, she let it out: 

— Maybe… maybe we shouldn't be together anymore. 

Everything stopped. The world seemed to freeze around you. The silence was so deafening it screamed inside your head. You could almost hear your heart pounding, aching, as if it was struggling to keep beating. You stood there, staring at her, tears falling uncontrollably, unable to find the strength to speak or move. 

Semi also seemed surprised by her own words, as if they had hurt her just as much as they had hurt you, but she didn’t take them back. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but behind them was a cruel determination. She grabbed a jacket that was thrown over the couch and, without another word, walked out the door. 

You collapsed onto the floor as soon as you heard the door close. The weight of the moment was unbearable. Your knees gave out, and you broke down, tears blurring your vision. It was as if reality had crumbled around you, leaving behind only an unbearable pain. 

On the other side of the door, Semi finally allowed her tears to fall. The salty taste of each tear was a reflection of her decision, of everything she had just lost. She knew she loved you more than anything, but that love was dangerous. She owed money to people who didn’t forgive, who would do anything to collect their debt. And if you stayed by her side, you would be in danger too. 

She had already seen the end of your story before it even began, but still, she had taken the risk, betting everything she had. And now, she was paying the price. As much as she wanted to fight, reality was relentless. You deserved more, deserved someone who could give you security, a better life. And she couldn’t offer that. Not with those debts. Not with the chaos she was caught up in. 

— I should've never started this. I could never give you what you deserve. 

But that didn’t make the decision any less painful. Every step she took away from you felt like it was breaking her a little more. Because deep down, Semi knew she was walking away from the only good thing she had ever had in her life. 

---

— Y/N? What are you doing here? — A familiar voice came from behind you, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound shattered the fragile silence you had carried in your heart since the day she left. The same voice that had destroyed you but still lived in every corner of your chest, as if it had built a home inside you. 

You turned around, and there she was. Semi. The woman who had broken your heart but never really left it. 

— Semi. — Her name slipped from your lips in a whisper, heavy with months of hurt and longing. 

Semi stood still for a moment, surprised to see you there. Her eyes scanned you with a mix of relief and despair. 

— You shouldn't be here, — she said, stepping closer quickly. — It's too dangerous for you. 

Before you could react, Semi grabbed your hand. The touch you had longed for so long was finally there. Memories, laughter, soft touches, passionate kisses, whispered promises that now seemed so distant flooded your mind. But along with them came reality. You pulled away from her touch, and the look of sadness she gave you almost broke your heart all over again. 

— It's okay, I deserve that. — She averted her eyes, but only for a second. Since she had left you, Semi hadn’t spent a single day without thinking about you. She had wondered how you were, if you had moved on, if you were happy. And now that she was in front of you again, all she wanted was to be selfish for a moment, to forget why she had left and beg to come back. 

But she knew it wasn’t that simple. 

— You do, — you answered, your voice firm but filled with pain. — But not just that, Semi. You destroyed me. I shouldn't even be here, shouldn't even be talking to you. You ended our years-long relationship without even giving me a reasonable explanation. 

The words hit Semi like knives she knew she deserved. She took a deep breath before finally speaking. 

— You're right. I owe you an explanation. — Her voice trembled, but she continued. — I… I never wanted to break up with you, but I had to. 

You stayed silent, waiting for something that might finally make sense of what she had done. 

— At that time, I was… I was in debt with loan sharks. — Semi looked down, as if it was hard to confess. — And I couldn't pay them back. They started threatening me… and threatening you. I couldn't let them do anything to you because of my mistake. That week, they told me that if I didn’t pay up, they would hurt you. I had no way out, Y/N. The only thing I could do to protect you was to push you away. 

You froze. For months, you had wondered about the reason, and now, hearing it felt surreal. 

— I swear I didn't want to break up with you. — Semi’s voice cracked, and tears began streaming down her face. — But I had no choice. I love you too much to let anything happen to you because of me. 

You could barely process her words. Seeing Semi cry was rare. She had always been so strong, so resilient. But now, there she was—broken, vulnerable, in a way you had never seen before. 

— You should have told me… — your voice came out low, still in disbelief. 

— And get you even more involved in this? — Semi answered quickly, her tone almost desperate. — That was never an option, Y/N. I just… I just wanted you to be safe. I'm sorry. 

Tears now fell silently from her face, and the strong facade she usually wore was crumbling. Every angry speech you had rehearsed for this moment… vanished. 

You stepped forward and hugged her, holding her as if time hadn’t passed. Semi wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you so tightly it felt like she was afraid to lose you again. 

— I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… — she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. 

You stroked her hair as you cried too. No words could fix everything, but for that moment, the embrace was enough. Two wounded souls, trying to find refuge in each other. You didn’t know if there was a future for you both, but despite everything, she still felt like home. Because even after all this time, the love you shared was something that not even time had been able to erase.

