#it unsettled many of the residents

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #18

[masterlist] [part two]

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If there was one thing Danny wasn't expecting when he ascended the ghostly throne, it was having to worry about a freaking line of succession. For one thing, he was under the impression the only reason he was the new ghost king at all was because he'd defeated Pariah Dark in single combat. For another, what did they expect him to do, find a nice ghost girl and settle down? He was fifteen, no way was he ready for that kind of commitment! Nevermind the fact none of us even know if being a halfa effects the ability to have kids, Danny thought grimly.

He'd brought all those points up with his advisors before, but the only one with any real advice he could actually use was Pandora. "You need an heir, but it doesn't have to be the same being the entire time. Be warned, however. Some obsessions fare better in royal positions than others do. Those with freedom related obsessions like your Ellie's would be driven mad within short order." Much more useful than Clockwork's cryptic words of, "Time is the wise King's friend."

After some deliberation and careful study of the Infinite Realms' bylaws and charters, he'd made Jazz his heir with Ellie the "spare" in case Jazz wasn't in a position to succeed Danny. This sort of solution was a stopgap one at best, but it would at least give him a few years, a decade at most, to figure out a more permanent solution. If Jazz's inherent liminality wasn't enough to satisfy the bylaws for more than a few years, then they'd switch Jazz with Ellie and have Ember take up "spare" status, but again, no one knew anything about this kind of situation, it was so new territory. Jazz might be able to give Danny ten years to figure out a more appropriate heir, or she won't be able to give him more than a few months. The variables were different enough from the norm in this situation that no one was happy with how things were at that point in time.

He really needed a better solution, though, and soon, because Ember's obsession wasn't any less freedom based than Ellie's was...

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Nearly five years after Danny's ascension to kinghood, the foundations of the Infinite Realms shifted ever so slightly, almost as though a mostly unstoppable force had tried its hand against an almost immovable object. Six months after that, Danny suddenly nearly collapsed in his applied physics class as he felt the creation of a new halfa. It was sudden, it was painful, and it was familiar. But the cry of a newly formed core, so perfectly in sync with his own, being brutalized nearly made his eyes flare green. Instantly, he knew exactly where this newborn halfa was (—halfway across the world—?), he knew exactly what was happening to them (—they're hitting him with tasers—!), and he knew that if he didn't get there as soon as possible, he'd lose something precious (—they'll ruin him, his obsession, his core—!). It was a good thing Jazz had been his emergency contact on file ever since she turned eighteen, she'd understand what he didn't say, what he couldn't say, over the phone.

Danny was excused from the rest of his classes for the day and his sister picked him up from his physics teacher's office.

"What do you need?" No nonsense, straight to the point. Jazz had grown a lot since his accident, since he became the king of an entire dimension.

Danny released an anxious breath. "I need the Infinity Map." Another breath. "And Frostbite. There's a new halfa, and he's being tortured as we speak." Just keep breathing. "His core cried out to my own, Jazz. From halfway across the world." Jazz's breath hitched at that, and he almost snorted. Exactly. Later. First, he had to save the kid, get him treatment, and deal with the idiots who dared play with things they didn't understand. Then he could deal with the fallout of him hearing the newborn halfa's cry. Deep breaths. That's it, just keep breathing.

"Do you have any more information than his location and current situation?" His sister was a blessing, truly.

"I have a name," he offered. Deep breaths, stay calm, just keep breathing. "Jason Todd." His core sang with protective fury, his obsession crying for blood. That was one of his that those assassins were trying to break. His son, that was his son.

Over my half dead body.

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So. What happens when you're so into a fanfic that you lose all track of time? Well, I end up frantically trying to write a ficlet in two hours that makes sense and doesn't leave too much hanging (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞdid I succeed?

I was originally going to use this prompt to continue one of my previous ficlets, but I also really wanted to write something new, so my muse fought me tooth and nail until I finally gave in (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) that's part of the reason why I'm writing ficlets instead of a full story this month lol I knew my muse was going to be fickle and wouldn't let me stick with one, or even two storylines lol it's happened before (⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠メ⁠)

Y'all rock, honestly. Like, I know I say that every day, but I genuinely mean it every day (^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

Have a good morning/day/night!

[psychicequalizer]

people on tiktok saying there’s nothing inhuman and strange in appalachia have clearly never spent time in appalachia like son watch your mouth

[cesium-sheep]

wikipedia being founded in 2001 does put my teachers’ strong feelings about its use for research in perspective. it’s a great place to start your research on just about anything, as while it is open source it is also peer reviewed and thoroughly cites its own sources for information, even though you should be checking and citing those sources rather than citing the wikipedia page directly if at all possible (if you’re in a position to need Actual Citations eg a research paper for school). but in 2006 or whatever it was essentially a nonentity on an academic timescale and we were still expected to look shit up in the physical paper book encyclopedias in the library (which sucked and was usually extremely sparse and out of date).

unrelatedly diane asked how we were doing with all the rain (fine, no downsides tbh)

[blackenedsnow]

unwanted(ish) company

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Reader

NOTE: New movie’s out! Really like how this turned out so I hope you enjoy!

SUMMARY: After foolishly summoning Beetlejuice, you're now stuck with the infamous ghost in your house. Good job!

PART 2: Here

You really needed to stop messing around with things you didn’t understand. At the time, it had seemed harmless enough—a bit of fun, something to distract you from the dull routine of life. The "summon a spirit" kit you'd bought as a joke had done more than give you a good laugh.

Because now Beetlejuice, the "ghost with the most," had taken up residence in your house, and getting rid of him wasn’t as simple as you’d hoped… you didn’t have the heart to do it.

“So, babe, what’s on the agenda today?” Beetlejuice asked as he sprawled across your couch, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He was dressed in his usual black-and-white striped suit.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Same thing as every day: trying to keep you from fucking up my house.”

Beetlejuice let out a loud cackle, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Oh, come on, where’s your sense of fun? You summoned me, so clearly, you wanted a little excitement in your life.” His grin was wide, sharp, and just a little unsettling.

Yeah, summoning him had definitely been a mistake.

To be fair, it had been an accident. You hadn’t really expected it to work. But one too many mispronounced “Betelgeuse”s later, and the next thing you knew, there was a strange man with wild hair and an even wilder personality wreaking havoc in your home.

And now, a month had gone by, and Beetlejuice was still here. You couldn’t bring yourself to banish him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t done anything too terrible. Annoying, yes. Gross, absolutely. But nothing truly malicious.

Or maybe it was because, in a twisted sort of way, you had grown used to his presence. The house felt less empty with him around, even if he was an obnoxious dead guy.

“Hey, Earth to you,” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back to reality. “You daydreaming about me or what?”

“No,” you replied flatly, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just thinking about how much better my life was before you.”

Beetlejuice clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch, babe, right in the ticker. You sure know how to hurt a guy.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from the couch, heading toward the kitchen. Beetlejuice, of course, followed right behind you, his boots making a faint thud on the floor with each step.

“You know,” he started, leaning against the counter and watching as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard, “you haven’t actually asked me to leave. You’ve had, what, a month? All you gotta do is say the word a few times.”

You paused, fingers tightening around the glass. He was right. You could have banished him by now. But you hadn’t. You hadn’t even tried.

“Well, you haven’t exactly made it easy,” you muttered, filling the glass with water. “And you never give me any space.”

“Space? What do you need space for, babe? I’m the life of the afterlife. I keep things interesting.”

Beetlejuice grinned at you again, but there was something behind it this time, something less cocky and more curious. He was testing you, as if he was trying to figure out why you hadn’t sent him back to wherever it was ghosts like him came from.

You drank your water, your back turned to him, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the room. You weren’t sure how to explain it—to him, to yourself. Sure, he was obnoxious, loud, and a bit of a creep, but there was something about having him around that kept the loneliness at bay.

“Don’t you get bored?” you asked suddenly, setting the glass down and turning to face him. “Just hanging around here, doing nothing?”

Beetlejuice chuckled and shrugged, the movement casual. “Eh, beats being stuck in the Netherworld, dealing with bureaucrats and dead people whining about unfinished business. At least here, I’ve got you to keep me company.”

He leaned in a little, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Not to mention, you’re way easier on the eyes than the dead folk.”

You groaned. “God, you’re such a creep.”

“Hey, just calling it like I see it, toots.”

There it was again—that nickname he kept throwing around, as if he was trying to get under your skin. Normally, it worked, but tonight… you just didn’t have the energy to fight it.

You were tired. But at the same time, the idea of being alone again—completely alone—was even more exhausting.

“Alright, fine,” you said, folding your arms and leaning back against the counter. “If you’re gonna stick around, at least try not to destroy the place while I’m asleep. Deal?”

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow, a slow grin creeping across his face. “Oh? You’re giving me permission to stay? That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit it.”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t say I wanted you here. I just said—”

“Relax, babe, I get it,” he interrupted, pushing off the counter and stepping closer to you. His voice dropped, that ever-present playful tone laced with something almost sincere. “You like having me around, don’tcha? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You looked up at him, trying to come up with a retort, but your words caught in your throat. There was something about the way he was looking at you—something less mocking, more… genuine?

“Don’t push it,” you muttered, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

Beetlejuice let out a soft chuckle and stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get all sentimental on me. But hey—if you ever want to, you know, really cut loose, you know where to find me.”

With that, he winked and disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing for reasons you didn’t quite understand.

You sighed, rubbing your temples again. Maybe you were losing it. After all, who else would tolerate a dead guy like Beetlejuice hanging around in their house?

But as you headed back toward the living room, the empty silence that had once filled your home didn’t feel quite as oppressive anymore.

[bet-on-me-13]

Stranded Danny AU

Danny gets pulled into a faraway Dimension by a Villain one day, just after the events of Phantom Planet. He is barely 15.

He has no way to get back, but he does manage to unlock the power to make Portals. Unfortunately, none of the dimensions he ends up in are his own, and none have enough Ectoplasm to open portals for very long. It takes up to a week to scrounge up enough Ecto to open a single Portal into the next dimension over.

And none of these worlds have Technology strong enough to take him home either. The few times he did find some tech that could potentially get him home, it never worked or it was destroyed before he could finish it.

He spends well over 30 years of his own Personal Timeline trying to get back to his home dimension, constantly gathering scraps of Ectoplasm and Tech until the day he eventually collected enough to build a safe way home.

But time does not pass the same across dimensions.

What to him was a 30 year long Journey, was actually just 10 for his home Dimension.

And they had to move on without him.

Sam became a Business Woman who used her money to fund Nature Preservation Organizations. She hired Pamela Isley and helped her through her powers when she became Poison Ivy (still a Villain, but secretly working for Sam)

Tucker got a high ranking job at Star Labs, and helped Cyborg come to terms with his new life when he became a cyborg. He even helped upgrade his tech a few times.

Jazz became a successful Psychiatrist, and now works under Daina Lance as one of the Justice League's top Therapists, specifically their Child Psychologist for young Heroes

Ellie took his place as a Hero and became the new protector of Amity after he dissappear. After the Justice League was formed, she joined them and became one of their best members, always working and nor really taking many breaks.

They always wondered what happened to Danny, and spent many years trying to figure out what happened to him, but never succeeded. They finally began to assume that he was fully dead after a few years of searching. They had enough time to come to terms with it.

...

So one night, while a 22 yr old Ellie is resting on one of her rare days off, she gets called in by the League about a possible Dimensional Breach near her Home Town. JLD was deployed to investigate, and she was asked to tag along since she was the Resident Hero of the area.

But she refuses, thinking it's just some random ghost trying to enter the Living Realm illegally after she began regulating the Portal. JLD would be able to handle it on their own, let her sleep on her day off!

Meanwhile, JLD has located the spot where the Dimensional Breach is about to appear. They surround the Area, and prepare to interrogate whoever is about to appear, or deal with them if need be.

Space begins to tear apart as the fabric of Reality breaks apart at the seams. And from that wound in existence, an Adult Danny steps out. He is 44 years old, and looks like a less buff version of Dan without the mustache (basically imagine Danny as Ford Pines from Gravity Falls)

The JLD can sense that he is strong, but not too much so. It feels like he is powerful, but like that power has been starved for a while.

"Who are you?" Asks Wonderwoman, ready to jump into battle if needed. "What are your intentions in this World?"

Danny ignores them. He is staring into the Night Sky, eyes wide. The Constellations he hadn't seen in 30 years were there. The stars were in the right locations. He takes a deep breath, tasting the amount of Ectoplasm in thr Air. This is it. He's home. He's finally home.

"Finally" He says breathlessly. A slightly manic Grin on his face.

"What the hell does that mean?" Demands Constantine. The grin had unsettled him, and he began preparing a few spells just to be sure.

Danny ignored him again, this time deciding to close his eyes and finally eat his fill of Ectoplasm for the first time in 30 years. He was ravenous, this was the first decent Meal of Ectoplasm he had been able to have in 30 years. He was giddy, he was so happy to finally be home.

However the Heroes didn't know what was happening. All they knew was that some guy had ripped a hole in reality, said "finally" with a crazy grin on his face, and started emitting a dangerous amount of Death Energy for no apparent reason.

Constantine reacts on impulse, trying to cast a Banishing Spell on this guy.

Danny, feeling the spell begin to pull him away from his home after he had just found it again after Thirty. Fucking. Years. Does something that he would consider reasonable.

He quickly dashes over to Constantine and slams him through a tree.

This sparks a fight between Danny and the JLD. And at first he is having some serious trouble, but as he continues to feed on Ectoplasm and recover his strength, he becomes progressively more Powerful. It comes to the point where the JLD can't keep up anymore, and call in Backup.

Ellie was enjoying her night off, but the desperate Call from JLD about a powerful Entity at the edge of Amity finally got her going.

She rushes over and slams into Danny just as he is about to attack Constantine again. Neither of them recognize eachother, since they have changed since they were kids (Danny moreso) and continue to Duke it out.

Ellie is trying to banter with him, but Danny is really angry at this point. So he resorts to his final attack, his Ghostly Wail.

He levels a good chuck of the Forest, and in the end he is standing over Ellie as his anger fades. He says "Sorry" and he starts taking a look around him to see if there is anybody else.

Ellie is on the ground, shaken because she recognized that power.

She gets up, and asks "Danny?"

Danny finally gets a good look at her and says, and says "Ellie?"

Meanwhile JLD still has ringing in their ears and thinks that Ellie just called Danny "Daddy"

(Which makes sense because of the new age difference)

[cherryrainn]

HEART'S HAND . (2)

; pairing ; husk x wife! reader

; note ; part 2 because many of you wanted one! (looking at people over on wattpad)

; warnings ; none

; part 1; here

the hotel hummed with its usual energy, but today there was an added sense of anticipation lingering in the air. husk had finally relented and agreed to introduce his wife to the rest of the hotel's eccentric residents.

as the door swung open, revealing you standing in the doorway, the room fell silent.

charlie was the first to break the silence, her warm smile welcoming the newcomer. "oh, welcome! you must be husk's wife. we've been dying to meet you!" and everyone else did the same

but it was alastor's presence that seemed to unsettle husk the most. as the radio demon approached with his trademark grin, husk's growl rumbled low in his throat, a clear warning to keep his distance.

alastor merely chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "ah, husker. always so protective of what's his." he turns to you "fear not, my dear, i mean you no harm. husk here has been quite the mystery, keeping you all to himself."

you chuckled nervously, sensing the tension. "well, he's a man of few words, but he's my man." you shot husk a reassuring glance before turning back to the others. "thank you for the warm welcome, everyone. i'm looking forward to getting to know each of you better!"

as the day at the hotel unfolded, you spent time getting to know each resident. from helping niffty in the kitchen to engaging in playful banter with angel dust, it was a whirlwind of introductions and laughter. however, as the day progressed, you couldn't help but notice that husk seemed a bit more on edge than usual.

in the afternoon, you found yourself gravitating towards the bar, where husk was drinking away.

you slid onto one of the barstools, watching as husk expertly mixed a cocktail without even looking up. his furrowed brow and tense shoulders didn't go unnoticed.

"rough day at the tables?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

husk sighed, setting the cocktail in front of you. "you could say that. some days, it feels like i'm the only one who knows how to play a decent hand."

you took a sip of the drink, feeling the warmth of the liquid as it coursed through you. "is something bothering you, husk?"

he glanced at you, his usual gruff expression softening just a fraction. "nah, just the usual nonsense."

you raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to it. "come on. i might be new around here, but i'm not blind. something's on your mind."

husk hesitated, his gaze flickering between your earnest expression and the polished wood of the bar. finally, he sighed, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "it's alastor. i've seen him do things, things that make me worry about you being around him."

your heart skipped a beat at his confession. taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it gently, offering silent reassurance. "i get it. but i'm not scared of alastor. besides, i've got you looking out for me, right?"

husk's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes softening with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "i'll always have your back, no matter what. just promise me you'll be careful, doll."

you nodded, returning his gaze with equal sincerity. "i promise. and thank you... for everything."

just as the atmosphere between you two became more relaxed, the door behind you swung open with a creak. startled, you both turned your heads to see angel dust sauntering in, a mischievous grin on his face.

"what's going on here?" angel dust teased, winking at both of you.

husk growled lowly, shooting a glare at the flamboyant spider demon. "what do you want?"

angel dust feigned innocence, batting his long eyelashes. "oh, nothing much. just wanted to check on my favorite feline and his playmate. looks like you two are getting cozy."

you blushed, feeling the need to defend the situation. "we're just talking, angel."

angel dust scoffed, clearly not believing you. "sure, sure. and i'm just a porn star." he gave husk a pointed look. "you're a lucky bastard, having a girl like her to keep you warm at night."

you felt your cheeks flush an even darker shade of crimson. husk seemed equally flustered, his ears twitching as he mumbled a half-hearted retort.

you cleared your throat, eager to change the subject. "uh, anyway. what brings you down here, angel?"

angel dust smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "i was wondering if the cat's got any milk. i could use a good drink after today."

you laughed, the tension easing between the three of you. "oh, trust me. he's got more than enough to go around."

husk shot you a look, his lips quirking into a small smile. "don't encourage him."

you grinned, playfully nudging husk. "oh, come on. let him have a little fun. besides, you can't deny it's nice having him around."

husk rolled his eyes, pouring a generous helping of liquor into a glass and sliding it across the counter to angel dust.

"whatever. just don't spill anything." husk grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching.

you smiled, grateful for husk's willingness to put up with angel dust's antics. the truth was, it was nice to have some company. 

as the night wore on, you found yourself growing tired. despite your efforts to stay awake, the alcohol had taken its toll, and your eyelids were beginning to droop.

"think i'll head off to bed. night, angel. night, husk." you stifled a yawn, giving them a sleepy smile before leaving the room.

the rest of the hotel was quiet as you padded down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath your feet. charlie's letting you stay here for as long as you want. what a nice girl, you made a mental note to thank her in the morning.

but as you turned a corner, you bumped into a figure in the shadows.

