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writella · 10 months

Note

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #wonders with writella #wonderings with daryl #💌 ask answered 💌

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candyk0rn · 9 months

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hi hi hi!! i just read your bg3 headcannons and the way you write astarion and gale is so on brand!! i love the way you write! its a follow for me :> my older sister is the one who is into bg3 (i only know basically everything due to her rambles LMAO) and i read them out loud with her listening while she did her laundry and she loved them sm! thanks for being the source of my sister's serotonin

i also saw that your requests are open, and my older sister would like to make a request :)) she was wondering if you could write wedding planning/wedding ceremony headcannons for the characters?! She was so sad she didn't get to see any wedding related scenes with Gale after the game events ;-;

Wedding preparations-BG3

I’m literally going to cry that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me 😭 I’m so happy your sister and yourself like my writing so much, it gives me so so so much joy that you both enjoy it. Also I agree, Larian Studios should add a wedding dlc or something 🙏🏻 (Also since you weren’t exactly specific, I’ll do Astarion and Gale because it sounds like those are your favs!!)

Before reading: Fluff, gn reader, Astarion x reader, Gale x reader

Astarion:

After his journey with you and the other companions, he’s sure that he wants to spend eternity with you

He’s never thought of romance, he wasn’t able to when he was a slave to Cazador

But now that he’s free, and now that he’s with you, he’s sure that he shall never love again if he loses you

You’re the one who has to actually bring up the thought of marriage,

He knows he will forever stay with you wether you marry or not

He lets you do all of the planning, as long as he gets to pick the guests

He doesn’t want anything too extravagant, shockingly

Just you, your eternal bond, and your closest companions

That’s all he really wants for a ceremony

He doesn’t ask for much, because he’s never put any thought on marriage or anything like that

He asks you if it’s alright to take your surname, for he wishes to part with his old life and start anew with you at his side

Planning is easy with him around, but expect him to jokingly complain here and there lol

Gale:

Bro has never been more sure of anything in his life

He wanted to marry you the moment he laid his eyes on you

After your long, dangerous journey rehearsing the Absolute, he makes it his mission to propose to you

He just wants to take you back to Waterdeep, have you meet his mother, and finally settle down

He’s been through so much, a comfortable life with you would have him die a happy man

When it comes to the actual planning, he would like to keep everything equal

As long as you agree with everything, he’s happy. (and vice versa)

Like Astarion, he doesn’t want anything over the top or extremely fancy

A simple, fun wedding with the traditional dancing and close friends and family is all he really wants in a ceremony like this one

Also you cannot convince me he doesn’t bring Tara (his cat) to the wedding omg

He just wants to make this day special for the both of you

It’s a day he shall never forget, after all

Thanks for reading!

#x reader #fanfic #fyp #candyk0rn #Baldurs Gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 Gale #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #gale x reader #baldurs gate gale #fluff

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blackbird-brewster · 2 months

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Meta: Jemily Queerbaiting

With the huge influx of posts saying 'Jemily is gonna be canon', I really appreciated seeing this post because OP was completely correct. I didn't want to write an entire dissertation as a reply, so I'm making my own post with my personal opinion on this. (All sources are noted in footnotes)

Before I began this rant, for anyone who thinks this is anti-Jemily. It is not. I have shipped Jemily for 18 friggin years and that's never going to change. This post is specifically my thoughts about queer baiting.

First off, I need to note that the showrunners (and the cast members who use social media) KNOW what a huge queer following this show has and that's why we got pansexual Tara Lewis in S16 [1]. Which, in itself, was SOOOOOOO important!!! Our first canonically queer main in SIXTEEN seasons was a middle-aged Black woman!!! That's phenomenal. (The fact it was horrible rep, because they instantly ruined her relationships once her queerness served it's plot point is a whole other post entirely)

In my opinion, the 'big Jemily moment' Paget posted about on Twitter [2] (and AJ hinted at during a recent IG live) is simply queerbaiting to get people to watch S17. I know a lot of you are newer to the fandom and I love your enthusiasm, I really do, ship and let ship, but listen, let's be real, Jemily is not going to be made canon. The showrunners aren't going to suddenly say (after 17 seasons) 'Surprise, Jemily is endgame'. This show has never cared about queer rep and now that CBS/Paramount have already ticked their queer rep box with Tara, they won't be in any rush to add any other characters to it.

Please buckle in, I've got a lot of thoughts on this matter --

What is Queerbaiting?

If you aren't aware of what queerbaiting is, here's a good definition:

Historically, queerbaiting has carried two meanings: the first is an act of aggressive heterosexuality to shut down queer subtext on screen while still teasing and catering to the queer audience in advertising, public relations, and fan engagement strategies; the second is an existing homoerotic tension between two characters played up on screen while met with derision by the professionals behind the scenes. [3]

The Medium article quoted here is from 2017, a time when parasocial relationships were really starting to take over social media. In 2024, actors are now only a mention or tag away online, they have direct conversations with fans, and this process has allowed for an even deeper form of queerbaiting.

Oftentimes online, actors are asked directly about certain ships and while some ignore these questions (usually to avoid breaking their contracts or other repercussions), others (looking at you, Paget) choose to instead tease fans about queer ships. She's done this for years upon years and if I've learned anything in the past twenty-years of existing in fandom spaces it's this -- don't hold your breath. In it's original meaning, for something to be deemed as queerbaiting there had to be malicious, or at least, purposeful intent to string queer fans along by teasing them with suggestive content about the ship in question, while knowing this ship will never come to fruition in canon.

The thing to remember is, Paget and AJ aren't the only ones who know about Jemily shippers -- the network and showrunners are well aware of this ship too. When networks/showrunners figure out they have a strong sapphic fanbase, they love to use that to their advantage to get more viewers and higher ratings. Queerbaiting is a goldmine to keep fans watching long running shows, look at Rizzoli and Isles, Supergirl, and OUAT for examples of this.

Jemily and Queerbaiting:

Ever since Emily joined the BAU in S2 (2006), there have always been fans who ship JJ/Emily (shoutout to the old LJ forums!). Way before celebs were just a tweet away from fans, back when all our fics began with disclaimers so we wouldn't get sued by networks, we went to great lengths to keep our fanworks far removed from actors/showrunners attention.

As far as Jemily goes, this reply from Paget in a 2009 interview with TVGuide.com [4] (which has now been deleted from their site unfortunately, but there are quotes on Tumblr still [4.a]) confirmed some fans' worst fear -- the actors had found our fanworks online.

TVGuide.com: Of course, a band of fans want her to hook up with Hotch.

Brewster: I know! I didn't realize that fans make these videos on YouTube? A.J. Cook sent me a hilarious one that made it look like Prentiss and J.J. were having a secret lesbian affair. You know, when Hotch was blown up in the SUV, we shot this scene where he's in the hospital and I'm standing next to him, looking at his bleeding ear. Our director came in and said, "Paget, you're looking at Hotch like you're in love with him. It looks really weird." So now, every day, Thomas [Gibson] and I flutter our eyelids at each other.

This was the first time I recall anyone acknowledging Jemily shippers publicly and at the time (Jan 2009), the show was still in Season Four (just before CBS fired both AJ and Paget [5]). Paget genuinely said it's 'hilarious' that fans shipped JJ/Emily. Even now, I'll see people say 'We know Paget and AJ have seen Jemily fanvids, so they obviously ship it too' -- but those same people rarely acknowledge the full context of the original answer. Paget not only thought JJ/Emily were 'hilarious', but then she doubled down and turned her reply back to how she and Thomas liked to play up the chemistry between Emily/Hotch.

While no one can say for sure which video it was that AJ sent Paget, just knowing they were watching JJ/Emily fanvids sent a bit of a shockwave through the femslash side of the fandom. To some it felt like an invasion of privacy, fanworks are by fans for fans -- knowing the cast were poking around in fandom spaces added an extra layer of worry around what we fans were posting online. Fifteen years ago, it used to be quite taboo for actors to outwardly discuss shipping or other fanon for whatever show they were in, and we fans were usually comfortably removed from the actors altogether.

Of course, now it's the norm for fans and actors/showrunners to co-exist online and interact with one another. This connection has opened new ways for shows to queerbait their fans. Pretty much every show has some form of social media account now and there is no doubt that the people running those accounts keep up with the most popular ships and hashtags. Not to mention that actors are constantly barraged with questions about whether they ship their character with x,y,z, or whether they think a ship should be made canon, etc. These interactions only serve to benefit the shows themselves, because whether the conversation is for or against a certain ship, it's all just free publicity (Why do you think CM now has a TikTok account?)

Every time AJ or Paget say anything about Jemily, the queer side of the fandom loses their minds. But this has been going on for YEARS now and every single time, it turns out to be nothing but social media hype and queerbaiting. Remember this AJ post? [6] Or what about the notorious reply by Paget to a fan, where she talks about how she and AJ held hands under the table 'for the shippers' [7] I've seen this cycle over and over again, so perhaps I am cynical, but I'm not getting my hopes up that Jemily will ever seriously be canon.

It's widely known now, after both Kirsten [8] and Paget [9] have talked about it, that there was an early idea where Prentiss was supposed to be queer, but that was ultimately scraped before it ever made it on screen. For context, please remember, this show has been airing for nearly twenty years. It began in 2005, during the highly conservative Bush administration. Queer people didn't have rights in the US, we couldn't get married, we were rarely protected under discrimination laws, and we could even be fired for simply being queer (in some states). Diverse queer representation on screen was extremely limited to things like 'The L Word' and 'Queer as Folk' (both aired on Showtime, so they were behind a paywall. And as far as tLw goes, that show was extremely male-gaze focused and is horrible in nearly all regards if you try to rewatch it now). As far as prime time shows went, queer rep was even more rare. Which is why Emily wasn't queer from the get-go.

Yes, things have changed since 2006 in terms of queer rep on TV. We have a myriad of queer identities represented in TV and film nowadays, which is why I think it's so easy for newer fans to say 'lf she was supposed to be gay anyway, they should just make Emily queer in canon!' I know this is what fuels most fans' demands for Emily being confirmed queer, and I get it, I DO. I would be all for it! However, I do not, in one hundred years, actually believe that is going to happen after they already canonically queer confirmed Tara in S16. The fact we even got ONE queer character is ground-breaking for this show.

It's also worth noting, that in the time between Paget's departure in 2012 and her return in 2016, she became very active on Twitter. This was when more and more fans began asking her about Jemily and after Kirsten's AfterEllen interview, fans also pushed for Paget to address the possibility of Emily being gay. 'Pushed' is actually an understatement for some of the outright harassment she would receive. (AJ received some of this harassment too, but less so because she doesn't use social media ass often) Back then, neither of them replied to these things directly. Yet, no matter what either woman posted, the replies were full of Jemily stans begging for her acknowledgement. (Did you know 'stan' is literally a term coined for stalker fans?) I remember one time AJ's friend was missing and she posted info on her IG about it, you know what the replies were? People asking her about Jemily. It was genuinely sickening.

Within this context, it was no surprise to fans when Emily came back in S12 , she and JJ's friendship was seemingly erased. The two women were rarely on screen together in the late seasons, plus the writers saw fit to even give Emily not only one (Mark in London, but two, on-screen boyfriends for the first time in the entire series. I personally do not think these changes to Emily's character were coincidence, I saw the hellscape of what people would say to AJ and Paget online and I fully believe that upon Paget's return to the show, the showrunners purposely tried to distance JJ and Emily to dissuade the more abusive side of the fanbase.

Can I prove that, no. But it is the only reason I can think of as to why Emily S12+ seemingly didn't care about JJ anymore, despite their deep and meaningful friendship. I mean, they both CROSSED THE WORLD to go rescue each other in prior canon -- but when Emily comes back, they acted like they barely knew each other. This was even more prevalent in S16, when JJ's main storylines all revolved around Will, and Emily barely looked at JJ in the entirety of ten episodes. (Remember how Prentiss didn't even hug JJ after bomb, but she did go hug Luke?)

So, do Paget and AJ earnestly ship Jemily, or are they continuing the long tradition of queerbaiting us? Who fucking knows, not me. But based on the history of this fandom, I think I can make a safe bet. (Interestingly, if you search all of Paget's twitter for the word 'Jemily' [10] she only has 3 direct tweets mentioning the ship. I don't think it's a coincidence that two are within the past few months since they started filming S17 (the other one was a RT of Kirsten (who tagged something Jemily)

This is all to say --

Just because Paget and AJ have publicly talked about Jemily,, this doesn't mean it's ever going to happen on screen. And you know what, THAT'S OKAY!! There has been this constant outcry (after Tara became queer confirmed) of 'Do Emily next' or 'Why wasn't it Emily with a girlfriend!?' and 'Jemily needs to be canon in S17!' -- as if people believe their ships aren't worth anything unless they are canon.

That couldn't be further from the truth! Fandom is built on headcanons and fan interpretations and rare pairs and all types of shippers. Your ship does NOT need to be canon for you to enjoy it. I will ship Jemily forever, no matter what. I don't think there will be some magical queer plot in S17, at best, we might actually get to see Emily/JJ on screen together again and after the train wreck that was S16 -- I'll take whatever I can get.

And hey -- if I am completely wrong, if Erica Messer pulls a Korrasami out of her hat, I will be ecstatic. I will be happy to be proved wrong, but at the same time, I'm not going to lose sleep over it and I'm DEFINITELY not going to go hound the actors about it on social media.

