#This would be like if your dog always barked before a storm rolled in and you were like damn... my dog might be evil...

[maphel-n-doodles]

pokemon posting in the year of 2024

[invincibledc]

|| WHEN UNCLE!READER GETS SICK AND THE BATBOYS HEAR ABOUT IT ||

Coughing, sneezing, raspy voice, achy body. Oh dear, you got a cold. Shaking like a damn leaf on a windy day, you called your brother. Bruce immediately picks up the phone, you knew he was in the bat cave. Hearing the bat-computer keys and talking. You could only roll your eyes as you talked to him. “Can’t make it. I’m sick” you said. He responded it with a “sick? Stay home. I’ll send Alfred to make you some soup Y/N.” You could only nod before coughing a storm up. If you could see your brother now, he would be frowning with concern.

“It’s not….deadly is it?” “What?! Bruce, no. It’s a cold. Yknow how I get.” You said closing your eyes about to hang up and rest. Bruce only sighed for the other side of the phone. “Alright.” “And Bruce.” “Yeah?” “DONT let the boys know I’m sick. Yknow how they get when I’m sick…” sadly they found out. You didn’t know how or when. But of course you knew who found out first.

Tim found out first, first because you didn’t show to the manor on the daily time you always do. Tim notice Alfred picking up your favorite soup you eat when sick when you use to live here at the manor when he was Robin. Tim frowned, you’re sick. You’re sick, alone, withering away in bed. What kind of nephew would he be if his dear uncle is not with company. So with that, he grabbed some doctor gloves, a face mask, hand sanitizer and Lysol. He was prepared. When Alfred went away to secure the packed soup, Tim took the packed up soup and ran out the door to drive to your house.

Jason surprisingly was the second to find out. He lives with you, like a roommate kinda of thing? So why in the world would he be second? Because he was too busy bleeding out in the manor after a fight and he had to stay in the same manor over night before you had gotten sick. Jason had seen Tim run out the door when he came down the stairs. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he also sen that the packed soup was the kind of soup you ate only if you were sick or terribly hungry. But since he knew you weren’t in the manor, he went with the former and immediately dressed up to go see his sick uncle.

Damian, he always knows when something is going on. But he definitely knows when something is going on when he sees his two brothers leave the manor. “Uncle’s sick Titus. Drake has his favorite soup and Todd has his favorite book. Pathetic, they forgot uncle’s heated up blanket.” Damian says with a smirk. Certainly holding it as Titus barks at his owner. “Guess we will pay my uncle a visit, I’ll see you later.” The brown skinned boy said as he pats his beloved dog. Leaving the manor with a shortcut to your house.

Dick was last, and was mad knowing that no one informed him that you were sick! Like cmon, he’s the first Robin and he had more of a bond with you when he was little! So how could his brothers leave him in the dust like that! He immediately got off work and speeded over to your house. He got some of your snacks, a “get well soon” card. And just some flowers, it was perfect. Perfect for the “favorite” nephew of course.

Tim was first at your door and entered using a copy of your spare key, then Jason shoulder rushed Tim like a football player, Damian was going through your window, and dick…dick just stood there watching his little brothers cause havoc. The soup was saved by Damian sliding to catch it, Tim almost had a heart attack as Jason just glares at all the brothers in his “home.”

Damian smirks, ready to get the “best nephew” award by handing you the soup you desire when sick. That was before Jason picked him like a stray cat. “What the hell you’re doing here demon?” “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Helping uncle.” Damian says with a glare. Dick takes Damian out of Jason’s bear grip and then helps Tim up. “Well, arguing isn’t going to help. Let’s just see how unc is doing guys.” All the boys nod in agreement, going inside your room. Tim still looks like a doctor so he was the last one in.

You were surprised, very surprised to see all four of your brother’s kids and your nephews at your house smiling as if they didn’t just break in. You heard them, but you thought you were just hallucinating. Damian gave you the still hot and ready soup on your night stand and your blanket. He wanted to get on your bed and lay with you, but you shook your head no. Not wanting to get him sick. Jason just sat down in a chair you have in your room, watching you closely like a hawk in case something happens. Tim was taking your temperature, asking you about the medicine you have taken. Basically a worried baby worried for his poor “old” uncle. Dick just lays the basket of things he bought for you. Smirking as he made a comment about how he is obviously the “favorite” nephew. That made everyone mad, cue to loud arguing and Damian ready to jump his brother.

As much as the boys loved you, they acted as if you were on your death bed. Which made you kinda mad, but at least they care for you a lot. But the constant arguing was not helping you as headaches started to attack. You coughed loudly as you felt your eyes droop more. You hated being sick, but you mostly hated your peace being ruined.

“Out! Out now!” You yelled with a raspy voice, all the boys stop. Frowning before leaving, except for Jason who stood there with crossed arms. “I live here unc…” you glare before throwing a box of tissues at your buffed up nephew who didn’t seem phased at all. “Not as of now mister, you stay at the manor or whatever you go until I get better.” Jason stayed silent before leaving. Not before putting a bottled up medicine by your bed, with a small note that says “get better.”

[froggiewrites]

hey, congrats on 100 followers! i love the way you write zoro and sanji and the final chapter of "picture you" has me craving some zoro x reader x sanji smut. could we maybe get a taste of that, please? 🙏

I've been thinking about writing a threesome for Sanji and Zoro since I finished Picture You, but I was nervous to try it, so thank you for giving me an excuse to push myself out of my comfort zone a bit 😊 I hope you enjoy it!

Two for One

Pairing: Zoro x Reader x Sanji

NSFW

Summary: Sanji and Zoro have been fighting even worse than usual lately for reasons beyond your comprehension, and everyone else is growing sick of it. Once you finally figure out why, you decide you three are all going to solve this together. Warnings: Smut, Clueless Reader, Canon Typical Zosan Fighting, Praise Kink (if you squint) Word Count: 3.2k

“Shut the hell up, mosshead!”

“Only if you get out of my goddamn face, you damn cook!”

Your crewmates were moments away from tearing each other’s throats out. They always were, of course, but the tension had grown so thick lately it was almost hard to breathe in the same room as them. You have no idea what caused them to turn into rabid dogs, constantly barking in your ears, but it was absolutely unbearable.

“Will you two stop?” Nami smacks them both softly upside the head, glaring harshly. “Don’t make this our problem. Look around, you two. Look at what you’re doing.” There’s something behind her words you can’t quite make out, and both of their gazes turn specifically to you, taking in your tense shoulders and the way you’ve begun to hunch in on yourself a bit. The tension eases slightly as they both slump a little with shame, before Sanji quickly grabs your hands.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. The brute and I will stop now. “

“Brute?” Zoro snaps. “You little–” He looks at your face before stopping, letting out a huff, and storming out.

Sanji reluctantly lets go of your hands when a timer goes off in the distance. “Well, duty calls, angel.” He skitters off into the kitchen.

The rest of the crew lets out a relieved sigh. Brook places a skeletal hand on your shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

“What?”

Robin and Franky chuckle, like this is a joke you aren’t in on, and Nami sighs. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what exactly?”

“Oh my god.” She sighs, resting her head in her hands. Everyone else laughs again, slowly filing out and patting her on the back, silently designating her with the task of explaining.

“What is it? What don’t I know?”

“The reason they’ve been fighting. You haven’t noticed a pattern at all?”

You think back to all of the most recent arguments you’ve witnessed, and you can’t think of a single thing that connects them. One about who was more handsome, one over who was stronger, and, strangely, one over who was better at fishing, which is something you didn’t think either of them were particularly invested in. “They’re the same stupid fights they’ve always been, just worse.”

“Not…exactly. Think harder. Have you walked in on any fights recently? Or have they always started when you’re there?”

You’ve been unfortunate enough to witness the rising tension firsthand every time recently. “I’ve been there for all of them. It’s sucked.”

“So you’ve been there for every single one.”

“Well I don’t know if they’ve fought when I’m not around. I’m not there.”

She sighs deeply. “I–okay. That’s fair actually. If I told you they barely ever fought when you weren’t around, would that help at all?”

You narrow your eyes, puffing out your cheeks slightly in thought. “It’s…my fault.”

“Yes?”

“They’re…mad at me.”

“Wait–”

“They hate me.”

“No! Oh my god. They’re fighting over you. Because they’re in love with you.”

Your eyes widen, jaw going slack against your will. “What?”

“You really never noticed? Why do you think Sanji insists on dragging you to the kitchen and slowly rolling up his sleeves directly in front of you, and constantly unbuttoning his top button? Or why Zoro insists on training in front of you, or doing push ups with you on his back?”

You pout. “They’re my friends and they wanna spend time with me?”

Nami hesitates at that. “Okay, um. Yes. That too. But they only do it with you. Sanji hates letting other people into the kitchen that much. And Zoro hates being bothered when he’s training. They’re trying to show off. They want to show off how strong and cool they are, because they want you to fall at their feet and beg to have sex with them.” She sees your eyes dim a bit at that, so she quickly corrects. “They want you to like them, is the point. I mean they definitely also want the sex, but really they just want you, and the idea of the other one getting you first pisses them off.”

You blink. “Oh.” You shift, eyes narrowing in thought. “So…they want to have sex with me.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

You think for a moment, wondering how you could possibly choose between the two of them. Your dear friends, your dear, wonderful, handsome, sexy friends. “What do I do now?”

“You pick one, I guess.” Nami sees the frown on your face, and you can see the realization sink in. “Or…you don’t?”

“Do you think they’d be okay with that?”

“For anyone else? No, probably not. I think their pride would get in the way. But for you?” She smirks. “I think they’d do anything you wanted, and they wouldn’t even have to think for a single second about it.”

“I wouldn’t want to push them into anything they’re uncomfortable with.”

“You think they of all people could be pushed into anything they’re uncomfortable with?” She laughs. “I promise you, they wouldn’t. Just go ask. I think you’ll be happy with their response. And the rest of us won’t have to listen to their stupid dick measuring contests anymore.”

You leave the kitchen, steps lighter and filled with determination. Your extremely hot and wonderful friends want you, and you want them. You have great things ahead of you.

Zoro is up in the crow’s nest training, shirtless and sweating, which seems to be his default state. He sees you out of the corner of his eyes, and his next slash is particularly strong and dramatic. He even looks back to see how you react. How did you not notice the way his eyes lingered on you before?

“Hey Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you meet me in my room in about an hour? I need to talk to you.”

His eyes absolutely light up, even if his face remains neutral. “Hm? Yeah, sure, I can do that.” When he thinks you aren’t looking, he has the smuggest smirk you’ve ever seen on his face. He thinks he’s won. And he has, in a way.

You wander to find Sanji in the kitchen next. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?” He gives you an affectionate smile before returning his attention back to the onions he’s chopping.

“Can you meet me in my room in an hour? I have something important to talk to you about.”

He doesn’t try to hide the way he lights up, giving you a heartstopping smile. “Of course, angel! I won’t keep you waiting!” He starts humming a love song as you leave, affection written clearly on his face.

And then you wait. A few times you wonder if this is a bad idea, if it will make them hate you, but you reassure yourself that Nami would have told you if it would fail. She wouldn’t let you walk into a trap like that. You bounce your leg anxiously as you wait for your friends to arrive.

Sanji is first, of course. He shows up exactly an hour from when you talked, down to the second, an offering of your favorite drink in hand. “Hello, darling. I brought something for you!” His smile is so excited you almost feel bad for not letting him know the rest.

“Thank you, Sanji. That’s so sweet.” You take it gladly, taking a grateful sip and letting the flavor wash over you.

“So what did you want to talk about?” He’s leaning closer, longing clear on his face, but you hold strong instead of kissing him senseless like you want to.

“I can’t start until we’re all here.”

“We? All?”

Zoro opens the door nearly immediately after, joy clear on his face before it sours at the sight of Sanji. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Darling, why is this bastard interrupting?” Sanji is glaring at him, putting himself between you two as though he’s protecting you.

You set your drink down on a table before regarding both of them. “I need to talk to both of you. …If you’re okay with that.”

They regard each other a moment before humming in affirmation, looking at you expectantly.

“So I found out recently that you guys are…fond of me.”

They nod.

“And I’m fond of both of you.”

Another nod.

“And I thought that…maybe…we could all share in that fondness. Together. At the same time.”

“You want a threesome?” Zoro is straight to the point.

“Well, more than one, ideally.” He laughs, while Sanji sits in silence, brow furrowed in thought. You continue, unable to stop yourself in your anxiety. “I like you guys a lot, and I was hoping you’d be okay with this, but I understand if you aren’t–”

“I’m okay with it.” Sanji speaks up with a firmness you didn’t expect. You expected an argument, maybe reluctant agreement, but he seems to have no reservations. “Whatever you want, I’ll do. Simple as that.”

“I don’t want this if you don’t, though.”

“I do want this.” His cheeks turn a little pink. “The thought is…not terrible.”

“I’m also down.” Zoro immediately starts approaching. “So we should start now, right? Break this whole thing in?”

You freeze for a moment, a deer in headlights. You really expected at least a little arguing. “So you guys are really okay with it?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

“Shit. Um, okay. I wasn’t ready for this to go well. Uh, let’s start then. I guess.”

“Yes ma’am!” Sanji is on you before you can even process he’s moved, hands hooking under your thighs and pulling you against him. He kisses you hard, but before you can sink in and enjoy, he’s flipped you around to face Zoro. “Let’s christen this voyage, huh?”

Zoro scoffs. “That was so cheesy.” Even with his annoyed grumble, he seems pretty thrilled. He captures your mouth with his own, rough and demanding. His lips are chapped, and he quickly slides his tongue across your lips, demanding they open. You do so gladly, allowing his entrance, and you’re quickly overwhelmed by the sensation of Zoro taking what he wants from you as Sanji grinds against you, hands wandering and squeezing everything they find. He gropes your breasts, your thighs, before eventually landing on your clothed cunt, making you gasp into Zoro’s mouth.

“God, darling, you feel just as wonderful as I imagined.” Sanji’s voice is dripping with affection and lust as he squeezes you again. “So soft, so perfect. Absolutely made for us.”

Zoro parts from you just to comment. “You really are,” he mutters, squeezing your tits. “Absolutely perfect. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

Sanji makes a soft tsk. “Not ruin. You could never ruin such perfection.”

“Watch me.”

Zoro quickly sheds you of your top and bra, leaving your tits on display for the two of them. They both pause in their movements a moment, just quietly admiring your body, before their hands fight over who gets to feel you first. Sanji ends up with your right breast and Zoro ends up with your left as they both squeeze and prod however they want. When Zoro gives a particularly hard squeeze to your nipple you can’t help but whine, rolling your head forward into his shoulder. This makes you miss the shit-eating grin he gives Sanji, but the other man notices it immediately. In response, he shoves his hands down your pants, rougher than he would normally be, quickly finding your clit to rub.

“Oh god,” you cry, muffled by the fabric of Zoro’s shirt.

“Hear that, mosshead? That was all me.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro’s voice is cocky as he rolls your breast in his fingers again, making you moan. “I’d say that was me.”

“You two are insufferable,” you murmur.

“You think?” They chorus, and you realize that there’s always one thing they can agree on: a common enemy. Quickly their hands start to work in unison instead of opposition, Zoro always squeezing whenever Sanji takes a break and vice versa. They don’t allow you a single moment of peace, always pushing you closer and closer to the brink, closer and closer to losing yourself, before they pull back, not quite ready to give you your pleasure quite yet.

You don’t remember losing your pants. You were too focused on the feeling of Sanji���s bare erection pressed against your ass, the feeling of his warmth against your back, the sight of Zoro’s scarred chest and perfect cock right before your face. Sanji pushes you down so you’re eye level with it as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re not going to go easy on you.”

“Don’t listen to him, angel. We’d never be rougher than you can take.” You can’t help but notice the implication that there is a level of roughness you can take, but you don’t voice the thought, left silent by the heat of their bodies and the tension in the room. You’re practically drooling at this point for somebody, anybody to fill one of your waiting holes.

“Please,” you mutter, unsure exactly what you’re asking for, or from who you want it. You just want them, all of them, and they’re more than happy to provide.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just relax. We’ll take care of you.” Zoro’s voice is gentler than you’d expect when brushes his tip against your mouth. His hand tangles itself in your hair, ready to guide you forward, but he’s careful not to pull too hard.

“We’re here for you, always.” Sanji’s voice is gentle as well, but his hands on your thighs are rougher than you’d expect. You had always imagined him a tender lover, treating you as though you’re made of glass, but it seems the spirit of competition has made his hold a little tighter. You’re excited to see if it makes any other parts of him rougher as well.

They thrust in at the same time. Zoro fills your throat slowly but steadily, and Sanji fills your hole in a single thrust, pushing you forward into Zoro. You moan around him, and he shivers at the feeling of the vibrations. He pets your head affectionately, muttering quietly, “That’s it, sunshine. Just like that.”

“Oh god angel, you’re even more perfect than I imagined.” Sanji relishes in the feeling of bottoming out in you, in your warmth and wetness. He allows his eyes to close for a moment, head thrown back with pleasure, before he allows his hands to settle on your hips and prepares himself for the job ahead.

They make eye contact, sharing a single nod before they begin to move without mercy.

You expect Zoro to demolish your throat without hesitation, but his movements are slow and precise. You expect Sanji to take his time enjoying you, but his thrusts are quick and deep, relishing in the feeling of you. You wonder if having them together has evened them out, bringing them to a center between Zoro’s harshness and Sanji’s carefulness that allows them both to lose themselves a bit, treating you less like a toy or glass and more like another person who’s simply thrilled to participate.

As you move, Sanji squeezes your hips just firm enough to keep you still without risking bruising your skin. He leans down, pressing warm kisses to your back, muttering praising words, yes and more and just like that, angel against your skin. Zoro is also whispering to you, as one hand rests in your hair and the other rests on the back of your neck possessively. His words are less obviously worshiping but no less affectionate, even as he whispers more and yes, good girl and fuck to nobody in particular. You close your eyes, soaking in the words of the men against you, absorbing their warmth and affection and need. You don’t think you’ve ever heard their voices turn more desperate or wanting than they are right now.

Sanji gives one particularly hard thrust, pushing you further up Zoro’s cock until your nose is resting in his pubic hair, and they both give a deep moan in unison.

“Yes!”

“God, there you go!”

You honestly couldn’t tell who said what at this point, too lost in the sensation of it all.

As their thrusts grow rougher and more sloppy, Zoro’s hand starts to grip your hair tighter, pulling in a way that makes you keen. Sanji slides one of his hands from your hip to your clit, rubbing small precise circles around the bud. You thrust your hips slightly when he does, and you can hear him chuckle. “Almost there, darling. Just a little more.”

Zoro cums first, thrusting deep into your throat and holding you there as he cums in your mouth, inadvertently forcing you to swallow it all. He gives a few small thrusts into your mouth, fully emptying himself, before he pulls out. You manage to ground yourself for long enough to look him in the eye and open your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue, showing him not a single drop was wasted. He groans, lust clear on his face.

You expect Sanji to be second as his thrusts grow more erratic, but then you hear his soft whispers. “So close, angel. Just a little more. Together now.” His finger on your clit is relentless, calluses rubbing you in all the right ways. It’s only once you let out a high pitched moan, tightening around him, that he allows himself to release into you, painting your insides white. You clench around him, and he leans forward, biting gently into your shoulder, just enough to ground himself. He continues thrusting into you and giving attention to your clit until he’s sure you’re finished, before he finally pulls out, cum leaking from your cunt onto the wooden floor.

You’re about ready to collapse, but before you can, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, guiding you to your bed. “You did great,” Zoro murmurs softly, resting your head against your pillows. Sanji disappears for a moment before reappearing with a damp washcloth, which he uses to lovingly clean you up and erase any trace of the act other than the bite mark on your shoulder and cum inside of you.

“Did you like that?” You murmur sleepily. You know they did, felt it firsthand, but you still feel the need to confirm.

“More than you could ever know,” Sanji whispers tenderly. He then grows a vicious smirk. “And it felt wonderful to be the first one to make you cum, darling. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, with or without current company.”

Zoro scoffs. “You may have made her cum first but I’ll make her cum faster next time, just you watch.”

“In your dreams, mosshead. Though I guess you do know something about cumming fast.”

“Watch yourself, cook.”

You laugh as you realize this didn’t solve any of the arguments your crew thought it would. That’s alright, though. You didn’t mind. They could fight over you any day.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

No Hands

pairing: joel miller x wife y/n

warnings:NSFW, 18+

It had been a hard week, longer hours than usual, fewer jobs coming in, and the Texas heat bearing down on Joel like a punishment. He’d been working overtime helping Tommy clear out storm debris from an old property outside of town. His hands were sore, his shoulders tight, and even the calluses on his palms ached.

You had noticed the way he grunted more than usual getting out of his truck. The way he winced when stretching, or how quiet he’d been at dinner the night before. He wasn’t one to complain. Ever. That’s why you knew he was worn thin.

So you planned something.

You’d been thinking about it all day what to wear, what wine to chill, what playlist to put on. You lit a few candles around the room, dimmed the lights, and put on your favorite sheer black lingerie the one he always paused to admire, even when he was in a hurry. You remembered the way his pupils would blow wide every time you wore it, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

The heels were a bonus. You’d only ever worn them once before on your anniversary and Joel hadn’t stopped talking about them since.