"i'm sorry, i-"

your eyes widened as the figure stepped into the light, revealing none other than the radio demon.

"ah, my dear! pardon me, i didn't expect to see anyone out and about at this hour." alastor smiled politely, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes.

you returned the smile, your heart racing in your chest. "no, no, it's fine. i'm sorry, i wasn't paying attention."

alastor waved a dismissive hand, his gaze drifting over your form. "say no more, darling. now, what are you doing up at such a late hour?"

you hesitated, unsure how to respond. "uh, just headed to bed. long day, ya know."

alastor hummed thoughtfully, his eyes glinting with something akin to amusement. "yes, i imagine it was. i do hope you've enjoyed your stay so far."

you nodded, hoping the movement didn't seem too stiff. "i have, thank you. the hotel is lovely."

there was a moment of silence, neither of you knowing what to say next. then, alastor's smile widened, his voice dropping an octave. "i'm glad to hear it, my dear. now, if you'll excuse me, i have matters to attend to. good night."

with that, he stepped around you and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

the interaction with alastor left you feeling unsettled, though you couldn't pinpoint why. with a sigh, you continued on your way, eager to put some distance between yourself and the radio demon. shaking off the odd feeling, you entered your room and closed the door behind you.

the soft glow of the dimly lit room welcomed you, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the refuge the hotel provided. you slipped out of your shoes and climbed into the inviting warmth of the bed.

just as you were starting to drift off, the door creaked open, and in walked husk. his disheveled appearance and half-lidded eyes suggested he had been enjoying a drink or two himself.

"couldn't sleep either, huh?" husk mumbled, his voice rough from the weariness of the day.

you nodded, patting the space next to you on the bed. "come on. it's more comfortable than the bar, i promise."

husk hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room before shuffling over and taking a seat. he didn't say anything, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

as you both lay there in the quiet darkness, the tension from the encounter with alastor slowly faded away. husk let out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he nestled closer to you.

"fuckin' hate that guy," husk grumbled, his words barely audible.

you chuckled softly, running your fingers through his fur. "really? i couldn't tell."

husk purred at the gentle touch, his gruff exterior melting away. 

with that, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the rhythmic purring of husk acting as a lullaby. as sleep began to claim you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of safety in the arms of the grumpy, yet surprisingly caring, avian cat demon.

[xwritingdixonx]

To Kiss or To Kill. | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: You and Daryl's relationship did not start kind. It did not begin as a friendship that turned sour over a quarrel. It began with fists and insults and continued this way until unforeseen circumstances leave you discovering that maybe Daryl and you were cut from the same cloth.

Warnings: rivals to lovers trope, daddy issues, language, descriptions of fights + bodily injuries, brief mentioning of homophobia, attempted SA, Reader is mentioned to be bisexual.

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison to Alexandria

A/n: This is not my proudest work and I definitely think I could've done better with the material but I hope it can still be enjoyed!

Song recommendations: Ultraviolence - Lana Del Ray, Daylight - David Kushner , Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

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A lemon is sour from the start and rots with age.

The relationship you shared with Daryl could be described as said lemon.

It was nearing the end of summer. And though this meant the end of scorching heat, the winter proved to be a difficult season for survival. This morning at the prison had begun like any other. Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn we’re set out on a run to find any supplies necessary for the growing community. With all the new folk after the fall of the Governor only a few weeks before, it put more pressure on the group in their endless searches.

The town in which the prison resided did not hold many options when it came to scavenging but there was one place not yet explored. Pike County High School, the only high school in the small town of Zebulon, Georgia. Daryl thought the plan was futile. What was he to find in a high school besides dusty textbooks and inappropriate drawings in the bathroom stalls?

But none the less, Rick sent the trio on their way with a list of items in hand.

The school was as Daryl expected. Papers were thrown about the floors. Windows were broken leaving glass shards to crunch underneath their boots. Desks and chairs were thrown about. And worst of all, there was an eeriness that loomed the chaotic halls. But there was something else hanging in the air, stillness.

Maggie banged her gun on the rusted lockers and waited for any walkers to make themselves known. But the silence that followed was so loud you could practically hear the wind gliding through the shattered windows. Daryl took it a step further and threw a chair down the hall, creating a loud clattering noise as it collided with the wall. Yet still, nothing.

"Alright," Glenn muttered, his uneasiness just as high as the others. "Let's get what we need and get the hell out." Glenn pulled the list from his pocket, "Daryl find the nurse's office, take whatever you find no matter how unimportant it seems. Rick asked us to find some good books for the kids." Glenn passed the list over to a very unamused Daryl.

"Guess I ain't smart enough to find some books."

Daryl walked the halls of the school, crossbow in hand, keeping his ears peeled for any movements that weren’t his own. The silence unsettled Daryl for two reasons. There could be someone residing here which would make sense with the absence of walkers. But he could not shake the thought that there were once children who roamed these halls. Kids who were Carl’s age now. Kids who were planning who they wanted to be, and what they wanted their lives to be. But now their dreams were just as grim as these empty halls.

He spotted it as his gaze wandered from the walls to the floor.

Droplets of deep red stained the tile, varying in size and opacity. Daryl dragged his fingers along the droplets, smearing the coagulated blood. The blood was not as dry as Daryl had hoped.

Daryl drew his bow closer to himself, resting his finger on the trigger, and slowing his steps as he followed the trail of crimson dots. They led him exactly where he needed to be, the nurse's office.

The wood door creaked open, the natural light from the windows lighting the room. The scene worsened in the room. There were now blood smears staining the floors, cabinets swung open and drawers left agape. Someone had obviously barged in in a hassle, with desperate need to help themselves.

What concerned Daryl was the adjoined room to the far left, he could not see into the area unless he approached it directly. Keeping his bow up, he proceeded. Just as the tip of his bow peeked its way around the corner, it was knocked from his hands with a single blow.

Daryl had not known what knocked his bow from his grasp but he sure as hell felt the hit to his jaw.

The punch you had thrown sent a throbbing through your right hand, and the tendons in your arm fizzled with the sudden force. The man reacted quickly, grabbing you by both arms and pulling you away from the wall you had been hidden behind.

You ripped an arm from his grasp quick enough to unsheathe the blade on your thigh. The struggle continued, both of you equally pulling at the other in an attempt for dominance while simultaneously avoiding the cut of the blade. Random objects clattered to the ground in the tussle, including an old coffee mug falling and shattering.

The wound you had acquired on your leg was not helpful in this situation. Had your adrenaline not been so high, you would have dropped long ago. While you struggled to keep yourself standing, Daryl was simply shocked at the brute force of the woman in his grasp.

You paused for a moment, your grip on your knife tightening until your knuckles turned white. Just then you were able to look at him. Daryl saw the determination in your eyes. And though there was determination, there also seemed to be a pleading.

But with one forceful shove, you fell back, your leg buckling under you and your head hitting a cabinet.

A painful gasp left you, feeling the poorly done stitches rip your wound open again. Dropping your knife, your shaking hands grasped at the wound on your thigh as you pulled your back up against the cabinets. Your chest heaved with a mixture of adrenaline and pain. The skin on your thigh seared hot, every nerve around the wound throbbing.

Had you been paying attention, you would’ve noticed the man grip up his bow that was now aimed at you. It gave him time to examine you. You did not look dirty and unkept as other survivors had. Your hair was pulled back into a messy braid at the back of your head. Clothes black, all the way down to your boots. Holsters for weapons hung from your hips and thighs. And a pair of dog tags dangled around your neck.

“Daryl!” Maggie and Glenn came rambling through the door, weapons drawn. Daryl held a hand up to them, signaling that he was fine. The school was not one of great size, it did not surprise Daryl that they’d heard the tussle.

With the arrival of two new faces, you made an attempt to grab the blade you’d drop. But Daryl was quick and kicked the blade away leaving your hand to smack against the tile floor. Now left with no weaponry and not even a stable body to defend yourself, you’d figured you’d start begging to them or praying to God.

“I-I just want to leave. I’m-“ The sudden sharp tingle in your thigh cut your words short. You clenched your jaw tight and shut your eyes waiting for the muscle spasm to pass. “You’re not going anywhere on that leg.” Maggie holstered her gun and met you on the floor. There was a hesitation to her but in her heart she knew leaving you would be a death sentence. “My daddy can help you.”

“Maggie…”

“Glenn.” Maggie’s tone was stern, sending her husband a threatening glare.

While Maggie began to ask you questions, she motioned for the two men to scavenge the room. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n…”

Maggie pulled a handkerchief from her back pocket, scooting even closer to you. She motioned for you to lift your leg, “I’m Maggie. That’s Glenn and then Daryl.” She slipped the fabric beneath it, tying it in a tight knot around your wound. You winced at this, resisting the urge to pull her hands off of you.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the question. Had you known you were meant to keep track, you would’ve started long ago. “I don’t…know…a lot?” Your words were stuttered and shaken considering the pain you felt. You saw the man you had just fought glance at you from the corner of his eye. You began to debate if you should feel guilt for attacking him.

“That’s okay,” Maggie gave you a kind smile, “How many people have you killed?” She watched your face falter and your eyes shift to the ground then back to her. “Eight, I think.” Maggie gently nodded, her tone becoming slightly more serious “Why?”

“I’ve been alone for a long time.”

Maggie’s eyes met yours and for a moment, while you held each other's gaze, there was an understanding. An understanding that only another woman could begin to fathom.

Your arrival at the prison was nothing short of chaotic. The run starting as three and returning as four, though a possibility, was not expected.

A man with a beard pulled Daryl aside beginning to hound him with questions, Maggie supported you as you stood while Glenn ran off shouting the name Hershel. Much of everything after that was blurry. You could remember the man with the white beard mainly due to his kindness and gentle touch while he took care of your wounds. And you remembered the name Rick being tossed about in conversation.

"Let her rest." Hershel patted Glenn on the shoulder, muttering him a thank you for his help.

You lay flat on your back, your head and leg propped up with a pillow. You could not say it was the comfiest bed you'd ever laid in. You weren't even sure it was cozier than where you slept the night before. You fought the tiredness away, unsure of falling asleep in an unfamiliar community. But the medicine Hershel gave you made you drowsy. And soon every muscle felt heavy and your eyelids heavier.

You were unsure of how long you'd slept, only being startled awakened by the clank of metal. Rick noticed his mistake immediately pulling his hand away from the door of the cell, now standing with a guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry. I forget how loud these things are." You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your beating heart. Rick entered the cell, opening the foldable chair Hershel had previously been sitting on.

"Was gonna drop these off for when ya woke up." Rick held up a glass of water and some type of protein bar. You adjusted yourself into a more proper sitting position, sending Rick a nod. As your mind awoke you became very conscious of your lack of pants, pulling the blanket farther up your waist. You were grateful that Ricks seemed to avert his eyes.

"I'm Rick.” His accent was noticeable.

“Y/n.” Just like your own.

“Maggie and Daryl told me a little bit about you but I wanted to speak with you directly.”

Rick held a certain type of authority to him. He spoke to you politely while still holding himself with dominance. A certain awkwardness became present when Rick spent a tad bit too long racking his brain for a question. “M’sorry about attacking, uhm… Daryl.” You decided to cut the awkwardness yourself.

To your surprise, Rick chuckled at your apology. “Please don’t apologize.” He looked at you, still with a smile on your face. “You were doing what you thought was right.” Rick shifted in the metal chair, resting his elbows atop his knees. "Did you serve?" Rick pointed to your neck, "Is that how you learned to fight?" You instinctively reached for the dog tags hanging from their chain.

"No no, they were my dads." You rubbed the smooth metal anxiously, feeling the indents of the letters and numbers imprinted. "I was an only child, only daughter at that, so my dad was rather protective of me... He had me in every boxing or self-defense class he could afford." A chuckle followed your words, reminiscing on the memory. Rick could understand your father's need to protect, having two children of his own.

"Rick." A gruff voice interrupted your conversation. The man named Daryl took up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, he seemed to falter under your gaze. He nudged his head in the opposite direction, asking for Rick to come with him. "Alright." Rick stood from the chair with an exasperated sigh, "Imma leave this right here for ya." Rick placed the water and protein bar on the chair in his place.

On his way out, he turned to you, "Maggie's gonna bring you up some clean clothes and help you get washed up. That alright?" His kind, yet tired, eyes sought an answer. You nodded and muttered a quiet thank you in return.

Your time in the prison since then could only be described as isolating. The injury on your leg kept you mostly restrained to the bed in your newly appointed cell. So, most of your time was spent with Maggie, Hershel, and occasionally Rick coming and going. Maggie cared for you in any way she could, nourishing you with food and assisting you in showering and changing. She had seemed to take a liking to you, as you did her, and you assumed you could now call her a friend.

However, there was another you don't think you could call much of anything.

Maggie helped you outside to the courtyard after you’d expressed that you were going mad looking at the same four walls. She’d left you with the book of Little Women, a blank leather journal, and a blue ink pen. “Holler if you need me, okay?” Maggie gently patted your shoulder before departing to meet Glenn only a few yards away.

Being outside after your imprisonment for the last 5 days, revived something in you. The heat from the sun's rays provided warmth on your skin but the cool breeze prevented you from overheating. You could not remember the last time you'd been outdoors without your head on a swivel or without the fear of being someone's dinner.

You could not focus on your book or your journal with the people who walked about the courtyard throwing glances your way. Everyone had heard about, the girl with the leg injury, with time. Random passers-by flashed you smiles, small waves, or even shy hello’s all of which you felt inclined to return.

“Y/n?” Though the voice was familiar, it did not stop the annoyance of having to put your pen down once again. You looked to the man, “Hi Rick.” Rick gleamed with a smile on his face “I’m glad to see you out here.”

Rick took it upon himself to take a seat at the table across from you making it obvious he desired to continue this conversation.

"Were you able to think about what we talked about?" Rick came by yesterday evening with a proposition for you. He invited you to join in with the group of people who went on runs for the community. Once you were fully healed, of course.

The only downside to this was who your main run partner was to be, Daryl. Rick saw something between you that you weren’t quite sure you saw yourself.

Daryl felt a wave of awkwardness standing behind Rick as he spoke to you. The same awkwardness he felt only a few days before standing in that doorway. Daryl knew of Rick's plans having been talked to about it only a few hours before.

He felt no need for a run partner. He was perfectly fine going about on his own but Rick thought the opposite.

What if something happens to you?

What if you get stuck somewhere?

We can’t afford to send search parties out for you.

All valid arguments from Rick. But Daryl had no desire to hear any of it. His stubbornness made him deaf.

Daryl could very clearly see you now. Whatever dirt and grime washed away revealed a remarkable woman. Your hair appeared soft and your dark eyes almost sparkled with the sun. He could see the definition of muscles on your biceps, highlighted by the short sleeves of your shirt. How you composed yourself screamed confidence as if you knew you were too pretty for a world so ugly.

And it infuriated him.

“Yeah, I uh...I wanna help any way I can.” Rick seemed pleased with your answer though the person behind him did not. You shifted in your seat, feeling Daryl’s eyes burn into you. In an attempt to redeem yourself, you spoke again, “If there’s anything I can do now, I want to.” Rick nodded at this, “We’ll find ya something.”

You could hear Daryl scoff from behind Rick. And though you tried to ignore it, you could not help the sour look you gave him in return. Daryl saw this as an invitation to continue his pronounced distaste.

“Don’t need someone who can’t walk holding me down.”

"Don't need someone who couldn't fight a girl holding me down."

Your response was quick-witted and more degrading to Daryl's masculinity than his insult to your injury. If you weren't mistaken, Daryl's eye twitched.

Rick stood from his seat to begin their exit, knowing the lengths of Daryl's temper. "You ain't nothing I couldn't handle." The chuckle you responded with and the glint of excitement in your eyes at the looming argument tested Daryl even more. "Sure, Daryl."

It was the first time you'd ever spoken his name to him. And he never stopped thinking of it for days to come. The way it rolled off your tongue and sounded with that southern twang. It left him restless at night and irritable during the day.

When your leg had healed and you'd grown tired of cleaning the library or serving daily meals, your first outing with Daryl was set. And it started just as rocky as it ended.

"Ya get bit, I ain't gonna hesitate to put a bullet in yer head."

"Why wait? I'm standing right here."

You remained quiet after that, not wanting to push the tension even more. But even the simplest of questions left Daryl huffing and puffing. It started with you asking how his morning was going. And it ended with you asking why he was such a prick.

It was a silent ride home.

You'd like to think you'd tried to find his good side in those beginning days but you soon began to question if such a thing even existed. Any time you were kind to him, he retaliated with anger. It brought out a certain type of frustration in you that you didn’t know was possible.

Within your time at the prison, you'd made yourself an esteemed part of the community. You used your [now useless] degree in agriculture to help build the gardens and begin the planting of any seeds you could find. Rick took a heavy trust in you and appointed you a seat on the prison council. And you'd shown your skills in scavenging, even when you had Daryl breathing down your neck.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when this whole charade started. Perhaps it had started in the nurse's office, in the courtyard, or on your first run together. But it did not matter where it began because there was one thing for sure, there seemed to be no end.

You both had a hold over another, in a way no one else did.

Daryl hated your confidence because he lacked his own. He hated that you were quick to go toe to toe with him. Because many others were too scared. He despised that you were so smart, a college graduate. And he especially hated when you spoke so highly of your father. Because he didn’t have a father to talk about at all.

But there was always a ting of something in all of his hate. Jealousy.

You hated his ego. You hated the fact that he contradicted everything you said. You hated when he called you names. Princess, he’d say or, miss college graduate. You hated that he never even tried to get to know you; to know that you weren’t this pretentious brat he painted you to be. Despite being with each other on a regular basis, there was a lacking of personal connection.

Neither of you truly knew the other. Where did he grow up? Has he ever broken any bones? What was his favorite candy as a child? When did he have his first drink?

Daryl pondered the same of you. Who taught you to braid your hair? You spoke of your father but never your mother, what happened to her? Why the dog tags? Have you ever loved another?

It was a day familiar to all the others. Your hot morning tea whirled about in your mug, your feet gliding gently around the grounds of the growing garden. After all your laborious hours in the Georgia heat, it was gratifying to see the various plants take bloom. Knowing there'd soon be a garden big enough to feed the community gave you satisfaction and perhaps a sliver of peace.

"You comin' or what?"

And there goes another blissful morning pissed down the drain.

Your long braid fell from your shoulder to your back when you looked at the disgruntled man. "We might need to find you a new mattress." You made your way to him, shoving your mug into his chest, "You can't ever seem to find a good side to wake up on." He scoffed, involuntarily taking your mug. The two of you, along with Michonne and Glenn, were set out on yet another run. Not one of great importance nor would it take that long of time but nonetheless it was still time spent around him.

