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foreverinadais · 1 year

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bad date: j.l

summary: you find yourself on a bad date. in desperation, you call your ex, jake lockley, hoping he can help you. which he does, in ways you never could've bargained for.

warnings: smut (eek), dry humping, kissing, light choking ig??? jake puts his hand around reader's neck, fluff, teasing, reader's date is a twat like he seriously sucks, angst but not with jake, no use of y/n or pronouns :) ~part of the ex! mk series but can be read standalone!!!~

word count: 3.4k

ex!mk series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

It felt wrong to be on a date. Extremely wrong. You felt as though you were being disloyal, despite having no commitments, no one to be disloyal too. The events of a couple of weeks ago were still freshly embedded in your brain. It was as though every time you blinked, you remembered a different detail from your conversation with Marc, or a different look from your car ride with Jake, or a different touch from your comforting of Steven.

You had never been quite so confused.

You almost cancelled the date that had been scheduled for quite some time. But doing that would admit you weren’t over your exes. And admitting that would put all the work you had done in getting over them to shame.

So, you got ready, put on your finest outfit with the glamour you desired, and got a taxi to the restaurant you were meeting him at.

He seemed nice enough over text. You had shared stories, even laughed at his pick up lines. He was handsome in a way which felt… unnatural. You struggled to find attraction to other people after so long denouncing everyone. It felt odd to look at a person, that wasn’t your person, in any way other than politeness.

He had embraced you, even kissed your hand, and you worried as you felt nothing. He had opened the door for you, even pulled your chair out, waiting for you to sit and still… nothing. He was perfectly nice.

Until he started talking.

“I just do not understand the people who say looks mean nothing. I mean, obviously, I am attractive, I know that. And you’re decent looking. We’re attracted to each other, nothing wrong with that.” You cocked an eyebrow, taking a long sip of wine as you hummed.

“Right. I mean, I think appearance is surface level. Other things matter more, like how much you laugh together, your morals… good conversation.” He scoffed, waving over the waiter with just his hand. Ew.

“Should’ve known you would think like that. Crickey, wonder what other opinions you have in that brain of yours?”

“Actually, I have a lot.”

“Right, Would love to hear about those, that’s why I came on this date.” The sarcasm dripped off his words and anger bubbled in your stomach. You opened your mouth to talk when the waiter came over, notepad in hand. “I’ll have the steak -rare- with the potatoes and veg. Gotta get the protein in after a work-out.” You cringed and the waiter shot you a sympathetic look.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the lasagne, please. With garlic bread.” The man in front of you chuckled, but it felt cold.

“Are you sure? Don’t want to have to kiss you with garlic breath.” Your stomach lurched at the thought of kissing him, but it was by no means a positive feeling. You would rather be sick.

“Make that extra garlic.” You said, and the waiter nodded with a smug, ‘certainly.’

Your date talked at you for the next fifteen minutes. He told you his life story, his career, about his friends and their “absolutely wild times, we go kinda crazy, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You were relieved when the food came out, so you had a moment of silence.

You wanted to leave. To shout at him, get up, and go. But you knew that wasn’t smart. He seemed like the type to follow you out the restaurant and ridicule you for making a scene, before claiming he was a ‘nice guy’.

You stuffed another piece of garlic bread in your mouth as you attempted to plan your next move. “These potatoes are vile. God, you want something done right, I can’t even eat this.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead shrugging.

You had eaten at supersonic speed to rush the date, to get home and snuggle under your covers watching a shitty romcom whilst eating the leftover cake in your fridge. You were relived as he swallowed the last bite of food, putting his cutlery down and sighing deeply. “Well that was a load of shit. The food, I mean, not you, darling.” You almost threw your food back up but managed to keep it down.

“Hmm. Right, should we-”

“Dessert first, right? Not that either of us need it but can’t have a date without something sweet.” The wink he sent you made your whole body curl in disgust. If you had to spend more than thirty seconds more with him, you were sure you’d end up stuffing your ears full of cheese just to never him speak again. This was the worst date you’d ever been on. You weren’t expecting the best date ever, but at least something to distract you from-

The idea hit you all at once.

Pulling out your phone, you pretended to look concerned, opening the one contact you knew would be readily available right now. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” You said as your date just shrugged.

Standing from your chair, you found an empty corner, hitting the call button and desperately holding the phone to your ear. It only took a couple of rings before you heard the familiar, “Yes?”

“Jake, you gotta pick me up. I’ll act like you have an emergency and you need my help or something, and then I’ll hastily leave, and you can get me in your cab and-”

“Woah, woah, slow down. What’s goin’ on? Estas en peligro? Are you in danger?” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Nothing like that. I’m just… this is kinda awkward but I’m on a date.” You could imagine him tensing up as his breathing changed slightly. “But it’s terrible and awful and I just, if I spend one more second with him I’ll end up killing someone.” Jake chuckled, and you scoffed. “It isn’t funny! Look, you owe me. And here’s your chance to pay me back like right now. As fast as you can. I don’t care how many laws you break getting here.”

“Relax, Carino. I got in the car when you started talking.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat and your heart skip.

“Thanks, Jake. I’ll send you my location.” He hummed, and you hung up, quickly sending the restaurant name before returning to your date.

“I’m so sorry but my friend’s had an emergency. This has been… lovely… though.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have too, yeah.”

He scoffed, and you noticed a shift in his persona. “Figures. Everyone leaves me.”

“Nonono, it isn’t anything like that! My friend-”

“Likely story. You know, I’m too good for you anyway. You won’t get a date with someone like me again.”

“Well, thank fuck for that. In fact, I’m deleting every dating app I have just to make sure I never do!” It came out before you could bite your tongue, but fuck, it felt good.

“Whatever. Didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

“Excuse me? That’s all this was? God, you’re such an arsehole! Fuck you, I’m leaving. I’ll pay my half at the till.” He started ranting about something, about how you ‘probably couldn’t afford it’ and how ‘you’re lucky he’s being nice’ but you were already walking away.

You paid for your meal, apologising to the waiter for the arsehole’s rude behaviour, but she just smiled and handed you a piece of dessert in a takeaway box; “It’s on the house.” You smiled, ignoring the shouts from your date as you left the restaurant.

You were beyond grateful to see him. He was wearing his driving gloves, the rough leather ones that you loved. He had got out the car, waiting anxiously to see you. You saw his sigh of relief when he did. You couldn’t help yourself.

You practically ran toward him, watching his face of shock turn to acceptance as you reached his arms. You wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to drop your food as he engulfed you in a hug. “Hi.” You whispered into his chest, beyond grateful he was there. You knew you could look after yourself. You didn’t need a man to come to your rescue.

But he wasn’t just a man.

Secretly, you were looking for an excuse, any excuse, to call them again.

“That bad, huh?” He said as you pulled away, scanning your face as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Worse.” You wanted to convey a serious composure. It had been terrible. But if you didn’t laugh, you’d definitely cry. Jake rose an eyebrow as you began chuckling, covering your mouth to try to contain it. But eventually, it started pouring out, until you were out of breath laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jake asked but couldn’t help smiling himself. “Huh?”

“It was the worst date ever.” You managed to get out, and even though Jake couldn’t quite understand, your laughter was so contagious, he couldn’t stop himself from joining in. People passing by shot you a few weird looks, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you released your emotions in the healthiest way you had for a while.

Eventually, you calmed down, wiping a tear from under your eye as Jake looked at you in admiration. “Want a ride?” You smiled, glancing back at the restaurant before nodding. Jake opened the door for you as you climbed in the cab.

“We have to stop doing this.” You said as Jake had pulled up to your flat. You had told him every detail about your date from hell, down to what seasoning you had on your food.

Jake had listened neutrally, apart from whenever you mentioned that man. His blood boiled as he thought about you on a date, thought about another man looking at you, making comments about you.

But he ignored the jealously, instead focusing his negative feelings on your date. “He sounds like a fucking asshole. Should’ve gone in there and given him a piece’f my mind.” He had said,gripping the steering wheel, but you brought him down, assuring him you had taken care of it and would be deleting him off every app you had him on.

“Doin’ what?” He asked, and you gestured between the two of you.

“Picking each other up? Calling each other? Seeing each other at all?” Jake nodded, but smirked.

“Almost like we can’t get enough of each other.” He teased and you tried to ignore the effect he had on you.

“Almost like you can’t get enough of me.”

“Ey? How’d ya reach that conclusion? You called us.”

“You called me first! I thought it was just something we did now.”

“Sounds like it’ll become a bad habit.”

“Maybe. But sometimes, I like being bad.”

“I remember.” The air shifted and suddenly, there was too much space between the two of you. You watched as he gulped, watched as the vein in his neck tensed and his lips twisted up in the familiar way they did.

“Thanks for the lift. Again.” You said, chuckling lightly, trying to clear the fog in your mind.

“Right. Anytime.”

“Anytime huh? That’s dangerous.”

“Maybe. But I like danger.”

“I remember.” You teased his words from earlier, and he shot you a small smile. Fuck, you wished he hadn’t looked over; and so did he. You held eye contact a beat longer than you had intended, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes flicked briefly towards your lips. You swallowed harshly, pulling yourself away from the moment, forcing yourself to make a move out of the car. “I should really…” You pointed toward your flat, smiling awkwardly as he nodded.

“Right. You should rest. I’ll see you, well, whenever either of us need a lift.”

You chuckled, nodding, “Well, thanks.”

“Por supuesto, anytime, seriously.” You didn’t want to leave. This felt different from every interaction with them since you had broken up. Something was screaming at you to stay, and you didn’t think it was the remnants of wine left in your system.

No, it was as if an invisible force was willing you to him, to his scent, his warmth, his stupidly attractive smirk. He noticed your hesitation, eyebrow raised in question. “If you’re gonna sit here all night, lemme know so I can turn off the engine.” He teased jokingly, and you forced a laugh.

“ ‘m going now, just… preparing for the cold.” He nodded but didn’t look convinced, amusement lingering in his features. “Okay, ready now!” You felt suddenly embarrassed, deciding to get the inevitability of your leaving over with. “Goodbye, Jake.” You said quietly, sticking your hand out as if to shake his hand.

“You want me too…”

“I don’t know! I thought it was a nice, civil gesture to end this terrible evening with!”

“A handshake…?”

“Fine, it was dumb anyway-” You began, retracting your hand before he grabbed it with his gloved one.

“No, no, c’mon.” He squeezed your palm with his own, and your skin tingled at the contact. The friendly gesture was corrupted in your brain as he shook your joined hands, a smug look on his face at the way your breath hitched. “There, happy now?”

You couldn’t think. Could hardly breath as you shook your head, ‘no’. Because it wasn’t enough. No amount of contact would ever be enough.

You didn’t think about the possible aftermath of your next action. You couldn’t think about anything but him. With zero hesitation, you were shuffling forward in your seat, hands falling on his jacket as you pulled him toward you slightly. Your lips barely grazed his, but it was enough to send your heart soaring.

No sooner than you had done it, you pulled away. It was his move. His cho

Jake looked to your gaze, then down to your lips, repeating the action twice. His eyes were glazed over, and you were sure his mind was reeling, his alters talking over each other, but he couldn’t hear anything apart from your heavy breathing and all he could smell was your perfume-

His hands cupped your cheeks, a small groan leaving his lips before they were on yours. You sighed in content, moving your lips with his as if you had never stopped. Your hands found his hair, tugging on the familiar locks gently as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

You didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. It felt so familiar yet so distant, as if you had only ever dreamt of moments like this. When in reality, you had kissed him thousands of different times. And it all came flooding in to this moment.

Jake pulled back slightly, breathless. You wondered why he had stopped, about to ask when you felt his thumb trace your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as he pulled lightly, your mouth obediently opening for him. He smiled before pulling his own lip between his teeth, eyes dark as he gently pushed his thumb into your mouth.

You made a noise of shock, but quickly pushed it away as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his thumb, inviting him to push further. Jake groaned, almost in disbelief, eyes never leaving yours. “Fuck, baby.” His words were drawn out, like they always were in situations like this. It drove you crazy. “C’mere, need you t’ be closer.” He said, voice husky as he apprehensively removed his thumb from your mouth, quickly silencing your groan of disapproval with his lips.

Jake pulled you over the gearstick, careful you didn’t hurt yourself, not that you cared at all about your safety right now. He sighed in relief as you swung your legs over his lap, straddling him as your arms looped around his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer. “Relax, Carino, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.” He chuckled against your lips, but you hardly heard as you rolled your hips forward.