Sources:

[1] 2022 Digital Spy article about the importance of Tara's coming out

[2] 04/18/24 Paget Tweet

[3] 2017 Queerbaiting article from medium.com

[4] 2009 Broken TVGuide link

[4.a] Tumblr quote from the above TVGuide Interview

[5] 2010 Kirsten interview screenrant.com

[6] 2019 AJ Instagram Post

[7] 2020 Paget video on Twitter (via @karasluthqr)

[8] 2015 Kirsten interview AfterEllen.com

[9] 2016 Paget Interview CriminalMindsFans.com

[10] @PagetPaget search 'Jemily'

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #paget brewster #aj cook #cm commentary #queerbaiting #cm meta #criminal minds evolution #cm evolution #my writing #long post

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radiant-reid · 2 years

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Hi cate, i rlly love your writing. I was wondering if you could di a blurb in virgin!reader relentlessly teasing Spence about how he probably isn’t even that good at sex and is probably small and he proves her wrong pls pls pls its been on my mind for so long😵‍💫

THIS !! but it's him ^^ because his short fuse is 10/10 also i didn't write this as virgin reader, because i wanted it to be rough, I hope that's okay <3

By the time truth or dare is being played, you're drunk, with enough shots and cocktails in your system that you're bold enough to say just about anything.

You're standing around a high table, holding the bench to avoid swaying too much, when Luke suggests truth or dare. Tara jumps in on it, and before anyone can stop to think about consequences or too much personal information being shared about co-workers, all of you are playing.

"Spencer, truth or dare?" Luke asks him, a few rounds in.

"Truth." He takes the seemingly easier option.

"What's your body count?" He asks with a grin, mostly because it earns a giggle from Penelope.

Spencer frowns. "Like people I've killed?" He clarifies.

"People you've slept with." JJ corrects after all of you laugh.

"Oh, like five. Wait, six." He counts, less concentrated after some whiskey.

You snort loudly, only aware you have a varying opinion from everyone else when all eyes are on you. "What? Do you guys seriously think he's had sex with more than one person?" You stare at him, profiling him. "Maybe two, tops."

"Damn, kid," Rossi speaks first, everyone else too gobsmacked to say anything. "You don't pull any punches."

Luke hoots with laughter. "She's calling you out, man."

When you brave a glance at Spencer, he doesn't look embarrassed. He just looks pissed, jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed, and you're not going to deny it, but it's attractive.

You're determined to push him further. "It's probably small too." You add, holding up your hands two inches apart.

That only increases the volume of everyone howling with laughter, and it gives Spencer the chance to lean down and whisper in your ear. "Second door on the left of the right hallway, five minutes." He says abruptly, voice lower than usual.

You're too stunned to say anything, and something about how magnetic he is attracts you to go. So in four minutes, you're excusing yourself to the bathroom.

He's already in the bedroom when you get there, arms crossed over his chest. Clearly, his anger didn't dissipate.

"Hey, Spence." You greet him casually, closing the door behind you. "Bring me in here to prove to me that it's tiny?"

"Shut up." He tells you, stepping closer until your toes are almost touching. "Just shut the fuck up."

The next words out of your mouth surprise you more than they surprise him. He is a profiler, after all. "Make me." You say.

His lips are so close to you that it takes a millisecond for him to be kissing you, practically shoving his tongue down your throat. His hands are all over your face, pulling you closer to him with his large fingers wrapped around the base of your neck. It's sloppy and wet, and really fucking hot.

It's a flurry to get your clothes off, both of you pulling apart after a long, passionate kiss, your thoughts tracking to the same place. They lay discarded on the floor as he pushes you onto the mattress, wasting no time getting inside you.

"Fuck, you must have watched some porn because you know what you're doing." You tease, made a little bit more difficult with his deep thrusts.

He growls against your neck. "Real-life experience, sweetheart." He whispers before biting at your skin.

"Don't- fuck- believe you." You retort.

"Can't even argue with me without moaning, huh?" Spencer asks before tutting, "pathetic." You wiggle closer, rolling your hits with him. "Like right now, I can tell you need more."

You scoff, but it's more of a moan. "Are you going to give it to me then?"

Spencer picks your thighs up, wrapping them over his shoulder and thrusting even deeper inside of you. "God, if I knew it would be this easy to shut you up, I would have done this a long time ago."

"You just never had the balls." You tell him.

"Got them now, don't I?" He reminds you, slamming into you. You can feel yourself getting closer, and he knows it too by your clenching around him. "Want to cum?" He offers.

You nod frantically. "Please." You babble. It's desperate, but when he fucks you so well, you can't help it.

"Tell me it's big." He demands.

"Fuck, Spencer, it's big. I'm sorry, it's so big, and you're really good at this." You say quickly, not wanting him to move the goalpost on your orgasm.

His fingers quickly circle your clit, and you're coming in no time, triggering his release on your stomach when he pulls out.

"So?" He asks once he's flopped down on the bed next to you. "Was it actually okay?"

"Phenomenal." You assure him, dragging your finger through his cum on your skin. "I'm eating my words."

He chuckles at your idiom. "You're cute, you know?" He tells you sincerely and affectionately. "I can make you eat more of your words if you like."

You nod. "I would like that."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut

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dreamcaught · 7 months

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There have been so many of these posts, and what looks like an entire website pretty much dedicated to this topic, but nevertheless here I am adding to the mix.

Thoughts on Buffy Season 6, Sex and Seeing Red

This is long and only kind of edited. Content warning below.

CW: Discussions of abuse, addiction, and rape.

Let me just start out by saying: Spike is my favourite character in Buffy. I love him completely. He is contrary and interesting and if there is anything I would do to improve the show it would be to add more scenes with Spike. But, unlike a lot of Spike girlies – and especially many of my favourite fanon creators – I don’t think Spike is out-of-character in Seeing Red. There are some serious problems with it, but I think it’s an important scene.

My reason for saying this comes from the claim that Buffy and Willow are the main villains this season. Well, no, to be fair: in season 6, the main villains of the show are the internal villains within the characters, specifically Buffy and Willow, expressed through their actions of addiction and abuse. The Trio is a red herring Big Bad; they’re pretty much just there to provide laughs and move plot. They’re not like the Master, or Angelus, or Adam, or Glory – there isn’t ever a “gather the troops, we’ve got an apocalypse on our hands” attitude toward defeating them… because they’re just human people, making human mistakes and causing human havoc. (Much like how Buffy and Willow would be if they weren’t already saturated in the supernatural.)

Buffy and Willow’s stories run parallel in this season. They are both dealing with the aftermath of Buffy’s resurrection: Buffy is majorly depressed to the point that she feels essentially soulless, whereas Willow is guilty to such degree that the only way she knows how to cope with herself is through control and the overuse of magic.

Tangent about Sex Because That’s How I Roll:

Before we go further to discuss this, just, briefly, let’s take note that this show does not do justice to sex. In both cases, Buffy and Willow’s “addiction” is to, essentially, use sex like a drug to (sort of) feel, but more accurately numb themselves. Buffy’s use of Spike is blatant, but we must remember that Willow and Tara’s first prominent romantic/sexual connections were initially all linked to their use of magic.

It’s made clear that this idea of magic = sex between the two is continued even in season 6, as exemplified in the Once More with Feeling song Under Your Spell lines: “You make me complete,” which are cut off at the most deliciously appropriate time – and if you haven’t noticed that until I’ve pointed it out here, then well done, you!

Here there is a bit of a problem I have with the show’s messaging because it’s essentially saying that sex is bad. Tara asks Willow to stop using magic (yikes, imagine asking your lover to please stop sexing so much, babe, it’s bad for you) – and at the same time, in the parallel story, Buffy feels the need to hide her sexual tryst with Spike because it’s wrong to want to feel good.

I think it’s important to note that Buffy isn’t really upset about it being Spike, specifically. She makes a big deal of saying that he’s “everything she’s supposed to hate” and “soulless” and “evil,” but Buffy had every opportunity to have this affair with literally anyone else – in fact, she could have very easily gotten her rocks off with a different, random person every night, but chooses to use Spike. And here we can move back to the main points –

Miscommunication

Buffy and Spike’s relationship is abusive, but hardly for the reasons they make it appear on the show. At this point, Spike is a soulless demon. That he doesn’t just kill her as soon as he realizes that he can hurt her is a testament to how much he loves her, despite this. But, because he is a soulless demon, he does try to take advantage of Buffy’s attention to him by trying to convince her that she should be with him. He plays on her fears of being soulless/evil/demonic. Other than trying to persuade her to stay with him, this is the full extent of Spike’s abuse of Buffy.

At no point in their physical relationship does Spike ever abuse Buffy’s consent.

Between Spike and Buffy is a travesty of miscommunication. Need I say again: Spike is a soulless demon. From the moment he realizes his feelings toward Buffy, he is constantly trying to figure out what she needs from him, because he simply does not understand. (“What’s it take?”) He actively tries to learn what Buffy wants and how to respond to her desires. From their passionate kiss in Once More with Feeling: “The day you suss out what you do want, there'll probably be a parade,” to literally his last lines of the show, “No, you don’t,” Buffy and Spike’s communication is the worst!

And this is all Buffy’s fault, by the way! She absolutely, stubbornly, resolutely refuses to talk – to most people! It’s practically a miracle that Spike understands Buffy at all – and to that end, I truly, fully, completely believe that Spike is the best partner for Buffy, simply because he’s the only one who does.

Their first time together, Buffy is verbally telling him it’s never going to happen while at the same time ripping off his clothes. At nearly every encounter between them during their affair, Buffy says it will never happen again, it will be the last time, it was the worst thing ever. These are outright lies, and Spike learns through conditioning to see right through them. When she says “Stop,” he doesn’t have to stop – because that is not what she means. He learns through the complicated, complex, contrary Buffy Talk what she actually wants and then proceeds to give it to her.

Up to Seeing Red, Buffy’s consent has always sounded like: “No.”

Buffy the Villain

Buffy has chosen Spike as her lover because he already loves her. He is emotionally invested in their relationship. He takes care of her. (“I can get money.”) She can be herself with him. (“I can be alone with you here.”) She is safe with him. (“Dawn is safe with Spike, so I can stay as long as you need.”)

During their affair, Buffy takes everything that she’s feeling about herself out on Spike. She calls him soulless, she calls him nothing, she says he’s empty; she beats him up, she kicks him out, she refuses his affection and forces him to hide his own. Spike takes it because he is loyal and in love with her, and this is the extent that Buffy abuses him. She conditions him to think that she can’t love him, she conditions him to think that saying “No” means “Yes,” she conditions him to think that her abuse of him is kinky and will lead to sex.

Buffy’s goal is only to feel something. She wants Spike to take advantage because it makes things a lot easier for her to deal with. If she says “No,” that means that she’s tried to stop him, despite it not being what she really wants or expects of him.

Because of this abuse, in a very real way, Buffy is the one who destroys the safety that Spike represented. Her abuse of him corrodes their trust, but she doesn’t know that. Buffy, despite denying it or acknowledging it, still believes in Spike’s loyalty. And not only that – by this point, Buffy has fallen in love with him. The bathroom scene in Seeing Red happens, in part, because she’s pushed Spike too far – and she’s not ready to admit to anything, because she refuses to acknowledge that she was an abuser.

The events of Seeing Red are the culmination of Buffy’s actions with the complete absence of honest communication. It is because she tells Spike to move on that he sleeps with Anya. It is because she expected his loyalty that Dawn talks to Spike. It’s because she trained Spike to do the opposite of what she says that he tries to connect with her physically to make her happy.

It is because she refuses to acknowledge not only her abuse of him, but also her love for him, that he chooses to show her instead. Because Buffy doesn’t talk – she only acts, and that’s what Spike tries to do, in the way that she taught him – from the start of their affair to the explicit events in Gone, all the way to this scene, Buffy has told Spike that sex is how to get close to her.

The Bathroom Scene

A lot of people have been traumatized by this scene. It is very difficult to watch, since we’ve got these two beautifully complicated people trying so hard to communicate and failing so badly at it. Buffy, finally, is saying what she means, but Spike can’t hear it. Spike is, as he’s been taught to do, servicing her to show her his devotion. These two people are in love with each other but are deeply hurt. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Buffy is hurt by Spike’s actions while he’s hurt by her words, since these are the languages they understand.

If done well, this scene could have been healing. They could have finally come together in grief of their broken relationship and tried to fix it to something healthier. But instead, they were using the scene to push Spike into getting a soul, so he had to go too far, and she had to say too much.

I don’t think that Spike is out of character. I think that both Spike and Buffy act exactly within their character consistencies. Spike would totally seek Buffy out if he thought she was hurting – especially if he had any hope at all that he was the cause of her hurt. Buffy would completely deny, deny, deny any emotional attachment to Spike and take no responsibility for having hurt him. She’s still stuck, here, projecting her own numbness onto Spike with the false idea that he can’t love because he’s soulless.

Because of the constant, completely screwed up ideologies within this show about sex (that sex is bad, that too much sex is bad, that kinky sex is wrong, etc.) and because of the cumulative events that arise from their abusive sex=closeness relationship, the only way they could think of to make it even worse was to escalate to rape.

I know why they did it, because it makes sense within the story of their physical affair. It’s The Worst Thing you can do to someone else. We have to remember that Buffy doesn’t care about being killed, because she sort of wants to die. Also, Spike would never want to kill her. The only other thing he might want to do is turn her, but, to Buffy, that’s the same thing as being killed. Since her belief is that a demon takes over the human host, she might even welcome being turned as much as she would welcome death.