Daryl followed behind you as you continued your way back to the prison, mug still in hand. "Michonne and Glenn are waitin' while yer staring at some fuckin' bushes." It was your turn to scoff, "They're not bushes. It's food. And a lot of fucking work."

Oh, Daryl knew how much work it had taken from you.

In the weeks he'd spent out in the gardens, his eyes worked more than his hands. He couldn't not look. You wore a tank top every day with the same black gardening gloves and dog tags dangling from your neck. The muscles in your biceps were always highlighted from the hours of digging. The blistering sun always had you drenched in sweat leaving your skin constantly glossy. Words couldn't describe the way he felt when it was dripping down your neck and into the crevice of your breast.

He was outraged for the entire three weeks.

"Whatever."

The mug in his hand became very apparent to him. "When the hell ya give me this?" He now strode beside you, approaching the car at the gates. You smiled to yourself, "A while ago."

Daryl would have preferred to ride his bike to avoid being trapped in such a confined space with you. But it was, “A waste of gas” as Rick would say.

You weren’t exactly sure what Daryl had done. But he had particularly did you in today. So greatly that you almost walked home. Glenn had to beg you to come back. Perhaps it was the way he glared at you that threw you over the edge. So cold and hostile. Or the way he stepped all over your feet, cutting you off mid-sentence, always thinking that he was right. You were simply always wrong.

This particular run would change the trajectory of your relationship forever. 

You and Daryl had split in the strip mall, deciding to cover more ground separately. The strip was usually overrun with a hoard of walkers but as of late, they seemed to be diminishing one at a time. It had become clear enough to begin digging at the stores it held. Some random clothing stores, liquor shops, a CVS pharmacy, and dead restaurants.

You were rummaging about the pharmacy, most of it already picked through. 

Examining the bottle of prenatal vitamins in your hand for Maggie, you heard footsteps. Thinking it was Daryl you spoke. "It's not like these expiration dates even matter anymore." Blind to your danger, you turned to face him.

Before you were given time to react to the two strange men, you were grabbed by the back of your neck, pulling at the nape of your hair, a blade held to the side of your throat. The bottle dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. You grasped the man's arm attempting to keep the blade from your skin but you'd failed; cuts appeared on the delicate skin.

"Stay." The other man reached for your gun belt, unholstering your weapon and keeping it for himself. You kept your calm but your eyes widened with fear. "Scream and you'll die." The short man with the knife moved it away from your throat, his hand freeing your neck. The other man, who had taken your gun, now had it pointed at you.

It was loaded. You knew because you were the one who'd loaded it that very morning.

"Ya can't just come into the place we've worked so hard to clean up and start taking things...we need some form of payment."

"I have my bag." You offered hoping they would merely steal your things and go. Slowly, not taking your eyes off them, you moved your pack off your back. "There's food and ammo and other supplies." Your bag was snatched from your hands with haste. "Thank you." It wasn't genuine, just taunting.

"But that's not what we want." Their eyes looked at you more hungry than any walker. Once you realize what they meant, tears begin to blur your vision. You could feel them begin to come closer to you. Feeling helpless and too stunned to cry out for Daryl, you weren't sure if you should start fighting or begging.

Daryl heard your continuous screeches from down the way, dropping his bag of clothing. "Y/n!" His feet carried him to you swiftly. You cried his name shoving one man off of you from your pinned spot against the shelves. It was foolish of Daryl to begin shooting so wildly.

Luckily you moved to the floor in avoidance of the bullets, covering your head and blocking your ears.

You kept yourself crouched on the ground, deaf to what was happening around you. Until a hand grabbed your bicep and hoisted you from the ground, "Come on, we gotta go." For once you were relieved to see Daryl.

But you wouldn't be for long.

"We shouldn't have split up!" Daryl shouted. He was walking too fast for you to keep up, as he did at times. You trailed behind him stumbling your way over the branches and leaves in an attempt to make it back to the road with his bike. "You always got stupid fuckin' ideas!" Daryl's adrenaline was still pumping, too ignorant to think of you. He muttered to himself, “Course there was people, walkers don’t just clear out by themselves.”

He marched onto the blacktop.

"Ya talk big game just to not do nothing to help yourself." Daryl was angrily throwing the green brush off his bike, removing it from its hidden spot in the treeline. "Always talkin' 'bout yer daddy and what he did for ya." Daryl said this more to himself but it didn’t fail to reach your ears.

"Well, where was he now yuh?" Daryl turned around to face you, his chest heaving. Only to catch you in the midst of buttoning your pants. Guilt dreaded him.

You didn't care to hear his insults. And you had no desire to get on that bike and be so close to him right now. 

"I.." Words couldn't find themselves in your mouth. All you could focus on was the way everything felt frozen yet moving at an intense speed at the same time. Daryl saw the way you struggled with yourself.  

There was a twisting pain within your chest as your panic only grew. "Y/n." Daryl put his frustrations aside, the situation becoming clear to him now. He swallowed down his pride and reached a hand out to you. Before his fingertips could even graise the fabric of your shirt, you took a step back. "No." You spoke gently, looking out to the woods instead of to Daryl; all you could fathom now was the desire to escape. 

"Y/n," Daryl repeated more soft, "We gotta go home." 

"I don't want to." You turned back to him abruptly. He could see the tears irritating your eyes. Where your hands lay across your chest, you could feel your rapid heart. 

"Why not?" Daryl couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to go home. It was safe, it was comfortable. Two things you desperately need right now.

"I can't, I…I can't get on the bike right now." Your frustration with yourself was growing. 

Why couldn't you just get on the bike? 

Why couldn't you breathe? 

Why didn't you listen to Daryl and not split up? 

Why was Daryl being so kind to you suddenly? Was it pity? You hated pity.

"Alright." Daryl watched the tears begin to roll down your cheeks. "We can walk, it's alright." There was no way of making it back to the prison on foot before sundown. Daryl knew this. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for you.

Daryl gripped the handles on his bike, walking the heavy machine down the road with you in tow. You were seemingly able to calm yourself down. The only thing remaining now was shame. You were embarrassed that Daryl had seen you so vulnerable. And you were even more embarrassed that he had to save you.

All the countless years felt wasted. All that time spent in the ring or on some thin gym mats. All those tireless nights where your father wouldn’t allow you to rest until you got one more. It was a phrase all too familiar.

You knew Daryl was annoyed having to walk, his huffs and buffs gave it away. The sun was beginning to set. "Daryl we can drive." You tried to persuade for the third time. "S'fine." 

"Daryl, it's getting dark." 

"S'fine!" He shouted back frustrated with the disappearing sun. You stopped in your tracks. "I know somewhere we can sleep."

You could hear the soft sounds of the water flowing down the river bed. The moon allowed a glow onto the water, gleaming with the current. Crickets and cicadas chirped in the night air like music to your ears. Despite the struggles of being in the wilderness alone, nights like this made you miss it. 

"What ya doin' over there?" Daryl asked sitting a few feet behind you at the fire. "Nothing."

You pushed yourself from the ground, making your way back to him. Daryl bitterly smoked his cigarette. You didn't need to ask to know why he was so irritated, you could already imagine. Perhaps catching the fish for dinner was what did it. Or the hundreds of pounds of metal he walked for miles. Or maybe he actually was mad about having to save you. Or the simple fact that he was stuck out here with you. 

You couldn't pick one.

No words were spoken, just the sounds of the wilderness and the crackling of the fire. It allowed you to think.

You began to wonder if you'd ever actually hated him. Because how could you hate someone you'd grown such an attachment to? How could you hate the person you screamed out for in your time of need? There were countless days where he'd anger you so much you thought you might actually strangle him. But somehow you always went right back. You always met him at the gates or stumbled upon him at breakfast. 

Staring off into the fire you began to accept that you all along had been trying [and presumably failing] to win him over. "You okay?" Your eyes looked from the fire to him. His cigarette no longer present, "M'fine." You replied. 

Daryl would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you. Just because he didn't care for you at times, didn't mean he doesn't care about you. "It happened a couple times out on the road. I could handle it then...I just..." You shifted where you sat, "Got surprised today was all." To hear this wasn't the first time but a time of many, gutted Daryl. 

You had become more afraid of encountering a man than a walker. 

Daryl was never angry with you. He was more angry with himself, unable to protect you from finding yourself in such a situation.

"Wasn't yer fault. M'sorry." Shockingly, Daryl's guilt overshined his ego.

You let out a deep sigh looking back out towards the water. You knew his apology was sincere but you couldn't find the courage to acknowledge it. "I was just thinking about how I miss it out here sometimes. The sounds, the views, the peace."

Your confidence and sharp tongue did not seem present at this moment. Looking back to him, he seemed completely entranced by this newfound gentle side of you. "But that's only one percent of it, isn't it?" Daryl never took his eyes off yours, the fire casting an orange glow within them. "Yeah."

The other ninety - nine percent was the actual survival. All the bloody fights. The permanent anxiety. The sleepless nights due to fear. The painful emptiness of your stomach. The constant blisters on your ankles [that never healed] from running or walking. And the unbearable hopelessness. 

"Were ya always alone?" Daryl had always been curious. You shook your head, "No." He nodded his head and looked away, leaving it at that. He had no desire to make your night even more miserable by talking about the ones you'd lost.

"It was just me and my brother for awhile."

"Meryl?" 

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows knowing he'd never mentioned him before. 

"Maggie's talked about him briefly." 

"All nice things?" Daryl asked sarcastically. 

"Not really." Your attempt to stifle your laugh was a failure, the smile lingering. But this did not anger Daryl the way you thought it would. Instead, he had his own small smile, scoffing and shaking his head. "He wasn't the best at times...but he was my brother ya know?"

You nodded muttering a, yeah. 

Daryl flicked the butt of his cigarette into the dying fire. Knowing this was the first and potentially last time you'd ever speak to another so tenderly again, you continued. 

"I was an only child. My mom died in childbirth when I was eight…so I never got siblings." 

"M'sorry."

"Don't." You didn't say it to be cruel. You grew up hearing sympathy after sympathy, you did not need anymore. "I was never alone though. I had my Dad. And my aunt and uncles helped take care of me so I was surrounded by my cousins all the time...I guess I did have siblings in a way." A nauseating wave of nostalgia rose in your throat, silencing you for a mere second. 

"My mom died when I was young too. 'Cept my Dad was just some drunk asshole, didn't care 'bout nobody but himself." Daryl couldn't deny his slight envy towards you. You grew up with a father who cared for you and your safety. It made him wonder how you'd ended up alone in the end.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't need yer apologies Y/n."

"I know."

The fire was no more. Only red hot embers burning on the rocky gravel. And it made you think that perhaps it was symbolic that the fire was slowly diminishing as your conversation grew more gentle. 

A few minutes of silence had passed before either of you spoke again. "Look at us, talking to each other, treating each other like human beings for once." You joked with a laugh in an effort to replace the depressing mood. 

You actually heard Daryl chuckle even though he lowered his head in an attempt to hide it. His eyes glanced at you, your own cheeky smile dimpling your cheeks. If this is what having a personal connection with Daryl was, it was dangerous.

Why did it take so long? 

Was what you wanted to scream at him.

I could've loved you if you'd just given me a chance. 

"Maybe we have more in common than we ever allowed." 

Daryl broke eye contact with you, staring down at the glowing embers, chewing on his bottom lip. And he did the only thing he ever learned how to do when he felt something. "Night Y/n." 

You didn't know why you expected anything different. 

"Goodnight Daryl." 

Daryl took his vest off, rolling it up and using it as a makeshift pillow. He turned away from you, his back tauntling in your face. 

You stayed up a little while after, too overwhelmed by thoughts to rest. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl could not rest either. In fact, he did not sleep that entire night, only allowing himself ten-minute naps here and there. The only sense of relaxation he felt was when he'd check over his shoulder and see you in blissful sleep. As if nothing and no one had ever touched you. 

When Rick asked what'd happened, Daryl lied. Saying you'd been outrun by a hoard and had to crash somewhere safe for the night. The days continued on, and what happened that day was not spoken of again. But there had come an understanding that Daryl and you were indeed, more in-common than ever allowed.

Patrick approached Daryl and you at breakfast as you mapped the run for the next morning. "H-hi!" Patrick greeted sheepishly, giving a small wave to the table. Maggie and Glenn greeted him first. Then you, pulling your attention away from the map on the table to him; giving a polite smile and nod. "Hey Patrick, everything okay?" Rick asked from where he sat beside Daryl. "Yeah..." Patrick was nervous on his feet, awkwardly pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "I wanted to ask Daryl and Y/n if I could join them out there?" 

There was suddenly a stiffness in the air. Glances were exchanged between the lot of you. "Patrick I-" Rick scratched his beard awkwardly, finding a response for the boy.  Patricks's confidence plummeted. He had spent hours building up the courage to ask, only to be met with stiff glances. 

"How old are you Patrick?" It was an odd question for you to ask but it did not come without reason. "Uhmm fifteen." 

You rose from your seat making your way over to him as gently as your feet would allow. Come, you spoke gently reaching an arm out to him. 

Patrick began to walk with you. 

"I was younger than you when my father began to enroll me in fighting classes…a short time after my mother died.”

Pausing your words, you continued your stroll until you stopped just before hitting the grass. "He told me that you could never be too young to be prepared for what the world was to through at you...What does that mean to a little girl who only wanted to play with her Barbies?"

Patrick listened to you intentively, entranced by the way you spoke.

Looking out to the green gardens, you seemed lost in thought for a second.  "I don't think your question is outrageous. I just don't think you're prepared." Patrick seemed to understand this answer more, nodding his head.

You knew the day would come when the prison folk grew tired of looking at the same walls and more curious about the world beyond. Especially the children. You'd seen the group of kids over by the fences, close enough to look at the walkers but far enough away for safety. It was often that they were scolded by the adults. 

"I know I’m not a fighter. I’m not like you or Daryl or even Carl. But I just wanna…” Patrick paused, “be brave for once.”

You couldn't help but smile at the innocence of the boy. 

"You can't go out there knowing nothing Patrick." He had finally begun to accept defeat but the long face and disappointed eyes tugged at your sympathy. 

"I can teach you. Just as my father taught me." Patrick's eyes lit up with hope. "Th-thank you Y/n." He gleamed with excitement, reaching a hand out to shake yours. You were truly at a loss of words with no choice but to shake it in return. 

You'd spent day after day out in the field with Patrick. You taught him how to block blows, how to hold and use daggers, and much more. He was skittish and shaky most days but he was trying. In place of your days with Patrick, you were skipping your usual days with Daryl. You truly hadn't thought he'd mind much. If anything, you assumed he'd be happy to finally have a break from you.

"I feel like this wouldn't hurt that bad." Patrick commented. Carl was punching the book Patrick held, having begun to invite himself to the practices. Thick index books were the closest thing you'd find to a punching bag. You chuckled, "It hurts more than you'd expect."

Daryl approached the three of you. You could hear his footsteps. You’d recognize them even in the dead of night. They were gentler than normal as if he wished to not disturb. "It hurts more if you have rings on." Patrick looked at you curiously, "Did you used to wear rings Y/n?" You nodded happily. "All the time.”

You turned to finally face Daryl. "Hey." You greeted, taking the last few steps to meet him. "Hi." Daryl looked about, chewing on his bottom lip. "You ain't been showing up for runs." It almost, almost, sounded as if this upset him. "I've been here," you motioned to the young boys, "You know that." 

Daryl nodded.

Of course he knew. He saw you every day, always wanting to come over and join but never allowing himself to. 

"You really serious 'bout all this?" Daryl nudged his head to Patrick and Carl. You let out a deep sigh. You asked yourself the same question. Was this serious? Did you really plan on taking a kid outside the gates? There was a chance this was all for nothing at all. But what you did know was that it kept your mind at peace and your days busy.

"I don't know. I thought we could at least take him down to the river. It's nice down there, it's not far, would get him outta here for a few hours." 

The river.

"Alright."

"Alright."

You sat alone at dinner that night, needing quiet time after hanging out with teenage boys for the majority of your day. You poked about your rice and veggies, still working on the copy of Little Women. "Hey." Daryl greeted. The day was growing late, the sun beginning to disappear from beneath the trees; he'd presumably just gotten back.

"Hi." You looked from your page, secretly happy he was giving you an excuse to put it down. Daryl's eyes looked anywhere but your own. "I-uh...got something for ya." Daryl dug into his front pocket, grabbing the handful of metal. He placed the rings on the table, making their own clattering noise together as they fell.

You seemed bewildered at this. "What...uh." Daryl chewed nervously on his thumb. He'd searched through this town and the next to find them for you, rummaging through old antique stores and dusty jewelry boxes. Picking out the ones he thought you’d like; which could mean nothing at all. “You didn't have to."

"S'fine." You nodded, the smile finally creeping it’s way to your features. "Thank you, Daryl." You were flattered. Flattered to think that for once, he'd actually listened to you. "Do you wanna go get dinner and come sit?" You offered.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

A certain closeness was growing. The arguments slowly became banter. And the war of dominance diminished. You began to work together as partners, mapping runs and brainstorming improvements for the prison. Instead of using your skills against each other, you’d began to find the perfect balance between.

Daryl joined you most days with Patrick. He found that he had no desire to go beyond the gates unless you were in tow.

There were moments when sheer frustration retook hold of you. But never did it reach the lengths as before. It came with reason, with a pleading, instead of merely arguing of who was right and who was wrong.

You turned the rings on your fingers about as you walked to the dining area outside. Daryl was a ways away, smoking his morning cigarette. “Morning.” You greeted, crossing your arms and taking your spot beside him. “Morning.”

The end of summer was near, mornings were chillier than usual but days still hot from the sun. There was a curtain of peace over this particular morning. The smell of Daryl’s cigarette filled your nose along with the morning dew. His presence comforted you. “I think it was around this time last year when you guys picked me up.”

Daryl blew the smoke from his lips, “Yeah, biggest mistake ever.” He joked. This earned a laugh from you. Daryl watched the joy on your face; it scrunched your eyes and accentuated the apples of your cheeks. “Yeah, I bet.”

He couldn’t take his eyes from you and a heaviness weighed within his chest. Because he knew, just as you did, that it was not only friendship lingering. It was more.

“I think I’m gonna go out, make sure the path to the river is clear.” Daryl knew what this insinuated. “We’re taking him out today?” Daryl had begun to hope that all of your time with Patrick was nothing, that it was merely something to fill up the days. “It feels like a peaceful day…” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Besides, Patrick’s not been feeling good, I doubt he’ll even want to go. It’s the effort that means something to him.”

Hmm, Daryl hummed. You nudged your elbow into him, “Keep an eye on him for me, okay?” Daryl hummed in response again. “D…” You nudged him again as if needing a more reassuring answer for your verbal contract. The nickname perked his ears and heated his cheeks. Looking to you, he nodded.

