#well that's just how it is in the woods but I've never experienced it in an urban setting

[alsojnpie]

even when I'm not back home living in the forest i still have to shake out my shoes every time i leave the house. what if there's a bug in there

[vilevenom]

This bad boy is dedicated to @em-doods, because her adorable sketches of Hickory and John Dory meandering through the woods 100% are the reason I wrote this. (She also helped push me through a rather rough patch I had while writing the first bit, so a super extra special thank you there!!)

If given the chance I will write Hickory and John Dory getting together in every conceivable fashion. In this fic, they go camping.

Enjoy!!

"I've never been campin'."

"What?!" John stared wide eyed at Hickory, who looked somewhat bashful at his admittance.

"Well, I mean…I've been campin', but not, y'know, camping," Hickory unhelpfully tried to clarify while John Dory continued to stare at him in disbelief. He sighed, scratching at his cheek as he tried to think of a way to better explain himself. "Dickory an' I would need to camp out once in a blue moon, y'know, when we were out on a hunt. But it was never the kinda campin' where you get to roast marshtatoes or go swimmin'. It was just basic survival."

"Well, I can't let that stand," John said, smacking the table they were sat at with gusto, making Hickory jump. "No way. Camping, proper camping, is one of the best experiences in the world! I don't think I can let you go another second without experiencing the wonders of camping."

And that was how Hickory found himself staring out Rhonda's front window as John drove her into wilderness unlike any he'd seen before. The troll kingdoms were beautiful and unique in their own ways, but this place was truly something else. Rhonda ducked under gnarled branches and crawled through twisting vines, with John confidently at her helm, a broad smile on his face as he described to Hickory where he was taking them. The Neverglade trail, apparently, had all of the best camping spots, and he knew just the one that Hickory would enjoy.

Hickory felt like he was going to be sick, though he plastered a pleasant smile onto his face and nodded along every time John glanced at him while he excitedly spoke about where they were headed. It wasn't that Hickory didn't want to go camping with John. Oh, no. It was the exact opposite, really. He'd been looking forward to this trip since John had declared they were going a few days prior. It was the fact that it was just the two of them. Alone. Together. It made Hickory's heart jump into his throat and his palms sweat.

Thinking back on it, Hickory came to realize that he and John Dory had only really known each other for a handful of months. They'd met when Hickory had gone to Pop Village with the intention of visiting Poppy and Branch, only to find the royal couple surrounded by a group of trolls quickly revealed to be their siblings. Swiftly, Hickory had been introduced to all of Branch's brothers, and Poppy's sister, all while beginning to feel a touch overwhelmed by the new mix of personalities. Not quite sure what to say or how to act, Hickory began to flounder, when one of Branch's brothers had tugged him aside with an easy smile.

"We're a lot, huh?"

"I mean, I dunno if I'd say that, exactly," Hickory had started to demure, only to grunt in surprise as John Dory slapped a hand to his back with a guffaw.

"You don't need to be shy, man. We all know we're a lot. Big personalities," John had reassured, sliding his hand up to rest on Hickory's shoulder. "I know you're here to visit with Branch, but how about we get out of here? I happen to know that everyone else will be buggering off here pretty soon, so you'll have a chance for some one on one time with him and Poppy, but probably not for a couple hours. You can show me around town? I assume you've been here before. I've been here for a whopping three days, so I have no idea where anything is."

Hickory hadn't even realized his shoulders had been tense until they began to relax as John spoke to him. He let a slight smile curl his lips and gave a little nod. "Yeah. I can do that," he easily agreed, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops as they began to walk away from the cluster of trolls.

They'd spent the next couple of hours getting to know each other, and, quite frankly, Hickory couldn't help but to be charmed. John Dory was brash and confident in a way that made him laugh, but was also, somehow surprisingly, incredibly kindhearted.

As they were walking through town, a couple of young trollings had dashed in front of them, only for one to trip and fall directly in front of John Dory. Hickory had fully expected John to, perhaps, help the trolling up and for them to continue on their way, but instead he'd crouched down to the child's level to make sure they were okay. When it was revealed that the trolling had a scrape on their knee, John dug into his hair, pulled out a band-aid, and applied it to the injury without batting an eye. Hickory then watched in amusement as John scooped the kid up into his arms and spun around while theatrically wondering where the trolling's friend could have gone. They, of course, had been right behind John, giggling manically as the teal troll continued to spin and pretend he couldn't see them. Finally, he placed the injured child down, and the two all but begged John to go play with them.

"Sorry, I can't. See this guy behind me," John thrust his thumb over his shoulder towards Hickory, who gave them a little wave "He's my tour guide. And I can't just let him go on touring by himself."

