#aaron on that ghost shit again

[queer-and-nerdy]

there are two wolves inside of you. one says that ghost is metal. the other says that ghost isn’t metal. both of these wolves are boys. they are kissing. they are gay wolves.

[mcondance]

makin’ love, in between the sheets. aaron hotchner

slight whisper of a size kink (s10 hotch….. i’m gonna fuck you.) i saw an edit of hotch to donk, then started listening to it and thinking evil thoughts. hotch call me i’m ready. s10 hotch bustin out the shirt... i love you. listen to donk to feel it. MDNI 18+

☆ ☆

you could lose your mind with how full you feel. overbearingly full of him, full of love and lust, full of his cock, and so much else you can't stand putting a name to.

caged and smothered, he's a mind-fucking weight against you, your brain something else he's fucked up and played with. between him and the soft mattress, you’re liquid in his hands, all sweet and whiny in his ears. you sound so sweet crooning for him, rolling your hips up into his thrusts, overwhelmingly alluring in your moves.

your eyes roll back and your body tenses when he hits that spot on a slow drag out, like he wants to make you lose your fucking mind— the smile on his face tells you that's exactly what he seeks to do. dazed and dizzy, your eyes fall to where he’s pressed against you to watch what he does to you, his stomach painted clear with your arousal. he looks good when he’s fucking you, thick and just asking to be drooled over.

above you, he nods at your watching, at your obvious flirting, eyes glinting. he’s teasing, a playful edge to how he makes love to you. the sheets feel like pure silk, and you feel like you're floating in them, suspended in softness as you both intertwine play with pleasure.

nosing at your nose, he bumps against you, silently directing your gaze up to his face, his pretty, pretty face.

a full smile graces his face as he leans down to kiss you, and your hands find the sides of his face when your lips meet. deep and warm, the kiss wastes no time with shy pecks. your brain slips away, to where all you can think is aaron. he’s good inside you, and you taste him, your tongue sliding against his as you rub gently over the swell of his cheek, and you can feel him smiling against your lips under your thumb. beautiful couldn’t even begin to describe how you know he looks.

sloppy and uncalculated, swipes of tongue and spit, it constricts something down between you two, your legs notching up just a bit—unconsciously curling into yourself. he pushes into the curl while you sing into his mouth, following your body down until he's pressed against the backs of your thighs again, and he stays there, grinding as deep as he can reach. "god," is all you can say against his lips, your head spinning with how quickly he figured your moves.

finally, you both gain enough sense to take a second to breathe. bodies rocking, you lay in the sweet sounds of your moans and his groans. your lips ghost against the others and your heavy breaths fan out against your faces. your toes curl at a wholehearted groan from him.

quiet, he tells you, "you're a dream, you know that?" it's murmured devastatingly sexily against your lips. his voice rumbles in his chest like thunder, deep and rolling. you've always loved storms.

“yeah,” you bite down on a smile, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

his eyes glint. of course you know. your smile escapes you before you kiss him again.

when he fucks against that spot again, "yeah" comes out as a moan, and your head rolls to the side as he pushes in again, crowding onto you and bringing his face into your neck to press kisses against your fevered skin. he hums as you gasp, innocently continuing to kiss at your neck and make you see supernovas collapse in front of your eyes.

he catches your face in the corner of his eye, so his mouth runs. "i love it when we're like this," he confesses. "you're open, and you give me so much. you let me have it all." in the plane of your mind, his words ring loudly and you feel them right where he's inside you now, your chest tingling with it.

"shit," you curse, turning you face toward him. again he follows you, raising so you can see him, and you grab his face in your hands, met with his longing gaze. "aar."

his eyes soften ever more at your call for him. you're blessed to be able to gaze at his divine countenance, to be able to see him and have his features grace your eyes is something long past sacred. soft and dulcet. heaven in the palm of your hands.

all of your ticks and tells are laid bare in his mind, every single one has been logged. that one, that shudder and whine and your furrowed eyebrows speak multitudes. he looks down and back up, then pushes forward like he's been doing this whole time.

you feel the weight of his body shift, see his hand move down in the corner of your eyes. "oh, god," you choke, way past cloud nine. it's amazing to you, still, how he knows without words, maybe cause he's a profiler, or maybe because he pays more attention to you than any other person in the world.

when he touches you, you feel like angelic. it's as if your limbs wrap in white light and you gain a glow, and you’re definitely going to cry. "yes" leaks from you in a squeak with a nod while stars prick at the corner of your vision as two fingers rub pretty over you, releasing pleasure from the center of your being out through your body. hips rolling up into his fingers and feeling like you're going to burst, everything feels so much. he hangs onto your hitches of breath and whines and nods, holds on and keeps fucking and rubbing until you go silent and your eyes fall shut, and he can feel you burst. distantly, you hear him breathe "yeah," when you come, obviously and exceedingly in awe. he feels you pulse around him, shaking, hips still rolling up into his fingers. like a habit, he follows your climax, watching intently for the parts where you can go higher, and lower, and then the end when he brings you to a slow roll and brings his own movements inside you down, too. he's never seen anything prettier.

finally, you breathe, a small out and then a big in as you become aware of your being again. you like this part, when he's moving slowly inside you, and his eyes are shut now because he's close. he can get there like this, soft and smooth with your arms snaking under and around his, pulling him close to you. being held brings him to the edge, being wrapped in love and talked to softly sets him alight. "you're unbelievable," you praise against his ear, your eyes shut closed. "so unreal." his chest rumbles with a groan and he pushes into you a little harder; he's not the only one who knows the other like the back of his hand. a moan catches in his throat as he comes, and releases when you push him over the crest of it with a breathy "yes." coming like this is the utmost pleasure, the fountain of joy and ecstasy that people search millennia for. another hard moan escapes him as his climax crests again, his breath mixing with his moans, beautiful and sweet-toned and pitched to perfection in your ear. through it all, your embrace never loosens, you keep him close to you like you know he needs to come as beautifully as he can.

slowly, it's his turn to find his body again.

he lays on top of you and your core prickles with the feel of his weight on top of you. your breathing, still irregular and heavy, and his, abundantly erratic, have the chance to settle. in the silence, save for yours and his breathing, you bathe in the afterglow.

[carlsangel]

friendly spirit (g.i.t.w, ch.1)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: mentions of death.

masterlist here!

other chapters here!

Carl never lost hope. Even after the prison, terminus and the church. He knew there was something for the group out there. He was probably the most hopeful out of everyone. He always wanted to keep going, he motivated everyone. It’s definitely something he’d gotten from his dad. Alexandria was exactly what he’d hoped for. At least from what he’d heard from Aaron.

Staying in a barn that smelt like horse shit was something he’d unfortunately considered before Aaron had arrived. That morning, seeing Aaron arrive through the barn doors almost made him smile. Between arguing with his dad that Alexandria was a good fit for the group and trying to back Michonne up on the same argument, he didn’t get much sleep. The entire car ride there, Rick had a plan.

He would discuss it with them over and over, going over every possibility. That’s why, when he and the others got out of the vehicles and he saw you, he thought he was imagining it. He saw you, a girl who’d climbed a tree from what it seemed like. Eugene walked past him and when the large black mullet was out of his face, you were gone. Maybe you were apart of Alexandria.

He heard children laughing and people talking. He knew this was the right place. For him, and for Judith. He sort of knew that he was the reason they needed a settlement at all. Maybe the rest of them would’ve given up at this point. Maggie had lost Beth, Sasha lost Tyreese, Daryl lost Merle ages ago…but they still stuck around. He thinks it’s because they had a sliver of hope. Hope because him and Judith are still alive.

Seeing the houses in the community sort of healed parts of his childhood. They weren’t the wealthiest of families, he imagined living in houses as big as Alexandria’s for years. He has memories, almost faded of the three of them driving through the neighborhood where all the wealthy people lived, imagining themselves there in the future. Once Rick retired of course.

It felt somewhat ironic to him, the fact that the only chance they were ever given to live in a nice and luxurious house was when the world was on its last legs. He thought a lot. Maybe too much, even in that moment where Aaron was explaining how one of the houses was better than the other, he thought about you. He wondered if you were just his imagination, or maybe you were a threat. He didn’t want to alarm anyone. But he was curious.

He returned to the conversation to hear something about curb appeal. Aaron was about to leave, he’d motioned for the both of them to check the house out but Carl stayed back. He had to talk to Aaron, to make sure he wasn’t insanely tired and you actually did exist.

“Wait— Aaron. Before you go, I just…I saw something earlier. Well someone. I was just wondering if she was apart of the community.” He explained, He described your attributes, the color of your skin and the length of your hair and what you were wearing. He felt like you were too dirty to live here however. “Oh her? Don’t worry, she just lives in the outskirts of Alexandria.” Aaron replies. Carl’s eyebrows knot together in confusion. “And you didn’t tell us? What if she’s a threat?”

Aaron sort of chuckles and it catches Carl off guard. “We call her the ghost in the woods. We’ve had people to go out and look for her…whenever they spot her she disappears quite quick but…we can’t quite seem to catch her.” He explains. Carl still didn’t understand. “She’s not a threat, I promise. Think of her as uhh… a friendly spirit.”

He thinks about that for a moment, Aaron puts his hand on Carl’s shoulder, giving him a content smile before patting it and turning away. He stewed on the idea of you, he seriously doesn’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want to join Alexandria, and why would you choose to live around it? He wanted to see you again. To meet you. He didn’t believe you were some…fairy tale. He needed to see you.

And he did. Right as Aaron walked away, in the distance he could spot you once again in a tree, just watching him. “Aaron?” He calls out, looking over to him for his attention. Once he gets it, he turns to point you out but you’re not there. Shit, now he looks stupid. “I just want to say thank you.” He says this as a cover up, but it was still mostly the truth. “Of course.” Aaron nods.

He finally tears his eyes away from the tree and catches up with his dad. He knew he had to see you, to meet you. That’d be his mission the next couple of days.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

Meanwhile you’d just descended the tree. You’d walk off your small campsite which was almost never permanent. The woods surrounding Alexandria was large. Perfect for you. You hated being confined to just one area. Especially because you hate to be attached to things.

The first rule to the apocalypse is to not get attached. You found that out the hard way. Many times. Your first home, your dad, your sister. You lost everything. All you had was their belongings. Your sister’s bracelet, your dad’s bag, and his rifle. You were in fact attached to their belongings but you knew if they weren’t in your possession, you were most likely dead.

You never intended on interacting with the people of Alexandria, you just liked the security of being outside the walls. You had precaution without technically having it. If it came down to it, you knew where to go. Not to mention sometimes the civilians would leave food for you. At first it felt dehumanizing, like they were leaving food out on the porch for a fucking raccoon.

But it was fine. You were perfectly fine on your own. Sometimes it got lonely..but you’d just occupy your time listening to music with a walkman your dad gifted you before the start or reading books you found in old cabin remains and such. You’d even watch over Alexandria. Except recently things have been especially frustrating. The rifle’s been getting jammed and the batteries in your walkman have been dying quicker than usual. You’d stop listening until you really needed it. You were yearning for something new. Anything.

But soon, a new and large group would arrive. You’d watch over Alexandria often, you knew almost everyone but not one on one. You liked the reputation you upheld there. It was like knowing everyone without having to really know them. No chance to get attached. You now had a new group of personalities to dissect. At least, all the way from the trees surrounding the walls.

You took note of all of them. More importantly, the one who noticed you first.

Carl.

i hope you liked itttt there’s more coming!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: Hate Sex w/ Ex!Fratboy!Bucky Barnes (ft. sorority sister!reader

a/n: i cannot begin to tell you how fucking aware i am that this is late and i'm almost falling behind but ohmygoodness i've been literally exhausted for the past two days. i'm lowkey pissed about it because i was super excited to write for this day and actually writing for it felt like i was dragging my feet behind me.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Fuck James Buchanan Barnes.

He’s a piece of shit, an asshole, a womanizer, a player, a liar and a dirty fucking cheat, but goddamn it, why do you always find yourself here? 

You hated him – no – you do hate him! 

Even people that hate their exes like the fact that they catch their eye, that they can’t find it within themselves to look away from them, that in some way, some capacity, they will always want them, that they will always be theirs regardless of whoever they get with in the future. 

Bucky knew you’d come to the party at his frat, and you knew that you would go with every intention of fucking with him. To everyone else, you were just bitter exes - that needed to fuck out whatever was going on between the two of you - so when you showed up in a dress that fell just below your ass, your friends figured you were just trying to get laid; but no one knew that this was his favorite color on you, let alone his favorite dress.

You just so happened to pick it out, that’s all! Couldn’t a girl want to pamper herself nowadays?

You fake laughed at whatever the dude that had fallen right into your trap said, a manicured hand lifting up to slap him on his arm gently, making extra sure to graze the naked skin of his arm that was exposed by his muscle tee with your acrylics. You fluttered your eyelashes at him innocently, a faux sweet smile on your face. 

Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted Bucky to take you home, or to his room, or to wherever the fuck he wanted too – but you’d never admit that to yourself. You couldn’t. He couldn’t win this game of cat and mouse, not without a fight, and you just so happened to love playing dirty.

You could feel Bucky’s stare burning into your back. Your bodycon dress was completely strapless, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as your breasts threatened to spill out over the top. You weren’t a sorority slut by any means, one of your sister’s had that covered, but still, you were going to go home with somebody tonight.

Even if he was an idiot.

“That’s so funny, Aaron.” Aaron laughed nervously, cheeks blooming a deep red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh- actually Eric.” Right. “Sorry.” You giggled, raising the neck of your beer as if it was some sort of explanation for the fact that you don’t really give a shit about what his name is and more about what’s in his pants.