You gave him a thankful smile. “Be safe!” Daryl shouted to you as you began on your way.

Arriving back to the prison you could feel within your gut that something was wrong. The sympathetic eyes that Michonne greeted you with solidified this.

Daryl recognized your footsteps entering the cell block.

“What's happened?" Daryl rushed to stand in front of you, blocking your path. It was eerily silent. “Come on.” Daryl placed his hands on your shoulders trying to turn you away. You shoved his hands from you, slipping past him.

"Y/n.” Daryl could not stop you from continuing on. Your expression was stuck in a state of confusion and shock as your feet guided about the chaotic cell block. It smelled of metallic blood and bitterly sour. Almost as though you'd stuck your nose in a gaping infected wound. When you'd turned your head to glance into a cell, you saw him.

Patrick lay still on the ground, an arrow lodged in his skull. An airy gasp left you, clutching your hands to your chest. It was as if you couldn't take your eyes away. Your eyes still not yet communicating to your brain what you were looking at. But when it did, the only thing you could seem to focus on was the arrow. An arrow.

Daryl watched the realization settle on your features when you turned to him. For once, Daryl felt a sense of fear. And it only worsened when you began towards him. 

It was as quick as a breath. You unsheathed the dagger on your hip and aimed it at him. 

"Y/n no!" 

Daryl caught your wrists, the blade mere inches from his right eye. Though he stopped the blade, your brute force did not stop him from being shoved into the closest wall.  

"I told you to look out for him!" You yelled through your glassy eyes.

He had no words for you, pure guilt blocking any defense or insult.

"I had to." You scoffed at this, "I can't trust you to do anything." 

"Y/n it's not his fault. It was an accident." Rick reasoned with you.

With his back pressed against the wall, he had fully submitted himself to your wrath. His guilt would let you kill him now if you'd like. His hands around your wrist did not hurt nor squeeze to withhold your strength, they began to merely rest there.

Your rapid breathing began to slow to deep inhales and exhales, ones that moved your entire chest. Your eyes remained steady on his, the world drowning out around you. 

While his eyes showed remorse, yours burned with anger; eyebrows furrowed, hot tears slipping down your cheeks.

With one forceful shove, you ripped your arms from Daryl's grasp, his back bumping the cement wall. The dagger made a clattering noise to the floor, having been lost from your grasp in the process. You stood there for a moment looking to Daryl as if waiting for something.

"M'sorry."

His apology only seemed to anger you, your face once again turning hateful. You took a few steps back before making your exit.  

When time came to take care of the ones lost, you helped dig their graves; in defiance of everyone telling you not to. Your hands covered in splinters from the blistering wood of the shovel’s handle. The once thriving and growing prison become melancholy, a heavy cloud of sorrow always above.

You and Daryl had not spoken for days. You'd ditched any planned runs that had been scheduled. But without fail, Daryl waited every morning for you, on the off chance you'd join him again. And when you never did, he kept an eye on you from afar. 

You had become quiet and distant. He seemed to only find you chatting with Maggie or Glenn and on the off chance, Rick. You were on fence duty every day presumably taking out every bit of anger on those poor dead bastards.

You'd been out there day after day, nothing but water in your system, running off of pure spite and grief. You'd be out there till your adrenaline wore off and your body gave up on itself from exhaustion. If Daryl wasn't mistaken he had spotted you crying on some days; but that bloody pipe never left your hands.

You had begun to wake up earlier than Daryl, always managing to slip away from him just in time. You ignored him at every meal and walked by him as if he was a ghost. 

Daryl couldn't deny the itch of missing you. He longed for you to look at him again, to smile at him and call him names. He began to even miss when you yelled at him, as cruel and loud as you could be. 

Daryl couldn't continue on like this. You were torturing him.

He had awoken particularly early this day, ensuring he was in the kitchen long before you; knowing you never skipped your morning tea.

Exhaustion was all you could feel. Your body raged against your decisions every day. Your arms were sore, hands red and raw from gripping the damn pipe so hard. But you could not allow yourself to be around him. You couldn't stand to be trapped in those cells, indulged with pity.  

Wrapping the strap of the fingerless gloves around your wrist, you wandered into the kitchen. Glancing up, you saw him, stopping your steps. The kitchen was dark on this early morning, the sun not yet fully risen. 

Every thought Daryl had vanished from his mind. Every speech he'd rehearsed or apology left him in an instant. He hadn't known seeing you face to face, alone, would leave him so breathless. Daryl could see your exhaustion even in the dim light. Your usually neat braid had been done in haste, it was sloppy and hairs fell messily into your face. The constant emotional distress dragged on your features.  

"I had to see ya."

You crossed your arms over your chest, closing yourself off from him. "So you just waited for me here." Your tone was venom to him. Daryl swallowed sharply, second-guessing his actions. "Ya get yer tea every mornin'." It would be flattering to think he'd memorized your everyday routine if it was any other time. But you couldn't find that now. 

"Was gonna go out..."

He wasn't. Daryl would only go if you were in tow.

You scoffed at him. Had he truly gone through all this effort just to ask you to join him on a sleazy run? 

Your attitude hurt Daryl more than he'd like to admit. "Just wanted to see if ya wanted to come with me?"

You knew why he actually was here. Scratching the skin on your arm nervously, you said, "No Daryl." 

“Why the hell not?” Your mouth dropped agape. Astonished at his mere audacity. “Why not?” You repeated back. Daryl looked at you blankly. Should he apologize? Or should he begin his stubbornness rant about all the ways it wasn't his fault? You shook your head, "You're pathetic."

The fire was lit once again.

You'd insulted his ego and his efforts to meet you here. But most of all, you'd insulted any feelings he'd developed for you.

Daryl's face switched from hurt to a hateful glare in a second. You didn’t care to continue on with him, turning and disappearing into the hallway. Daryl’s anger took hold of him as he rushed after you. “M’pathetic?” He followed after you, stomping like a child.

You ignored him, continuing on, letting the door slam in his face when you exited outside. Daryl following suit in your path did not falter. Carol and Rick turned their attention to the commotion.

Daryl and you spewed insults at each other. You'd reached down in yourself, past the grief and guilt, and pulled any degrading thing you could manage to say to him. And he did the same. No words you said could possibly cut him as deeply as his actions cut you.

"I shoulda left ya out there!" 

"Yeah I wish you fucking would've..." You took a step closer to him. "But you couldn't because you fucking needed me." 

"I don't need you." 

"You fucking need me." You repeated. 

"Yeah? Then you need me!"

"I don't fucking need you! I never needed you."

Daryl lowered his tone, narrowing his eyes. He was mere inches from your face, your foreheads almost touching. “Ya didn't need me out there, hm?" He watched your furrowed eyebrows falter. Daryl knew he was crossing a line but couldn't find it in his heart to stop. "Where was yer daddy that day, yuh?"

Your glassy eyes looked up at him attempting to form your own degrading insult. "What? Say it, come on say it Y/n." He egged you on.

You only think about yourself, just like your father.

But you refrained, swallowing your words along with your tears. "Fuck you." Daryl watched you walk away, wiping at your face. "Fuck you!" Regret dreaded him. He watched as you continued on, your body shaking from a mixture of adrenaline and tears. He could have run after you then, apologies spewing from his mouth but his stubbornness kept him still.

The prison fell that same day.

Amid chaos and destruction, Daryl could only find himself to look for you. And when he finally accepted defeat, he could only pray that you'd made it out.

You had fled on your own. Fighting your way through to return to the comfort of the wilderness. After a few strenuous days on your own again, you'd found Carol and Tyreese; joining them with the girls. The blisters on your feet had returned as did the heaviness deep in your chest.

You thought about him more than you'd like to admit. And Carol did her part in reminding you of him on the daily. You'd begun to dwell on how you'd treated him in those final days. You’d denied yourself the comfort of his company. You urned for him to be gentle to you once again. To speak to you so deeply and sincerely as he had before. To comfort you amidst your grief. All the draining nights of crying yourself to dehydration, you desired for him to be there.

You’d never been hugged by Daryl but in your mind, his touch would’ve healed a thousand gaping wounds.

"I regret it deeply now." You'd say to Carol.

"I'm sure he feels the same." She'd respond.

A longing for your life to return as it was among those prison walls struck you down every hour of every day. The wish to go back to that morning and accept his offer. To take his hand and go beyond the walls. Maybe one more day together would’ve fixed everything. And you wouldn’t be left with the guilt of leaving things off on a bad note; never to see him again.

The smoke rose above the tree line, only making you more anxious. With Tyreese and Judith safely at the cabin, [or so you thought], you kept guard at the road. Keeping an eye for anyone making an escape.

Kill them if they weren’t one of us. Carol instructed.

But the sound of gunfire made you unsure of anyone’s survival. Fuck, you muttered to yourself out of frustration. You glanced constantly down the road and amongst the trees, hoping for a familiar face.

You turned your last surviving ring anxiously about your finger. A rustle in the woods grabbed your attention. You gripped your gun closely in your hands, stepping towards the tree line. When it was deemed clear, you continued on, your boots crunching on the leaves.

Your ears perked at a sudden snap of a twig. Whipping your body around, you pointed your gun.

Daryl aimed his bow to you, the tip of your weapons mere inches from the other. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were tired, his face bruised. But you couldn't say you looked any better.

Both your fingers lingered over your triggers, though neither of you would shoot. Daryl lowered his bow. Looking at you with teary eyes. You lowered your own weapon, looking to him with the same unsure gaze. There seemed to be a mutual understanding that neither of you had the energy to fight. Daryl wanted to reach out to you but the looming fear of rejection didn’t allow him. "Y/n?" Maggie snapped you from your daze. “Maggie?” You rushed to embrace her, discarding Daryl.

The weeks spent on the road proved to be difficult. Everyone grew more hopeless by the day and this hopelessness only grew when it became loss after loss. There was no time to heal from one loss before having to mourn another. First Bob, then Tyreese, and then Beth. You’d glued yourself to Maggie after Beth just as she did for you after Patrick.

Daryl mourned Beth in private. You wanted to be there for him, to provide him a shoulder to cry on. But he’d shut you out, just as you’d done to him. And besides, you never even tried, too focused on Maggie to consider it more than a thought.

You and Daryl had become strangers once again. There was no room for forgiveness, no time to spew apologies to each other, and no space to coddle each other through the pain.

Alexandria came to the suffering group, shining a new light of hope and a more secure future.

But this meant you could not hide from him anymore nor him you. The known could no longer be left unspoken.

You’d slipped away from the main house to the house next door that belonged to the group but was yet to be used. Daryl was first to notice your absence, asking where you’d gone so late. When he was told, the urge to follow after arose.

The front door was left unlocked, allowing Daryl entry. “Y/n?” The house was dimly lit, an amber glow looming from across the room. Daryl saw your figure sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. A liquor bottle sat atop the coffee table reading, Honey Whiskey, along with an empty glass seemingly for him. The other was in your hand, resting on your thigh. He couldn't help but think how perfectly you the liquor was; bitter yet soothing and sweet.

Daryl didn't know what told him to sit beside you but he did not resist the urge.

Nothing was said, the both of you staring off into the gas-lit flames. Your eyes studied the fake logs that were engulfed by flames, comparing it to how real wood burns. Daryl craved for you to speak to him. He didn't care if it was hurtful. Any words, cruel or no, were better than this silence. "Y/n..."

"I forgive you." Daryl went still. You hadn't given him time to breathe.

"What?"

Just then you turned, your freshly cleaned hair falling over your shoulder. The fire cast a glow on your features; highlighting the bridge of your nose and emoting a sparkle within your eyes.

“I said I forgive you.” It was the gentlest tone you’d ever spoken to him in, almost a whisper.

“I don’t think I had reason to be angry in the first place. I was just trying to blame someone that wasn’t myself.” You reached forward, popping the cap from the bottle and pouring Daryl a glass. You handed it to him, along with a slight smile. It tugged at his heart.

“M’sorry…bout what I said that day. 'Bout your Dad...Wasn’t right.” Daryl swirled the liquor about his glass, wondering where you’d found it. You took a deep breath before speaking on, “My daddy disowned me.”

The dog tags around your neck suddenly felt as though they weighed fifty pounds. It was a burden you carried around your neck every day, hoping the weight would be lifted lighter if you just spoke highly. "Why?" Daryl couldn't help but ask. You hesitated, your mouth gaping but no words following. "Because I loved a woman." You flashed Daryl an insecure smile, unsure of how he'd react. "I lost her about a month before you guys picked me up. That's why I was alone."

Daryl felt a whirlwind of emotions hit him at once.

How many times had he thrown your father in your face like some jealous brat?

“I think I resented ya a lot. Thinking ya had a father that rolled out the red carpet for you." Daryl had found his own courage in a now empty cup. You took note of this, pouring more for him. "I know, D."

"M'sorry."

"I know that too."

After that, a soft silence fills the room. The two of you sit peacefully, content with the weight slowly lifting from the shoulders of your friendship. But there was another topic to relive before you could truly sweep up all of the choked-off fragments and furnish them with conclusions.

“Patrick uh…”

“Ya don’t gotta talk about that Y/n.”

“No, I need to.”

The liquor wasn’t persuading you to talk nor to act a certain way, you’d barely drank any.

A deep sigh left you and you rested your back against the couch. “Patrick talked about his parents a lot. He said that his mom wanted him to be brave…That’s why he wanted to go out, he said that he felt like a coward. He’d always been safe in Woodbury then the prison.” Your words were quick and shaken.

Daryl listened attentively, taking sips of the whiskey in hopes it would calm his mind. “He thought that if he went out, even once, he would be brave… like us.” You motioned to you and Daryl. A smile rose on your face. “He also just really wanted to impress you, he was so excited when you started joining us in the mornings.” You took a sip from your own cup finding strength in the liquid.

“I know you always thought it was silly but…Patrick reminded me a lot of my cousin. He was my best friend until my aunt moved to a different state. I promised to keep in touch but I started college, got distracted, and only saw him on holidays.”

Your words trailed as if unsure of what was to be said.

“Until he jumped off a fucking overpass.” You could feel Daryl’s sympathetic eyes looking at you. “In his note, he said he knew he was a coward but he couldn’t be here anymore.” Your lip began to quiver but you quickly covered it with a swig of liquor. Daryl was left to think while you choked your tears down.

"They were brave." Daryl said in hopes it would relieve some of your guilt.

You placed your glass on the table beside the couch. "And dead they are." The tears could no longer be drowned in whiskey. You covered your face with your hands. Your body trembled violently, sobs racking your chest. Daryl put down his own glass. “C’mere…c’mere please.”

Daryl scooted closer to you, grasping for you to meet him halfway. You met him gladly.

You gripped your arms around him tighter, resting your head on his shoulder. A deep sigh of relief left both of you, melting into the other's embrace. “You’ve never hugged me before." You commented with sadness, your words mumbling against the fabric of his shirt; now wet with tears. "I know. M’sorry.” He could hold you all night if need be, to make up for all the nights he hadn’t.

He smelled of pine from the soap he'd used to wash. But the familiar scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke could never be washed from his skin. At first, it annoyed you. You'd complain that the oil gave you headaches and scold him about his unhealthy habit. But now, no four walls of any house could provide you the safety and comfort of Daryl's broad figure.

You pulled away from him but your hands did not leave him. They dragged down from his back to rest comfortably in his own. Your soft skin caressed his calloused hands. Your forehead rested against his. He did not remove himself from you but merely looked down, avoiding your gaze. "Ya been drinking a lot Y/n, ain't in the right mindset right now." You shook your head, "No Daryl...”

Your nose bumped his own as you scooped your head down, capturing his lips in yours. You taste of the bitterly sweet liquor, your lips still slightly damp from the tears that fell only moments ago. He resists before giving in to his longest desires. It made his nerves feel fuzzy. “I love you.” Your words mumbled against his lips.

The kiss turned from gentle to desirable in time, lips moving in sync together. His hands moved to either side of your face, ensuring to keep you close. You began to lay back, hoping Daryl would follow. He was quick too, ensuring his body weight did not crush you.

Needing a moment to breathe, you parted from him. Your back relaxed against the plush couch all your tense muscles turning to putty beneath him. Daryl's head fell to your chest. He felt your own heartbeat, just as quick as his own. "Love ya too."

Daryl's hands freely wondered you. He gripped your thighs, feeling the jagged scar on your thigh through the thin pajama pants; remembering the day you met. "I fell down a hill." Daryl stopped his lingering hands, "What?" There was a ting of a smile on your face. His eyes sparkled with admiration. "I was fighting a walker and I fell downhill. I think I got stabbed by a tree branch or my own knife, I never knew." You admitted shamefully. Daryl dropped his head to your chest again, chuckling.

His laughter sent vibrations through you, triggering a laugh of your own. You bring your hand to the back of his head, stroking his messy brown hair. “Why don’t you stay here with me tonight?” Daryl lifted his head, the fire dimly lighting the right side of his face. He nodded.

"I'd like that."

[lordprettyflackotara]

sharp fangs || sam golbach & colby brock

SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI. sam & colby are vampires teehee🙈 TW: BLOOD. THEY DRINK YOUR BLOOD. AS VAMPS DO. threesome and there’s a plot😛umm you get chased in the beginning but that’s about it for triggers i think. enjoy!🥰

part two is here

It wasn’t unusual for you to leave your apartment late at night for a bite to eat. After all, living in such a compact town everything was in walking distance. Not many places were open past midnight, the only one being a popular little grocery store. It sold mostly munchie snacks, perfect for night owls like you.

It wasn’t unusual for you to eat your snack on the way home. The streets were vacant of any sign of human life, the most attention you got being from a stray cat behind a trash can. You took any bite of your twinkie, admiring how quiet everything was. The silence was a nice change, considering in a few hours the sound of honking cars and people would ruin it.

What was unusual, was the feeling you were being watched.

Typically you weren’t a paranoid person and you felt generally safe about your short travels to the grocery store. You did this regularly, twinkies and all. But as you continued your walk home you felt unsettled, as if you were being observed from a far. You finished your twinkie, tossing the wrapper in a random trashcan before continuing home.

You glanced at your watch, figuring the lack of sleep was just affecting your brain.

That was until you heard footsteps.

Your face went white, your ears trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. You forced your feet to keep walking forward, afraid of what would happen if you stopped. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the footsteps were coming from behind you.

Following you.

You quickly turned around, only to reveal that absolutely no one was there.

You blinked a few times, looking around. Were you really that paranoid?

Sighing, you decided to take a different route to your apartment, just in case you were being followed. If it were some loser or serial killer, no one would go down the southeast dark alleyway. Its appearance was intimating and scary enough you figured it would scare your stalker away.

Despite its scary appearance to strangers, you had been down it several times. Walking the city every day forced you to know a short cut or two. You turned the corner, going down a few steps before continuing your journey home.