—��

You were now in the second game, trying to form a team. Your hands were still intertwined with hers when you noticed a shy guy standing off in the distance, watching the other players. He seemed to be gathering the courage to ask to join a team. You looked at Semi with the expression of someone asking to adopt a puppy, and she, unable to deny you anything, just nodded her head.  —Hey, do you want to join our team?— you asked.  The guy hesitated for a moment, but soon agreed with a shy nod.  —Yes, please—he answered with a slightly shaky voice, almost desperate, bowing slightly in respect.  You smiled, gently tapping his shoulder.  —No need to bow—you said kindly. —I’m Y/N, and this is Semi.—You gestured toward her, and she gave a brief wave. —And you? —Minsu. My name is Minsu Park.—He replied, trying to smile as well.  —Why did you join the game?—Semi asked, but before he could answer, a voice called out from behind you.  —Señoritas, excuse me.— You turned around, finding a man with purple hair. He had a confident posture, but something about him seemed... off.  —Come play with me, huh?— said the stranger. Beside him, a friend nudged him, as if trying to stop him.  Semi immediately wrapped an arm around you protectively, and you could feel the tension in the air.  —Why?— Semi asked, suspicious.  —Don’t you know who I am? I’m the rapper Thanos."  —Wait, we don’t even know what the game is yet. And they’re women, man—commented his friend in a derogatory tone. You held back the urge to roll your eyes.  —Thanos will protect you— he said confidently.  —Oh, really? Thanos, did you collect all the Infinity Stones?—you teased, with a touch of sarcasm.  —Of course!—he replied, showing his painted nails in the colors of the stones. You blinked, trying to process this. He seemed... high? Definitely out of touch with reality.  —From now on, I’ll destroy anyone who gets in my way—he continued, gesturing exaggeratedly.—If you stay with me, you’ll be safe.— He looked directly at you, but Semi quickly pulled you closer, making him look confused for a few seconds.  —Actually, we were thinking about joining someone else’s team— Semi answered.  —No problem. Who?—he asked, curious.  You moved aside so he could see Minsu, who looked like a scared kitten hiding behind you.  —What’s your name?— asked the purple-haired man.  —It’s... Minsu—The guy replied, almost stuttering.  —What a stupid face...— muttered Thanos’ friend, stepping forward, but was stopped by Thanos.  —What's up? Nice to meet you, my brother. Welcome to the Thanos world— he greeted Minsu with an exaggerated hug.—You’re cute, come here. Although you felt this group wasn’t the best choice, there didn’t seem to be many options or time to think. Reluctantly, you agreed, but the discomfort with the long-haired, dark-haired man wouldn’t go away. 

---

You finally finished the game and sat close to each other, watching Namgyu acting like a total idiot with Minsu. The growing feeling that he didn’t seem like a good person only increased.  —How many people do you think are left?— Namgyu asked in a mocking tone.  —What?—Minsu, who was all curled up, asked.  —Yeah, how many are there?—Namgyu with the long hair repeated. —How many worms do you think are still here?— You watched as Minsu looked around, trying to estimate the number of people.  —Uh... two hundred, I think. —How do you know? Count them one by one. —Now?—Minsu asked, and Namgyu nodded positively. You felt sorry for him; he was too innocent for this place. When he was about to get up, you were about to intervene, but Semi was faster and stopped him.  —Sit down, what are you gonna count for? What a dumb thing to do, soon the masked guys will come and say...—Semi spoke, and Namgyu glared at her for questioning the authority he thought he had.  —Shut up, you bich —Hey, don't talk to her like that!— you said, already getting pissed off with his attitude. When he was about to respond, Thanos interrupted.  —Stop it! What’s your name?— He asked, looking at the shyest one.  —Minsu. —How old are you? —I’m twenty-seven— Minsu replied, his hands placed nervously in his lap.  —Twenty-seven, why are you obeying him? He’s your age. Hey Namsu, are you twenty-seven? —It’s Namgyu— you almost laughed at that. He walks around like a little dog behind someone he doesn’t even know the name of? Pathetic.  —Okay, Namgyu. Are you twenty-seven?—Thanos said, not caring about the correction.  —Yeah—Namgyu confirmed.  —See that? Leave him alone, man. We’re together, okay? How old are you?—Thanos asked Semi and you.  —Twenty-eight—she lied.  —Twenty-seven— you lied as well, not wanting to admit you were the youngest and risk having problems with Namgyu thinking he could boss you around.  —So, that’s it. You three are the same, and you’re the old lady.—He pointed at Semi. You let out a small laugh, and she looked at you, also laughing.  —Hey Namsu, call her old lady—Thanos said, and Namgyu laughed too. 