Before you could speak, your eyes raised up to meet Bucky’s, who was standing across the pull, two ladies vying for his attention as he puffed on what looked like a blunt. It looked like he was in the same boat that you were; that he didn’t care about what they were saying, only you.

Biting your lip, you turned your gaze back to Aaron – Eric. 

You knew you’d have to up the ante in order to get him to move, because right now you know he thinks that you’re all bark no bite. You’ll show him.

“You know…” You made a finger walking motion up his arm, the tips of your nails now slightly digging into his skin. “How about we get out of here?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him. “It’s too crowded… and loud.” Your hand finally rested on his upper bicep, giving it a soft squeeze. The poor man’s jaw was slightly dropped, as if he was a fish out of water. 

“Yeah, yeah, I-” He attempted to say, but when you raised your gaze again, Bucky was gone, and you had forced yourself to bite back a wolfish smile because you knew he was on the move somewhere.

“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bucky’s voice sounded as he approached the both of you from behind. Eric looked as if he had seen a ghost, but the poor boy had no idea that he was just a pawn in your game. 

“Oh- uh- nothin’ man, just talking.” You raised a brow at Eric’s shaky excuse. Internally, you rolled your eyes. What a pussy. 

“Really?” Bucky asked in amusement, not even bothering to hide the face splitting smirk that contorted his face. “Yep.” You responded, popping the ‘p’ as you took the blunt from him. You wrapped your mouth around it, your gaze almost challenging him as you sucked, pulling the smoke into your lungs. It burned but it was worth it to see the tick in his jaw and the slight twitch in his eye at the sight of your pursed lips.

“I think that I um- I’m just gonna go.” Eric squeaked awkwardly. All lustful intention slipped away from him as he grasped his hand and shook it. From the poor man’s wince you can tell that Bucky put a little bit too much force in his shake.

When the random guy slipped away you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Real smooth.” You commented. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” 

“I’m talking about you trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of him.” The way you said it was as if it was the most casual thing on earth. “I almost forgot how possessive you get when you know someone else wants me.” You tilted your chin up to finally face him, and you caught yourself from almost stumbling over your words at the primal look on his face. 

You did it. You won this game fair - enough - and square.

“Too bad my pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, isn’t it, James?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. But you weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. 

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m right, even though anger does look good on you.” 

You went to step away, but he was quick to snatch your wrist, “Were not done talkin’.” You made a noncommittal attempt to tug yourself free. “I am.” 

The tension between the two of you sizzled like oil on a pan, beckoning, calling for someone to do something, anything, to appease the burning desire that was coiling in Bucky and yours’ guts.

“If you’re not done then I guess we should find somewhere quiet to talk then.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to offer a rebuttal because he was already dragging you away from the prying eyes of party goers, his frat brothers and your sorority sisters. You already had an idea of where he was taking you, pushing the both of you through the sea of people that flooded the house, most of them drunk or high or a hammered off of a little bit of everything that was rotating throughout the home.

When he’d found his room, he was grateful that no one had decided to fuck in it, because that was what he was supposed to be doing.

He let your body be the thing that slammed the door shut with a loud bang!

He kissed you harshly, his left hand grasped your chin while the other hiked a full leg over his hip, grinding his erection onto your needy core.

“Fuck!” You gasped, your back arching off the wood as you broke the kiss. The friction of his jeans against your pulsing clit sent you staggering for balance, your inhibitions clouding your mind when you allowed your self-control to completely flee from within you.

“Bucky baby.” You whined. The man practically preened at the sound of his old nickname, his humping turning harder and calculated. He clearly had an end goal in mind. 

“What were you sayin’ about this pussy not bein’ mine no more?” He quipped. “I still mean it.” You gasped. He growled, but nonetheless, that didn’t deter him from shoving his face in the corner of your neck and biting down on the skin. Hard.

You yelped at the pain, but it shot down straight to your stimulated core. The bite only drew you closer to your embarrassingly fast approaching orgasm. It had been so long since you’d been touched by him, and God, you missed his hands, his voice, his touch, his smell, his cock.

“‘M close, Buck, ‘m so close.” You murmured, waving your fingers through his brunette hair and tugging on the strands. You felt a burning bitterness well-up in your gut when the tips of your fingers brushed against the hard plastic of the silver crown on top of his head. You sneakily took it off before throwing it somewhere in his room.

“No need to be jealous, honey.” He teased with a smirk on his face. “Shut— shut up!” Your rebuttal only came out as a whine. You could feel the cloth of your laced thong stick to your wet labia with every grind on his jeans – which also now sported a dark spot on his pants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore as you came. “There you go. That’s it, good girl.” Small whimpers slipped out of you as he worked you into overstimulation. 

“God,” He groaned. “I’ve gotta fuck you.”

Guiding his face up to yours, you brushed your lips together, holding your intense eye contact with one another. “Then fuck me, Buck. I think you have a point to prove.” He leaned forward just a bit to nip at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 

“Fuckin’ naughty.” Bucky grunted, forcing your leg down from his hip for a moment to snatch your panties down your legs. Your hands shot out to his belt buckle, slipping the leather out of it and unbuttoning his jeans. It was your turn to shove his pants down and grab his hard on, his hot cock pulsing in your hand.

The air in the back of his throat caught at the feeling of your stroking, “God– turn around.” You did as he said and felt his large, calloused hands pushing up your dress.

“Gonna make sure everyone at this fuckin’ party knows you’re mine.” He says lowly, pulling down his underwear to his mid-thigh and prodding his tip at your entrance. “Even if you fuckin’ hate me.” With that, he entered you, splitting you in half on his cock.

You cried out at the feeling, false nails scratching at the surface of his door in an attempt to keep yourself steady. “Feels so good, Buck. So, so, good.” You mewled, your hips pushing out on their own accord to try and take your own pleasure. “Always so fuckin’ greedy.” He chided. His hands grabbed at the fat of your ass, pulling out of you only to slam back in, sending you up the wall.

Your bodies moved in a familiar symphony that had been sung numerous times before, as they hadn’t forgotten one another, they were just simply waiting for the both of you to press play.

His dick repeatedly prodded at your g-spot, the friction sending you into overdrive as you moaned, and cried and begged. “God, I think ‘m gonna cum, Buck!” You exclaimed, walls repeatedly clenching down on him. “That’s right, doll. ‘Fuckin squeeze me.” He bellowed, his own thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his end.

Your noises raised in pitch before your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, instead opting to cross your arms and rest your head on your forearms.

“Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusting growing sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Do it, fuck, I-” Your words died out, your body wracking with shivers as your second orgasm of the night overtook you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt his seed warm your insides, painting your womb white as your eyesight went white, and your pussy sucked him up for all he’s worth.

Your chests heaved.

“I still hate you.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He said through a smile.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch. 6

(Hes sitting next to you in this pic :D)

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst, SMUT Summary: You search for Daryl after Negan's lineup. You didn't understand the trauma he went through, and eventually you decide enough is enough, and you leave. Notes: The last chapter! Somewhat proofread. Filled with tensions overflowing and then some sex. I had a lot of fun writing this and want to thank @louifaith again for allowing me to write out her idea. It's also pretty long because I didn't want to break it into two chapters, it didn't really make sense that way. Longish read, but longish smut at the end if you're just here for sex and want to skip ahead.

When you found out he left on some halfcocked revenge mission, you were pissed. And then you learned nearly everyone else had gone too, you were pissed and confused. 

The rare presence of the others had become more common than the familiar presence of Daryl. He was gone more often than not now, either out with Aaron or off with Rick. Even when he was home, he was never really there. He didn't laugh at your crude insults about others anymore, he didn't want to spend all day with you out hunting in the woods. It looked like was also making an effort to smoke less, often declining your outstretched cigarette. He was the one who got you to smoke once. You used to hate it, but eventually associated the smell of tobacco with him, and you grew to love it.

You couldn't read him like a book like you once did. He'd become overly serious, distant, and uncharacteristically concerned with the well-being of others. 

You had half a mind to just leave. The only reason you hadn't left months ago was Daryl, but the way he was treating you felt like a slap in the face. It hurt. For the first time in so long you hurt. You felt utterly and completely alone, leading you to once again close yourself off from the others, spending all your time hunting or scavenging for substances in the city that could make you feel better. You scored an unopened bottle of painkillers, something you once hated, and drowned your sorrows with a stuffed nose and a foul post nasal drip. 

The savior issue never really seemed like a big deal to you when it first arose. Some asshole raiders trying to make a point, you didn't give a shit. Rick and Daryl would handle it like they always did. 

You took a deep drag from your cigarette as you watched the front gates being opened, two heavy duffle bags over each of your shoulders. You’d come to terms with it, you were leaving, and that was it. You weren't some obedient housewife that didn’t mind the absence of Daryl, you were his best friend and you couldn’t put up with the dramatic emotions anymore. You were fully prepared for the conversations that would ensue, a list of reasons you should stay, maybe some light pleading, so when you saw what came from those gates you froze. 

The muscles in your jaw throbbed as you listened to Rick's pitiful attempt at retelling you what happened, his eyes red and puffy, his hair wet and matted to his forehead. He couldn't, so he gave up, and drug his feet into the house, moving in a way that closely resembled the dead. Carl followed, and you realized Maggie was missing too. Your heart dropped. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened?” You gaped, looking from face to face, searching desperately for an answer, only to be met with the ghosts of their former selves. You spotted Aaron and realized he was almost never out without Daryl, and your confusion snapped violently to panic. Michonne was really the only one who wasn't too shocked to speak. She told you everything in great detail, her words cold and harsh as she made her anger towards your insensitive behavior well known. Each word she spoke felt like a curse, spitting at you with such venom you'd never had directed towards you before. You deserved it. 

You weren't a good person like them. The deaths of Glenn and Abraham didn't make you cry, go through all the stages of grief and have a mental crisis, in the moment she told you they just felt like problems you’d deal with later, you didn’t have the time. Not when you still had no idea where Daryl was. 

Despite not being a good person, you reacted to the news in a way that was very impressive by your standards. You didn't scream at anyone, or punch Gabriel in the face, you just threw your already packed bags in the car and set off. 

You chain-smoked an entire pack of cigarettes the first hour of searching. You never did find the saviors home, even though you didn't stop searching to sleep the first few days. You found the location of the massacre, a few shredded pieces of clothing and blood stained dirt. You were brought to furious tears at the thought of the scenario where you were in Daryl's position, and him yours. Your first assumption was that he would've already tracked you down by then, him and his one man army breaking you out and taking you far away from the entire state. Then the second, and more daunting assumption, would he even look? Would he be too busy taking care of Rick and the others, the task of rescuing you put on a back burner? 

You told yourself maybe you were just impulsive and stupid, maybe Daryl in that scenario was just being smart and careful, you were just a guns blazing idiot who didn't think far into the future. 

It felt like you'd been out there for weeks, living off a diet of cigarettes and various illegal substances. You nearly stuck a knife in the face of  a woman who was unlucky enough to walk into the same store you were in. 

“No, please, don't.” She sniveled pathetically, her hands raised to the sides of her head in surrender. “I don't have anything. Please. I can take you to my camp, we've got food and water and medicine-”

“Dude, shut up. Just thought you were a walker. Goddamn.” You sheathed your knife and stood back, the tip of your tongue held between your teeth in thought. “But I'm hungry as fuck!”

She took you back to her camp, which was extremely impressive. And just in time, too, your stomach growled noisily and you felt the small waves of hunger nausea begin. 

“Put your gun away, please.” She pleaded in a hush whisper as you stood in front of the wooden gates. 

You looked to her with furrowed eyebrows, your cheeks hollowed out as you pulled on your twentieth cigarette that day. You really needed to cut back. “No.” You muttered around the cigarette, eventually sighing and slinging your rifle over your shoulder with a dramatic eye roll. 

The sight of Rick and Maggie chatting outside with a small group of others felt like you'd been slapped in the face. They looked just as stunned as you were, pausing their conversation. You stood there for about ten solid seconds before the silence finally broke. 

Rick opened his mouth to speak but you raised your hand, stopping him. “Don't have time. Just gonna eat and leave.” 

“Daryl's here.” The sound of Maggie's harsh voice halted your route to the front of the mansion. You couldn't hide the look on your face, an intense ‘this better not be a lie’ mix of anger and disbelief. She pointed up to your previous destination with raised eyebrows and you took off. 

He almost punched you in the face when you jumped him. He was still wet from a shower, littered in various sized bandages and bruises, wearing a fresh set of clothes. He smelled like laundry detergent and cheap flowery shampoos. 

“Holy shit I thought they killed you. Holy shit. Mother fucker.” You babbled into his chest as he squeezed you so hard your back cracked. 

It felt indescribable being in his arms again. It also felt incredibly different. You'd hugged him hundreds of times but something about this particular hug stood out. It was desperate and deep, you didn’t worry about coming off as soft or being too much. Your fingers dug into the sleeves of his shirt around his biceps, your face buried into his chest, and his hands were all over you. He couldn't decide where to touch you, your arms, your face, your hair, your back, they would move from place to place as he cemented into his mind that you were really there, there in his arms, holding and petting him like you'd always done before. His mind flashed with images of him back in that cell and his throat tightened, the slightest whisper of a whimper sounding in the back of his mouth. He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head, rocking you in his arms for a few silent moments as you pulled yourself together. 

“Where the hell you been? Rick said ya left with all your shit.” His voice was tight, the way it would get when he would try not to cry, along with raising in pitch a little. 

You looked up and smiled softly, seeing him through a sheen of wet tears. “Doesn't matter.” You hummed as you stroked his cheek. “Really. It doesn’t. I've been looking for you, only reason I'm here is because some bitch thought I was robbing her and told me about this place. Couldn't keep looking if I was starving.” You buried your face back in the fabric of his shirt and sighed deeply. 