His chuckles turned into groans as you found a pace, desperate to feel him against you, everywhere. Jake held onto your waist, helping you move rougher against him, trying to keep kissing you but fuck it felt so good.

You pulled away first, breathing heavy in pleasure as small moans left your lips. Every sound you made only amplified what he was feeling, and he couldn’t help but clash his lips to yours just to swallow them.

“Jake.” You whimpered, and he couldn’t recall a time his name had ever sounded so good. It was euphoric, just hearing you say his name.

“Fuck, baby, you sound ruined, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His words elicited another moan from you as your head fell into his shoulder, hips rolling faster to chase a high you couldn’t reach on your own, or with any other partner you had tried with since them.

Jake squeezed the flesh of your waist, still guiding your movements as his other hand went to the back of your neck. He tugged you up, watching as your bottom lip slipped between your teeth. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Lemme hear what I do to you.” He pulled your lip out from your teeth, and you let out a broken moan, eyes squeezing shut as his teeth bit possessively at your neck.

“Who’s makin’ you feel this good?” His voice had an edge to it, dark and dirty. It made your thighs clench harder around him.

“You.” You whimpered, eyes rolling back as you felt yourself hurdling closer to the edge.

“Not that prick from your date, huh? Ey, look at me. Who makes you feel like this? Need’ta hear you say my name.”

“You, Jake! Always you!” You practically sobbed, overwhelmed and so, so close. All your senses were heightened, and you couldn’t recall the last time you had felt this level of pleasure. And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Jake chuckled darkly, his hand slipping up to your neck, squeezing only slightly, but it was enough to send your mind reeling. “Thaaat’s it.” His words were drawn out in arousal. You were at the edge, practically falling off, and Jake could tell. Even after all this time, he could read your body perfectly.

“You can let go, Carino. Let go f’me, c’mon, there you go.” He cooed as you clutched onto him, gasping and repeating his name like a mantra as you reached your peak. Jake kissed your shoulder, stroking at your back as your body shook with aftershocks. “Did so good f’me, baby.” He whispered and you practically melted against him.

The windows were covered in perspiration from the events inside the car, and your heavy breathing filled the car. Jake whispered terms of endearment in your ear as you snuggled into his body. It was hot inside his car, yet somehow, you couldn’t get enough of his heat.

Eventually, you felt strong enough to speak, lifting your head up to face him, skin glowing in a thin layer of sweat and euphoria. Jake’s smiled matched your own as he cupped your cheeks, bringing you in for another kiss. “Wow.” You whispered against his lips, and he chuckled, agreeing.

You stroked the side of his face, tracing the details of his skin with soft fingertips. Jake leaned into your touch, savoring the softness of your actions. Neither of you were thinking about the consequences. And if you were, neither of you cared. Not right now. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. He had almost forgotten that happiness existed outside of you.

“It’s late.” He said suddenly, and you sat up straighter. “You need rest, especially now. I don’t wanna disrupt that.”

“Wait, what? I just kinda figured… you don’t want to come up with me?”

“Well… I thought you were finished.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get to…” You looked down at his lap, at the prominent issue still there, and you smiled teasingly.

“Trust me, baby, that was all I needed.”

“But I want to make it up to you.” You innocently ran a hand down his chest, stopping just before his belt and he tensed.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want too. If you want too.” You watched as he tutted, before nodding. “Please?” Your voice was soft but seductive as you ran a hand through his hair, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his jaw, then his cheek, then just next to his lips.

You felt drunk on him and you didn't care about what this could mean. How far it could set you back. You were too far gone, too deep already. You needed him. You always needed him.

Jake groaned, squeezing the flesh of your waist. “Joder eres tan bueno -fuck you’re so good- when you ask so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

a/n: i have never written smut before so this was a fun venture into it!!! i promise more parts are coming. i was conflicted on how to do this chapter but it kinda found it's own end. the next one will involve our other two boys yayyy :) i am really enjoying writing this series. thank you so much for reading!!!

tags: @rmoonstoner @marinalor @readingfan @neteyamsluvts @howellatme @nana90azevedo @midgardian-witch @daddyjackfrost

#moon knight #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley #jake lockley smut #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight angst #moon knight fluff #ex! jake lockley

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thecapricunt1616 · 4 months

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Saffron - c.b. one-shot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “I want to” the words left your lips without even needing to think and with your permission he watched your blissed out expression in the mirror as he spread your folds with his fingers, before dipping his digit in your slick and swirling it back and forth gently over your swelling nub. He placed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin.

♡ O/S Inspo: For thousands of years, Saffron has been used to boost libido in both men and women. In Greek mythology, Zeus himself used the spice as a sexual stimulant. Traditional Eastern medicine also recommends it as an aphrodisiac.

♡ Summary: You have just been invited to star in your very first music video as a dancer - so of course you're a bundle of nerves, but your lovely Bear knows just how to help you relax.

♡ W/C: 1,947

♡ Posted Date: 05/16/2024

♡ A/N: Hi, Hey, Hello all! Hello to all my new followers omg 💖 I am so happy you’re here! This one shot is based on ♡ this ♡ request by @bbyseojun ! I hope this is what you were looking for when you requested it 🫶 I'm so so soooooo sorry that this got lost in my docs! Eek sorry about that :( Per usual requests are OPEN! I love doing them, I hope to get more in the future (promise they won't take as long as this one hehe) ☺️💖

♡ Warnings for BTC: smut smut smut - more smut - swearing (not edited that well SORRY) - tis all I believe! No use of Y/N & Black!Fem!Reader friendly. ♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had finally gotten your big break. Today was the first day of your music video shoots for one of the biggest up and coming female rappers in the industry, and you couldn’t be more stoked. You could hardly sleep last night due to your excitement.

You had been a dancer in Chicago for 4 years now, well - not full time. You of course between gigs waitressed @ The Beef — which is where you met your beloved boyfriend. You had worked for Mikey for about a year before he took his life. That was the thing that no one saw coming. When you came in to work the night after it happened and Richie wasn’t there - you knew something was extremely off.

When Carmy came back to Chicago you were a bit shocked that he actually accepted the offer of taking the restaurant over. You two got close very quickly, and you were able to help fill in the gaps of what Michael wasn’t telling him so he could better process his death.

Your romantic relationship bloomed faster then Carmen expected - but if he was honest he couldn’t get enough of you. The days you were off doing auditions or gigs he found himself missing you around the restaurant, giving you little playful spanks as you shuffled past him at his station while running food to the front of the restaurant, as well as sneaky make out sessions right before lunch or dinner rush in the dry storage.

Your alarm went off at 4:55 and you hopped out of bed, starting the shower and Carmy was still snoring. He had no alarms set because he was taking you today, and would be on set with you. You at first had felt like he was babying you, or felt as if you couldn’t handle getting there yourself because you’d expressed confusion about the set location.

He’d explained after a heated screaming match after closing one night last week, that you ‘weren’t allowed the time off if y’were gonna be a brat ‘bout him comin w’you’ and that ‘he knows models who have worked music videos and there are fuckos and pervs he doesn’t want you around’ so he was simply going to ‘keep you safe’

He took you at the expo table after you’d expressed if he just said he was doing it because he loved you and not because he thought you were incompetent you would have submitted to his request. That led to his thick hand around your throat and lips to the shell of your ear hissing into your sweaty skin

“Y’need me t’show you how much I love you? Mmm? Want me t’show you how I own this fuckin pussy? Huh? That big fuckin mouth isn’t runnin’ T’much now that I’m givin y’what y’been beggin me for all fuckin day yeah?”

By the time you’d finished your shower, Carmy was up, drinking his black cold brew packed with ice in a 32 oz deli container as you buzzed around the bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth and fluffy black towel wrapped taut around your figure.

“Y’know it’s only 5:40, right?” He said, looking up from his phone. He was likely checking his emails, or obsessively texting Sydney - making sure she was awake and headed to the restaurant to be there for truck since today was the first day he was leaving her on her own.

“Fiffe footy?!?” You exclaim through toothpaste and dropped your towel, his pupils going twice their size as your breasts bounced around while you hopped into a clean pair of seamless painties, before grabbing a bralette from the top draw. You slipped it on, rushing and sitting on the bed and he clips it for you by nature before you adjusted your chest and skittered back off to the bathroom

“Start the fuckin car!!! Jesus!!!” You snap, stressed and annoyed he was still laxely sprawled on the bed enjoying his coffee and catching up on his phone.

“Fuuuckin Christ!!! Y’gonna be like this all day?” He huffed, opening his draw and grabbing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, slipping them on. “Lucky I take my showers at night” he grumbled.

“Scuse me?” You snipped with a slight smile “who’s lucky for what?” You challenge.

“Nothing” he scoffed, knowing if he tried you he’d not be touched for a week. “I love you” he said to try to smooth things over as he grabbed the keys and went downstairs to start the car and you smirked to yourself, slipping on your grey sweats and tank top before slicking your hair into a bun.

By the time he was back, he comes and gives you gentle kisses on the back of your neck, gently rubbing over your belly and finding purchase on your hips before squeezing sweetly. “ Is someone nervous? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin and trailed his fingers underneath, goosebumps appearing on your skin at the contact.

“Why wouldn’t I be nervous? And you’re movin’ all slow” you whine and he gently kisses your bare shoulder, trailing gentle pecks up to your neck

“Relax” he said in that soft sweet way, tucking his fingers in your waistband. “Y’know we don’t have to be there till 8:45. It’s not even 6 baby the drive won’t take that long” he kissed that sweet spot right under your ear.

“How am I supposed to relax when I’m about to do the biggest gig of my life this is like- this is like you with your stars!” You watch him in the mirror, gently nibbling on your earlobe gently, sucking on it. He stopped to chuckle lightly and you slap his thigh

“Babe I know, I know it’s important - ‘s just funny cause you never know when Y’gonna get tested t’get a star it’s not like a fuckin…bar exam ‘er somethin. But y’gotta relax sweetheart” he dipped his fingers in the waistband of your panties “lemme help yeah? Make y’feel good?” He mumbled into your skin.

“Carmy” you breathe as he rubs his thick calloused fingers over your mound. “Carmy” you drop your head back on his shoulder, guard falling down immediately. Every thought melted from your mind, your knees went wobbly, toes curling slightly. He knew exactly how to get you going, exactly which buttons to push. You felt his lips trail your jaw, careful to not nip hard enough to leave a bruise.

“You know what to say if Y’don’t want me to” he reminded you, stilling his fingers for a moment to give your thoughts a moment to clear. You opened your eyes once more, seeing his piercing blue ones wide and enlarged with desire, tip of his nose red from the chilly morning air and lips slightly swollen from his inability to keep his lips from trailing your skin.

“I want to” the words left your lips without even needing to think and with your permission he watched your blissed out expression in the mirror as he spread your folds with his fingers, before dipping his digit in your slick and swirling it back and forth gently over your swelling nub. He placed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin.

In the mirror you saw your nipples had become rock hard beneath the fabric of your bralette, your eyes trailing down to see Carmy’s hand working beneath the soft fabric of your sweatpants. “Feel good baby? Mm?” He asked gently, pressing you more against the counter since your knees were getting weaker. You responded with a breathy moan and gentle nod, grinding into his hand. “Wait- wait princess won’t feel as good mm? Trust me” he stilled your hips and continued rubbing wide, gentle circles into your folds.

“Please need you so bad-“ you whined out, feeling as if you sounded a bit pathetic but you didn’t care - the only thing bouncing around your mind was you needed release, and soon.

“I know princess, y’gettin there” he drags your juices up to your clit, circling gently at first but quickening his circles before switching to strokes back and forth that had your hips bucking forward and a sharp gasp passing your lips. “See” he said gently, a smug smile on his lips as he rubs down, feeling over your entrance and teasing it with the pad of his finger. You bit your lip, looking at him in the mirror.

“You’re such a tease” you whined out, and he thrust his finger inside you, causing your jaw to drop and a whimper to fall out of your mouth, gripping the counter with white knuckles for stability

“Am I?” He mused, pushing past the first knuckle, then the second, achingly slow. He curled it in, trying to find that special spot “You look so pretty when you relax like this, mm princess?” He kept your gaze in the mirror, watching every twitch and gasp. You felt his cock pressing hard against your ass, you could only imagine the wet patch on his sweatpants and it made a wave of warmth flood your lower belly at the idea he’s going to have to change them before you leave.