Your heart began to pound as you heard rustling. You couldn’t quite understand it, what was it you were exactly hearing? It sounded like movement, you could solely feel the presence of someone else being there. Nervously you looked around, your surroundings being limited. You were behind two different restaurants to the left and right of you.

It couldn’t have been an employee, both restaurants closed hours ago.

“Hello?” You called out.

Maybe it was a homeless person who started residing here and you were intruding.

“So she speaks.”

You whirled around to find who the words belonged to, yours eyes landing on a tall, dark man. His dark brown hair almost covered his eyes, his eyes a deep crimson red. He was dressed in all black, his jacket being leather. His fingers were dressed in silver rings, a silver chain hanging from his neck. He was much taller than you, his height alone intimating. Not to mention his eyes.

“Was starting to think you didn’t have vocal cords princess,” He said, snickering to himself.

Your eyes quickly darted to the exit of the alley, your feet moving you towards it for you.

Before you could blink your body was slammed into the brick wall behind you, knocking the air out of your lungs. You struggled to breathe, your eyes blinking a few times before they could settle on the man in front of you. He pressed you flat against the wall, leaning towards your neck.

“Get off of me, fuck off,” You said boldly, trying to sound as intimating as possible. You shivered in terror as you felt him inhale, smelling you. With his arms planted on either side of you, you had no where to go, forced to stay still.

“You smell, so fucking good,” He complimented. He leaned back, admiring your face this time. The smell of your blood alone was nauseatingly delicious, but your scent of fear was arousing. “I wonder if Sam will let me break the rules this one time,” He murmured. You shook with fear as he stroked your face, admiring how warm your soft skin was. His fingers were freezing to the touch, despite it being early fall, he felt like he had been in a blizzard.

“Let me go, I won’t tell anyone, really-” You began babbling, listing excuses. The brunette grinned devilishly, as if he enjoyed hearing your pleas.

“Colby what the fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes landed on a blonde man with similar crimson eyes who was standing on the roof, staring at the situation. You assumed this to be Sam, as you watched him jump from the roof to the ground with ease. It was easily a twenty foot jump, your mouth forming the shape of an O as he strode over to the both of you.

Sam looked a lot like Colby in terms of unusually pale skin and crimson eyes, additionally him being dressed in the same edgy biker clothing. His face was stern as he focused on Colby, his eyes not even glancing at you once. “Cmon dude, have you fucking smelled her?” Colby asked. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at him, holding you in the same trapped position.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as they began arguing, their voices sharp as knives. “Of course I can smell her, the wind doesn’t make my nostrils dull dude,” Sam argued. Colby grabbed your arm, hastily pulling you in front of Sam. The blonde was taller than you as well, both of them towering over you as they talked like you weren’t there.

“I don’t think you smelled her correctly the first time, do it again,” Colby growled. His growl was genuine, one that had emerged from the back of his throat. It was animalistic, your mouth running dry at the sound. These weren’t just weird cosplaying serial killers, they were something else. Something not human.

“It doesn’t matter what she smells like we have fucking morals. We don’t kill any mortals. You know the risk of what happens if we try to drink from them,” Sam debated. He still hadn’t glanced at you, acting as if you weren’t even there. Colby rolled his eyes. “Morals are great but when’s the last time you seriously smelled anything like her? Seriously, here,” Colby argued further. He pushed you into Sam’s chest, his body as hard as a rock.

For the first time Sam looked down at you, studying you intently. He could see the fear swirling in your eyes, your teeth practically clattering in terror. Sam didn’t want to admit it, but you did smell ridiculously good. Nothing like they had smelled in the past few hundred years. “I can see it on your face, you want her just as bad as I do. We can share,” Colby offered. You felt frozen, neither of them physically constricting you but your body still planted in place.

Every fiber in you was screaming to run, Sam’s unusual crimson eyes not helping console any of your horror.

“No dude, that’s final,” Sam said finally. He pushed you towards the exit of the alleyway. “Get out of here, don’t come back,” He ordered. As you began to quickly walk away, you felt a large hand grip your arm. “You may not want her but I do, and i’ll have her,” Colby snarled. You gasped as you tried to pull away desperately, his hands locked around your arm. Before you could process it Sam was standing between you, removing Colby’s hand from you.

“I said no, get a fucking grip,” Sam growled.

You began slowly backing away, watching as Colby pushed Sam. His shove resulted in Sam flying into one of the many brick walls, the bricks crumbling around him as he stood up. Before Colby could reach you Sam was on him, grabbing his arm and pinning it behind his back. He tripped him, both of them landing on the ground. You stood terrified as Colby was pinned down, baring what looked like a set of fangs as he desperately tried to reach you.

“Did you not hear me? Get out of here!”

Sam’s voice snapped you out of your hypnotic state, your feet carrying you as far away from the alley as they possibly could.

\/

You couldn’t get the image of Colby’s fangs out of your head. Both of them were scary and ominous, sure. But the look of pure hunger, pure desperation, haunted you. Nightmares ensued nights after you had escaped the duo, your mind plagued with fearful thoughts. You couldn’t explain what you saw, the idea of someone being thrown into a brick wall and breaking the wall being impossible.

It had distracted you from your job and college work, you even stopped leaving the house. You were scared you’d run into them again, somehow someway. Sam didn’t seem too terrible, but you knew he was the same monster Colby was.

Your sleep schedule was backwards at this point, your mind afraid to allow you to relax as soon as the sun went down. You felt like you were going insane, your mind finally allowing you to sleep once it became dawn. You had become a recluse, one who avoided anyone who tried to talk to you.

It was right before midnight as you lounged in your living room, mindlessly channel surfing. During the night you longed to cure your never ending boredom, your paranoid mind insisting on you being wide awake.

Knock knock.

You jumped at the sudden sound, your body shifting uncomfortably as you forced yourself to sit up. You scrambled to your living room side table, digging through the drawer for any weapon of self defense. You found an old can of pepper spray from when you were regularly dating. Awkwardly you shook it, putting it up to your ear to hear if there was anything even in there. Was it expired? Maybe.

It wasn’t like you to avoid your problems, and you most certainly were not going to start now. Deciding that if it was expired it would only make it worse for your victim, you stood up. Tip toeing over to your apartment door you peaked through the peep hole, attempting to see who your visitor was. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the hallway was empty.

Gripping the pepper spray you opened the front door, Sam and Colby standing at your doorstep. Your mind took a couple of seconds to process their presence, Sam awkwardly waving. You raised the can of pepper spray.

“Wait wait wait we’re here to apologize-”

Aiming at Colby’s face you pulled the trigger, a stream of red liquid shooting out of the can. You used all that was in the can, throwing it at his face before promptly shutting the door. Your fingers shook as you locked the door, pressing your body weight against it so they wouldn’t break the door down. You swallowed hard as you looked through the peep hole again, not seeing either of them.

You sighed in relief, hoping they just went away.

You had showed them just who they were messing with. Even if you were only human.

Making your way back to your couch, you plopped back down on the cushion, searching for a decent show to watch. Maybe your brain would finally let you get some decent rest now that-

Tap tap.

Your eyes slowly shifted over to your living room window, your dark curtains restricting your view from the outside world.

There was no way-

Surely they couldn’t-

You boldly yanked the curtains open, revealing Sam. You stared blankly at him as he hung from your window. Your apartment was on the sixth floor, the blonde hanging onto the ledge of your window. Colby didn’t seem to be in sight, Sam awkwardly waving to get your attention. Slowly you pried open the window, glaring at Sam.

“What the fuck do you want?” You spat. Sam climbed up a little further, propping himself up with his arms on the concrete window ledge. “We came here to apologize, Colby specifically,” He said calmly. It was as if he was trying to trace his words carefully, like he was walking on eggshells. “And why would I want to hear an apology from either of you? Just go away!” You argued.

“I thought you said humans like apologies?” Colby called from the outside of your front door. Sam rolled his eyes, sighing. “They do dude just give me a second!” Sam yelled back. Your mind felt like it was spinning, trying to process the supernatural being hanging out of your window. Sam’s gaze returned back to you, his crimson eyes borderline hypnotic. “Not to be invasive but we know you haven’t been sleeping and are on the verge of losing your job. We didn’t intend to fuck up your entire life. If you give me permission to come in I can explain,” Sam said. Your eyebrows raised at his words. Were they actually stalking you?

You tilted your head to the side. “You need my permission to come in? As if you can’t break my window or door down?” You questioned. Was he really giving you bullshit formalities? Sam sighed. “It’s just sort of how it works for us. We can’t enter anyone’s home unless they give us permission,” Sam explained. Noticing your doubtful facial expression he added, “You can of course just start with me.”

As much as it pained you to admit to yourself, you wanted answers before you wanted them to go away. “Fine, but only you can come in. Not Colby,” You agreed. Sam slid into your apartment with ease, visibly stretching his legs as he stood up fully. “Oh cmon!” Colby groaned from the hallway. His displeasure made you giggle, even if the situation didn’t call for it.

“Firstly I just want to say the pepper spray attack was hilarious, thanks for the good laugh,” Sam complimented. Defensively you walked into your kitchen, your kitchen island keeping you at a safe distance away. You raised your eyebrows, signaling Sam to get on with it. He cleared his throat, his eyes solely focused on you.

“We are, very obviously, vampires,” Sam began. He was waiting for you to freak out. To scream or cry or something. Instead you stood freakishly still, your arms crossed as you waited for him to continue. “We usually don’t drink from humans, we steal blood bags from the blood bank down the street or at the hospital,” He continued. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Great so you steal blood from those in need, fantastic, what’s your point?” You asked.

“What would you rather us do? Drink from live humans?” Colby called from outside of the door. Sam turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “Shut up Colby!”

The blonde turned back to you, shaking his head. “My point is, we don’t drink from humans like you, ever. However we haven’t smelled anything like you in our few hundred years,” Sam continued explaining. His words finally caught you off guard. “Wait so you both are what? Three hundred?” You asked. Sam shrugged. “We’re both twenty six, but we’ve been twenty six for about three hundred and forty years, give or take a few,” He informed you.

“Yeah it gets blurry after a while,” Colby agreed from outside of your front door. You almost had the pleasure of forgetting he was there, your face twisting back into an angry expression as you resumed your conversation with Sam. “We are very controlled members of our kind, believe it or not. You’ll have to forgive Colby for losing his head, we usually don’t interact with your kind either. Kind of a double whammy,” Sam finished.

“Can I come in now?” Colby whined from outside of the door. You sighed, nodding. “Yeah come on in,” You agreed. The locks on your door broke off in seconds, a unfazed Colby entering your apartment. Words of protest hung on your tongue before Sam cut you off. “Dont worry we’ll fix that,” Sam told you. You watched as Colby awkwardly shut the door, your chain lock lying on the floor. As Colby joined Sam’s side the blonde nudged him with his elbow.

“I am truly sorry for what I did in the alley. But in my defense you are very hot and you smell divine,” Colby apologized. You felt your face heat up at his compliment and you silently prayed neither of them noticed. “In order to make it up to you we have an offer that might entice you,” Sam told you.

Colby rounded the corner of the kitchen island, slyly approaching you. “You see we’ve noticed that you seem to be pretty lonely, locking yourself in this apartment all alone,” He whispered. Colby leaned in closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “How you desperately grind against your vibrator to get off,” He purred. Heat dashed across your cheeks, your blushing so intense you knew both of them noticed.

“You see when vampires do bite a human, it sends the human into a state of blissful euphoria,” Sam continued. He followed Colby’s lead, walking over and standing directly in front of you. “B-but you said there was risk?” You questioned, trying to remember what Sam had previously said. It was hard to think as Colby towered over you from the side, tucking stray hairs behind your ear. “If one of us bites you there’s a chance you’ll become immortal if we feed for too long, but if we share you, it’ll force us to let you recover so the other one can feed,” Sam explained. Your eyes met his, his full attention on you.

Both of their attentions felt overwhelming, their mere presence making you weak in the knees. “It’ll only be more pleasurable for you if we fuck you, make you beg for more,” Colby murmured. He pressed a kiss against your ear, shifting himself behind you. His strong hands guided you to press your back against his chest, a whimper escaping your lips. Sam stepped forward, guiding your chin to look up at him. “If you want this you have to tell us, the smell of your arousal isn’t enough,” Sam said firmly.

You felt Colby’s boner poke you front behind, both men making your mouth water. The idea of taking them both at the same time sounded exhilarating, the idea of being bitten only making the idea sound better. You nodded profusely, grabbing Sam’s shirt to bring him closer. “Please, I need it,” You whimpered. Colby snickered from behind you, his hands exploring your body. “There’s our girl,” He praised, planting kisses on your neck. Sam planted his lips onto yours, roughly kissing you.

Neither of the boys would admit to you they hadn’t bothered having sexual relations in the past decade, the lust for blood ending in some bloody accidents. But they had enough trust in one another to stop the other from accidentally draining you dry. You were a delicious prize, one they wanted to keep around for a while. It didn’t help that you were also extremely attractive, your doe eyes enough to bring either of them to their knees.

Colby’s hands snaked their way up to the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath the fabric. His touch was ice cold, goosebumps spreading across your skin as his finger tips made their way up to your breast. “No bra? Naughty girl. It’s like you wanted this to happen,” Colby teased, smirking into your neck as his finger trips grabbed your perky nipples. You groaned into Sam’s mouth, the blondes cock growing harder by the minute.

“Let’s take this to the couch, yeah?” Sam suggested.

In the blink of an eye you were teleported onto the couch, your back now rested against Sam’s chest. The blonde moved your hair to the side, kissing your neck gently. His chest grew heavier as your heart began to speed up. He could hear the delicious blood flowing through your veins. “I’m gonna bite you first, that okay?” Sam asked. He exchanged a look with Colby as the brunette settled between your thighs, pulling down your pajama shorts and panties.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine,” You agreed, swallowing hard. Colby kissed your inner thighs, trying to shift your focus away from being afraid. As divine as your fear smelled to them, they wanted you comfortable. “Hey princess, focus on me,” Colby ordered. You forced yourself to open your eyes, looking down at the brunette between your thighs. He brought two fingers to your soaked entrance, sliding them in with ease.

Your hips rose to meet his touch, a sinful groan escaping your lips as he curled his long fingers inside of you. You could feel the coolness of his rings against your entrance, your head tilting back onto Sam’s chest as he finger fucked you. “There we go, you’re doing so good for us,” Sam praised. Colby attached his mouth to your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud like his soul depended on it.

While your mind was distracted with pleasure, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly bit down on the side of your neck, his sharp fangs piercing your skin. You gasped in pain, your head spinning as Sam began to feed. Colby maintained his assault on your cunt, the pleasure helping the foreign pain subside. He briefly detached himself from your clit, his fingers not slowing down. “Relax for me, it’ll feel good in a minute, just relax,” Colby cooed.

Your hand instinctively reached down, searching for Colby’s spare one. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, gripping Colby’s hand. If your eyes had been focused on the brunette you would’ve seen his face, his eyes widening at the intimate exchange. You were seeking comfort in someone like him, as his best friend was feeding on you. He was mesmerized by your naiveness and how desperately you held his hand.

Sam on the other hand was having the time of his life, sucking warm blood from a warm body. The sound of your moans only enhanced your taste. You squeezed Colby’s hand as the euphoria settled in, your face going pale. “Sam chill, you’re going too far,” Colby warned, choosing his wording carefully. Sam slowly pulled away from your neck, panting as he looked at you. You felt a familiar knot forming in your stomach, your mouth running dry.

“Fuck, i’m so so close,” You warned. Colby kept his fingers going at the same brutal pace, putting his mouth back on your clit. You whined at the sensation, throwing your head back. “Thats a good girl, cum on Colby’s fingers,” Sam praised, lapping at your wound. Droplets of your blood trailed down his chin, his tastebuds on fire as licked you clean. Your legs trembled as you cried out Colby’s name, cumming shamelessly on his fingers.

Sam’s boner was begging to be released, the slightest movement you made only making him harder. “You look so pretty cumming for us,” Sam whispered to your ear, peppering kisses all over your exposed skin. You were seeing stars, your mind spinning as you came down from your high. Colby slowly slipped out of you, the boys repositioning you quickly. They had forgotten how fragile humans were, your heart pounding so loudly they almost thought it was going to jump out of your chest.

You were positioned on all fours, your back instinctively arching as Sam took his place behind you. Colby was quick to attend to your sweet face, watching your doe eyes slowly open. “Hi Colby,” You whispered, giving him a dazed grin. Colby found himself smiling back, admiring your natural skin tone flooding back onto your face. “Hi princess,” Colby replied, giving you a genuine smile. You were able to see his fangs up close, the ends of them looking sharper than you had imagined.

Sam ran his tip up and down your drenched folds, the sensation making you shudder. “Why don’t you tell Sammy had badly you want his cock?” Colby asked mockingly. You tilted your head back, your adams apple visible to Colby as he leveled in front of you. “Sam please, I need it, so fucking bad,” You whined. Colby watched as you swallowed, trying to regain some moisture in your mouth.

Colby used one hand to tilt your head to the side, admiring the veins in your neck. “So beautiful,” He murmured. Sam slowly slid in, his cock bottoming out with ease. The brunette couldn’t help it anymore, deciding Sam fucking you senseless could wait. He needed to taste you now.

Holding your head up with one hand Colby sank his fangs into the other side of your neck, groaning at your taste. You were frozen in ecstasy, whimpers escaping your lips. You could feel your blood being drained out of you as Sam’s cock filled you whole. Sam moved his fingers down to your clit, swirling the abused bud as Colby drank from you. With each beat of your pulse he consumed more of you, before finally forcing himself to move away. He panted as blood dripped down your neck, the brunette using his thumb to wipe it away.

“Sam please move,” You begged, your words running together. You felt like you were on cloud nine, your eyes finally meeting Colby’s as Sam began to fuck you. “Colby, please,” You whined. The brunette smirked as he undid his belt, your desperation only turning him on more. “What is it princess? What do you need?” He asked mockingly, taking out his cock. Between unholy groans you managed to pant, “Please let me suck your cock, please.”

Colby grinned at the sight of you rolling out your tongue for him, your innocent doe eyes meeting his. “Fuck, i’m going to ruin you,” The brunette muttered. Sam’s assault on your cervix and clit continued mercilessly as Colby pushed his cock inside of your mouth, your jaw going slack as you maintained eye contact with him. “You have to try her mouth dude, fuck. It’s like she was made to suck cock,” Colby moaned, pushing himself in further.

His words only made Sam speed up, the blonde behind him coming closer and closer to his orgasm. “Next time we’ll switch, her cunt is milking me. It’s like she wants to be filled up by us,” Sam replied, grinning mischievously as your walls squeezed him. Your moans vibrated around Colby’s shaft, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You began to gag, spit pooling down the sides of your mouth and down your chin.