The children whined at him while Hickory chuckled at their antics, but John ultimately encouraged them to continue on with their game, which they reluctantly did when it became obvious that John was just this side of too stubborn for them to persuade.

"That was mighty kind of you," Hickory hummed as they began to walk through the village again.

"Hm? Was it? I dunno," John said with a self depreciating little laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, "Just seemed natural to me. But, that probably comes from being the oldest of five. Lots of bumps and scrapes to take care of when they come running to you for comfort."

Hickory decided to side-step the comment about John's brothers going to him, rather than their parents. He was sure there was a story there, but it sounded like one for another time. "So…Yer the oldest brother, huh?"

John snorted, shoving Hickory playfully with an sheepish grin. "Yes. What's it to ya?"

"Not much. Just didn't much figure Branch havin' a silver fox for a siblin'."

"Silver-?! I am NOT that old. Do you see any grey hair here?!" John huffed, puffing out his chest and pulled his goggles up to show off his very teal roots, earning a laugh from Hickory. "If you must know, Branch is about fourteen years younger than me. The rest are all in between."

"Ah, can't remember with yer ancient brain? Ya need help rememberin', old man? I can always go find one of yer brothers, if ya need assistance."

"That is just uncalled for," John sniffed, looking affronted. Hickory worried for a moment that he'd taken a step too far in his teasing, when John snorted and deflated a bit. "I am getting old, aren't I?"

Hickory clicked his tongue, quickly realizing he had hit a nerve, but not the one he'd thought. "John, if I may, an' if my math is right, yer only thirty-eight. That ain't that old," Hickory reassured, offering a warm smile to the teal troll, "Yer only a few years older than I am, an' I certainly ain't old."

"Oh, yeah? And how old is the whipper snapper?" John joked, obviously lightened a bit by Hickory's reassurance.

"Thirty-two."

"Ah, you're between Clay and Floyd," John hummed, though the comment was obviously directed more towards himself.

Their conversation ebbed and flowed easily as they continued to walk through the village, Hickory occasionally pointing out landmarks or buildings he knew, while John Dory made comments here and there about how different the village was from the tree he's grown up in. He also made a point to let Hickory know that he'd obviously need to get another tour through town, what with his poor old memory not being quite what it used to be. Hickory was fairly certain he'd never had such entertaining conversation with another troll.

Eventually, they wandered back to Branch's bunker, where John bid Hickory adieu with a rather ridiculous and dramatic bow before going on his way, while Hickory descended into the bunker to have his intended visit with Branch and Poppy.

Their catching up truthfully didn't get very far before the topic of the royal couple's recent adventure and estranged siblings came up, and Hickory mindlessly blurted out, "So…what's yer brother like?"

"…which one?" Branch said with a snort, arching an eyebrow at the ex-bounty hunter.

"John Dory."

Branch seemed to think for a moment, while Poppy gave Hickory an awkward smile. "He's an obnoxious, self-centered know-it-all."

Hickory blinked, quite taken aback by Branch's opinion of his brother. "Really? I never woulda guessed that by the way he was actin' today…"

"Well, to be honest, he may be my brother, but I don't really know him that well. We haven't seen each other in twenty years, but that's the impression I've gotten of him so far," Branch said with a quiet sigh. "He'll be staying in Pop Village for a while, since Floyd is recovering. Maybe if I give him some time, my opinion will change? But, that's what I've got for now."

Hickory hummed thoughtfully, and decided he would give it some time, as well. He bounced back and forth between Lonesome Flats and Pop Village over the next few months, and never once did John Dory give Hickory the impression of being self-centered, nor did he ever become obnoxious. In fact, he continued to prove the exact opposite. Nearly every time Hickory visited, John was with Branch, Floyd, or both, supporting his younger brothers in whatever they might need. And whenever Hickory made himself known, John offered to make himself scarce so Hickory could visit with Branch unimpeded. Eventually, however, Hickory had to reveal that he'd been intending to visit John the entire time, and that had been something of an awkward chat in and of itself. The sheer surprise that had shown on John's face when Hickory admitted that he wanted to spend more time with John had certainly made his heart twist in an unexpected way.

In the end, the longer Hickory spent with John Dory, the more he seemed to develop a rather inconvenient crush on the teal troll. Especially when he did things as sweet and thoughtful as remembering Hickory had casually mentioned once that he had a soft spot for a particular cupcake made by one particular stand in the market, but he was never early enough to get one. John had presented one to Hickory with a proud little grin on his face the next time the country troll visited. Or the way he obviously thought about Hickory even when they weren't together, as on one occasion when he'd trotted up to Hickory and presented him with a rather fancy looking silver belt buckle emblazoned with intricate little flower patterns. He'd said he'd picked it up in his travels and was going to toss it away, but perhaps Hickory would like it, instead?