“You wanna fuck me? Huh? Right here in front of the mirror?” You asked, voice breathy and needy. He found the spot and pressed it with the pad of his finger, rolling your clit under his palm - the sensation on both ends of your most sensitive bit was enough for you to see stars in your vision at the stimulation. You leaned on the counter feeling weak and he lifted you with his other arm, holding you flush to his chest and wrapping his hand around your neck just enough for your head to feel light.

“You think you could handle me kitten?” He asked in the shell of your ear, adding his ring finger and thrusting them quicker. You went to moan, but you were so blissed out it came out more like a squeak. “Huh? Did ya’ say somethin’ pretty girl? Could barely hear you y’pussy is so wet” he teased, curling and uncurling his fingers to exaggerate his point, the squelch of his fingers nearly drowning out your whimper that soon followed.

“Cumming” you moaned hotly, resting your hand on his forearm, squeezing gently to tell him to add more pressure on your throat. He got the message of course, he always did. He had your body memorized as well as he did every cooking temp in the book. You leaned into the counter as your knees shook and he supported you with his arm, working you through it and whispering praise into your skin.

“See? Thas’ my good girl yeah? Jus’ needed some help lettin’ go mm? Feelin’ better now princess?” he worked you down, rubbing you gently. Your hips twitched and he chuckled a bit “Needa sit?” he asked gently and ran his hand from your neck down your chest, rubbing over your ribs sweetly.

“No-” you said once you got your mind right again whining a bit when he took his hand out. “M’sorry for being mean” you said softly, looking at him in the mirror. He gently kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment and closing his eyes. You closed yours as well, leaning against him and savoring the moment. You did feel much better, you felt much lighter, even though there was an infrequent twitch between your legs as your body rode out the wave. It was all pleasant, though. “Y’aren’t mean baby. Just a little sassy” He spanks you lightly. “I’m gonna shower, go stretch out n'we can leave when m’done - ye’?”

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bridgetoesoteria · 8 months

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🖤Breaking baddie🖤: Describing your 'dark feminine' energy. How to channel it?

Hola malacitas 😘 (i hope that actually made sense lol).

First things first, what is "dark feminine" energy?

Yes, this is the **first website that comes up when you google "dark feminine," but it is pretty thorough and comprehensive! I liked it the most out of all the others. The others either repeated the same points or had too many outdated/black-or-white views. Feel free to do your own research however. There are plenty of videos on YouTube as well. **One caveat...when you get to the part about tapping into DF energy, I disagree with #8 (specifically).

(We're going to keep this post light and I'll dedicate a separate post to my personal viewpoints.)

So I will be telling you all about your personal DF "archetype." I will also provide guidance on how you channel your DF energy.

I am so so excited for this! Eek 🙊 Okay, options below, left to right. I hope it resonates!

I am using a few different decks. I won't be adding pictures but I will provide what cards I drew.

Pile 1

Off the bat: I am hearing "no fuss" and also "ruthless," which is interesting considering the image you chose. I was also hearing the lyrics "all I do is win, win, win no matter what." So I'm getting some really bad ass energy right away! Come thru mob girlies!

4-Card Spread: 4 of Diamonds, 8 of Diamonds, 7 of Hearts, Joker. Bottom of deck is 6 of Clubs.

It's funny you have the 6 of Clubs (wands) on the bottom of the deck. I was hearing those lyrics about winning. This is a card that signifies victory and public recognition or celebration. I feel like the DF side of you is really bad ass! I'm also getting a pinch of "lover girl" energy. Its kind of like you have perfect formula sugar+sheist+everything nice! lol

This energy isn't afraid to be in the spotlight but is also quite comfortable in the shadows. You may be (or this is what other people think) the type to use underhanded to get ahead. Its not personal but you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm also getting an energy of it is easy for people (I'm hearing "dudes" so maybe some of you talk like that) to get attached and feel led on. But I think you are married to the hustle.

Some of you may not regularly reside in this energy and could be put off by the description. But that is exactly why its dark feminine energy. It pokes and antagonizes the status quo, which is where most of us reside from day to day. Traditionally, feminines are not painted as cunning, street-wise, heartbreakers. Your DF energy pushes back against those constraints placed on feminines that require prioritizing the group over self. Not that anyone asked but I think that's actually kind of amazing.

Of course you don't have to reside in this energy and adopt some toxic alter ego, but there probably are some gems hidden here. People who move like this are usually made, not born. In some way, they learned that survival=competition, so you learn to "stay ready so you don't have to get ready." Your motto as a DF would be "every (wo)man for themselves," making betrayals feel less personal because...well it just isn't, as crazy as that sounds.

Advice: The Devil, Queen of Swords, King of Wands, The Star. Bottom of deck is 7 of Swords + Mute (Oracle)

I'm getting a strong message about speaking up. I am using Tarot de Carlotydes and in this deck the 7 of Swords is depicted as a sword swallower. Which I always interpret as "swallowing" the truth. Then as I was focusing on this group's image, I realized the cabinet behind her is full of skulls, reminding me of "skeletons in the closet." Then finally we have a literal Mute card:

The Mute is told what to hear, say and think and is often suppressed. Sometimes breaking the chains against heeded words may be rewarded.

So you currently may be the complete opposite of your DF energy. One of the keywords for the Mute is "insecurities." I feel like a lot of you are sleeping on yourselves. 🔊AND ITS TIME TO WAKE THE F UP!

Maybe you are trapped in your light feminine energy. I say trapped because it feels like you are forced into that box. Super passive, loss of control. Where your DF energy would insist on speaking up and standing out, you may just keep your head down and avoid any trouble.

I'm hearing specifically that some of you love writing poetry but may have someone who discourages you from pursuing this interest. You may want to present your poetry to an audience and they tell you that no one wants to hear what you have to say. For others, they are saying no one wants to hear from you about something else.

If you are used to toxic and restrictive connections or friendships, you are being called to step out of that. Get used to asserting your boundaries, "do not speak down about my hobbies," "if you cannot allow me to think for myself, then we can not continue our relationship." I think you definitely have it in you.

Another keyword listed is "hope." I think some of you may enjoy singleness and being single-mindedly focused on you and your goals, more fulfilling than you think. It can be healing to finally feel like the star of your show.

TL;DR: Your DF energy definitely has a bit of edge to her. She does what she has to do to move ahead and she prefers to fly solo. Even if that is not where you are right now, this energy already exists within you. Once you drop the dead weight--be it toxic family, toxic friends, or a toxic partner--you will see how quickly you flourish. You have every right to speak your truth and protect your peace. Its time to peel yourself off the wallpaper and start standing out and speaking up!

Pile 2

Off the bat: I wasn't getting anything with this group. I found that strange and wondered if I wasn't "tuned in." I think this represents your mental space when you are in your DF energy. You are clear minded and have a "sober" outlook. Maybe some of you are literally sober or are considering it.

4-Card Spread: 2 of Clubs, Queen of Spades, 8 of Spades (R), Ace of Hearts/7 of diamonds. Bottom of deck is 9 of diamonds.

I am very strongly getting that there is something noteworthy about your DF's decision making abilities. Maybe that sounds "boring," but its actually pretty admirable! The world often sends the message that feminine energy does not possess strong cognitive abilities. When feminines contradict this stereotype, they can be labeled as "cold," "mean," "masculine," or met with hostility.

I'm honestly getting that the DF in you does not care. You may naturally lean more to this side in every day life. Or this is where you could be if you tapped into your DF energy more often.

You make clear decisions and keep it moving. You do not allow your thoughts to keep you tangled up in a web of confusion and indecision. Some of you could be really good at chess. I am getting that kind of energy. Calculated, self-assured, and making decisions with no intentions of taking it back.

You are quite comfortable standing on your own, and pouring into your own little world. I get the image of a woman who lives on a quiet estate, walking through her garden, with birds chirping and flying above. Have any of you watched the movie Men (2022)? I loved the imagery in that film and that's kind of the vibe I am getting now. A lot of horse girlies may have picked this pile.

I feel you being very unbothered, above drama. Your DF energy would love to find a masculine that can match your energy. You are good on your own so you won't allow anyone disruptive into your peaceful little domain. You do not make impulsive decisions in love and you are willing to wait for a new opportunity that is worth the investment. With the king of diamonds two cards under the 9 of diamonds, I do feel like this DF energy could pull the kind of masculine you desire.

Your DF energy really shines in STEM related jobs, corporate spaces, or any position that requires a sharp mind.

Advice: Ace of Swords, 10 of Swords, 4 of Wands, Knight of Cups. Bottom of deck is 10 of Wands + Spider (Oracle)

As soon as I pulled the ace of swords, I heard "get used to speaking your truth." I also heard stop entertaining "little boys." I don't think this is in terms of age, I think this referring to the maturity level of masculine energies you may usually deal with. I am in no way encouraging that you pursue anyone older. (Honestly, that does not guarantee emotional maturity or respect. But that's another convo).

I think this message is about the expectations you set for your partners. There is nothing wrong with expecting them to match you. They can either rise to the occasion or be left behind. If you hold this potential inside of you to be a queen of swords, queen of pentacles, and 9 of pentacles. Then I'm sure that energy exists out there in a suitable counterpart. The ten of wands is encouraging you to keep forging forward. I don't like preaching to be "strong" and "endure," but this is different. You are being strong for yourself. If you have to walk alone right now, it gets tough at times, but you are doing it with purpose. It will pay off.

For some this may literally require you to live alone. Its interesting that I keep getting messages about homes. I got a lot of diamonds/pentacles in the last spread, which also can deal with the home and related practical matters. "Home" is one of the keywords for Spider. The Moon is on the bottom of the deck, I think it is also relevant. This is what the guidebook has to say about each:

The Spider traps those who wander into her web. Keywords: Control, Home, Familiarity, Comfort, Trapped, Security. The Moon is not always as she seems. Her delicate glow seeks for hidden truths while blinding others to her own. Keywords: Confusion, Apprehension, Suspicion, Feelings.

You may need to be more discerning when it comes to who you let into your home and/or your heart. You might need to create a little confusion when it comes to what your next move is. Everyone does not deserve your energy or to be held on to.

Spiders can also be associated with anxiety. In regular tarot, I do consider the moon to be a card that can speak about mental health. So some of you may need to make these changes for your own sanity, literally.

TL;DR: Your DF energy is a very strong and self-sufficient queen of swords type. She thinks clearly, can make decisions without questioning herself, and always stands on business. She has high standards for those who come around her because she has built a beautiful life for herself and will vet anyone who wants to join. This self-respect and authenticity helps to attract a suitable mate. One who can match this go-getter, no bs energy. The key to channeling this energy is to start living in it now. Trust your decision making abilities, don't announce or seek validation before you make a necessary personal decision. Staying true to yourself and becoming more independent will pay off.

Pile 3

Off the bat: When I looked at the image for your pile, I immediately heard "I'm not one of those/your little girls." So whew! We are coming in hot! Also hearing "I wish a b---- would."

4-Card Spread: 7 of Hearts, Jack of Clubs, 2 of Clubs, Joker. Bottom of deck is 5 of Hearts.

I am getting more light-hearted energy in this pile than the previous two. Maybe a lot of young, or young-at-heart, people have chosen this pile. This DF energy could easily pull many suitors but she views lovers as more of a "fun time," not so much a "long time." You could also be a little toxic toward lovers. Makeup to breakup, or honestly sometimes its just breakup lol.

This energy is quite fiery and uninhibited. Some of you could be fire signs, specifically Sagittarius. Or I am getting that because of what Sag represents: free spiritedness, adventure, luck. No wonder this DF energy resists being tied down. The world is literally your oyster and you knows it!

This DF energy is also a little scrappy. Have any of you watched the Bad Girls Club? You know how there would be that one person who has a temper, then gets a little too messed up when they go clubbing and ends up wanting to fight everyone... When you see red, people need to clear your path! I do get a bit of a party girl energy which is not surprising considering I was picking up on Sag.

This DF does not have a problem fulfilling her emotional needs. You will always make sure your cup is full. You will always make sure you are having a good time. You realizes that you have this amazing, fortunate energy and unapologetically harnesses it to get the most out of life. I think your DF self is also likely to be single and happy that way. Picking yourself up after disappointments in love is no problem because there are plenty more where they came from. You have an abundant mindset when it comes to love and life.