“Told ya, I ain't leavin'. I ain't dyin’ neither.” His warm words in that deep rumble resulted in your racing heart finally slowing its pace. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” You pulled back from his chest to look up at his face. He looked miserable, it broke your heart. He looked away from your gaze, unable to keep eye contact, which was something he never struggled with before when it came to you. “Daryl?”

His head immediately dropped and his forehead collided with your shoulder. Your heart banged against your ribcage and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, stroking the back of his neck and kissing the side of his head while he stifled his soft sobs.

“Let's leave. C'mon.” You parted from him, only to be pulled back by his grip on your wrist. 

“Y’jus’ got here.” Daryl furrowed his brows, his eyes wet with tears that he quickly blinked away.

“Yeah, to eat so I could keep looking for you. I've found you, so let's go.”

“Go where?” 

You gritted your teeth as his grip on you loosened. “Anywhere else, I don't care.” You said through clenched teeth, your gaze intensifying. “We're done with this shit. Not our problem anymore. Let's go. I'm not letting these people get you hurt again. Never, Daryl.”

Daryl had never been the reason you cried, at least, that's what he thought. So when you started cracking at his rejection, his heart shattered. Every bone in his body yearned for him to hold you, bring you back into his arms and make the pain stop. It hurt even more to see that you weren't just upset, you were pissed, disgusted at the fact that you were showing such weakness in front of the same person who made you cry. 

“I gotta. ‘Jus need to do this.” He attempted to comfort you after your rage at your perceived betrayal faded into tears of defeat. “M’doin’ it for us. Ya gotta trust me on this.” 

There was a small glimmer of hope then, and you allowed yourself to feel it. You were desperate to believe him, and desperate to believe everything would turn out alright. Rick and everyone else would deal with Negan, you'd scratch that burning itch for revenge, and everything would be okay. 

Rick did deal with it, that much came true. At the cost of his son's life, he defeated the saviors.

You were more than willing to fight. You’d been dying for a purpose, and being a soldier in the war against Negan was exactly what you needed. You looked like a cheesy action movie protagonist with two long arm guns on your back and two pistols in each hand. You used more ammo that day than you had in your entire life. God. You wished Merle had been there to see you and Daryl. 

You didn't get the revenge you so desperately craved. You absolutely lost it when Negan was defeated. After Daryl decided against killing Dwight, you lunged at the man like a rabid fox, fully prepared to end his life with just your teeth and hands, only to end up clawing and wriggling in Daryl's grasp. You could've gotten over that eventually, it would take a really long time, sure, Dwight was a brainwashed cult member and did what he did because he was told to. And he'd get his, even if you had to restrain yourself. Fine. It’s fine.

But Rick sparing Negan? 

No. Your reaction to that earned you the reputation of the group's feral animal. You shared the same reaction as Maggie, but unlike her giving up after a while of being held back, you ended up earning a matching set of rope bracelets and anklets.

“You'll have to kill me.” Your throat burned as Daryl tossed you in the back of a blue Toyota camry. He nearly had to force Dwight into the passenger seat at gunpoint, the terror in the backseat scaring him more than the thought of death. 

Your spit was red and thick as it smacked onto Dwight's battered face, blending with the blood that made him unrecognizable. He was barely able to get to his feet after Daryl's threat of death if he was to return, blindly picking up the car keys in the mess of blood spattered leaves. 

The relationship between you and Maggie quickly became a deep friendship as you plotted to kill Negan. Neither of you were allowed to see him in his cell without someone to stand guard, but Maggie even moreso. With enough time you were able to get down there alone, gun in hand, only to be stopped by Michonne, who had apparently come for the same reason. 

“I haven't seen you much before. What's your name.” Negan's eyes followed you as you paced back and forth in front of his cell, seething from the fact that Michonne wouldn't let you kill him yet. She had her own unknown motives, which didn't really matter to you, but all this talking was driving you insane. 

“You don't need to know my name.” You muttered, cutting your eyes at the man. “You look so much smaller than I remembered you looking in that field.”

He winced at your words, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Oh, sweetheart. That hurts. Actually, I've been told I'm pretty impressive.”

He watched you as you continued pacing, your hands sweaty and your eyes wild with rage, confusion, and confliction. A smirk spread on his face. “Look at you. Like a lion in a cage. Well, I’m the one in the cage, but. Coulda used a psycho bitch like you. If you were on my side that day, phew!”

You pulled your gun from your waistband and pulled the trigger. Negan raised hands and jumped. Your heart dropped when you were met with an empty click. You inhaled sharply through your nose and pulled out the clip, which was completely empty. 

Daryl. He dragged you out of the basement, thankful he’d unloaded your guns the night before. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what you were planning. He didn't care that you were pissed, Rick wanted Negan alive, so that's what he was going to stay, even if he did want the prick dead.

It didn't take long for you to pick up on Daryl's trauma. He was good at hiding it from others, nothing much had changed aside from him being quieter. But once your selfish rage had settled you noticed small differences. He slept closer to you at night, no longer on the other side of the mattress, and his nightmares became more violent. He'd thrash in his sleep, tossing and turning and sweating, you found yourself waking him up more times than you could count. Each time he'd get real quiet, maybe from shame, and walk outside to smoke a cigarette. You'd follow him each time and sit quietly on the porch steps, not caring that he didn't offer you a hit. He looked like he needed all he could get. 

You saw him crying with Carol once. His head dipped down and his forehead pressed against her shoulder. If it had been long ago you would've felt hot at the sight, assuming he obviously must've felt closer to her since he hadn't cried like that with you since his capture, but you weren't as shallow and selfish as you once were. Your heart ached for him, wishing he would open up and tell you what happened, you could comfort him too, you wished you could tell him that. 

“Wanna go hunting?” You asked one day, picking up your new hunting rifle, a Savage model 99 that you'd replaced your broken bow with. Daryl shrugged from his spot on the chair beside your bedroom table, not looking up from his work. He was almost always making new bolts in his free time then. He had a pile of twenty-two sitting next to him. 

“Come on, I'm craving venison.” 

He inhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging. 

“Seriously, we haven't hung out in forever man.”

“Hang out?” He said it like you asked him for a ‘playdate’. “What're ya, twelve?”

“No, I'm an adult who misses you, jackass.” You muttered, kicking one of his boots across the floor closer to him. “You've made two hundred arrows in the past week man. I think you can take a break. Yeah, don't look at me like that. I've counted.”

It was when you were alone in the woods that he broke down. You hadn't even asked, he just told you after you took down a buck. He didn't cry at first, he gave a vague retelling, it was only when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind that he cried. His head hung low as his chest shook with quiet sobs, his hands laying idle and nervous in his lap, his eyes looking down at the stump he sat on. You rested your head in the crook of his neck and held him for a while, your fingers occasionally giving his biceps a reassuring squeeze if his breathing grew too ragged. 

“I'll kill him. I promise. I'll find a way.”

When you were fifteen you skipped school for the first time. Your freshman year, Daryl's too. It was one of the only times you hung out that wasn't just the right time, right place. He was the one who talked you into it, since the two of you shared a history class. He brought cigarettes and a wild assortment of drugs, no doubt nabbed from Merle. 

“We should do this more.” Daryl had said as you walked the power line trails in the woods behind the school. He shrugged when you looked at him, his gaze falling to the grass in front of him. “Hang out, I mean.” 

“Yeah, we should.” You flashed a rare smile, earning one from him as well, the purple skin around his eye wrinkling. 

You never did. You were too busy with school work and getting beat on by your withdrawing mother. Daryl wasn't really busy, in fact, he was alone most of his teenage years. Always alone out in the woods. Sometimes he'd miss school for a week, living in his father's tent deep in the forest, spending his time learning to live on his own. His father never noticed, not until the school called and he got one of the worst beatings he'd ever gotten. You saw him at school a few days after that, one of his last days before he dropped out. 

He looked awful. Busted lips, bruises all over his arms, light purple handprints on his neck, and deep purple blotches around his eyes and jaw. The school called the police, but nothing ever happened. Daryl told them it was from a fight with some kid, and they happily accepted that answer, eager to miss out on the paperwork. 

“We should just leave.” You said after he pulled the cigarette back away from your lips to take a drag of his own. 

“I would.” He muttered as he held the smoke in his lungs, watching the kids in the far off soccer field chasing the ball. His legs dangled off the edge of the school roof, occasionally swinging a bit. 

“I would too.” You wouldn't. Not until you got your brother back. You looked at him, feeling an unfamiliar twist in your heart when you saw the way he flinched under your sudden gaze. “I'd kill him if I could.” 

You truly meant it. Even though Daryl was barely an acquaintance at that point, you would have killed his father if you got the chance. Daryl didn't mean much to you to be brutally honest, you didn't care to form a deep friendship with anyone, but you shared the bond of trauma from parental abuse and that was deeper than any normal friendship. He could leave, never see you again, and you wouldn't be upset, but if you ever had to witness his father touch him it would shatter your soul. 

You promised yourself you'd kill anyone who ever hurt him after that. You almost murdered Andrea when you found out she shot him. You risked being eaten alive by walkers just to make sure the Governor was really dead. You beat Dwight until Daryl dragged you off, if he hadn't done that you would've killed him. 

Things got a lot worse after the day of your failed assassination attempt. Daryl was never home anymore, either at Hilltop or Ezekiel's kingdom. You had reached the point of considering leaving again. The emotional rollercoaster you were going through was taking a heavy toll on your already fucked mental health.

He could see the effect his absence had on you, and it made him feel like shit. There wasn’t much he could do, he had so many responsibilities and he would never ask you to come with him and Rick every time they packed up and went on long trips every five seconds. It felt selfish to him, he didn’t know that you’d be more than happy to accompany him. 

His hands on your tense shoulders as you sat on the edge of your bed did wonders to loosen you up. You set your gun down beside you and looked up to him, forcing a smile. 

“C'mon sweetheart. Wanna show you somethin’.”

He took you on a long walk in the woods to a secluded pond that once belonged to a fisherman, obvious by the raggedy dock and small wooden shack filled with all sorts of fishing tools. There was still homemade canned fish in his cupboards. 

“Gonna stay here for a few days. Jus’ you an’ me.” 

You watched him over your can of trout, chewing slowly. “Really?”

Daryl shrugged and stabbed his fork into his own can. “Yeah. Ya need it.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We need it.”

Your heart swelled with warm joy, a smile spread on your face and you tried your best to contain the satisfaction his gift had given you. You missed your best friend more than anyone you’d ever missed before after your baby brother. You’d come to terms with the more than likely possibility that he was dead, and so were your parents. It took a long time and many different weeks spent searching when you were back in Georgia. 

You had a fantastic time with him. You fished all morning, talked all afternoon, and ate your fill of fresh and canned fish. It wasn't long before you set up your bedrolls in the middle of the shack and blew out your candles. It felt amazing to sleep next to him again, you couldn't properly put into words how much you missed him. The feeling of his large warm body next to yours as you fell asleep had you thinking that it was all worth it. He was making an effort to spend time with you again, and with that effort came the sparks of hope, hope that you were getting your best friend back.

You woke up the first night spent with him in the fishing shack to see moonlight seeping through the holes in the tin roof. You rubbed your blurry eyes and sat up, propping yourself up with an elbow on the floor. 

“Daryl?” You murmured sleepily as your eyes came to focus in the dim light. His bedroll was still beside yours, albeit empty. You waited a few minutes before walking outside, assuming he just had to go piss or something. 

Ten minutes passed before you walked back into the shack, now carrying a small candle to light the room, cursing when the wax dripped down your knuckles. The amber glow illuminated his bedroll, bringing attention to a small white square. You leaned down and picked up the piece of paper, squinting in effort to read his handwriting. 

The pain in your chest was deep and dark. Growing up you had grown used to being disappointed by your parents and people around you. It never surprised you. Even now you didn’t expect much from people, but Daryl was that exception. So when you read his little apology, claiming Rick called on him through his walkie to request his help in the Kingdom, you decided you’d had enough.

He had been in the Kingdom for about two weeks until you heard from Rick that they were back.

“We're leaving.” You seethed the moment you stepped into your new shared bedroom with Daryl. It was upstairs in one of the apartments in Alexandria, no longer the basement in Rick's house. You had a nice king sized bed, lots of dressers and shelves, a big ass tv, and even a gaming console that once belonged to Carl. Daryl had only slept in that bed three times since you moved in months ago.

He sighed your name and stood from his seat at the table, setting down the disassembled gun he'd been cleaning. “No we ain't. Cut that shit out.” 

“I can't be here anymore. I can't. I can't.” You began hyperventilating as you ripped the dresser drawer fully out, falling to your knees and quickly grabbing the clothes that spilled out. 

“Stop.” When you didn't comply he made you stop, grabbing your wrists and forcing you to look at him. He spoke in that serious tone that felt like a stab to the chest, his eyes burning holes into yours. “I'm not leavin'.” 

You froze at his words. Your mouth opened and your lips trembled, your breath catching in your throat. The words never came to you. You just stared at him with wide eyes and a horrified look of disbelief.

Daryl didn't speak either. He stood his ground, maintaining a firm gaze, his grip on your wrists slowly loosening. 

It hurt. And that made you angry. 

“Who even are you anymore?” You hissed, tearing your hands away from him and shooting up on your feet. “I never see you anymore, you're cold, distant.” He got to his feet, accepting each blow of your words with this calm face that turned your anger into lividness. 