“Awe there we go that’s it, take my cock down your throat,” Colby praised, his face full of pride as he slid in further. You could feel your second orgasm coming, your body so incredibly full. Sam felt your walls squeeze him tighter, the blonde throwing his head back. “Fuck, that’s it, cum on my cock like the good whore you are. Go on. Let me breed you,” Sam spat, his hips snapping into yours. He gripped Colby’s thigh as you came on Sam’s cock, his fingers slowing down their assault on your clit.

Your vision became hazy as Sam came inside of you, groaning your name as he did so. Colby grabbed your hair, putting it in a makeshift ponytail. “Hope you didn’t forget about me princess, this is payback for the pepper spray,” Colby told you before cumming down your throat. You struggled to breathe as he slowly pulled his cock out of you, before swallowing all of his cum. Your waterline was flooded with tears as you looked up at him, completely and utterly dazed. You presented your tongue to him, proudly showing him that you had swallowed all of his seed.

You were filled with cum, covered in saliva and blood, tears threatening to escape your waterline and both boys could only think one thing: you were so fucking beautiful. Sam redressed himself first, while Colby guided you into a more comfortable position. As the brunette redressed himself he smiled, digging in his pocket. You watched as he pulled out a twinkie, handing it to you.

“I figured you might want this.”

You giggled as you took the sugary treat, watching as Sam grabbed a wet washcloth. You realized then, in that very moment, you would be seeing them again.

[sepherinaspoppies]

The One That Got Away

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: After she escapes Aemond Targaryen, back home to the modern world her family decides to throw her an eventful baby shower where she is constantly being reminded of the father of her unborn child.

warnings: mentions of dark! book Aemond, mentions of forced marriage, and future spoilers to my main story.

wc: 4,864

main story masterlist

my masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a small drabble lol but I got carried away lol. btw maybe this can be read as a stand alone but I do suggest to read the first two parts. this is a spoiler drabble so read if you must or come back to it when the story is finished!

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

As of late, she had begun to feel strange. 

It was not the same ill feeling she felt when she first found out that Aemond Targaryen had knocked her up. No, this was different. Odd. 

The closest she could describe it was multiple sets of eyes watching her every single move. From crossing the street, to walking to the mercado and perhaps even sitting on the toilet as she peed.

It was an unsettling feeling that blossomed into slight paranoia. Alys was the first to have warned her about this after she escaped. Saying she too felt something lingering by days after she fled Aemond and settled into the modern world but it was gone once Alys met her. 

However, that strange feeling was always creeping around, never disappearing. And even though Alys had promised that Aemond would never find her with the many spells and seals she encircled around to protect her, she still didn’t feel quite so easily convinced. 

Late at night, she would pray for that strange yet uncomfortable feeling to be gone and to never come back. But most importantly she prayed to the Gods for the very memory of him to vanish completely from her mind. 

The Gods, nevertheless, didn’t seem to want to grant her daily prayers as cruelly as they were. 

She was near the third trimester in her pregnancy when her primas Gabriela and Mariana decided to throw her a baby shower. While she was in no social or partying mood, considering her six month belly weighed her down every time she walked, she reluctantly gave in to their pleadings. (female cousins)

Mostly because she desperately needed the distraction. 

So she let both Gabriela and Mariana organize the shower. Her only request was to keep the party small, with only her, her abuela, them and the rest of her primas and tias. Seeing as her extended family that resided deeper inside the pueblo, did not know about her pregnancy. And she wanted to keep it that way. (aunts, town)

But did Gabriela and Mariana ever listen? No.

The pair had practically invited half the town over with people she had never met before. It came as a huge surprise after she got done from her shift at Doña Maribel’s shop, just how many people showed up. 

The whole street was filled with baby blue, pink, and white balloons with a huge banner with her name on it. Her neighbors, mostly the women, approached her with congratulations and a small gift. She, of course, thanked them for their kindness. 

Meanwhile her tios happened to be making carne asada in the middle of the street and placing bets on the gender of her baby. If she wasn’t so paranoid about Aemond searching for her, she too would’ve also joined in on their bets. (uncles, roasted meat or barbecue lol)

Her primas were the first to greet her while eagerly showing the decorations they had made, the party games they had planned, and the many gifts she had been gifted. 

“We made these little pins for the gender of the baby, and all of us are wearing what we think the little frijolito is going to be. Now it’s your turn to pick!” Gabriela says holding two pins, each adorned with a baby bottle with either pink or blue. (little bean)

She looked at both very hesitantly, unable to just pick one. She had heard stories from multiple customers that came from the shop, how they just knew the gender of their baby by the feel of their bump or mood symptoms. 

After weeks of trying to feel something or to establish some type of connection for it, she sadly could not get a good feel of what it was. 

Though, the only thing that did matter was for the little frijolito to be happy and healthy. When reading Fire and Blood, she remembered reading how Rhaenyra Targaryen had birthed a daughter with dragon-like birth defects and a scaled tail.

She prayed that she wouldn’t hatch an actual dragon as well. Birth sounded painful and unpleasant enough as it was. 

She pinned both decorative pins to her shirt earning several dissatisfied ‘aw’s’ from her surrounding family. 

“I’m pretty sure it’ll be a boy,” Her abuela added in, sitting adjacent to her on the small couch. “I carried five boys and my belly was as low as yours. When I carried your mama, my belly was higher and rounder from the sides.” 

Some of her tias nodded in agreement. But it was her tia abuela, Dora, who examined her from head to toe, doing what she did best; stirring the pot. “Yes and her belly is very big which means it’ll be a tall baby. Tell me, hija, is the father a tall man?” (great aunt, daughter)

The room went impossibly quiet so much that she could hear a hair pin drop. She saw her abuela shift uncomfortably against the couch as so did the rest of her tias and primas. Although she had not mentioned who or what exactly happened to her family, they all had an inclination of what stemmed between the father of her unborn child and her. 

“Yes. Yes he is.” She answered with a fake smile. 

Dora raised an eyebrow, more than intrigued to know more. “¿Cuánto mide?” (what’s his height?)

In the corner of her eye, she saw her abuela give her sister a harsh look, the same one she’d give her when she was little whenever she did something wrong. 

“I don’t know his exact height, tia. I just know he is a lot taller than me.” She informed, trying not to let her voice waver at the small flashback she had of Aemond, standing in front of her where he’d forced her to marry him against a Weirwood tree at Harrenhal. It was the first time she really took in his massive height. And it was also the first time she felt truly smaller and inferior than him. 

You’re safe. You escaped. He’s gone. He’ll never find us. 

Dora did not let her sister’s harsh stare get to her, and instead fixated her eyes on the way she kept rubbing her heavy bump. “Will we ever get a chance to meet him?-”

“Hermana,” Her abuela warned with a stricter and more stern tone to her voice. (sister)

“Que? I just want to know more about the father so I can figure out if the clothes I bought would be a right fit or not.” Dora shrugs, feigning an innocent look on her face. Though, it was transparent enough to know she was lying. (what?)

Truth to be told, she never really quite liked her tia abuela. No one ever did. Not even her mama or abuela or quite shockingly her own daughter. Dora was known to be a pretentious chismosa, sticking her nose into other people’s business and going as far as to twist people’s words for the sole purpose of her own enjoyment. (gossiper)

Multiple times her family called Dora out for her bad mouthing. But the older woman stuck around like a moth to a flame, awaiting for new chisme to spread. (gossip)

“Well, if the clothes don’t fit we can always buy new ones. So stop being a metida, hermana.” She watched amazed as her tia abuela only huffed, crossing her arms on her chest and for once kept quiet for the remainder of the party. (someone who is other’s business)

To dissipate away the eminent tension, Mariana had brought out custom baby shower tablas of loteria she and Gabriela had ordered from Etsy. She laughed at the ‘La Botella’ being replaced with a biberón and ‘La Sirena’ being replaced with a pair of lactating breasts that tia Diana joked it’ll soon look like hers whenever she’d give birth. (cards of the game loteria. The bottle. Baby bottle. The siren)

As per usual, they played with money involved. She had won seven rounds out of ten against her family and earned around five hundred pesos until her tios decided to join in and tried to defeat her. Keyword, tried. But they never did and pinned four hundred more pesos to her dress. All five of her tios had playfully cursed her out as they kept drinking their Coronas. 

“Alyssandra, bienvenida!” Her abuela welcomed a bashful looking Alys holding a gift. The green eyed woman wore an all black outfit, jeans that Alys had once confessed to her were her favorite stylish invention of the modern world (besides non toxic makeup). (welcome)

“I hope I’m not too late for the celebration,” Alys pointed out, taking a seat in front of her. “You kept my nieta safe those many months ago, you’re always welcomed here at any time, Alyssandra.” (granddaughter)

Safe. 

She let out a humorous laugh. Safe was the opposite of what Alys had done to her. Kidnapped and held hostage was a better fit for words. She had been magically transported to a world she only knew existed in a book, and met one of her favorite book characters, Aemond Targaryen. A man who she thought to be a kindhearted friend by promising to return her back to her universe. 

Instead Aemond Targaryen had betrayed her trust and loyalty by destroying what she needed to get back home. Thus forcing her to marry him. It was then when she realized who he truly was hidden behind empty promises; a man who was crazy and obsessed with her. 

And everything had happened for a stupid sapphire that held a high sentimental value to Alys. 

Alys narrowed her eyes from where she sat but suddenly softened when she saw the permanent bruises on her wrists where Aemond had tied her down for their intense wedding night. 

Multiple times did Alys apologize for sending her to the arms of a delusional man. From what Alys remembered, Aemond didn’t go as far as bounding her whenever they slept together. Alys had let Aemond take his pleasure with a feign smile ultimately to play her game of survival. 

She didn’t quite so easily forgive Alys and she doesn’t think she’d ever will. 

“I still am sorry for what I did.” Alys’ voice softly wandered on her head. 

“I know,” She replied back through her mind. 

As the day turned into night, it was finally time to open gifts. However, not without having cake, her abuela brought out a delicious looking chocoflan. A cake she previously loved but thanks to Aemond, she no longer was fond of it. 

Her abuela cut the biggest slide for her and the little frijolito and called out the rest of the family to come have a slice. In an instant the chocoflan was gone but her abuela secretly whispered to her that she had more in the fridge saved just only for her. 

It took her over an hour to unwrap the stack of gifts she received and she was grateful for the many boxes of diapers as they would come utterly in handy. She’d been gifted a dark green crochet hat with matching mittens from her abuela, a pair of red mal de ojo bracelets for spiritual protection from tia Imelda, a mini thick cobija Mexicana from tio Eduardo, and several gender neutral clothes. (evil eye, mexican blanket)

It was Alys’ gift that made everyone’s head turn in confusion. 

“They are scrolls. I found them as I was cleaning my bookshelf and I thought they might be useful to your babe,” Alys explained as she fully opened one of them, revealing hieroglyphics and scriptures in a language she didn’t understand. 

“What’s… High Valyrian?” Mariana asked ever so curious, over her shoulder. 

Alys interrupted her before she had a chance to speak. “It is a language originating from the land of Old Valyria.” 

Her youngest prima Sofia’s eyes lit up in interest, “Oh cool! Is it like the Sith language from Star Wars?” 

It was Alys’ turn to look at the young Star Wars fan in befuddlement. “What’s Star Wars?”

Sofia scoffed in shock and explained in full detail what the fictional universe that was Star Wars. Well at least she hoped it was fictional. At this point, if Luke Skywalker was real in another universe or in a galaxy far, far away she wouldn’t be astonished. Though, if the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t mind traveling to that world to meet Anakin Skywalker. If the real Anakin Skywalker looked anything like Hayden Christensen, within a heartbeat she’d run to Alys to do one of her spells. 

“Who are the Targaryens?” Gabriela questioned reading one of the scrolls that had a list of Valyrian houses. 

“Nobody.” She sharply replied, starting to feel somewhat vexed. 

“They are the people who descended from Old Valyria and speak High Valyrian. They are the only ones who can read these scrolls-”

One flesh. One heart. One soul. 

“Alys.” 

“They sound magical,” Sofia replied, full of awestruck. Only if she knew that they were more than just that. 

“Why did you say that these scrolls would be useful to the baby? Is the baby part Targaryen or something?” Mariana jokes, making her family more intrigued by the edge of their seats.  

“Can’t have my seed go to waste, my love. You shall swell with my child soon enough. A perfect babe born from our love.” 

Stop. No more. You are safe. He’ll never come. This is your baby more than it is his. 

“You are mine. You’ll never leave me…”

“Hija?” She heard her abuela call out her name as she broke out in a run. 

She wanted to get out, every second that she was there, being reminded of the man who impregnated her made her feel nauseous. Maybe it was because of the frijolito or just pure fear. She didn’t know, but either way it was a feeling she didn’t want to have. 

She did not spare anyone a glance, not wishing for anyone to see the panic and wretchedness. 

“I love you.” 

In an instant, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find and emptied out her stomach until Aemond’s voice stopped circulating in her head. 

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke behind her. 

She turned around seeing a man around her age, tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. His hand extended a red solo cup that he softly murmured was water.  

She nodded, easing the worry on his face. “Yea just a little sick is all.” The worrisome never faltered on his face, if anything he looked more concerned. “There’s some gelatina inside, I could grab you a plate? When my sisters were pregnant all they ate was gelatina to ease the nausea.” (gelatin aka jell-o)

“No it’s fine, I’ll-” He waved her off, sprinting inside before she could even finish. He brought a small plate of gelatina de limon to an empty table, motioning for her to sit. (lime flavored gelatin)

He watched intently as she took a few bites into the gelatina, humming when the color came back to her face. She sure did feel better, small little kicks to her belly confirmed that the frijolito felt the same. 

“Better?” The dark haired man asked. 

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. 

“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Armando,” He bashfully confessed with a tint of pink on his cheeks. 

Of course she most definitely remembered him. The boy next door she had a huge crush on when she was little. Only that he was not so little now. 

“I do remember you. It still feels like just yesterday when we were sitting here on these tables eating the paletas de hielo after school.” She smiled fondly at the memory. Unbeknownst to her Armando would use the money his parents would give him for school lunch, to buy their paletas de hielo just so he could spend more time with her. It was his favorite part of the day. (popsicles)

Armando laughed as he too looked back at the memory. “I would’ve come a lot sooner to catch up. But I had some business to do in Oaxaca and Merida. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me since it's been more than thirteen years but I needed to see you just once more before I left.” 

A part of her felt touched that he had come all this way, and the drive she knew wasn’t easy. “I’m surprised you remembered me,” She quipped back. 

“Who would ever forget you?” 

It was her turn to bright pink. She couldn’t find any right words, but what could anyone say? Armando’s confession had been honest. Since she had left al otro lado, there hadn’t been a day where he wouldn’t stop thinking about her. (to the other side/ the states)

She decided to briefly change the subject instead. “I see that you didn’t change your mind about going to Oaxaca after all these years.” For as long as she could remember, Armando more than often would say that he wanted to live in Oaxaca, especially near the coast. What she also didn’t know was that it was her who he wanted to live there with.  

“No I didn’t. I’m building a house there since my papa left me some terreno there after he passed away. You should come visit after it’s finished, soon.” Armando sincerely hoped she would. (land)

Aquí vas a terminar de enamorarte conmigo. He thought to himself. (here you are going to end up falling in love with me) 

The idea of going to Oaxaca sounded not so bad. But traveling with a big and heavy belly sounded tiring and draining. Perhaps after she’d given birth when the baby was past its infancy. 

“I leave in four days and I’d like to see you again. Or perhaps you wanna come with me?” The dark haired man asked, quirking a brow. 

“So what do you think of Armando?” Her abuela slyly probed, after she’d just given her goodbye to Armando. She should have known her abuela would be closely watching their interaction. “He’s gotten taller,” She jokes with a playful look on her face. Her abuela rolled her eyes, “You know that’s not what I mean.” 

She knows what she means but the talk of men was not something she wished to continue further. If she had met Armando first rather than Aemond, she definitely wouldn’t mind the conversation. But yet, Aemond had been thrown into her path unwelcomed. 

“When you left for the states with your mama, Armando would ask everyday when you were coming back or any news of you. We thought he’d eventually get the hint that you were gone for good but that boy still asked about you. It wasn’t until your abuelo finally broke the news to him that he stopped coming here.” 

She remembered that day when she left, her mama barely gave her time to say her goodbyes. 

“He seems to be doing alright.” She pointed out, picking up dirty plates to place them inside the sink. “Oh, he’s doing better than alright. He got offered a position to work at a law firm in Oaxaca and his mama told me he’s also building a house over there. I heard it’s beautiful and spacious.” At the last sentence her abuela wiggles her brows, teasing. 

She hummed in acknowledgement, knowing where the conversation was going towards. “Good for him.” Although Armando gave her a sense of kindness and genuinity, she was in no way ready to be involved with someone romantically. Aemond, too, seemed kind at first until he had betrayed her trust and went completely haywire and delusional. He had shown her a different side to him once she figured out their well thought out plan to transport her back home, was all a lie to get her to marry him and never leave. 

Aemond and Alys both shattered that illusion of the fairytale love she wished to have.  

What’s not to say Armando had an evil and dark side to him as well? 

“El es un buen hombre con un muy buen corazón, tiene trabajo estable. Te lo digo para que lo pienses,” Her abuela advised, gently squeezing her forearm, “A house like the one he’s building, deserves a family to live in.” (he is a good man with a good heart, he has a stable job. I say this so you can think about it) 

Her abuela’s eyes then trailed to her swollen pregnant belly. “One must make sacrifices that we don’t always want or agree with for our children.” 

The party began to slowly falter close to ten, she never was one for sleeping early but after such a long day she and the frijolito needed much necessary beauty sleep. 

Although her abuela said she’d clean, she ended up doing it herself as cleaning gave her a sense of control and some therapy clear of anxiety. She went ahead and took all the gifts up to her bedroom where it was much more quiet and alone amidst others. 

She plopped herself down on the bed, opening a small bottle of lavender oil to rub to her belly that Doña Maribel suggested was good for calming stretch marks. She did not mind them, she knew it was natural for her body to expand to fit the babe, but what did bother her was the itchiness to it. 

Not only did the oil soothe itch, but the frijolito loved it when she would firmly massage the spot where it rested. She once massaged the side of her belly only to find out the dragonling was ticklish there. 

She nearly screamed when she heard two loud knocks at her door, revealing a certain black haired witch. 

“Mind if I come in?” Alys asked, her head popping inside the little crevice of the door. As much as she wanted to be alone, she muttered a simple yes. Alys made herself comfortable by plopping down to the left of her on the bed. 

“I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier, I was out of line to give you those scrolls in the presence of your family.” Alys admitted, her enchanting face etched with sincerity. 