When you heard the familiar rattle of his old truck pulling into the drive, your heart skipped. You took a slow breath, steadying yourself, ready to give him the welcome he deserved.

The door creaked open with a low groan, and Joel Miller stepped inside, muscles aching and head heavy from a long day. His flannel shirt clung to his frame, damp with sweat and dust from hauling gear and digging out trenches all afternoon. He kicked off his boots at the door, expecting silence maybe the hum of the fridge or the low bark of the neighbor’s dog outside.

But what he didn’t expect… was you.

“Hi, baby.”

You were leaning against the entryway to the living room, one leg crossed in front of the other, wearing his favorite lingerie the black lace one with the sheer panels that hugged every curve like it was sewn for you. His eyes immediately dropped to the heels that made your legs look like sin incarnate, then up to the glass of red wine you swirled in your hand.

Joel’s mouth went dry.

“Jesus,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. His rough hand scrubbed over his beard as his eyes roamed you from head to toe. “You tryna kill me?”

You smirked. “Not yet.”

With a slow step, you walked toward him, handing him the glass of wine. Your fingers brushed his, and his calloused thumb lingered on the back of your hand before you pulled away.

“I know today was rough,” you said softly, voice sweet as syrup. “Thought I’d help you unwind.”

Joel blinked at you, still stunned, as you took the glass from his hand and set it on the coffee table. Then, with a little tap to his chest, you pushed him toward the couch.

He didn’t resist.

“Music or no music?” you asked, already grabbing the remote.

“…Music,” he muttered, voice hoarse with anticipation.

You chose a slow, sensual beat one with heavy bass and teasing rhythms that practically begged for mischief. As it filled the room, you turned to him with dark eyes and a coy smile, straddling his lap without warning.

Joel inhaled sharply as you settled against him. The heat of you, the feel of the lace against his jeans it lit every nerve ending in his body.

“You’re not playin’ fair,” he growled, hands twitching at his sides.

You leaned close to his ear, your breath warm. “No hands, baby. Just watch.”

And with that, you began to move.

Your hips rolled slow and deliberate, grinding down against his lap with the rhythm of the song, your hands trailing up your own body, down your sides, teasing him without a single touch. Joel’s head dropped back against the couch, a low groan tumbling from his throat as you worked him up relentless, precise, torturously slow.

He was already hard, the friction of your body making it nearly unbearable. His fingers dug into the couch cushions like anchors, trying to keep from grabbing you.

“You look so good like this,” you murmured, sliding your body up and down his, your lips just grazing his jawline. “So tense, baby. Let go for me.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. His breathing turned ragged, your rhythm never faltering. And when you leaned forward just a little more your chest pressed to his, your hips circling with perfect pressure it tipped him over the edge.

Joel’s chest rose and fell beneath you, his hands clenched white-knuckled at his sides as you continued to grind slowly on his lap, still in control, still commanding every drop of his attention.

You circled your hips again, right against the thick press of him beneath his jeans, and he let out a strangled moan.

“Jesus… sweetheart…”

You leaned down, brushing your lips along his jaw, whispering, “Still can’t touch me.”

He groaned, his eyes screwed shut, neck tight with restraint.

“I swear to God,” he breathed. “You keep movin’ like that, and I’m..”

You rolled your hips again, this time grinding just right slow and deep and his body jerked beneath you. He let out a harsh exhale, his thighs tensing as the pleasure hit hard.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Then do it,” you murmured, biting your lip. “Let go for me, baby.”

That was all it took.

He came, hard, with a guttural moan and his head thrown back. You felt it felt the sharp, pulsing twitch of him through his jeans beneath you, the heat of it, even through the fabric.

His body trembled with the force of it, and you stayed right there, hips still moving, teasing him through every wave of release.

He finally exhaled, utterly spent.

But then… he looked at you with that low, dark fire still burning in his eyes.

“Get over here,” he growled, sitting up in one swift motion. His hands gripped your thighs, dragging you tight against him. “You think I’m done? After that? Darlin��…”

He reached down, unzipping his jeans with rough, urgent fingers. He was still hard somehow thick and glistening, flushed from release but begging for more.

You gasped as he pulled the lace of your panties aside, eyes locked with yours.

“Joel..”

He didn’t give you time to finish.

With a sharp roll of his hips, he sank inside you in one deep, heated thrust. Your head dropped to his shoulder as you let out a broken moan, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Fuck,” he hissed, burying himself to the hilt. “You’re so wet, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”

You rocked your hips down, feeling how perfectly he filled you, how deep he hit every time you moved. He was thick, still pulsing, and the stretch made your legs shake.

Joel groaned again, hands gripping your hips now no more rules. He guided you up and down, forcing you to take every inch.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Ridin’ me like that. Drippin’ all over my cock, even after I just came.”

You whimpered, gripping his shoulders for balance, meeting every thrust with your own.

“Joel..God..feels so good..”

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered, kissing along your throat. “You’re takin’ me so good. Gonna make you cum just like this. Wanna feel you squeeze me while I’m deep inside you.”

He angled his hips just right, and you cried out overstimulated and needy, pleasure building fast.

Your climax hit like lightning sharp, shaking, unstoppable. You clenched tight around him, trembling, sobbing his name into his neck as he held you through it.

And then Joel followed.

He let out a strangled moan as he buried himself deep and spilled inside you, the heat of it warm and perfect. He stayed there, breathless and shaking, his arms wrapped tightly around your back.

“Christ, baby…” he murmured into your hair. “That was… goddamn.”

You nodded against his chest, heart pounding, still wrapped around him.

He kissed your temple, his voice rough and sweet.

“You just ride me into next week, huh?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth as he came down, breath still shaky.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel panted, finally opening his eyes. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”

You grinned. “Then I’ll make sure you die happy.”

Joel was still catching his breath when you slowly lifted yourself off his lap, your body flushed, skin glowing from the heat between you. He looked up at you like he’d just seen heaven his chest rising and falling, his hands finally free to touch, and they did. He reached out, palms sliding up the backs of your thighs as he pulled you gently closer again.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” Joel said, voice thick with awe and hunger. “Didn’t even touch me… and you made me lose my damn mind.”

You gave a playful hum as you bent down to kiss him, your lips soft and slow against his. “That was the idea.”

Joel kissed you back, harder this time, like he was claiming every second he missed while you’d been teasing him. When he finally pulled back, he let out a breathless laugh and cupped your face in both hands.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, his voice warm and gravelly. “Let’s get you in that tub. You earned it.”

You giggled softly as Joel scooped you up, bridal-style, one arm under your thighs and the other around your back like you weighed nothing. He carried you to the bathroom, nuzzling into your neck along the way.

“Still wearin’ those heels, huh?” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Drive me insane every damn time. Don’t take ‘em off yet.”

He set you down on the counter while he ran the bath, adding your favorite bubbles and testing the water with his rough, capable hands. The whole time, he kept glancing back at you, admiring the lingerie still clinging to your curves.

“You in this… fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered. “All I could think about today was gettin’ home to you. You sittin’ there like a damn angel from my dreams… wine in hand, legs crossed like you knew exactly what you were doin’ to me.”

“I did know,” you teased, biting your lip. “You think I put all this on just because I was bored?”

Joel turned off the water and stepped between your knees, hands finding your waist again. “You’re trouble. Real sweet, sexy trouble.”

“And you love it.”

He growled low, brushing his nose along your jaw. “Love every bit of it. Love you, too.”

Your chest fluttered, even now after all the heat, after all the teasing those words never stopped making you melt. Joel kissed your temple, then your nose, then finally your lips with a slow reverence that made your toes curl.

“Let me take care of you now,” he whispered. “You did all that for me. Now I’m gonna spoil you, baby.”

He helped you out of the lingerie with practiced ease, trailing kisses down your collarbone, over your stomach, whispering praises with every inch he uncovered.

“Prettiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “So perfect. So mine.”

You slid into the warm bath, sighing in bliss as Joel joined behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You relaxed against him, the steam curling around both of you, your bodies close and hearts even closer.

His fingers gently traced over your stomach, down your thighs, not in a rush just enjoying you. Cherishing you.

“I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” he murmured, voice low against your ear. “How good you make me feel? How fuckin’ lucky I am?”

You smiled, turning your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “You do. But I love hearing it.”

“I’ll say it every day, then,” he said. “Every night. Every time I look at you.”

You sank into him fully, your hands covering his, legs tangled with his beneath the water, feeling safe and worshipped all at once.

There would be more teasing later. More touching. More heat.

But for now… it was just you and Joel, wrapped in warmth, tangled in love.

By the time the water had gone lukewarm, Joel was pressing soft kisses to your wet shoulder, murmuring, “Let me dry you off, sweetheart.”

He lifted you out of the tub with care, wrapping you in a fluffy towel before patting you down slowly like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. His hands roamed under the pretense of drying, but there was reverence in his touch. Possession, too.

“You got me so worked up earlier,” he said, his voice thick, eyes dark with need. “Now it’s my turn.”

You barely made it out of the bathroom before he backed you against the bedroom door, towel slipping from your body as Joel dropped to his knees in front of you. His big hands cupped the backs of your thighs, squeezing, pulling you closer.

“I’m gonna take my time,” he promised, voice like honey and gravel. “Gonna make you cum so many times, you’ll forget your own name.”

“Joel..” you gasped, your fingers threading into his damp hair as he nuzzled between your legs.

He growled low, biting the soft skin of your inner thigh. “You teased me so sweet, darlin’. All that grinding, all that no hands nonsense. You don’t know what that did to me.”

“Pretty sure I do,” you whispered.

He smirked and kissed the inside of your knee. “Smart mouth. You’ll be beggin’ soon.”

Then he dove in slow licks, soft sucks, letting you feel every flick of his tongue like a promise. He worshipped you, murmuring filth between every movement:

“Love how you taste…”

“This little pussy’s mine, baby, say it.”

“Wanna feel you fall apart on my mouth, come on…”

And you did twice legs trembling, your back arching as Joel held you through every wave of pleasure, refusing to let you pull away, even when it got too much.

By the time he stood, lips shiny and pupils blown wide, you were a wreck sweaty, flushed, legs barely able to hold you.

He kissed you hard, slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before he carried you to bed, laying you out like a feast.

Joel hovered over you, one hand stroking your cheek, the other lining himself up.

“Gonna fuck you slow, baby. Gonna make it last.”

And he did.

Every inch of him slid into you like it was made to fit. Joel moved slow deep, rhythmic thrusts, his mouth pressed to yours, to your neck, your chest. His words never stopped:

“You feel so good, baby…”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight this pussy was made for me.”

“You’re my girl, yeah? Let me hear you say it.”

“I love you,” you whimpered, clawing at his back.

“I love you more,” Joel growled, picking up his pace, burying himself even deeper. “Ain’t never gonna stop lovin’ you.”

He kept you on the edge, bringing you back down only to build you up again. Your nails dragged down his back. His lips kissed away the tears that slipped from the overwhelming pleasure.

And when you finally came again, he followed grinding into you with a low, guttural moan that vibrated through his whole chest, like he was breaking apart inside you.

Afterward, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms immediately, both of you slick with sweat and satisfaction.

He kissed your temple. “Think you broke me, sweetheart.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Think you just returned the favor.”

Joel smiled, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Next time… we ain’t makin’ it outta the kitchen.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, you better believe it.”

And with that, he kissed you again slow and sleepy and full of everything he didn’t need to say.

Because you already knew.

[cool-fancier]

Stormy Hearts

Synopsis: Amidst a stormy night, a chance encounter with a lost dog sparks a heartwarming tale of rescue, reunion, and unexpected love between two compassionate souls.

Word count:2.4K

This was requested by anonymous so I hope I did good

Let me know if you guys have any requests for the girls :)

The air was thick with humidity, a sure sign that the brewing storm would soon unleash its fury. You glanced out the window of the animal shelter, watching the dark clouds roll in. It had been a long day of caring for injured and abandoned animals, but the satisfaction of seeing them nursed back to health made every effort worthwhile.

"Alright, everyone," you called to the small team of volunteers. "Let's make sure all the animals are settled for the night. It looks like we’re in for a rough storm."

As the last of the animals were secured and the shelter doors locked, you grabbed your coat and braced yourself for the downpour. The drive home was going to be treacherous, with the streets already slick from the intermittent rain that had begun to fall. You navigated your car carefully through the winding roads, the windshield wipers working overtime.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a small figure darted across the road. Your heart leapt into your throat as you slammed on the brakes, the car skidding slightly before coming to a stop. You peered through the rain-splattered windshield and saw a drenched dog standing in the middle of the road, shivering and looking terrified.

"Oh my God," you muttered, quickly turning on your hazard lights and stepping out of the car. You approached the dog slowly, your voice gentle. "Hey there, buddy. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you."

The dog, a small Jack Russell Terrier by the looks of it, seemed hesitant but didn’t run. After a few tense moments, you managed to coax the dog into your arms and carried him back to the car. You wrapped him in a blanket you kept in the back seat, feeling the poor thing tremble against you.

"Looks like you’re coming home with me tonight," you said softly, hoping your voice was as reassuring as you intended it to be.

Back at her cozy apartment, you dried the dog off and examined him more closely. He didn’t seem injured, just scared and exhausted. You set him up with a warm bed and some food, watching as he slowly began to relax in the unfamiliar surroundings.

“You’re safe now,” you whispered, gently petting the dog’s head. “We’ll figure this out.”

— — — — — — —

Rosé stepped off the plane, her legs weary from the long flight. She had spent the past three weeks in the Amazon rainforest, capturing breathtaking images of wildlife for her latest project. While the experience had been exhilarating, she couldn’t wait to get home to her beloved dog, Hank. The thought of his excited barks and wagging tail always made her smile.

As she drove through the familiar streets of her neighborhood, a sense of unease began to creep in. Something felt off. When she finally pulled into her driveway and opened the front door, the silence that greeted her was deafening.

“Hank?” she called out, her voice echoing through the empty house. There was no response. Panic surged through her as she checked every room, but Hank was nowhere to be found. His bed was empty, his toys untouched.

Frantically, she rushed outside, calling his name as she searched the yard and the surrounding streets. Her neighbors hadn’t seen him either, and with each passing moment, her fear grew. She returned home and grabbed her phone, dialing the number of the local animal shelters and veterinary clinics.

“Hi, this is Roseanne Park. I’m looking for my dog, Hank. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier, and he’s been missing since...I don’t know exactly when. I’ve been away on assignment. Have you seen him?”

Each call brought the same disheartening response: no one had seen Hank. Rosé felt a lump form in her throat as she sat down, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t lose him. Hank was more than just a pet; he was her family, her constant companion.

Determined not to give up, she printed out flyers with Hank’s picture and started posting them around the neighborhood. She shared his photo on social media, hoping that someone, anyone, might have seen him. The days passed in a blur of worry and exhaustion, each one harder than the last without her furry friend by her side.

— — — — — — —

Meanwhile, back at your apartment, the little dog was beginning to come out of his shell. You had taken him to the vet to check for a microchip, but there was none. You posted pictures and descriptions of him on various lost-and-found pet websites, hoping his owner would come forward.

Days turned into a week, and still, there was no word. The dog, whom you had started calling Max, seemed to be adjusting well. He followed her around the apartment, his once wary eyes now filled with trust and affection. Each evening, they’d curl up on the couch together, a comforting routine that had quickly become the highlight of your day.

“You’re such a good boy, Max,” you said one night, scratching behind his ears. “I can’t believe no one’s come looking for you. But don’t worry, we’ll keep trying.”

As you sat there, watching Max drift off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think about the owner who must be missing him terribly. You knew what it was like to love an animal deeply, and the thought of someone out there worrying about Max broke your heart.

— — — — — — —

One afternoon, as Rosé was putting up yet another flyer, her phone buzzed with a notification. She opened it to see a post from a local lost-and-found pets group. The description matched Hank’s perfectly: a Jack Russell Terrier found on a stormy night, currently being cared for by a veterinarian.

Rosé’s heart raced as she dialed the number listed in the post. After a few rings, a warm voice answered.

“Hello, this is Y/n.”

“Hi, my name is Rosé. I think you might have my dog. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier, and he went missing while I was away. I saw your post and...I think it’s him.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end before you replied, your voice tinged with relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been hoping someone would come forward. He’s been with me for a week now, and he’s such a sweet dog. Can you meet me at the park near the shelter? I’ll bring him with me.”

Rosé agreed, her hands trembling with a mix of hope and anxiety. She couldn’t wait to see Hank again, to hold him and know he was safe. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door, her mind racing with thoughts of their reunion.

— — — — — — —

The park was a serene oasis amidst the bustling city, its lush greenery and peaceful atmosphere a stark contrast to the turmoil Rosé felt inside. She scanned the area, her eyes finally landing on a woman standing near a bench, holding a small dog in her arms.

“Hank!” Rosé called out, her voice breaking with emotion.

The dog’s head snapped up, and he wriggled out of your arms, racing towards Rosé with all the speed his little legs could muster. Rosé dropped to her knees, scooping him up and holding him close as tears streamed down her face.

“Oh, Hank, I missed you so much,” she whispered, burying her face in his fur. “I was so scared I’d lost you forever.”

You watched the reunion with a smile, your heart swelling with happiness. You approached slowly, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

“Hi,” you said softly. “I’m Y/n. I’m so glad we found you.”

Rosé looked up, her eyes red but filled with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe he’s really here.”

You smiled, feeling a warm connection with Rosé. “He’s been a joy to have around. I’m just glad he’s back where he belongs.”

They spent the next few moments exchanging details about Hank’s adventures, with Rosé expressing her heartfelt thanks over and over again. As the conversation flowed, you felt an unexpected but welcome bond forming with Rosé.

“Would you like to grab a coffee or something?” You suggested, hoping to extend both of your time together.

Rosé hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’d like that. There’s a café nearby that’s pet-friendly. We can take Hank.”

— — — — — — —

Over coffee, you and Rosé began to learn more about each other. You shared stories from the animal shelter, tales of the animals you helped, and the challenges they faced. Rosé listened intently, her eyes lighting up with interest and empathy.

“You really love what you do,” Rosé said, admiration clear in her voice.

You nodded. “I do. It’s not always easy, but it’s incredibly rewarding.”

Rosé then spoke about her photography, her travels, and the wild places she had visited. She described the thrill of capturing a perfect moment in nature and the peace she found in the wilderness.

“I think that’s why Hank and I get along so well,” Rosé said, smiling as she looked at her dog. “We’re both explorers at heart.”

You chuckled. “I can see that. He’s quite the adventurer.”

As you both talked, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable and easy rapport. You both discovered common interests and shared values, from your love of animals to the desire to make a positive impact on the world.

The chemistry between you both was undeniable, but both you and Rosé were cautious. You both had each been hurt in the past and were wary of rushing into anything. But as the days turned into weeks, the friendship deepened, and began spending more time together.

— — — — — — —

Navigating the challenges of Rosé reclaiming Hank wasn’t without its difficulties. Hank had grown attached to you, and there were moments when he seemed torn between the two women.

One evening, as you all sat together in Rosé’s living room, Hank lay contentedly between you both . Rosé looked at you, her eyes softening.

“You know, I’ve never seen him this happy before,” Rosé admitted. “He’s always been a bit anxious, but with you, he seems so calm.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I think he’s just happy to have so much love around him.”

Rosé reached out, taking your hand. “I’m really glad we met, Y/n. You’ve brought something special into our lives.”

You squeezed Rosé’s hand gently. “I feel the same way. You and Hank...you’ve both brought something special into mine too.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the connection between you two growing stronger. But with that connection came the inevitable question of what your relationship would become.

As you guys continued to spend time together, you and Rosé began to explore your feelings more openly. There were shared glances, lingering touches, and moments of unspoken understanding that hinted at something deeper.

One day, while walking Hank in the park, Rosé turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh? What about us?”

Rosé took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto yours. “I care about you, Y/n. More than just as a friend. I don’t want to rush things, but I think...I think there’s something really special here. And I want to see where it could go.”

You felt a surge of emotion. “I care about you too, Rosie. I’ve been feeling the same way, but I wasn’t sure if you did.”

Rosé smiled, her relief evident. “I guess we’ve both been a little cautious, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but maybe it’s time to stop being so cautious.”

The conversation marked a turning point in this relationship. You and Rosé began to explore the feelings more openly, allowing the connection to deepen naturally. You both went on more dates, spent weekends together, and shared your lives in a way that felt genuine and unforced.

— — — — — — —

One evening, as you both sat on Rosé’s balcony watching the sunset, you turned to Rosé, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Rosie, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.”

Rosé looked at you, curiosity and affection in her eyes. “What is it?”

You leaned in slowly, giving Rosé time to react. When Rosé didn’t pull away, you closed the distance between you two , your lips brushing against Rosé’s in a tentative, tender kiss.

Rosé responded immediately, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she deepened the kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth of your embrace. The kiss grew more passionate, your connection undeniable as you both poured feelings into that single, electrifying moment.

When you finally pulled apart, both were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” you admitted.

Rosé laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Me too. It was worth the wait.”