Advice: Queen of Wands, The Hanged Man, Ace of Swords, 5 of Cups. Bottom of deck is 5 of Swords + Ghost (Oracle)

In order to channel this DF energy, some of you may literally have to ghost someone. I am not surprised the energy of having to cut people off has been coming up. Sometimes the company we keep can really hinder our growth and self-expression. The hanged man is about surrender and next to the ace of swords, I sometimes see this combo as maintaining no contact. Ghost could also be taken literally.

But I think Ghost is also talking about a tendency toward self sabotaging and shrinking yourself. This is the total opposite of the DF energy that I just channeled. Its like the past and your insecurities have a tendency to haunt you and keep you stuck. You may also try to make yourself invisible. In the guidebook, the word forgotten repeats itself twice for this card:

The Ghost lingers, forlorn and forgotten. Keywords: Hidden, Mystery, Forgotten, Spiritual Matters, Fears, Faith

You will need to work on your self-confidence. When you are more confident in yourself, you will be more confident in your decision making abilities. You will be more authentic with the way you present yourself to the world because it won't matter whether people approve or disapprove. You know who you are. With the 5 of cups, there could be something that you are still grieving or regretting but you can bounce back from this! Channel your inner phoenix and allow yourself to blossom. Its time to reinvent yourself!

Be open to all the great things life has to offer you. Guided meditations for gratitude and self-confidence/self-love could be very beneficial. Trust that the flow of life is always leading you to something wonderful. Trust that you are allowed to call the shots in your reality. Do your part then trust and let go.

TL;DR: Your DF energy is very spicy! She is popular and free-spirited. She knows that life has so many different adventures to offer and she does not let anything stop her from exploring them. This DF is likely to be single or somewhat noncommittal. She does not mind flying solo and knows she can always find another mate. She is also quite lucky and manifests fortunate events with ease. To channel this energy you will need to drop any dead weight and increase your confidence in yourself and your decision making abilities. You could benefit from some form of self-help resources like books and guided meditations. And if it is accessible to you, therapy, support groups, or other resources that will help your create a stronger you.

Pile 4

Off the bat: I am getting a pretty serious energy. Some domme energy or you could just be a pretty dominant woman. This could be describing you or your DF energy. I keep hearing strawberries and champagne. Is that even a real thing? I've never met anyone who enjoyed that combo.

4-Card Spread: 4 of Clubs, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, and Ace of Spades. Bottom of deck is Queen of Spades

I am still getting some of that super assertive and stern feminine energy. I could see your DF self working being a principal. I am also hearing headmaster/headmistress. I think she would love working with children but not in the traditional, mushy-gushy light feminine way. Its more of a "I have/enforce rules because I love you" type of energy . You believe in structure and order. If this isn't working with children, this could also apply to raising children. I could also see this DF running an orphanage. I did hear "rule the roost" while I was shuffling, so no matter how this resonates, you definitely are not afraid to lead.

You are generous and wise. Beneath the stern exterior is a lot of love and compassion. Your soft spots are not visible until you take a closer look at what you invest your time and energy into. This kind of energy could also attract less mature suitors, because it intimidates them yet they are so infatuated. You carry yourself with grace and probably won't entertain them. You are much more suited to be their mentor than anything.

Going back to the original domme energy I was getting. You may actually prefer partnerships that allow you to wear the pants. You don't really want a masculine energy coming in and dictating to you. You can run your own life just fine and would rather partner up with someone who can understand that. I don't think you want someone that is "weak" either, its more like you desire the cliche of the masculine that calls the shots in the board room but is more submissive/passive at home. They are secure enough to be with a feminine energy as strong as them.

Some of you as DF would be comfortable living a "nontraditional" life. Nontraditional as far as feminine energy is concerned anyway. You may prefer live-in partners, or life partners, over traditional marriage. You could identify with being poly or something similar. You would love to travel and always seek to broaden your horizons. This is the type of person you would expect to have "summer homes." You could also decide to not have children or you would want to wait on having/adopting children. You love living authentically because of how freeing it is to just be you. You don't care what outsiders think of your life because you know you are doing what works best for you.

Advice: 3 of Swords, 5 of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, Queen of Wands (R). Bottom of deck is The Devil + Soil (Oracle)

To channel this DF energy more, you will need to master the art of not giving a shit. Some of you could be currently suppressing this energy. I really don't think its that far out of reach for all of you. Its just your fear that is keeping you trapped.

For some of you this trapped feeling is because you are in the closet. I am not telling you to come out because I don't know how that would impact your life. I want you to stay safe! However, maybe you can seek out queer friendly spaces. Or spaces that are supportive of whatever group you identify with.

There could also be a heartbreak that has left you questioning yourself. In the Tarot de Carlotydes, the 9 of swords is depicted as a woman chained in a dark room, with a flower in her hand and broken heart drawn on a piece of paper. I always see this card as being tortured over a disappointment. In this particular deck, I see as a mental prison that you feel trapped in because you are clinging to and rehashing an event. Holding onto this event keeps the pain fresh or recurring. It is time to release it.

Do not internalize other people's actions and shortcomings. It is not a reflection of you. You are who you decide to be. Do not dim your shine for anyone. Do not stunt your growth either. I'm not sure what it is that is holding you back but you have the potential to be the brightest star! You can be strong, and confident, and assertive. There is this little ball of power inside of you, that can grow if you allow it. Soil echoes the same message I am seeing in tarot. You must let yourself bloom:

The soil is a conduit of both growth and decay. Eyes forward, rooted to the past and reaching to the skies, she'll grow. Keywords: Balance, Forward, Growth, Duty, Building.

Some of you may use less than healthy tactics to cope. Maybe you should think of yourself like a plant. What are you fertilizing your soil with? What are you using for watering? Put the best in, get the best out.

TL;DR: Your DF energy is a L-E-A-D-E-R, okay?! She calls the shots in every area of her life. Some suitors are attracted to her because their immaturity is infatuated with her self-assured, mature energy. However, she prefers an equally strong partner at her side but this does not mean she wants to be led. No, she wants someone that respects her as an equal but allows her to take the lead. She lives life on her terms, loves on her terms, and does not care what anyone else thinks of that. She does have a soft spot but that is not for everyone. This nurturing energy could be channeled into working with children in some capacity. In order to step into this energy, you will have to untether yourself from insecurity and heartbreak. You already have this power inside of you, its only a matter of letting it grow. You don't have to deny what you have been through or the way it impacts you, but it also does not have to hold you back. Replace your unhealthy coping mechanisms with healthy ones.

As previously stated, I have a planned post that will expand on my views about feminine energy and other spiritual topics. I am really looking forward to sharing my thoughts and hope you all will chime in! I would love to start a discussion.

Until then ❤

~ K

#pick a card #intuitive readings #spirituality #tarot reading #oracle reading #pick a pile #tarot #oracle cards #tarot community #hecate #goddess lilith #dark feminine energy #spiritual awakening #shadow work #divine feminine #feminine energy

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yourlocalstranger123 · 2 years

Text

welcome to demon school! iruma kun

♥︎Yandere Asmodeus♥︎ × Reader

♥︎Yandere Iruma-kun♥︎ × Reader

♥︎Yandere Kirio♥︎ × Reader

◆Advanced apologies; sorry, some of the pictures I do not know◆

Bold is reader

1st important note; I know their age. But in this setting, the school is college. And all of them are high school age; 18 college age; 19

2nd Important note; if you want a gerne like angst, smut, etc. For a specific person, ask/request me.

A friend asked me to do this and also they didn't know their age so ima change the settings that they are 18-19 and the story plot a bit

!¡Warning⚠️!¡; a bit nwfs

Asmodeus

1 Manga 'welcome to demon school iruma kun

2 Tumblr artist: @cromahi

3 Danbooru artist: shigatsuchichi

4 ????

Setting; senior year, high-school

You two met before he was with Iruma - kun of course, he wanted to challenge you because rumor says you could be stronger than the demon king. You were stiff, but somehow he didn't land a hit at all! He even used a fire sword to attack you. You just maybe flicked his forehead and tripped him to make him lose.

Well, he may or may have not made a deal to be your devoted slave...well of course you declined but it was awkward when he kept following you around, getting what you needed or want. You were getting annoyed a bit. It was rather cute and nice to have someone to stick around, getting you what you want. He kept his distance too, but why is he keeping looking at you like that? An expression you have never seen before.

"...Asmodeus, come here." His eyes perked, it was the first time you asked him to come close to you! The only contact he and you had was handing over things. He was so grateful! If he had a tail, it would've been aggressively wagging right now. "Ah, yes master [name]? Do you need something— eek!" Was he....on your lap right now?! Oh no, he needs to calm down, his face is going bright red!

"First, call me by something casual like just my name, not some 'master' thing...second as I said, you can be casual. No need to be so stiff and lastly, I am grateful for your company. Truly, I am but I think I need you to—" he turned his body around to face you, hugging you. "N- no! I'm not gonna leave! I can do anything for you, no I will! So please don't leave me!"

He snuggles closer as you rub his back in circles. "I meant to say to maybe hang out with some other people."

"So..your not leaving me, right?"

"Yes. I promise"

It got a little better, although he still calls you master...you will just fix that later.

Setting; College

1 year later. Now you both are in the same school/college. Honestly, you didn't need to since you have already proved your capabilities. But he would cry if you didn't come with him. 'What? But you promised to stay with me!'

"Hey, did you hear? The old grandpa, grandson is coming here."

"Ah, yes master. I heard about it. Although, is he perhaps bothering you?"

"No, just curious. You know, having some new people to hang out with is pretty fun. Isn't it?"

*later*

You watched in the background as the student called 'Iruma' is fighting Asmodeus. You were surprised that Asmodeus lost. The good thing is that they became so-called 'friends' but the bad thing is he kept crying on his knees, apologizing that he lost. But you assured him it was fine. Back to the present...this moment with him is quite uhh..troublesome you would say.

Currently, Asmodeus is in his evil cycle. He had already told you about his true power but physically and mentally dealing with it? Uhm... how can I explain this. Iruma was apologetic to you since now you have a clingy demon snuggling you, and sending glares at anyone who looks at you besides Iruma. At least it was funny when you experimented on him with a random demon. Asking the demon to talk about you. It was quite amusing to see him go back to his normal self and then back to the evil cycle self.

Warning; slight nwfs!

"A- AhH! Hngh..t- too much! Please!" He doesn't even know what he's begging for. He moans as you played with his chest. Trying to grab something to keep him stable. You let him put his arms over your neck and his legs wrapped around your waist as he sits on your lap. You tried to pull back but he pulled you closer, whining at the loss of contact. He tugged your sleeve, quietly asking for more.

Hmm...Now, now. What are you gonna do? Hmm?

(If you actually want a full smut then comment and I'll make a part 2 specifically for this one)

Part 2 (smut)

Iruma–kun

1 manga

2 ????

3 Tumblr artist: @neeeee69

4 anime

When you heard of this student, you became interested....is he perhaps fierce, scary, menacing?

No. He was an absolute cutie. He looked absolutely different from what you thought he was to be. This guy defeated Asmodeus?

Hanging out with him, Asmodeus, and Clara was quite fun. Although you like to tease him by lifting him up in the air and calling him a shortie.

No offense to you short people :)

Although you always find yourself seeing him staring at you. At first, it was concerning. But later you thought he was just curious about you or something.

You confronted him about it. He was flustered to say at least, turns out he just wondered what hugging you feel like. You let him sit on your lap, snuggling onto your neck when you two are alone. He was always happy to have moments like this with you. When you heard that he learned how to use a bow, you wanted to learn it too. You have tried many kinds of weapons but not a bow. So he teaches you how to use it.

"Hey! I'm over here. I—"

He tripped on a rock while running, you caught him but didn't keep steady so you fell too. He opened his eyes and found himself on top of you.

"Sorry, I'm really am sorry! I didn't mean to."

He began panicking, you reassured him it was alright. Although it was cute seeing him flustered. He was even more flustered since he was so close to you when he was teaching you how to correctly hold a bow and shoot it.

When his evil cycle came, it was....ok. just some more private time than usual and more touchy too. And was he flirting? Surely not, he's too innocent. He just put a rose in your hair, and just called you beautiful/handsome/pretty

*later*

He pulled you down by the collar of your shirt. Kissing you, you were taken aback. Before you could even move away he slithered his arms to your waist, making you stay with him.

"Who said you could leave? Stay put."