She sighed, “You were. I have a feeling my family will ask me more questions about it.” 

Alys made a face that suggested she was thinking about something, “I could always make them forget it. Just say the words and I’ll do it.” Alys promised. 

“No, no more magic or anything of what I used to think was fictional. I mean it Alys, I don't want to ever think of Aemond Targaryen.” 

Alys understood what she meant, after her version of Aemond died at the Battle Above the Gods Eye, she too didn’t want to think of him. The only thing that mattered was her son, her beautiful little boy that was taken too soon. She regretted not saving him sooner and transporting him to this new world she found. Alys had a feeling that he’d love it here, this country full of colors and great food. 

Even if Alys could bring him back from the dead, her son’s body resided in the Riverlands. 

“What if…” Alys thought before continuing, “What if I could take the memories away? Just the ones of him and-” 

“Forgetting doesn’t change what happened,” She bickered a little too loudly causing the babe to stir and kick all around. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Alys began to admire the many gifts she’d been given, never in her life had she seen so many boxes that read to be diapers. She had only used scraps of linen she’d find lying around and cleaned it when her son did his business. Disposable diapers sounded less work but the thought of the amount of waste in this world seemed unappealing and would much rather keep the scraps of linen. 

“This isn’t really your thing, is it?” Alys motioned her head to the side where her window was, her family still celebrating outside with the whole neighborhood. 

“Not really. This whole thing was organized by my primas and tios. But now that I look back on it I think this was an excuse for my family to throw a party and drink,” She chuckles, even more when she sees her tios, Mario and Pedro dancing together (most likely drunk) to an uncoordinated cumbia.

Alys also lets out a chuckle of agreement, “Your tio Chema kept giving me Coronas after Coronas. I’m amazed that I’m not drunk.”

She smiles, knowing damn well tio Chema loves to get anyone drunk. He’d even pour an ounce to the dog’s kibble too if he could.

“But you are quite lucky you know,” Alys turns to her with a solemn look in her forest green eyes. “To have a family who loves you so much enough to throw you a grand celebration for the babe that you carry.” All that Alys got in return was being called a whore when she was far enough to show. Of course, Aemond hadn’t been one of those people. He rejoiced when she first told him months after he took her as his bedmate. 

“I didn’t.” Alys shrugged. Even though she despised touch, she placed her hand on top of Alys’ and gave it a squeeze. Alys’ eyes began to incite with tears at the gesture, but she quickly shrugged the feeling off. 

“This isn’t about me, this is about you. I know you said no more Westeros talk but I’ve been meaning to give you this for a while now and I wish not to keep it anymore.” Alys placed a medium sized box on her lap. Whatever was inside had some weight into it. 

“You already gave me a gift, Alys-” She declines but the older witch shakes her head and gestures for her to open it. 

She unwraps the green ribbon and opens the top of the box, revealing some kind of oval shaped rock. The color was a mixture of teal and violet, its edges were rough and scaled to the touch. 

It was not just some rock. It was an egg. 

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Alys.” She murmured anxiously, distancing herself from the object. Alys proudly smiled, “If you assume this is a dragon egg, then yes you’re correct.” 

She immediately places the dragon egg back in the box, afraid of the little thing hatching in a world that it isn’t supposed to be hatched. “You can’t just give me a dragon egg! What if this thing hatches? Dragons aren’t-” She babbled before she was rudely interrupted. 

“Relax, I have enchanted it into a stone. It will not hatch here, I made sure of it.” Alys reassured, placing the egg back onto her hands. 

Still startled, she shook her head. “Nope, I can’t accept this Alys.” She gave the egg back. If anyone were to walk in it’d look like they were playing a game of hot potato. 

“Yes you can and you will. Besides, it’s not like it’s for you; it’s for the babe.” 

She narrowed her eyes, it was still a dragon egg. “How did you even get a dragon’s egg anyways?” 

Alys sighs, sitting back down on the bed taking a trip down memory lane. “My version of Aemond gave it to me. After I told him I was with child he made sure to give me one of Dreamfyre’s eggs. Though, Aemond died shortly after and it did not hatch. My son however, was sad about it but I knew if it hatched Aegon the Younger would send his men to either kill it or to take it for himself since his own dragon died. So I kept the egg for myself.” 

She still had many more questions to ask but for now it would suffice. She walked to the crib that she purchased not too long ago and placed the teal-violet egg next to some dragon plushies she knew the frijolito would like. 

“Thank you Alys,” She told Alys with a smile before releasing a long tired yawn. 

Alys nodded, grabbing her purse, another fashionable invention she loved from this world, deciding to give the young girl some rest. She suddenly came to a stop at her bedroom door.

“You know, you deserve happiness. I believe that young boy with the curls will give you and your babe just that. Give him a chance, take that risk and follow him.” 

With that Alys left. 

Four days later, she knocked at Armando’s door with her belongings in her hands and left with him to Oaxaca. A month later, they both married in a small Catholic church next to their families. True to Alys’ and her abuela’s words, she was happy with Armando. 

Unbeknownst to her, her true husband had been watching through the flames. 

“Oh, my love it seems like you have forgotten who you belong to. Fret not, you will learn soon enough.”

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[yestrday]

–BLUSH BLUSH ! anemo | hydro | geo | pyro

⤷ yan! hybrid! kamisato ayato, childe, xingqiu 

summary ! your aquatic hybrids are just as playful as the ebbing tides of the sea, and very much in love with you. the prime residents of your manmade lake just behind your house, you foolishly trust them enough not to question why the water’s surface grows red when they submerge into its depths.

content ! inaccurate demonstrations of their animal’s physical traits; any science majors this is the time to not read any further lest you want a headache; mentions of murder; thoughts of corruption; sadism; mentions of a leash; toxic behavior

notes ! uh wow did not notice theres like only 3 hydro men and yet it took me five business days to write this lmao.. anyways enjoy

AYATO scares you the first time you meet. on that particular day, the sun is bright and makes the man-made lake behind your house glisten ever so beautifully. it’s a sad attempt on your father’s part to appease your loneliness, but you can’t deny how happy you are when you find out about it. riding a rowboat into the center of the lake, you enjoy the wonderful weather as you relax under your parasol, alongside the tea and biscuits aether has prepared for you…

that is, if the tea hadn’t ran out when you weren’t watching. you swear there was tea in the thermostat just awhile ago. as you ponder in confusion about its sudden disappearance, you spy a pair of glowing eyes peeking at you fro just under the ripples of the water. when you try to lean in closer, you scream in shock when the creature’s head pops out from the water and nudges your head. “hello~” the creature, covered in glistening blue scales and sporting a coy grin, greets you even as you jump back. “my, that’s not how you greet a tenant of your lands, do you now?”

AYATO helps balance the rowboat when you almost tip it over from your shock. in fact, he actually helps push the rowboat towards the shore so that he can finally have a proper conversation without you almost falling into the water every now and then. now that you’re on stable ground, you can finally get a good view of him– inhumanly white skin tinged with the undertones of blue, and shiny blue denticles covering his limbs and temples. and when smiles, it’s rather… deadly, if the sharp rows of teeth have anything to say for themselves. he leans casually on a rock, and lets his fin (your anxiety increases when you begin to realize it’s shaped like a shark’s) rest under the sun.

you quickly find out the sawshark hybrid has been living in your lake just a bit after it was finished building. he was busy running away from something, and he wasn’t about to pass up a good lake. it unsettles you when he tells you that he was there from the very moment your father’s driver dropped you off at the mansion and could even recount the day you met aether. his shark’s grin grows larger when you shudder.

when you bring him back to the mansion, everyone is on their guard against AYATO. his eye smile seems cunning, and he touches you a tad too flirtatiously for everyone’s taste. the only one who seems happy about his appearance is thoma, who apparently has a shared history with the man, and they quickly adapt a master-servant relationship. thoma seems to be at his every beck and call as he is at yours, and sometimes you wonder if you’re sharing the title as ‘master of the house’ now.

AYATO seems to have a strange fondness for teasing you. as his long fingers trail your cheek and lift you by the chin, he delights in seeing you all flustered and stammering. he finds you adorable, like one would do a pet. he finds it fascinating how so many hybrids, both mythical and normal ones alike, have become so subservient to you. he understands them though, really– after all, how could one not fall for a human as sweet and genuine as you? you take care of them even though you could easily exploit them, and you have no ulterior motives like the rest of your folk.

AYATO likes to watch the events of the house unfold from the shadows. he’s not one for actually being part of the drama, but if there’s something going on, he’s sure to know about it. in fact, some of them may even be orchestrated by him. but whenever the involved hybrid angrily comes up to confront him, all they are left with is a coy smile and the very damning fact that they have no evidence on him.

if you’re thrusted into the elite life, you can come to AYATO for guidance, but do be wary when doing so, though. in his home country, he was one of the more important elites, so he’s well-aware of the trickeries and betrayal that comes with this sort of lifestyle. he finds it very amusing that your loaf of a father would push a greenhorn like you into such an intricate environment. it’s like he wants to see your downfall. but no worries~! mature and responsible AYATO is there to guide you!

beware though, AYATO is very strict when it comes to your training. after all, you are sort of his master, no? and he can’t have an incompetent buffoon for a master. he’ll make you repeat and repeat his lessons until you’re crying and your hands are sore from raising the teacup the right way. at his side, thoma wants to come forward and soothe you, but all it takes is a knowing glance from ayato to make him stop. tsk tsk… come on, master. you’re the child of a billionaire as well as the beloved human of sooo many hybrids. these trials are for your own good…

or so he says, with a sadistic grin on his face. his blue eyes shimmer as you rub your tears away and continue on with the training. ah… you really are quite the adorable pet. sharks don’t easily bow their heads to anyone, you know? much less filthy, corrupt humans. he doesn’t understand why your hybrids are so eager to lay their head at your feet, when you’re soooo much prettier with a leash around your neck ♡

RELATIONSHIPS: ayato is never seen without thoma by his side, and many of the hybrids actually seem to pity the dog hybrid as he’s the number one victim of ayato’s pranks. the inazuman hybrids are actually quite respectful of him, minus itto who has no sense of wariness and just ropes ayato in whatever game he has in mind. sometimes, he manages to involve aether in running an errand for him, much to the chagrin of the catboy.

AJAX shows up at your house as he’s tagging behind a disgruntled aether. you swear you could mistake him for a fox hybrid had it not been for the pointy horn (er… tusk?) on his head. he just… gives off that aura, like the coy smile on his face and the fluffy ginger hair. from what aether tells you, they met while aether was out for a walk and the man just immediately pounced on him and challenged him to a duel. judging by the injuries, it was a close fight, but aether ultimately came out the victor. you catch aether sending wary glances towards the narwhal, who ignores this in favor of smiling at you.

AJAX immediately greets you, a friendly and curious look on his face as he inspects the master of the hybrid who bested him. "hello there~" he's intimidatingly tall, and a closer look at him lets you see the faint shimmer of the mottled skin from his neck to around the edges of his face. "you wouldn't mind sheltering me for a liiittle bit, won't you? i can't seem to rest until i've bested my comrade over there! that, and–" his eyes glint with a crude expression as the shadowy eyes of your hybrids glare from the corners. "– you've got a pretty interesting cast here."

when AJAX joins your crew, it seems like there's a plus one headache for aether. he's challenging every other hybrid he comes across, but he seems like he's pestering aether the most. he always gets his ass beaten, and though he isn't actually upset about it, he uses this as an excuse for you to comfort him. he comes running to you with fake tears and rushes to hug you— much to aether's chagrin— whining about how your cat was bullying him (not minding the fact that you've been watching them from when AJAX challenged him out of nowhere). hugging you from behind, he fake sobs into your neck, all the while locking you into place with his thick thighs.

AJAX takes good care of you, like how an older brother would. when he's not purposely irritating the other hybrids by being overly clingy with you, he's gentle with his touches. he's also a good help with chores and he'll make you your favorite foods! it's quite obvious that he loves to dote on you, and that's one quality the others can respect. oftentimes, however, you become too adorable for your own good and he can't help but squeeze you in for a hug! that's when the other hybrids swoop in to pry him off you.

he finds the thought of pretty little you sequestered away in some mansion away from the cityscape somewhat… romantic? or more appropriately, appealing. his sick perversion convolutes your pitiful situation when he thinks of how easily he can just take you for himself. those with similar delusions may want to preserve your innocence, but AJAX fantasizes about how far he can corrupt you. did you really plan on staying quiet in this lonely mansion all your life? are you not angry at how easily your father can abandon you? you’re the heir to multimillion corporation, for goodness sake! you deserve more than this!

AJAX is more than willing to bloody his hands for you, should you ask of him. in fact, he already does so without you ever asking for it. he truly cares for you, and he can eliminate any threats to your life and position while laughing as he does so. if you’re a bit more innocent and sheltered, he won’t really let you know about his doings. however, if you’re the one who explicitly ordered the strike… well, AJAX will definitely seek your praise. clinging all over your, soaked in the blood of your enemy, he near grinds his body against you as he begs for your sweet, sweet praise… although it’s also sexy when you ignore his pleas.

RELATIONSHIPS: zhongli and ajax are a strange pair often seen together. while they talk over tea together, there is a stifling atmosphere as they passive-aggressively one-up each other. xiao is wary of him and is only second in beating him up. aether, of course, takes the number one spot, as ajax holds him in high regard than anyone in the house.

a rare trip to a lake– not your lake, but another one– greets you with disaster. the wind blows too hard, and your boat is swayed by the wind until you topple over and crash into the water. your hybrids are on the shore, none of them too adept at swimming, and strain as you might, you find that your underused limbs aren’t strong enough to pull you to shore. but suddenly you feel a pair of arms embrace you, before quickly swimming back up.

your savior drags you to shore, where your hybrids fuss over you while you cough up the water in your lungs. when you turn to meet your savior, you don’t know why you’re surprised when you meet another hybrid– an otter, he introduces himself, if it wasn’t evident enough by the long, fur-covered tail on his back. XINGQIU greets you with a gentlemanly smile, and you find yourself gaping at his pretty face before you suddenly thank him and call him your hero. XINGQIU is pleasantly surprised at this— so pleased, in fact, that he decides to come home with you.

seeing your collection of hybrids, XINGQIU is excited at the thought of meeting so many mythical as well as heroic entities. not only that, but he’s plenty delighted at your personal library. he’s usually engrossed in fiction about heroes and whatnot, and more often than not you’ll see the boy cuddled in the library’s sofa with his nose in a book. if he’s not in the library or playing another prank on chongyun, then he’s at the lake, floating contentedly on the water or reading a book on the riverbanks.

just on the foot of the hill your mansion sits on top, XINGQIU is well-known in the local village for his chivalrous deeds. it’s a quiet rural town, and he delights in its simplicity. when he’s down at the village for the walk, he’ll catch thieves and turn them or pay for the food of a hungry group of children. he’s among the well-liked hybrids of yours, and is a favorite by the local mothers. he’s not so much a favorite back at the mansion though. him being cheeky as well as prone to mischief has made the other members grow wary of him, even his best friend, chongyun. all this he laughs at, and continues to play pranks when other’s aren’t looking.

XINGQIU often shows an eagerness to do what’s good— for humanity, for his friends, and for you. while he’s a bit lazy when it comes to actually helping with the housework, he won’t stand for any sort of injustice that happens to you. whether you are falsely slandered or attacked by paid assassins, XINGQIU makes it his mission to save you. he’s so caught up in the thrill and pleasure of being your hero— the day you first called him that replays in his mind over and over again.

he’s so caught up in playing your hero that XINGQIU willingly blurs the line between chivalry and self-serving. is he really doing this because your opponents are unjustified in attacking a naive and defenseless person like you? or is he doing this because he enjoys you clinging to him and thanking him, singing his praises as you call him your hero over and over again.

XINGQIU loves you, that much is true. he loves you the point of never wanting to let you go, and he truly means to become the chivalrous hero he reads about in his books. but his more… playful (?) side wants to see you tear up a bit more, as you sit dazed on the floor with your attacker’s blood all over you and him at your front as he slices them up in the name of justice.

RELATIONSHIPS: he and chongyun are best buds, but it seems that xingqiu always has the upper hand in their relationship. zhongli sometimes acts as a mentor to the both of them as he trains them in the martial arts. he tags along with aether when he makes grocery runs down the village, as well as shows off his training to him every once in a while to show how much he’s improving.

tags: @probablynoposts​

[back2bluesidex]

20 Years Late - KSJ

Pairing: Divorced, single dad!SeokjinX Best friend, Fem!Reader

Theme: Angst, Fluff, mutual pining, confessions, slice of life au, bf2l au.

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Seokjin could count on his fingers the things that haven't changed within these 20 years of his life, and one of those is you..

Warnings: mentions of unsuccessful marriage, divorce, mutual pining, quite angsty (Not like girl crush I promise), love confessions, crying, Seokjin is 40, reader is 39. SFW.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Happy Seokjin day! Hope our baby is happy and healthy. 💜

And I hope you all like this short piece. I personally like the way it turned out. Tell me what you guys think.

“Appa, you know you have to do it today, right?” Seokhee’s voice sounds less like encouragement and more like a threat. Seokjin knows his daughter well. He knows she will make his life a living hell if he fails to complete his mission today. 

So, he has to do it. He has to do it today at any freaking cost. 

“Yes, Seokhee! Appa knows.” Seokjin tries to calm his daughter down but in reality, he fails to stay calm himself. 

He is nervous. There is a tremble in his hands, which he used to experience back in his rookie days. 

Now that he is thinking of those days, he realizes so many things have changed, have been altered even. He used to be youthful, used to throw dad jokes all around, used to hit the club twice a month but now.. All he has is back pain, impending migraine before each boring meeting, and a skin thicker than earth’s mantle. 

But he also has more experience, both professionally and personally, and patience. Certainly, a wrong marriage, fatherhood and a divorce has taught him enough about life and he is grateful for that. 

He could count on his fingers the things that haven't changed within these 20 years of his life, and one of those is you. 

You were with him when he used to be reckless and wild, you were with him when he took the vows he couldn’t keep, you were with him when he held Seokhee for the first time in his arms, you were with him when he signed those divorce papers and you still are with him. 

You took care of not only him but also his daughter selflessly. He is grateful to you for all of it, but he is even more apologetic. You kind of sacrificed your life for your best friend, him, and his daughter, Seokhee. And as a result, you are 39 and unmarried. 

What unsettles Seokjin even more is that he could have easily held your hands, looked into your eyes and told you that he loves you, he has been loving you for 20 years now… but he failed. 

He failed you again and again on several occasions for numerous times in these 20 years. However, that is not what he wants to think of today. He is finally giving himself a chance, giving his life another chance… and giving you an idea of what you and him could be... together. 

“Hey handsome, where are you so lost?” you appear out of nowhere and sit down beside him on the sand. Handing him the ice-cream cone, you take a lick from yours. 