But importantly: there is the significant and completely intentional reverse of their villainousness actions here. In this scene, Buffy can’t be the villain anymore. It doesn’t matter how much she’s abused Spike, it doesn’t matter that their relationship was murky and confusing. Because it is rape, the only villain is the person committing the act of rape.

Spike must be made the villain here because anything else is victim blaming. It was the only action the writers could take to give the title of villain back to Spike away from Buffy. Spike has to end this season being the Big Bad because he must absorb all the hurt, the pain and the soullessness that was entangled with Buffy and incorporate it into himself (“You think I like having you in here? Destroying everything that was me, until all that's left is you, in a dead shell. You say you hate it, but you won't leave.”)

He takes Buffy’s pain and heals them both by – after these events – getting his soul.

The Problem

The writing staff knew their characters (for the most part). They knew that Spike was soulless and needed something drastic to instigate his search of a soul. Hurting Buffy this way did make the most sense in the framework of their affair and in the framework of making sex akin to drugs. But attempted rape was too, too far for the viewers. Talking about sex is already difficult for society, especially at the time this show was made. Talking about and explicitly showing attempted rape caused trauma to viewers and made a lot of people turn away from the otherwise very beautifully complicated relationship between Buffy and Spike.

People against Spuffy use this scene as the ultimate fodder against Spike, but doing so is disrespectful to the story, the lore and the characters. Spike loved Buffy enough soulless, but she was only strong enough to accept that once he went out and got one. In addition to that – Buffy forgives Spike for what he did that day. She admits to her side of the abuse, acknowledges that what they had was real, and doesn’t blame Spike for his actions. This conversation exists in bits-and-pieces in the Buffy comics – it would have been incredible to see it on screen in season 7, but I guess by that point the writers didn’t want to bring it up again and had way too many other things to deal with (which is another topic altogether).

I like the bathroom scene in Seeing Red. I think it’s horrible, and raw, and terribly authentic. The portrayal of hurt and betrayal by both actors is one of the strongest scenes in the show. I do wish, though, that they hadn’t taken it quite so far.

My Problem

Season 6 of Buffy is my favourite season. It is powerful and painful. But, if I could change it, I would have changed the messaging that sex is bad, because it isn’t, and both Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara deserved something better.

#btvs #btvs meta #long post #spuffy #sex in btvs #seeing red

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harpscity · 30 days

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Imogen Heaney Headcanons 🎵🍂

I love her SO MUCH oh my god.

I have so many ideas for her (some that probably don't make sense unless you listen to my hour-long explanations on them), but here are some in particular that have been on my mind lately.

1: AUTISTIC. IMOGEN. Imogen is autistic and deals with sensory issues a lot, especially auditory. Since she feels so out of place most of the time, she likes when she can control what's around her- making lists, keeping her room organized (almost concerningly at times- something Charlie notices when he goes over to Imogen's for the first time because Charlie himself is so used to feeling the need to control whatever physical aspects of his life/himself he can), having soft, warm lights and her favorite stuffed animals everywhere, as well as posters, fidgets and comfort objects, ect. However, as she gets older people in her and Nick's 'popular' friend group begin to make fun of her for her autism more and more- causing her to change her room quite a bit. When Ben came over for the first time after they got together, the first thing he did was point out how 'babyish' her rainbow lava lamp was- she got rid of it two days later, even though it was one of the few things left in her room at that point that made her feel like herself.

She also does her best to fit in with the popular girls, masking her autism pretty heavily and well- most of the time. There are some slips and cracks that leave her confused when she can't understand the looks people give her, why she can't seem to stop saying the 'wrong' thing no matter how hard she tries. (See: The canteen scene in S1 EP4. She doesn't get why Tara and Darcy are upset- she'd just said the 'right' thing, hadn't she? And in her mind, she liked Nick, he liked her... at least, that's what seemed right. It's what everyone told her, and she was so scared at the thought of what would happen if she disagreed that she forced herself to believe it.) Most of the time when she gets home from a night out with the popular girls, she's overstimulated and miserable- she lets herself have a good cry for a few minutes in her closet, hugging the stuffed bear Sahar gave her when she was little (Imogen refused to get rid of it but hid it deep in her closet). But as soon as she's done crying, she hides the stuffed animal again and leaves the closet, cleaning off any tears left behind.

As kind and understanding Nick always has been and always will be about her autism, Imogen hides more and more about it from him as they get older. She doesn't mean to; she just doesn't want to burden the one person who never hated her.

(I could do so many entire posts about my autistic Imogen headcanons, tbh.)

2: She's not as big of a fan of physical touch as people assume she is. Because she's a very loving and energetic person, people (especially some of the not-so-nice lads) assume she's okay with physical touch all the time- arms around/by her waist or stomach. It makes her really uncomfortable sometimes, especially when she's overstimulated. However, because she doesn't want to upset anyone or come off as too 'weird', it's pretty rare she says anything about it. Nick, however, will notice quickly and do his best to get her out of those situations.

3: She calls Nick 'Nicholas' because it's one of the first words she was able to properly say. Imogen's dad (James Heaney*) is deaf, so until she started school, she mostly grew up using sign language and not her actual voice. Her parents never discouraged her from verbal communication, but she resorted to sign language more due to hating how loud everyone seemed to be all the time when she was little- she didn't want to add to that noise if she could help it. She and Nick have been best friends since they were babies because their mums were best friends, so Nick therefore knows some sign, too, which he learned from Imogen's dad. One of the first words Imogen learned how to properly say was 'Nicholas' so she could talk to him before he knew any sign. Even after that, it stuck.

(*Unrelated to James McEwan.)

Nick never treated Imogen any different for not talking much, so Imogen didn't really realize it was different until she started school and people started making fun of her voice. Because she never used it much, it sounded 'weird' to a lot of people. Nick was and always has been extremely protective of Imogen and would get really angry whenever someone made fun of her, especially for her voice. (This is part of the reason everyone started to assume they liked each other- because of course, a little girl and boy can't just have a normal best friend relationship when they grow up, too, right?)

However, even though Nick always told Imogen there was nothing wrong with her voice, she grew extremely insecure about it and began forcing it to be different- practicing obsessively to make sure her vowels didn't drag too much, that her voice wasn't too deep or slow. Because of this, she developed the 'popular girl voice' we hear her use in the show quite often. (See: S1 EP2 - Picnic Tables, S1 EP4- Canteen, S1 EP4- Feild, S2 EP4- Talking to Ben about Paris.) It turns into a defense/coping mechanism- when she's anxious she quickly puts up that wall, 'one less thing she can be made fun of for'.

However, there are times when in raw, unfiltered emotion her real voice comes through. Sometimes by accident (See: S2 EP4, Restaurant Breakup) or when she's truly relaxed towards those around her and feels safe enough to use her real voice. (See: S1 EP5, Park Bench + S2 EP7, Art Exhibition)

As Imogen becomes closer with the Paris Squad and with Sahar again, her natural voice begins to come through more and more :)

No matter what, though, Imogen forever feels guilty for feeling bad about her voice- she has no problem with her dad's voice, why on earth should she have a problem with her own? Or even care what people think?

4: Somewhat building off #1 and #3, Imogen goes nonverbal sometimes, or choses it as a coping mechanism. Most of the time it happens when she's extremely overstimulated or depressed, which unfortunately happens more than it should. She wants to talk to her dad about new medication but is too afraid of burdening him any further. Plus, medicine is expensive. So, she bottles it up as much as she can. But some days it all hits her at once and talking is just too much, too scary. Nick and Sahar were essentially the only people outside her family (until the Paris Squad) that Imogen felt safe being open with about these things, and they are both extremely patient with her about it.

(One day in Paris Sahar saw Imogen get overstimulated so they went to sit alone for a bit together. It didn't really matter to either of them that that trip was the first time they'd seen each other in almost a year, they just sat there quietly until Imogen felt better, and Sahar held her hand. Something in Imogen's heart melted completely at that.)

5: She and Nick have a sibling relationship and look after each other extremely carefully. They always care for one another, and fight sometimes, but not often. (This is part of why the fight over the Ben thing was so hard for both of them.)

Because Nick and Imogen are so close, Imogen is one of the first and few people to notice + know about Nick's anxiety. Over time she learns how to help him through panic attacks and flare ups just as he learns to help her destress when she's overstimulated. Imogen is very quick to notice when Nick's anxiety is getting bad, especially when he has a panic attack coming on. (See: S2 EP3 Nick's bonfire panic attack/anxiety flare-up)

Imogen and Nick used to do sleepovers all the time as little kids, but as they got older it was considered too 'weird'. However, when Charlie was in the mental hospital, Nick had some pretty bad panic attacks at night, so Imogen slept over in David's old room to keep an eye on him whenever Sarah had night shifts. Imogen was hesitant to do so at first, not wanting to give Charlie the wrong idea, but Charlie promised it was okay- he encouraged it, grateful to Imogen for keeping an eye on Nick.

After this, sleepovers with Nick, Charlie and Imogen all together became pretty normal when Charlie got home. (I love them as a trio so much. You can pry their bond from my cold dead hands.)

Nick and Imogen worry about one another a lot, especially about their mental health. Imogen often deflects to avoid Nick worrying about her by making sure he's alright first. Nick, meanwhile, will do his best to say he's fine, not wanting to 'drag' anyone else into his anxiety, but will then feel extremely guilty for lying to her.

They're both people who try and keep it all bottled up so it can't poison anyone else, and this is why they can understand each other so well.

6: Lesbian Imogen. You don't have to agree whatsoever. I honestly love all the different interpretations of where she could fall under the sapphic umbrella, and people are so creative with their ideas for it. However, Imogen being lesbian makes the most sense to me. Her 'crushes' on guys were the most comphet things I've ever seen, especially with Nick. To me, she is lesbian. But she doesn't have to be to you. :)

(There are so many great posts about this in particular that go into depth about Imogen having comphet, I totally recommend looking them up.)

7: She has body issues. Imogen wears long sleeves often, not feeling comfortable with her arms or thighs exposed. She's done pageants since she was little, and while they're so much fun and she does amazing, the diet culture and people there really affected her.

This worried Sahar a lot when they were around 14 and Imogen started to eat less and less, causing an argument between them over whether pageants were good for Imogen to keep doing or not; whether they were good for anyone to do.

They made up, but Sahar never stopped truly noticing how those pageants were draining Imogen. It was one of the underlying things that led to their eventual friendship breakup in year 10 when Imogen got her first boyfriend and didn't know who she was anymore, just knew that she wanted to feel pretty and normal for once.

Imogen always knew deep down somewhere Sahar was right but forced herself to keep doing pageants anyway. Imogen originally began doing pageants as a little kid for her mum (Isabella Heaney) and didn't want to let her down.

(Another idea that deserves its own post, honestly.)

When her eating spiraled out of control, all she could think about was how much she hated her body. It was weird, it was all wrong and too big or too little in all the wrong places. There was so much pain, and she didn't know what to do with it. In the end, it left her with scars on her inner thighs and the underside of her left arm. Because of this, she's one of the first people to notice when Charlie begins struggling with the same thing.

These are just some of my MANY headcanons for her, lmk if you’d want to hear any more :)

#heartstopper #heartstopper tv #headcanons #imogen heaney #imogen and sahar #imohar #rhea norwood #osemanverse #alice oseman #rants n rambles #nick nelson #charlie spring #nick and charlie #angst

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floralcyanide · 1 year

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𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 ⌯ 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

Ethan Landry x Gender Neutral!Reader

Killing you wasn't a part of the grand plan between him and his family. But they had other ideas.

In which Ethan must make a choice.

warnings: death, major character death, murder, gore, blood, descriptions of murder, coarse language.

word count: 1300

author's note: I didn't feel like proofreading this tbh so I'm sorry if it flows weird or if details are messy. had a family death this morning and I'm coping by writing angst lol but I hope you all enjoy this.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

It’s the grand finale of Ethan and his sister and father’s plan. They are going to get the ultimate revenge for Tara and Sam killing their beloved brother, Richie. And it doesn’t matter who gets in their way- except you. Ethan explicitly told Quinn and Wayne that you are stubborn and would probably try and prevent them from hurting Sam and Tara. They know how much Ethan cares about you, so they agree to make sure to leave you alone and unharmed. But that doesn’t go as planned. Wayne always had a weird gut feeling about you. He always thought that if you ever found out who Ethan and his family really were, you’d tell someone and would hate Ethan. Quinn doesn’t like anyone who dates her brother because none of them are good enough. So, both Quinn and Wayne agree to ignore Ethan’s pleas for your mercy because why do you deserve it so much?

Your heart is roaring in your ears as you stand in from of Tara and Sam, pleading with the now-revealed killers to spare the sisters and take you for a bargain instead.

“You don’t have to kill me. You don’t have to kill them, either. The police know I’m Ethan’s partner, and when they find out he’s one of the killers, they’ll do anything to keep me alive. Anything,” you beg, trying your best to get to Wayne by staring at him with tears in your eyes.

“I love Ethan. And I know he’s doing this for his brother, and so are you. But you don’t have to kill them. Just take me, and we can get out of here,” you say, and you can see Quinn’s face turn in disgust.

“Shut up, bitch!” she says, striking you across the face with her knife, leaving a nasty slice mark on your cheek, “You don’t shit about Richie. So stop your begging and whining.”