You both spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing whispered confessions and dreams for the future. As the stars began to twinkle above, you and Rosé knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful.

Your relationship continued to grow, filled with love, laughter, and the occasional challenge. But through it all, You and Rosé faced everything together, the bond strengthening with each passing day.

As you both stood on the balcony one evening, watching another sunset, you turned to Rosé, your eyes filled with love and determination.

“You know, Rosie, I never imagined finding someone who understands me the way you do. I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve shared.”

Rosé smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. “I feel the same way, Y/n. You’ve brought so much joy into my life. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.”

You leaned in, capturing Rosé’s lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of all the adventures yet to come. And as you held each other close, you both knew that this love story was just beginning, a journey filled with endless possibilities and a love that would endure through any storm.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Endure III: Girls

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: You, Eren, and Dr. Jaeger go to meet a new friend, but the visit rapidly goes south.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.3k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

“Y/N!” Eren trilled, bursting into your house without even knocking. The nine year old boy spent as much time in your house as he did in his own at this point, so his sudden appearance did not shock anybody except for Merry, who barked once before realizing that it was Eren, who always brought some sort of treat for him. Today was no different, as Eren snuck the dog a piece of bacon before storming up to your room and banging on the door.

“OPEN UP, LAZY!” he shouted. You fell to the ground in a tangle of sheets, but you were not able to get up fast enough as Eren burst into your bedroom and nearly tripped over your prone form.

“What do you want, Eren?” you yawned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“First off, it’s twelve in the afternoon. Get up. Second of all, my dad and I are going to visit some family on the outskirts of Shiganshina, and they have a daughter our age! You should come, don’t you think it’ll be fun to have a friend that’s a girl?” he said.

“You already have a friend that’s a girl. Me,” you said.

“No, I know that. I mean for you to have a friend that’s a girl,” he said.

“Right! Yeah, that would be nice. Do you think she’d let me braid her hair?” you said.

“You’d have to ask her,” Eren said.

“Oh, what’s her name?” you said in excitement, already planning out the wonderful friendship you were going to have with this mystery girl.

“Umm...Mikasa Ackerman, I think,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“That’s so pretty! We’re going to be best friends, I just know it,” you said in delight.

“I thought we were best friends,” Eren said. You stood up, discarding your blankets and rolling your eyes.

“Duh, of course we are, but Mikasa is a girl. She’ll be my girl best friend. It’s different,” you said.

“Fine, I guess. But you can’t exclude me,” he said with a pout.

“Just find Min-Min if we do, it’s not that big of a deal. Unless you want me to braid your hair,” you offered.

“You can,” he said. You eyed his hair critically before shaking your head.

“No. It’s too short,” you said.

“Oh,” Eren said.

“Yeah,” you said, “Now can you get out so I can get dressed?”

“Sure. See you downstairs,” he said. You waved at him before getting ready in your normal attire of a navy skirt, fitted white shirt, tan cardigan, and a white ribbon tying your hair up in a loose ponytail.

“I like your scarf, Eren, it’s a very nice color,” you said once you had rejoined him, your favorite stuffed animal tucked under your arm. It was a mythical beast called a “tiger,” a sort of big striped cat that could roar. You had named it Tiger, because you had been four years old when you had been gifted the thing by the Jaegers, and the name had stuck.

“Thanks, it’s new. Why are you bringing Tiger?” he said.

“Because! I want Mikasa to meet him,” you said.

“That’s a good idea,” he said.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” you said.

“Good. About time you started being smart,” he said.

“Mr. Hannes says I’m smarter than you,” you said victoriously.

“You’re lying,” Eren said.

“Am not. Ask him next time we see him,” you said. Eren did not have a response for this, so he scowled and marched out of your house. Grabbing an apple, you followed him, quite happy with yourself.

It was a lovely spring day as you skipped down the road to where Dr. Jaeger was waiting for you, Eren trudging loyally behind you. Mrs. Jaeger waved cheerfully when she saw you walking up the stairs.

“Hi, darling! Are you going to the Ackermans’ with Grisha and Eren?” she said.

“Mhm, yeah, that’s right! And I’m going to become friends with Mikasa!” you said, “Or at least I hope so. Do you think she’ll like me?”

“I’m sure she will. She lives all by herself out there in that cabin in the woods, so I don’t know if she has very many friends. You’ll be nice to her, right?” Mrs. Jaeger said. You nodded.

“Of course! I’m always nice. It’s Eren who’s a meanie, but only sometimes,” you said.

“I’m not a meanie! You’re a meanie!” Eren said.

“Not true! You’re so mean!” you said with a frown.

“No! Mom, she’s making that up. I’m super nice,” Eren assured Mrs. Jaeger, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? What about last week when you —?” you started before Eren cut you off by slapping his palm over your mouth.

“Shhhhh! Don’t be a tattletale!” he cried out in alarm.

“Eren, what did you do to Y/N last week?” Mrs. Jaeger sighed.

“Nothing!” he yelped. She shook her head and tugged at his ear.

“Your ears turn red when you lie, baby. What did you do?” she said, her hands on her hips.

“He ate the sandwich Mr. Orion gave me!” you helpfully supplied.

“Way to keep a secret, mouth!” Eren said.

“I never said I’d keep it a secret! I was really excited about that sandwich, Mr. Orion put goat cheese in it for me!” you said. Eren grinned.

“Yeah, it was a really good sandwich,” he said in fond remembrance.

“Butthead,” you muttered.

“You can’t mean that!” Eren said, tears gathering in his jade eyes at the cruel insult.

“I did,” you said gravely, “I’m still upset about that sandwich, you stupid loser from losertown.”

“No!” Eren gasped, “That was really harsh!”

“You’re not invited to my birthday party anymore,” you said, to add insult to injury. Eren’s jaw dropped, and he began frantically apologizing, promising to never eat your sandwich again, while you and Mrs. Jaeger just watched in amusement.

“Say, where’s your dad?” you said, interrupting his long-winded speech.

“Right here, Y/N. Are you two ready to go, then?” Dr. Jaeger said, appearing from seemingly nowhere and patting you on the head. You and Dr. Jaeger were friends. He was very pleased that you found medicine and anatomy cool, unlike Eren, whose only interest in the human body was how hard he had to hit it to make it break. Many nights, while Eren was asleep upstairs, you and Dr. Jaeger would sit by the fire, and he would show you illustrations of the different muscles and bones and how they all fit together. You already knew that when you grew up, you wanted to work with him, and he seemed perfectly alright with that idea.

“Have you met Mikasa before?” you said as you got into the carriage. It would take you most of the way, though you would have to walk on foot for the final stretch in the forest, since there were so many roots and things that the wheels would catch on.

“No,” Eren said from where he sat beside you, staring out the window.

“Quiet, Eren, I was asking your father,” you reprimanded him.

“Yes, I have. She’s a very sweet girl, though she’s rather shy. You’ll try to be friends with her, won’t you?” Dr. Jaeger said.

“If she’s nice and doesn’t have a bad attitude, then sure, we shouldn’t have a problem,” Eren said.

“Eren, this is why you only have two friends,” Dr. Jaeger said. You suppressed a laugh.

“Of course I’ll try to be friends with her! I even brought Tiger for her to meet,” you said, showing him the stuffed animal proudly. Dr. Jaeger nodded in approval.

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet him. And the two of you, of course,” he said.

“Is her hair long enough to braid?” you said.

“If I recall correctly, it is,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose contemplatively.

“Eren! Did you hear that? I can braid Mikasa’s hair!” you said.

“Only if she lets you,” he reminded you.

“Oh yeah. Dr. Jaeger, do you think she’ll let me braid her hair?” you said.

“That’s something only Mikasa can answer, Y/N,” he said. You frowned.

“I hope so. I need someone to practice on,” you said.

“I already told you you can braid my hair!” Eren complained. You rolled your eyes before patting your lap.

“Okay, I’ll try. Come here,” you said. He lay his head on your lap and closed his eyes as you tried to braid his hair. As you had expected, it was far too short to actually properly braid, so you settled for making a bunch of tiny ones that stuck up everywhere, which kept the two of you occupied for the ridiculously long carriage ride.

“Eren, son, you look like a demon,” Dr. Jaeger said.

“Probably accurate branding,” you said. Eren inspected himself in the metal behind Dr. Jaeger’s bench.

“Okay, I do look kind of silly...but I’m not taking them out! Y/N worked hard on these braids, and I’m not going to ruin them because I look weird,” he said. You ran your fingers through his hair, effortlessly undoing the braids with one motion.

“It wasn’t that difficult, don’t worry. Now you don’t look weird,” you said when he looked affronted at your actions. He grumbled something under his breath, but it was not loud enough to be understandable, so you just shrugged and turned back to Dr. Jaeger, who was beginning to gather his things in his kit.

“Are we almost there?” you said eagerly.

“Yes, we are. Now, I want you two on your best behavior. Eren, that means no bothering Y/N. Y/N, please try not to antagonize him too much,” he said.

“I never ant-ag-o-nize Eren! Right, Eren?” you cooed. He gave you a dull look.

“I don’t know what that means,” he said.

“It means that I cause you to be violent. I don’t cause you to be violent,” you said.

“Yes you do,” he said, “How else am I supposed to protect you?”

“Violence is not always the answer,” Dr. Jaeger said diplomatically.

“That’s right, dad. Violence is a question, and the answer is yes,” Eren said.

“Eren!” you said, though you were fighting a laugh. “Bad! You can’t go fighting everyone you see!”

“I don’t fight everyone I see, just the people that mess with you and Armin,” he said.

“How about you don’t fight anybody?” Dr. Jaeger suggested.

“Hmm. I’ll think about it,” Eren said, though once his father’s back was turned, he shook his head at you, as if to say he would not even consider such a thing. You giggled quietly. This was how Eren operated: he fought first and spoke later. It was the opposite of Armin, who just wanted to talk things out. You were different yet again from the two, preferring to hide from conflict entirely and let your friends take care of the many little problems that plagued your lives.

The forest was alive with the sounds of birds chirping and the breeze rustling through the leaves. The sun was already beginning to set, proof of how long the ride to the Ackermans’ had been. Eren was like your shadow, watching over you with a protective gaze as you bounded through the trees. Dr. Jaeger led the way, both because he was the only one that knew where he was going and because his long strides were double that of you and Eren’s.

“Look at the butterfly!” you said, pointing at the pretty insect. It had orange, black, and white wings that it lazily flapped, drifting in the air before landing on the tip of Eren’s nose. The boy looked incredibly surprised, crossing his eyes to see it properly.

“Why is it on me?” he said.

“Because you must be magical or something! Fairy Princess Eren!” you said in delight. He scrunched his nose in distaste, and the butterfly flew away, startled. You watched it go sadly.

“I don’t wanna be a fairy princess! I’m a brave knight!” he said, picking up a stick and crouching before poking you with it. “On guard!”

“I’m not going to sword fight with you! You’re supposed to sword fight the bad guys to save me!” you said, your hands on your hips in disappointment at his severe lapse in judgement. He considered this before shrugging and pretending to fight some imaginary foe.

“Ha! I did it! I killed the evil men!” Eren said before bending his knees slightly. You immediately hopped on his back, and he took off at a run to catch up with his father.

“Go, horsie, go!” you said, patting him on the head as he sprinted as fast he could.

“I’m not a horsie!” Eren said.

“Well, I’m riding you, so you’re a horsie,” you said with a shrug, “Simple as that.” He did not have a proper response for this, so he continued to try and reach Dr. Jaeger without a word.

Arriving at the Ackerman household, Eren deposited you to the ground with a huff of breath, his face slightly red from exertion.

“You’re going to make a great first impression on Mikasa and her parents,” you said.

“It’s okay. I don’t care what they think of me. I made you happy, right?” he said.

“Yeah, riding you was pretty fun,” you said.

“So that’s all that matters. The Ackermans probably won’t even care,” he said. Dr. Jaeger gave you both warning looks before opening the door.

Something was wrong. It had to be, for Dr. Jaeger’s face went white, and his hands trembled. His lips parted in shock as he stared into the Ackermans’ house. You and Eren exchanged confused glances, but when you tried to peer around him, he pushed you back with his arm.

“Both of you, go wait by the foot of the mountain for me, okay? Do not go anywhere else. Do not move a muscle from that spot, is that clear?” he said. His tone was grave, and all playfulness from earlier had vanished. You hugged your stuffed animal tighter to your chest.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Eren said. Dr. Jaeger shook his head.

“It’s nothing. Get out of here, now,” he said.

“No! Tell us what’s happening!” Eren said.

“Is Mikasa okay?” you said quietly, worry for the stranger who already felt like your friend filling you.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Jaeger said gravely, “Her parents have been murdered, and she has most likely been abducted. I’m going to go contact the MPs so that they can try to find her kidnappers, but I need to know that you two will be safe.”

“I’ll protect Y/N,” Eren said seriously, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the foot of the mountain where Dr. Jaeger had indicated you should wait for him.

“I don’t think the MPs will get there on time,” you said as some strange energy began to thrum in your veins. This was you at your worst; the you that Eren hated, because you were foolhardy and reckless and he always had to dash in and save you, but you were not thinking about that. You were not thinking of anything but the fact that somewhere on this very mountain, Mikasa Ackerman was in danger.

“That’s not our problem. If I was alone, I’d go save her, but what if those people kidnap you, too? Then we’re really in trouble! We just have to trust the military police,” Eren said.

“She’s our friend!” you argued.

“We’ve never even met her,” he said. You wrenched your hand from his grasp and crossed your arms, adrenaline shooting through your body and your heart pumping. Eren’s eyes widened as he realized what you were going to do, but when you were like this, he could not stop you. Nobody could. Like this, you could march through hell and come out singing.

“I’m going to find her,” you said.

“Stop! Y/N, don’t be an idiot!” he shouted. Idiot, stupid, silly. All of those things described you, to be sure, but that was unimportant.

Don’t worry, Mikasa. Just stay alive. I’ll save you, even if Eren won’t help me.

You darted through the trees, the dim twilight sun your only source of illumination. You could barely see where you were going, and you had to rely on instinct to guide you.

You soon ran into another, far larger problem. You had no clue where to go or where Mikasa could be. What if she wasn’t even on this mountain? Had you run all of this way for nothing? You clutched Tiger tightly in your hands and looked around for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts, or perhaps hers.

Footprints in the mud. They were large, which meant they could not possibly be yours. Either they were the people who had kidnapped Mikasa’s, or they were some random stranger that might help you out or know something. Both possibilities were equally as ideal, so you resolved to follow them to where they led.

As you trudged through the mud, the energy from before started to fade, and you began to feel scared. An owl hooted somewhere, and a lone wolf mournfully howled. You shivered at the air, which had grown cold. What were you going to do even if you did find Mikasa’s abductors? You did not have any delusions of being able to fight them. You were not Eren. You were not brave or strong, but you had to see this through. You were the girl’s only hope.

The footprints led you to a small cabin in a little clearing. You could see the warm glow of a fire through the windows, and you sighed in relief. You had made it, though where you had made it, you were not sure. Still, you were at some destination. Reaching the door, you knocked quietly.

A tall man opened it, looking down at you in surprise.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here?” he said, blocking the room behind him. You craned your neck to try and see if Mikasa was back there, but your line of sight was obstructed by the man’s bulk.

“I got lost, sir. Do you think you could help me?” you said timidly. The man’s gaze was predatory and cruel, and a small smirk curled on his lips.

“Yeah, but only if you help me first. Think you can do that?” he said.

“Uh, I guess so,” you said. He reached out for you, and the lifting of his arms gave you a glimpse of the room behind him, where a girl was lying on the floor, tied up, with a small trickle of blood trailing out of her mouth. There was no doubt about it: that was Mikasa Ackerman, and you were in trouble. The man was about to do the same thing to you as he had to her, and you were powerless to stop it.

“Get away from my friend!” Eren shouted, and before anybody could move, a sharp knife came whistling through the air, striking the man in the neck. He collapsed backwards in shock, and you stared at his fallen figure in horror. Eren had just killed a man.

Sprinting the rest of the way to the cabin door, Eren shoved past you and took another knife, stabbing the other kidnapper in the stomach repeatedly until he finally groaned and died.

“Did you just...did you just kill them?” you said hysterically, creeping around the bodies to where Mikasa lay. You began to untie the ropes that bound her with shaking hands.

“I did, and I’d do it again. I told you this was a bad idea! You almost died!” he said.

“What’s going on?” Mikasa mumbled as you gave up on the ropes. Eren stomped over and began sawing at them, finally freeing the girl. She sat up in confusion, looking at the two of you.

“You were kidnapped, but we saved you,” you said. She blinked, and you figured she was in...what had Dr. Jaeger called it? Shock? Yes, she was probably in shock.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eren muttered.

“What about the third man?” she said. You and Eren exchanged looks of pure terror. Third man? There was no third man...or was there?

“What the hell happened here?” a thundering voice resounded deep in your bones. The three of you turned to the doorway of the cabin, where the final abductor had finally appeared, and he was not pleased at the deaths of his accomplices. His eyes locked on Eren, who still held the knife in his hand, and in one swift movement, he picked him up by the neck and began to squeeze the life out of him.

“You thought you could play the hero and come save your friends? Well, now you’re going to die for that mistake!” he snarled as Eren began to choke. The boy struggled, but it was futile. He gave you and Mikasa an entreating look.

“Come on, you two…” he wheezed out, “FIGHT!”

“Fight?” Mikasa repeated, still dazed. You could see the spark fading from Eren’s eyes, but it felt like you were the one being choked, your body immobile.

“Mikasa,” you whispered, “You have to help us.” She was strong. She was brave and strong, and she would save you, and she would save Eren. You had been foolish to think of yourself as her savior, when all along it was destined to be the other way around.

“I...can’t. I don’t know how,” she said in a panic, even as she lifted the knife, her entire body trembling, her ripped clothes hanging on her pale body giving her a ghostly appearance.

“Please, Mikasa,” you said as Eren’s head lolled back from the lack of oxygen and his struggles began to cease, “You have to fight.”

“Fight,” she affirmed.

“Fight,” Eren gasped out.

“Fight!” you shouted. She let out a determined cry before charging the third kidnapper, who dropped Eren in alarm and turned to face the whirlwind of fury and rage that was Mikasa Ackerman as she kicked him to the ground before plunging the knife through his heart, covering all three of you in a fountain of his blood.

You crawled over to Eren, who was sitting up and coughing, rubbing at his bruised throat. The blood that ran down his face was not his own, but it scared you all the same, until you looked down and saw that the crimson liquid had splattered all over your shirt and arms, staining and scalding your skin. Mikasa was no better off, the entire front of her shredded nightgown a brilliant red as she sat beside the corpse, staring contemplatively at the knife she had just used to take down a fully grown man.

“Eren, are you okay?” you whispered.

“Throat hurts a bit, but I’m fine besides that. What about you? Did you get hurt at all?” he said.

“No, you saved me in time, like always. It’s Mikasa we should be worried about,” you said, turning your gaze to the girl, who regarded the two of you coolly.

“You’re Mikasa, then?” Eren said.

“I sure hope so, otherwise we’d really have a problem,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m Mikasa,” she said quietly, “Can you guys help me get home?”

“We should wait for the military police to find us,” you said.

“Oh, so now you want to wait,” Eren groused.

“Shut it, Eren, you and I both saw what state she was in. I was right; the MPs wouldn’t have gotten here in time. As it is, we barely made it,” you said, crossing the room to sit beside Mikasa.

“I’m just glad we’re all okay. Thanks for saving me, by the way, Mikasa. I’m Eren Jaeger, and that’s my best friend, Y/N L/N,” he said, pointing at you. You waved at her.

“And this is Tiger!” you said, giving her your stuffed animal.

“I like Tiger,” she said. Her voice was soft and shaky, but at least she was speaking. If what Dr. Jaeger had said was correct, then she had seen her parents be murdered before she had been kidnapped. Her fragile mental state made sense, and you were overcome with an overwhelming need to care for her.

“You can keep him! He’s really soft and nice,” you said with a bright smile. Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged the toy to her chest.

“Thanks,” she sniffed.

“Are you cold?” you said. She nodded.

“Little bit.”

“Here, have my scarf,” Eren said, taking off his red scarf and wrapping it around her. You could not help but notice that it matched the blood that still drenched her, and you tore your eyes away from it, forcing yourself to keep your attention on your friends.

“It’s warm. Thanks,” she said, hiding her face in the wool.

“My mom got it on sale. It was 50% off,” Eren informed her.

“Wow, that’s a really good deal,” you said.

“Yeah, I think it’s because summer’s coming or something. I don’t know. Anyways, I’m glad you like it, Mikasa,” he said.

“You guys are really nice,” she said.

“Am I allowed to hug you?” you said, not wanting to invade her personal boundaries, especially when you didn’t know what she had been through at the hands of the people that had taken her. She seemed surprised but nodded slowly, so you did exactly that. She smelled like blood and sweet almonds.

“Listen, Mikasa. We’re your friends. I know we’ve never met before, but we’re friends, and friends look out for each other, right?” Eren said.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really had friends before,” she said.

“Well, you have them now, and the answer is yes, they do,” you said.

“Okay,” she said.