---

After eating, you sat very close to each other in a discreet corner where few people were around. The few who were there were far enough away that nothing else mattered except the two of you.  —I missed you...—you whispered, your voice full of longing. Semi held your hands tightly, as if wanting to make sure you were really there.  —I missed you too... There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. But now that we’re together again, I promise to be the girlfriend you always deserved. —Semi...—Your eyes searched hers, so full of sweetness and desire.—You’re already everything I could want. You’re perfect for me. Semi’s gaze slid over your lips before returning to your eyes, and her voice came heavy with desire and urgency.  —I really want to kiss you right now... She moved closer, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies touching in a silent promise of everything you felt for each other.  —People can see...—you murmured, but the warmth of her touch made your body give in, your will dissolving in the desire to feel her even more.  —And you care? Because I don’t—Semi replied, her voice hoarse, full of longing.  Before you could say anything, her lips took yours, and the world around you disappeared. The kiss was intense, urgent, as if both of you were starving for each other. It was like a dance that only the two of you knew, each movement in perfect harmony, each sigh echoing like an intimate melody between you. Semi pulled you into her lap, and your hands slid over her face, holding her as if you never wanted to let her go. Your fingers trembled with the need to feel her more, to imprint every detail of the moment.  The air soon became scarce, and you pulled away just enough to breathe. But Semi didn’t want distance. She chased your lips with small kisses before burying her face in your neck, spreading slow, lingering kisses across your skin. Her arms tightened around your waist, as if she feared you’d disappear again.  —I missed this so much... I love you.— Her voice was muffled against your skin, full of emotion.  You smiled and held her face, lifting it so your eyes could meet.  —I love you even more...—you whispered before sealing your lips in a tender kiss.—Semi, let’s play just one more game so we can leave soon. She nodded, but her eyes said all she wanted was you.  —Just one more game...— she repeated, but before letting you go, she stole one more kiss, deep and full of promise. As soon as you left, she didn’t just want to kiss you... she wanted to rediscover you completely.

---

You woke up to loud music echoing through the speakers. Your body was still intertwined with Semi's, your head resting on her chest, while her arms held you tightly, as if refusing to let you go. The warmth of her body was comforting, and for a moment, you wished time would stop right there.

With a gentle touch, you softly shook her to wake her up. Semi blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light, her face relaxed as if she had slept deeply for the first time in a long time... actually, since the last time you two had been together. She felt recharged, as if being with you was all she needed to feel complete.

When your eyes met hers, a light, sleepy smile appeared on her lips, almost as if she had forgotten for a moment where you were.

—We need to get up... the game is about to start— you murmured, your voice low, almost reluctant to break the moment.

Semi nodded, but before allowing any distance to grow between you, she slightly lifted her head and captured your lips in a soft, slow kiss, filled with affection. Her fingers slid over your skin before, with some hesitation, she finally let go of you.

You got up first, feeling the cold take the place where her warmth had been. Semi watched you for a moment before sighing and getting up right behind you, her eyes still filled with a silent desire to pull you into her arms once again.

"Players, welcome to the third game. We’re about to begin! Today’s game is called Socialize."

The robotic voice echoed through the environment, cold and impersonal.

—There’s a carousel! It’s going to be awesome, right?— Thanos said excitedly, but you just stared at him. "Awesome" didn’t seem like the right word. Not here. You just wanted this to end soon.

"Pay attention to the game rules. Players, please head to the center of the platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and a number will be announced. You’ll have 30 seconds to form a group with the exact number of members corresponding to the number, enter a room, and close the door."

You tried to convince yourself: It will be fine as long as we’re together.

"Attention, the game is starting."

The platform began to spin. The floor trembled under your feet, the movement destabilizing you. Semi held your hands tightly, keeping you steady.

—So we don’t get separated—she said, her eyes determined.

"Ten."

There were five of you. You needed five more. Your heart raced. Without wasting any time, you grabbed random people and ran to an empty room. Semi never let go of your hand, her fingers squeezing yours as if her life depended on it.

The countdown ended. The door locked.

And then came the gunshots.

The screams were worse. High-pitched, desperate, suddenly cut off. You felt your whole body shiver. The sound of bodies falling to the ground echoed outside. Semi pulled you close, and you curled up against her.

When you left, you were back at the carousel. The children’s music played as a cruel contrast to the brutality of the game. Thanos and Namgyu danced, oblivious to the tension that made your chest burn. You tried to breathe deeply, but you felt like you were suffocating.

The rotation stopped.

"Four."

There were five of you.

Your stomach sank.

—You go, I’ll find another team.—Semi said, trying to release your hand.

You squeezed tighter.

—No!

—We don’t have a choice. I’ll see you later.— She pulled away and ran, shouting for someone who needed another member.

Your chest burned as you watched her disappear into the crowd. Panic gripped your throat, but Thanos pulled you into a room. The door closed, and you threw yourself against the small window, your eyes frantically scanning the area.