“You promised me you'd never leave me. You promised you'd always be the one thing Daryl, the one thing that wouldn't change, wouldn't leave, wouldn't hurt me, I kept my promise!” Your finger hammered against your own chest in reference. “You say you're never leaving but you already left! I can see it in your eyes, don't look at me like you have no idea what I'm talking about.” Your face burned. “I can see it. The pity, the disdain. The only reason you haven't just kicked me out is cause you feel like you're obligated to me now, or maybe you're scared I'm some loose canon and I'll burn this fucking house down-”

Daryl had heard enough, he lurched forward until he was inches away from you, his nostrils flared due to his increasingly heavy breathing. “You're fuckin’ delusional!” He spat. “You don't think this is hard on me too? Don't think I'd rather be out there livin’ in some cabin with you? That shit ain't happenin’, these people are family. I ain't leavin' ‘em neither. Shit don't mean I don't care ‘bout ya anymore. We ain't in Atlanta, ‘ts not like that anymore. Ain't just me you ‘n Merle.”

“We should've just left. We should've just left.” You repeated in a breathy whisper, your glazed over eyes locked on his chest. 

“Yeah? Well, we didn't, now we can't. Now I won't.” The purposeful enunciation of the last word was the straw that broke the camel's back, and he immediately regretted it as soon as your eyes squeezed shut. “G’damnit.” 

“Fine.” Your breath was shaky, and you resumed packing. 

He found it impossible to stop you, impossible to move. In reality all it would take from him was a simple request for you to stay, but he couldn't even manage that. It felt like watching a fire you started get out of control, he knew he still had the power to stop it, but he was too stunned to move. 

You zipped up the same second duffle bag you'd packed with the same intention on leaving, just as you'd done before. This time though, it wasn't the same. It felt too final. You knew it would be the last time. Daryl did too, and he still didn’t stop you.

You’d set up camp deep in the woods down a dirt road that led to a pond. You slept in your car with your campfire a few feet away, a pot of wild carrots and rabbit simmering over the coals. It smelt amazing due to your stolen beef bouillon cubes, but you didn’t really have the motivation to eat. You flicked away the first cigarette of your last pack and stared into the red hot coals, watching them ebb and glow until the flash of something large and dark caught your eye. 

You stared in disbelief as you watched his figure move through the thick trees, making his way over to your little camp beside the car you'd stolen from Alexandria. He had a heavy bag with him. 

He plopped his bag down next to your fire and sat down, helping himself to a bowl of your stew. He said nothing, not even looking up at you as he finished your supper.

“The hell are you doing here?” 

He looked up at you and sucked the grease from his fingertips, the empty bowl now discarded at his side. You had no idea how he’d managed to get his fingers coated in rabbit fat, it was fucking soup and he used a spoon. “Ts’it look like?”

You couldn't move, your feet glued to the debris of the forest floor. Your mind spun with questions. If he was actually willing to leave with you, leave all those people behind, why had he shut you out? Why had he changed? What changed? 

“I don't want you here. It's an obvious act of charity.” You finally spoke, watching as he lit a wrinkled cigarette. “You told me yourself-”

“Will ya shut up?” He squinted up at you through the burn of smoke. “Jus’ walked six  damn days to find ya. M’not leavin'.” 

You sat on the opposite side of the fire in silence. He scooted around to sit next to you, and held his cigarette up to your lips. You took a weak pull and sighed. After a while of not speaking, you broke the silence. 

“You're so different. Changed so much”

He nodded at your words, his head tilted down to stare at the leaves between his legs. “Had to.”

“Why?” The question burst from your lips so quickly that it surprised you. 

“You.” He took a deep pull off his cigarette and blew it out the opposite side of his mouth to avoid blowing it directly in your face. “This ain't the kind of life you deserve. Tryin’ to get that for ya. That little house ya dreamed of living in, one with a screened in porch for plants ‘n shit. Life that ya ain't spendin’ hungry, cold, scared.”

He paused for a moment, taking another long drag. “Wanted me to be better too. The kinda man to pick ya flowers, take ya on dates, all that stupid shit.” He flicked the spent cigarette into the fire and leaned back against your car door. 

If it was possible, you were feeling every emotion all at once, in such a rapid and disorienting fashion that it looped back around and made you too shocked to feel. 

He delved deeper, explaining that he felt you deserved better than who he once was, Merle’s echo, a loud and angry asshole, then turned into a cold and traumatized shell, never allowing himself to feel vulnerable with you again. When he finally broke out of it and realized exactly what he wanted, he worked on himself in a determined attempt to be the man you dreamed of marrying as a kid.He worked on your surroundings as well, making sure to eliminate any possible threat in every colony that had even the slightest chance of risking your livelihood. But more importantly, he wanted to be yours. The type of husband you described when you were thirteen years old, cleaning the blood from his swollen ear one of the nights he slept on your back porch. 

“I'm not gonna be like my mom.” You had said firmly, tossing away the bloody tissue paper. “I'm gonna get a good husband and I'm not gonna mess it all up like she did.”

“A good husband?” He questioned curiously, wincing as you dabbed his ear with rubbing alcohol. 

“Yeah, like…. He'll take me on dates, open doors for me, buy me cool stuff, uh….” You trailed off in thought. “He's gonna build me a house too. With a screen porch that I can put a hundred plants in, and he won't be allowed to smoke in it. Oh, he won't smoke, actually. Or drink, or do drugs. He'll never hit me or yell at me like my mom did to my dad, and to me. He'll be handsome too. And smart.”

You were brought to the present with a jolt as Daryl’s hand touched your knee, making you jump. You didn't notice your eyes had started watering and you quickly went to discreetly dab them dry. 

“Guess I fucked up. M’sorry. Was a real piece of shit.”

“No,” your voice broke as you stopped him, grabbing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze. “Complete opposite of a piece of shit. I had the wrong idea, I should be the one apologizing.”

“Tsh. Nah.” Daryl waved you off and shook his head. “Should’a told ya. Wasn't thinkin' right.” 

The two of you sat in thoughtful silence until the embers began to grow dim. The forest was thick, so even though the sun was visible as it sank lower and lower, it soon became too dark to see properly. 

“My…” you broke the silence, searching for the right word. “Aspirations have changed since then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Several seconds of silence.

“How'so?”

“Well, I don't care if he smokes, or does drugs, or curses or can't take me out on a date. He doesn't have to build me a house, but that's still an option.” Daryl snorted, and you went on. “But he does have to own a crossbow, ride a motorcycle without a helmet even though I tell him to, and he definitely needs this,” your finger tapped on the skull tattoo on the back of his hand before sliding up his arm to stroke a line down his back, “and these tattoos. And this.” You touched the mole over his upper lip. “And he definitely has to slur all his words together because of his accent.” 

“That's all, huh?” He joked softly, watching you draw your hand away from his face. “Y’got some low standards for a husband.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. He also has to go back to his family, because that's where he belongs.” There was a quick flash of hurt on his face, his lips parting and his eyes narrowing, so you continued. “And because that's where my dream house is going to be built.” 

In all your years knowing Daryl Dixon, you'd never been sexually intimate. You'd never had sex, flirtation only being reserved for playful teasing banter, you'd never really kissed, aside from that one night at the Greene farm. You'd laid with each other multiple times, more often than not sleeping curled up together in the woods or on the floor of some house. Despite never being sexually intimate there was an unspoken mutual understanding of your relationship, you were together, but not in the traditional standard sense. Neither of you ever had interest in a relationship with anyone, that was simply out of the question. Why have a partner when your best friend is everything you need? 

He became your partner at some point, maybe that's why it caused so much anguish to the both of you when you left. But it was only that night that you solidified it. And the next morning, and in the back of the car on your way back, and on the hood of the car, and after your shower back home, and after dinner, on your bed, on the floor, a second time after that, right before bed, and again the moment you woke up. 

It started with a kiss, which just so happened to be his second ever kiss, the first being you in the back of Dale’s RV. You wouldn't have ever guessed, the way he kissed with so much passion and vigor felt akin to a man kissing the same pair of lips he'd kissed his entire life. And you would have never guessed he was a virgin. 

Each touch was as if he was handling precious glassware. He never took off any of your clothes, he'd just gently tug at your shirt until you got the hint and undressed yourself. 

At some point you moved to the back of the car, he laid you down and closed the door behind him. Your soft pants and gasps quickly led to the windows fogging over, and by the end of it there were beads of precipitation dribbling down the glass. 

He led graciously. His fingers were gentle but firm against your clit through your panties, working hard and with determination to give you the orgasm you deserved. He obeyed your requests for ‘circles, ah, softer, to the left, more’, and before long he was a master in the art of making you come. 

Daryl wanted to give you oral, but you quickly pulled him back up, shaking your head as you gasped for air. “N-no, please. You. Need you.” 

It was shocking that he didn't feel embarrassed when he came early. You'd reached down to stroke his cock, only getting in a few strokes before he pulled away with a strangled gasp, spilling his hot cum on your bare stomach. He didn't have time to feel embarrassed because only seconds later you were taking him in your desperate mouth, giving it your all to make him hard again. 

He didn't take long. After stiffening in your mouth he eased your head away, maneuvering you on your back in such an effortless way that it made you look like you weighed nothing. Due to your wetness and unimaginable arousal it didn't hurt at all when he finally pushed in after rubbing his cock all over your desperate slick flesh. 

You cried out anyway. Your jaw dropped and your eyes rolled back, clutching at his bare shoulders when you felt his pelvis fully connect with you. 

“F-fuck.” You groaned as your eyes rolled back, digging your fingers deeper into his skin.

He let out a moan then, a light and vulnerable sound. You could feel him shaking on top of you as he fought not to finish again. It broke your heart, knowing he wanted to have sex with you so badly, to please you like you had him. 

You stayed as still as humanly possible while you waited for him to move. 

Daryl’s breath slowed and he moved, finally. He fucked you slow at first, slow and deep thrusts that managed to bury his dick further and further inside you each time. With each thrust he let out either a shaky whimper or a deep grunt, and soon he was picking up the pace, fucking a moan out of you each time he drove his throbbing cock back inside. 

When his hand connected with the warm skin of your torso you whimpered, tossing your head back against the car seat. His hands stroked your sides, rough and dirty fingers scraping against your nipples and breasts. He gave one a firm squeeze, eliciting a sharp moan from you, one that he eagerly swallowed down with his hungry mouth, kissing you deeply and feverishly. He was breathing heavy through his nose, hot puffs of air sending waves of heat across your upper lip and cheeks.

A rough slam of his pelvis against yours sent the tip of his cock so deep it was almost painful, your gasp choked in your tight throat, your thighs squeezing the life out of his torso. He groaned at how responsive you were, his hot wet lips sliding down your face to start kissing your neck. 

Daryl was quiet in the sense that he didn't say much. He groaned and whimpered, sure, but he hadn’t said a word since entering you. Which was totally fine by you, but you were a sucker for dirty talk. It was one of your favorite parts of sex.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, hoping to get a response. He just grunted, a possible returned compliment, his head not moving from the crook of your neck. 

A noticeable increase in his pacing had all thoughts vanishing from your mind in a puff of smoke. You could feel the side of his jaw clenching against your neck, the skin hot and prickly with stubble, the friction eventually becoming uncomfortable. As if he could read your mind he raised his head and looked down at you, the tip of his tongue peeking between his teeth, looking like a man in deep, oh, deep, concentration. 

“Fu-uh-uck-” You babbled, your heavy eyelids shutting against the brutal force of his thrusts. You grabbed onto his biceps again and held on for dear life, giving them a squeeze each time he gave a really deep thrust. 

“That’s it.” Your heart jumped in your chest at the sound of his voice, it was gravely and sounded from the base of his throat. You felt your lower stomach do that delicious flip sensation, your clit throbbing in response to his voice. 

“Mmm’god.”

“I know. I know.” He breathed, taking a second to readjust himself between your legs before going back to his artistic thrusting. He was grinding against you then, barely pulling out, using the full weight of his hips to force himself as deep as possible while he ground into you. You couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, it was a miracle that a virgin could fuck like that. He was a savant at something he’d never done before. You came hard around his throbbing dick, your walls clenching down so hard that it ripped his orgasm straight out of his body. 

You gasped, your fingers tightening around his flexed biceps as your orgasm shook through you in violent waves. You moved your hips on your own, grinding up and against his pelvis to draw your pleasure  out for  as long as possible. 

Daryl wasn't expecting it, he just came. His jaw dropped and he held onto the nearest body part, which just so happened to be your neck. He didn’t choke you, which came as a slight dismissible disappointment, he just held onto you with his large hands as he finished. It was so sudden and unexpected that he couldn’t control the sounds he made, better for you, he let out this beautiful high moan that sent flashes of Daryl in Atlanta behind your closed eyes. His body shuttered and jerked as every single rope of his cum flooded your insides, coating your vice like walls like spilled paint. 

You didn’t give him time to recuperate. You squirmed under him, swapping your positions, and took his softening cock in your mouth. He groaned under you, grabbing you by your hair to pull you away, only to shudder when he felt his cock growing hard again. You smirked against the tip as he gently pulled you back down.

Halfway through he tugged you off of him, the two of you switching spots once again. You whined when you felt his lips connect with your puffy clit, your mind swirling as he used the flexed tip of his tongue to drift between your slick folds. 

“Oh god, daryl.” You panted and ran your fingers through your sweaty hair to push it back over your head. You were either extremely sensitive due to the two orgasms, or he was an extremely skilled pussy eater. Either way you came fast, clenching your thighs around his head to clamp his mouth tight against you. He didn’t ease up as you came, his tongue and lips pulling tricks you didn’t think possible, drawing out your orgasm longer than any time previously. 

He slid up between your legs, planting kisses from your wet mess up your stomach to your chest. He suddenly bit down on one of your nipples, gentle at first, but the moan that came from your lips had him tightening his teeth.