Now, most trolls would probably consider such actions to be relatively basic indications of friendship. However, Hickory had had so few friends, or trolls who cared for him (and not a character he and his brother created) that he couldn't help but feel special when John gave him his undivided attention. And he had a sneaking suspicion that John Dory was much the same.

He mentioned the incidents to Poppy and Branch the next time he sat down with them to chat, the former of whom cooed happily at the revelation, while the later gagged quietly.

"I…I think he's got my heart all a flutter. What do I do?" Hickory asked, head in his hands where he sat at Branch's kitchen table. He felt like a little kid, telling his friends about a crush he had on some troll well out of his league. He felt especially foolish that said friend was his crushes younger brother, who was watching him with a wrinkled nose.

"Why are you asking me? At this point, I'm pretty convinced that you know JD better than I do," Branch said with a slight grimace.

"Oh, that's so cute," Poppy gushed, waving her hands at Hickory as he glanced up at her with a long suffering sigh. "Don't give me that look. It is! I've seen you two walking around town together."

"We certainly get along like a house on fire, but I don't know what to do. I haven't done this in a while. Least, not properly," Hickory sighed, slumping onto the table they were sat around.

"I don't know, man. Talk to him about camping? That seems to be one of his favorite things," Branch offered with a shrug. "Maybe that'll help lead the conversation into something?"

And Hickory had, which did indeed lead to this whole escapade in the first place. Perhaps it would allow him the opportunity to talk to the teal troll about his feelings. If he could work up the courage to do so, that is. Especially with the discouraging little voice in the back of his head that kept telling him that if the conversation went south, he was either going to be left in the wilderness on his own, or have a very awkward trip back to Pop Village.

"How much further are we gonna haveta go to get to this mysterious campin' spot a' yers?" Hickory asked, arching an eyebrow as John turned Rhonda down yet another trail.

"Oh, not too much further, I don't think," John hummed with a smile, shooting Hickory a wink that made the ex-bounty hunter need to immediately step away to try and hide the blush that bloomed across his cheeks.

They drove in relative silence for a few more minutes, before John finally pulled Rhonda over, and Hickory managed to calm himself down enough that his cheeks were no longer enflamed.

"Here we are!" John declared, as he spun the drivers seat around to grin widely at Hickory, who offered a slightly mollified one of his own. "Now, grab your gear, we've got a bit of a hike."

"Wait, this isn't where we're campin'?" Hickory asked, watching John pull an overstuffed backpack with a sleeping roll tied to it from atop his loft bed.

"What? No, of course not. You can't get a full and proper camping experience if we're staying in Rhonda. That's, like…'glamping', or whatever. No, if you want a proper camping trip, we gotta hike a bit further in and set up tents!" John exclaimed excitedly, pulling the straps of his bag over his shoulders.

"If ya say so," Hickory said with an awkward chuckle, grabbing his much smaller bag and sleeping roll from where he'd stashed them and following John out of Rhonda.

"Now, you be a good girl," John cooed at Rhonda as Hickory stepped up behind him, "There are lots of berry bushes here, so there's loads to eat. You make sure you're back here in a couple of days, okay?" Hickory watched in amusement as John half wrapped himself around the armadillo bus's face in the closest approximation of a hug as he could get as she churred at him happily.

"Y'sure it's okay t' just leave her here?" Hickory asked as they began to walk away, the ex-bounty hunter shooting Rhonda furtive glances the further away from her they got.

"Oh, yeah. She's a good girl. Even if she's not there when we get back, she usually comes when I call, or we'll just need to wait a day or two when we get back," John reassured, as Hickory watched the energetic bus dart off into some bushes.

"…right."

And so on they went, Hickory diligently following along behind John, until he inevitably got distracted by the massive trees and flora they were hiking past. To the rather unfortunate point where John disappeared beyond a bend before Hickory had even realized he'd been left behind.

"Hey, John, have ya ever-" he'd begun as he turned from staring at a large, drooping orange flower, only to find himself completely alone. "…John?" Hickory tentatively took a few steps forward, glancing this way and that to see if he could spot the teal troll, without luck. "Sugar," he grumbled to himself, unsure if he should proceed forward, or wait to see if John would notice his absence and turn back around to find him.