“I know everything. Ethan told me everything except his name and what he did. I know what he was like, and before his obsession, he wouldn’t have wanted this,” you grasp your cheek, blood gushing out between your fingers.

Quinn lurches for you, but Ethan grabs her by the hair and yanks her backward, “Leave them alone, Quinn! What did I tell you?” he growls in her ear with gritted teeth.

“Forget what he told you, Quinn,” Wayne mutters, his eyes not leaving yours, “This person claims to know Richie. Well, since you know him so well, you’d know he fought for what he wanted. And he wanted Samantha dead and everyone around her to suffer. So it’s your turn, I’m afraid.”

You back into Sam and Tara, your arms out to protect them behind you completely. The three of you back up until you’re near the stage platform. But then you realize you can’t go anywhere. The only way you were getting out of this was if Ethan killed his sister and father, and no one was worth that much by any means. And you understand that.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, Ethan thought. They were supposed to avoid you altogether.

Wayne moves forward quickly, snatching you by your shirt collar and pulling you to him. He spins you so your back is pressed to his chest, his knife pressed dangerously hard to your neck. Your hands struggle at Wayne’s arms as you try your best to tear them away from your body.

“Stop struggling, or I’ll cut your fingers off,” Quinn snarls, pulling your arms down and holding them together at your stomach.

Quinn presses her own knife to your wrists, waiting for you to dare even to struggle. Ethan stands in front of you, hopelessness crossing his face. He doesn’t move, fearing that his family will cut you to pieces.

“Please,” Ethan whispers, “Don’t hurt them.”

“Oh, we won’t,” Quinn says, “But you will.”

Ethan’s blood runs cold, “What?”

“Ethan, you’re doing the honors,” Wayne smiles.

“No,” Ethan says, tears running down his face as he glances at Sam and Tara, who are holding each other, trying to devise a plan. They simply stare back at him with a bit of sympathy in their eyes.

“Would you rather both of us have our way with them? I don’t think you do, Ethan,” Quinn trails a finger down your face.

You tremble in terror, trying not to move a muscle, fearing you’ll be killed without a single thought. You look at Ethan, at first, with a pleading look to spare you. Then, upon realizing there was nothing either of you could do, you look at him with defeat and acceptance.

“It’s okay, E,” you whisper, “I’ll be fine.”

Ethan grasps his hair with his hands, his knife still in his dominant hand, “Fuck.”

“Hurry and make a choice Ethan,” Wayne says, not knowing that Kirby is slowly approaching them from behind.

But Ethan doesn’t see her. He takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you cry.

You gasp as a knife plunges into your sternum, pain radiating across your body from the impact. Kirby takes this opportunity to attack Wayne from behind and successfully does so. But Quinn grabs hold of you and backs away before Kirby can touch her. She has a blade to your neck once more.

You’re desperately gasping for air as your hands press against your sternum as hard as possible to keep the blood inside you.

“Why won’t you just die already?” Quinn screams in your ear, backing up as Kirby threatens her with the gun pointed.

“Keep moving, and I’ll slice their throat open,” the redhead seethes.

“Quinn, please,” Ethan weakly pleads with his hands up. Tara and Sam have taken Wayne’s knife and are now prepared to stab him at any given moment, “It’s over.”

“I don’t care if I die,” Quinn says proudly, “Richie would’ve wanted this.”

Everyone watches in horror as Quinn swipes the blade across your neck swiftly. You fall to the floor, hands flying to your neck wound as you hopelessly try to keep it closed to no avail. You look to Ethan, who is now running to you. Tara and Sam let him, knowing he wasn’t planning on hurting anyone else anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” Ethan sobs, running his hand through your hair, “It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

As blood curdles in your throat and you begin choking on the metallic liquid, you let go of your neck and shakily place your hand on Ethan’s face. The light leaves your eyes as you finally give in to the embrace of death. Sam, Tara, and Kirby have successfully subdued Quinn, who is now laughing as she fights her restraints.

Ethan ignores her and slowly looks up at Kirby, who is standing above you and him, gun aimed at his head.

“Kill me,” Ethan says weakly, “Please.”

Kirby shakes her head, “As much as I’d like to, I can’t do that.”

“Just fucking do it, please! I can’t live without them and know this is my fault!”

Kirby says nothing, and Ethan’s face flashes with anger as he lunges toward Kirby, who fires a fatal shot into his head. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. But it did. And now Ethan lays beside you, blood pooling around his head as the last bit of oxygen in his lungs rushes out. As the adrenaline wears down, Kirby growls in pain as she holds her side where she was stabbed yet again. Tara and Sam rush to her as sirens approach outside. Quinn is now silent as she stares at her father, who is passed out from the previous attack, and her brother, who is now dead.

Tara sits on the floor next to you, softly closing your eyelids.

taglist:

@nicepeony

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krikeymate · 1 year

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So I've had this idea for a while and wanted to share it with you, but I'm kind of a noob when it comes to tumblr lol. Feel free to ignore this if it's bad or if I sent this to the wrong place 😅

I've had this headcanon since I've started obsessing over the Scream franchise that the Carpenter household was a Spanish-speaking one. I mean, Melissa speaks Spanish and Jenna's Mexican/Puerto Rican I think, so this could be canon if they decided to expand more on Christina and Dad Carpenter (now DC if I ever return to your asks lol I'm kind of embarrassed).

Growing up, the Carpenter sisters were taught Spanish by both DC and their mom. They didn't want them to grow up not knowing Spanish, what they both speak, so they strictly spoken Spanish while Sam and Tara would learn English at school.

While Sam succeeded quickly in learning English, Tara was stumped because "why the frick does the letter J make that sound in English? What the heck are elongated vowels? Why does Sam laugh whenever I pronounce certain things?"

All in all, Tara had a rough time.

Sam tried to help wherever she could, but they would end up play fighting and forgetting about Tara's homework.

When DC left, Tara was left all alone to work on her English. Sam stayed out later and later, and Tara thinks she's avoiding her. Christina barely gives her the time of day anymore, only going off in her mother tongue when Tara finally annoys her too much.

All alone in this journey, Tara suffers through her learning. It didn't help that she became the butt of the joke for a long time in school for muttering to herself before shouting out the answers in class.

She just feels left out. Even more when Sam ups and leaves, and Christina finally falls into a bottle.

Post 5 & 6 headcanons to tag onto this one lol:

Tara used to call Sam her guerrera fuerte (strong warrior), but now she sticks with either Sam or Sammy. Sam still has a lot of nicknames for Tara in Spanish, but the ones she regularly uses are chiquita (little one), corazón (heart), and cielo (sky, or it means they're your "whole world")

When she's exhausted, Sam will slip and speak in Spanish

Tara, being the pent-up and angry bean she is, yells in Spanish whenever she's frustrated. She doesn't notice sometimes after she's forgotten what she's angry about, but Sam is always willing to communicate with her excited sister

(Some of Sam's eagerness to talk to Tara is to prove they're the better sibling pair. Mindy and Chad have an advantage to the bet by being twins, but they're no match for Sam and Tara. Tara has no idea this bet is going on. Kirby is the referee.)

Sometimes Tara crawls into Sam's bed and tucks herself into her side. Sam, even if she was dead asleep, will always turn and wrap her sister in a tight hug. She sings Tara to sleep using a Spanish lullaby DC used to sing whenever Tara had a nightmare or became fussy

Sam and Tara talk smack about Gale to her face in Spanish. Gale learns Spanish to spite them

(They refused to admit they panicked when Gale all of a sudden knew Spanish and ran away laughing. Gale wants to adopt those two kids.)

Tara is a HEAVY Spanglish user because she's lazy, and she still never really bothered to properly learn English. That's why whenever she's talking to someone in English, she'll trail of and eventually go silent. She forgot the word she wanted to say in English...

Sam finds it hilarious and teases Tara whenever that happens, which is often

Sam and Tara are forced to listen to Chad and Mindy absolutely butcher their first language while trying to learn it. They stop trying

Sorry if this was too long haha, I got excited while writing this!!

I really really really love this!!!! More of an exploration of their roots both in and out of canon is something I would love to see. I've thought about trying to add some Spanish language into my work previously, but I decided against it because I know I would only butcher it, as it's not a language or culture I'm familiar with.

I hope you do return to my inbox, you've clearly got some awesome ideas to share!! I LOVE ALL OF THIS.

Their first language being Spanish and only learning English through school is such a really cool idea. Especially if you combine it with my idea that Tara ends up starting school a year later than she should, it could help explain why she struggles even more in that initial period. It would probably be quite hard for Sam to relate to Tara's struggles as well, because she'll end up having 6 or so years of learning English over her sister, and by then she's fluent and has forgotten how hard it is in the beginning. And if Tara's got learning difficulties? Oof. God knows I was never capable of learning a second language - not everybody can! Sam sees Tara getting frustrated when she speaks to her in English, and always quickly gives in, switching back to Spanish and distracting her instead.

I have no comments on the rest because it's all so so so perfect. A thousand kisses for you.

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 2 months

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If You Let Me (Badda Boom Universe)

Alpha!Jax Teller x Omega!POC!Reader "LuLu"

Summary:

Flashback to that time when you confessed your love during a jam session in the backyard unaware that Jax and Opie can hear you through his open window and things took a turn you weren't expecting.

Warnings:

Smut, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jax Teller, Accidental Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Marriage, Pregnancy

Notes:

Hello Heathens, I've decided that anytime these two have a story for me to write about them, I am going to add it as a chapter to their saga. This story is heavily inspired by the song "If You Let Me" by Sinead Harnett. (A link to the song will be in the story) Happy Reading!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Your recent hook up with Jax is fresh on your mind.

Granted, it was a week ago when he was “off again” with Tara before you found them back together just days later. It’s a semi-normal thing you've learned to deal with since you were teenagers.

You know loving him the way you do is painful, but you can't seem to help yourself. He’s had your heart since you were preteens and all those lovely hormones kicked in. His scent is the only one that has made you weak in the knees from just one hit. But you’ll only ever be his Little Moon, the girl who is dependable, always there whenever and for whatever he needs.

Ruts included.

You aren't fooling yourself thinking that someday he will truly be yours, your collarbone sporting his claim. So you keep yourself open to interested parties and have racked up quite the body count. But no one has hijacked your heart, or satiated your heats, like Jax has.

Well, that’s not true. Ari came pretty close to taking the role of Alpha in your life. Just when you thought you could possibly take things further with him, he got a job offer overseas he couldn’t pass up. That’s where things ended, just over a year ago. The universe loved to torment you.

Seeing Jax a couple days ago at the clubhouse, Tara hanging all over him, was all the reminder of your place that you needed. So you're spending your day off with Diamond, out in the sunshine on your back porch. Medicating your soul with your dear friend THC.

“Girl when are you going to get over that boy? The dick must be amazing for you to keep going back knowing he isn't going to pick you. I don’t care how good he smells to you.” Your best friend protests.

“I’m not going to bother trying to explain it to you again. My love for him isn't conditional. His scent is the one thing that always calms me. When we hook up, great, when we're just hanging out at the clubhouse, great. No matter who is there. It is what it is, D. I’m not trippin over it. So neither should you.”

“You’re telling me you dont want more?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Of course I do. But there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s how unrequited love works.”

“Alright then. If you say so. But answer me this one question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you manage all these pent up feelings without lashing out?”

“Easy. Like this.” You take a hit off the joint and start strumming on the acoustic guitar in your lap.

The Ganja begins to steadily course through your system, loosening your tongue and helping you purge all the pent up emotions you’ve been bottling up. Your surroundings disappear as your voice is carried on the wind to Opie’s open kitchen window, where he’s handing an exacerbated Jax a beer.

“Is it for good this time?” Op asks.

“She’s leaving again. So yeah. It’s for good.” He takes a sip of his beer. “At least for me it is. I really am getting too old for this back and forth shit.”

“I’m sure the fact she’s a beta doesn't help. Especially when you surround yourself with a certain little Omega.”

“I’ve known LuLu my whole life, man. If Gemma hasn’t run her off, Tara certainly isn’t keeping her from me.”

“Ya finally gonna do something about that, now that you're a free man?”

“What do you mean?” He pulls a cigarette out of his pack with his teeth and proceeds to light it. “We just hooked up last week.”

“I meant to make it more official than just hooking up when you need a tight place to stick your knot.”

“But she takes it so well man.” He smirks, tilting his head as a sound catches his attention. “Do you hear that music?”

“Probably Lulu out in her backyard.” Op supplies. “Must be high too, for her voice to carry this clearly.”

He gets up from the table and heads to the open window that has a perfect view of your backyard. There he finds you, sitting on the porch with Diamond. Your eyes are closed, fingers strumming along your beloved acoustic, emotion clear on your beautiful face as he soaks in the words you're serenading.

“I wonder who she’s singing about.” He thinks aloud.

“You can not be that dense man.” Op chuckles out.

“What are you talking about?” His eyes never leave your backyard.

Opie shakes his head. “I’m sure it’ll come to you. If not, just go over and ask her.”

Your mouth watering scent, along with your sweet voice, wafts in through the window. He can’t help but feel a pull towards you as he takes a deep inhale, allowing your last notes to sink in. He carefully watches as you look at Diamond, a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes gracing your face.

“Damn girl, you’ve got it bad. You weren’t kidding about it being unconditional. Jax is one lucky son of a bitch and he doesn't even realize it.” Diamond declares through a plume of smoke.