Gunshots.

Screams.

Your heart beat so hard it hurt. Your eyes burned, but Semi wasn’t among the fallen bodies. She made it... of course, she did. Semi is clever. She wouldn’t lose. But that thought wasn’t enough. You needed to see her.

When the door opened, you found her in the crowd. Without hesitation, you ran to her and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

—You’re okay.—Your voice came out shaky, hot tears escaping before you even realized it.

Semi ran her fingers through your hair, her warm, steady presence against you.

—Of course, I am. I’m not leaving you.

You held onto those words.

The platform spun again.

"Three."

—Hey, who’s staying?— Namgyu asked, laughing, as if this was just some game.

—Play rock-paper-scissors!—Thanos suggested, mocking.

You felt a weight in your chest. Something was wrong.

—Stay with us.— Semi reached out to Minsu, confident.

He hesitated for a second. And then made "scissors."

Your stomach churned.

—Minsu, you bastard! He threw scissors!— Namgyu laughed.

—Minsu, you win!— Thanos pulled Minsu into their group, leaving you and Semi behind.

Betrayal.

Your body went cold. Semi still stared at you, stunned, but soon averted her gaze.

There was no time for hate now.

—Let’s go.— You said, pulling her to find someone else. Your heart still burned from the betrayal, but survival took precedence.

You found a lone player and ran to a room. More gunshots. More deaths. But you made it.

The game moved on. Rounds passed. And then...

"Two."

This time it was easy. You and Semi ran together, your hearts pounding, the desperation pushing you into the room. When the door closed, you looked at each other, still breathless.

—It’s over!— you said, and Semi smiled.

She pulled you into a tight hug. You made it, but the game still wasn’t over.

The dormitory’s atmosphere was heavy, filled with death. But the relief of still being alive was the only comfort.

—Let’s vote for the X this time.— You said, and Semi nodded without hesitation.

The voting began. You and Semi pressed the X.

Namgyu and Thanos cursed at you, furious. Semi just raised her middle finger at them.

Minsu also voted for the X. When he got closer to you, Namgyu seemed even angrier.

But you didn’t care. It meant you had more chances to get out this time.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The tie came like a punch.

Your stomach sank.

Now you would have to wait another day.

But what made your body tremble wasn’t the vote. It was that bad feeling, the one that had been there for some time... and was only getting worse.

You and Semi were in bed. She noticed your restlessness and wrapped her arms around you.

—It’s okay, baby. Tomorrow we’ll make it. We’re getting out of here.—You swallowed hard.

—Do you promise?

Semi hesitated for a moment. You both knew it was an empty promise. But still, she tightened you against her and murmured,

—I promise.

Time seemed to drag on. You stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as if the heat of each other was the only real thing in that place.

Then the speakers blared.

"Player 230 eliminated."

Your heart froze.

A fight broke out in the bathroom. Dead. Several.

The players who returned were arguing, accusing each other.

This wasn’t a good sign.

—Tonight... we have to protect ourselves. There’s going to be a fight for sure.—Someone said from a distance.

You exchanged a look with Semi.

For the first time, her fear was visible.

And you knew this night could be the longest of all.

The lights went out, and you hid together, your hearts pounding in unison. But when the fight started, chaos spread like wildfire. Panic roared around you—screams, blows, the smell of blood in the air.

Then, you were surrounded.

Namgyu appeared with another man by his side. Namgyu lunged at Semi, and the other man came straight for you.

You didn’t think, you just reacted. You didn’t know where you got the strength to fight, but you grabbed the first object you found, a shard of glass forgotten on the floor. The adrenaline pulsed through you like thunder as you drove it into the man’s ribs. He let out a guttural groan, stumbling backward. You knew you hadn’t killed him... but the bleeding would do that for you.

But none of that mattered.

Because when you turned around, Semi wasn’t by your side anymore.

Panic struck you like a punch to the stomach.

Your gaze swept the room frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. People were fighting around you, but everything became a blur. You could only think about her.

And then you saw her.

Cornered. Fighting against Namgyu.

Your body froze before charging toward her. You ran, ran like never before, dodging punches, stepping on bodies on the floor. You saw when Minsu threw a bottle from above, trying to hit Namgyu and missed. The glass shattered on the floor.

Semi grabbed one of the shards.

And went for him.

Your chest tightened.

—Semi!—You screamed, but the sound was drowned in the chaos.

You ran faster, each step sinking like quicksand, every fiber of your being screaming for you to make it in time.

But you weren’t fast enough.

Namgyu drove a fork into her.

Time stopped.

The air left your lungs.

Semi let out a strangled sigh before her legs failed her. Her body collapsed to the ground, weak, but he kept driving the fork into her again, and again.

—NO!