Just as he turned to sit himself beneath the flower he'd gotten distracted by, a rustling in the bush startled him into pulling a knife from his pocket and brandishing it with a snarl on his face. John had warned him, at one point on their drive here, that wild critters of all shapes and sizes roamed the Neverglades, and that he should be wary of being snuck up on, lest he be eaten. John had said it like it was a joke, but Hickory had noticed the scars John's fur hadn't quite fully grown over. He had no doubt there were plenty of critters who would like nothing more than to get a taste of troll out here, and he was not eager to give them said taste.

So, he stood his ground and waited, until finally John Dory came stumbling out of the brush, leg half tangled in a bramble.

"There you are!" John laughed, shaking the bramble off his leg as Hickory quickly tucked his knife back away, "I turned around to point out some funky looking moss and you were gone."

"Sorry 'bout that. Got caught up admirin' this here flower," Hickory admitted abashedly, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder.

"No worries, man! Just gotta make sure I keep a better eye on you," John chuckled, reaching out and unexpectedly taking Hickory's hand. The country troll felt his cheeks heat up, but luckily John had turned to start tugging him along down the trail, and so missed it entirely. "Don't want you getting lost on me!"

"No, no. Don't wanna get lost," Hickory muttered mostly to himself, his gaze stuck pretty strictly on their clasped hands now, rather than the gorgeous scenery they were walking past. Occasionally John would point something out to Hickory, which would pull the country trolls gaze up for a short period of time, before inevitably trailing back down to their hands.

John didn't let go until they reached a rocky path that lead up what most creatures would probably consider a small foot hill, but was nearly the equivalent of a mountain to the two trolls. The path wound up along the side of the hill, and was only just wide enough for them to walk up one at a time. Hickory did his best to hide his disappointment as John let him go and began to trek up the hillside.

"C'mon! If we're where I think we are, there's a great spot at the top of the hill where we can stop and have lunch," John said, glancing back at Hickory with a bright grin.

"Alright, I'mma comin'," Hickory chuckled, shifting the pack on his shoulders and following along after John.

The two managed to make it about halfway up the hill when they came across a slightly wider spot on the trail, overlooking a rather picturesque little area of the Neverglades.

"Too bad there's not more of a plateau here," John lamented as Hickory stopped next to him, "This would be a great spot to stop for lunch."

"Yeah. S'real pretty," Hickory hummed, turning to look out at the view.

"Wish I'd brought my camera," John added with a despondent sigh, "But I left it in Rhonda."

"Well, ain't that just lucky for you, then," Hickory said with a smile, reaching over his shoulder into his pack, "Because I just so happen to have brought one along." He pulled a little instant camera out of his bag and handed it to John, who snatched it eagerly.

"Awesome! Say cheese," John said with a grin, holding the camera out in front of the two and snapping a photo. Hickory blinked at the flash that went off, trying to get rid of the little flare in his vision.

"Some warnin' woulda been nice," he groused quietly, rubbing at his eyes.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have gotten such a great candid shot," John hummed, pulling the photo free of the camera and waving it slightly. He snorted once the image developed, holding it out to Hickory. "See? Perfect moment."

Hickory wrinkled his nose at the photo, which showed a happily grinning John and Hickory looking like he was, perhaps, about to sneeze. "Yeah. Real flatterin'," he muttered, reaching for the photo.

"Hey now, nuh-uh," John said quickly, pulling the photo back to hold against his chest, before quickly stuffing it into his hair, "This one's mine."

"Aw, come on, now," Hickory grumped, reaching for John's hair, "We can take a better one. You don't need t' keep that."

"No," John quickly took a step back, while shoving the camera into his hair as well, "I like it. It's mine, and you can't have it."

"Don't be childish, John," Hickory sighed, reaching for the teal trolls hair again as John quickly took another step back and snorted.

"Have you met me? I'm the least childish troll out there."

"Mhmm, you keep tellin' yerself that," Hickory chuckled, taking another step after John, only for both of them to freeze at a rather ominous cracking sound that emanated around them. "What was-" Hickory barely managed to get the words out, before he felt his foot beginning to sink as the path beneath him began to give way, and the sound of tumbling rocks hit his ears.

"Hickory!"

The ex-bounty hunter gasped as his footing slipped, quickly scrambling for John's reaching hands. The teal troll had his hair wrapped around some roots that were sticking out of the side of the hill, anchoring him as he grabbed for Hickory as he began to fall.

"I gotcha, I gotcha," John chanted as Hickory managed to grab hold of him, using his hair to pull them both away from the crumbling section of path. Once they were both on a more stable spot, Hickory opened his eyes, which he hadn't even realized he'd clenched shut, to find himself practically nose to nose with John Dory, both of them panting like they'd just run a mile.