You were under the impression that he would ease you down from your high with light kisses and soft touches, but apparently, he had other plans. His cock plunged back into you before you had any idea what was happening, and he quickly set a fast and intense pace. His hands slipped around both of your wrists and pulled, using the leverage to both fuck you deeper and keep you firmly in place.

If you could’ve seen the state you were in, you’d be a red hot embarrassed bitch. Your mouth was hanging open, your eyes fluttering between open and closed, sounds coming from your throat that envied any moan and whine to ever come out of a woman's mouth. Your hair kept falling back in your face each time his hips slammed into yours, no matter how many times you hastily pushed it away or tucked it behind your ears. You looked at him for as long as you could, but you were too stimulated, it was too hot, he was too beautiful, you had to let them fall shut as you came again.

As cliche as it sounds, your final orgasm, for that night at least, was world shattering. You didn’t care how loud you were or what types of faces you were making. Your body was completely out of your control, your brain on pause as it struggled to deal with the flood of dopamine and oxytocin. 

Daryl wasn’t looking any better, he’d ran miles before and came out looking more put together. He huffed as he came inside you yet again, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum. He braced himself on his elbows on either side of your body, his head drooping down as he managed a few sloppy thrusts. He muttered something then, something you were too fucked up to make out through his thick and slurred accent.

When he finally drew his red and tender dick out of you his heart seemed to skip a beat. The two loads spilled out the second he withdrew, trickling down your folds and over the swollen head of his dick. That was a sight he’d remember till the day he died.  

You fought to catch your breath after he all but collapsed on top of you. It was pure bliss for a few moments, and then it was too hot and too close. Before you could say anything he lifted himself off of you, still waging his own war against his lungs. 

“Getting old there, huh?” You teased, sliding up into a sitting position after grabbing your panties. Yeah, he's old, it's not the fact you just did the same amount of exercise as swimming across the atlantic ocean.

“Shut up.” He breathed as he wiped his damp hair from his face. 

After a few moments of silence, apart from the sounds of your breathing, you dressed yourselves and began loading all your shit into your car. 

“You really walked six days? No bike, no car?” You questioned as he plopped down into the driver's seat, the flame of his lighter illuminating his face. The smell of cigarette smoke had you leaning over and he pressed the filter against your lips. 

“No bike.”

“That’s kind of stupid.”

“Huh. Rich.” He smirked around the cigarette at you before glancing over his shoulder to watch the dirt road as he reversed.

“Yeah, true.”

Your life wasn’t magically fixed after that night, and neither was Daryls, but it did get a lot easier. You zipped up your coat but your shoes were still full of snow, that kind of better. A lot of shit happened, you had your arguments, but no fights. After RIck died you ran off together looking for his body, for Daryl’s closure, living off in the woods somewhere with a dog that liked to growl at you. He was over possessive of Daryl, and so were you, so the two of you were butting heads often.

He never did build you that house, but you moved into one of the newly built homes in Alexandria. He did build you a back porch, which looked great for someone who’d never built an entire screened in porch before, even if it did look a little raggedy in some spots. He even brought home pots for you to plant ‘shit’ in, as he said. 

Daryl wasn’t home often, which didn't bother you anymore, because you were out there with him. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @louifaith @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[iridiss]

Dante and Laurance both being present for the events of emerald secret and starlight. Both of them finally getting to show a more serious side when shit hits the fan. Laurance being one of the mind-controlled companions in emerald secret, eyes glowing green and grinning ear-to-ear as he’s rendered unrecognizable to his friends. Dante begging him to come back to him, refusing to give up on him. This gives Laurance a good enough understanding of how it feels to be under the emerald potion mind control that when it’s time for Garroth, a hulking, powerful, beastly, animalistic wolf man, to become possessed and turn against his friends, Laurance faces him head-on and fights to get him back. Dante emotionally supporting the gang, mainly Aphmau and Aaron, throughout the entirety of When Angels Fall. Bringing them food and drinks, checking on them, keeping Aaron grounded. Dante horrified to see his best friend, Travis Valkrum, being controlled and used by his abusive father one last terrible time. Dante screaming at Michael to give him back, furious and angry and distraught, THIS close to tearing Michael’s ghost to shreds. Dante immediately offering to give his life to Aphmau to be turned into a relic, if it means they could get Travis back. Dante becoming one of the relics. Dante helping Travis through his recovery period afterwards, never leaving his side for a moment, carrying him in his arms on their way out of the island and letting Travis sleep on his shoulder or with his head in his lap while they’re traveling or resting. Helping him through nightmares. Laurance helping Garroth with his own recovery, occasionally checking in on Aphmau, Aaron, Travis and Dante as well, warm and gentle. Laurance and Dante both thinking, “No one is ever going to take you away again. I’m never going to let anything like that happen to you again.”

[buzzyb33]

Hey!! Could I please request a fic for Danny Aarons?! Nobody writes for him and they should because he is absolutely beautiful! Maybe where you’re also a YouTuber and friends with Danny and pretty much everyone in the uk YouTube scene and it’s the night of the sidemen 10 year party and he confesses he loves u. Thank u!!!🫶🏻🫶🏻

Of course!! This is a great idea and I love my boy Danny.

Prompt: in request.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, bit long, detail on reader appearance.

I sit at my desk as I record a Fortnite video with Danny, Simon and Josh.

I go through my locker as the three talk.

“Y/n hurry up and pick a fucking skin” Danny groans.

“Shut up Danny wait..” I respond in a distracted tone.

I scroll through my locker and settle on panda team leader.

I ready up and sip my water.

“Simon don’t take all my kills again either.” I shoot as I adjust my position.

Josh laughs and Danny speaks up before Simon.

“Wait- you two play together?” He asks a little confused to which Simon laughs.

“Thanks for watching my videos mate.”

-

Later on when playing I look at Josh’s skin and do the high five emote, Simon is still recording and he does the emote with me.

Josh laughs and pipes up “you coming to the party next week? I know you said you might but..”

“Hm? Oh yeah probably don’t wanna miss that- it’s important for you lot so-“

Danny cuts in quickly. “Can we go together y/n you don’t live too far away from me.” Simon hums in acknowledgement at Danny’s eagerness.

“Sure okay- I’ll message you, you can come mine and have some pre drinks with me.”

After that recording I did a few more on the same scenes to clear my schedule knowing how pissed I’ll get, recording a video with Deji just a simple TikTok reaction:

“Eugh- dej! That guy is so- mmmm- eww look.”

I say as beavo eating rice comes up.

“When I first saw him he actually made me physically gag at my phone- he’s rank.”

I say in a passionate tone and he laughs loudly.

“Would- you do the same content?” He cuts himself off from his laughs.

I chuckles and shake my head.

“Nah then I’d have to pay for an editor because I can’t watch myself do that..” I shake my head.

“Wait you edit all your own videos?” He says to me sincerely.

“And your other channels?”

“Yeah! I edit for my main, second and I mod my own social medias, while I pay Danny Aaron’s editor to do my twitch shit so- yeah,” I hum as I adjust my hair.

“Oh cool- Kay then.”

The next day when I was getting my clothes ready for the next day I got a FaceTime call from Danny, answering it wouldn’t be a problem, would help me pass the time.

I answer and smile into the phone, propping it upon my monitor as I logged around my room, AirPods in.

“Hey Danny!”

I call as I look for a dress.

“Hi- what you doing?” He responds, taking an inward breath.

“Pickin’ an outfit for tomorrow dunno to go for pink or white..” I let a ghost of a smile wonder on my lips as I shift through my many clothes.

“Pink- you look p- pinks a better colour especially in dresses, anyway.”

He says and I pop my head back into frame, my freckles dusting my face and light blue yes looking into the camera.

“Alright- yeah you’re probably right I’ll pick some stocking then we can talk, yeah?”

I pick a light pink play suit, white stockings and white flats, I put my outfit down and talk to Danny through it, after that I sat at my desk and spoke to him, a gentle tone in his voice which seemed to be only present around certain people.

“What’re you wearing Danny?”

I say after a couple minutes of silence on the call, my attention taken up by the sims.

“I dunno- cargos and a shirt. Yeah.”

-

The next day as I get out the shower, I put my clothes on and start on my makeup I get a knock on my door.

“Come in Danny! I’m in my room!”

I shout and I hear my door open and footsteps ascending toward my room.

He leaks his head round and gives me a cheesy grin.

“Hey y/n.”

He was in a crisp white shirt with a blue spray paint font smiley face at the back. He was in black cargos and to match his shirt, crisp white airforces.

“You look smart, Mr Aarons.” I smile and he smiles back, sitting in my bed.

“You look pretty, miss l/n.” He retorts, the grin not leaving his face.

We speak as I do my makeup, about videos, friends, family, us.

Mad I finish my makeup I order him to get the drinks from my kitchen as long as some glasses.

I smile as I face my chair toward the bed where he sits, pouring a vodka coke.

“You excited? I’m looking forward to it.”

I Say with a cheeky grin, leaning forward slightly and sipping it.

He smiles and nods.

I lean back and smile, flicking my light brown hair behind my shoulder.

“When should I call the Uber, n/n?”

“15 minutes let’s get the buzz.”

I grin at him.

Over the next 15 minutes, the two got laughs in, and Danny even getting a confidence boost.

In the taxi, Danny let his arm hand loosely across Y/ns shoulders.

Getting out the car and getting let into the party the two going their separate ways for a bit, the boys had rented a decent club in north London at a lot of people were there, A LOT.

Y/n went to go talk to george Clarkey and then Talia.

After mingling around she was getting tipsy and when in this state she got very giggly.

“H-hey-“ I turn around and find Danny’s eyes, his ones deep and hazy, clearly already intoxicated.

“Hi darlin’…” he murmured as his hands find my shoulders, his head falling slightly.

“Danny? You okay?” I say as I inch closer to him.

“Y/n- I just-“ he says and closes his eyes briefly.

“I think-“ he sighs

“I can’t help falling in love with you..”

I look at him and feel my face flush, I get on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“I love you too..”

He smiles lazily and brings me into a passionate kiss, oddly coordinated from the intoxication.

I wrap my arms around his neck and he keeps moving his lips with mine, meanwhile, Ethan goes up to josh and elbows him slightly.

“Never guess who I just saw tonguing it on?” He says with an almost proud look.

“What? Simon and Talia? Vikk and Ellie? Uh- Lannan and ilsa?” He replies sipping his drink and side eyeing Ethan for a confirmation.

“Nope- Danny Aarons himself and miss Y/n l/n”

Josh sputters and looks at Ethan “fuck off.”

-

The next morning where Danny had stayed at Y/ns their words weren’t forgotten, a simple but gentle feel to the air, a new found tensions, just bellow awkward.

Finally approaching him as he was getting ready to leave she spoke with reluctance.

“Do- did you mean what you said or- well, and did, or was it just the alcohol, Danny?”

With no hesitation he shook his head: “I meant it, every word, every kiss, I- do love you- if that’s okay?”

I smile and feel my face heat up again.

“That’s okay..”

A/n:

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. CHRISTMAS AND THAT 😭🙏🏽

Finishing up a request then another zerkaa fic!!

Requests are open!!

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part VIII

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pairing: Ghost!Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Black!Reader Warnings: DEATH, BLOOD, mentions of drug use. Graphic depiction of death. Word Count: 2.3K Summary: Darkness falls... A/N: Two chapters left.

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV] | [Part V] | [Part VI] | [Part VII] | [Part IX] | [☁Masterpost ☁] | [♫The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When he ran his fingers over the guitar strings, you could see the longing in his eyes and in the clench of his jaw. You knew very little about instruments. You saw it collecting dust in the corner of a thrift shop, lonely and in desperate need of repair, and you took it. You didn't even know if he'd be able to use it. If he could take it to the other side with him when he inevitably left.

None of that mattered to you. You just knew he'd need it. When it came back to you, repaired and good as new, you rushed home to give it to him.

"I know you said you played bass," you rushed to say as he grasped the guitar neck in shaking hands, "But I also remember you saying that you used to play guitar too. At least for a little while. And...yeah..."

"Why?" He asked, softly, cradling the guitar like it was a newborn in his hands.

"I don't know," you admitted, "I just figured I'd--you needed something good. Just for once."

He swallowed hard, and let out a short laugh before running his fingers through his curls and turning away.

"It's so...wow. I mean...Shit."

You fidgeted with your fingers as he took a moment to collect his thoughts, unsure of what to say next. And as he turned to you again, golden hour washed over you both, casting you in a warm glow that made him seem more alive than you'd ever seen him.

"Thank you." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat then laughed, "I need to re-learn how to play this thing. It's been a while."

You watched the mirth dance across his face and leaned against the windowsill in satisfaction, "Mhm. Because you owe me a song for my troubles. Maybe even two."

In the blink of an eye, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, cradling your face in his warm hands. His thumbs swept across the apples of your cheeks before his hands slipped down to the back of your neck, down your shoulders, your chest, and finally slipping around your waist to pull you in closer. You didn't remember draping your arms around his shoulders, or curling your fingers in his dark curls. Like muscle memory. Like in another life you'd done it a million times.

He pulled away only to pepper your face with more kisses, something you felt like he'd wanted to do for so long by how his hands grabbed your hips.

"I'll write you a library of music." He breathlessly said, kissing you again, "Whatever you want."

─ ·𖥸· ─

You stared at the stained wood floor, numb to the reality of what you've just discovered. It felt like the old, brown stain was growing in width, crawling towards you like you called to it. The ringing in your ears, and the sharp, shallow breaths you took nearly drowned out the sound of the intercom when it rang.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked him, finally forcing yourself to look directly into his face and not at what remained of his body spilled onto the floor. He looked...sick. Pale. Very much dead. And it startled you. How many times had you both walked over this spot. Could he feel it underneath the layers of varnish and paint? If he could, he hid it well. But judging by the way he worked his jaw and avoided eye contact with you, you didn't think he knew any better than you about what the landlord may have done.

