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kyuusei-shadowleaf · 1 year

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A Dream Of You

[ Photo by Jacob Rank on Unsplash ]

"Now remember when I told you that's the last you'll see of me Remember when I broke you down to tears I know I took the path that you would never want for me I gave you hell through all the years"

– I Bet My Life, Imagine Dragons

Four Years Ago, Ardenweald

The Veil that stood between Life and Death was still tenuous, then. No longer torn asunder but gossamer-thin in its renewal. Growing stronger. Healing. Soon enough, they said, few would be able to travel between the mortal realms and the Shadowlands.

Kyuusei didn’t care much about what they had to say.

The Dream remained as close to Ardenweald as a lover. And if she went to the cool depths of Tel’andu and slumbered, Kyuusei could walk those forests again in her waking dreams. See the twilight sky littered with stars strange to her, stretching above the canopy. Feel cool grasses beneath her feet.

Could walk with her again. With Delyra.

Sometimes, her love was a fox, lambent and shimmering in her soul’s shape. But on rare occasions, she walked in the form that Kyuu remembered. Slender like the willow, hair laden with midnight. Secrets in her smile. A form outlined in stars.

They talked of nothing most times. After the tears, and the confessions, and the forgiveness. The mending of what had been broken by fire, all those years ago.

But in this dream, Delyra was quiet. She walked silently on two legs next to Kyuusei, their hands entwined, Delyra’s feet leaving no trace in the soft grasses.

“We can’t do this much longer,” she finally said.

Kyuusei looked across. “I know what they said, but we’ll find a way. I’ll go deeper into the Dream. I can make it w-”

Delyra put a finger against Kyuu’s lips, the touch a spark against her skin.

“Shhh. Listen to me, Sei-sei. The Winter Queen’s preparing a gift for Tyrande, for all the kaldorei. A seed made from Elune’s tear. And she’s made an offer to all the souls that suffered. To be part of it, part of something that’ll grow and bring hope to the places it was lost.”

“But… that’s not where you died,” the one still living protested. “I - you died before all that, in the Firelands.”

“You think I didn’t suffer?” Delyra suppressed a quiet laugh. “Sei-sei, I was so angry. Angry at the Horde’s incursions, angry that Tyrande and Malfurion didn’t seem to be doing anything, angry at all of it, so much that I let myself fall under Fandral’s spell. Under his madness. But even in that madness, you were the one I sought out when they came to the Firelands. Beneath all of it, I knew what the Flame had made me. In the end, I realized how wrong I was.”

She looked upwards, midnight hair falling back as Delyra regarded the lights beyond Ardenweald’s canopy.

“When I woke up here, I suffered. Not just because of what I did but because I knew how much you’d suffer. How much you’d blame yourself, hate yourself.” Delyra's soul looked down again, her eyes finding Kyuusei. “And you, you silly thing, you wallowed in it for the longest time.”

Abashed, Kyuusei looked to the grasses at her feet. “I suppose I did.”

“You suppose? If you didn’t have a little bit of Ashamane watching over you, if you hadn’t had me watching over you, you probably would’ve ended up here yourself. And it’s Not. Your. Time.” Del smirked, drawing a finger beneath Kyuu’s chin. “Not yet. I have it on excellent authority.”

Kyuu grasped her lover's star-limned hand, a lopsided grin stealing across her face. “Are you keeping secrets from me, Del?””

“Spoilers, sweetie,” she drawled. “Let the dead keep their secrets. But listen to me. I want, I need you to promise me something.

“Dora dor. Just tell me what.”

“Always leaping in before you know where you’re landing." A soft smile eased Delyra's words. "I’m going to be part of this gift, this hope. And when the time comes, I want to know you’ll be there to guard and protect it. That you’ll watch over it, watch over me, like I’ve been watching you.” She drew in Kyuu’s hand, brushed her lips across sharp-tipped fingers. “Will you promise me that?”

“Of course I will, Del. After everything? Of course. But how will I know? It’s not like I’m someone Tyrande Whisperwind speaks to. I doubt she even knows who I am.”

“You’ll know. Ardenweald’s so close to the Dream they almost touch; they’re part of the same cycle. You know this. Trust me.” She held Kyuu’s hand between both of her own, encasing it in faded stars. “You’ll know. Now promise me, promise you'll watch.”

Kyuusei brought up her other hand, clasping Delyra’s fervently. “I promise to you. Whatever it is, I’ll watch it. I’ll protect it. I’ll protect you.”

“Thank you.”

Delyra’s soul stood still for a moment, then tugged at Kyuu’s hand as she began to walk again beneath the forest’s canopy.

“Now… tell me more about this other druid. What’s her name, Alania? And a druid of the branch, too.” Delyra suppressed a grin, her eyes dancing. “Isn’t she a little young for you?

“She’s a hundred and twelve!” It wasn’t clear if Kyuu’s outrage was genuine or feigned.

“Robbing the creche!” Del’s laughter echoed among the trees, sending shimmermoths fluttering from their perches. “You’ll be a millennia before she’s two hundred. Really, Sei-sei, you and some fresh-faced fledgling who doesn’t even have her tattoos…”

“Hey! You know she does! Lani earned them at…”

A squeeze of Delyra’s hand silenced Kyuu’s protests. “So long as she makes you happy, Sei-sei.” Her tone was softer, reassuring. “That’s all I want, is for you to be happy.””

“I will be,” Kyuu murmured, though doubt belied her words.

“I promise.”

[Reference: Influences - Delyra]

#kyuustory #flashback #delyra #walking with the dead #all apologies to Neil Gaiman for borrowing his title

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corvidcrossbow · 4 months

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~•♡•~ I Like It Long

➳ Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

➳ A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like… wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet 😭🫶)

My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn

You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.

“Sounds pretty clear,” You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.

You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.

“Seems mostly ransacked. Not much left,” Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.

She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. “Think he could use these?” She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.

“Oh definitely. Jus’ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,” You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.

“Shuddup, will ya?” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. “Ts'fine.”

“Gotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?” You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. “You were sweatin’ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ‘n what not. When was the last time you cut it?”

“Don’ kno’, don’ care,” He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. “Plus, winter up ‘ere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.”

“Daryl, you're ‘bout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?” Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. “You remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.”

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

“But you do look like the only ‘scissors’ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,” Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.

Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.

“Give it up, alrigh’?! Ain't nothin’ wrong with mah hair!” He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. “Gon shoot tha botha ya.”

“Ay, ay! Jus’ sayin’. Rick scrapped the beard and… maybe you'll finally get some play too,” She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.

Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.

It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it – but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.

❥-》》—————➣

“Oh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop… god don't stop,” You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.

“Ain't gon stop,” He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.

The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.

“Baby, please… fhuuuckkkk.” You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.

You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.

You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.

“Tha's it girl. Jus’ keep takin’ me good like tha’.”

His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.

And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.

“Daryl… inside.., Dar-” You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.

Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.

You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.

He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.

“Ya alrigh’, sunshine?” He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.

You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself – his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.

You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.

“Ya actually want me tah cut ma hair?” He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.

“Fuck no. Was just messin’ with you, Dixon,” You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. “You know I like it long.”

The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on – and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

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