“Like I said before. It is what it is. Just because he checks all my mate boxes, doesn't mean I check all of his.” You swallow, placing the guitar next to you and taking back the joint offered to you. “I can’t wait around for life to find a way. So, I enjoy what I am given.”

“You’re too damn precious for this world girl. Fuck I wish I had just a sliver of your patience and self resolve.”

“Oh, no. I’m still a petty bitch. Don’t get it twisted. I hate the fact that he chooses her over me. I just don’t see the sense in wasting energy on it.” You take a hit. “He’s had more than a taste. Not to mention he’s a full grown Alpha. If he wants more, nothing’s stopping him but him.” You exhale, letting the smoke slowly leak out of your mouth and into the air.

“Is that right, Little Moon?” You turn towards the voice of the Alpha in question as he walks up your porch steps.

Unafraid of the truths you now know he just heard you hold your head high. “Sure is. But it’s of no matter at the moment is it? You belong to someone else.”

“She ended it today actually.” He confesses. “She leaves for Seattle tomorrow morning.”

“She never really could stand Charming for long. Always chasing something better.” You relay.

“I have to agree with you there. But it at least frees me up again.” He gives you that devilish smile.

“You could have been free at any time, Jackson. You chose to embrace your gilded cage.” You coolly state.

“Shiiiit, Mary Jane’s got you extra poetic in your pettiness today. I love it!” Diamond laughs out.

“Aw come on Darlin’. Here I was, having heard your little concert, thinking maybe I’d find you being all soft and sweet.” He play pouts.

“I’m not in the mood for your games or to ruin my high Jackson. So please, just say what you have to say.”

“You sure about that Omega? Even with Diamond present.” He nods towards your bestie.

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I have nothing to hide from her. I’m waiting.”

“Alright.” He crosses the deck, cups your face in his ringed hands and pulls you up to his face, laying a devastating kiss to your lips. Your synapses go haywire as his strong scent envelops you, allowing a whimper to escape your throat. His hands glide down to your waist, where he lifts you up so that he can switch positions with you.

Your thighs are now splayed across his denim covered lap, loose shirt raised to your waist, exposing the tiny shorts you were wearing underneath as he leans back into your former seat. He breaks the kiss, a smug look on his face as he looks up into your glazed over eyes. “That’s better.”

He runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “Diamond, I’m going to need you to give me and my Omega some space. Op’s next door if you don't want to go home. Choice is yours.”

“Your Omega.” You whisper, in confusion.

“You heard me correctly.” His eyes remain on you.

“Oooooh bitch, Imma bounce. Even though it looks like this is gonna be good.” Diamond grabs her bag. “I expect a full report first chance you get. Which by the look on his face isn't going to be til at least tomorrow. Love ya girl. Bye.” She scurries off.

“Bye.” You wave to her, your eyes never leaving the Alpha below you.

“You and I have some things we need to work out. Are you up for it Little Moon?”

“Does this have something to do with you overhearing me singing?”

“That’s part of it.”

You sigh. “Okay. Give me your worst.”

He grabs the waistband of your shorts, snapping them against your skin. "First I need these off of you. We're gonna have this talk with you warming my cock so you understand just how serious I am."

With a determined look and slick quickly dampening the crotch of your shorts, you stand up on shaky legs. With an initial push down over your ass, you shimmy them the rest of the way before taking a step out and kicking them off to the side.

His eyes devour your bare lower half, biting his lip as he runs a palm along the bulge in his jeans. “Mmm. Good girl. You really would do anything for me huh?” He hits you with his dazzling smile, the one that always has you weak in the knees. “Come here and unzip me, Omega. I want you to pull me out and sit on the evidence of what your scent does to me, darlin’.”

You can feel your slick beginning to slowly leak down onto your thighs, perfuming the air further with your scent. You squeeze them together before stepping forward and doing as your Alpha requested. You bend over at the hip, ghosting your fingers down his torso until you reach the tented denim, releasing his hard length to the light of day. With a quick squeeze to his base, you straddle his lap and slowly lower yourself down onto his thick cock, letting it fill you up inch by inch.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the possessiveness and lust swirling in his Cobalt blues. Drawing in a deep breath, your lids become heavy, you can’t help but lose yourself in how good his mouth watering scent mixes with your own sweet essence. As you reopen your eyes, he places a soft kiss on your lips, sliding his hand down to wrap around your throat. "Now be a good little Omega for me and pay attention to what I have to tell you."

You nod your agreement. Your tongue, incapable of forming words at the moment.

“I was next door at Op’s, shooting the shit in the kitchen. Downloading him on all this Tara business. When this music drifts in through the window that faces your backyard.” He pushes his thumb under your chin. “Imagine my surprise when Op tells me it’s probably just you playing around out back.”

You swallow against his fingers. “You heard me.”

“Oh yes, Little Moon. I heard every sweet and tortured word you sang.” He smirks at you. “At first I thought you were just singing to sing. Though the words did sound a bit like a confession. It wasn’t until you finished and Diamond got to chatting that I connected the dots. All those precious words were about me.”

"Yes." You whisper out.

"And here I was, getting called out by Op right before the universe comes and drops a neon sign pointed in your direction." He licks his parched lips. "I originally came over here to tease you about getting high and serenading the neighborhood.” He chuckles to himself. “After hearing you say it wasn’t worth the energy to wait around for me and then still called me out on it when I showed up. Well, darlin' I knew I had to rectify that."

"So that's what this little show of Dominance is all about then? Witnessing the power you as a whole have over me?” You give him a challenging look.

“Not at all.” Unbothered by your accusing tone, he caresses your neck, fingers dipping down until they ghost along your collarbone. “This is all to make it clear where I stand. I heard you loud and clear, Omega. No more dancing around it. I’m taking what’s rightfully mine.” He growls out.

You involuntarily clench around the girth settled deep inside of you as his words register, making him practically purr at the feeling.

“Fuck it. Move your hips Omega. I need you to continue being a good girl and let me watch you ride your Alpha.”

Your eyes alight at his command. You swivel your hips, slowly grinding against him in a figure eight pattern, losing yourself in how full you feel, walls gripping on to his thickness.

You raise up and start to bounce on his lap, his hand returning to your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. The sweet pressure, muffling your moans. "That's it. You look fucking gorgeous when you ride me. Your tight little cunt was made for taking my knot. And you’re going to let me stuff you full of it aren't you."

You can feel the stirrings of an epic orgasm on the horizon. He removes his hand from your throat, gliding his fingers down your torso to start rubbing your clit in tight little circles. You gasp out, head tilting back, hands gripping tightly to his shoulders. You’re right on the knife's edge, rapidly hurtling towards your own climax.

"Fuuuuck, baby you're so close. I can feel your sweet little pussy trying to make me pop my knot. Gonna cum all over my fat cock, Omega?" You moan out, head bobbing, lost in a haze of lust. "I can’t hear you, ‘mega. Use your words baby. Do. You. Want. To. Cum. On. My. Cock?"

"YES! Please, Alpha. Please. I want to cum all over your cock, make a mess just for you." You beg, uncaring of who might hear you.

A low growl vibrates through his chest. "There's my sexy little Omega. Begging so pretty for her Alpha." His fingers, dancing along your clit, quicken, causing the grind of your hips to increase.

"Now!” He grits out with a strong thrust of his hips up into you. “Cum for me right now, Omega. Want to feel this tight cunt of yours clamping down on my dick like a vice."

His command was all you needed to let go and fall head first into a mind numbing orgasm. You rest your forehead against his, as you let out a deep guttural moan. Nails digging into his shoulders as you writhe and squirm in his lap, riding each wave of ecstasy.

He pulls you in closer, kissing you to muffle your screams. You do have some pretty nosy neighbors afterall. His tongue dances with yours, setting you off once again. Or did you ever stop? Honestly who cares at this point. You find yourself chasing his lips as he breaks the kiss.

"Such a perfect Omega. Cumming so hard for her Alpha. Gonna let me fill ya up, baby? Cum so deep you'll be feeling me leaking out of you for days?"

You whine at the images his words create. "Yes. Please. I want you to fill me up so badly, Alpha. Need your knot." You plead with a twist of your hips.

Gripping your waist, he pumps up into you at an erratic pace. “Fuck baby, I’m right there.”

You grab his face, leaning down to smash your lips against his. Your tongues fight for dominance as he groans out, knot popping as he thrusts in deep, locking you together as he paints your womb white with his seed. Your velvety walls, milking every last drop he has to give you.

You find yourself smiling, as you hum your pleasure at being filled, against his lips. He pulls back slightly, trailing kisses down your neck, until they rest against your collarbone. Running his teeth along your skin, lips latching on and breaking various blood vessels with his suction. Leaving behind his temporary claim.

“Couldn’t help myself. Had to leave my mark somehow, darlin’.” He kisses the darkened, tender flesh. “When my teeth do finally sink in. Breaking your skin for the first time. You are going to be lying blissed out beneath me in bed, with my knot deep inside you. Not riding me in the backyard.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long this time, Jackson.” You tease.

After you both caught your breath and cleaned yourselves up, you decide to enjoy the rest of your day off together. Smoking a fresh rolled joint, enjoying some great takeout, and watching movies until you fall asleep cuddled together on the couch.

Both of you awakened once the sun broke through the curtains and into your eyes. This has never happened before. One of you always leaves before the other wakes up. You have to admit it feels right waking up wrapped in his arms.

“So, Little Moon. How do pancakes sound?”

Damn why does his voice have to be all deep and husky first thing in the morning.

You shake out the naughty thoughts running through your mind. There’ll be time for that later. “That sounds great to me as long as you can get Opie to make them instead of me.”

“It’s the least he can do after the free show I’m sure we gave him.”

#poc reader #jax teller x reader #jax teller smut #alpha jax teller

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junosbagel · 1 year

Text

Ethan Landry headcanons!

some general ethan headcanons, probably pre ghostface stuff, no spoilers!

i love my nerdy dork

warnings: none! all fluff

-he is oblivious but he really wishes he was not

-ethan is a gamer we all know it

-saw someone say he plays dark souls and i know damn well he does

-i could imagine ethan playing skyrim, resident evil, zelda, the last of us, the walking dead, detroit become human, final fantasy, pokémon etc.

-he has definitely played all the zelda games

-i can't imagine him playing competitive shooting games though

-for multiplayer games, he would always play with chad or get chad to play other games

-LOVES going to the arcade

-is a god at dance dance revolution

-his ddr partner is tara and they go all out!!!!

-sometimes a small crowd would gather to watch them

-nerd

-insanely in love with marvel, dc, and star wars (including the comics)

-other comics (or shows based from comics) i think he'd be into are invincible and the walking dead

-obviously collects comics

-collect other merchandise from those franchises and series

-collects figurines and funko pops

-since jack said he has adhd (like me) i want to add that to ethan!!

-absolutely loves it when he gets to talk/rant about his hyperfixations

-has a lot of "well actually ☝️" moments that their friend group, especially mindy, find very annoying

-he goes to the gym with chad, usually in the morning

-he was really close with quinn but when they started college, they kind of drifted but every now and then they would hang out

-chad and quinn always try to get ethan to try and talk to new people in hopes of getting into a relationship

-chad's his wingman, always hyping him up

-at times, girls (and boys) go up to ethan but he screws up a lot and makes a bad impression on them

-ethan does not like going to frat parties much, but figures he go to some anyway for the sake of "living up to the expectation" of his fellow peers and age group

-other times he'll go if chad and the gang are going

-and when he does attend frat parties, he doesn't drink or is at least sober because he knows he'll be the one driving his friends home

-a small hobby of his is drawing

-likes drawing art of characters from shows and series he likes

-as oblivious as he may be, if any of the girls need to talk to someone, they would go to ethan

-not for advice or anything, but just for someone to listen

-he isn't the best with words but through acts of kindness and reassurance, he tries to be there for his friends

-ethan also tries to be understanding when his friends are venting or going through something

-prefers math over english classes, he is good in his english classes but he finds math more interesting and easier

-loves building and collecting legos

-mostly collects star wars lego sets

-sometimes him and chad will build legos together as they talk or watch tv

-can actually cook, he's decent at it

-after a rough interaction with a girl that he tried to talk to, ethan felt self conscious about the way he dressed

-went to mindy and anika for help

-honestly he dresses pretty decently but occasionally he will wear a really nice outfit he liked when mindy and anika took him shopping

-when he's feeling down and needs someone to talk to, he usually goes to chad, quinn, or sam

-he has a hard time being vulnerable in front of people, even his friends

-but he's glad that his friends always assure him that they're there for him like he is for them

-is unintentionally funny

-on halloween he ALWAYS goes all out

-growing up he used to always match with quinn or richie

-but as they got older, both quinn and richie stopped dressing up with ethan :(

-really wants to go trick or treating but thought it was weird if he wasn't with a little sibling or relative to be with

-he stopped trick or treating after high school, thinking that people who gave out candy would think it's odd for someone his age to trick or treating

-i could see him collecting mixtapes, dvds, and vhs tapes

-into film and cinema in general

-either he tries to comment on stuff when watching movies or analyzes it all in his head (could make a whole essay about it if he wanted to)

-uses letterboxd

-ethan and mindy like talking about film and usually like to defend their opinions about it

-can binge watch a lot of movies or shows without getting burnt out

-although quinn and ethan are siblings, i can see mindy and ethan fighting like siblings do

that's all the headcanons i have for now! i am most likely going to make another one at some point. hope you all enjoyed this :)

#ethan landry #ethan landry headcanons #ethan landry scream #jack champion #scream #scream vi #scream movie #ghost face #scream 6 #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine

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frenziedslashers · 1 year

Note

(Thank you for answering my ask. :) You’re very kind. I’ll try not to let my scattered thoughts get carried away, lol! If you have any questions or anything, please let me know!)