He grabbed your hand, putting it on his chest. As your other hand, he kissed the palm of your hand. "Alright, I'll stay put. I'll make this enjoyable for us."

This is gonna be quite a night.

Part 2 (smut)

Kirio

1 manga

2 anime

You were in iruma group for the festival. You guys weren't really talking to each other that much but he began talking to you more when you two had to get some materials for the fireworks.

He was interesting, but you noticed his horns. You kinda wanted to touch them, when you asked him about it he agreed. Although you did notice that his horns were sensitive since he kept flinching and his breath hitched whenever you touch his horns. Maybe ruffle his hair too.

Although sometimes you see him staring at you. One time he began salivating, he apologized but you thought he must've been hungry so you gave him your food.

"Oh. Thank you for giving me your food." He was hungry for you.

Warning; slight nwfs

"HGNH! Wait— ahh~!"

"Oh dear. I didn't know you were such a masochist."

You grabbed his horn and pulled it as you bit his neck. He moaned, gripping the sheets. He couldn't take it anymore!

He tugged on your shirt.

"I want more...please.." he whined. Whimpering at the contact of pleasure.

What would you do? Hmm?

Edit; I'm sorry.....I JUST CAN'T ANYMORE. I FEEL ILLEGAL WRITING THIS 😭

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thatshappinessforme · 4 months

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When We Are Together - Pt. 1 (?)

omg...hi. i'm really here rn. posting this. at nearly 4 am on a monday morning. im nervous. i could vomit. so...this has been in my head for forever. literally. the idea is massive. it extends so far. it's seriously a whole universe in my little brain. it took so long to get the basis of this all out on paper, but, i'm hoping this is a series...a long one. the title isn't going to make much sense right now, but i pinky swear we'll get there eventually. so...without further ado...here she is...(EEK!) (also i have no idea how to set this post up so bear with me lol)

so i guess i just lost my fanfic writing vcard💌

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word count: 2.4k

cw: just a little swearing, maybe a bit of bad writing, also maybe typos?? might be a little boring because it’s mostly to just like set the scene idk? (eventually the plan is to have a lil smut or smth but this really is just an intro lol)

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The day starts as usual. You wake up to the sound of your alarm and your roommate’s hair dryer blaring through the thin walls of your Brooklyn walk-up. With a groan, you peel yourself out of the warmth of your bed, go to your desk, and open your laptop, holding onto a shred of delusional hope that one of your classes might be canceled for today; they rarely are…but you can’t blame a girl for being an optimist.

You scroll through your inbox, refreshing, and refreshing – you really don’t want to go to class today. Blame the essay you’d procrastinated that you’d spent all of last night speed-writing. Blame senioritis. Blame the unpaid music publicity internship that you’d been letting eat up your time in hopes of scoring a good job. Blame the frigid snow and ice that seem to be taunting you from outside your window. But, luckily it’s a Friday.

You refresh your inbox one last time, just for good measure. And, something actually comes in. But, it’s not from one of your professors. It’s from some company named “Dirty Hit.”

You raise an eyebrow and open the email, thinking it must be something related to one of the countless jobs you’ve applied for in the last few weeks, preparing for graduation at the end of the semester.

Y/N,

I’m a representative with one of our bands here at Dirty Hit. We’re really impressed with your work and have an opportunity we’d love to discuss with you, if you have a free moment this week at some point. Are you based out of New York? Get back to us when you can. We’re looking forward to hearing from you.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

“That’s weird,” you whisper to yourself, reading the short, ominous email over and over again. It’s not everyday that a label reaches out to a random college student to work with them. You’re not really sure what they could possibly be impressed with. You’ve just done minor PR internship work with underground bands from the east coast – that’s not exactly impressive. It sure as hell doesn’t warrant an email.

“Y/N?,” you hear one of your roommates and best friend, Vivian, call from outside your door before walking in, not bothering to knock. The two of you are close, almost like sisters at this point. In some ways, you’re exactly the same person, but in others your polar opposites. She’s a little bit more outgoing than you are, but she always helps to get you out of your shell. “Do you think I can get this guy I’m talking to into the venue tomorrow night? It’s just at The Soundwave, right?,” she asks, plopping down on the corner of your bed.

Shit. You completely forgot you signed up for an open mic tonight. You’d been playing your songs at small bars in Brooklyn and Manhattan for the past year or so. Songwriting had always been a bit of a hobby for you. So when you’re a broke college student in one of the most expensive cities in the world, you just find tricks to get you and your friends to do fun things for free. You’d learned a while back that performing at open mics usually meant you and your friends could get into bars and clubs without having to pay a cover, so you’d been spending your weekends doing that for a while. It’s all for fun. Sure, you like performing and put a lot into your songwriting, but pursuing it isn’t even quite a dream for you. You have an impending college degree you’ve worked your ass off for. In every sense of the word, music was a hobby for you.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. He might have to pay the cover, but it’s not like it’s the sort of thing where people buy tickets. You know the drill. But, obviously you’re my plus one, so no cover for you,” you nod, still staring at your laptop screen.

“What are you staring at, over there? Everything okay?,” she asks, getting up and moving to stand over your shoulder at your desk. You move your head a little so she can get a good look at the words on your screen. You watch her face as she reads the email, her lips dancing on each of the syllables as you watch her process it. “Dirty Hit? What the hell is that? Sounds like a porn company. Impressed with your work? Do you have a booming, secret OnlyFans I’m unaware of?,” she jokes.

I laugh and playfully nudge her arm. “No, no,” you giggle, “It’s a record label, I think. I’ve heard the name thrown around a few times at my internship. I think they’re kinda big.” You tab over and do a quick Google search. Immediately, a sea of popular artists and bands pop up under the label.

“Holy shit. Beabadoobee? Bleachers? The 19 fucking 75? I have their fuckin’ poster on my wall. They’re cool as shit,” she reads over your shoulder. “I mean, I have no idea what they could possibly want from me. My resumè isn’t all that impressive. Sure, I’m planning on going into music PR, but there’s no reason why I would stand out against someone who has like…an actual career under their belt,” you ramble, trying to make sense of the 67 words in haunting your inbox.

There’s a long pause, both of you trying aimlessly to make sense of the email. “Well, you’re gonna email them back, right?,” she eventually asks. You take breath, starting a reply to the email, leaving your cell phone number.

You try to focus on anything other than waiting for a reply. You do your best not to let your mind wander into the what-ifs, but as soon as you get done with your lectures for the day, you check your phone for any response.

Y/N,

Thanks for getting back to us so quickly. The band and management is also in New York for the next few months for a project. We would give you more information over email, but much of the matter is highly confidential. We have a studio space at Electric Lady in Greenwich Village that we could meet at, if that works for you. I know it is rather short notice, but could you meet this evening at some point? Let us know.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

You quickly reply to the email on your walk back from campus, confirming the meeting for later this evening. You get back to your apartment and practically tear apart your closet trying to figure out what the hell to wear. You know it’s a business meeting, but it’s also for some mystery band. You don’t want to dress unprofessionally, but you also don’t want to seem uptight. You decide on a black mini skirt with tights and a chunky black turtleneck sweater. You finish primping and step into Vivian’s room, practically out of breath from all the outfits you’ve tried on and scrapped.

“Okay, if you were a band looking for…a PR representative…? Would you hire me?,” you ask her, standing in front of her bed as she looks up from her phone. She looks you up and down and grins, “Of course I would, Y/N. You look great,” she reassures you, sensing you’re anxious, “So, you really think this is just a PR gig?”

“I mean, yeah. What else could it possibly be? It couldn’t be my music. I’m not even on any streaming platforms; I don’t promote it at all,” you say with certainty. She shrugs and smiles, before wishing you the best of luck as you head out the door.

You get on the subway and head to Electric Lady. The train has always been one of your favorite parts about living in New York for college. Putting your pink headphones on, looking out the window into the catacombs that stretch throughout the city, people watching. It’s where you did your best thinking.

You get off the train and walk through the streets, your headphones on and your music blasting, only interrupted occasionally by Google Maps telling you where to turn and such. Eventually the robotic voice in your ear says “Arrived” and you look over your right shoulder…here it is. You're right on time. You go to open the doors, pushing on them gently; must still be locked. You sigh, assuming that its to be expected. That this is simply upholding a prophecy of some sort that the band and music-industry-folk run behind…until you hear a laugh.

“It’s a pull,” you hear a man’s voice call out with a slight chuckle. From just those three words, you’ve determined that he has one of the thickest English accents you’d ever heard. You look over your left shoulder and see a man leaning up against the wall of the studio smoking a cigarette. “What?,” you ask, confused as you look over to him. He has a hood on and you can’t make out his face, or what he was trying to tell you. “The doors. It says right on them. ‘PULL,’” he chuckles, tossing his cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his Adidas sneaker, walking over to you. “Oh, um, thanks, I’m an idiot. I almost gave up,” you chuckle, pulling the door open this time. The man follows you into the studio, holding the door open once you tug on it. You look back over your shoulder to thank him for holding the door, the first time he’s been close enough for you to make out his face; Christ, it’s Matty Healy.

“I know who you are,” he says to you with a cheeky grin as he starts walking into the back of the studio. You just stand there near the doorway, the gust of cigarette-scented, cold January air lingering around you. You’re perplexed, to say the least. He keeps walking down the hall before finally turning over his shoulder, “You’re just gonna stand there? You have a meeting. Wouldn’t be very professional of you to stand us up,” he teases dryly. You blink a few times before nodding, following him, still in a bit of disbelief that this was the band that had some sort of ‘interest’ in you.

He shows you into a studio in the back. Once he opens the door, there are four other men sitting there, three that you also recognize from your roommate’s wall. The other, a bit older, more professional looking.

“Y/N! I’m Jamie, I manage these blokes. Thank you so much for agreeing to come meet with us today. I know everything was rather vague on the emails, but…we had to keep it that way. But, now that you’re here, let's talk, yeah? Are you familiar with The 1975?,” the older man asks you, in a super friendly manner as you sit down on a plush chair in the corner of the room. Every eye in the room is glued to you. The air is almost sticky with anticipation. You take a deep breath and try to slap on the most composed, thoughtful, professional smile you can manage.

“Um, yes! Of course,” you nod, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m actually a fan of you all. Really, I listen to your stuff with my friends – you’re fantastic.”

“Good, good. We’re glad to hear it,” he grins, looking around at the boys who also all look to be pleased. Even though everyone’s eyes are on you, you feel Matty's specifically, practically burning a hole in the side of your head as he stands, still leaning in the doorway.

“We’re impressed with you, Y/N. So, I’m just going to get on with it. George went to a little bar in Bushwick last month and sent us a video he took of you singing one of your originals…you’re bloody fantastic. We’re going on tour this summer. We want to do something a little different this time with our opener. We want to build someone from the ground up. You’re it. We want you. What do you say? You interested?,” he explains with a wide grin, his tone casual like he didn’t just tell you the craziest shit you’ve ever heard.

Jamie’s words hit you in slow motion. You look around the room, the air moving from feeling sticky to feeling ice cold, jolting you awake. “I’m sorry…what the actual fuck did you just say?,” you blurt out blankly, any ounce of composure you may have had completely gone.

You immediately catch yourself, your language, your lack of professionalism, though, “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I…that just came out of my mouth…I-,” your face goes bright red as you desperately try to correct yourself.

The room erupts in laughter, the men you recognize from Viv’s poster nearly barreling over off the sofa. Jamie’s jaw on the floor as he howls, slapping the table in front of him. You look over your shoulder to see that Matty’s still in the doorway, and he’s just standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, I think we’re gonna get along quite well with this one,” he remarks, licking his lips, weirdly impressed with your mispeakings.

You can’t help but sigh softly and shake your own head when he looks at you like that; something in you shifting as if he’s the only person in the room; as if he was the only person who'd ever laid eyes on you; as if he was the only person ever. As if, the offer you got just moments before wasn’t the most absurd thing that had ever happened to you. As if you didn’t need to thoroughly think this all over. As if you could make the decision right now.

You look back over to Jamie, who’s still chuckling. Before you can give yourself the time to overthink, you swing one of your legs over the other, lean back into the chair and smirk, “Jamie, where the hell do I sign?”

…and this is how it starts.