"You okay?" John quietly asked after a beat, grip still tight on Hickory as he stared up at him.

"Bit shaken up, but I think I'll be right as rain here right quick," Hickory murmured back, glad that the adrenaline of his near death experience and lack of breath were more than enough excuse for how dark his cheeks must be from their proximity. If he just moved his head ever so slightly, he could kiss John Dory right then and there.

"Good," John's voice shattered Hickory's momentary daydream, a short pat on his shoulder telling Hickory to move away. Which he did, taking a quick step back to give John space. "I think we're close to the top now. I'd definitely say we earned our lunch."

Hickory let out a little laugh, hoping it didn't come off as nervous or anxious. "Well, you certainly did," he said, following after John, "All I did was nearly fall down the hill."

"Yeah, but you didn't," John said, glancing briefly back at Hickory, "Doesn't that also deserve celebration?"

Hickory smiled to himself as he followed after John, mentally telling his heart to shut up as it did a little summersault in his chest at John's words.

They reached the summit of the hill rather quickly after that, not stopping until they knew they were on completely stable ground, neither wanting to risk a repeat incident.

"Here we go," John sighed as they reached the top, swinging his bag off his back, "This looks like a great spot to stop for a bit."

Hickory let out a little whistle as he also set his bag on the ground, turning in a small circle to take in the views. "It's a mighty nice spot, that's for certain," he hummed, only turning back to John when he heard the tell-tale click of his camera. He snorted a quiet laugh, arching an eyebrow at John as he pulled the photo from the camera and began to wave it in the air. "Whatcha got there?"

"Memories," John stated, a little smile curling his lips as the photo developed.

Hickory felt his heart skip a beat at the look on John's face, before he cleared his throat and stepped over to take a look at the snap shot. It was a bit of an odd angle, obviously taken hastily while Hickory had his back turned, but it was a nice photo all the same. The rolling hills and vast trails stretching out into the distance could be easily seen just past Hickory's shoulder.

"S'not a bad shot," the ex-bounty hunter hummed, reaching for the photo, only to find it disappearing into John's hair to join the previous one.

"Sure is," John said with a cheeky grin, before turning to start pulling a blanket and some food from his bag.

"Cheeky," Hickory laughed, joining John on the blanket once he had it all rolled out.

They ate in relative silence for a bit, simply enjoying each others company and the view, until the camera came back out of John's hair.

"I regret givin' that thing to ya," Hickory snorted after John snapped a photo of him while he was about to take a bite of his sandwich.

"You can't blame me for wanting to document your first camping trip," John said, sticking his tongue out at Hickory, who simply rolled his eyes and continued to eat, "It's a big deal, y'know. You're trying to start fresh, try new things, be a different troll from who you once were. Taking these baby steps, even just going on a camping trip for fun, it's a lot. You said it's something you've never done before, right? You should have something to remember it by."

Hickory stared at John for a long moment, a slow smile working its way across his face. "Why, that's real sweet of you, Johnny." His smile widened into a cheshire grin as as he watched John's cheeks darken at his comment.

"Shut up," John grunted, a smile betraying his grumpy tone as he flicked a small rock at Hickory, who easily dodged it with a laugh.

They finished up their meal while chatting amicably about the trail thus far, with John animatedly regaling Hickory with stories about the first time he came up this way, long before he'd had Rhonda. He admitted it was part of the reason he'd wanted to bring Hickory to this particular spot, as it held a certain amount of nostalgia for him, since it'd been one of the first spots he'd stopped while exploring the trails.

"Ya certainly do got a lot of good memories out here, dontcha?" Hickory hummed as they packed up their bags, a soft little smile on his face as he listened to John hum to himself while retying his bag shut.

"Sure do," John chirped, before pulling the camera from his hair again and walking over to Hickory.

"Aw, what now?" Hickory snorted, somewhat wary of the camera, now that he knew John was going to take every opportunity he could to snap unflattering photos of him.

"Nothing. Come here," John said, turning Hickory so his back was to the view. He opened his mouth to protest as John stole his cowboy hat and set it aside, only to snap it closed as John wrapped an arm around his shoulder and tugged him down into his shoulder. "There. Plenty of warning this time," John chuckled, cheek practically pressed to Hickory's, "Say 'cheese'!" He held the camera up and the flash went off. Hickory blinked to get ride of the afterimage, rubbing at his eye in mild irritation as John pulled the photo from the camera. "Nice," the teal troll hummed, a warm smile curling his lips. After a moment he offered it to Hickory. "You can have this one, if you want."