Seokjin jolts at your sudden appearance. He tries to calculate for how long he has been zoning out. He looks at his phone only to find out Seokhee has cut the call and the screen went back to his wallpaper.. him, Seokhee and you, a happy family... only if it actually was. He puts the device in his pocket.

“Took you so long.” he comments softly as he tastes the vanilla-flavored goodness on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yeah. The queue was pretty long.” you point at the ice-cream shop residing a little far away from the place you two are sitting currently. “But it’s worth it. The ice-cream tastes really good. Seokhee would have liked it so much.”  

Seokjin scoffs. He sometimes feels jealous of his own daughter because these days all you talk about is her. Is Seokjin nothing more than Seokhee’s father? Are those 20 years long memories fading from your brain or something? Can’t you look at him as Kim Seokjin, the 40 years old businessman, who loves you?   

“You miss her, don’t you?” he turns his head to look at you. The mellow sea breeze has ruffled up your hair making it messy, you have a little bit of chocolate at the corner of your lips, your right elbow is covered with sand, your eyes are red and there are eyebags under those. But you are beautiful nonetheless. As beautiful as when he had seen you for the first time, when he was 20 and you were 19. 

“Of course I do. I know your ex-wife takes good care of her but I can’t help being a little worried, which makes me miss her even more.” you pout a little. Seokjin’s heart melts into a puddle. 

“And what about me? Do you miss me?” he adds a little suggestively, trying to find an answer or a question in your eyes. 

“You are practically right here, Jin. Why the fuck will I miss you?”  you giggle, nudging his shoulder with yours in the process. 

“Not that, Y/N. Don’t you miss your Jinnie? You best friend? The person I used to be before getting married, before having Seokhee?” If Seokjin's voice sounds a little desperate, he does nothing to mask it. It’s you after all. He can show you the real him, the desperate version of himself who craves you and your love. 

You smile a little, but there is a sadness in it that tugs at Seokjin’s heart strings. 

“Yes. Yes I do. But I can’t let that take me over. Otherwise I will start wishing for impossible, forbidden things that I buried long, long ago.”  

“What if those things are not forbidden? Not impossible? What if- what if the wishes are mutual?” Seokjin suggests. 

Your expression changes in a heartbeat. When you look at him, he perceives moisture in your eyes. And you look hurt, as if he has trespassed a territory you clearly asked him to stay away from. 

“You don’t know what you are saying, Seokjin.” Your voice trembles. 

“Don’t call me that. Call me Jinnie, just like you used to 12 years ago.” Seokjin scoots closer to your body. 

“I- I can’t-”

“Let’s start afresh. Both of us, you and me, together. Please?” Seokjin cuts you off. 

“What? What are you even.. Jin? Are you pitying me right now? Are you extending your kind hands seeing me approaching my 40s without a partner?” Fat trails of tears roll down your cheeks and break Seokjin’s heart.

“No- what the fuck! No-” Seokjin tries to establish his ground but you cut him off.

“Then why? Tell me why are you proposing something so unreasonable like this? Are you joking with me?” you spat at him. 

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I love you! Are you happy now?” Seokjin shouts back, “do think it’s unreasonable to finally give my feelings a chance after debating for 20 fucking years?” 

“Jin-” 

“For god’s sake, Y/N. I have more gray hair than black these days! Do you think I will be joking about getting married with the woman I love at this age?” 

“Are you-”

“Yes! Yes I am serious. I have been loving you since when I was 20 and you were 19. Hell! I took my wedding vows imagining your face and you are now accusing me of pitying you!” Jin’s own face is smeared with tears now. He didn’t even realize when he started crying. 

“Was I the reason behind your unsuccessful marriage?” your voice sounds unsure as you address the elephant in the room. 

“No. It was a marriage of convenience, none of us were happy. It had to end at a point and it did. You have nothing to do with it.” Jin replies, wiping the tears off of his face. 

He finds you biting your lips as you stare at the sea ahead. 

“It’s okay if you-” Jin gets silenced as you whip your head at the speed of lightning and place a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I love you too, Jinnie. I have always been in love with you, maybe even before you fell for me.” you murmur, connecting your forehead with his. 

Tears roll down Jin’s cheeks again, but this time due to happiness. You wipe those with your thumb. 

“Finally.. Finally you are mine.” Jin whispers as he leans in for another kiss. 

“Yeah, you are a little too 20 years late but we are finally there.” you place your lips on his. 

“I love you, Y/N” Jin mumbles in between the kiss, pulling you closer by your waist. 

“I love you too, Jinnie.” You reply, wrapping your hands around his neck. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[heartfullofleeches]

Cemetery Groundskeeper Creep Reader- Looking for some extra cash and a way to attempt getting over their aversion of the living, creep Reader finds the perfect job for themselves in the papers - nightshifts at the local allegedly haunted cemetery. It's the best thing that's ever happened to them. The clean up is wonderful stress relief from a hectic day, and being surrounded by so many graves wards off the dark parts of their mind.

They spend their days learning all about these people and the gruesome demises few have. They take the general knowledge they've obtained and in the dead of night they talk to the graves as if they're making conversation with neighbors and friends. It's easier to talk to somebody when they can't talk back and you can imagine them as the rotten husks they now are which would be unsettling for some, but makes creep reader feel right at home. The feeling of eyes on them makes them want to claw out their skin, but it's safe to say most of these people don't and that makes them happy.

The spirits and ghouls haunting the yard would die a second and third time be apart of their one-sided conversations. Every other human is so gloomy and sad when they come by, but creep reader walks in with the biggest smile someone like them can muster. Their laughter is so much more comforting than all the tears. Creep Reader starts to find food and teddy bears left for the cemetery's residents in their car. They feel eyes on them, but they're so hollow and empty they don't really care. Sometimes there's a face in the rearview mirror when they head home. Sometimes the crows they feed bring them little treasures and wedding rings. Whenever they have to miss a day because they're sick they always notice disturbed dirt near few of the graves like someone had been clawing at the soil with their hands. The statue they finally managed to scrape all that gum off has moved slightly as well, and the tears running down its stone cheeks have dried. They never play too much mind and go about their night cleaning and talking to everyone they've met so far. Maybe someday, if they listened close enough, they'll realize they've always received a reply.

[romchat]

In Blossom visual analysis (ep. 1-7): How to film a gothic romance

Although I'm not completely convinced about some of the writing choices of In Blossom, I absolutely LOVE the show's production design and cinematography. @mademoiselle-red wrote a great post about how main character Pan Yue fits the gothic romantic lead archetype, and those gothic elements are not only present in the script but also in the show's visual storytelling.

Lighting

A key element of gothic romance is its atmosphere of mystery and suspense.

Something I really like about In Blossom is that despite its dark subject matter, many of its scenes take place during the day. One of the show's main themes is that appearances can be misleading and the cinematography often plays with that notion by linking light to deception and darkness to truth. Note how many of the emotionally honest beats of Yang Caiwei and Pan Yue's relationship happen at night (e.g., their couple escapades at the Li Residence, Ghost Market, and Life and Death gambling house) while fakery, corruption, and evildoing happen in the day. It's with this subversion of our expectations for light that the show creates an unsettling atmosphere.

And these lighting choices also help set up Pan Yue as a classic gothic romance anti-hero, someone the female lead, Yang Caiwei, fears but still finds herself drawn to.

Look at how Pan Yue is lit when shot through Yang Caiwei's subjective point of view. The strong use of light creates a lot of contrast--through her eyes, he is a mixture of light and dark, his morality as inscrutable as his shadowy figure.

Camera Angles and Shot Sizes

The show's use of low angles and close-ups further reinforces the idea that Pan Yue is unpredictable and even dangerous.

In cinematography, low-angle shots tend to make the subject look more powerful and menacing, and the show uses this technique to great effect.

Even in the intimacy of close-up shots, we can sense the threat emanating from Pan Yue. He’s always shot just a smidgeon too close for comfort.

For example, look at how much Liu Xueyi's face fills the frame in an early "romantic" scene. The shot feels almost claustrophobic as if he's so single-minded about his goals that he has no choice but to dominate the frame (and Yang Caiwei). It's an unnerving moment despite the soft words coming out of his mouth.

Side Note: I live for Pan Yue's (vampiric) long shots. The production design team was smart for dressing the character in dark clothes with such a sleek cut and drape--he looks like a sexy bat.

The Nosferatu references in Yang Caiwei's tomb are also perfect.

Composition and Framing

And finally, like any good gothic romance, In Blossom illustrates how love can drive one to despair and even madness.

Because of this, my FAVORITE scene of the show has to be the introduction of Shangguan Zhi. Her obsessive pursuit of beauty in hopes of seducing Pan Yue has left her a shell of a human being, and the scene's composition perfectly encapsulates this with how it focuses on the elegant lines of her body--not her face or personhood.

Shangguan Zhi is trapped by her delusional fantasy of a life with Pan Yue--see how she's boxed in by the vertical lines of the screen panel she admires--and the show regularly uses architectural lines to show how her desperation has trapped Yang Caiwei as well.

[dewdropdinosaur]

As the World Caves In

ALASTOR X READER Summary: Alastor has heard his fair share of voices in Hell, none quite like yours though. Warnings: NONE. Except a sassy narrator. Have a wonderful day lovelies! Requests are OPEN, so feel free to ask!

In the heart of Hell, where chaos reigned and sinners roamed, there existed a peculiar location known as the Hazbin Hotel. The sole purpose of such a place to redeem sinners like yourself dear reader, though let's not get too much into that. (We all know why are you on this website darling.) Among its more eccentric residents was Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. He was a charismatic and enigmatic figure, whose mere mention sent shivers down the spines of even the toughest souls in Hell.

One day, as Alastor hummed and strolled through the halls of Hazbin Hotel, he heard a melodic voice echoing from a nearby room. Intrigued, he followed the sound and found Y/N, the cleaner Charlie had hired to aid Niffty in the small demon's never ending pursuit of a bug free haven. Gracefully going about their chores, Y/N sang with a voice that seemed to transcend Hell itself.

The song was unfamiliar to Alastor but nonetheless a haunting melody that told the tale of love amidst impending doom. Alastor, ever the connoisseur of entertainment, paused to listen. Must have been from a time later than him, shocking that a song from not the Roaring era peaked his interest. Though, the lyrics did resonate within him, in such a way that made his demonic heart stir with emotions he thought he'd long pushed down.

"My feet are aching, and your back is pretty tired. And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe. And set our grief aside. The papers say it's doomsday, the button has been pressed. We're gonna nuke each other up boys, 'til old Satan stands impressed."

Y/N, unaware of their creeping audience, continued to sing as they dusted and cleaned. A certain sadness filled their voice but the small smile that graced their face fueled the fires of the red demon's listening. The Radio Demon leaned against the doorway, his crimson eyes fixed on the cleaner. The dichotomy of the cleaner's sweet appearance and the dark setting of Hell created an atmosphere for such a song that was both beautiful and unsettling. The Radio Demon did love his ironies.

"And here it is, our final night alive. As the earth burns to the ground. Oh boy, it's you that I lie with, as the atom bomb locks in. Oh boy, it's you I watch TV with as the world.... as the world caves in."

The world caving in, a sentiment not unknown to Alastor though he might try to deny it. Few times had a performance stirred him to pensive thought, at least not a performance in his afterlife. As the final notes of the song hung in the air, Alastor applauded, his sharp teeth revealed in a sly grin. "My, my, my dear. That was quite the performance. I must say, you have a talent for making even the damned feel something."

Y/N jumped with a small yelp, startled by the sudden presence of the Radio Demon. They looked up at him with a mix of surprise and fear. "Alastor! I didn't realize you were there." Whipping around to face her demonic audience, Y/N felt an all too familiar pit of anxiety well up in her stomach at the sight of Alastor.

"No need to fret, my dear. I simply couldn't resist the allure of your singing," he replied, tipping his cane with a flourish. "I've heard many voices in Hell, but yours… it's truly captivating."

Y/N felt their cheeks flush with color, a compliment is a rarity in the underworld. Nonetheless one from the Radio Demon. "Thank you, Alastor. It's just a little something I do. Keeps spirits up, you know?" Rubbing the back of their neck with a sheepish grin, Y/N let out a small laugh. Almost as musical as their singing voice, Alastor noted that for later.

Alastor chuckled, his laughter statically filling the place. "Ah, the irony of keeping one's spirits up in Hell. Quite amusing, my dear. I do have a soft spot for a good performance. Now tell me, what is your preference for---"

As Y/N nodded along and answered his questions, a peculiar alliance formed between the Radio Demon and the sweet-voiced cleaner. Little did they know that their paths would cross again in this chaotic realm, where the unexpected was always just around the corner.

[yellydany]

Ribcage Crawler (Serperum Arricaris)

"Also known as shriekers, they are another of the many creatures residing in the false ocean. They possess a shrimp or roach-like appearance along with the unsettling traits of other beings coming from this ocean. Despite their horrifying look (notably the uncanny smiling face) they are for the most part harmless to humans and surprisingly can be properly tamed thanks to their omnivore diet and docile nature. Regarding height, they are known to grow larger than adult horses and yet are small in comparison to most wildlife of this sea. They use their antennae as receptors, touching surfaces to both feel and taste. Their limbs have adapted to crawl over surfaces of every kind and use the claw-like appendage of their tail to reach farther areas. Most interestingly, they can emit a high frequency shriek that serves to stun and confuse predators."

[spicyicetea]

My dearest soulmate

So some people wanted a Ganondorf version of my Calamity!reader so I'm finally writing it, enjoy.

An old proverb. Oral legend passed down through the Gerudo families for centuries. Their king, who is only born every century, and his fated love. Many reject this as the truth. Their desire for the king to be free to conquer Hyrule is so strong that they hide the legend. One slip up is all it took for all that work to come undone.

"What did you say?" The King's voice boomed, demanding and harsh.

The servant quivered in fear as her friend stepped forward to explain.

"We were just speaking about an old story we heard from our mothers as children my king. Our apologies for angering you."

"What story? The beginning was similar to an old legend I have read about, this may be the end of what I desire to learn!" He grins, staring down at them.

The shortest woman gulped and began to recite the story as she remembered it,

"Once every 100 years, a king will be born into the Gerudo royal family. He shall bring forth an era of change and power to the Gerudo people. This legendary king will fall victim to a knight chosen by the Sword that seals the darkness. A cycle of pain that can only be broken through union of the king and the Lady of Calamity."

"Lady of Calamity? I haven't yet heard this part of my legend." "Yes... this has been ignored as the Gerudo people of the past could never find her and assumed she didn't exist."

"Well, if she is what I require to win, than we shall find her. Prepare the army, we do not sleep until that woman is found!" The King yelled, walking off to arm himself.

---POV CHANGE---

It was a normal day for the young elven woman. The dark bubbling malice followed her feet padding along the grass through the forest. Her home. She had no choice but to hide from the village people she once regarded as family who exiled her once her powers had emerged. An ancient legend caused her to be thrown to the wolves by her former friends, although it did mean she would avoid execution. Words uttered by Hylians of old had doomed her to a life of solitary suffering unless she succumbed to the fate the world had set for her. But, she would never. Why in the world would she throw herself into the arms of pure and utter evil. Ganondorf. Her soulmate.

Although she had never met him, obviously, the tales of the crimes he had committed against her kind made her fear the man. She herself knew she was far from weak, the malice that follows her beck and call protects her well enough. Yet, she was apparently, his win condition for his atrocities. Just because her people betrayed her, doesn't mean she will betray them.

A dense unsettling air settled over the forest. Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she glanced around the trees cautiously. An arrow whizzed by her face and she jumped back, falling down as a heavy foot was brought down on her chest.

"Stay down Hylian!" The Gerudo woman commanded. "We look for the Lady of Calamity, have you heard that name? Many say she's as tall as us Gerudo and as strong as a Lynel."

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. Perhaps she could hide who she was by lying and going along with the rumors they had heard. Yes, that's a great way to escape!

"Ah, yes! She resides in a nearby village. She protects them from monster attacks." She said hurried in a soft voice.

The Gerudo woman nodded and removed her foot from Y/N's chest. She sat up and held the aching ribs, the pain soon dissipating from fear. An intense wave of nausea overcame her as a strange smell filled her nose. The hot desert sand, Warm Saffina oil and a faint dizzying musk. Her vision shook as she lent down, wiping sweat from her brow.

On the other side of the thick treeline the Gerudo King was having a similar struggle. His head became clouded with the strange pounding of his heart, echoing through his body. The fresh scent of the forest was pierced by a sinful sweet smell. Every step he took, following the scent made him feel as if he was going to collapse. His warriors followed him as he made his way past the trees, staring directly at the meek woman on the floor.

"Lord Ganondorf, are you alright?"

"Stay away," The woman groaned. "I haven't fought for so long to lose to you now, you beast."

"Do not speak to the King like that," One of the warriors yelled, but was silenced as Ganondorf chuckled.

"Look at me woman, where is she?"

"where is who? I do not know the woman you seek! Leave me be!" She growls, ripping at the grass beneath her hands to stay calm.

Ganondorf just chuckles darkly, standing over the woman.

"I know she is here, my wife, my queen to be. Now where does she hide?"

"Nowhere! I live alone in these woods, I do not know the woman you seek. I have never seen a single woman around these parts as tall as any of you!" She declared in rush.

"You're lying, I can sense her!" The King yelled yanking her up by her arm to finally look at him.

The moments their eyes locked he could feel himself fall apart. Her lashes shielded most of her eyes from his gaze, yet the iris' he could see filled him with a strange sensation. Y/N felt her knees buckle and immediately fall apart as he grabbed her, a dull heat drumming where he had made contact, as well as forming deep knots in her abdomen. Her lips parted as she panted, a strange heat settling over the two despite the chill winds in the forest. Ganondorf felt his body begin to hunger for the small woman, noticing the malice prepared to catch her should he drop her. Although, he didn't plan to. Lust. That described the immense, powerful sensation that was taking over his mind. An unstoppable, violent desire to part her thighs and control her small form. His people would worship her, similar to how he already did. She stared up at him in fear, his mind still caught in a trance.

"Ganondorf?" She muttered, worried he would kill her then and there.

The small whimpers just inspired more sinful desires. For her to scream his name into the cold desert nights to consummate their marriage, only his body heat to warm her small, fragile form. Months later for her to have the Gerudo guards at her beck and call as she relaxed in their bed, plump with his young. Years later small red-headed children running around her legs as she carried their youngest child, greeting him back from a battle. Yes, it was all perfect. He would conquer Hyrule for her. For his wife.

I hope you sinners enjoyed that, I know I did. I'm gonna tag those who I saw asking for it so they get notifs. If you like this then go check out my other pieces of writing! Thanks and bye!

Tagged: @professor-petty @simp-erman @kujogoofzeus