Rage exploded inside you like a storm. You charged at him, pushing Namgyu away from her. With trembling hands, you drove the glass into him without hesitation. He roared, fighting to get you off him, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t care.

With a wild move, you tore the fork from his hand and drove it straight into his windpipe.

Blood sprayed hot on your hands.

You only stopped when he stopped fighting.

Your whole body trembled. Your eyes flickered to his lifeless face, but all that mattered was behind you.

Semi.

You spun on your heels and ran to her, falling to your knees beside her. Her blood stained the ground, her pale lips parting in silent attempts to breathe.

—No, no, no...—You murmured, pressing your hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding that flowed endlessly. As if that could keep her there. As if that could stop her from being ripped away from you.

Semi squeezed your hand with the little strength she still had.

When you looked into her eyes, they were filled with pain.

But also filled with love, a love you were losing.

Your chest tightened so hard you couldn’t breathe.

—No... you promised me...—your voice broke, collapsing into desperate sobs. —You promised you’d stay...

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. But you saw in her eyes that she wanted to apologize, and that broke you.

You shook your head frantically, tears burning your skin.

—NO! You can’t leave me! Semi, please... please, I love you, I love you so much... STAY WITH ME!

Your hands held her face, desperate, pleading, begging for something you knew you couldn’t have.

She gave a weak smile.

And then, she let out her final breath.

Her body went limp in your arms.

The world shattered around you.

The air disappeared. Your heart stopped.

A primal sound tore from your throat, a screeching, horrible scream, a pain that words couldn’t contain, a wail for everything that could have been but never would be. You held her against you, sobbing violently, her blood mixing with yours.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

The love of your life was dead.

You didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. You only realized when your body was pulled back.

Minsu.

He held you, wrapped his arms around you, but there was no warmth there.

—It’s okay...—he murmured, but it was distant, an echo lost in the void.

But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again.

You clung to him because you didn’t know what else to do, your body shaking uncontrollably, your sobs tearing your throat, your soul shattering with every second that passed without her.

There was no comfort.

Nothing could comfort you now.

Because deep down, you always knew.

Loving Semi was a losing game.

[mim16s]

I changed a part because the idea I had, I thought about it more and it can be done this way. Get ready, as the next chapter will have a lot of anguish.

Survival in game

Hello everyone, sorry for taking so many days to post an update. I was sick and couldn’t write, but I’ll try to be more active from now on. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

A part of this chapter may be a trigger for some people , for there is heavy violence against the reader and bad memories that will be explained in an upcoming chapter.

Part 3

The atmosphere still carried a heavy tension, even after the game had ended. The imminent threat of death had lessened, but the feeling of unease lingered. You looked at Hyun-ju, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. Words seemed insufficient to express the gratitude for both of you being alive.

— What are you thinking? — Hyun-ju asked, curious. — You've been looking at me for a while... Something on your mind?

You looked away, trying to organize the whirlwind of thoughts, especially during tense situations.

— I'm just happy you're alive. — Your voice came out calm but carried a sincerity that made Hyun-ju smile. You couldn't help but smile back, an almost automatic reaction. — I can't wait to get out of here. Do you think we'll have enough votes to end it for now? — you asked, and she seemed anxious, remaining silent for a moment.

— Maybe we'll leave today — she said softly.

— When we get out, I want you to meet my mom she will love you. I'll cook something nice for us — your voice was enthusiastic, momentarily forgetting the situation and thinking about meeting Hyun-ju in a different place.

— I'd like that — she smiled. — I didn't know you cooked.

— Well, I'm not a chef or anything, but I can make some tasty food.

— It's a deal, then — Hyun-ju said.The conversation was interrupted by a voice from another bed in the dormitory.

— Can I ask you something? — The older woman, with her son beside her, got your attention.

— Sure. — Hyun-ju responded politely, though you noticed a tension in her posture.— When you were playing jegi, why did you ask us not to look?Hyun-ju looked away, staring at the floor for a few seconds. The discomfort was palpable, and you wanted to offer support but didn't know how. Your mind raced, trying to find the right way to encourage her, but the words seemed stuck as usual.

— It's because I... — Hyun-ju began, but the woman interrupted.

— Shy? — the woman asked innocently. — Is that why?

— No, I'm not shy. It's just... I'm not finished...

— Finished what? — The woman's curiosity seemed insatiable.

— Mom, stop. — Yong-sik intervened, holding his mother's arm with evident desperation. — Stop asking so many questions.

— It's okay. — Hyun-ju tried to calm the situation. — It's just... I have more surgeries to go, and when people stare at me, I...You saw Hyun-ju's insecurity. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you slid your hand near hers, trying to convey comfort. Hyun-ju looked at you, and the small connection seemed to give her a bit more strength.

— Surgeries? Oh, so that's an implant, right? — The older woman said, realizing something but still not noticing Hyun-ju's discomfort. — I thought they were big...