You asked again, "Aaron, are you sure you want to do this?"

His eyes flickered over to you, dull and lifeless, before refocusing on the stain, "Yeah."

The intercom rang again and you hesitated before pressing the buzzer to let the visitor in. You could almost hear your heart thrumming in your ears as the footsteps creaked on the staircase and echoed down the hall.

You tried to practice what you'd say when they finally arrived, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth it to rehearse. After all, you'd probably sound like a crazy person.

It was worth a try.

A heavy knuckle rapped against the door, pulling you from your thoughts as suddenly as you slipped into them. You shot another glance at him, and then dragged yourself to the door. And as your hand hesitated over the doorknob, Aaron cleared his throat behind you.

"Do it. I need to know."

You nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the door open. Danny--Aaron's childhood friend, former bandmate, and one of the last people to see him alive--looked you over with a furrowed brow of concern.

"Shit, love, you look like death."

You felt like death.

You forced a faint smile that instantly fell and you shook your head in an effort to get your thoughts together. What little thoughts you had, anyway.

"I...this isn't going to be easy. I couldn't really tell you over the phone. So thank you for coming."

You took a step back to allow him into your space. He seemed to pause before crossing the threshold. You could imagine it was a surreal experience to be in a place you made so many memories in, so long ago.

"It feels the same. Though you're loads neater than we all were." He chuckled softly to himself, lost in his memories for a moment, "Do you still have that one burner on the stove that you need to kinda rev up to get going?"

You smiled at that. Mildly annoyed that the landlord never bothered to change the kitchen in 20 years but also mildly charmed by the idea that you and your visitor had another thing in common with one another.

"Yeah, I hate it. I try to avoid using it as often as possible."

"We did too," he added wistfully. You could see his eyes starting to water, and he turned away to collect himself. "Is this gonna be a tough chat?"

You wanted to say no. Maybe spare the inevitable pain his close friend would feel in having to relive the night--and the follow up--all over again. But then you glanced over at Aaron standing at the window, still and closed off like an old Gothic statue of a biblical martyr. This wasn't about you. This wasn't even about Danny. You straightened your back and forced the words out.

"I found his blood. On...on the floor. A-and the windowsill." You shakily admitted aloud for the first time. You saw him visibly stiffen at the admission, and his eyes widened.

"Who's blood?"

"Aaron's. I found it."

"He's playing dumb," Aaron suddenly said, beside you, "he knows what happened. Ask him."

You weren't sure if he saw your eyes flicker to the space beside you registering everything the unseen entity was saying.

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, anxiously, "How do you know it's his?"

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and asked pointedly, "How did he die, Danny? What happened that night?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because he's here." You plainly stated, motioning beside you at the shape he couldn't see.

He gave you a strange look, and sneered at you, "You're sick. You're fucking sick, and this is a terrible thing to do."

Aaron rolled his eyes, "He's so full of shit."

"Fine ask me something only Aaron would know. Since I'm supposedly a liar, it'd be easy to prove wouldn't it?" You calmly asked.

"I'm not entertaining this." He grumbled, turning to leave.

"Tell him that you know he stupidly bought drugs off some guy in an alley in California and accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show. I was the only one that sat in the waiting room for him."

"He did WHAT?" You blurted out.

"What?" He turned again, looking at you like you had three heads. You briefly glanced at Aaron again, who motioned for you to share what he said.

"Um..." you swallowed, slightly disturbed by the new information you were given, "He says you accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show? And that none of your friends waited in the hospital for you but him?"

His eye twitched and you felt like he might yell at you, instead he took a deep breath, "Who told you about that? It was fuckin' Natalia wasn't it?"

For fucks sake.

"I've never even met Talia, but I know she was there that night wasn't she? Come on, help me out here."

He stared at you for an uncomfortably long time.

"Who are you?"

You chose to ignore that question, "I know there was an argument that night, Gavin hit him over the head, and he was dead after that. What. Happened. That. Night?"

Danny sighed and took a step towards you, "You know, I hadn't thought about Gavin in ages. Not until he died, anyway. Overdose. Not surprising, but still sad all the same. We separated on pretty bad terms. He got too big, decided he didn't need us. I make the effort to talk to his kids at least once a week, even though he was a piece of shit in the end. Talia took it hard. But even then, I rarely thought about Gavin."

"From what I heard, he was hard to be around sometimes," you said. Aaron snorted, leaning up against the wall.

Danny quirked a brow at you, "From what you heard?"

"He's in denial," Aaron sighed. "Can't say I blame him. I didn't believe in that crazy ghost shit either. But, y'know, here we are."

Danny glanced in Aaron's direction like he heard him, but you were sure he couldn't have. The younger man pushed himself off the wall and walked up to Danny, circling him in examination. You saw his shoulders visibly tense.

"I told you, Aaron is literally here." You carefully reiterated, motioning to where he was standing.

"What else has he told you?" Danny asked.

"That he was in love with Talia, that Gavin was jealous. Considering how things turned out, I guess he wasn't too far off with that assumption." You tried to hide the hint of shameful jealousy in your voice. "I assumed that's why Gavin killed him."

He said nothing. Aaron sidled up beside you, looking him over suspiciously.

"He's acting weird." He murmured.

"You think Gavin killed him over a girl?" Danny plainly asked.

"I think things like that are sadly very common. Jealousy, drugs, money, love. People will kill for a number of things." You subconsciously found yourself taking a small step back.

The red-headed older man sighed deeply, "I loved Aaron, man. I know I said I didn't think that much about Gavin before he finally fucked off to Hell or wherever he ended up. But I think about Aaron every day. He was the one that taught me how to write sheet music, y'know? I'm still not very good. I try though." He scratched the back of his head. You were having a hard time following the conversation, "We knew we were fucked. The minute it happened--when he stopped moving--we knew...what the fuck were we gonna do? It was so stupid. Just an accident."

"Accidents happen." You carefully whispered, taking another small step back. His eyes caught the movement.

"Accidents do happen. All the time. But our apartment was filled with drugs, we were about to get our biggest break yet, we had so much to lose. I--we loved the guy. We did. But we could always get another bassist."

Your heart sank, "Why would you do that to him? Your own friend?"

"Don't act so self-righteous. Have you ever had anything to lose? Have you ever been desperate?" Danny took a step towards you, "Have you ever been hungry? You do what you need to."

Alarm signals went off in your head, and Aaron appeared behind him, "You need to leave. Now."

It didn't make sense to you, "If it was an accident, why hide it? Why not just admit what happened?"

Your words died in your throat when you noticed how close he was standing to you. Your blood ran ice cold, paralyzing you in fear you'd never felt before. You locked eyes with Aaron over his shoulder as he leaned over you.

"Then again," you whispered, "I could be wrong. It could just be a mistake--"

It felt like you'd been punched in the stomach. You wondered why he would do that to you when he was so much larger than you? When you'd been so nice to him? When you both loved Aaron as much as you did?

Then the pain doubled. You clutched your stomach just as he pulled the blade out, and your hands were covered in blood. You didn't register Aaron screaming for you and pushing Danny into a table across the room, or the sound of breaking wood and glass.

Your knees buckled under you, your vision darkened. You tried to drag yourself across the floor. To what? You weren't sure. You just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted someone to find you and make everything better.

You thought of your grandmother, your friends, and your parents. And as the blurry visage of Aaron appeared in front of you, you started to cry.

"Please, please, please. I don't want to die," you tried to say as your vision blurred.

If he was saying anything you couldn't understand it. You felt yourself struggling to breathe, you tasted blood on your tongue.

This couldn't be it. This couldn't be how you fucking died. You were angry. So angry that you could scream and punch the floor.

And then...

He grabbed you in his arms, and you were falling. Through the floor. Through the veil that separated you from the rest of the world.

Into darkness that enveloped you both.

[confessmau]

I have trouble explaining to people why I so throughly hate Ghost in general because it’s just. She sa’d someone and no one gave a shit when Zane said anything and I physically cannot get past that, as dumb as that is considering it’s just jess’s shit writing again.

~~

(mod thoughts below

AGREED!! anon they fucked that up so bad

i can see the ambition behind the ghost plot, especially in a series primarily focused on relationships, but it's resolved in such a gross way im honestly shocked that no one really brought it up before, like, last year.

imo i think the initial set up was pretty well done and does make sense? we always see ghost and zane's interactions before any character conflict, so there's no question about the objective truth. lucinda directly states that kim was possesed several episodes BEFORE ghost assults zane, and the scene is played dead straight. garroth, aaron, and aph's reactions, while supremely shitty make sense considering how they've previously treated zane in past seasons, and all three of them have had a history of assuming zane's overreacting over nothing; garroth spent the 3.5 side stories being a huge dick (picking apart zane's appearance during the weird excercise saga, belitting his interests, and straight up starts using zane's name as a verb to call out laur for overreacting) and laughs at the idea that anyone would like zane enough to sa him. aaron tries to use facts and logic to get zane to admit he's wrong like he did in the sick day ep. aph spent several episodes trying to teach zane "social lessons", and assumes that he's making a social failure and yells at him for it, later pulling him in the hall to correct him. garroth later has a sad eyes serious scene where he realizes that zane was telling the truth and he seriously fucked up.

jesson just forgot to, like, have anyone apologize for their actions....or address it in any meaningful way ever again.

the only time ghost ever gets confronted aboht the her actions is in s5, AFTER she's already escalated to attempting to actually kill kc. however, instead of focusing on her refusal to respect zane's boundaries or even her recent violent streak, it's about kim.

specifically about how kim is uncomfortable with ghost using her body to harrass zane because kim "doesn't want people to think she's into zane because she doesn't find zane attractive".

which is the exact justification garroth had for making fun of zane for being sa'd.

supremely nasty jesson thanks.

[aphverse-confessions]

hate how ghost gets away with all the shit she does because "is ghost".

like, when michi TRIED to trick Aaron into kissing, it was considered a step too far and she was immediately ousted from the group from that point forward. garroth and laurance both stand up for aaron in a broment despite how they were still in that weird aarmau stage where they'd stop at nothing to rip their relationship apart, and ironically Zane is the person who ultimately tells michi to fuck off and if he ever sees her try that to anyone again he would not hesitate.

but when ghost ACTUALLY kisses Zane, everyone immediately accuses him of lying even though lucinda confirmed the possession. no one has any issue with taking ghost home with them because "uwu sad ghost". ghost is treated like a romantic rival instead of an actual predator who doesn't change her behavior and has literally tried to kill kc in pursuit of zane. she's literally the most aggessive out of all the characters with boundary issues and the worst she ever gets is kim getting mad because she doesn't like that people think she has a crush on zane.

.

[codename-adler]

i would Love to hear abt ur kathea wip :-) -dayurno

thank you @dayurno it’s an honor and thank you @fandomnerd101 i hope this provides what you also asked for <3

Adler’s PiPs ~ Project: Kathea 🌺

Kathea Lore 2:

Their 2nd “meeting” (1st being in therapy and vvv ugly) is when Kate and Aaron mutually break up after her return from the psych ward and his return from Thanksgiving (see dtyfstf); although the fic wouldn’t start there, that is the moment that created this spin-off ship/fic/project/AU.

Having heard how much shit the Foxes are going through, Thea flies in to check in on Kevin who has ghosted her (thus breaking her promise again of no-contact but way, way worse).

In a scene reminiscent of Andreil’s first meeting, Kate and Thea literally run into each other when Kate exits Aaron’s dorm so fast she slams door 317 into Thea and falls into her.

Because Kate is crying so hard and because Thea does not want their therapy group to get on her back any more than they already are, Thea puts her Kevin mission on hold and takes Kate back with her (idk where yet… hotel room? Bar? Diner? Cab?) to “support” her therapy mate.

Thea is the more surprised of the two at her decision to take Kate under her wing (u know like a raven).

Kate starts to believe Thea is not as bad/mean as she projects in group therapy.

Thea doesn’t understand why she went out of her way like that, why she acted so out of character, so she proceeds to /gently/ but firmly kick Kate out, call her an Uber, and the next time they see each other, weeks later, in group, Thea is cold and distant.

That's the main scene to be written at the moment, the thing that’ll start me up and show me the golden path of Kathea.

Miscellaneous thoughts:

To me they're like if a nymph (Katelyn) and a goddess (Thea) fell in love.

While it causes no real impact on Kate’s career (cheer + med) to be queer, Thea’s pro Exy career is highly at risk, what with already being an ex-Raven and a Black woman in a mixed sport; it’s important to me that we’re all aware of that; and thus despite both women being each other’s first sapphic/queer relationship, they have widely different backgrounds and stakes at play in committing (or not) to this new love.

Katelyn doesn’t want to see Thea as a threat, for herself, Aaron and the Vixens/Foxes, but sometimes the way Thea handles her past and present is scary, and Kate doesn’t know if Thea is trustworthy with everything (and Riko) going on; those who have read ‘dance ‘til you find someone to die for’ know why trust and betrayal are big issues in the Katheaverse.

However, Thea doesn’t know anything about the vastness of Riko's evils; her main tormentor has always been Tetsuji Moriyama. 

Riko acted the way all male Ravens (except Jean and Kevin) have always treated her: with misogyny and bigotry. Riko wasn’t special, not with her, not to her; but she doesn’t realize yet the Ravens were a cult, that it wasn’t normal, that she has repressed some things and that what is hurting her inside is also hurting others, whether fellow ex-Ravens like Jean and Kevin, or outsiders like Kate and Aaron who become collateral damage wave after wave Riko creates.