“So don’t thank us. It’s just what friends do for each other, that’s all,” Eren said. Mikasa processed this, still nestled safely in your embrace while Eren sat protectively between you and the door, one of his knives resting beside his leg, ready to be used in case the next person that entered was not a member of the military police but rather another attacker.

“You have really pretty hair, Mikasa,” you said to her while you waited for help to come.

“I do?” she said.

“Yeah, it’s super nice! You’ll have to let me try and braid it sometime. Well, only if you want to,” you added as an afterthought, not wanting her to feel pressured into doing something she didn’t want.

“I think that would be fun,” she said. She had a very slow, careful way of speaking, as if every word that left her mouth was thought and planned out before she said it. It was a sharp contrast to Eren, who said what he wanted, and Armin, who spoke at a mile a minute when he was passionate about something.

“Sounds like a plan. We can have sleepovers, and you can meet Min-Min and Merry,” you said, prattling on in an attempt to distract her from the fact that you were in a dark room surrounded by corpses. She gazed at you with her shimmering dark grey eyes.

“Who are Min-Min and Merry?” she said.

“Min-Min is Armin. He’s our other best friend,” Eren said.

“And Merry’s my dog!” you said.

“They’re both really nice. And if you feed Merry a treat he’ll like you for sure,” Eren said.

“That’s good. I like dogs,” Mikasa said, leaning her head against your collarbone. The blood that dripped off of her flowed freely onto you, but you knew that that was the least of your worries. Your parents would hardly be angry, or at least so you hoped, but who knew what the military police would do when faced with what you had done? After all, you all had just killed three people.

It was another twenty minutes before the military police and Dr. Jaeger barged in, looking around fearfully. When their eyes dropped to you sitting on the floor calmly, surrounded by puddles of crimson and rapidly cooling bodies, they gasped.

“What...did you guys do?” Dr. Jaeger said, staring at you in shock.

“The evil men tried to hurt Y/N and Mikasa, so I killed them. Then there was a third one that took us by surprise and started choking me, so Mikasa killed him. It was all in self-defense,” Eren said.

“He’s right,” you said, “If it wasn’t for us, Mikasa would be dead, and if Eren hadn’t killed those men, I would be too. Please don’t arrest him.”

“Nobody’s getting arrested, but still...how old are you three?” one of the MPs said.

“Nine,” Mikasa said.

“Nine?” he repeated. You and Eren nodded, and he let out a long, low whistle.

“Walls be damned. There’ll be an investigation, but you three should be just fine. You’re a hero, son,” the MP said, patting Eren on the head before heading back outside to talk with more of his comrades, shaking his head and muttering “nine years old” under his breath again and again.

“What were you guys thinking? I told you to stay at the foot of the mountain!” Dr. Jaeger yelled as the three of you followed after him, Mikasa still wearing Eren’s scarf and hugging Tiger.

“I’m really sorry for not listening, Dr. Jaeger, but we had to save Mikasa. The MPs wouldn’t have come in time,” you said.

There was something akin to fear in the man’s eyes as he regarded you, and the gravity of what you had just done hit you. This was no game of pretend — Eren had really killed someone. No, not just someone — two people, and you had convinced an innocent girl to murder the third. You were more to blame than Mikasa for her actions, as you were certain she wouldn’t have done anything if it hadn’t been for your urging.

Yet, barbaric though it was, had it really been wrong? Eren didn’t think so.

“Those men were animals of the worst sort, dad,” he said flippantly, “So we put them down. You should be proud of us.”

“Who are you to decide who deserves to live and die, Eren? You’re only nine years old!” Dr. Jaeger said, flinching away slightly from his bloodstained boy.

“If they try to kill my friends, then I will kill them. It isn’t really a difficult concept. Come on, we should go home now. Y/N’s probably cold, and Mikasa needs a bath,” Eren responded. It was true; you had not realized how cold you had become until he had pointed it out.

“Home?” Mikasa said.

“Yeah, you can stay with us from now on. Right, dad?” Eren said. Dr. Jaeger composed himself and nodded firmly.

“Right, yes, of course. We’ll be delighted to have you for as long as you want,” he said. Mikasa gave you an unsure glance, and you nodded encouragingly at her.

“O-okay. Yeah, I think I’ll stay with you guys, then...if it’s not too much trouble,” she said.

“’Course it’s not. We’re friends, remember? And friends look out for each other,” Eren said.

“Right,” Mikasa said with a small smile.

As you walked back to the carriage, you turned to Eren, who was staring directly ahead at the moon in wonder. His love of the moon had not faded in all of these years; if anything, it had only grown, just as your fondness for the sun had increased over time.

“Say, Eren...how did you know where to find me? And that I was in trouble?” you said, referring to how he had perfectly thrown the knife in the nick of time to save you from suffering the same fate as Mikasa.

He shifted to face you, his jade green eyes almost glowing in the silvery light. His expression was somber as he casually shrugged.

“There was a man. He showed me how to get there and what to do,” he said.

“What was his name? Where did he go?” you said.

“I don’t know. He vanished. The only thing he said before going...was ‘save Y/N.’”

[shaingles]

Meanwhile, on the Vultures' Estate

Characters involved: 🍀 (Isa), 👑 (Boss)

The sun dawns on the Black Vulture compound, beaming down on the treasure hoarders training vigorously in the courtyard. They're persistent with their exercises, exhibiting their resilience and strength. Isa sits in her office, a few men lounging along her couches. She drinks her black coffee while reading the local newspaper. The headlines read: "Turmoil Arises in Liyue," "Vandalism Tarnishes Local Wearhouses, Millelith Suspects Treasure Hoarder Involvement," "Treasure Hoarders Activity Spikes, Many Left Fearful."

She sighs, shaking her head before placing her cup down. She's disappointed by the state of the treasure hoarder atmosphere, but she's not surprised. All she can do is sit idly until the right moment arrives.

Soon after she sits up in her seat, Boss busts into her office, one of her hoarders following behind him.

"L-Lady Isa—" the timid hoarder utters, trying to keep up with him.

"ISA," Boss roars, slamming his hands onto her desk. The reverb causes her mug to almost tip over. The men around her perk up from the commotion, the tension in their muscles visible as if they were ready to attack.

"MacQuoid." Isa's voice is calm and collected as her silver eyes lock into Boss's.

"Where the fuck is Midas. I know you have something to do with this." His nails claw into the wooden furniture as he glares at her, his face red as a jueyun chili.

Her playful gasp is followed by a chuckle as she leans back. "Now, now. Why would I have something to do with the baby's disappearance—"

"Because you're always at the forefront of shit like this. You're always there stirring the pot, taking things that don't belong to you. Now, where is he?! What did you plant in his dumb brain this time?!" His voice grows louder as he speaks, and he bears his teeth like an agitated dog.

The reaction makes her burst out laughing, making Boss's face redder. "This isn't a fucking joke, you bitch!! Where is he?!" He barks, making Isa laugh more.

"You're so cute when you're angry," She chuckles, coming down from her laughter.

Boss huffs loudly, ready to tear into Isa until she adds, "I promise you, I don't know where young Midas is. The last time I saw him was when he apologized to me and my men."

"And why should I believe you?" His eyes narrow, his voice low and gravelly.

"Use your brain, MacQuiod," She starts, crossing her legs. "What would I gain from taking Midas from you? Besides a comedic display of your immaturity."

"You—"

"I'm not done," She interrupts, raising her hand sternly. "Midas, though a strong soldier and crafty collector, wouldn't last a day on Vulture territory or with my men. They're ruthless and harsh. Young Midas would crack easily under the pressure."

"... Are you saying my boy is soft," Boss growls, his knuckles turning white as he clutches his fists tight.

"Don't be so prickly. I never said that," She sighs, rolling her eyes. "My point is, if he came here, he would've crawled back to you days ago."

Boss lets the information sit, trying to rationalize it in his head. He knows Isa is right but doesn't want to admit it verbally. A chuckle leaves her as she stands from her desk.

"Speaking of softness, have you considered your version of "tough love," may have pushed him to run away?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Boss scoffs, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "You think I ran away anytime my old man taught me a lesson? No. I took it like a man and lived with it."

"Well, Midas isn't like you. To be frank, he only acts hard to please you, anyway. In actuality, he's much more gentler and considerate..." She pauses, peering at the storm clouds rolling in, slowly blanketing the sun. "Maybe he wouldn't have disappeared if you were a little more tender with him."

Boss scoffs again, but he doesn't have a rebuttal. His eyes glaze over at the men occupying the couches, noticing their tense expressions as if they're ready to pounce at the slightest move. He acts unfazed, but the sight alone terrifies him. Lightning flashes before a rumble of distant thunder fills the silence. Where Isa stands she can see her hoarders end their training and return indoors.

"... How do you suggest I be softer with Midas?" He sighs defeatedly.

"For starters, try sitting down with him and talking. If he's your son, you shouldn't have a problem having a man-to-man conversation, right?"

"... I'll see what I can do," Boss murmurs, turning to leave. He feels eyes follow him as he walks out the door. The moment the door closed the men murmured to themselves about the ordeal.

The timid hoarder, who stood idly watching the altercation, approaches Isa. "Is everything alright, Lady Isa? Are you okay?"

"Don't worry, honey," she reassures, returning to her seat. "Everything is going to be alright." She looks at the door, smiling softly before returning her attention to the newspaper.

[taughtdefense]

❝ no, you’re not fine. you can’t even walk properly. ❞

YOU’VE BEEN TRYING YOUR DAMNDEST TO GET USED TO THE BULLY KYLER, THE TRAITOR MITCH, & A HANDFUL OF OTHER EX COBRA KAI MEMBERS AT MIYAGI-DO. they’re fucking invading, is what they’re doing. you’ve vented to your parents about that, certainly. your mom tells you to keep your head up, your dad offers (jokingly) to handle it. you kind of want him to.

it takes one of your friends's hands on your arm to calm you down enough, for you to remember the fact that they’re apparently now on the same side now. we’re all friends now. johnny had said firmly, after he’d stepped in to break up a near-rumble between mitch, edwin, miguel & tory. they’re not the enemy anymore. you had scoffed, but placed a hand on miguel’s shoulder, leading him away from the pair, tory taking a moment to glare at over her shoulder at mitch before storming away.

it’s a little hard to believe that their nightmare is basically over. with kreese dead & rotting, silver also rotting in prison for his crimes ( including assault with a deadly weapon & [technically] murder in the second degree… twice—also a technicality ), & cobra kai essentially defunct from what you’ve seen, it should make you feel better.

you don’t. you just feel… a little bit empty. without your rage burning you up from the inside out after your death experiences, you thought you’d calm down, go back to normal. like everything around you would go back to normal, like it’d be like old times again. where it’s just you, sam, robby & your friends training with miyagi-do, with a handful of new additions.

that was a naïve hope. you realize that now.

unfortunately, kyler remains a persistent thorn in your side. he always finds an opportunity to throw his ego around, loudly bolstering about his status as top dog, the self-satisfied smirk on his face. it frustrates you to no end. you & him had been sparring, even though you helped kick his ass during the dojo fight. unfortunately, you manage to get distracted for a split second by johnny barking out an order to the first set of brown twins ( chase & rosalie ) & that’s all the time kyler needs to deliver a quick jab to your face, which connects with the side of your face, then kicking your leg out from under you before you can even react, his ankle catching your foot. as your entire world tilts abruptly & violently, you instinctually twist your body to get yourself upright with your other leg, heading for the sparring deck, stuck in a fucking rapid twisting motion from the attack, &—

CRACK!

the side of your head collides with the sparring deck, & your ankle—

❝ FUCK! ❞ you howl in pain, laying on the side of the sparring deck, your hand shooting down towards your ankle, balling up the fabric of your sweatpants. your head slamming against the deck accounts for the sudden spell of dizziness. thankfully, your earplugs stay in your fucking ears. your face is contorted in agony, face bloodied, panting in pain. your ankle feels like it's swelling in an alarming way, & you don’t need to be a doctor to realize that kyler made you roll your fucking ankle.

it’s like a bomb goes off in miyagi-do: all nearby trainings come to a screeching halt. multiple heads snap towards your location atop the sparring deck, & wade lets out a litany of colorful, loud curses. your dad drops the kicking paddle like it burned him & rushes towards you in a way that makes you a little dizzy… well, dizzier.

❝ eth! ❞ hawk shouts as he jumps up onto the deck, but only after @stcrgirl gets to your location first, because she’d been closer than he had been over by the koi pond, bending down next to you. you gasp in pain, looking up at her with agonized, dark brown eyes.

robby, sam, miguel & tory are immediately rushing towards you, too, & miguel’s eyes are wide with half-rage over kyler having hurt you, half-concern over your injured state. you groan loudly, opening your eyes to try & fucking breathe—only to see kyler staring down at you, eyes wide like he’s surprised, but you immediately clock that the corners of his lips are pulled up into a fucking smirk. he manages to school his expression, but YOU KNOW.

yeah. that definitely wasn’t an accident.

you swallow another gasp of pain as wade clambers over to your side, concerned. miguel comes up from behind you as the rest of your friends start crowding around you, & miguel places his hands on the side of your face, gingerly placing your head onto his lap to elevate your head. ❝ i-i’m okay, i’m fine, i’m f-fine. ❞ you gasp out to your friends, partners, & dad, voice trembling.

❝ no, you’re not fine. ❞ courtney replies. you wave off her concerns, gritting your teeth, stubborn as always. you don’t want anyone to worry about you. your friends have done enough of that, lately. you shake yourself out of & bat away wade’s hand with a slightly frustrated—more agonized than anything—grunt, attempting to stand up. miguel makes a quiet, worried noise, eyebrows furrowing. you huff in agony, trying to stand upright ( & ignoring hawk’s outstretched hand, too )—only for your leg to give out from under you, your ankle screaming-burning in agony. fuck, fuck, fuck. ❝ you can’t even walk properly. ❞ your friend continues. you suck in a deep breath, tears of agony gathering in the corners of your eyes. you settle back, placing your head back on miguel’s lap, trying to will away the black spots, the dizziness. you’re slightly comforted by the fact that your partners are here, that your dad is here, that your friends are here. if this had happened while you were alone with kyler, or if you somehow got hurt while training alone at the dojo… yikes. that wouldn’t have been good.

to top it all off, you definitely have a concussion, too, because of how hard your head slammed against the sparring deck. you fight down a wave of nausea, breathing heavily, a mixture of anger & agony clear on your face. you grit your teeth, your hand curling up into a fist at your side, knuckles going white. your assailant says nothing, only appearing to look guilty. he does a decent job of it, too. prick.

fucking kyler.

[justalildumpling]

⇢ bark but no bite

synopsis: when a little challenge was the thing haechan needed to make his move on you

pairing: haechan x reader genre: best friend to lovers, mutual pining, college au, fluff word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol, the word ass was used once note: simultaneously simping for lee donghyuck, na jaemin and huang renjun rn pls send help😭😭 also this was written in like 10min of simpery and not proofread i apologise

Idiot. 

The words you described your best friend at every drunken gathering and especially the morning after as you watched his obvious sufferings.

This Friday morning was no exception, huffing along with a steaming hot thermo filled with ginger tea you had brewed just a few hours earlier as you stormed up to your group of friends at the bench.

Donghyuck sat slouched over the small wooden table, resting his head between his arms groaning about the pounding elephants in his head. You could tell by his low-effort attire and scruffy hairdo that the boy was heavily reconsidering his actions the evening before. 

Not that he was ever going to admit it, with his stubborn competitive ass and all.

You placed the metal bottle down on the table with a clunk, barely catching his dazed attention as you prepared to go on your way to class.

“Is that what I think it is?” You heard Donghyuck gasp from behind.

With a small snort, you turned around to face the boy once again however this time noticing a small light in his eyes, a hopeful smile sparkling at your presence. 

“If you’re thinking ginger tea then yes you little pudu, you’re right.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest.

The sound of his flip-flops slapping down on the pavement cut through the somewhat quiet campus grounds as Donghyuck made his way over to you. It was quite a painful(ly cute) slight to see, with a slight trip every couple of steps as he woefully clutched onto his stomach.

The faint scent of wine lingered on his figure as he engulfed you into a comfortable embrace, comedically sobbing at your kind gestures for his pathetic self.

“Y/N, I will kiss you on the mouth right now.” He bluntly stated, pulling away from your arms. 

You blinked at his shamelessness, shrugging away the sudden skip of your heart, “Pfft, are you really?” 

Haechan paused, his hands on the tops of your shoulders tightening as his gaze grew more intense.

You could feel your cheeks growing hotter by the minute with the small whispers and gasps from your friends contributing to your flustered state. 

But you weren’t going to let the devil incarnate called your best friend know that. No way in hell.

“See? You’re all bark but no bite Lee Donghyuck.”

As his eyes narrowed at your confident (not) state, it was then you remembered his competitive nature. 

Donghyuck rarely backed down on a fight, whether it be a stupid debate about dogs having four legs instead of hands or the title of the ‌drunkest at a party or defending you during a stupid rumour in high school, not caring whether it affected his reputation or not.

You remembered the late evenings on your bathroom floor, eyes bloodshot from the incessant crying from the events at school. Donghyuck merely sat on the cold tiles with you, hands soothingly caressing yours, occasionally whispering that everything would be okay, that he would always be on your side.

It was then you accepted your feelings for the boy, the boy who willingly sat for hours on the hard bathroom floors, caring for your pitiful self, eyes puffy, nose red from blowing on the cheap toilet paper whilst crouched into a foetal position. 

It was then you realised that there was no one else quite like Lee Donghyuck in the universe, no one cutting it even close. So there began the agonising cycle of your silence about your little secret, dodging both your friend’s prying little eyes and loud mouths and your best friend’s flirty remarks or as you liked to call it, the forbidden apple of the end of your friendship. Until now.

“You want me to bite?” He challenged, stepping closer to lean in, “Cause I can bite if you want me to.”

There remained only a few centimetres between your faces, his eyes occasionally flickering to your lips. Your mouth felt dry, with swallowing becoming more painful by the second.

You shouldn’t keep going, you knew you shouldn’t. Laugh it off as you usually do, flicking his forehead and sauntering off to class. Simple.

But then again, what harm could he do?

“Do it, you won’t.”

With what you expected for him to cackle and push you in the direction of your class, a small smirk laced his face before his hands latched to your waist and his lips met yours. 

At first, a burst of peppermint coated your tongue, most probably due to his excessive toothbrushing habits after a night out but after that was warmth. The warmth of his soft lips moulding oh so perfectly against yours, the warmth of his hands burning through the thin material of your T-shirt and the warmth of his smile caught as he pulled away.

“Now who’s the one left without a bark now?” He spoke softly, a smug look overriding his features.

You stood silently with your lips left ajar, barely clutching onto your tote bag as you were left processing his actions. 

“Y/N?” Donghyuck called, timidly reaching for your hands once again, “Was that too much?”

“Are you still drunk? You didn’t mean to do that right?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you examined his figure.

The hand that was once reaching for yours slammed against his forehead, letting a low groan, “God woman, do you think I’m that bad?”

“Not gonna lie to you, I do.”

Donghyuck whined, fingers moving to the sides of his head, tugging at the strands frustratedly, “Y/N, although I make a lot of… questionable decisions. I meant that.” 

Donghyuck paused, looking over your shoulder at your flabbergasted friend group before turning his attention back to you, “Look, this wasn’t how I wanted things to pan out but I like you Y/N, and I have for a while now.”

You could feel your heart roaring in your ears as the butterflies came rushing down your stomach. The forbidden apple was bitten, yet the pandora’s box remained unopened just like how you wanted things to be.

“You stupid idiot,” You smiled, reciprocating the touch of his hand.

“Well, that’s another way to say that you like me back,” He winked, pulling you by the waist and leaning towards your face, his gaze flickering from your lips to your eyes, “Do you want another kiss for clarity?”

“You know, for a supposedly hungover person, you sure have a lot of left over energy.”

Donghyuck only chuckled, leaning in to peck your lips, “I guess you were the hangover cure I always needed.”

You pushed his forehead with your index finger as you unravelled from his grip, “You’re so- ugh, I have to go to class stupid, I’ll see you later.”

As you sauntered away, you could hear his boisterous laughter from behind.

“See you later love!”

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @mxnhoeuwu @liliansun

[clownqueenofprom]

Royal Christening (A Hero is Born, #1)

I found this Risen Shadow/Fallen Sun au by @lavender-descendentheart wherein Lady Bone Demon finds Sun Wukong under the mountain and frees him, so Tripitaka is forced to settle for Macaque when about to go on the journey, that just REACHED my heart, so I had to write out like… like a first chapter for it.

Whatever this is. MK will be referred to as Xiaotian because what else do you want from me? You want me to call him SK for “Shadow Kid”? I’m not calling him SK. I’m not a vsco girl. And Xiaojiao Long for Mei because I just like that better than “Mei Dragon” to be completely honest. This note is because authors be writing these fanfics, using the Chinese names and then expecting people to just… KNOW who everyone is.

Qi Xiaotian was just a delivery boy. Nothing more, nothing less.

He was an orphan, with no memory of his life before meeting the noodle shop’s owner, who’d taken him in- of course, not without grumbling about how he’d have to pull his weight around the shop in exchange.