Hickory took the photo with mild suspicion, knowing full well the caliber of photo John had been taking thus far, only to be pleasantly surprised by what he saw. John was grinning widely in the photo, his arm blocking the lower left corner of the frame, while Hickory looked a little dazed, with a slightly crooked smile on his own face, and his cheek squished against John's. In the background over John's shoulder the spectacular view from the top of the hill could be seen, with the sunlight speckled across the trees at just the right angle.

Hickory was pulled from his admiration of the photo by John chuckling practically in his ear, just over his shoulder, pack already strapped to his back and bouncing on his toes. "You struck speechless by my excellent photography skills?"

"Somethin' like that," Hickory said with a quiet laugh, carefully tucking the photo into the inside pocket of his vest before scooping his hat up from where John had set it and slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

The trek down from the hilltop was far less perilous than the trip up had been. To Hickory's great disappointment, John did not take his hand again once they'd reached the bottom, and in what felt like no time at all, John lead them to what he declared would be their camp site. It was a rather sizeable clearing, with bushes and tall grass most of the way around it, with only two trails leading away from it, aside from the one they'd come down to reach it. John explained that one lead to a little lake they could go swimming in, while the other lead further into the Neverglades.

"Alright," John declared, dropping his pack onto the ground with a thump, "Did you bring a tent?"

Hickory flushed, setting his own bag down more gingerly. "'Fraid not. Not gonna lie, I thought we'd be stayin' with Rhonda," the country troll admitted, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "But, it wouldn't be the first time I've slept under the stars, so I'll be just fine."

John scoffed, rolling his eyes as he began to unpack his bag, tossing tent pegs and ropes onto the ground in front of him. "Don't be ridiculous. My tent is plenty big enough for two. Besides, you never know what critter might come across camp in the middle of the night. A tent gives us at least a bit of cover."

"Ah," Hickory's brain froze for a moment, the idea of being tucked up close to John in a tent sending a little shiver down his spine. "Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat, ducking his head so the brim of his hat would hopefully hide the blush that was yet again creeping across his cheeks, "Yeah, that'd be right as rain."

"Good," John grunted, pulling folded up tent poles from his bag, "Well, since that's settled, how about you start setting up a spot for the fire while I put up the tent?"

"Sure thing," Hickory said with a quick nod, turning to wander around the camp site to pick up some stones to mark a space for a small fire pit. He paused and glanced up when he heard the soft, tell-tale sound of a pile of fabric hitting the ground, fully expecting John to have tossed the tent from his bag, ready to offer his help once again, only to bite his tongue at the realization that it was his jacket that John had tossed aside. The teal troll was busy setting up the tent poles, a little frown of concentration on his face while he worked, completely unaware of Hickory staring at him from across the clearing. "Sugar," Hickory breathed, jerking into motion quickly as John glanced at him from where he was working.

"Hey, how about, after this, we go for a swim."

"A swim?" Hickory echoed, tucking a rock into the small collection in his arm while turning to arch an eyebrow at John, only to nearly drop them all at being presented with John leaning against one of the erected tent poles, a little smirk on his face and sweat beading on his brow.

"Yeah! It's kinda humid today, and setting up this tent is making me sweaty. I think a pre-dinner swim would be nice, don't you?" John said with a little laugh, shoving himself off the pole to start gathering the fabric of the tent up from the ground. "Work up a bit of an appetite before we eat."

Hickory swallowed thickly as John tossed the fabric over the tent frame he'd set up, his brain taking a moment to catch up to what was being said to him. "Oh! Yeah! Yeah, that'd be a right fine idea," he agreed, shaking his head quickly to try and get his mind off of the sweaty, half naked troll across from him. "C'mon, Hickory. Get yer act together," he grumbled to himself, walking to a spot he thought would be good for the fire and dropping his collection of rocks.

"I think you might be too close to the tents."

"Sugar, honey an' iced tea!" Hickory exclaimed, whipping his head in John Dory's direction, who grinned sheepishly at him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to catch you off guard. What's got your head in the clouds, anyway?" John asked, propping his hands on his hips and tilting his head at Hickory, reminding the country troll of a particularly adorable cuddle pup.

"Ah, y'know, just , uh, doin' a mental checklist. Tryin' to remember if I brought my swim gear," Hickory offered with an awkward little laugh. "Sorry. What were ya sayin'?"

"Even if you forgot yours, you can always borrow mine. I don't mind swimming in my regular shorts," John offered with an easy smile, "And I was just saying that I think where you're setting up the fire might be too close to the tents."