She raised her hands as if to touch Hyun-ju's chest, but before she could continue, Yong-sik interrupted again, visibly embarrassed.

— Stop, mom! Don't touch her!

Relief came as more people entered, interrupting the conversation. You felt a little lighter seeing more people had survived, but not everyone felt the same, as you noticed the purple-haired man's group upset that more people had made it.

The masked soldiers entered. The tension returned as they began announcing the game results. Voices of indignation rose as people demanded a recount of the prize. But for you, the money no longer mattered. All you wanted was to leave that place and return to your mom. You looked at Hyun-ju, wishing to see her far from this hell.

As the voting started, your heart raced. Each vote was a stab of anxiety. You watched Yong-sik switch sides, pressing the "O" to continue. His mother's look of disappointment was hard to ignore. Your eyes met Hyun-ju's. Would she vote to continue too? She voted "O" before... No, she promised this would be the last time.

Your turn came. You walked to the panel, each step felt heavier. Without hesitation, you pressed the red "X," determined not to continue. You returned to the "X" side, your eyes fixed on Hyun-ju, waiting for her decision with your heart in your throat.

When her turn came, Hyun-ju walked to the panel. You watched, your body tense, your mind racing. Doubt was written on her face, but then, she pressed "O." The sound of the button being pressed seemed to echo in your head, drowning out every other noise around you. Your breath caught in your throat, and a wave of betrayal washed over you. You had agreed this would be the last game. Why would she lie? Your eyes filled with tears, the pain becoming almost unbearable.

She turned, and your eyes met. When Hyun-ju saw the pain and betrayal in your gaze, the realization of what she'd done hit her hard. She understood that her decision, based on her own needs and struggles, hadn't considered how deeply it would affect you. She had only thought of her debts, her unfinished transition, but now, seeing the pain in your eyes, the weight of her choice seemed unbearable.The voting continued, but everything around you became a blur. The voices of people debating whether to continue the game or not felt distant, almost unreal. The final result appeared: 23 votes difference. The games would continue. You stood up, walking slowly back to your bed. Each step felt drained of energy, each movement a struggle. You felt the eyes on you but had no strength to lift your head. You knew Hyun-ju was watching you, but the weight of disappointment was too heavy to face.

As meals were distributed, you remained still. The hunger had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming emptiness. Then, a pair of hands appeared before you, one holding a piece of bread, the other a liter of milk. You looked up slowly. It was Hyun-ju. She avoided your eyes, her expression filled with sadness.

— I noticed you didn't get any, so... I brought this for you. — Her voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with hesitation. You remained still, unwilling to take the food. — Please, eat something. You need to keep your strength up for tomorrow.

— I don't want to eat. — You murmured, your voice barely audible, reflecting your inner struggle.Hyun-ju placed the food beside you, letting out a heavy sigh.

— I'll leave it here... in case you change your mind. — She hesitated, her voice trembling with emotion. — I'm sorry for lying to you. I...

Before she could continue, Yong-sik and Geum-ja approached, breaking the tense moment.

— But I wasn't the only one who voted to continue. Look! Someone else voted for the circle, see? Look there — Yong-sik pointed at Hyun-ju as he spoke.

— Why did you do it? — Geum-ja asked, her voice filled with disappointment. — After promising we would eat together, why did you change your mind?—She said, mentioning a conversation you had before, where she had invited you to visit her house.—Is it because of your surgeries? Are they that expensive?

Hyun-ju remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. The words seemed trapped, but finally, she spoke, her voice breaking under the weight of her memories.

— Everything was... fine until I revealed who I really am. People thought I was strange, but that wasn't a problem. — Her voice trembled, each word a painful effort. — But after I said I wanted to be a woman and went through my transition... everything fell apart. My mom cried, my dad rejected me. I got fired and lost my friends. I need the surgeries, but I have no job, no money. I felt free, but... my life became unbearably hard.

You lifted your face, the initial anger starting to dissipate in light of her raw words. The weight of what she was carrying became clear. Despite the pain you felt, you began to understand. Hyun-ju wasn't just fighting for money, but for her own survival and dignity.

— Oh my... and what did you do for work? — Geum-ja asked, now with a softness in her voice.

�� I was a soldier. — Hyun-ju replied, the weight of the revelation making Yong-sik's mouth fall open in surprise. You were a bit surprised, seeing the sweet woman Hyun-ju is, that job hadn't crossed your mind, but remembering how she acted in the game and how she handled the game's environment kind of made sense.

— And what will you do when you get out of here? — Geum-ja asked curiously.

— I'm going to Thailand. — The determination in her voice was clear, conveying hope. — I'll play one more game, have the surgeries there, buy a house... and start a new life.

Your heart ached. Thailand? She would go so far away? Maybe you'd never see her again.