Xiaotian didn’t have any complaints. It was sometimes a hassle, but it was fun sometimes and it was certainly heaps better than being on the streets without a thing to his name. He was happy to do anything asked of him.

But a delivery to an unfinished construction site- that was halfway underground? He had to draw the line somewhere, right?

“An order’s an order, kid,” His boss, and as far as he was concerned, surrogate father “Pigsy” (that wasn’t his real name, but that didn’t make it any less fitting.) had told him gruffly, pointing his spoon matter-of-factly.

“I can’t have a costumer giving me a bad review! That’s exactly what the competition wants.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Pigsy,” Tang had said, leaning on the pig demon’s shoulder without a care, spinning around a chopstick with his free hand. “It’s raining cats and dogs! You can’t make Xiaotian go out in all that! Your noodles are the best in town!”

A cartoonish vein popped up on Pigsy’s forehead as he shoved Tang off of his shoulder. “Yeah, I bet!” He’d barked. “That’s why you’re always around here freeloading, ain’t it!?”

The moment another one of their typical childish arguments began, it became apparent to Xiaotian that he wasn’t getting out of this strange request- for noodles… underground.

Unfortunately, his little delivery boy cart wasn’t exactly accommodated to rides underground, especially considering the seemingly constant poor weather in Megapolis.

No matter the season, it was either foggy, raining, or snowing, which made it especially hard for a delivery boy such as Xiaotian. Scientists yet to have come up with an official theory for why the whether was so bizarre despite the location and season, but there’s been talk of a constructing a weather station to control it.

Matter of fact, he thought as he finally came across his destination, ready to climb down underneath the unfinished building and deliver his boss’ noodles, that was the very building he would be trespassing beneath this afternoon.

“Hoo boy,” he said aloud, a little bead of sweat rolling down his face at the sight of the undone building in front of him.

The heavy rain helped nothing, and since none of the workers were out, perhaps because of the violent storm, it looked throughly abandoned, thoroughly unstable, and thoroughly creepy.

He cracked a nervous smile, hesitantly walking forward and ducking underneath a wooden scaffolding, crawling into a hole that looked like it was about to become a basement.

He checked the directions on his phone (all of which had been manufactured waterproof, as the constant rain called for a lot of accommodations.) and hummed unsurely before taking a left, poking his head through a recently dug out hole.

As for what he saw- well, he wasn’t really sure what he expected in the first place.

It was just a cave, with pipelines for the unfinished building above lining the ceiling- but inside that cave was an entire squadron of mechanic-seeming… bull demons, all of which looked exactly the same, as if they’d been mass produced.

A tiny squeak of surprise escaped him, but none of the bull… robots seemed to notice.

Their appearance reminded him of one of the many stories Tang had told him while he cleaned up the shop- the story about the Demon Bull King.

It was no more than historical fiction, of course, but it described an epic battle, a raw display of aggression between two demons, the Monkey King and the Demon Bull King.

Monkey King emerged victorious, sealing the Bull King underneath a mountain with his staff before he vanished, never to be seen again until finally being defeated by the famed Six-Eared Macaque. (The details of that second battle were unknown to him until Tang got another bowl of free noodles.)

He shook away his thoughts, scrambling to find his phone. He hoped with all his heart that he’d found the wrong underground hideout beneath an unfinished business.

Of course, that was not the case.

At a genuine loss for what to do next, Xiaotian just sat there for a moment, awkwardly wedged in between an unfinished bathroom and a freaking underground lair.

”It feels like I’ve waited an eternity for this moment,” Over everything else, the sound of a feminine voice stood out to him. “Is everything in order?”

“Just making the final adjustments, mother.”

Xiaotian flinched, turning his eyes in the direction of the female voice, which was then followed by a male’s.

The woman was tall and dark haired, with an impractical but impressive horned headset and a traditional dress you wouldn’t see on anyone in the modern day.

The boy was much younger, her son, he inferred, and had red hair tied into a high ponytail and small glasses, along with a random scar on his upper cheek.

He didn’t recognize either of them, but one of them had ordered noodles, and Megapolis was a big city after all. Most of Pigsy’s shoppers were regulars. First time for everything, he guesses.

He used his teeth to hold the bag, laying both hands flat against the stone to force himself out of the hole. With an alarming lack of grace, he fell, rolling into the dirt.

He quickly recovered, however, pushing himself off the ground. “Hey!” He yelled, dusting the dirt off of his red hoodie.

“Huh?” The boy’s expression contorted into disgust at the sight of Xiaotian. “What are you supposed to be?” He demanded, as if Xiaotian were some creature that just crawled out from underneath the bed.

“Oh! Uh, I’m Xiaotian.” He smiled sheepishly, holding up the bag of noodles. “Here from Pigsy’s Noodles? Order for two classic bowls, right?”

“Not right, you oaf!” The redhead seethed, slapping the noodles to the ground. “Nobody here ordered your peasant food.”

In the corner of his eye, Xiaotian noticed one of the Bull robots start to seemingly sweat nervously, but the redhead didn’t see it. Instead, he pointed an accusatory finger at Xiaotian.

“Do you know who we are?” He hissed. “I am Red Son, the one and only son of the Demon Bull King, and I-”

“Enough of this,” The mother hissed, tired of her son’s rambling. “We’ve no time for games. Be on your way, peasant boy.”

She narrowed her eyes at Xiaotian, who broke into a sweat as he spared her a nervous chuckle.

She turned away, training her eyes on a little hill filled with dead grass, and a similarly wilted tree. In he middle of tiny hill was a staff. “We must focus all our energy on lifting the staff.”

Xiaotian furrowed his brow. Lifting a staff didn’t seem like it would be that hard.

A Bull robot, the same one that he suspected ordered those noodles, quickly scrambled up the top of the hill, pulling on the staff.

Instead of running like he probably should have, Xiaotian watched intently as the Bull robot heaved and heaved, pulling on the staff, but in the end, his arms gave flying off instead.

The Bull’s body landed at… Red Son(?)’s feet. “You fool!” The redhead said smugly. “You think we didn’t try that already? It’s going to take more than a few robots to lift the Monkey King’s staff. Only those deemed worthy can wield-”

Xiaotian cut him off, shoving his palm into the redhead’s cheek to move him aside. “Monkey King’s staff? That is a really realistic model, but that staff isn’t real, you know.” He said lightheartedly, ignoring Red Son’s cries of umbrage as he walked up to the hill, smiling until he reached the staff.

“You just have to twist and pull. Righty tighty, lefty loosey!” He said, quoting the old rhyme.

As he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the staff, a shudder went down his spine- not a chill, but rather a sweltering heat.

“You idiot,” Red Son said, rubbing his cheek. “Get down from there immediately, peasant! Someone must teach you your pla-”

The arrogant boy was immediately silenced when Xiaotian tugged on the staff, pulling it out of it’s spot situated in the ground. As far as he knew, it wasn’t even in there that tight.

The mother gasped as the staff can free, and Xiaotian held it in his hand, above his head in a mock victorious pose. Whispers aligned into an odd term as he held it, brushing against his ears.

“Sun Wukong,”; they told him.

“He did it…!” The mother gasped aloud, but the son wasn’t very amused.

“Then why is nothing happening!?” He demanded, before looking at his mother flatly.

“Mother, are you sure this is the right mountain?”

“No,” The mother said in annoyance, holding her palm to her forehead. “Maybe it was that other mountain with the magical staff, sealing away my husband!”

Xiaotian glanced down at the staff in his hands. There was no way that thing was the Monkey King’s staff, right?

His thoughts were proved wrong in a flash of erupting green light from the ground beneath him, tossing him across the room, clutching onto the staff for dear life.

Out of the ashes of what used to be ground, a giant bull- who could only be the Demon Bull King- the real Demon Bull King, even with a broken horn and a body and face that was riddled with scars from his head to his toe, the demon exuded power that Xiaotian had never seen before.

“Flesh,” he utters, “Bone…” He stared down at his clawed hands, clenching them, simply to test out movement. “I have returned to the realm of the living!”

“Demon Bull King!” The woman said, a wicked grin on her face. “How I’ve missed you.”

“Princess Iron Fan,” The King greeted in return. crossing his arms with what can only be described as ‘something kind of like a smile’. “The years have been kind. How did you free me?”

In response to the King’s question, Xiaotian’s body was quickly kicked away by Red Son, explaining what had happened in quick recession that was barely understandable.

“I-It doesn’t matter though, Father!” The boy sputtered. “If we have the noodle boy, we have the staff, and we have them both right here!”

The Bull King glared at Xiaotian, who backed up in fear and alarm, clutching onto the staff for dear life as Red Son continued.

“Together, we, the Demon Bull Family, will plunge the world into eternal darkness!”

Oh jeez, The supposed Demon Bull Family, along with their little gofers, the robots, turned to give Xiaotian a glaring look, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. Xiaotian stared at the staff in his hands, sweat rolling off his forehead.

This was all his fault, wasn’t it?

Next? 👀

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 70: To Forgive

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 10 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, scary situations, mild swearing ❧ Word Count: 6.4k

❧ In This Chapter: Daryl and Robin return home from their excursion to Oceanside, but all is not well at the gates of Alexandria, where herds of walkers are threatening the peace. While Daryl goes out with Michonne and the others to meet with Alpha, you join Aaron in helping out at home, though Negan's presence causes some friction.

❧ A/N: Some Reader/Negan interactions! And of course I had to put in some cute Dixon family moments, because that's what we're really all here for. Also, I'm not saying one way or the other, but I think Negan might have genuine little crush on Reader? A little conflict coming our way?? A little jealous/protective Daryl on the horizon for a saucy subplot??? Who knows????

You heard Dog’s barking before anything else, and that alerted you to their arrival.

Robin’s voice came through from the front porch as you shucked corn with Lydia in the kitchen.

“I can’t wait to show Mommy,” she said, and the sound of the front door opening, that sound that always filled your heart and soul with relief and immediate warmth, soon followed.

“Show me what?” you asked, coming through the archway into the small foyer, where Daryl and Robin were taking off their muddied, sandy boots.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the spear in Robin’s hands, a long wooden stick with a sharp iron point on the end.

“Oh,” you huffed, and looked over at Daryl, who had that “I can explain” look on his face. “A spear?”

“One of the ladies from Oceanside gave it to me,” she said, holding it out to you. “She said it’d be better for killing walkers because I won’t have to get so close to them.”

Daryl shrugged. “Couldn’t talk ‘er out of it.”

“Well, it’s true,” you said, warming up to the idea. “How’d it go?”

“I did five walker heads,” she said. “And Judith and RJ and me made sandcastles, and Dog and me played in the water. I saw Aunt Carol again.”

Your eyes widened at that. Carol had left shortly after the winter storm to go on a fishing trip with some of the Oceanside residents. She must’ve just gotten back.

“Is she here?” you asked, looking up at Daryl.

“Yeah,” he said. “Stayin’ at Michonne’s.”

“I’m gonna show Lydia my spear,” Robin announced, and trotted off into the kitchen where you heard Lydia praise her new “toy.”

“Be careful with that thing!” you yelled after her. You turned back to Daryl, who was removing Dog’s utility vest. “Another thing to worry about. She’s going to poke her eye out or something.”

He scoffed and kissed your cheek. “Nah, gave ‘er the ‘it’s not a toy’ spiel. ‘Sides, it’s a good start. Kid’s still askin’ me about learnin’ crossbow.”

“You should teach her, when her arms are long enough. How cute would that be?”

He chuckled as he absentmindedly played with your hair. “Sure, real cute.”

That evening after dinner, you enjoyed your favorite pastime: sitting on the porch swing with Daryl.

Robin played in the street with RJ, who was only a month younger. The two six-year-olds were close, though it was hard for any kid not to be close with just about every other kid in Alexandria, given how close-knit the community was.

Still, RJ, Judith, and Gracie were always Robin’s closest friends.

“So she liked the beach?” you asked, petting Dog as he laid by your feet.

Daryl grunted and unwrapped his arm from around you to reach into his shirt pocket.

“Got some pictures,” he said with a smile, hardly able to contain himself.

He handed you the Polaroids from your camera, and you immediately let out an “aw” at the first in the stack: a rather blurry photograph of Robin, her overalls rolled up so she could run around in the shallow waves of the ocean, with Dog by her side, in frantic motion as he played in the water.

You snuggled into Daryl’s embrace again to look at them, and chuckled at the next photo—Robin with her fingers stretching out her mouth and sticking her tongue out at the camera, with Dog in the background shaking the water from his fur.

“I love these,” you said. “We can put them on the wall.”

“Mhm,” grunted Daryl. “Except this one.”

He reached towards the back of the pile to pull out a clear, more professional looking Polaroid of Robin smiling up at the camera, her face framed beautifully by her wavy pale brown hair, and her smile bright and wide, with a few of her missing baby teeth she’d recently lost on full display. She was kneeling on the beach, alongside Dog, who obediently sat beside her. He seemed to be smiling, too, with his tongue hanging out, as usual.

“This one’s goin’ in the wallet,” he said, and tucked it back into his shirt pocket for now.

Daryl always teased you for being sentimental, wanting to have pictures of everything and always wearing your wedding ring and your necklace, but in truth, he was just as sentimental as you, maybe even more.

The man always carried a handful of photographs in his wallet, which he had purely for the purpose of keeping those pictures. There was no money in that wallet, of course, but the images of his family were all he needed, anyway.

You knew he had one Glenn had taken of you on your wedding day, one of Robin in your arms the day she was born, one of you gardening with Robin, one of Dog and Robin drinking out of the garden hose, one of Robin on her first day of school, one of you in front of the library on the day its construction was finished…

Yeah, he was a little sentimental.

The next one in the pile was your favorite so far, and one that you would keep in your pack for whenever you left home—a Polaroid someone else must’ve taken of Robin and Daryl on the beach. Robin was holding something, and Daryl was kneeling down to look at it in her hands.

“Carol took that one,” he said. “Robin found a sand dollar.”

“Adorable,” you said, and flipped to the next one, the last one.

You gasped at it, smiling wide and looking between Daryl and the photograph. Now, this one was your favorite by far.

After taking the previous photo, Carol must’ve instructed Robin and Daryl to look up at the camera. Daryl had a confused look on his face, with furrowed brows and a slightly agape mouth as he held Robin’s sand dollar in his hand.

Robin, on the other hand, had another big, beautiful smile on her face. Both her and Daryl’s hair was blowing wild in the coastal wind, and overall, the photograph was adorably funny.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed teasingly. “You look a little grumpy here.”

He squinted at the photograph. “What? I’m smilin’.”

“That’s not smiling, cutie pie. You’re gawking. It’s precious, and Carol’s much better at taking pictures than you, by the way.”

“Ain’t my fault,” he said. “My fingers were too big for the buttons.”

You snorted and tucked the rest of the photos back in his shirt pocket before patting his chest. “Thank you for doing that. I wish I was there.”

He shook his head, lowering it as if in shame. “No, ya don’t.”

That worried you, so you moved closer to him and lifted his scruffy chin to look up at you. “Why? What happened?”

“There was a forest fire,” he said. “Spent all last night and this mornin’ puttin’ it out. We… We had to cross into their borders.”

That damn Alpha and her borders. You swore that they had strategically placed them around Alexandria's hunting grounds to make life much harder for your people.

“Coulda wiped out Oceanside, and our hunting grounds,” he continued. “Had no choice. And I’m sure ya heard about the mask.”

You nodded. “I—I did. But that could mean anything, or nothing.”

“Aaron’s convinced it means they’re close by,” he said.

For the ten months the Whisperers hadn’t been seen, it was presumed that maybe they’d moved somewhere else, and taken their sick stench of death with them, but suddenly it seemed to waft back out of nowhere.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Think I ain’t takin’ any chances, and think Robin’s gonna have to start learnin’ how to use that spear.”

The next morning, Robin was intent on convincing you and Carol to take her outside the walls for training.

This time, with real, full-bodied walkers.

She was eager to learn how to use her new spear, and though you were initially against the idea, the more practical part of your brain reminded you that this was exactly what Robin needed to be learning, despite the grievances of the more motherly, protective part of your brain.

The three of you went out at first light, and Robin had a spring in her step as she walked between you and Carol out of the front gates.

“You think we’ll find some walkers nearby?” she asked you, looking up in her curious little way.

“I don’t know, sweet pea,” you said, looking between her and Carol as you walked. “We might have to go out a little further. They don’t come by the walls so much these days.”

There were sometimes stragglers, but herds or even small groups were rare. Luck was on your side there, as well as the fact that walkers had gotten much slower since the beginning of the outbreak. You had made a note of it in your records you kept in a special collection in the library. Walkers had seemingly become more and more decayed the longer they were walking around, resulting in the slowing down of their speed.

This was a good sign, since it meant that walkers were getting easier to kill, and that it was plausible for the human race to catch up, and eventually, probably not in yours or Daryl’s lifetime, but maybe in Robin’s, take back the world.

From what government records you could find in Washington D.C. regarding the outbreak from the early days, there were estimates that at least half of the world population was infected, and no doubt that number had grown since.

Today, though, there was little time to think about that. The world was overrun with walkers. Dumb, slow walkers, but walkers nonetheless.

“I’ll bet we’ll find a few out here,” said Carol. She looked up and down Robin’s spear, which she held in her hands and used as a walking stick. “You be careful with that thing.”

“I will,” she said matter-of-factly.

To your surprise, you really didn’t have to go far outside the walls. You were maybe just thirty yards away when you saw one coming out from the trees.

“Walker,” you said seriously, and instinctively stood in front of Robin to assess the number. “Just one, I think.”

The walker lumbered forward, with its skeletal, rotten body swaying slowly as it crept forward. It elicited that familiar hiss-like growl, and began chomping its teeth at the air when it saw you.

It was a particularly old-looking walker, weak and nearly all bone. Surely six-year-old Robin had the strength to kill it. At least, you hoped.

“Come here,” you gestured to her, and held her hand as you both walked towards the walker. You nodded to Carol, who held up her bow and arrow in case you needed help. Unlooping your axe from your belt, you spoke softly to Robin, who shakily held her spear. Whatever eagerness or confidence she once had as she walked through those gates seemed to dissipate before your eyes.

“I’ll be right next to you,” you said, amidst the growls and groans of the steadily approaching walker. “You just hold that spear up high and aim for the brain. I won’t let it hurt you.”

She swallowed hard and nodded silently, letting go of your hand and gripping her spear more firmly.

The walker increased its pace, and soon it was just a few feet away, stumbling over some fallen branches.

“Mommy…” she whimpered.

You held your axe at the ready, in case she couldn’t do it. “You’ve got this.”

As soon as the thing was in arm’s reach, she drove the blade of the spear right up into the walker’s neck, but it wasn’t angled quite right to reach the brain.

“Almost,” you said encouragingly. “Can you pull it out?”

She looked between you and the walker with terrified eyes, but swallowed hard and tried to maintain composure, despite the much stronger walker putting pressure on the other end of the spear.

“I, um… I think so.”

“Try pulling it out, then aim a little higher.”

She yanked at the spear with all her might, and after a few more pulls, she jerked the spear from the walker’s throat, and quickly it began to come at her.

She backed up with a few terrified whimpers, until she fell down on the grassy ground below here.

“Help!” she cried.

You quickly leaped forward and pulled the walker away from her, trying not to kill it.

“It’s all right,” you assured her with a huff. “Just try again. Aim higher. You can do this.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself. “Come on, baby.”

She pushed herself up and wiped her brow before clutching at the now bloodied spear again.

This time, as she attacked the walker, she angled the spear higher, and with all the strength she could muster, the blade punctured the brain, rendering the lifeless creature even more lifeless.

“You did it!” you cheered triumphantly, wiping the blood off your hands before you went to hug her. “You’re a natural, sweet pea!”

She shook a little in your arms, and frowned when you pulled her back to look at her. “What’s wrong, Robin?”

Abject terror caused her crisp blue eyes to widen in fear, and her lips to part in her struggle to say something.

“Walkers!” cried Carol from a distance, and you turned around to see at least a dozen coming towards you.

“Go!” you exclaimed to them, sending Robin back towards Carol. “Take her back to the gates!”

“No, (Y/N)!”

“I got it!”

Sure enough, you were able to take out all the walkers in the mini-herd while Carol escorted Robin to safety, but as you lifted your head, you were met with a dozen more, and what looked to be another dozen threading through the trees, towards Alexandria.

By nightfall, waves upon waves of the herd came from the north and south, their sights set on Alexandria. Two nights worth of fighting, taken in shifts, but nevertheless exhausting.

You sent Robin home, though she asked if she could help. Lydia, too, asked to help, but you instructed her to stay home with Dog and Robin and to keep them safe in case anything happened.

Luckily, it seemed the herds were just manageable, but fatigue was settling in, and in the early hours of the third day, morale was running low. When a Whisperer neither Daryl nor Michonne recognized came up to the gates, demanding a group of unarmed delegates meet at the north border to speak with Alpha, it became abundantly clear that a meeting needed to be called.

As the newly appointed secretary of the council, you tried to take the best notes you could, writing down everything that happened and was said, but most of it was bickering, and rather heated arguing. Several individuals were up in arms about the Whisperers again, demanding justice. Particularly, you noted, Margo and Gage were vocal in the meeting, calling for whoever went to this meeting at the border to “take that lead bitch’s head off” and “put their heads on spikes.”