So, what I’m thinking is… Since I’m low-key kinda tired of seeing all these survivor type readers, I’d like to see an extremely terrified, skittish, and introverted reader. A reader who is weak. A reader who is deathly afraid of zombies & people, for very personal reasons… I was thinking of some idea like this: Daryl encounters the trans dude reader by chance. He might hear some muffled crying in the trees outside Alexandria, and see a small pack of the undead clawing at something beyond their reach. It’s that guy. His body is frail, his limbs look like they could snap in half with just a touch. The smell of ganja wafting from him like sea waves. One thing interesting about the dude, besides the permanent drug scent, is that he’s carrying around a duffel bag filled to the brim with CD’s, and a dinky CD player. Joints & vapes shoved deep into the pockets of the worn bag. Maybe something about the reader might spark a tiny amount of interest in Dixon? Maybe there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the newcomer of the group? Maybe him and Daryl bond over similar tastes in music? Reader is antisocial as all get-out, but he is never snappy when spoken to. His voice is as quiet as wind whispering through the trees, so it’s difficult for others to hear him properly, and they’d have to ask him to repeat himself a couple times.

(I’m sorry, I’m not the best with describing what I want… 🥲 I’ll try to summarize down here:)

Daryl encounters a stoned, scared as shit trans reader who is stuck in a tree, outside Alexandria’s walls, and the others invite him in. Him & Dixon bond over similar life experiences and music? You can do what you want to with the rest. :) I’d love this short story to be filled to the brim with fluff! And slow burn would be amazing, too. Daryl & reader slowly getting used to each other & other people. And then that turns into something neither one of them would’ve expected: Love. <3

You Know You're Right;;

A/N: Yes! Of course! And thank you so much for this ask, I love this idea so much you have no idea 😭 I have been wanting to write a fic like this for a while but couldn't come up with a solid idea (the thought was there, but not a plan if that makes sense?) So this made me so happy when you sent it in, thank you 🫶

Pairing: Daryl x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Daryl gets a little snappy and rude but warms up, possibly ooc Daryl?, Drug usage (Marijuana), making out - nothing more, Daryl gets a tad bit sappy because I say so, let me know if I need to add more!

The growling only seemed to get louder with each passing second. Moans and groans that drove the hunter wild. Rick asked him to stay put, telling him 'They'll pass, they always do.' But he couldn't. Not when they seemed to be after something in the building right beside the gate. Who was to say they wouldn't draw in more? Even if it was just a damn cat they were after, Daryl was tired of it.

He opened the gate with the help of Rosita. The girl offered to come out with him, but he only waved her off. "Jus' five of 'em. Ain't nothin' I never took by m'self." He grumbled, and she sighed with a nod. She had Tara on the post that gave her leverage above the wall. Just in case things went south and Daryl needed the backup. She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl wouldn't accept her help. She also knew Daryl wasn't doing this for Alexandria. He was doing it for himself, to get out and use his skills so he didn't feel so damn useless. She got it, she really did.

The hunter let out a sharp whistle. Daryl watched as the dead slowly turned in order to see where the noise came from. Snarling and chomping at the man as he just smirked. His hair rose on his arms while he cocked his bow back. Aiming, then firing.

Killing the dead gave him this sort of thrill. It made him feel more alive. Reminded him that he wasn't one of them and he was still breathing.

When they got too close to where he stood. His bow was slung over his shoulder with an amused hum. Knife in his hand while he held his other arm out in order to shove them away if they did happen to get too close to him. "Bring it," he dared before moving with quick and swift motions.

He drove the knife into the skull of the closest walker. Shoving its limp corpse back into the other and watching as it fell. He finished off the last one standing before stomping on the fallen one that lay beneath the other dead one. Brain matter splattered out onto the pavement below his boot. A loud crunch was heard, and soon, it was quiet again. Until he heard a soft sob from inside that damned building.

Daryl hadn't expected this to become a rescue mission. Hell, he had half a mind to leave whoever it was in there to find their way back inside the walls. It was probably one of the damn kids that liked wandering out to screw around anyways, but he wasn't like that. He was soft, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Hey," he called out. His voice was gruff as he pushed through the door after twisting the handle. "Hey, who's in here?" He questioned, holding his bow up to his eye as he scanned the room. Turning in sharp and stiff motions to be sure he wasn't walking into a trap. Or that there weren't any more dead wandering about.

"Here," the voice was so soft and meek. It was as quiet as a mouse, and he swore if there were any more dead outside moaning and groaning he would have never heard it. The soft and timid voice that came from under the table.

"Come out," he ordered, and when you didn't he sighed, lowering his bow. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, there ain't no more walkers." His voice made your breath shake. Your eyes fell shut before you slowly crawled out from under the table. Standing to your feet with wobbly and weak legs. Your backpack still strapped to your shoulders. "Please, don't hurt me, I.." you took a deep gulp, another shaky breath leaving your lips. "I don't have anything valuable. I promise," you insisted before opening your eyes to meet Daryl's.

You were so scrawny, and shaky, and he swore he could smell the weed from the door. Seeing the way your eyes looked he knew it was from you, too. He wasn't stupid. Even though he hadn't smoked or been around bud in forever, he still knew what it smelt like. That wasn't a smell he could just forget when it was the core of so many memories of his own. Memories of Merle, when they both would smoke a bowl and just chill. Or when he'd sneak out of the house with a joint he stole out of Merle's stash to just relax and get away from it all. He knew. It was almost nostalgic for the man.

"Ya ain't from here," he verified, hardly paying any mind to what you said prior. You shook your head frantically, and he nodded. "Ever killed any of the dead?" You shook your head, 'no', again, and he nodded once more. "How're you alive then?" He objected, and you shrugged.

Truthfully, you didn't even know. Half the nights you'd hide in closets of homes and smoke the weed or nicotine you'd find stashed in houses. Or just sleep the days away. That's what you were doing here. Looking for a stash that was never there and you happened to get yourself caught. Daryl was the only reason you were standing.

"Ever killed any of the livin'?" He asked, and as he assumed, you shook your head again. He only hummed in response. Studying you closely with his squinted gaze. From what he could tell you were anything but a threat. You were a stoner trying to survive the damn apocalypse. Weren't much of a talker, either. Not that he minded much, it was nice finding a straggler who wasn't about to tell him a hundred reasons as to why he should spare him. Daryl couldn't stand people who didn't shut up. At least, people he didn't know who wouldn't shut up.

"Come on, let's get ya inside. We got some food and water, ya look like yer about t'pass out." He muttered, motioning for you to head out the door first. Sure, you didn't seem like a threat, but he wasn't taking any chances either.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Staring at the man before you who could very well end this all for you. You were too scared to respond verbally to any of his questions. Too anxious that you might say the wrong thing or sound too harsh for some reason and he'd shoot you then and there. It wasn't until he offered shelter, food, and water that you finally let your shoulders relax. A deep sigh passed your lips as you lowered your hands that you had risen to show you meant no harm to the scruffy-looking man.

"Thank you," you uttered, voice still as timid as before. "Don't mention it," was all he grumbled before following after you.

You shifted from foot to foot once you were inside the gates. Two women were standing before you and you swore you could crumble away just from their questioning and judging gazes. "Is that weed on him?" the one girl asked with narrowed eyes, and Daryl shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em? It's fuckin' hell out there," Daryl snapped, and Rosita only shrugged. "I guess," she groused, taking note of the glare in Daryls' eye when she questioned you. He was good at being protective over the people he'd bring home. Especially the scared ones. She never understood why, no one did. There was a lot about Daryl that no one could decode.

"Come on, this way," Daryl motioned for you to follow him, and you nodded. "Wait, do they have any weapons?" the other girl asked, and Daryl stopped. Turning back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You looked just as scared as before, and he pursed his lips with a sympathetic gaze. "Well?" He asked, and you reached into your pocket. Handing him a small knife. "I uh.. I don't use it much. Just to open cans, really." You spoke, your voice shaky, and he nodded. Taking it from you with a nod. "I'll give it back when we know we can trust ya." You nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he could keep it and you wouldn't care. Being here was more than a fair trade for the shitty pocket knife you found in a house when this all started.

"I'm Tara," the girl who asked about the weapons spoke, and you offered a shy smile. Stammering out your name while offering an awkward wave. Daryl couldn't help but stare while he watched you introduce yourself. Storing your name deep in his mind. "This is Rosita," the other girl offered a smile and wave, which you returned with a soft 'hi.' "And, I'm sure he didn't introduce himself, he's pretty good at that. This is Daryl," Tara told you while motioning to your savior.

The way you stared up at him with that soft and thankful smile did something to him. He hardly knew you and he felt this need to keep you safe. Like he was put on this earth to find you one day and save you from those walkers and protect you from the world around you. "Hi, Daryl," he nodded, his eyes fixating on the ground before looking back up at you. "Hey." his own voice was rather bashful this time, and both Rosita and Tara watched the man with curious gazes. Something was going on inside that head of his, and it made them both smile, just a little.

Daryl was quick to drive away the awkwardness that followed after he greeted you back. The silence was driving him wild, and he was directing you back toward the house he was originally going to take you to. The whole walk there was just as quiet though, but he'd take it over the look the two women were giving him after he said 'hey' back to you. It wasn't like he said anything weird. The situation was just weird.

"Is weed not allowed here?" You blurted, and Daryl looked over at you with furrowed brows. Watching as you wrung your hands together and kept your gaze forward. "What? No. Just... No one here really does it. Ain't gonna get kicked out over it," He told you, and you sighed. "All right. I got a little scared when Rosita?" You looked at him for assurance that you said her name right, and only continued when he nodded. "Questioned me about it," He shook his head with a sigh. "She just doesn't know how to mind 'er own damn business," you lowered your head, smiling faintly at what he said.

It wasn't until the both of you were closer to the house that you spoke again. Going over what you wanted to say over and over before you got the courage to say it. "If you smoke, or uh... Want to, I could share. It's the only way I could really pay you back for saving me." He snorted a bit at that, reaching up to scratch at his chin before pushing the door to a house open. "Ain't gotta do that," you shrugged, "well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind." He was definitely going to remember that.

-----

Weeks went by, and Daryl was there to get you settled in. He was there sticking up for you when Rick questioned why he let a stranger in behind the walls after everything that's happened. Daryl saw something in you. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. Whether it be that he thought you could be useful. Or that he saw part of the scared boy that Daryl used to be before he built up his walls. Walls that were now so high he swore not even the sun itself could peak behind them.

He did end up taking up that offer with you, too. In the five weeks you've been with them it became a ritual between the both of you, even. He'd meet you at the field close to the back of the walls, and you'd both share a joint.

The first night Daryl was almost too scared to ask if he could take up that offer. It was day seven of you being behind the walls. The two of you had gotten closer, but Daryl wasn't sure you were both close enough for him to be smoking your weed. Even if you had offered it up, he was still in doubt. If it weren't for the way you smiled at him and greeted him with those welcoming eyes he probably wouldn't have asked. You were so bashful with everyone else, hell, even afraid of some. Yet, you seemed so comfortable around him, even if you were still as timid as a mouse. He didn't understand why. Daryl was anything but welcoming, yet you seemed to like his company more than anyone else.

That night he met you outside the house on the street. There was a chill to the air that nipped at your skin, and he could tell you were a little cold by the way you'd shudder here or there. "Let's walk," he rasped, hoping the movement would keep you warm. He let you take the first hit and took the drug from your fingers before bringing it up to his own lips to inhale.

It had been so long since he'd smoked marijuana. His throat burned once the smoke drifted through it to his lungs. Offering the joint back to you while he held it in for as long as he could, before finally coughing it all out. "Holy shit, ain't smoked this shit in forever," he spoke while continuing his coughing fit, and you only snickered. Offering a bottle of water that he gladly took from you. Practically ripping the cap off before taking a swig with a groan.

Your eyes were glued to him the whole time. You finally felt like you found a person you could truly trust. A person that you didn't have to be scared of. Whether it be fear of them leaving, or fear of them hurting you. He seemed genuine, and you only hoped your judgment was right.

The weed didn't seem to make him any more talkative than before at first, but you did notice he seemed less tense. His shoulders seemed to roll forward a little, and his steps were a bit more sluggish. The crease in his brow was practically gone, and his eyes were on the sky.

"You ever think about if there's any other Earth's out there?" you asked as the both of you walked aimlessly through town, and he shrugged. "No, guess not," you smiled gently at his words, "I do, I always wonder if it's like our Earth. Like, where we're all there, but it's just, different." "Like we're there, but we got different lives?" He asked, looking over at you, watching as your smile grew and you nodded. "Yeah, exactly!" you hummed, and he nodded, staring for a moment longer, before reaching out with his hand to nudge your own.

He didn't grab your hand though, he was quick to pull his back to his side. He only wanted your attention. "Follow me, I know a place we could sit." You smiled at his words and complied. Following like a puppy beside the man you grew to trust.