— I've been to Thailand. — Yong-sik said, trying to lighten the mood. — There are many people like Hyun-ju there, you know? Seriously, and many are much slimmer and prettier than a lot of women I've seen. It's amazing.

— They say people there are much prettier. — Hyun-ju said.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to speak. Your voice came out trembling but full of sincerity.

— You're beautiful. It was the first thing I thought when I saw you.

Hyun-ju lifted her gaze, happy that you spoke to her and by your words, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Your words hit her with a force she didn't expect. After everything she'd been through, hearing that from you was like a balm to her soul. She held back her tears, feeling the warmth of your words filling the emptiness in her heart. For the first time in a long time, she felt seen, not as a freak, but as who she truly was.

___

The time for lights out was approaching, and a growing discomfort took hold of you. You felt a penetrating gaze that made your skin prickle, as if something invisible was pressing down on you. Your eyes scanned the room until they found the man with purple hair. He was staring at you with an almost suffocating intensity, his eyes fixed on you in a way that seemed to strip you bare, layer by layer. It was as if he were piercing through all your barriers with a single look.

Your heart raced, and the air seemed heavier. You tried to look away, thinking that maybe if you did, he would stop staring at you that way.

— Can we talk? — Hyun-ju's voice sounded beside you, pulling you back to reality. You turned to her, now alone as the woman and her son had left. You still felt the weight of that gaze on your back. The hairs on your arms stood on end, as if sensing something bad.

— Yes, of course. — Your voice came out more tense than you intended. You tried to focus on Hyun-ju, but the discomfort persisted, like a constant shadow.Hyun-ju took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor.

— I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made promises I couldn't keep. I was wrong, and I'm sorry.

You observed her posture, visibly dejected.

— Hyun-ju, I understand that you're seeking your happiness. But I won't lie, your actions hurt me. I don't want to continue in this game, but I also can't force you to leave. I can't completely judge you because I don't face the same challenges you do. But I understand the pain of people distancing themselves.You paused, searching for the right words. — I've never had many friends. In school, the few I managed to make distanced themselves, afraid of also becoming targets of bullying, like I was. I know what it's like to feel empty.Hyun-ju raised her eyes, slightly widened, speechless.

— I voted to stay, but I will protect you. I made a promise to myself and I won't break it. As long as I breathe, I'll be by your side. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you and I promise this will be the last time I vote to continue..

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders.

— Alright. Just... please, don't lie again. I don't like lies.

O silêncio que se seguiu foi pesado, mas trouxe uma estranha sensação de alívio, como se ambos estivessem começando a se entender, apesar de tudo. Você examinou a sala com os olhos até encontrar o homem de cabelo roxo. Ele estava observando você com uma intensidade quase esmagadora, perfurando cada camada do seu ser, ele mencionou um homem parado ao lado dele, que olhou para você e então riu junto com ele.

As luzes finalmente se apagaram, e você se virou na cama, tentando em vão encontrar o sono. A escuridão deveria ter trazido alívio, mas o pensamento do jogo mortal esperando por você na manhã seguinte não o deixaria em paz. A ansiedade apertou sua garganta, tornando cada respiração mais difícil. E agora, a pressão em sua bexiga começou a atormentá-lo. Você não conseguiria esperar até o amanhecer. Então, silenciosamente, você se levantou, tentando não acordar ninguém, mas quando estava prestes a sair, sua mão foi agarrada.

— Where are you going? — Hyun-ju asked, still sleepy, blinking slowly. She woke up as soon as your feet hit the floor, as if she were connected to you. She almost laughed, but the weight of the night didn’t allow it.

— I need to go to the bathroom — you whispered, trying not to disturb anyone else.

— I’ll go with you. It could be dangerous — Hyun-ju replied, getting up, but you interrupted her.

— It’s okay, go back to sleep. Nothing will happen. I’ll just go to the bathroom and come back quickly — you tried to reassure her. She hesitated at first but eventually nodded, still reluctant.

Hyun-ju saw you walking toward the bathroom door. She noticed the brief exchange with the guard before you entered, and then, a few minutes later, She saw two more people getting up to go to the bathroom. A bad feeling settled in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just her mind exaggerating, she thought.

Inside the bathroom, time seemed to crawl. The sound of water running was a constant in your mind. Then, you felt, cold and relentless, the presence of someone behind you. Your hairs stood up instantly.

— I’ve waited so long to find you alone, but that friend of yours never leaves your side. It was irritating — the man’s voice sounded low and threatening. You turned and saw him, the man who had been watching you earlier. Panic spread quickly through your body, but you tried to remain calm. Something was wrong, and this shouldn’t be happening.

— This is the women’s bathroom. You shouldn’t be here — you said, stepping as far away from him as possible. But he didn’t seem to care.