#matty healy #the 1975 #mattyhealy #still at their very best #the1975 #bfiafl #satvb #matty x reader #fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #writer #fanfiction

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weirdmarioenemies · 9 months

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Name: Red Malicious

Debut: Densetsu no Starfy 4

Happy Festive Friday! It is almost Christmas, and that means there are more colorful baubles hanging from trees in the world than there usually are! But we can't forget the reason for the season. The ORIGINAL colorful bulbous things dangling from tree branches. Their name, is "Fruit". And they are going to take the world by storm!

Specifically, let's talk about the fruit known as Apple. I like this fruit. I eat an apple with peanut butter every day! I love it! I recommend doing it too, if you are not allergic to either ingredient! An apple should not only be delicious, but also firm and crunchy. If it's soft at all, that's just uncomfortable! However, the firmness of an ideal apple means that they can also cause discomfort, if they were to bonk you on the head. Thank goodness apple trees are not sentient and rude, or else they might try to take advantage of that property...

Oh no. This apple tree DOES seem sentient and rude! Good thing trees are still not capable of rapid movement.

Eek! I spoke too soon! This tree is sentient, rude, and capable of rapid movement! And what a large apple that is! Thank goodness it isn't dangling from any branches. That is an apple I'm sure glad has no means of falling onto any unsuspecting heads.

Oh no! Egads! I was so unsuspecting, I did not suspect that this tree would be capable of shooting apples like a cannon! That's WORSE than being bonked by an apple falling from just a few feet above you! Wonderful for seed dispersal, though! This tree could spread its progeny like nobody's business!

Anyway now that you know what this tree does, it's time for the reason I wanted to post about it in the first place: its name! Red Malicious! That's an incredible name! Red Delicious is indeed an apple I would not like to be bonked by, due to its firm, tough skin. Since I have you as my captive audience, I would like to spread the truth about Red Delicious apples, if you did not already know...

They're terrible! Garbage! And they have the gall to call themselves delicious. Red Delicious WAS once a high quality apple variety, but that was long ago. Before grocery stores, when everyone got their apples straight from the farm. Red Delicious was not a lie! It was a name you could trust.

But then came the need for Marketability. Apples were being transported to grocery stores in large quantities. They had to make sure they wouldn't get damaged during shipment, and people wanted their apples to stand out, and really wow customers. They were selected for thick, tough, shiny red skin. A conventionally sexy apple, but talk to Red Delicious for a moment and you will find there is no substance! All this marketability, and at the cost of TASTE! You bite into the unpleasantly tough skin, and are rewarded with no flavor.

Now look at, for example, Gala apples! Such beautiful yellow stripes! And it turns out, the genes that control those stripes are linked to genes that control flavor! Red Delicious, with its monochromatic epidermis, is blatantly advertising its blandness.

But oh, what the heck! It's the season of giving! Red Delicious enjoyers, help yourselves! They're fresh from the branch, shiny and crunchy as can be!

I am just kidding, of course. I don't want you to eat ornaments. If you like Red Delicious, I may not understand you, but I respect you, and am fascinated by you. You are like a rarely studied microorganism!

#red malicious #red delicious #densetsu no starfy 4 #starfy #starfy enemies #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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imnameimswrld · 8 months

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╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐆𝐲𝐦 𝐁(𝐟)𝐫𝐨 || 𝗦𝗖 ꒱꒱

━━ ❪ . . . pt!changbin x aespa!reader ❫

━━ ❪ . . . description : long time friends, fans love the dynamic between yn and her personal trainer, but most are not all that shocked when they reveal a key part of their relationship ; ❫

━━ ❪ . . . smau ! , 3rd in the man series ❫

━━ ❪ . . . warnings: none ❫

━━ ❪ . . . fc: giselle ❫

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ynusername just added to their story !

[ caption 1 : the trained... ; caption 2 : the trainer... ]

somisomi0309

liked by jenaissante, katarinabluu, and 987 224 others

[ tagged : ynusername, jutdwae ]

somisomi0309 with my girl + binnie boy 😝

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user I'll never get over how stupid hot he is

user THE ULTIMATE TRIO

jutdwae what're we doing for cheat day tomorrow ???

⤿ somisomi0309 no idea, yn says she's gonna bake something, so we just gotta meet at hers

⤿ jutdwae she's...baking ? that terrifies me more than leg day.

⤿ ynusername hey ! I've been practicing.

⤿ jutdwae is that so ? when last have you baked something then ?

⤿ imwinter yesterday, and she triggered the fire alarm and served as charcoal cookies.

⤿ ynusername MINJEONG- that was a mistake. I'll do better tomorrow.

⤿ katarinabluu god help us 🙏

[ liked by imwinter, imnotningning ]

user lmao not yn constantly attempting to burn the dorm down

user wait... were those burnt brownies jeno showed in his vlog from yn !? 😭

⤿ ynusername he enjoyed, and finished every last one.

⤿ leejen_o_423 mhmmm, i sure did *gulps*

user PLS I CAN'T WITH THIS WHOLE COMMENT SECTION 🤣😭😭😭

ynusername

liked by jutdwae, somisomi0309, and 998 890 others

ynusername 👹 PROTEIN 👹

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user protein girl fr- WAIT !? SOFT LAUNCH

user karina was not kidding when she said yn loves protein 😭

user where are all the ynbin antis and jenyn stans now huh ?

user girl was tired of all the jenyn rumors fr 🤧

user YES MY YNBIN NO LONGER A PIPE DREAM PEOPLE

jutdwae excuse me, what's slide 4 ? last time i checked, it wasn't cheat day.

⤿ ynusername calm you biddies binne, it was ning's, I just wanted to take a cool pic with it

⤿ jutdwae that's...kinda sad ngl... come over, I'll make you some of that sugar-free cupcakes you like so much

⤿ ynusername EEK- 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

user THEY. ARE. EVERYTHING.

user it's ynbin's world and I'm just happily living in it

jutdwae

liked by imnotningning, imwinter, and 678 335 others

jutdwae october dump 💯

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user alright, where's my seo changbin ?

user GOD HE LOVES HER SO MUCH

⤿ jutdwae I do, I really, really do

[ liked by ynusername ]

ynusername slide 7 has me feeling some type of way 🥴

⤿ jutdwae aaalllllllll yours

imwinter bro came to our concerts just to steal all the food.

⤿ jutdwae I DID NOT – i am a avid MY

⤿ katarinabluu so the rack with puddings cleared itself out while we were all on stage ?

⤿ jutdwae it sure did.

⤿ imnotningning FREE PT SESSION !

⤿ ynusername ning you already get those 😭 !

⤿ jutdwae which you never attend, might i add.

⤿ imnotningning silence, food snatcher.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#kpop #stray kids #skz changbin #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz #changbin #seo changbin #3racha spearb #kpop smau #smau #stray kids scenarios

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codacheetah · 3 months

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5 for the isat ask game!

5 - What's your favorite optional event?

VERY TOUGH ONE TO ANSWER. I'm gonna go right ahead and disqualify twohats bc it's a predictable answer. If I had to choose just one though I think it'd probably be the sus event. It really got my goat on my first playthrough bc I didn't realize you had to do it in ACT 4. If I remember correctly I think sus is the only optional event locked to ACT 4??? Now that I've actually done it though I'm quite fond of it.

Sus event is one that you really have to go out of your way to do. It kind of reminds me of the True Ending in SASASAP but More and I'm sure that's intentional. Like the requirements for sus quest necessitate that you're going to do it, if not the loop before ACT 5, very soon before it. You have to know pretty much everything about Time Craft and Wish Craft already, so whatever you're doing in the loops now is basically taking out any optional stuff before you hit the end. You have to pretty thoroughly remember how the script goes just so you know all the best ways to break it. I feel like if the True Ending route is Loop going through the motions so many times that they can't deal with holding their facade together any longer, the sus route is Siffrin waving a big red flag around for help. There's just no way you're going to stumble into sus without preplanning what to do to rack up your points and make Odile aware of how Wish Craft works.

So I think it's interesting how much Siffrin pushes back against Odile trying to figure him out. It's a pattern of behavior that I am well aware of where you're desperately going "HELP ME" but you're not willing to accept it when it's offered to you.

Siffrin spends an entire loop screwing everything up, to a point that's frankly kind of egregious even by Late Stage Timeloopers standards, and then they can't reckon with the consequences of it. I don't think sus event is as intentional of a cry for help for Siffrin as it is the player, mind you. But I do think it's. Very tragic. Yeah of course "it's too late" in the sense that Siffrin's about to talk to Euphie and the whole journey will end, but moreso it's that by the time that Odile can piece together all the information necessary to figure Siffrin out, Siffrin is just far too deeply entrenched in his self hatred and fear of abandonment to be dug out. I think if Odile could somehow figure it out in, like, early ACT 3, or if Isabeau was just a bit more pushy in getting Siffrin to do a feelings talk, maybe they'd actually be able to reach Siffrin a little. But they're always just a little too late, every single time.

I think the fact that you start really getting a bunch of weird points in ACT 3 gives this event a lot of buildup. For potential dozens of loops you'll see Odile brush against the truth of the situation, and then just barely miss. By the time she figures it out, it's too late. Explodes

Expounded upon slightly more in tags bc I don't like typing in post bodies I feel like a fish on land. eek

#asks #ask game #ive been forgetting 2 tag my asks. smh #Sorry ocean that this took a while to answer i got lost in the sauce (rereading dialogue in rpgmaker)#i spent way too long writing this and i dont think i even touched on the guts of why this scene gets to me. tbh #it's just like. idk i've been there #doing shit not even really on purpose to kind of flag other people like Hey i'm doing bad #and then they're like hey are you doing bad and it's like. Oh fuck well now they know and they'll want me to die. i gotta get outta here #very relatable siffrin momence. never a good thing #like i realize that siffrin was literally like 'i don't think i want ur help' and then i kept calling their actions a cry for help #but like that's what it is. i can't read susquest as anything else. i don't think those two things contradict either #desire to be helped versus desire to not be perceived/not be a burden on others.#wanting help but not wanting to BE helped? does that make sense. am i saying words #it's like how loop wanted help so badly they lost everything in pursuit of it when all they had to do was be honest with their friends.#idk. kicks rock around #isat spoilers

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weretheones · 2 years

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All You Got | Part 6

Part 6: If You Must

Series Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: references to abuse, blood, injury, shock, vomit. A/N: eek I am very excited for you guys to read this one!! pls let me know ur thoughts <3

“House is clean.”

Run-down, old, and dirty. The only thing the single-story home was clean of was decomposing bodies, walking or not. Though, that was all that mattered, anyway.

The living room was quiet. A breeze of early autumn air blew through the open window just behind Daryl’s head. The couch cushioned him, neck stretched out as he leaned back. With whatever energy he had left, he still held the pad of a pillow casing against his left shoulder. But his eyes were low, his skin dull.

You hurried back to his side, taking a kneel beside his sprawled-out legs.

“Still bleeding?”

“Think it's stoppin’.”

“Good,” you sighed. You dug through the bag. “We still have some clean water and bandages.”

That was luck. The only bag you’d made it out of that station with— your bag— had most of the medical supplies, on account of your frequent use and all. Problem was, his bag had most of the food. Inside yours, the provisions weren’t much: a few protein bars, a snack-sized bag of chips, and two cans of food.

You pulled one of the cans out. He’d need it soon.

“How are you feeling?”

“Bout as good as I look,” he groaned.

You held out two ibuprofen. “Take these.”

Daryl’s eyes snapped between you and the pills, and he shook his head.

“Save ‘em.”

“You were shot. Take them.”

He was stubborn, but he didn’t seem so intimidating with that pale look.

“Daryl.”

He gave in with a sigh of his own. Took a swig of that half-full water bottle and popped them in his mouth.

You placed the bottle back down, then straightened yourself up.

“I gotta check it out.”

Daryl’s teeth dug into his cheek, timid eyes glancing over your easy expression, which seemed to counter him in every way. Hesitation took root. Daryl couldn’t stop it. Even after all these years, he’d never figured out how.

You hadn’t let it do the same to you. You were relatively calm, if not a bit tense about the prospect of digging a bullet out of him, but that anxiety hadn’t solidified in you as it had for him.

Something about your composure slowed the growth of those anxious roots, though. And after a noticeable moment of consideration, he nodded.

A moment that had you wondering how deep his pride went; oblivious of any other reason for his apprehension.

You unwrapped your sweater from his shoulder, then reached beyond the frayed edges of his shirt sleeves, where he’d ripped them off, it looked like. The second your fingers touched him, his muscles ignited and flinched.