Of course I’m playing with the age gap between Thea (26-28) and Kate (20-22) because I think it’s very sexy and I’m self-projecting what I wish would happen to me love-wise 💅 I also previously thought about bringing up Thea’s trauma with younger partners (i.e., the whole Kevin grooming shitshow that was made-up by a-hole fans) to lay the issue to rest once and for all, but since some of y’all provoked Nora Sakavic into defending Queen Theodora Muldani and blasting y’all to dust, I don’t think I will! But who knows. It was important to me at one point, I’m just saying. More crumbs for you, eh.

Katelyn Young (Mackenzie) Lore:

Full name: Katelyn Beth Mackenzie Young

Height: 5’4”-5’5” to Thea’s 6’0” 😌

Career aspiration: Neonatology (Addison Montgomery did a lot for her)(and not just career wise *wink wink*)(she hasn’t realized that yet)(Thea is a lot like Addison u know *wink wink*)

Relationship history: before Aaron came along, her first real love, she had 2 boyfriends. Number 1 dared slap her twice before she ended things; Number 2 cheated on her with 4 different girls while they dated. Aaron was the first to treat her well, to heal a bit of her trust issues, to be completely devoted to her. They’re very important to me. I love my boyo Aaron and he deserves recognition for the love he gave Katelyn and fought for.

Kate is an only child from a very strict family; the parent she is closest to is her step-mother.

And that's what i got for now. A lot and nothing. But thank you again for enabling me. I love my girls. Again, if any of yous would like to request more of Kathea or more of a particular project, head over to my pinned post to see the list of 'Adler's Projects in Progress (PiPs)' and ask away!

[cringelordofchaos]

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- NAMES × PRØNOUNS = IT / SHE / HE ×××❤️‍🔥🎸🐍

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--im; 🇷🇸 - serbian × 🏳️‍🌈 - queer × ✝️ - (culturally)orthodox(+witchy ;))×××

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biggest obsession lately: MINECRAFT (all fandoms)

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• other blogs - pronouns.page - music i listen to - tagging system - characters I relate to

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нЕмА сПаСа Ни ТеБи нИ мЕнИ сВе Је ЛаЖ и рАј сЕ ПеНи (/Ј)

MY FAVORITEST POST OF ALL TIME /hj... (unless...)

I forget to update my pronouns page frequently so it's not really worth checking out.

{o.we,o,qw,qw.qq,o,qw,qw.qe,wt,qo,t,y×one^day.q,qr.wp,i,t,qr.t,ww,t,qi,wt,qt,qr,t.t,qw,qo,t-as.well (wq,qr,qw,t,qo.o.r,qt,qr,wp.e,qt,qe,qw,t,wp,t.qe,wt.journey.w,t,y,qt,qi,t.i,q,qr,r)}

DRAWING REQUESTS R ALWAYS OPEN! though my art skills r not up to everyone's standards, it's like free anyway so

(TMF Sean userboxes made by @speedydestinydream)

Uhm ok nobody's seeing this? Good. Rhea Ripley's hot AS FUCKKKK dude

Uhm and also. Random facts about me

I'm not autistic

I once hit my head so hard it was bleeding (and never got treated for it lmao)

Aaron Mitchell is just like me fr

By blood im actually more aromanian + Slovenian + ashkenazi Jewish + other shit than Serbian but by culture im Serbian (and Americanized... (Spend too much time on the net))

I love opposites attract trope because 100% of the time I relate to both the characters involved

I used to have an identity crisis over what kind of caricature I wanted to be but now I just let myself exist in peace without putting an active effort into just existing

I'm more culturally orthodox christian and tbh I don't really believe in that stuff but I won't give up the holidays and traditions. As for witchcraft it's fun and you can't exactly disprove the existence of spirituality so I am interested but again when I practice witchcraft it more feels like roleplaying so uhm. Not sure if I can call myself s true withx or a christian but who gives a shit.

Potentially alter human but I realized my obsession with alter human labels in the last might've been caused by the fact that I wasn't fully happy with who I was. still act like a creature at times though.

I have been called "fascinating" 6 times, once by a licensed psychiatrist.

I tend to overshare and also I was extremely scared of sharing the fact that I'm mostly aromanian because I thought it would reveal where I hid the money or some shit. I still am scared but oh well

Don't have ADHD either fuck that

I am at risk of a spine deformation. Lmao

I get extremely obsessive over fiction and it tends to last for... Idk? I don't count.

I'm picky yet indecisive as hell

Selfish and extremely lazy

So sarcastic all the time to the point of some people thinking I'm being genuine and then getting mad at me. I mean I dug my own grave there so.

I accidentally ghost people, respond really late to texts, if at all. I am trying to work on this because I have been made aware that this type of behaviour can genuinely hurt people and I don't want to hurt anyone

Had self diagnosed depression in the past

Cisginger

Autistic Craig Tucker real

Heavily heavily HEAVILY relate to Aaron Mitchell from the Mitchells Vs the machines (he is literally me in every way possible)

Unhealthily addicted to my phone

Sometimes draw but I'm horrible at it

My head hurts

Freakblr OG 💪

Suck at sports but like them but I hate working in teams because I'm afraid I'll disappoint everyone. Yaknow???

Experience self suspected social gender dysphoria (recovering)

Otherlink, mild specie dysphoria, possibly therian

Self suspected low object permanence

[arsenalgbt]

What if Aaron think the reason is the sponsorship thing but in actual fact its not? What if Martin has continously shot down the idea of being public because he doesn't think they'll last and doesn't want his name permanently connected to a man who he knows is going to break his heart? Martin doesn't think Aaron is serious enough, mature enough, for forever so he's trying to enjoy him while he can. Before it all comes crashing down? (Also absolute yes to Frida being his partner!). Aaron buys Martin's lie because he doesn't understand the confusing Tiktok/ice skating sponsorship world and also there's no way Martin would ever lie to him. When the world embraces Martin and Kai, he starts to feel insecure especially when Ben makes a joke about how Kai and Martin can have really intelligent conversations

In terms of Deckai, I feel like Kai's done the big public relationship before. It wasn't his choice of course but he was young and reckless and got papped with his ex. The public interest and continous focus on that relationship destroyed it and Kai had constantly felt like he had to be absolutely perfect. He still feels like that but with Dec, he can relax a little because Dec is kind and caring and understands what public relationships can be like. Dec and Kai are respite for each other and they've taken steps to ensure their not papped (and if they are that the photos don't run). Dec enjoyed it for awhile but he doesn't love being a secret when it seems the world wants to embrace Martin and Kai

Also is Ben dating Wilo at this time and he's projecting his insecurities or is Wilo and everything that comes with him Ben's karma for being a little shit to Aaron and Dec?

WHAT A CLASSIC ASSHOLE-ISH MARTIN IN A MARTINDALE PLOT!!!! love it! (((classic to me, wrote him like that twice already T_T))) asjfsjkfasdlfkjasjk I'm into it... with his newly found "TikTok fame" too........... less time to go on dates with Aaron... using his busy schedule to sloooooooooowly very slowly ghosting his own boyfriend 😭 damn... can I add trent here LOLLL I feel like for this plot we can add spicy jealousy as a plot point (not utilising kai tho, cuz kai is Declan's boyfriend, and Declan and Aaron are teammates anyway)

so like

trent. we all know trent/Aaron were roommates since England youth... they're fond of each other... idk either Aaron confessed to trent when they were younger but trent rejected him OR trent confessed > Aaron rejected him - either scenario, they are still besties to this day. say, trent was shookth when Aaron disclosed he's dating a guy (maybe the reason why he rejected Aaron was cuz he was being a coward). trent is like... his pride is wounded???? LOL anyway. long story short, trent makes a move on Aaron after Aaron realises Martin has been ghosting him, idk u can have them broken up or not, but like every jealousy cliche out there; Martin finally realises he wants to have it all with Aaron - that Aaron is serious, can be a forever (maaaybeeeeeeeeee triggered by deckai publicly announcing their engagement? lol) . it's up to you whether Aaron takes Martin back or not (yes, only trent AND REISS OMG I FORGOT ABOUT REISSSSS that can be in between martindale - and isak ofc but another time)

deckai:

I LOVE IT. NO NOTES. again it's weird if dec is bothered cuz he and Aaron's are teammates, but I guess martin's image will be tainted once he's slowly ghosting Aaron!

bennyliba:

is Wilo and everything that comes with him Ben's karma for being a little shit to Aaron and Dec

OF COURSE LMAOOOOOOOOO idk yet of their first meeting but you know!! make it a comedic relief pls lol

[skinnymeanfaggot]

a very quick summary of the current infiniteverse shit. its now werewolves and vampires as the primary story.

the galvezs are a prominent vampire colony and the williams are vampire hunters but also some of them are werewolves. benjamin williams kills zora galvezs mom so zora decides to take out the entire hunters guild but is so paranoid about it she hires anim, a vampire she turned, to kill off basically anyone in the bloodline. and javier is her brother but was never turned because he left the family and hes friends with joshua williams and doesnt want this all to happen. and harper williams is a creep.

anyways javier manages to make anim see that theyre being manipulated and gets them away from zora but zora finds and kills them. javier has a depressive spiral and sleeps with zoras ex/his werewolf friend emily and he accidentally knocks her up and she feels like she cant be trusted with her kid as a wolf who is bad at controlling her form so javier mainly takes care of kyra. and hes friends with joshua who had a surrogate to have tethys so they were friends as young children. but javiers also a slut and knocks up jamies mom at some point. when he finds out that zora killed anim he attacks her and she kills him. zora takes in kyra and is like yeah your dad fucked off lol. she kills joshua but lets tethys go because she doesnt wanna kill a child. tethys is taken in by emily who by this point has gotten her shit together but is unable to reach kyra because zora hates her.

so years later shits fairly normal. tethys and jamie meet at school and become friends. sam goes to the same school and joins. jamie is disowned by his family for being trans and moves in with tethys and emily. MEANWHILE zora has her weird silly little family with her wife juno, her daughter kylin, and her niece kyra. kylin loved anim like family and idolized them and zora reluctantly lets her hunt the vampire hunters in their place, but she eventually gets killed on the job. zoras been a shitty wife to juno so after their daughter dies juno leaves her and zora gets really depressed and starts being shitty to kyra.

this is where it gets fuzzier. i think car accident? idk, sams in a coma. kylin returned as a ghost but because she wasnt supposed to shes decaying fast so zora kidnaps sam and kylin takes him as a vessel. when sam wakes up theres now both him and kylin in the same body taking turns. hijinks insue. zora finds tethys again and is like yeah shes old enough to kill now. one night tethys sneaks out to find sam and jamie follows her after, tethys is kidnapped, kyra tries to help her escape but tethys is caught again and killed by kylin whos posessing sam. jamie sees this and fights sam and i forgot to mention jamie has werewolf blood and so hes shot by a silver bullet that fucks up his arm.

a year later tethys ghost comes back. jamie is Different. sam is coping poorly. kyra has taken on kylins/anims killing job. zora makes her kill emily because emilys working with juno whos running a group to stop zoras evil shit. kyra kills emily and it fucks tethys and jamie up really bad. emilys brother aaron comes to take them to the resistance base where they meet juno. plot to take down zora and stuff. blah blah kyra sacrifices herself saving tethys, but barely lives as we learn later. jamie ends up killing sam to get kylin out of his body. samlin throws tethys into a fire at some point during the fight.

the sequel was gonna be sam coming back as a ghost and joining the resistance group because zora is still alive, this time kyra also comes back and kills zora and she and kylin become the next big bads for some reason? and uhhh everyone dies at the end. none of the sequel shit is canon anymore because its bad

dont ask about the dogs. they are static noises right now

[artsysmadworld]

Operation Save Aaron pt. 9

The Finale

Content warning: violence, body horror, gore, blood, visible corpse, vomit

Continuing from this

Anna: How are you feeling, buddy?

Aaron: Like shit. God, it's unbearable.

Anna: Fuck. How did coffee get into you?

Aaron: I don't fucking know. He puked it in my mouth while we kissed.

Anna: God damn-If I see that motherfucker again, I will-

Aaron: Guh!

Anna: Aaron? Come on, just puke it out.

Aaron: I'm trying. I-

Aaron: Hiss. Disgusting.

Anna: Aaron? How are you feeling now?

Aaron: ...Better? Oh hey, I'm feeling good now!

Anna: Phew! What a relief! What a journey this night!

Aaron: I can't eveb recall anything that happened 5 minutes before. Ooh! We should tell-...Oh.

Anna: Yeah...sorry.

Aaron: It's... It's fine.

Anna: I miss her too.

Aaron: Well, we still have each other. Right?

Anna: Yeah. Forever and ever?

Aaron: Yes! Until the end of time.

Anna: You promise?

Aaron: Would you?

Anna: Aaron, you're my bestest friend. I love you.

Aaron: And you're the bestest friend I have. I love you too.

???: And I love you both.

Anna: Elise?

Aaron: Huh? Elise, is that you?

Elise: This is farewell, you two. This is where we part. But though it's the end of our story, it will be the start of your new ones. It has been a pleasure meeting you both.

Anna: Thank you, Elise. Thank you for being there with us.

Aaron: Goodbye, Elise. We will remember you even at our ends. History will remember us.

A group of ghosts appear behind her. Some are holding flags of varying colours. Elise waves goodbye at Aaron and Anna before she leaves with the other ghosts. As for the two best friends, they hop on their motor and take off.

The End

See you on the next adventure.

[anjaelle]

White Light IV

Characters: Ghost!ATJ x Black Female!Reader Rating: T (slight flirting, mention of horny thoughts, ghost!bf being a little obsessed with his crush, and the hint of impending tragedy to come) Word Count: 3.0K Summary: In which the reader makes a brief list of pros and cons for reviving the dead... a/n: Not 100% where I want it to be, but I already know where I want the story to go and where it will end. And that's a new thing for me, because I literally never finish anything . HA! Please like, comment, and reblog! Also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next updates.