— Meu amigo e eu queremos mais votos para continuar jogando, então esse "x" ali precisa sair — disse Namgyu, que surgiu por trás do homem de cabelos roxos pressionando o dedo contra o tecido, a força causando uma leve ardência na pele.

— I just want to leave. Accept that — you replied, your tone firm but tense, trying to assert your opinion.— Oh, look at that, seems like we've got a brave one here — Thanos mocked, laughing.

— Do we need to teach this bitch a lesson so she learns some manners, man? — Namgyu asked, and Thanos grinned, stepping closer. His imposing figure became even more intimidating as he shoved you hard. You stumbled, nearly falling, fear growing in your eyes.

— Please, stop this. Just let me go — you pleaded, your voice trembling.

— Are you going to vote to keep playing the next game? — he asked, getting no response. He chuckled, raising his hand and delivering a hard slap. You fell to the ground, your face burning with a red mark as tears streamed down.

— I bet after this lesson, you'll change your mind — Namgyu said, kicking your stomach. The pain made you double over, powerless against their violence. Tears rolled down as you tried to defend yourself, but it was futile. The pain and humiliation brought back memories of your teenage years, of bullying, of cruel laughter.Suddenly, the kicking stopped. When you opened your eyes, you saw Hyun-ju, delivering precise blows. Namgyu and Thanos tried to fight back, but it was useless. She was relentless, only stopping when they were beaten and scared enough not to try anything else. They fled, leaving the bathroom in a panic

Your body was shaking, your head was spinning, and you just wanted to disappear. The sensation was unbearable. The memories of bullying from years ago flooded back, the recollection of being cornered behind the school while your classmates beat you. What Namgyu and Thanos did was the breaking point. You felt utterly out of control.

You hit your head against the wall, trying to turn the psychological pain into physical pain, something more bearable. But soon, you felt something different. A gentle hand held your head, but you still couldn’t stop. Your movements seemed frantic, and she held you with a little more force, interrupting the frantic rhythm of your head against the wall and your hand. When you looked, you saw Hyun-ju in front of you, her eyes worried, but her voice still seemed distant, muffled by the pain.

— It’s okay, not here anymore, it’s me. It’s over, it’s okay — Hyun-ju said, trying to calm you down. Her voice still seemed distant, but her presence was everything you needed at that moment.

She hugged you, holding you tightly, whispering words of comfort as her tears soaked your shoulder. But there was no peace. The weight of it all was still on you, and the feeling of helplessness continued to consume you. Your mind was in a dark place, and every word from Hyun-ju seemed to echo as if it were another reality, one you couldn’t reach. You tried to calm down, but you couldn’t. Your breathing was fast, your mind racing, your body paralyzed by anxiety.You felt your body slowly relaxing, but the feeling of helplessness didn’t go away. Your voice was weak when you spoke.

— I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to go home... — Your voice came out dragged, weak, as if each word was a monumental effort.Hyun-ju hugged you tighter, as if she could protect you from all of that, from everything that had happened and was still happening. But the pain, the guilt, she couldn’t dissipate the regret stamped on her face.

— Eu sei... Me desculpe... — ela disse, a culpa pesada em suas palavras. Pensamentos de que se ela não tivesse votado naquele círculo, isso nunca teria acontecido. Se ela tivesse insistido em ir com você ao banheiro, Thanos e Namgyu nunca teriam tido a chance de se aproximar de você. Ela se culpava, mas você não conseguia mais pensar no que poderia ter sido; tudo parecia irrelevante. Não importava o que poderia ter sido, o que poderia ter mudado. A dor estava aqui agora, e nada mais fazia sentido. Você se entregou à dor, chorando contra ela enquanto ela te cobria com sua jaqueta, tentando te aquecer, te cobrir, te proteger, mesmo que ela não soubesse se era possível.

Hyun-ju tried to stop you from hurting yourself, holding your hands that were scratching, trying to substitute the head hits, but it was as if you were trapped in an endless cycle. She held you tighter, her hands now trying to hold you with all the energy she had, as if she could stop the pain from continuing. Her words of comfort came in a constant flow, but you could hardly hear them. All you could feel was the agony inside you.

— I don’t know what else to do... — Hyun-ju murmured to herself, her voice cracking with frustration, with the despair of not being able to help you.

She felt her own impotence, felt like she was failing you in every possible way. Her face was pale, silent tears falling down her face as well. She didn’t know what else to do, but she kept trying, insisting on holding you as if it were possible to bring you back to your body, she didn’t know what else to do, but she wouldn’t leave you alone. She didn’t want you to go through this without someone by your side. Time seemed to stretch, as if the crisis would never end, and she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to bear seeing you like this.She whispered, repeatedly, almost pleading.

— I’m here... Please, listen to me... You’re not alone... I’m here... I won’t leave you...