Michonne handled the situation well, putting together a plan to meet with Alpha at the border unarmed, as the Whisperer had said. Her reasoning was that right now, Alpha only wanted to talk, and that was easier than fighting, or God forbid, fighting off the horde.

Though the Whisperer had insisted that the herd attacking from the north and south weren’t under Whisperer control, it was hard to believe. While Daryl, Carol, Michonne, and a few others journeyed to the border, you joined Aaron’s group in working on pushing back the southern wave.

Unfortunately, Gabriel had a plan up his sleeve, which involved recruiting Negan for yours and Aaron’s group. By nightfall, Negan had started to get to the both of you, irritating you with his constant quips.

“Do you ever shut up?” Aaron asked, trying his best to ignore Negan as the three of you guarded the southernmost wall, several yards from Alexandria.

Negan shook his pointed stick of blood, and wiped his brow with the other hand. “Only when I sleep.”

You axed an incoming walker, then huffed as you sat yourself down for a moment on the wheel of the tractor. “They just keep coming,” you sighed, and looked around at the surrounding woods. “Seems like we’ve got a little break, though. Maybe it’s dying down?”

“Doubt it,” replied Aaron. “Seems they’re coming in waves. Had a few breaks already.”

“Hey, buckaroo,” interjected Negan, rather obnoxiously, “listen to your little sister. Maybe it’s dyin’ down. Maybe we can start headin’ on back home now, huh?”

“Said we got a break,” you told him. “Still have to wait until the coast is clear.”

“Aw, come on!” he said. “You two are a couple of goody-two-shoes, you know that? The herd’s slowin’ down, no harm in goin’ home to get some shut-eye.”

“Just drop it, Negan,” you said before taking a sip of water from your canteen. “We’re not going anywhere, not yet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and soon another small chunk of the herd came through, and Negan grew tired of fighting with that stick he’d been given, and hastily grabbed the crowbar he’d tried to use earlier, which Aaron had forced him to put down.

Aaron was furious at this, breathing heavily in rage at Negan not listening to him. Though Aaron was always still his usually friendly, easy going self, the older he got, the less patience he had for people like Negan.

“Aaron,” you said, grabbing his arm and trying to calm him down before he reamed into Negan, “don’t—”

“What did I say?” he asked, interrupting your plea for leniency.

Negan scoffed as he looked between the two of you. “I had to, did you not see this—” His words were interrupted by Aaron throwing a rope at Negan’s feet, to which he chuckled. “You want me to hang myself?”

If only.

“Tie up,” answered Aaron with a nod. “We’re taking you back.”

You looked at him incredulously. “What if more come this way? We have to keep them from the walls.”

“I’m not spending another minute out here with this asshole,” Aaron said to you, giving you that serious, no-nonsense look only an older brother could give to his younger sibling.

“This is the best freaking news I’ve had all day,” said Negan cheerfully, in contrast to the rather nasty death glare Aaron was sending his way. “But I am not tyin’ up like some POW.”

“Yes, you are,” Aaron said calmly, though you could certainly tell he was steeped in rage. He hated Negan, of course. Everyone who was around during the Savior war hated him, and had been personally affected by him in some way.

For Aaron, he held him responsible for Eric’s death. Though it was some random Savior who’d nailed Eric with the bullet that would ultimately take his life, there was no way of knowing who that Savior was, so Negan was to take the blame.

Though you hated Negan, too, and there was no way you could ever forgive him for what he did and allowed to be done to Daryl, and absolutely not for what he did to Glenn and Abraham, you had to admit there might’ve been some kind of change in him—that maybe he was a better man than he once was.

He may have been obnoxious, but he helped save your little girl, and your adoptive niece. That had to count for something, as much as you didn’t want it to. Of course, you would never like Negan, but you could at least keep your rage under wraps a little easier now.

Aaron, on the other hand, didn’t have a redemption story for Negan. He just hated him.

He pulled out his knife, not taking his eyes off Negan, who looked off and sighed before raising his eyebrows and giving Aaron a rather smug look. Though you knew your brother was not easily angered, he was also terrifying on the rare occasion that he was angry.

“You know what I see?” asked Negan. “I see someone that’s pretending.”

Oh, no.

“Come on, man,” he continued. “Let’s go.” He began to walk past Aaron, who quickly pushed him to the ground.

“Aaron!” you scolded, and harshly tugged on his shoulder in an effort to get him to face you, though he wouldn’t budge. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Jesus,” groaned Negan as he began rising to his feet. “Did you just trip me? What are you, twelve? What the hell is wrong with you?”

You shook your head. “He didn’t mean it. Let’s just get back to Alexandria.”

“I’ve been puttin’ my neck on a block for you people all goddamn day.”

Aaron grimaced at that. “You don’t give a damn about us. If you gave a shit, you’d leave. That’s what everyone needs.”

A short few beats of silence settled in, and Negan lowered his head, becoming the less smug, more real version of himself. From the last five months of seeing Negan, interacting with him more frequently, you began to notice that there were two sides to the man: the obnoxious, annoying Negan who made snide comments and half-jokingly attempted to persuade you into sleeping with him, and the more quiet, introspective Negan, who made genuine attempts to explain himself and what he’d done, whether or not his explanations were morally sound.

“I did what I had to do back then,” he said.

Sometimes, you actually liked the arrogant, performative Negan better. At least that Negan could be just slightly amusing.

You could feel Aaron’s rage radiating from his skin, like an aura of flames surrounding his body as it shook with fury.

Of course you were angry by his comment, too, but more than that, you wanted to get home now, to check on Robin and Lydia, to see if Daryl and the others were back yet. That’s what you cared about, not rehashing past traumas.

“What did you say?” asked Aaron, to which Negan shook his head dismissively, as if hoping to forget it. “No, no, no. Open that up. Tell me why the love of my life had to die, why (Y/N) went through hell while you tortured and beat her husband.”

The emotions rose up in you, the ones you’d tried so hard to suppress whenever you thought about that time. It haunted you in a lot of ways, the not knowing what was happening to Daryl, wishing you could do something, and feeling helpless when you couldn’t. It was hell, truly, but you tried to keep calm. Aaron was always the calm one when you let your emotions get the better of you, so you had to do that for him.

“Aaron,” you said, touching his arm lightly. “Please.”

Negan looked over Aaron’s shoulder at you, and a glint in his eyes told you he was about to dig himself even deeper.

“Okay,” he said. “One simple fact… One truth kept my people goin’. If you don’t protect what belongs to you then sooner or later it belongs to someone else. That goes for your land, your wallet, your home, your country, everything. It is your job as a man to protect it. That’s the story of America, the story of the whole goddamn world, and ain’t nothing changing it, not you, not me, nobody.”

It was bullshit, an excuse to justify what the Saviors had done by taking what didn’t belong to them. Above all, it put the blame onto your people.

Aaron scoffed, and you just tell by the nodding of his head that he was going to lose it. At least he was calmer than you thought.

“Are you saying that… Eric’s death was my fault?”

Negan was silent, and the tension was thick enough to slice with a knife.

“Well,” said Aaron, inching closer to Negan and spiking your blood pressure as you stood behind him, trying to figure out what he was going to do, “if I failed Eric, then you failed your wife.”

Negan was stoic, but something struck a cord there.

“Careful,” he said.

“Yeah, she, uh… she died hating you.”

Aaron, you thought, this would be a good time to shut the hell up.

Alas, the family curse of saying too much was showing itself again.

“And you will never see her again,” he continued, much to your dismay. Negan chuckled slightly in response. “You wanna say something?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and looked over Aaron’s shoulder at you. “Behind you.”

Aaron turned quickly and hit one of the approaching walkers in the skull with his metal arm, but the other walker overpowered you in your failure to notice it.

“Ah!” you cried, and reached desperately at your belt to retrieve your axe. The quite literal dead weight of the walker was too heavy for you to move under, and through you pushed it away, your hands pushed all the way through its rotten chest cavity, and its mouth came dangerously close to your neck.

A sharp burning suddenly hit your eyes, and they watered and blinked rapidly, your vision blurring with each close.

“Aaron!” you cried, terrified not of the walker itself, but by the fact that you were losing your vision, and couldn’t see to fight the thing. “Help!”

He knocked the walker from you with his metal arm, and proceeded to wack its skull with the iron morning star on the end of it.

You rubbed your burning eyes desperately, as if you could bring the vision back to them just from the pressure.

“Oh, God!” you cried. “Shit, I’m blind! That walker made me blind!”

You sounded insane, but really you were more concerned with whatever was burning your retinas.

“Shit! Shit!”

“Hey, hey,” said Aaron, kneeling down beside you and taking your cheeks in his hands to look at you. You searched his face but only saw blurs, and a rough shape of his figure. “Look at me.”

“I’m trying,” you huffed. “Wh-where’s Negan?”

Aaron looked around frantically, now noticing that the prisoner was nowhere to be found.

“Shit!”

He picked you up by your arms and pulled you by your hand, leading you to the nearby abandoned house situated outside of Alexandria’s south side.

“Let’s look at your eyes,” he said, still guiding you rather sloppily towards the old house. “Worry about Negan later.”

Two more walkers followed you there, and in the darkness of the house, Aaron quickly set you down on what he could make out to be an armchair in the living room.

“Aaron!” you yelled, not knowing where he was now that you couldn’t feel him. “Don’t you leave me!”

“Walkers are coming from the other side!” he yelled back. “Just hold on. I’ll be right back.”

“No,” you said, attempting to stand up and throwing yourself at Aaron until you felt his metal arm. “You’re not leaving me, you idiot! I can’t see!”

He huffed and pulled you along through the house until he threw both of your bodies against the back door, trying to keep the two walkers out.

They had already opened it, though, and lumbered in through the cracked door, pushing you both down in their way.

“Goddamnit!” you yelled, and kicked violently at the air as you back away. You could only see the faint, blurry silhouettes of the walkers, and what you made out to be Aaron’s limp body on the ground.

“Aaron!” you yelled before throwing yourself over his body, or what you at least believed to be his body, and keeping him safe from the walkers.

Unlooping your axe from your belt, you raised it high, more or less guessing where the walkers’ heads might be once they came down on you.

All the while, you jostled Aaron’s shoulders back and forth, trying to wake him from his unconscious state.

“Aaron…” you groaned. “Shit.”

The walkers stumbled forwards, and although you managed to lodge the blade of your axe into one of their legs, it only made matters worse as it prematurely fell onto you, and came dangerously close to biting your arm.

You couldn’t see most of it happening, but you heard the walker’s last snarl as something struck it in the head from above you, and the other one soon thudded to the floor as well.

The phrase “you couldn’t believe your eyes” had never been more applicable, both because your vision was so blurred, and because you swore you saw the figure of Negan above you.

“Negan?”

He huffed and looked at you for a while, with a look somewhere between smugness and pity.

“You all right?” he finally said, though you didn’t answer, only huffed as you tried to lift Aaron’s limp body.

Negan rushed to your side to help you, hoisting you up by your waist and leading both of you over to the living room where he sat you down on the sofa with Aaron.

“Can you see?” he asked.

“Barely,” you said, though your vision was gradually clearing up, and now you could just make out the details of his face. “It’s getting better, though.”

“Hogweed,” he said, procuring his canteen from his pack.

“Wh-what?”

He handed the canteen to you as you rubbed your eyes. “Those flowers growing out of the walkers, it’s hogweed. Nasty shit. Causes rashes, blindness…”

“Is it permanent?”

“Sometimes… Wash your eyes out with that.” He gestured to the canteen in your hands. “That’ll help.”

You nodded and did as he said, pouring some water into your hands and bringing them up to your eyes.

“Aaron,” you said, still scrubbing at your burning eyes. “Can you check on Aaron?”

He took a glance at Aaron, and noticed he was breathing. “He’s fine. Just out cold. Must’ve hit his head goin’ down.” He turned back to look at you. “You good? Can you see?”

You blinked your eyes rapidly, grimacing all the while at the still lingering burning feeling around your eyes. Still, the more you blinked, the more your vision seemed to clear, and now you could make out even finer details.

“Um, yeah… Yeah, it’s better.” You immediately say yourself up to look at Aaron, who was, sure enough, out cold. “Shit,” you muttered. “We can’t go back with him like this.”

“Nah,” agreed Negan, stepping away to look through the slats of the boarded up window. “Best thing to do would be wait until dawn. He’ll be up by then, with one hell of a headache.” He turned to look at you, watching you straighten out his body on the couch, and drape him with a nearby blanket. “You should rest.”

You gave him a quick glance before looking back down at Aaron and wiping his face of the dried blood from the walkers, trying to give him some semblance of comfort.

“I’m fine. I can see now.”

“You took a pretty hard fall. Twice,” he said, coming closer to you now. “I’ll take watch.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m not dozing off while you run away, or worse.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Kill you?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t be worse than what you’ve done before.”

He was taken aback, then broke out into another smile. “Man, you people just can’t let that shit go.”

You rose up from the couch and crossed over to him, incensed and just about to lose it, if it weren’t for the walkers probably not too far from where you were.

“Why should we?” you hissed at him with narrowed eyes. “What you did, what you took from us… Do you have any idea what it was like? To live everyday in fear that someone else was going to die, just because Negan felt like it? To have everything in your home taken from you? To… to not know if he’s…” You swallowed hard and trailed off before turning around and trying to compose yourself.

“I know,” he said softly, and you felt his presence come closer to you again. “I mean, I don’t know what it’s like… But I know it was hard for you.” He tried resting a hand on your shoulder, but you jolted away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, tears glistening in your furious, wild eyes as you glared him down. “I was in that line,” you said more quietly now. “I was there, so was Aaron. Back when we went to the outpost, when we took out your people… I didn’t know. If I did, I would’ve never done it. I didn’t even really want to do it in the first place, but I did it because the Saviors were bad people, who took things from other people.”

You wiped your nose and held back a sniffle. “When I was in that line, and you… y-you killed Glenn, and Abraham, and I thought you might kill Daryl, or Aaron… I just wanted it all to be over. It made me wish I had died a long time ago, that we all had, then this wouldn’t be happening.”

Negan was silent still, and for once in his life, he had nothing to say.

“When you took Daryl away…” Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes, as if to banish away whatever images came to mind. “You took my whole world… And I thought… I—I thought…”

“You thought I’d kill him.”

“I did.” You wiped your tears away and avoided looking Negan directly in the eye, ashamed to let him see you cry. “I knew that someday, one of us would die. That… that one of us would be left alone. I at least hoped that we could be together when it happened, you know? Every time I closed my eyes when he was gone, I saw that… that bat—”

Shaking your head, you willed the thought from your mind. “I thought about how awful, to die like that, alone. And all I wanted, if it had to happen…” Your voice broke, and tears fell harder than you had allowed them to in a while. “If it had to happen, I wanted to be with him. So I could tell him just how much he meant to me, how much he changed me. When you took him away, you took away any peace I ever had, knowing that it was going to be me and him. Together.”

The last of your tears subsided with a clearing of your throat as you wiped your face with the sleeve of your jean jacket.

“So that’s why I can’t let that shit go,” you said with a shrug, now able to face him again. “I can’t. Doesn’t matter what you say or do, I can never forget it. Maybe… maybe there's some kind of forgiveness in there, but you hurt him, and that I could never forgive.”

He lowered his head now, unable to look you completely in the eye after what you’d said.

Of course he remembered that night, too. It was hazy, but he remembered it. One thing that always stuck out to him was how much you had cried, before he’d even killed anybody. He remembered touching your cheek, taking the fallen tear in his hand and rubbing it between his fingers till it dissipated, and he remembered the disheveled, tattered looking man next to you, nearly snarling at him as he touched you.

Above all, he remembered how you cried for him when he dragged him away, and how you held your head in your hands and rocked back and forth in abject grief.

He remembered that he felt nothing, and something.

“I should’ve killed him,” he said calmly, to which you raised your head and flared your nostrils, losing your grip again. “Should’ve killed him, instead of that Asian kid.”

“Glenn,” you said through clenched jaws. “His name was Glenn.”

“Right,” he huffed. “You know, your hellhound got him killed. You know that, right? Could’ve just been red, but he had to stir things up. Couldn’t keep his cool. Yeah, I should’ve killed him, but I didn’t. You know why? ‘Cause of that face.” He raised his hand to gesture at you, twirling his finger around in the air. “‘Cause nothin’ so… so beautiful should go through that.”

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Beautiful? Are you shitting me? You just told me you regret not killing my husband, and now you’re complimenting me? I wish we had a psychiatrist just to diagnose you with whatever personality disorder is in that sick head of yours.”

He broke out into yet another obnoxious smile, and you felt stupid for thinking for just a moment that maybe he’d changed.

“It’s all me, darlin’,” he said with a chuckle. “All Negan, all the time.”

You shook your head and sighed, then moved past Negan to sit yourself down beside the window on a nearby stool. “Sleep,” you said sternly. “I’m taking watch. I’ll wake you up when Aaron’s up, then we’ll leave at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The dawn broke not long after that, with streams of warm, yellow light shooting through the cracks in the slats of the boarded up window. You moved a little to better see it, always infatuated with the transition from night to day.

The clouds were tinted with a soft coral pink, and the ones further from the sun, higher in the sky, were illuminated to a muted purple, darker as you lifted your eyes higher to see the remnants of night still clinging to life.

Looking back straight ahead, the sun began to peak over the distant rolling hills, and the silhouettes of three walkers, waddling through the muddy meadow, broke up the image, bringing the whole world back to reality.

It was a rather cheesy thought, but you hoped that wherever Daryl was, he was looking at the same sunrise, and thinking of you, just as you were thinking of him.

~

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[the-late-one]

It’s chaos at first. A storm. Each crew is as surprised as the other that they are here, now, opposed to each other, and supposed to fight against one another. 

The Queen Anne’s men start it, trying to fight like their captain always asked them to. But they can’t. Not when The Revenge’s ones only try to avoid their blades, take down their guns, and scream for them to stop.

Then, between the fighting filibusters, appears the first captain. The blond one. Stede walks across the deck, searching, looking, but not calling, not yet.

And he appears, like a ghost, in a cloud of dark smoke. Blackbeard. Edward. 

“Ed…” it’s a whisper. A silent call. A disbelief.

Blackbeard goes down the stairs from the helm, gun in one hand. Stede can recognize him, he wonders how.

The silence falls over the ship. The time stops. Everyone around them backs off. Only a hoarse voice echoes against the waves.

“‘Thought the next time I would see you would be in hell,” Blackbeard stops in front of Stede, leaving some good steps between them. “...Bonnet.” The name escapes his throat like a cursed word, and a tortuous grin alights his face.

Above them, the rain continues to fall. Stede, sword in hand, try to approach the man in black  “Ed, please, let me-”

The gun points at him. At the other end, Blackbeard's look seems closed, dead, empty. 

“No… Ed-”

“The name is Blackbeard, dog. This is your last chance to call him right.”

It’s the click of the mechanism. The awful sound preceding death. But Stede can’t see Blackbeard. He refuses to. He isn’t there to spread death. He is there to find life again.

“Darling I-” click !

Stede closes his eyes, but nothing happens. He opens them again when he can hear a mumbling “Fuckin’ rain !” click click click !

The gun is aimed at his feet, but he is fine. Next thing he sees is Blackbeard throwing away the useless weapon across the ship. 

Stede sighs, taking a step further “Ed, this is ridiculous.”

“Stay away from me !” the captain barks, taking his knife in hand. “Don’t you fucking step closer ! Get the fuck out of my ship !” Blackbeard’s voice breaks on the last word.

And Stede knows. He knows that Ed is here, inside, frightened like an injured animal. And Stede is the injury. 

Staring at the big dark eyes a few feet away, Stede takes a second to compose himself, and in an ultimate gesture, throws his sword to Blackbeard’s feet. “Alright. I’m the problem.”

He can see the fear, the rage in those brown eyes, and decides to ignore it, just for one moment, one last moment. 

Holding his hands apart, Stede opens his arms and points his chin to the knife menacing him.

“Stab me.”

If he didn’t know the captain that much, Stede would’ve missed the hint of confusion building on Blackbeard’s face. Purposely, he lets a few seconds run silently between them before he exposes his body a bit more.

“Come on ! What ? Are you scared ? Of me ?” Stede takes another step forward “Take your blade and run me through.”

On the other side of the deck, Blackbeard loses his hard expression, frowning even more but jaws unclenched, as if words wanted to flow out but couldn’t. 

“I rather die by your hand than live in a world where the sight of me frightens you and my own existence turns you into…” Stede looks at the captain from head to toe then the Revenge “This…”

To that, Blackbeard flinched. His knife trembles. Stede continues, taking the full sight of his once love for the first time as he takes another step.

“My god Ed, look at you. I did this ? I really did all of this ?” His voice breaks “I never-I didn’t want that.” A tear rolls down his cheek “I swear Ed I didn’t-”

Edward lets his knife lower, eyes locked on Stede, kohl tracing black paths under his eyes as it melts under the rain, or maybe his shining eyes are for something in it. 