"What d'ya thank you on another earth is like?" Daryl asked, hoping you would talk more about this intriguing conversation. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice more. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have my shit together," you chuckled, and he nodded, "I could smoke to that," he added while snatching the bud from between your fingers. A grunt slipped past his lips as he sunk to the ground. Taking the butt of the joint between his lips before inhaling.

You watched with a grin as he sunk to the meadowy ground. Your eyes watched as he lay down on the earth floor and looked up at you. He was something else. A man you wished you had met a lot sooner. "Ya just gonna stare or lay down with me?" He asked, and you felt your face heat up. Dropping to the ground in order to lie beside him. Keeping a distance between the both of you in order to not make it weird.

"I'd like to think the other me was a lot braver than I am, too," you muttered. Your eyes met Daryl's when you heard him shift to look over at you. "You are brave," he spoke, and you swore he sounded offended. You would have laughed at him if it weren't for how genuine his eyes looked. "If you weren't brave, ya wouldn't be here," Daryl spoke, and you shook your head, finally letting out a soft chuckle. "But I'm not brave. All I ever did was run. I've never even killed one of those things. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead right now. You said it yourself, 'how are you even still alive?' I don't even know, Daryl. I just am, not because I'm brave. Just because..." You paused, staring up at the night sky with teary eyes. Your chest rose and fell a little faster than before. "Because you fought," he spoke, reaching over to pass the drug back to you. "You may not've killed any, but ya survived. That takes guts. Y'ain't gotta kill to be brave." He told you, and you chuckled. "That's easy for you to say." And that was the end of that conversation.

Daryl didn't say a lot after that. His eyes focus on the stars above you both. He'd point at a few, asking if you thought they might be the other earth or not. You weren't sure why, but a particularly small star you had a feeling was that other earth. Pointing it out to the man with a smile. "I think it's that one. Right at the end of the Little Dipper." He snorted, and you looked over at him just in time to see him smile. An occurrence you learned fast was rare, and you cherished it. "Imagine if it was," he hummed, waving at the sky before his smile faded and his gaze turned cold.

Everything hit Daryl like a bag of bricks to the face. Everyone he ever loved who he lost. Ripped from him by whatever sick force took them from him. Merle, Dale, Amy, Sophia, Hershel, Glenn, Beth, everyone. If this other Earth was a thing, were they still there? Were they all alive and happy? Did Daryl get to meet any of them besides his brother? Did he still get beaten by his father in that life?

You watched as he scowled up at the sky. His jaw clenched, and you frowned. Wondering, but too scared to ask what was going on inside that mind of his. "I hope you saved me there, too." You spoke softly, watching his eyes dart around when he seemed to come back from his thoughts. His head turned to look over at you. Blinking a few times before his eyes completely softened. "I know I did."

That night was one of your favorite memories, and his as well. It was the night that seemed to bring you both closer. It gave you both a way to hang out. That only tightened your bond with one another.

-----

"Daryl," you called out when you caught him walking down the street towards the gates. His crossbow was strung over his shoulder. "Where are you heading?" He turned his head to meet yours, watching as you quickened your pace to walk by him.

He stopped his walk to allow you to catch up with him, too. "I'm headin' t'Hilltop. Jesus and Maggie needed an extra hand. Why ya need somethin'?" He asked with a curious gaze, and you shook your head.

A twinge of anxiety shot through you at the thought of him leaving you here by yourself, and he noticed it right away. "I ain't gonna be long. I'd offer to bring ya along, but I know ya don't really like leavin' the walls," he explained, and you nodded. He frowned when you didn't say anything.

You flinched ever so slightly when his hands grabbed your upper arms. His touch was soft and soothing though, a large contrast to how life had been treating you lately. "Hey, I ain't goin' nowhere. If ya wanna come ya're more than welcome. I got room on the bike. I always got room for ya," He told you, offering a lopsided grin, and you stared back at him as a smile of your own crept onto your face. If you told your past self you'd finally meet a man that didn't make your skin crawl when he touched you. A man that could ease away your worries with just a few simple words - he'd never believe you.

"I want to go, maybe I can help with what they need help with?" You spoke, a slight question to your voice, and he nodded with a hum. Giving your arms a light squeeze before pulling back. "'Ight, go pack a bag for a few days then, gonna be there for a bit," he added, shoving your shoulder lightly with his knuckles. Watching as you ran back for the house.

You held on tight the whole way to Hilltop. Your face was buried in his back while you clung your arms around his waist. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would end up on the back of a motorcycle, but here you were. With every bump and uneven patch of gravel Daryl hit, you'd cling a little harder to the man. Clenching your eyes and jaw shut. Praying to whatever God there was that he wouldn't crash his bike.

Daryl could tell you were panicking behind him, and he smiled a little. Reaching a hand down to hold over your hand when you would squeeze him tighter. Fingers rubbed over your arm and the backs of your hands to assure you that he wasn't about to let anything happen to you. He'd be damned if he was the reason you got hurt.

Once the bike was stopped inside the gate he practically had to pry your arms off of him. "Hey, ya can let go now," he spoke with an amused chuckle. "Ain't never been on a bike, have ya?" He concluded when you finally let him help you off the motorcycle. Nodding his head when you shook yours in response. "Well, I'll be sure to take a car next time ya come with me," he told you, reaching up to ruffle your hair before motioning for you to follow him.

Hilltop wasn't anything like you had imagined. Sure, the others had explained it to you, but it was so much more - farm-like. It was like all those video games you used to play on your phone to pass the time. The ones where you had the big fancy buildings and barns, with the crops that you harvested to sell and the animals you took care of for produce. It felt like a dream, really. It wasn't until you noticed all the people that you had never seen before that you finally felt that familiar fear and dread creep under your skin. Pushing the awe and nostalgic feelings away.

Daryl hadn't even thought of how you would react to all the new faces until he felt your hand slip into his. The action startled him, neither of you had ever really held hands before. His eyes darted down to look at your fingers that intertwined with his own. His fingers cautiously linked with your own. Giving your smaller hand a light squeeze while he brought his eyes up to look at you. Offering a soft smile when you looked at him. "I got ya, yer safe," he told you, and you nodded. You knew you were with him there, but hearing him say it out loud while squeezing your hand back only seemed to bring a wave of ease over you. It was like a blanket that wrapped snuggly around you, just that blanket was him.

Maggie greeted you both with a smile that could wash away anyone's worries. It was so sweet and kind, and it gave you this sense of hope that maybe more kind people existed in the world outside of Alexandria. "I'm so glad ya made it, Daryl," She had the same accent as Daryls, yet hers reminded you more of a farm girl. It had this cowgirl vibe to it that you couldn't quite explain, and it made you smile a little to yourself.

You watched as Daryl pulled his hand from yours briefly to greet her with a hug. He was quick to return to your side, his hand grabbing at yours again. He motioned to you with his head, introducing you to the woman as he introduced her to you.

"Nice to meet you," you muttered, offering your other hand to shake, but she ignored it. Smiling at you before pulling you in for a hug that definitely caught you by surprise. "Any friend of Daryl's is a friend of mine," she spoke before pulling away. She didn't want to assume that the both of you were dating, but she could tell that something was going on. Daryl wouldn't just hold anyone's hand.

"How about you show 'im around, Dar'? Jesus ain't back yet, I can come to get ya when he is." She offered with her kind smile, and the hunter beside you nodded. "Sure thing, Maggie, come on. I got somethin' to show ya anyways." He spoke to her and then you. Your eyes watching him with curiosity when he mentioned showing you something. Excitement coursed your veins at the thought of him showing you something - anything.

He led you off and away from the leader of the little community. The woman watching both of you with a fond gaze. She was glad Daryl was finally able to find someone in all of this. It was about time he finally opened himself up to someone.

Your eyes freely roamed as Daryl drug you through the town. You recognized a few of the faces. Tara was here, greeting you with a wave and a soft smile before Daryl pulled you along further. You even saw a few others who had stopped by Alexandria a time or two during your stay there.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and he glanced at you before motioning forward. "There," he grunted, and you sighed. Looking at the building that he led you to. "Are you finally leading me to my death?" You quipped with a soft laugh, and you noticed the corner of his lips tug into a small smile. "Nah, you're too fun," he shot back, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't have your heart soaring. Your eyes dart down with a shy smile that did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

Daryl knew what he was doing probably wouldn't be that exciting, but he hoped you would like it. He saw all those CD's that you had in that bag of yours and he had heard you talk about your favorite bands so many nights when the two of you would smoke or just talk. He hoped this would mean something to you. Even if he just got a smile and a 'thank you,' from you he'd appreciate it. He'd feel appreciated. Like maybe he was doing the right thing.

When he opened the door to the shared room he ushered you to sit on the bed. Taking the bag that was strapped over his shoulder and setting it on the dresser while he rummaged through it. His back was facing you, and blocking whatever he was doing. It had your palms sweating and your body trembling a little out of anxiety. What could he be grabbing? You couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to pull out. Did he make you something? Find something on his last run that reminded him of you? Maybe he found a new pipe for you guys to use, or...

You stopped thinking when the first note hit your ears. Everything in you froze. Your heart stopped beating for a moment and you felt a wave of emotions wash over you like you were standing in the middle of the river. You carried those CDs with you everywhere in hopes that you could listen to them all again one day, and now the intro of one of your favorite songs, from one of your favorite albums was playing in the room with you.

Your hands clenched the blankets that you sat on top of and you felt this wave of gratitude, nostalgia, and so many more things overcome you. Tears were actually brimming in your eyes at how thankful you felt for the other man.

When he turned around, you didn't even give him time to speak. Your mouth beat him to whatever he was going to ask. "You listened?" You asked, astounded that he even listened to you when you rambled about the bands that you liked. The fact that he paid attention had you feeling so much more validation than you ever had in your life. No one had cared to ever listen to you when you go on your tangents.

He let out a nervous chuckle while nodding his head. His own anxieties had taken over the moment he started the song. Wondering if maybe you wouldn't appreciate the battery-operated CD player as much as he thought you would. "Yeah, 'course I listened. Why wouldn' I listen to ya?" He asked while shifting from foot to foot. His fingers fidgeted with the sides of his jeans before he brought his bag over to you on the bed.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. Resting it between the both of you. "I remembered all the bands ya said ya liked, I took 'em from your bag and put 'em in here, hope that's 'right." He told you. Watching as you excitedly rummaged through it. Though a few CDs you didn't recognize.

You furrowed your brow when you pulled out a Johnny Cash CD, along with A KoRn and an Alice In Chains one that you hadn't owned prior. "Those 'r some of my favorites," He told you, and you felt your heart swell at the fact he was sharing his favorite bands with you.

Music always seemed to connect you with people more than anything else in the world. The way the songs could be played just put you in the mood for different events. Different songs to associate with different people. Not only that, but the music was the best way to learn about other people. For you, at least.

"You like Alice?" You asked with a grin and he nodded. "Yeah, I used t'listen t'Man in The Box all the time," he told you with a soft smile, and you felt like you were ascending. "Any other songs you like?" You asked, and he nodded. "Hurt by Johnny Cash, Ma used t'sing Merle and me that when I was li'l." He remembered while leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Lots'a Nirvana songs 'r good. Dumb, Aneurysm, Negative Creep, School," He reminisced, eyes staring off at the floor. "Had m'hand full of CD collections before," he scrunched his nose at the memories that flashed before his eyes. "'fore m'dad broke 'em all." He spoke but was quick to continue. "Motorhead, Creed, Sabbath, R.E.M., had a bunch'a CDs I'd steal from stores or m'brother would get f'r me." He spoke, his voice growing quieter and quieter the longer he spoke about his past.

Every memory felt like a plague to Dixon. Even the good ones gave him this sense of unease and made him feel a little queasy. Thinking about his mom reminded him that she died in what he used to think was the worst way possible. The thought of his Dad made the scars on his back scream. It was almost like he could still feel the months' worth of aches and pain that they brought him. Even the thought of his brother made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Memories of Merle betraying him, even before all this started. He realized now that his big brother betrayed him when he was younger by leaving him with their abusive dad. When he would let his friends beat Daryl. When he'd drag Daryl into drug deals and buys gone wrong.

Now when he thought of Merle, he didn't even see what he used to look like. He saw those haunting dead eyes, and the blood that drooled from his mouth after he had eaten a man.

"I had this CD collection that took up an entire cabinet," you told him, and Daryl was thankful that you started talking. He couldn't spend another moment inside that head of his. "Used to listen to music every day. I had to, or else I'd think too much and go crazy, you know?" Daryl nodded at that, he knew exactly what you meant. "I'd either think too much, or everything would be so fucking quiet. I'd get scared because all I'd hear was static and I always needed something to fill that silence." It was Daryl's turn to look over at you now. Watching as you stared at the radio and rambled on.

After a while, Daryl was hardly even listening to you or the music that played in the room. He was too occupied watching you. The way your hands move while you spoke. How you would smile or frown depending on the mood of your sentence. Or even the way your brow would crease when you thought of how to word specific sentences. He was entranced by you. Everything you did was like magic to him. He could watch you talk all day, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to talk with him. He knew you weren't fond of social interaction. He was an introvert himself, plus it wasn't hard to notice how reserved you were. He was just happy you trusted him enough to talk this comfortably around him. Even if he still noticed his you fidgeted your hands and wet your lips constantly.

He didn't focus on your words again until you said his name. His eyes focused on yours with raised brows. It made you smile, you knew he had zoned out. It didn't bother you too much though since you were practically rambling about nothing and everything all at once.