Hickory looked between where John had most of the tent set up, barring the tent pegs being hammered into the ground, and the pile of rocks he'd dropped on the ground to find that he was, indeed, just a bit too close. One good breeze in the wrong direction could carry embers onto the fabric. "Oh. Beggin' yer pardon," the country troll apologized quickly, bending to pick the rocks back up, "I really was too lost in my own head just then, wasn't I?"

"Hey, happens to the best of us," John laughed, shrugging a bit. "Just move it a bit over there," he gestured vaguely away from the tent, "And it should be fine. I think I saw a decently sized stick over there, too. We can move it into the clearing to sit on later, by the fire."

Hickory nodded, dropping his rocks where John had gestured. "This whole campin' for fun thing is turnin' out to be a lot like campin' for survival," he noted, arching an amused eyebrow at John who snorted and trotted back over to the tent.

"Set up is always a pain. Same with take down. But all of the in between is great," John shot Hickory a charming smile, completely unaware of how it made the ex-bunty hunters heart flutter, before crouching down to hammer in the tent pegs. "Just you wait!"

"Sounds like a plan," Hickory muttered, though he very much doubted he was heard over the sound of the hammer. Which was probably for the best, as he had to shake himself out of staring after the teal troll once again.

In relative short order, Hickory set up his little circle of rocks while John finished up with the tent pegs. He then shoved his way through the brush surrounding the clearing to see about gathering up some wood for the fire they would be building when they got back from swimming. He deposited his selection of twigs, sticks and bark next to his rock circle once he figured he had enough for the night, just as John finished tying off a large tarp above where he'd finished setting up the tent.

"Y'all set?" Hickory asked, trotting up to John as the teal troll wiped his brow with the back of his hand, dislodging his goggles so they sat askew on his head.

"I think so. We're looking pretty good!" John chirped, grinning up at Hickory.

"I'd say so," Hickory agreed easily with a quiet little laugh, reaching out to fix John's crooked goggles. John looked startled by the gesture, Hickory barely catching a glimpse of a dark flush creeping over John's cheeks before the teal troll turned away from him once his hands dropped away. He took a quick step back, watching as John swiftly moved across the campsite to dig into his bag. Intrigued by the reaction, Hickory made a mental note about it for later.

"Did you bring your trunks?" John's voice snapped Hickory back to reality.

"Pretty sure," Hickory hummed, shuffling over to his bag to dig into it and pull out his swim shorts.

"Great! Then get changed, and we'll head down to the water," John said, staring at Hickory expectantly.

Hickory stared right back, slowly arching an eyebrow at the teal troll. "You gonna stare at me the whole time I'm changin', or just for the first little bit?" He snorted quietly as John's face lit up as he turned on his heel to face away from Hickory. The ex-bounty hunter shook his head with a quiet laugh, setting his hat aside and quickly changing into his swim trunks. He then dug into his bag and pulled out the beach towel he'd packed, draping it over his shoulders as he cleared his throat. "All set. You gonna change, too?"

"Nah," John hummed, glancing at Hickory over his shoulder, though he did pull off his goggles and glove to toss them into the tent. "I'm just gonna go as is. These shorts are already sweaty and dirty, may as well sorta wash 'em by swimming with them on."

"All right," Hickory chuckled, stepping up next to John, "Lead the way, then."

And so John did, after grabbing his own towel from his belongings. The path down to the lake was relatively short and straight forward, but John seemed to take pride in leading Hickory around, so he diligently followed along with an indulgent smile on his face. The lake itself was relatively small, as John had already mentioned, but that didn't make it any less picturesque than the rest of the Neverglades had been thus far. The shores were soft slopes of jutting rock and densely packed dirt, surrounded by drooping trees with their branches and leaves barely grazing the water, causing little ripples every time the wind blew. Early evening sunlight was dappled across the surface of the lake, making it sparkle.

"My," Hickory breathed, almost feeling like he shouldn't be there. Like he was intruding on sacred ground.

"It's real pretty, isn't it?" John hummed quietly next to him, "Almost makes you not want to swim."

Hickory opened his mouth to agree with the sentiment, only to jump slightly as John let out a whoop of a shout while tossing his towel aside, before running towards the water. Hickory couldn't contain his laughter as John jumped from the shore as he reached the waters edge, canon balling into the lake with a large splash.

"Well, that's one way to do it, I s'pose," Hickory chuckled to himself, tossing his towel next to John's. He let out a shout of his own once John surfaced further out into the lake, running and tossing himself into the water with gusto. He surfaced to the sound of John's laughter, followed shortly by a splash of water to the face. "Hey now," he laughed, returning the splash blindly, figuring he'd hit his target based on the sound of John sputtering. He wiped water from his face and grinned at finding John coughing and blinking water from his eyes. "That's what ya get for tryin' a sneak attack," Hickory stated, self satisfied smirk on his face.