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part V] | [☁ Masterpost ☁] | [♫ The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

--

You awoke to the sound of running water from your bathroom, and squinted to protect your eyes from the blinding sunlight. Your head was pounding like you'd been knocked out with a baseball bat. You moved to sit up, and your vision immediately began to double, causing you to slowly lie back down and roll over. Then you noticed the small bathroom wastebasket sitting beside your bed, just as bile rose in your chest and you vomited into it.

"Shit," you heard Aaron mutter behind you. The water cut off, and the quick thud of a cabinet closing seemed to rattle in your head.

"What happened?" You asked, hoarsely. As you rested your head on your hands, you could hear more busy rustling in the bathroom. "How? I can't--what's going on?"

It was like waking up in the middle of a dense fog, and you were unable to decipher which way was up. You didn't know what day it was, what time it was, how you ended up in this predicament. All you wanted to do was go back to sleep. Your eyes began to drift close again, when rapid footsteps crossed the room towards you.

"Hey, hey, hey, no. You gotta stay awake, c'mon." He crouched down beside you as the upper half of your body lie draped over the side of the bed. You couldn't remember how exactly you ended up in that position, but you couldn't be fucked to move.

"Too sleepy," you mumbled, sighing, "Give me 10 minutes."

"I can't."

He hesitated, and then you felt his arm wrap gently around your waist to prop you up in bed. You could feel how ice cold he was through the sweater he had on--your ex's sweater. You didn't remember bringing it. You should've probably given it back when you left. Or maybe you'd steal it for revenge and give it to Aaron.

Aaron.

"You can touch me? You can touch things?" you murmured, peeking at him through heavily lidded eyes, "How?"

You noticed that he was fidgeting with a damp cloth in a bowl with steaming hot water, and he shrugged.

"I really, really don't know what happened. One minute you were sweating in your sleep, the next you were up and staring at me...I don't know." A pause, then, "You seem a lot less surprised than I expected you to be."

On the inside you were screaming. You were beyond fucking confused. You wanted to call your grandmother and get some goddamn answers. But you were too weak to do anything but sigh.

"Why aren't you surprised?" You finally asked.

His hands stilled in the water and he sighed before continuing to wring out the cloth, "I was. I had my reaction while you were passed out. Um--it's--I guess I've just gotten used to it now."

You quirked an eyebrow at him as he pressed the hot cloth to your forehead. It was then that you realized how cold you were. The water was steaming hot, but still didn't feel hot enough. You shuddered under the warmth and shut your eyes.

"How long was I out?"

He said nothing and returned the rag back to the water.

"Aaron--"

"Three days."

You sat up straight in bed and stared at him with widened eyes. He no longer looked hazy and out of focus. He was here. Alive. Or, at least, the illusion of mortality. He looked at you with equally wide eyes and you could see the healing scars on his face and hands. He looked...older?

"Th-three?" You felt your hands shaking, and you shoved them into the blankets that you squeezed in your fists, "I could've been dead! Oh my god!"

"You weren't!" He responded, holding his hands up, "You woke up on and off, muttered some shit, and then went back to sleep."

"Why didn't you call someone?"

He shot her a look of confusion and motioned around her apartment, "You don't have a house phone. And I don't know how to use your mobile phone. What was I supposed to do? Scream out the window?"

"YES!" You responded, holding your head in disbelief, "What if I died, Aaron? Fucks sa--"

You leaned over and vomited into the trashcan again, though you couldn't begin to imagine what you were purging from your body. You couldn't have eaten anything. He cautiously pat your back as you retched uselessly into the trash and coughed your lungs out.

"That's also how I knew you weren't dead," he mumbled, passing you a bottle of water, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. You thanked him as you cleaned your mouth out. What did it all mean? What changed?

This started after he disappeared. What happened to him during that time? You briefly glanced at him as you spit water into the wastebasket, and you found him watching you intensely with a furrowed brow.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked before rinsing your mouth out again.

He worried his lower lip and looked you over.

"This is fucked."

You chuckled, "Yeah, no kidding."

When you were sure that your mouth was sufficiently clean, you sipped the last of the water. You already felt a little bit better, but you knew that this was just a sign of something more nefarious. He helped you sit back up, careful not to touch your skin, though you were hyperaware of how strong his hands felt on your waist. His fingers flexed against you as if he read your mind, and he offered you a small apologetic smile that you didn't expect.

"I've been careful not to get too close, since the last time seemed to have knocked you out good."

Oh...

You blinked at him as you tried to unscramble your thoughts.

"How do you feel?" You asked him with genuine curiosity. It couldn't have been exactly easy to go from dead to...whatever the hell this was. He seemed surprised by the question. You watched him work through his own thoughts.

"Cold." He simply stated with a small shrug. As he smoothed the thick comforter over your bare legs, absentmindedly, you felt your face heat up.

You hummed in thought, distracting yourself, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Neither. It's just a thing. Y'know? I went from feeling nothing, to feeling...cold. All over. Except when I sit next to you, mostly. You're kinda like a really hot furnace."

At this, you give him your best shit-eating grin and wiggled your brows, "A hot furnace huh?"

"Stop it." He crossed his arms over his chest, and you were mildly impressed by how good he looked in more modern clothes. He began to blush.

He definitely couldn't do that before.

"I-I just found this in your stuff," he explained nervously, "I'd never seen you wear it, so I figured you wouldn't care if I snagged it." He shoved his hands in the pockets of the gray sweatpants that also belonged to your ex and you schooled your features into complete nonchalance.

"You're fine," you said, "They were Marc--my ex's things. I don't think he'll miss them much."

You weren't 100% sure of that, but whatever. They weren't his anymore, anyway. You thought back on the running water from the bathroom, and noticed his wet hair and fresh face.

"Did...you shower?" You asked him, wide-eyed. Excited, he jumped up from the bed and motioned erratically.

"I didn't realize how much I fuckin' missed showering," he ran his fingers through his damp curls and let out a cheerful laugh in disbelief, "The water didn't feel like much of anything until I turned it to the highest setting. But god, did I miss it. I've been showering twice a day for the last 3 days!"

"Why are you not freaked out about this?" You asked. He stopped in his tracks and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

"As my dad once said, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'."

You rolled your eyes.

"You're dead, Aaron. You've been dead for 20 years. Now, out of the blue, you can touch things, and wear new clothes, and shower. And none of this is worrisome to you?"

It was then that he rushed to the bed and kneeled by your side, and you felt the goosebumps on your arms raise.

"I'm just as concerned as you--"

Doubtful.

"--but you don't understand how long it's been since I've been able to just do things for myself."

He grabbed your shoulders and you felt your body react through the thick fabric of your hoodie. Like you'd been splashed with cool water. You gasped and he removed his hands.

"Sorry. Got a bit carried away--"

"No, wait." You took a moment to sift through your thoughts again, and came to a certain conclusion. Maybe. You hesitated, and then reached out to touch his face, pressing a gentle hand to his left cheek. He shuddered, and you instantly began to feel tired. But you watched some of the color return to his face. His cheeks flushed red, and the blue in his eyes brightened as his pupils dilated.

"Oh." He whispered, leaning into your touch a bit more and shutting his eyes, "Fuck. That feels nice. So warm."

The gravely affect his voice took on was different from anything you'd ever heard from him before, and you squeezed your thighs together. His eyes landed on you again, and something flickered in his gaze. You felt your pulse quicken, and you could almost swear that you felt his heartbeat as well. His hand gently pressed over yours on his cheek, and then trailed down your wrist.

"This is different." He said, grinning at you with a newfound admiration you'd never seen.

You pulled your hand away from his face and you both shuddered with a small gasp. Energy returned to you in a slow trickle, though he still maintained some of the flush in his cheeks.

"I think," your voice cracked and your cleared your throat, "you might be like this because of me."

Aaron wanted to touch you again. Badly. The minute you found the strength to leave your bed, he trailed behind you like a faithful puppy. Admittedly, it was partially because you were still wobbly on your feet and he wanted to catch you if you passed out again. A bigger part of him wanted to grab you by your hips and pull you towards him. His eyes trailed down the curve of your lower back and ass as you searched though your closet for an old notebook that belonged to your grandmother. You muttered something about "witchy bullshit" and he couldn't help but laugh at the exasperation in your tone.

Though he probably should've cared more about the how and why of their current predicament, he couldn't give any less of a shit. He knew what it felt like to grab your waist and touch your skin, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. The way you not-so-casually brushed against him as you passed didn't make matters easier.

Aaron hadn't realized that he'd been watching you with the dopiest smile on his face until you turned with the notebook in hand and smiled back, confused.

"What?" You asked, scrunching up your nose at him.

Fuck, you were cute. And he had an undeniable crush. He wanted to hit himself in the face.

"Nothing," he lied. He nodded towards the book in your hand, "That it?"

You eyed him curiously. Whatever thought you had in that gorgeous head of yours was apparently not important enough to vocalize, as you shook your head to clear it.

"It is. My grandmother gave it to me when I last saw her, and I never even bothered to crack it open. Which was probably stupid of me." She called it a grimoire and mentioned that it was well over 100 years old. The leatherbound, thick book carried loose, yellowed pages and photos. Dried leaves and herbs seemed to poke out from every which way, and Aaron wondered how your family managed to keep it intact.

"Soooo you think you'll find out what's making me all zombie-like through that?" It's not that he didn't believe it, it's just that he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer. Going back to feeling the way he did before felt like a non-option now.

"Zombie-like?" You giggled and it sounded like a bell.

"Y'know," he stood over your shoulder, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around you, "not-quite-alive, not-quite-dead."

As you slowly flipped through the thin pages of the book, scanning the looping cursive for familiar words, you snorted. "If that's how you want to classify yourself, go for it."

At this, he leaned closer and whispered in your ear, "How would you classify me?"

He heard your breath hitch and your hand faltered over the next page.

"I don't know," you said, softly, turning your head to him. It was so close that your lips just barely brushed his cheek. "You feel very much alive, to me." You lingered there for a beat longer, before returning your attention to the next page. Warmth fluttered in his stomach and he felt like he was going to throw up. If his mates could see him now, he'd never hear the end of it.

He should've taken a step back to regain his composure, and he was just about to when you suddenly pointed to a string of words halfway down the page.

"Here," you said, tilting the book up so he could read it, "'Transformation of the Incorporeal and Corporeal Forms: Parasitism and Symbiosis'."

He hadn't a clue what the hell any of that meant. One look at his face told you all you needed to know, apparently, as you broke down the rules like he was ten. Which he appreciated.

"I don't know what happened to you while you were gone, but something changed. Something made you more..." she motioned with her hand, "adaptable? The first time you touched me was when you nearly gave me a heart attack that first time. And that was the first time I saw you. So the more you interact with me, the more tangible you become." You flipped through the pages eagerly, reading as fast as you could as he hung onto your every word.

"But the first time you touched me wasn't as intense as this time. And you weren't able to continue doing it for so long after the first time. So something is different now. But what?"

He felt the familiar tingle in his left hand from the very first time he touched you, and he flexed his fingers.

"It was purgatory."

At this, you paused your reading and immediately turned to look at him with a look of pure horror on your face. Suddenly he wished he'd just shut his mouth.

"Purgatory? I--how?" As you turned to face him, you hugged the book protectively to your chest, but inched closer to him in concern, "That's not fucking good. Not good at all. You can't just come back from there. That's impossible."

He motioned to himself and shrugged, "I did."

You mumbled something to yourself and rapidly began flipping through the pages again, looking for something specific. He wanted you to stop and look at him. Just to explain what he was missing, as you seemed to know far more than you let on. Your eyes scanned the pages in your hands, and your jaw dropped.

"The darkness..." you whispered, "The thing with many teeth. Did you see this?"

You flipped the book to face him, and pointed at the crude illustration of the grinning thing that haunted him for several nights. Even with smeared ink and scribbles around the image, he shied away from its gaze, avoiding eye contact.

"Ugh. Yeah. That thing. It wouldn't leave me alone. I still feel it watching me sometimes."

You immediately slammed the book closed and rushed out of the room, headed for the front door as he trailed behind you. "Wait, wait, hold on!"

"I've gotta speak to the elders! This is way out of my hands."

As you crossed the threshold into the main hallway, he instinctively grabbed your hand and you both gasped. He felt like he was on fire, and you felt like you'd been thrown into a freezer. Still he couldn't let go of you. The iciness and the blazing heat turned into a low buzzing sensation. Even when he eventually released his grip on your hand, he still felt the vibrations crawling up his arm from where he touched you.

It was then that you both noticed that he was standing beside you in the middle of the apartment building's hallway, with the front door of your apartment wide open.

"Did you pull me outside?" He asked, partially impressed and also terrified. You swallowed hard and shook your head.

"It wasn't me, it was this." You motioned between them, speaking in hushed tones to avoid detection from the neighbors. Then you swiftly turned on your heels and rushed down the hall to call for the elevator. He felt a strange pull emanating from you. And though he wanted to go back into the apartment, he blinked and found himself standing right beside you again.

"This? What's this? What are you talking about?" He was beginning to panic from the lack of information you were sharing with him. You fidgeted with your fingers, and he pleaded with you, "Please tell me."

You shot him a look of pure sadness just as the elevator doors opened to you, "The reason you're like this--the reason why you have a steady form and why you can touch me? I was hoping this was symbiosis but it's not. You're haunting me, and it's parasitic."

He followed you into the elevator as the doors closed, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

"What does that mean for you?" He murmured. You avoided his eyes and he knew right away what it meant.

"It means that you're slowly killing me."