Oddly, you flinched too, as if you could almost feel your skin burn him. Though your reaction was slight enough that maybe it could’ve been blamed it on nerves, if needed.

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d touched Daryl. No, the two of you broke that boundary the first day you met him and continued to break it every time he grabbed your hand running from the dead or helped wrap your leg. You were sure you afforded him the same gentle touch he’d done for you inside that pharmacy a week ago, and yet, he tensed as if you were about to dig your finger into his wound.

Sure you hadn’t touched like this, with you patching him up, but that didn’t seem to explain his uneasiness, either.

Slowly, you reached out again, and this time he managed to stay still long enough for you to peek underneath the sleeve of his shirt, trying to find the entry point of that bullet between the streams of red. A small, circular wound sat just below his collarbone, red and purple wrapped around it like a ring. Even from this admittedly awkward angle, it looked like the streaks of blood that had been dripping down his arm and side were dry. Relief swept over you at the sight of the wound, no longer leaking a fresh stream of crimson.

Daryl could read it on your face, but he seemed distracted; it didn’t do much to soothe him.

“I need to check for an exit wound.”

The brush of your fingers seemed to instruct him; he repositioned himself so that his back was better visible, even if hunched over, slightly. You climbed onto the couch and sat by his side to get a proper look at the back of his shoulder. The afternoon sunlight pouring in from the window behind guided you, a glimmer of gold landing on freshly bruised skin. It hit his back like a beacon, the warm beat of the sun seemed to make his discomfort double. Which made your brow furrow— you figured once you got through the initial flinch, he would calm, but the more of him you explored, the worse his trepidation got.

Your fingers reached out, even slower than before as you began to become downright distracted by his behaviour. Concern shifted into suspicion. This didn’t feel like a pride issue, not some holdout that he was fine and didn’t need your damn help. No, it felt like he was hiding something, you realized, as a pit deepened in your gut; what didn’t he want you to see?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t at the exit wound itself. He let you peel the edge of his shirt back barely an inch, just enough to see it. This hole was bigger than the first, with bits of frayed skin— like his shirt— from where the bullet had ripped through him. It couldn’t have been any bigger than a nine millimetre, Thank God.

“Looks like it went clean through.”

The bandages and water bottle sat next to you, ready to use.

“I’ll clean and wrap it as best as I can.” You dashed some water on a clean pad of gauze, and tried not to sound strained when you instructed, unsure of his reaction, “You gotta take off your shirt.”

Despite facing his back, you could see the stiffness take hold. His shoulders, even hunched and weak, tightened. Long hair hung in his face, hiding whatever expression he had, but his sudden shift in frame was enough to reveal his restraint.

“I just need this shoulder free. If you need help I can—“

“’S fine.”

You paused, swallowing down that lump of anxiety in your throat. You leaned forward an inch, taking a peek behind that curtain of dark chestnut bangs to glance across his face, wondering if you’d find anger or fear hidden beyond.

As if he could feel your eyes dig into him, his head snapped back.

“Can do it myself.”

Your expression softened, even if his was hard again; defensive, like he’d been all those days ago. The days that felt so much farther than they really were, that made you find comfort in a man you once thought hated you. Days that had encompassed so much that even when faced with that same look, almost as mean as that first day, you only felt concerned.

His hand reached out for the bandages.

“You can’t bandage it yourself, Daryl. You won’t be able to reach.”

For a moment, he seemed to ignore you. That, or he couldn’t even bare himself to look at you. His eyes narrowed on the damp pad of gauze in your hand and nothing else.

Your chin lowered, forcing him to catch your eye despite his tunnel vision. It wasn’t a shock to find his jaw sewn tight, or the taut line of his lips. Though, you hadn’t been expecting to find a glimpse of vulnerability hidden in the cracks of his rigid demeanour. He didn’t seem angry, and the fear across his features was only second to the humiliation staining dark blue eyes.

He was ashamed, not mad.

Softened into a whisper, you pleaded with him, “I just want to help.”

He turned away and nodded. Slow, barely there. It was a quick and silent crumble of his attitude; his intimidating glare slipped off you, right-hand lifting to undo the top buttons of his shirt, one by one.

You took the hesitant permission, nonetheless, gently pulling the fabric off. The shoulder of his shirt fell loose, and there was blood trailing down the side of his back, but that wasn’t what made you freeze.

Daryl had scars. Even in that relatively small expanse of his bare skin, only the upper left corner of his back, little ones were scattered. Thin white lines, some pink, marking different patterns. You couldn’t even guess what those were from— cuts that never fully healed? Then there were the big ones, the ones you didn’t even want to guess anything about.

It felt wrong.

Every inch of Daryl’s resistance made sense then. And hell, he deserved that. Not to be exposed raw to a woman he barely knew because it was either that or a nasty infection. Not to have her sat behind him, gawking at the thick, raised ridges across his shoulder.

So you didn’t— wouldn’t let yourself, even if you’d never seen that shade of reddish purple look so cruel before. You managed to hold back the gasp that was caught in your throat. Made sure that every breath you took was quiet, and not stark against the otherwise silent air. There was no certainty that any of it was the right thing to do, but it felt the least wrong.

A drop of blood was still wet, catching in the sunlight. You clenched your jaw and got to work cleaning the back of his shoulder.

And you didn’t say a word.

The silence that followed was tense. Only broken with the occasional gust of wind and Daryl’s small whimpers when you got too close to the wound, and he couldn’t bite his tongue anymore without taking the thing off.

Ten minutes later he was still pale. Maybe even more so than before. You grabbed a roll of gauze and started to wrap his shoulder. Since you’d cleared the house, your thoughts had been anything but subtle. Trying to think of something to say, something to do. But everything felt misguided; every ‘I’m sorry this happened to you’ or ‘are you okay?’ that came to mind felt disingenuous, like it was meant to make you comfortable, rather than him.

He was chewing on his thumb now, elbow propped on his knee as he sat still and let you work. He seemed okay, at first glance, but you were starting to understand that the mindless gnawing, whether it be at his thumb or cheek, meant he was falling deeper and deeper in thought.

That seemed to push you to speak; even if you still weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, it seemed a better choice than letting Daryl spiral further.

“You’re not scared of your own blood, are you?”

Daryl was silent for a moment, then seemed to choke out, “Jus’ tired.”

You nodded.

His voice got stronger and started to sound more like him, again. “Seen enough’a it to not be scared.”

It made sense, considering the scars.

But you wouldn’t bring that up.

“You get shot a lot?” you asked, instead.

“Only once ‘fore.”

“And hopefully not again.”

Daryl huffed at the quip. It was a sweet relief to that tension lingering over you two.

“Used to sell blood when I was a kid, though.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Merle made me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Merle?”

“My brother.”

Jesus. He did sound like an asshole.

You bit your tongue, again.

“Merle and Daryl…” you hummed.

Daryl filled in the blank, “Dixon.”

You paused.

“Daryl Dixon,” you repeated. “Suits you.”

He huffed at that, and sensing he didn’t want you to pry into anything related to his brother, or whatever other blood family he’d had, you asked another question.

“How’d you get shot the first time?”

“Accident.”

“And you got shot?”

“One’a our group thought I was a walker.”

You glanced down at him, realizing that he wasn’t joking when that serious expression didn’t slip. In fact, he had a small smirk on his lips, like he could read your mind.

A laugh bubbled up.

“Sorry,” you chuckled, “It’s just, had they ever seen a walker?”

He scoffed, “I wasn’t, uh, in the best’a shape when it happened.”

You gave him a questioning look.

“Had an arrow to the side, blood runnin’ down my chin, covered in mud. Dead man walking wasn’t too big’a leap.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“’S a long story.”

You continued to bandage his shoulder. It was better from him to stay awake and talking, so you shrugged. “We got time.”

Daryl went quiet. It was only then you realized that was another nerve.

“Unless you don’t want to—“

“It ain’t a happy story, neither,” he muttered your name at the end as if to soften the blow.

You gave him an understanding smile. “I got some of those too.”

Of course, he knew that. His eyes fell to the specs of blood on your cheek, uncertain if it was his or theirs.

A soft tension drifted into the room. It settled over that old couch; Daryl’s figure and you kneeling by his side. It smelt like that soap he’d given you this morning, if it’d been mixed with a hint of iron.

“Hey. I wanna thank ya for wha' ya did,” he mumbled. “It couldn’t’a been easy.”

It was a lot easier than you thought it’d be.

You looked down at your hands, vision foggy from the sudden swarm of guilt.

“It wasn’t hard, either.”

You remembered the first time you killed someone. That woman in the woods. The one who tried to kill you first. That was hard. Mitch and the others were different. You knew them. Knew the bad ran deep.

Irredeemable.

Sometimes, when you fell deep into that pit, you worried you might’ve been the same.

“Some of them were always bad. I get that now.”

“Still,” he mumbled, “shouldn’t’a had to do tha’.”

“I’ve done worse.”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Don’t make it right.”

That shut you up quickly. Halted amongst thoughts of guilt and regret. It was a fine line trying to keep yourself from slipping into that pit of self-doubt, and lately, it felt like you were losing grip of the edge.

Daryl’s unfiltered stare, heavy eyelids dropping low as he scanned your expression— the way you mindlessly bit your lip, the gloss of your eyes— seemed to narrow in on your cracks. That quiet look slipped through, just barely, but enough that it felt like there was a soft blanket wrapped around you. A slow, cautious warmth lifting you just an inch.

Just an inch.

Your eyes were still glass, thoughts still mean. Daryl could see through it, too.

He grumbled, “Ya gotta stop that.”

Your eyes focused again.

“Stop what?”

“Gettin' in your head. Spiralling. Don't do nothin’ but make ya upset.”

That warmth caught flame, it felt like. A slow burn of cynicism in your chest.

“You think you know my head?”

You were a damn hypocrite, scolding him like that.

“I know tha' look on your face,” he said. “I know ya beat yourself up ‘bout it every chance ya get.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

He blinked. You knew he would.

See? Hypocrite.

“When we were back in the station and they offered to take me in after they were gonna kill you…” dejected words paused, mouth still parted in thought. It was only when you finally looked away from the blood smeared across your fingers and met Daryl’s eye that you regained your voice. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“Wasn’t sure.”

You exhaled a heavy breath, asking the real question plaguing you.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed. Nonchalant in the lazy shrug he gave, but his eyes had a lingering tendency to betray his true feelings.

“You’re patching me up, ain’t ya?”

If it wasn’t for that look in his eye, a subtle hint of empathy lighting up those baby blues, you would’ve asked for a direct answer. But the vague proclamation was surprisingly satisfying; warmth bloomed inside you, though it wasn’t anything like that flicker of anger that caught, earlier.

“Did you think I was going to go with them?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, lips drawn in a tight line. “Ya didn’t.”

The last spark of that bitter flame seemed to simmer out, then.

“You’re right ‘ere.”

Reduced to ashes.

Maybe absentminded wasn’t the word. No, but something had shifted in your eyes. Made Daryl feel like you were looking at him with more appreciation than ever— and he’d saved your life before.

The way your hand reached up was careful enough that he managed to hold back the worse of his flinch. The soft pads of your fingers brushed along his forehead, collecting his bangs to the side. If it wasn’t for the way he blinked, awkward and a bit too quick, like something caught in his eye, you might’ve not even noticed what you were doing. Once you did, though, you paused, touch lingering before you had the wits to let your hand fall to your lap again. A blush crept up your neck, pooling at your cheeks, even after your timid eyes had fallen to your lap, too.

“How’s your head?” you excused, weakly.

“’S fine,” he cleared his throat. “Pills are helpin’.”

“Good. Let’s hope you don’t get a concussion.”

Daryl offered a small nod.

“Do you need me to check out your ribs or…?”

“‘M fine. Doesn’t feel like he broke anythin’.”

You gave a small smile, hoped that he wouldn't notice the way you wiped your suddenly sweaty palms along your jeans, then stood up.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat. You alright if I—?”

“Mhm.”

Without the worry of Daryl bleeding out, you took your time scavenging the house. Checking every drawer and cupboard you could find, paying special attention to the kitchen’s supply. The sole bag you had left was relatively empty of provisions— it put you on edge, especially since you had no idea how long it would take for Daryl’s wound to heal. With your hunter out of commission and every store you’d come across in this town raided to hell and back, this kitchen was the only hope between you and starvation.