“You were everything to me Edward. Please let me- Let me explain ! Let me show you !” Stede falls on his knees “I didn’t want to destroy you. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Edward watches him kneel on the ground, and without him noticing, the knife is now resting next to his leg.

“I wanted to do things right, for once. I promise.” Stede raises his head “I wanted to do something good.”

The knife falls, and Ed too. The rain around them could have stopped, they would’ve never noticed. The rest of their conversation is made of looks, tears, head shakes, and heavy breathing, until finally, Ed manages to pull three words from his mouth.

“You came back.”

And Stede wants to smile, he really wants to, but instead, more tears come to burn his eyes.

“I wish I never left.”

Out of nowhere, from behind a door Ed had closed for months and months in his mind, a huff shakes his shoulders, sounding like a scoff, and Stede hopes that the corner of Ed’s mouth is really curling up. But he doesn’t get the time to check for any longer that Ed throws himself to him, circling his body with a mix of warm skin and cold leather. 

Stede’s hand finds its way to Ed’s damp hair, holding him steady with the second one so they don’t fall backward. 

Chest shaking against each other, face buried in shoulders and necks, the co-captains don’t need any words for now to know that today was the last day they were separated, and the first one of their eternity together.

[erodasfishtacos]

Hiii bestie!!! Could you write about y/n being in danger and gang Harry gets all worried and scared (of course) and saves her. (I love your stories so much)

warning: violence, blood, guns

Harry was waiting for YN at home after she was going to the store to buy tampons (he offered to go but he normally bought the wrong kind).

He’s watching a game of football as he also continuously glances at the clock - keeping time of how long she’s been gone.

After twenty-five minutes, he gets a bit impatient, he wanted to start their movie night (sue him sometimes he liked cute romantic shit).

When he rings her mobile, it picks up after the first ring, and what he hears next sends a straight chill down his spine.

“We were waiting for you to call, Diablo,” A gruff, smokey voice rasps through the speaker of his wife’s phone.

His heart fucking drops but anger takes over in mere seconds as he’s off the couch and storming to their secret weapons room through a hidden passageway.

“What the fuck do y’cunts want?” Harry hisses furiously, unsure of who exactly this voice belongs to on the other end.

He hears a whimper in the background. He’d know that sound anywhere - usually he heard it when she was underneath him but right now it sounded pained and scared.

“If you fuckin’ hurt - I guarantee you that your whole family will be dead by tomorrow,” Harry promises, pushing down the panic as he grabs a duffel to begin shoving a shotgun and assault rifle in.

His desert eagle was tucked in his waistband already - were it always sat.

On his burner phone, he manages to text and send out the GPS location of where his wife is at - idiots most likely don’t know that he has a tracker on her phone.

There was also a GPS tracker embedded in the ‘H’ necklace she always wore right behind the three small diamonds so no one would ever be able to spot it.

“Business. We know you have a shipment going into the South Bay at midnight. Rumor has it you have 6 million pounds of coke on their,” The man replies.

Bingo.

Harry automatically realizes that this dude is a fucking idiot and fell for a diversion tactic - that shipment was being delivered on the other side of the city at three in the morning.

He didn’t get to be the most dangerous, successful gang leader without his own skills and manipulation of his own.

Harry always had to try to pick off the rats and snitches in his gang because people like to squeal for money and drugs.

Every opportunity he got, he told a couple of his rookie members fake information to see if they’d betray him.

It looks like someone was given fake information that Harry had fed two newer members earlier in the week.

“Why the fuck would y’idiots just sneak attack? Why the fuck d’you have my wife?” Harry snarls, getting a influx of text from his associates stating they’re on their way.

“We were actually going to be nice, just hold her until you agree - not hurt her, you know? But your little bitch managed to kill two of my men before we could wrangle her.”

Thatta girl.

God, he really fucking loved his wife and had no fear of putting his on life on the line to protect her - would take a bullet for her any day.

“I can’t wait t’find you and torture you until you’re begging for me to just put you out of your misery,” Harry promises, his heart pounding, vein protruding from his forehead.

“You really shouldn’t threaten me when I have this pretty little number of yours tied up to a chair with a gun to her head,” The man laughs with amusement, “I’ll have you talk to her now.”

Harry hears the man bark at YN, “Speak bitch!”

“He-hello?” YN whimpers pathetically, “Baby, I need help.”

And it sounds wrong - but relief flushes through him at the sound of her pleas. It was completely an act because it’s not truly how she sounds when she’s scared.

“Brat, y’faking it right now right?” Harry makes sure, getting onto the interstate - uncaring of stop signs and red lights.

“Yes. Yes, come get me. Yes, baby,” YN continues and god, she could win an Oscar for her performance and it really shouldn’t get him hard right now.

-

When he pulls up to a brick building that looks abandoned, his men are already shooting with visible bodies collapsed on the floor.

Harry yanks his favorite assault rifle out of his trunk, tugging the strap over his head, and positioning it as he strides forward.

“Boss, we haven’t cleared it completely. You can’t go in yet,” Niall informs him as he reload quickly, breathing heavy.

“I don’t fuckin’ care. My wife’s in there,” Harry snaps, quickly taking out the last two visible men before he is able to step through the door.

He is about to turn a corner and a man steps out from behind it - Harry doesn’t hesitate to lay his heavily-clad ringed knuckles straight into his face knocking him down before landing one fatal shot.

When he steps into a bare, musky old basement - his beautiful wife is tied to a chair, ropes keeping her arms tied behind her, and a cloth in her mouth.

“‘Bout time you showed up,” The rival states, standing behind his wife with a gun running along her skin.

She’s still in her holey tee shirt and biker shorts with white sneakers that were blood sodden like her clothing.

Harry illuminates pure fury when his gaze meets her - but her eyes are twinkling like she knows something he doesn’t.

He noticed that there was a high concentration of blood near her left side and that the fabric was torn - he had cut her and she was bleeding.

But she spits out the rag, rasping out to her husband in a teasing tone, “Took you long enough, dickhead,” before she’s slipping her hands from the restraints that she had gotten out of in mere minutes.

Her hand goes right for the man’s crotch - taking him by complete surprise, he hunches over and YN is able to get off the chair and knee him straight in the nose.

“S’your turn now,” YN replies, “I need to bandage this to stop the bleeding - it’s just superficial.”

Harry doesn’t remember much from that point on beside the fact that he pulled that man’s teeth out one by one and just as he had told him - by the time Harry was done with him he’d being begging for death.

And boy did he beg for Harry to just end it because Harry’s torture methods was worse than being dead to the world.

After he’s done, he nods at his men to clean up the mess, and finds his wife instantly, intertwining their hands and assuring her, “I’ll stick y’up when we get home.”

-

YN’s sat on their bathroom countertop in nothing but a clean pair of underwear after Harry had gently bathed her dirt and blood away.

She had quieted, the confidence and adrenaline having faded off, and she lets out a loud whimper when he begins to thread the needle through her tender, swollen skin.

“M’sorry, my queen,” Harry apologizes sympathetically as he threads through to close up the wound.

“Hurts,” His wife hisses with a crack in her voice, hands resting on his bare shoulders as he concentrates on her side.

“It’s done, did s’good baby,” He murmurs encouragingly, disposing of the items before cupping her jaw, “How are y’feelin’?”

“I’m fine,” She replies instantly, swallowing and avoiding his gaze.

“You’re not okay and that’s okay,” Harry reminds her, chest hurting when tears start to dribble down her cheeks.

“I was scared,” She whispers, “And all I wanted was you.”

“Baby, baby fuckin’ look at me,” Harry urges, tilting her chin up and hands coming to massage at her thighs, “M’sorry I wasn’t there right away, I fucking would die for you.”

It was amazing how much YN changed Harry.

-

Jaymee was a really sweet girl, bright puppy dog eyes and a wide smile with cherub cheeks, “That was amazing,” she had giggles after Harry rolls off of her.

“Get the fuck out now,” He dismisses, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling on his briefs.

Her face drops, “But…we just? I thought tha-“

Harry cuts her off there, crushing the cute girl’s dreams when he scoffs, “Y’thought what? I didn’t want anything from you but your cunt. I don’t cuddle or give a single fuck - so get the fuck out.”

-

“You’re my soulmate, fuckin’ crazy with how gone I am for you,” Harry follows the sentence but a line of kisses across her breasts and collarbones.

“Please, need it,” YN requests lowly, hand coming to tangle into his curls and lead him to her breast to suck at her hard nipple.

“Y’side, brat,” Harry reminds her, “Let just lay y’out, make y’come, and then we can cuddle, okay?”

And he does, spread her out on their bed, licks deep into her until she’s quivering with pleasure, and then tucks her right into his chest and he soothes her to sleep.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Can we pweas get some more of Bobbys brother 🥺

Ok, I think I’m gonna elaborate on the last ask where we met him for the first time and make it a drabble. This is gonna take place after the Bill arc and have Bobby and kitten officially married and living together. I’m also gonna have kitten be referred to in the third person here, just because Ari is going to get his own reader and this will help me keep my own sanity.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, exhibitionism, rough sex, degradation, implied f receiving oral sex), Bobby being a bastard, 18+ only

Ari grinned to himself as he knocked on his brother’s front door, the sound of a dog barking excitedly catching him a little off guard. He could’ve sworn he heard the sound of a woman screaming under the barking, surprisingly not in the way he would have expected a woman to be screaming if she was stuck with Robert, she sounded like she was enjoying herself.

“Oh my god, that dog needs to shut the fuck up!” That sounded like Robert, the man’s voice was pleasant as ever. “I swear to god I’m gonna shoot it one of these days… yeah I put fucking pants on.” The front door ripped open to reveal a wild looking Robert, his hair disheveled like someone had buried their hands in it repeatedly and bites and scratches all over his torso. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of unbuttoned jeans, and Ari was pretty sure the lower half of his face was coated in slick, it looked wet. “What? Oh fuck no.”

“Christ, is that any way to greet your big brother?” Ari winked before shoving past Robert and strolling into the house, ignoring the man’s displeased growl and tossing his bag aside before heading to grab himself a drink from the bar. “Was that your wife making all that noise? Thought she was a sweet little catholic girl.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Robert was openly snarling at Ari now, his fists clenched at his sides like he was seriously considering using them. “You’re supposed to be on the west coast.”

“Yeah, well… California started to get boring, so I’m back.” Ari jumped when a massive shepherd came trotting into the room and stood beside Robert, trying to hide a grin when the animal nudged started his hand and his brother mindlessly scratched its ear. “When did you get a dog?”

“It’s not my dog.” Robert seemed to realize he was petting the thing and scowled at it, crossing his arms over his chest and forcing Schatzi to lope over to inspect the visitor. “Do you actually fucking want something, or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?”

“All this language, is your kid not around or something?” Ari cocked his head when Robert’s jaw clenched, looking closer around the room and noticing how all the family photos were missing and the decor wasn’t quite as kitschy as it had been last time he visited. “Oh, what the fuck did you do, Rob?”

Robert opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off when suddenly a very naked woman came storming into the living room, her skin also decorated in a variety of bites and bruises that didn’t seem to bother her in the least as she glared at Ari’s brother.

“What the fuck is taking so long, Bobby?” She squared right up to Robert and this time Ari didn’t bother to hide his grin when Robert puffed his chest out and an angry flush crept up his neck. “How long does it take to get rid of one of our dumbass neighbors? Oh.” She finally spotted Ari and he gave her a little nod, not bothering to hide the way his eyes raked over her curves as she rested a hand on her hip and cocked her head at him. “Who’s this?”

“My brother- half brother.” Bobby growled when she just smiled at Ari, giving the man her name and moving his body in front of hers when she made no love to cover herself, rolling his eyes when Ari repeated her name in that deep purr that always made him sound like he was ready to fuck anything that moved. “Go put some fucking clothes on.”

“It’s my fucking house, Bobby.” She ducked around him and moved towards the kitchen, pissing Bobby off even more when she added an extra sway to her hips as his brother watched her walk away. “You want something to eat, Ari?”

“Sandwich would be peachy.” Ari beamed when she turned back to him and winked, not able to get enough of the infuriated expression on Robert’s face as this woman completely ignored him. “And who exactly are you to my baby brother, sweetheart?”

“She’s my fucking wife, when she’s not being a goddamn slut.” Robert prowled around the counter and yanked her into his chest by her throat, brushing his nose over her hair in as close to an affectionate gesture as Ari had ever seen from the man, even as he hissed at her. “If you’re through putting on your little show, quit being a brat and get dressed, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now, kitten.”

“What? Are you gonna beat me in front of your brother?” She rolled her eyes and shoved her husband off, bringing Ari his sandwich as he chuckled softly and drank the sight of her in some more. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you.” Ari winked at you before you walked back to the kitchen, settling back on the sofa and taking a bite of his sandwich. “What happened to Mary?”

“Old broad killed herself.” The look Bobby shot her should have frozen her in her tracks, but she just shrugged at him. “Kid too, nasty business, good thing Bobby has me around to cheer him up.”

Ari just shook his head as he looked back at Robert, huffing out a breath when his brother avoided his gaze. He’d warned him he wouldn’t be able to do the domestic life, shame the kid had to pay for it, even if he had been a spectacular idiot.

“Are you done running your fucking mouth?” Robert snarled as he walked closer to her, pressing his body against hers until she was caged against the counter. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“You want me to shut up, Bobby?” Ari was pretty sure neither of them even knew he was there anymore. “You know how to get me to quit talking.”

“Oh, you you think I won’t fuck the bitch out of you just because he’s here?” Or maybe they were very aware of his presence, Ari couldn’t help but be amused that his brother found someone who got him so riled up. “That’s a risky bet, kitten, now quit being a fucking cunt.”

“Make me.”

The only warning was a slight flare of Robert’s nostrils before he pounced, slamming her face into the counter as she let out a pleased laugh that devolved into a whine when he slammed into her without any prep. He shoved his fingers in her mouth as he started pounding her against the cabinets while her eyes rolled back in her head, his other hand tangled in her hair to yank her back on his cock as he turned his attention back to his brother.

“You’re back for a job then?” Robert slammed her head into the counter when she let out a moan around his hand, curling over her and burying his face in her hair as his hips kept slapping against her ass, Ari could’ve sworn he heard him murmuring softly into her ear.

“Yeah, got a couple lined up.” Ari smirked as he moved behind the two of them to rinse off his plate, and this time he definitely heard his brother muttering about how she was such a little slut and was lucky she had such a sweet snatch or he’d tie her to the bed for the rest of the week. “I’m gonna head back to the hotel, but I’m sure I’ll see you around. Lovely meeting you sweetheart.” He laughed when he heard his brother growl before the sounds of messy kissing joined the slapping of skin against skin that was increasing in pace, waving over his shoulder at the pair of them as he made his way to the front door. “Seeing you in such wedded bliss makes me think I should settle down myself, Rob. Maybe find myself a cute little house and some sweet thing to share it with.”

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs: End

The trip out to New York is uneventful. You sleep in the car occasionally but you do stop at a couple of hotels you never sleep super well. Besides there’s something about being in a car with your Alpha that just soothes you to sleep. You wake at one point and hear him talking softly on the phone.

“Nat, I don’t want a big party. It’s going to stress her out and she’s probably going to be close to a heat so I don’t want a ton of people around. Just you, Clint, Wanda, Carol and Jarvis.”

“Everyone is so excited though.”

“They’re going to have to wait. Her well-being is my first concern.”

“Steve,”

“Natasha.” He warns lowly and you hear her sigh.

“Fine. Fine. I’ve got a few places lined up for you to look at as well as a property so if building your own place is more appealing you can do that. I don’t know how sensitive your Omega’s nose is.”

“I doubt she does either. We’re about four hours out. Thanks for doing all of this Nat.”

“I’m glad you finally found someone worthy of you Alpha.” You don’t love that she calls him Alpha, so you take a deep breath so Steve knows that you’re awake.

“Thank you Natasha. See you soon.”

“Bye.” She says and Steve hangs up.

“How much did you hear?”

“Her call you Alpha.” You admit grumpily and he laughs softly.

“Are you a little jealous?” When you grumble in response he sobers up, “They all do that Omega, not just Natasha. It’s a respect thing.”

“It was jarring. You’re my Alpha.”

“I know, I’m sorry I should’ve warned you.” He soothes, his hand is warm on your thigh when he reaches over. You trace the back of his hand with one of your fingers.

“How close are we?”

“About 4 hours, you need to stop?”

“No, I was just curious. I’m nervous too, I’m meeting your pack.”

“You’re only meeting a couple today. The rest will trickle in when you’re ready, take as long as you need.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The rest of the ride is spent in comfortable conversation and singing along to the radio. He puts you at such ease that you forget to be anxious, at least until Steve pulls off of the freeway.

“Take a breath Honey, it’s going to be fine.” He promises and you cling to his hand as he drives for a couple more minutes then pulls up to a little house. “Let me know when you’re ready to go in.”

“Can, god this is so stupid, can you calm me?”

“Oh Honey I can absolutely do that. C’mere.” He mutters before kissing you softly, his hands cup your face and you feel the sense of calm wash over you. He pulls away from you then kisses along your jaw, before covering your mouth once more. “How do you feel Omega?” He murmurs softly and you hum lowly.

“Good.”

“Ready?”

“Yes, as I will ever be.” His calm makes you feel a little drowsy but it’s better than the panic you could be in. Steve gets out of the car and you follow him, Cooper waits patiently in the back to be let out. You take his leash and he walks calmly next to you, Steve meets you at the front of the car. He takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze,

“I don’t think anyone is here yet.” Sure enough when he unlocks the door the house is empty.

“Oh god it smells good in here.” You mutter softly, “Can I let Cooper wander?”

“It’s your house too now Honey. You don’t have to ask.” You unhook Cooper’s leash and he wanders around the living room. “You look good in here, you belong here.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Steve.” You tell him giving him a tight hug.

“Oh Honey.” He says gently before kissing your cheek. “Wanna see the house?” You nod and he leads you through the house showing you where things are. The doorbell rings and you tense up and the calm washes over you again as Steve presses a kiss to the side of your head. Cooper barks and you can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

“Thanks Steve.” You follow him downstairs and when the door opens it’s just Sam and Bucky and a pretty blonde woman who you assume is Carol.

“Had to fight Becca to get her to stay home.” Bucky says with a punch to Steve’s arm, “thought she was gonna scream me to death when I told her ‘bout your Omega.” Carol gives you a kind smile as she follows Sam into the house, she smells like Oranges and chocolate.

“Wish she would’ve screamed you to death. Then we wouldn’t have to listen to your dumb ass anymore.” Sam says lowly.

“I see the two of you have had enough time together.” Carol says with a laugh, “Hi Fawn, I’m Carol. Sam’s much, much better half.” She doesn’t try to shake your hand or touch you in anyway which you appreciate.

“Hi, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for spoiling Sam, he says you’re one hell of a cook.” She says kindly, “We live right next door so when the boys are at work feel free to call if you need anything.” She puts a business card down on the end table then drops down onto Sam’s lap.

Next comes a young woman with auburn hair and a tall man with purple hair. Steve introduces them as Wanda, an Alpha and Viz, a Beta. They’re one of the newer pairs in Steve’s pack but it seems like everyone was just kind of waiting for it to happen. Wanda is a calm in the storm that is the three other Alpha’s currently wresting for control of the remote on your couch.

“Enough.” Steve growls at the three of them as their scents spike and you bury your face into his chest.

Natasha and Clint come next, Nat is the one that you’d heard on the phone earlier and when you see her that little possessiveness rears it’s head. She’s beautiful. “Omega.” Steve rumbles into your ear and you feel so silly for being jealous of her using his title.

“You didn’t do her justice Rogers.” She says giving you a kind smile, one you tightly return. She and Clint are both Betas, she’s more smoky smelling and he’s more earthy but both are pleasant. She calls Steve Alpha once but he quickly pulls her aside and after they talk quietly she doesn’t do it again. Overall the night is a success, and you go to bed happy.

The next day is spent looking at different houses they’re about thirty minutes outside of the city. The first neither of you is thrilled with, the second doesn’t have a yard for Cooper, the third is off a busy street and smells terrible but when you pull up to the plot of land it all clicks.

“Would you be mad if I said I wanted to build?” You ask Steve as you stand at the top of the hill the property is on. The view here is incredible overlooking a river and some woods below you.

“Not at all.” He assures you, a hand on the small of your back, “whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“It’s going to be so expensive.”

“That’s okay. I’m independently wealthy.” You stare up at him for a second to see if his kidding,

“I’m sorry what?”

“Old money. If you didn’t want to you’d never have to do another book again.”

“Why are you a firefighter?”

“I like serving the community, and I’m good at it.” You stare at him for a moment longer then look back out over the property.

“This feels right doesn’t it?”

“Yea Honey it does.” He agrees, so you sign some paperwork and buy the plot of land. You want to get building started before your heat hits and you smell like an Omega and you do so just in time. Apparently Clint runs a very successful construction firm so you get the layout of the house done in two days.

When you wake on the third day you know you’re in your heat. You wake up feeling just as tired as you did yesterday and everything smells so bad except Steve. He goes to get up and you whimper softly, and he freezes as you reach out to him.

“Honey are you in heat?”