"Thank you, Daryl," you repeated yourself, and he nodded. Sitting up so he could place his hands beside him on the bed. His fingers unintentionally sat right against yours, but he didn't dare move them away. "'Course," he muttered, but his voice sounded distant. Like he still wasn't entirely there and he was still thinking about something else.

He could feel the beat of his heart quicken in his chest when he got this crazy idea of kissing you that flashed through his mind. That was insane. He couldn't do that, he wasn't the type of guy to initiate something like that, but you sure as hell weren't either. He was fighting with his inner thoughts. One-half of him screamed for him to kiss you. To pull you against him and hold you close. To place his hand cautiously over your throat and feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch, but he didn't. He couldn't, not right now.

"We should listen to music and smoke later tonight." You told him, your palms growing clammy with the way he stared at you and had his fingers touching the tips of yours. You just needed to say something to break the silence that was practically killing you. "We should," he added, and you smiled.

----

On the upper floor of the barn was where you both decided to light up. He had found some weed on one of his runs and offered it to try tonight. He just hoped it was good and wasn't shit. It was hard telling, anymore. Not that they really had a lot of options.

"Got a light?" He asked, holding the joint between his lips, and you nodded. Flicking the lighter so the orange light glowed. Holding it up to the tip of the joint in order to light it for him. Daryl made a 'v' with his fingers beneath the rolled drug in case it happened to slip from his lips.

He inhaled and you watched with interested eyes. His own eyes locked on your face, bouncing from feature to feature until he had to blow the smoke out. Turning his head in order to not blow it in your face. You snatched the joint from his fingers before plopping down on the ground with a hum. Your legs dangling over the edge of the opening that led from inside the barn to the outside. It was like a giant window that allowed you both the ability to see the night sky. Clicking the play button on the radio before taking a hit from the joint yourself.

Daryl leaned back when the song started. A deep exhale left his nostrils before he laid his back on the floor. His feet lightly kicked with a soft smile. Taking another hit of the drug as you passed it back to him.

'Ain't found a way to kill me yet.'

Daryl soaked in the familiar lyrics while letting the drug slowly work its way into his system with each passing hit he would take. You could tell he was already getting high the more open and relaxed he got. "Ain't listened to this song in ages," He spoke into the night sky and you chuckled, finally allowing yourself to lay beside him. Just you were facing him, admiring him with the false sense of confidence that the marijuana seemed to be feeding you tonight.

You smiled wider when he closed his eyes and began muttering the lyrics to the both of you. "Yeah, we come to snuff the rooster," he mumbled, and you wondered if he even realized he was singing to the song. It was a moment you truly hoped you would never forget. Passing the joint between one another for the next song or two.

It wasn't until the next song started playing that you finally started singing with him. "I will never bother you, I will never promise to," you called out, and a lazy smile graced Daryls' lips. "I will never follow you, I will never bother you," he hummed out. "Never speak a word again, I will crawl away for good." You both sang and your eyes met. He was glad he had grabbed this CD. He read the first few songs someone had scribbled onto it with a sharpie and he knew they were all good, but he never imagined you'd both be singing them with each other. Sober him wouldn't be, but high, Daryl was always more open and in a way bubbly.

You both stopped singing the moment your eyes locked. Kurt Cobain's voice floated in the air around you, and the mood between you both seemed to shift dramatically. Daryl could feel the heat rising to his chest, and his thoughts were so fogged over that he hardly knew what he was doing until he was doing them. Thoughts so delayed that he didn't even feel like he was controlling his own mind.

His fingertips reached out to run over the side of your face. Daryl turned to his side to look you over with this look that called out to you. You felt like your face was burning where his fingers brushed against you and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Daryl," you spoke his name and his chest felt even tighter hearing you call out for him. He needed to be engulfed by you. To be inside you, but not in a sexual light. In more - an innocently intimate light. He didn't want to physically be inside you, but metaphorically. He didn't want to have sex, he just wanted to be consumed by every part of you. Your touch, your scent, your voice. He wanted you to hold him and he to hold you. To kiss you and feel just how soft your lips felt against his own. He wanted to be connected to you

Before he could even think over what he was doing. His body was drawn to yours like a magnet was attracted to its opposite. His hand was calloused, but his gentle touch was a big difference from the roughness of his fingers. His body scooted closer to yours, and you pulled yourself closer to him with the same eagerness. Even if neither of you really knew what was happening.

His nose bumped yours, and he felt his heart soar when you giggled at the action. His own laugh escaped his lips while he stared back into your eyes. "May I kiss ya?" He asked with his southern charm, and you nodded. You were practically putty in his hands, but he was even more so putty in yours when you reached up to brush some hair from his eyes. He damn near malfunctioned when your fingers brushed over his forehead and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He never knew how crazy you could drive him.

He finally gained control over his body again after focusing on the way you brushed his hair away. Leaning closer to close that gap between you both. His heart was loud in his ears. If it weren't for the fact that Chris Cornell was now singing in the background and he could still faintly hear him, he would have assumed that his eardrums had burst.

His hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him. The kiss started soft and experimental, but Daryl was fast at deepening it. Hungry for more of it, more of you.

He was practically devouring you, his teeth were clashing with yours, and it had your head buzzing. Your hand knotted in the hair on the back of his head and he moaned into your mouth. A noise you had never imagined the stoic and stone-faced hunter was even capable of making. It surprised you, to say the least, and part of you wondered if you had imagined it.

Your free hand was quick to explore his arms, shoulders, and chest when he lifted himself from his side to scramble over you. One arm rested on the opposite side of your head while the other hand held the side of your face gently. You were like a couple of teenagers who had snuck out of the house to get high and make out, but this was far from either of your intentions from the beginning of the night.

Hell, both of you were convinced that neither of you would ever make a move even if you did both reciprocate the feelings. You were each so awkward and nervous. Daryl had experienced enough rejection in his life, and so had you.

When Daryl finally pulled away you were both fighting to catch your breaths. Daryl's eyes were dark. His pupils were blown and the blue of his eyes was hardly visible, especially when all either of you had for light was the moon outside that shone through the opening behind the both of you. Casting shadows over your body that Daryl swore made you look even more mysterious and handsome.

"Sorry," he muttered, he didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it just came out. He had asked to kiss you and you said yes, but he felt like he got just a little too carried away there. You smiled, though, and it made his stomach fill with a fluttery zoo of butterflies. You made him feel things that he never thought he'd feel. He felt like he was in high school again, kissing the boy of his dreams and feeling all light and floaty. Just he wasn't, and you were both old enough to be parents to kids in high school, and high school was a thing of the past. He wished he had met you back in high school, hell. Maybe you would have been his reason to not drop out and actually get an education.

You cupped the sides of his face and his breathing staggered. His eyes fluttered shut while he let you pull him down in for another kiss. Everything felt so amplified, and he wondered if your lips were this addictive sober, too.

"Don't apologize, Daryl," you chuckled against his lips, and he nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, and both of your eyes opened to look at each other. He hardly had a reaction, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes staring into yours, but you giggled. Your fit of giggles made him giggle as well. Another noise you had never thought to hear from the man above you. "Daryl you're too cute," you blurted, feeling your body heat up after realizing what you had said, but you were too out of it to react.

Daryl snorted lightly at the compliment, a pink dusting over his face. "Me cute? God, ya should see yerself," he cooed, leaning back in for another kiss which you happily accepted. Both of you hummed into each kiss you gave one another. Until Daryl's lips got curious, and they trailed down your jaw. He wanted to feel every part of you that you had to offer. One of his hands moved to rest on the other side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He felt how fast it was racing and that only seemed to excite Daryl more. His lips traveled further down until they were on your throat.

His lips had hardly brushed the skin of your neck and you felt it tingle with this familiar feeling that had your body flinching and jerking. A smile spread across your lips as his beard tickled against your skin. "Daryl," you squeaked while he unintentionally tickled your neck. "Daryl, stop it! That tickles!" He was a little panicked when he heard you tell him to stop, worried he overstepped the boundaries, but when you said it tickled? Oh, that was a reaction he was not expecting but was far from disappointed in hearing.

His lips attacked you, and your giggles turned into laughs. Your hands trying to shove and push him away from you. Your legs tried to scoot you away, but he had moved so he hovered above you and his other hand was on your hip keeping you still. His laughter was mixing with your own while he left sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulders. Your giggles caused his chest to swell. He swore it would burst open with how much adoration he had for you.

It wasn't until you pushed his face away from you that he stopped. His eyes met yours that were shedding tears from how hard you were laughing, and he smiled down at you with these eyes that you swore you'd never seen so much love in before. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him, hell you were a little upset. You weren't that fond of being tickled, but you couldn't help but smile back. You'd blame your lack of ability to stay mad at the man above you on the weed. When deep down you knew you just had the biggest soft spot in the world for Daryl Dixon. Your hero, your saint.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, brushing tears off it with a sigh. "Sorry, got carried away," he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "Jus' love hearing' ya laugh, can't blame me," he grumbled, and you looked a little sheepish as you stared up at him. "I like hearing your laugh too, I don't get to hear it that much though." He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His finger traced over your cheek and down to your chin. Watching intently. "Kinda hard t'laugh anymore," he sighed, and you nodded. "I get that," then it was silent again.

The CD has stopped a while ago. Neither of you really knew when it stopped, but neither of you really seemed to care either. Normally you hated the silence, but right now it felt so much different. Your senses were overwhelmed by the man that was now shifting to lay beside you. Your eyes grew heavy as you smiled fondly over at him. He noticed how sleepy you looked and took it upon himself to get you both back inside. It was too chilly to be sleeping out here with no blanket, and with the spring weather, there was no telling if it would start raining in the middle of the night or in the morning.

Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees, and you watched. He had to stay in that position for a moment while he steadied his vision. "shit, might'a smoked too much," he chuckled, and you chuckled back. "You're such a lightweight," you teased, and he shot you a playful look. "Hey, you just wait til I'm smokin' ya under the table, I used to smoke my big brother under the table," he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Watching as he stood to his feet, but you had no motivation to move.

He extended his arm for you to grab, but you just stared up at him. He smirked, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon, boy, ain't gonna shit talk me then just lay there," he quipped, and you groaned. Grabbing his hand back while letting him pull you to your feet. It was like nothing to him, lifting you off the ground, and it made you wonder if he could just carry you to bed. Your wobbly legs seemed to ask the question for you though because before you knew it Daryl was sweeping you into his arms.

The yelp that you let out made him snicker, "Quiet, people are sleeping'," he joked, and you wrapped your arms snugly around his neck. "Oh, so you tickled me and had us both laughing, but you draw a line at me shouting because you picked me up while I'm high? Dick." you scoffed, and he rolled his eyes, reaching back to the ground to grab the stereo. His shoulder rested against a pillar for a second to gather his balance again. He was going to pass out the moment his head hit that pillow and he knew it. He walked you both back to your room, neither of you saying a word in the process.

Once you were in the bedroom, he set the stereo down on the end of the bed before lying you down. He was going to leave and head back to his own room. Leave you with your own bed, but when you grabbed his hand he stopped. His blue eyes stare down at you while tilting his head to the side with a questioning gaze. "Can you stay?" The corner of his lip tugged up when you asked that. His insides were bubbling and his heart was fighting against the restraints of his chest plate. "Yeah, scoot over," he hummed. If he was sober he'd have asked you if you were sure, but he was too stoned to even think about dragging himself down the hall to his own bed. Plus, it'd give him an excuse to actually hold you. It wasn't like you two weren't just eating each other's faces a moment before anyways.

You shifted over for the man. Daryl lying beside you after reaching down to untie his boots and then toe them off his feet. He stayed a distance from you, but that didn't last too long. Soon you were scooting back into his arms, the both of you holding each other incredibly close before you each relaxed. Even if you weren't the strongest thing, he felt so incredibly safe with your arms around him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. You feel the same with his arms snug around your waist. "Night, Daryl," you muttered against his chest. A soft grunt left his lips since he was already pretty much asleep. Sleep took over you right after.

The next day Maggie had come to Daryl's door. Knocking since he hadn't been up already, worry taking over her at that fact. He was always up before everyone else. It seemed like the moment that sun was rising he was wide awake. Ready to take on the world and more. When there was no answer she called his name, peaking inside the door with furrowed brows. "Daryl?" She called, but no one was there. Maybe he went out on a hunt? Even with all the food they had in the communities, they'd always find him out getting squirrels and rabbits, the occasional deer here or there.

Before she landed on that decision though she went to check your room. Raising her hand to knock, but right as she did that door came swinging open. He was standing in the doorway and his brows shot up at the fact that she had caught him leaving your room so early. "Sleep well?" She asked with a knowing smile, and he felt his face go hot. "Slept fine," he muttered, and her smile was even wider at how bashful her friend got. The way his eyes darted to the side, and he seemed to block you from view with his body when she tip-toed to look over him to see you where she assumed you would be in bed. "You two do somethin?" She asked, and he scoffed. "No, ain't nun'a yer business if we did," She giggled, stepping back to allow him to exit the doorway and step into the hall. Daryl peeked behind himself to see you sleeping before he shut the door. "Are you guys...?" "Dammit Maggie, I came here to help you, not ya're damn twenty questions." He snarled while stomping down the hall, Maggie standing in place while watching the man with a grin. "Takin' that as a yes."

#Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd

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