You found a couple cans of tuna, corn, and a quarter-full bag of rice. Of course, you didn’t have much water to cook it in, so the tuna and corn had to make do, for the time being. You found two bowls in the cabinet, wiped them of dust, and split an unappetizing mixture of the two between them. One bowl was substantially fuller than the other.

It was something, but not nearly enough to settle that uneasy feeling in your gut. What you needed was Daryl’s bag, probably still sitting in the backlot of the gas station you’d fled just an hour ago.

“Here.”

He took the bowl you offered. Of course, it was the one piled high.

“How much ya havin’?”

You shrugged. “I’m fine. Not too hungry.”

Lie.

His glare flickered up to you, drawn in by that raise in your tone.

“Weren’t you the one tha’ insisted on sharin’?” He raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes, then curled into the far corner of the couch. “I said I’m fine.”

“I know wha’ ya sound like when ya lie.”

Your expression fell. So did his. He felt bad— you could tell now that the blood loss drained him of whatever energy he needed to keep up his typical facade.

“Gimme your bowl.”

He tossed some more into yours, and you bit back your protests.

It was as if he could hear them, anyway.

“Ya gotta eat, too,” he reasoned while he spilt the portions evenly.

That and the rumble in your stomach were convincing, enough.

Distracted by his injury, Daryl hadn’t had the chance to even think about food, water, or anything else. His tone lowered after he took a much-needed bite.

“How much we got left?”

“Not enough.”

You took a bite too.

“I might go back tomorrow. See if I can find your bag—“

“— No.”

You swallowed. “It’s not far.”

His stern gaze settled on you.

“It ain’t worth it, neither.”

“The herd could’ve moved on.”

“Don’t matter. They’d still be close.”

You held your breath. Daryl was solid in his position, not even your voice of reason was able to budge him.

“’S too risky.”

“Alright,” you muttered, but weren’t convinced.

—

Getting Daryl to the single bedroom on the opposite side of the home was manageable now. He followed you, even if his steps were a bit heavier than usual, and collapsed on the bed. It was old, probably as old as the floral curtains covering the window. Springs squeaked underneath his weight, but he found a spot that was comfortable for both his bruised body and wounded shoulder.

Not long after, he was finally sleeping, with a soft glow of evening light cascading through the windows. There was maybe an hour before sunset, you estimated. Standing by the doorway, keeping an eye on him, you stared at the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The seconds ticked by, then minutes, and you started to feel like you were invading on his rest. Disturbing his privacy for the second time, today. With quiet steps, you walked down that thin hallway back to the living room.

The house was locked up tight, windows sturdy enough, and curtains drawn. It was safe.

Something still gnawed at you, though.

Your eyes flickered to the already dwindling supplies piled beside the couch— your bed for the night.

The anxious feeling in your gut laid even heavier at the sight, and that was just about all you could take, anymore.

Screw it.

You stuffed that pistol with four bullets left into your back pocket, then slipped out the front door. The walk wasn’t too long anyway. Even though you’d been in the thick of panic when you'd first approached the home, the curve of the road was memorable. You were able to sneak your way back to the gas station without coming across a single walker— biter— whatever.

The herd had moved on, it seemed. Bloody footprints scattered the road, painting a trail from where the dead had come from and where they’d gone, after a feast. Birdsong caught in the breeze, the early autumn air carrying a new chill to it; the third winter of this world was approaching, which meant this probably wouldn’t be the last time you’d have to scour a dangerous spot for supplies.

If you were lucky, you wouldn't have to do it alone, though.

You walked across the road, quiet steps landing on those dark stains. The front door was still open, a brighter trail of red drops leading out, like a warning sign. The thought of Emily and Ross’ cold bodies lying inside, likely half-eaten, made your stomach turn.

There wasn’t much to grab in the store, anyway. Neither of them had bags on their backs, and the station had already been scavenged by you and Daryl. You stuck to the brick wall, instead, jogging down the side of the building until the backlot was visible again.

A scan of the area was supposed to settle that quickening pace of your heart; confirm that the herd had moved on, their attack a moment of the past.

The sight of no stray biters wasn’t a relief when the backside of the building was painted in dried blood and guts. Right in the centre of the massacre lay a body, or what was left of it. Back lying in a pool of dark red, left arm practically chewed off at the elbow, ribs cracked open and picked to the damn bone.

A chunk of his cheek was missing, but you knew those empty eyes.

You blinked once— twice— then stepped out into the empty lot.

Daryl’s bag sat where you’d left it. You slid it over your shoulders and tried not to think about Lee’s corpse behind you. The smell of early decomposition. His wide-eyed stare burning into your back.

It worked— for about ten steps, but then you were folded over and vomiting. Tuna and corn, mixed with whatever else you ate for dinner yesterday. You couldn't even remember, it felt like weeks ago. Burning bile lingered in your mouth even after you’d managed to catch your breath and stand up again.

A fresh amber coloured the sky. Clouds were smudged with mellow pinks and dark blues as the sun inched closer and closer to the horizon.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve and took another step. You got farther that time, though the journey back was muddled with the taste of vomit and that bright glow of orange ahead. It felt like a daze, like you weren’t even in control of your body. Steps just happened, one after the other, without a thought to guide them. You hadn’t registered that you’d been following that same irregular stone path back until your glazed eyes landed on Daryl.

You could see him through the window, pacing the room in a huff.

At first, he didn’t see you.

Though, when you moved onto the porch, he seemed to hear the creek of old wood underneath those dreamlike steps of yours. When you opened the front door, he was already in the hallway, bow hanging from his right hand.

Your eyes narrowed on it. You mumbled, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Where the hell were ya?” he snapped.

You ignored him. Not on purpose, at least you didn’t think so. But that bow was all you could pay attention to right now, how lifting it would strain him further, maybe make him bleed again. It wasn’t like you’d had the supplies to stitch him up properly— you weren't a doctor, just a girl with a roll of gauze and some wishful thinking.

“It’s too heavy, you’ll hurt yourself again.” You stepped forward and grabbed the bow from his grip.

He let you take it, but didn’t seem to calm down, either.

“You hearin’ me?” he huffed. “I thought I told ya to stay!”

You blinked, his aggression clearing a bit of the fog. The crossbow propped up against the wall, you turned to face him and shook your head.

“We needed the food,” you said matter of fact as the bag slipped off your shoulders.

Daryl’s narrow glare met your vacant eyes, in the brief moment you let it. The hollow look on your face seemed to worry him, and his demeanour shifted just as you turned into the kitchen.

He followed.

“What’s wrong with ya?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shakin’.”

You inhaled a slow breath as if it’d help stop the trembling of your fingers. They felt cold, almost numb. It was nothing more than an annoyance, you convinced yourself, as you started to unpack the bag.

That stare of his burned into you, sizzling at the cool sheet of sweat coating your skin. He watched you fill the counter with one can, then another, then a bottle of water, and so on. A feeling of dread weighed in Daryl’s gut, spreading through him as every second ticked by, even lodging in his throat.

“Did ya get bit?” he rasped.

That made you pause. You placed the last can down and looked up at him with a tired, displeased expression.

“No.”

“Scratched?”

“The herd was gone.”

Remnants of the fog started to burn then, prickling at the corner of your eyes. You turned your back to Daryl, heading back into the living room where all you wanted to do was collapse on that old couch and sleep for the next day.

He wouldn’t afford you the luxury; a heavy hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to face him again. The first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes— and really, once he’d seen them, it was hard to notice anything else. You were crying— he didn’t even know why, and yet that dreadful feeling in his stomach twisted into guilt. Maybe he should’ve left well enough alone, maybe then his heart wouldn’t be pounding against his ribs; it was a good thing he wasn’t still bleeding because it’d be pumping out of him even faster now.

But you’d shown him care and understanding every step of the way, so maybe he couldn’t let it rest, anyway. He owed you. Even if you didn’t seem to know it, he did.

Daryl had never been one for comfort, though.

“You’re cryin’,” he said pointlessly.

You took a step back, shaking his lingering hand off your shoulder. Your lips parted, eyes narrowed. A page from his book, it seemed.

“You asked me how many people I killed, right?” You drawled. Slow and calculated, like even the effort to speak was too much.

“It's five now.”

His expression fell.

“I have killed more people today than I did in the last two years. I’m tired, Daryl. I’m hungry and you’re hurt and—“

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I—“ you practically whimpered, “I just need to sleep.”

You did. Floorboards creaking under your exhausted steps, until you reached the couch.

His eyes lingered on the wooden cabinets behind where you’d been standing, long after you had left.

—

For all the fuss of the night before, morning came smoothly. The sun’s rays were lazy as they reached the trees surrounding the porch. One was brave enough to reach your foot, warming the bare patch of skin between your sock and jean cuff.

The porch swing was creaky, but you kind of liked the noise. A soft squeak amongst quiet birdsong carried in the breeze. It was better than whatever odd silence Daryl had fallen into. And the sight of the desolate gravel road, in all its eeriness, was better than those sympathetic looks he’d been giving you all morning.

You could feel his concern, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. Whether he wasn’t willing or able, you weren’t sure, but your bet was on the latter; Daryl’s comforts were often awkward and blunt, like how he’d been in the pharmacy, or when you talked about your brother. It didn’t seem to matter to him that his apprehension made his words, somehow, more endearing when you could tell he was stewing about what to say— the right thing. That, when he finally did speak, you didn't care matter much how it came out, not when he tended to them with that much care and consideration.

Knowing all that, dwelling on it between dreamless sleep during a long night on the couch, only made that guilt inside of you fester.

So when you felt that stare dig into you again, all you wanted to do was apologize.

Those two words hung in the air, I’m sorry, between you and Daryl. He was lingering by the front door, leaning on the opposite end of the porch railing with his left foot crossed in front of the other. His good arm reached back to grab the rail.

He shook his head, “‘S fine. Shouldn’t’a pushed ya.”

“You were worried.”

He gave you a shy smile, perking up just the corner of his mouth.

“I’m alright,” you said.

“Alright.”

“I am,” you reiterated, feeling that hesitant look he had stain you.

He nodded again, and your mask almost slipped away. Why was it so hard to put on that false bravado around him? You’d practiced your whole life, after all.

There was something about the way his stare burned into you that just felt raw, not necessarily in a negative way. It was just an innate knowledge that he saw past you, and could pick out every bit of you, good or bad.

Maybe it had something to do with that first day he found you, broken at your lowest point. It’d exposed you to him, bare, and no matter how hard you tried to hold that confidence, he already knew what was lying beneath.

You looked back to the road.

“I found Lee’s body.”

The porch creaked underneath his shifting weight.

“That’s why I— why I came back the way I was.”

You clenched your jaw and composed yourself.

“When Bri— the Governor said we had to attack, they were the first to volunteer. Emily, Mitch, Ross." You swallowed. "Lee… he was hardened, but I thought he could be kind. He tried to help me.”

“Wha’d ya mean?”

“He understood why I didn’t want to fight. The others always thought I didn’t know how.” You shook your head. “But he used to tell me how I could be tougher. Brave.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed.

“Tha’s bullshit.”

He stood up straight, lifting off the rail to take a step closer to you.

“Helluva lot harder to ask questions first.” He shook his head. “Tha’ ain’t weak at all.”

A breeze shifted by as you met his eye. He had his colour back, most of it at least, and seemed to be growing back into his typical self. Surly, strong, sweet.

“I was a dumbass before,” he muttered, with a soft, almost shy look about him. “Thought if I didn’t throw the first punch I’d already lost. Sure as hell didn’t think I needed anyone.”

His eyes flickered over your tepid expression, then fell to his hands in front of him, intertwined.

“Till I realized it was jus’ a buncha bullshit Merle taught me.”

The swing creaked when you stood up. Rusted hinges whining as you stepped in front of Daryl and carefully wrapped your arms around him. His muscles turned to stone under your touch, no matter how gentle it was, but he didn’t pull away, either.

You took a deep breath. Daryl smelt like the forest, sweet and earthy.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, cheek pressed to his chest.

He shrugged softly before you felt the rumble of his voice. The tickle of his breath in your hair.

“Jus’ the truth.”

-> part 7

A/N: I love this part sm and I hope u did too! the next few should be interesting-- I have soooo many ideas and plans but, as always, I'll see where the story takes me. were getting into the thick of it now mwahahah

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon / reader #daryl / reader #daryl / you #daryl x you #Daryl Dixon / you #Daryl Dixon x you #twd #twd fanfiction #Daryl Dixon series #all you got

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