“I think so. It’s been so long since I’ve had an actual heat.”

“Do you want to talk to one of our Omegas?”

“You actually have those?” He huffs out a chuckle.

“Yea, not many but we do. Becca is one.” A cramp hits and you gasp in surprise. Steve reaches for his phone and you grab onto his arm.

“No, I just need you Steve.”

“Omega are you sure?”

“Yes, please Steve. I wanted to be sure that without my suppressants you were still my Alpha. You are. Please.” He rolls so that he’s on top of you, his knees between yours an arm on either side of your head and his scent all around you. “You smell so good Steve.”

“So do you Omega.” He grumbles he’s about to kiss you when his phone rings. You both groan loudly before he rolls off of you and grabs it.

“What?” Someone on the other end talks, “No, my Omega is in heat.” He says before hanging up. The phone rings again before he even puts it down so he stalks to the window, opens it and throws the phone outside.

“You know there is such thing as a power button.”

“I was going to smash it so I feel like I should get some credit for my self control.” He says stalking back toward you. This time his mouth finds yours before he’s settled back over you, his dog tags hit your chest and you cling to them keeping him close to you. Steve kisses down your jaw to your pulse point then down to your scent gland.

“Do it.” You whisper, “please.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You’ve never been more sure about anything in your life. You feel his breath on your scent gland and you take a slow breath, then he bites. The pain and pleasure are so overwhelming that you black out. When you come to Steve is still placing soft kisses to your face.

“Omega. You back?”

“That was- indescribable. Thank you Alpha.”

“Careful Honey or you’re going to trigger my rut and then I won’t be able to spoil you.”

“I don’t need to be spoiled.”

“Too damn bad Honey. You’re going to be for the rest of your life. Now, I’m gonna go make some breakfast Becca always said day two was the harder day so I want to make sure you’re up to strength.” He goes to get up but you’ve still got a grip on his dog tags. “Omega.”

“You don’t wanna? I mean I thought-“

“Oh Omega I want you, terribly, but I don’t want to wear you out for tomorrow. From what I remember day one is for lots of sleep and comfort, day two is for sex and day three is for more sleep and comfort. Do you want me to have Bucky come take Cooper?”

“Yea. But you’ll have to go get your phone.”

“Damn it.” He grumbles but he gets to his feet, grabs the shirt he was wearing before bed and passes it to you before getting a clean one for himself. You pull his shirt on and sigh happily brushing your fingers gently over his mark. Steve glances over at you and gives you a small smile then holds a hand out for yours. “Wanna come with me to the kitchen? I can kiss ya some more while we cook.” You nod and climb out of bed with a wide smile taking the hand he offers, you’ll gladly go wherever he goes for rest of your life.

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger @blackwidownat2814 @sky0401 @winterbuckystan1917 @dontbescaredtosingalong

[hrina]

The Thrill of the Chase, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 3.6k REQUESTED: no

hi! it’s been a while since i’ve posted something on here lol, i wonder if anyone still remembers me 🤕

this is PART 1 of the hunter!AU that i’ve been writing. while the story is a patreon-exclusive, my patrons gave me permission to post the first chapter here on tumblr for anyone who’s curious about the kind of content i offer on patreon. 

if you want to read the rest of this series and unlock access to my other exclusive work, you can sign up for my patreon here. and as always, please reblog the fics you like and leave feedback for the authors, because we pour a lot of time and effort into our stories. happy reading 💌

~*~

Harry’s life is simple.

He performs only the essentials—wakes up and eats an apple for breakfast. Drizzles some lemon juice into his flask of water to keep his teeth healthy and clean. Shrugs on a few heavy furs. Lets Magnus outside to keep him from howling and pawing at the door. Sharpens his arrows. Knocks on the threshold of the cabin once for good luck. Goes hunting.

Upon returning, he crouches next to the firepit, laying out his kills and skinning them. He cooks one for himself—something small, like a squirrel, or a rabbit. Others, he saves for the market—fox, deer, coyote, boar. The pelts, tusks, and antlers are extremely sought-after (particularly by nobles), and often earn enough coin to carry him through the rest of the week.

He doesn’t entertain visitors, because who in their right mind would trek up the side of a mountain just to seek out one lonely hunter? Despite that, he’s come to appreciate his solitude. The silence is familiar—comfortable. Besides, Magnus proves both excellent and useful company, if the sheer volume of their kills offers any indication.

A simple life for a simple man.

Harry doesn’t need anyone else.

“Ready to go, mutt?”

He scratches behind Magnus’ droopy ears. One of the hound’s hindlegs thumps frantically in response. Harry chuckles, slinging his bow over his right shoulder and pulling open the cabin door.

“Come on, then.”

The sky is a dark, cloudy grey, and the smell of oncoming rain is unmistakable. Still, the two of them persevere, ducking past the trees at the edge of the clearing.

It’s a bad day to hunt.

With the threat of a storm looming just above the canopy, the animals have forgone their typical foraging patterns in favour of taking shelter. Harry only manages to kill a rabbit, and even then, it’s a messy shot. He usually gets them right through the eye—a quick, neat splice that results in minimal suffering. This time, however, his foot slips on a damp stone; he fumbles, and the arrow buries itself into the creature’s stomach.

“Fuck.”

The rabbit is still alive when he reaches it, its furry body heaving with shaky, uneven breaths. Harry kneels down, apologising quietly. His hand finds the scabbard strapped to his waist, and he draws a silver dagger from its depths.

He slits the poor hare’s throat just as rain begins to fall.

It’s easy work, after that. He pins the animal’s fluffy forelimbs together, tying them in place with thick, coarse rope. Magnus whimpers as Harry slides the creature’s limp body over his shoulder. He shoots the hound a tired look and shakes his head. Damp brown curls stick to his temples.

“Think that’s enough for today.”

The two of them have nearly made it back home—Harry’s boots squelch as he jumps over the small creek that flows close to the clearing—when Magnus perks up, lifting his snout and sniffing the air.

“What is it, mutt?” Harry asks.

Magnus releases a loud bark and takes off in the direction of the cabin. Harry sprints after him, one hand clutching his game while the other wraps around the leather grip of his bow.

“Magnus!” he yells.

The dog skids to a stop next to the wide trunk of a tree. He barks again and wags his tail feverishly.

Harry releases his bow, approaching with slow, cautious steps.

“What’s got you so—shit.”

You’re slumped in the mud, unconscious. Harry’s gaze rakes over your form, from your tattered blue gown to the leaves and twigs tangled in your hair. There are a few cuts littered across your face, arms, and chest. Rivulets of blood trickle down your wrist, spiderwebbing across your skin.

Magnus sticks his tongue out and pants.

“Good boy,” Harry mutters, bestowing a rugged caress atop the hound’s head.

He gathers you into his arms, paying no mind to the extra weight of your sodden dress. Your neck lolls over his bicep, sternum rising and falling with shallow, barely-there breaths. Harry carries you out of the forest and into the clearing. When he kicks open the cabin door, your eyelids flutter.

“Bear?” you mumble, lifting your head slightly. Your voice is grating, hoarse.

He looks at you. Your face contorts for only a moment before you slouch back into oblivion.

He sets you down onto the thick, woven rug splayed out in front of the hearth. He works quickly, shrugging off his furs and his game and discarding all of it without a second thought. Rain thrums against the roof, but the sound is lost amidst his heavy footsteps.

He hurries into his bedroom and pulls open the top drawer of his wooden dresser, fumbling for a glass jar and a spool of bandages. When his fingers finally make contact with the desired supplies, he darts back into the other room and kneels beside your motionless body.

He draws his dagger again, gripping the intricate material of your gown and slicing through it. Your corset proves far more challenging, practically embedded into your skin. He sets his knife aside, not willing to risk it. Instead, he hooks his fingers beneath the top of the girdle, rough knuckles brushing against your soft bosom. With a mighty tug, the structured fabric splits under his palms.

He screws open the lid on the jar and dips his thumb inside. The salve is sticky, viscous, and smells faintly of lavender. He smears it across your scrapes before inspecting your wrist.

The flesh is slashed and bloodied—how did you acquire such an injury? Canines? Claws? Harry uses the frayed edges of your dress to clean the mess. He then unwinds a few bindings from their roll, expertly bandaging your wound.

Once he’s finished, he sits back on his haunches, expelling a stale breath. His work is far from over—he needs to wash you, to scrub off all the dirt and grime staining your skin. He’ll go down to the creek with a cloth, he thinks, and saturate it with cool water. He’ll pick the leaves and branches out of your hair, and cover you in spare furs to keep you warm. He’ll prepare a hot meal so that you may eat when you wake. You’ll be ravenous, certainly.

These thoughts whirl around in his head, along with the realisation that you might expire here, lying on an old rug in the middle of a stranger’s secluded home. Still, he watches your chest rise, swelling with proof of your vitality. The sight puts him at ease.

Harry aims a cursory glance over his shoulder. Magnus is stationed at the door, wet snout resting on the ground. The dog gazes at your limp body with big, solemn eyes, as though he somehow understands the severity of the situation.

“Don’t worry, mutt,” Harry tells him, knees shuffling against the floor. “I won’t let her die.”

~*~

Three days pass.

Harry curtails the duration of his hunts. He kills only the essentials: a hare or a squirrel, something small enough to cook over the fire. He has enough coin saved up from his previous trades to last him another few trips to the market.

Every morning, he prepares a simple, homely meal for you should you wake. When you do not, he eats the food in your place—he’ll be damned if it goes to waste.  

On the fourth day, he carries a bowl of soup into his room. He’s expecting to see you tucked into his bed, still unconscious. Instead, you’re alert, sitting upright and studying your surroundings. The furs that previously covered your body now pool around your waist, exposing your naked chest. When you catch sight of Harry lingering in the doorway, you gasp, fumbling for the pelts and clutching them to your sternum.

“You’re up,” he says gruffly, stepping through the threshold.

You scramble back, eyes widening in fear. He pauses.

You’re afraid, he realises, tilting his head to the side. This may be more difficult than he initially thought.

“Soup,” he says slowly, holding out the small clay bowl in his hands. “You need to eat.”

“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice is patchy and frail. “Where am I?”

He sets the dish down onto his dresser before shooting you a stern, expectant look.

“Eat.”

Upon exiting the room, he strains his ears and listens carefully. The creak of a loose floorboard—you’ve climbed out of bed. The sound of nimble footsteps pattering across the ground—you’re moving toward the door. And finally, the quiet scrape of clay against wood, indicating that your hunger has prevailed.

He nods to himself.

You’re not dead. That’s a start.

~*~

That evening, Harry is perched next to the firepit outside the cabin. The orange sun crawls down the horizon, kissing the tops of the trees. He basks in the warmth, knowing that it will soon be eradicated by the cool chill of nightfall.

He fiddles with the spit poised above the flames. He caught another rabbit, today. The creature’s fur is laid out across the grass, scrubbed clean of blood. The rest of it cooks over the fire, darkening with each passing minute.

A faint creak reaches Harry’s ears. He perks up, glancing at the door.

You hover just beyond the threshold, leaning nervously against the strong wooden beams. Harry relaxes and turns back around. He uses a long stick to poke at the charred logs; the kindling pops, and a few embers float into the air.

“What are you doing?” Your inquiry is soft, shaky.

His reply is curt: “Dinner.”

You approach warily, bare feet treading through the grass. When you spot the hunk of meat roasting over the flames, a feeble gasp tumbles from your lips.

“That’s barbaric.”

Harry rubs his palms against his thighs. “That’s sustenance.”

He stands, and you retreat. His attention then falls to your torso. You’ve covered yourself with the furs from his room; they hang just past the swell of your bottom, rendering you exceptionally vulnerable. Goosebumps crop up on your bare thighs, visible in the golden light of the sunset.

He hums. “You need clothes.”

You look down at the ground.

“That would be nice,” you whisper at last.

He merely grunts in response.

You follow him back inside, albeit from a distance. He strolls into his bedroom, pausing in front of a large trunk shoved against the far wall. Twin latches click open, and he begins rifling through its contents. After a few moments of silence, he produces a pale linen shirt and a pair of dark leather trousers.

“Here,” he says.

He dumps the fabric into your arms. You huff in surprise, instinctively relinquishing your hold on the pelts covering your body. They fall to the floor in a heap, exposing every inch of your skin.

An embarrassed squeak echoes in the back of your throat. Harry averts his eyes, staring pointedly up at the ceiling.

“Put those on,” he murmurs.

You nod quickly, sidestepping his broad frame. Now that you’re no longer in his line of sight, he lowers his gaze. Part of him wonders if he should say something else, but he decides against it. His legs carry him forward, and he disappears through the door.

~*~

You emerge from the bedroom a short while later, smoothing your hands over your hair in an attempt to look a bit more presentable. Harry resists the urge to tell you that here, in the mountains, appearances are hardly significant. He doesn’t own a mirror—such luxuries can only be afforded by the rich.

His clothes are too big on you, but that was to be expected. You’ve rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt and cuffed the brown leather trousers so that they cinch at your ankles. You’re anxious, incisors gnawing on your bottom lip and eyes darting around the clearing, like you’re waiting for a monster to burst forth from the bushes.

“Here.”

Harry cuts a sliver of meat from the cooked rabbit carcass resting on the spit. You sit down on a wide, round tree stump as he holds the food out in your direction.

At first, he thinks that you may vomit. Fortunately, though, he finds himself mistaken. After a long moment of deliberation, you accept the protein, bringing it up to your nose and sniffing it warily.

“It’s good,” he rasps, slicing off another strip for himself. “Rabbit—all white meat.”

He pops the piece into his mouth and chews. Slowly, you copy him, sighing happily as newfound flavour erupts over your tongue. You waste no time, then, impatiently shoving the rest of the meat into your mouth.

Harry’s lips twitch.

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing.

He simply nods. The two of you continue to eat in silence, grinding the remnants of supper between your teeth.

Eventually, your curiosity overwhelms you.

“What’s you name?” you ask, timid.

Harry sits back, wiping his dagger with the hem of his cotton shirt.

“Harry.”

“And how did you find me, Harry?”

A low chuckle resonates in the back of his throat.

“Wasn’t exactly hard. You were lying in a puddle of mud not far from here.”

Your lips part. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days.”

“Three days?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” you say softly, playing with your fingers. You hesitate before elaborating: “But I—I remember seeing your face. I thought you were a bear.”

He recalls that day, how you lifted your head weakly and uttered the word before sinking back into unconsciousness. It led him to believe that you’d been attacked. Your side of the story, however, proves much more entertaining.

“Well,” he says, exhaling brusquely, “I’m not.”

You examine him with big, tender eyes. He shifts awkwardly under the intensity of your gaze.

“No,” you finally agree. “You’re not.”

He swallows and flips the conversation around.

“Who are you?”

You stiffen, caught off-guard.

“That is…hardly relevant.”

“Perhaps,” Harry says. “But it is fair.”

When you don’t reply, he continues.

“You’re a lady, aren’t you?” he guesses. “A duchess. Your gown was too pretty to have belonged to a commoner.”

“My gown?” You perk up at the mention of the dress. “Where is it?”

“Gone. I tore through it.”

You gasp. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was the only way to keep you alive,” he says simply. “Your corset was impeding your ability to breathe.”

“My corset…” you mutter, mostly to yourself. You grimace after registering the implications of his words, thoroughly scandalized. “So, you—you—?”

“Yes. I had to.”

“God,” you choke out, covering your mouth. “How dare you? You should have just—!”

“Let you die?”

His query successfully squashes your disapproval; your lips flatten into a thin line, and you say nothing else. Harry watches the creases in your forehead dwindle as you realise that he’s right. You fiddle with the collar of your shirt, turning to the side and regaining your composure.

“Thank you,” you finally murmur, trying to hide your face from his piercing stare, “for not letting me die.”

He grunts. “You’re welcome.”

Brief silence ensues. A light breeze blows through the clearing, tousling the curls atop Harry’s head. The gust is enough to extinguish the last few flames frolicking over the kindle, until glowing embers are all that remain.

“I am a lady,” you suddenly add, though you refuse to meet his eyes. “But not a duchess.”

Harry leans forward, prodding at the residual ash in the firepit.

“What were you doing in the woods?”

You tinker with the bandages wrapped around your injured wrist.

“I was to be wed,” you confess, peeking up at him. “But I—I could not bear to go through with it. One should not marry for duty, but rather—”

“For love?”

You pause at his intrusion, lips parted in surprise.

“Yes,” you breathe. “For love.”

Your gazes lock. He clears his throat, breaking the contact quickly.

“You ran away, then.”

It’s not a question. You nod, and he hums.

“What is it?” you ask, brows knitting together.

“Nothing. It’s just…I may find good fortune in this situation.”

“How so?”

He shrugs. “Any man with sense would carry you down this peak, deliver you back to your family, and collect a hefty reward.”

Though he’s not looking at you, he can tell that you’ve recoiled.

“Please don’t,” you whisper.

He examines your face in the periphery of his vision. Your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

Just then, Magnus races out of the cabin, his tail wagging eagerly behind him. He trots over to you, sniffing your shoulder and releasing a high-pitched whine. You use one hand to swipe hastily at your cheeks; the other migrates to his head, tickling his floppy ears.

Harry watches the interaction unfold, completely stunned.

“He—he likes you.”

You glance over at him, still wary of his previous threat.

“I suppose he does,” you say quietly.

Magnus paws at your thighs. You direct your attention back to the keen bloodhound, pressing a feathery kiss to the tip of his wet nose.

Harry blinks a few times, trying to pinpoint the reason for his mutt’s newfound behaviour. At first, he wonders if his eyes are simply playing tricks on his brain. Yet with each flutter of his lids, the sight before him only seems to solidify.

“He doesn’t usually take well to strangers,” he mumbles.

When you don’t respond, he clenches his jaw tightly. Countless thoughts zoom through his head, spinning like wheels, tangling like thread.

Any man with sense would carry you down this peak, deliver you back to your family, and collect a hefty reward.

Harry is not a sensible man.

~*~

The three of you retreat indoors when the last shards of sunlight fade from the sky. Magnus circles the large woven rug poised in front of the hearth. Eventually, he collapses onto the mat, his snout drooping over his front paws. You stretch your arms into the air and yawn gently.

Harry is the last one to enter the cabin; he shuts the door behind him.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say lightly.

You spin around and nearly crash into the hard barrier of his chest. Reflexively, his hands fly up to grasp your biceps, steadying you. He peers down at your face in the darkness, his thoughtful gaze tracing the contours of your cheeks. Your eyes are wide, lips split apart as you suck in air.

“Sorry,” you say, frozen in place.

He only grunts, releasing your arms and stepping away.

Your attention lingers on him as he approaches a wide pile of furs stacked into the corner of the room. He’s been sleeping on the makeshift cot for the past three nights, and though his back is always sore the next morning, he has yet to find a better alternative.

“What are you…?” You hesitate, rethinking your question. “What is that?”

“My bed.”

“Do you…always sleep there?”

“No,” he rasps, lowering himself onto the thick pelts. “I prefer to sleep in my room.”

He shoots you a pointed look, and you frown when the realisation sinks in.

“We—we can switch,” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No.”

“I insist.” You try again.

“As do I.”

You clamp your mouth shut, unsure of how to respond. Magnus has already dozed off—his soft snores filter through the heavy silence hanging over your heads.

“He’s lovely,” you suddenly say, referring to the quiescent hound. “Well-trained, too.”

“I won’t take credit for that,” Harry grumbles, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “He was a palace dog.”

You blink. “W-what?”

“A palace dog,” he repeats. “I found him alone in the woods after a hunt. His leg was broken—the guards left him there to die.”

“That’s awful.”

He hums in agreement.

“You took him in, then,” you say. When he nods, you add, “It seems that you have a knack for nursing others back to health.”

He doesn’t reply.

“The hunts—” you start, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. “Do they…occur frequently?”

“Why do you ask?” Harry says. His shoulders wobble with a hollow chuckle. “Are you afraid of being caught?”

You inhale sharply, and he realises that yes, you are.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Subconsciously, his voice drops an octave, taking on a soothing quality. “They don’t come around often. And even if they did, I doubt that a single runaway lady would be of much concern.”

You blow out a relieved sigh, though the uneasy expression on your face never wanes.

“You’re probably right.”

A few hushed seconds draw out, during which neither of you speak. Your bare feet shuffle clumsily against the cold floor. You appear to be waiting for some sort of cue—a sound, a gesture, anything.

“Er—” Harry breaks the peace, cocking one eyebrow. “I sleep naked.”

“Oh.”

The exclamation is unbelievably breathless. Your throat bobs amidst a difficult swallow, and you totter back.

“Of course,” you stammer. “I’ll just—”

With a trembling hand, you motion toward the entrance of his bedroom.

He nods wordlessly.

“Right,” you mumble, retreating. “Goodnight, then…Bear.”

At that, he pauses. Your cheeks twitch with a feeble smile, but you don’t comment on the sweetness of the simple endearment.

Harry remains completely still as you scurry into his room. He sits there for a prolonged moment after the door shuts, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Your features have been stamped onto the backs of his eyelids, practically seared into the skin.

At last, warm air spills past his lips, and he allows himself to utter the low, relentless reply pulling at his tongue.

“Goodnight.”