"I'll show you sneak attack," John grumbled to himself, before launching himself through the water at Hickory with a yell. Hickory let out a startled shout in response, flailing rather uselessly in the water before John tackled him around the chest and dragged him under the surface.

The two tussled in the water like that for some time, with John using any means necessary to try and catch Hickory off guard as they swam back and forth across the lake, waging war with sweeping splashes. Hickory finally called it quits when John tried to use a handful of slimy lake weeds to retaliate against Hickory for managing to dunk him underwater.

"All right, I'm think I'm done," the country troll sighed, pulling an especially long piece of weed from his hair and tossing it aside.

"Aww, but we haven't even been out here that long," John practically pouted, earning a fond smile form Hickory.

"Never said we had to go back. Just that I think the war is over," Hickory hummed, kicking his feet off the bottom of the lake to float on his back. He watched John continue to pout for a minute out of the corner of his eye, before the teal troll began to swim towards the shore. "Where are ya goin'?" he called, turning to tread water with a small frown on his face.

"If you're done," John called back, walking up onto the shore, running fingers through his water logged locks, "I'm gonna work on my canon balls."

Hickory was quite certain that John had no idea the kind of sight he made as he trotted along the lakeside, looking for a good spot to use as a pseudo-diving board. He kept absently running his fingers though his hair, which supplied a steady supply of water droplets that cascaded down over his torso, which Hickory had to fight with every fiber of his being not to watch as they made their way down to the ground. The country troll had never been so happy to be submerged in water as he was just then, letting himself sink so his nose was barely above the surface as he watched John Dory pause at a particularly large rock and nod to himself. The teal troll climbed up onto it and shot Hickory a winning grin once he was at the top, waving enthusiastically, before letting out a bellow and tossing himself into the water. He was completely, stupidly endearing and Hickory knew that if he didn't say something by the end of this trip, he might just go insane.

John continued his cycle of climbing out of the water and jumping enthusiastically back in for some time, Hickory not even noticing that the sun had began to set with how enraptured he was with watching. That was, until the teal troll finally scooped his towel up from the ground instead of running off to his chosen diving rock.

"Hey, it's getting late," John called out to him, gesturing that he should swim to shore, "We should probably go get started on the fire and make some dinner."

"Oh! Right. Dinner," Hickory muttered to himself, before he began to swim back to shore, shivering as he climbed out of the water and a cool breeze swept across the lake.

"C'mon. We'll get a nice big fire going, and get you toasty warm," John said with an easy smile, handing Hickory his towel.

Hickory bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something stupid like 'Or you could warm me up', and instead murmured a quiet thanks as he took his towel and rubbed at his sopping hair.

"I brought some classic camping food," John hummed as he began to lead the way back up to their campsite, Hickory hot on his heels, "Hotdogs to roast over the fire, and marshtatoes for later!"

"Sounds swell," Hickory said with a little nod, draping his towel over his shoulders as they reached the campsite. "By the by, where did ya say that stick was? The one we could use as a bench near the fire?"

"Right! We should move that first," John said as he snapped his fingers, and pointed towards a patch of grass near the tent.

Moving the stick was only a small struggle when they discovered it was actually much larger than they had anticipated, as part of it was buried in the dirt. Luckily, what Hickory lacked in tenting supplies, he made up for in random assorted other items that John, apparently, neglected to bring along. Such as a hatchet. He made rather quick work of hacking into the stick and cutting off the portion John had indicated would make good seating, and if he happened to flex a bit more than he normally would because he caught John watching out of the corner of his eye, well, who could blame him?

The two of them managed to drag the end of the stick over to the little circle of rocks without much trouble after that, and Hickory promptly dropped himself onto it once it was settled where John thought would be the best spot.

"Gonna need to go for another swim, after that," the ex-bounty hunter joked, kicking his feet out in front of himself as John crouched next to the rocks and began to set up the bits of bark Hickory had gathered.

"If there are enough glow flies in the area we can go for a night swim, if you want," John muttered, half distracted as he struck a match and lit the kindling he'd set up. Gently, he blew into the small pile of bark and twigs until the flames began to grow, a proud little smile on his face as he slowly fed twigs into it until it was large enough that he could put a couple of the larger sticks on. Once it seemed like he thought the fire wouldn't need to be babied further he stood with a pop of his knees and a crack of his back, a low groan leaving him as Hickory winced in sympathy.

"That sounded like it hurt," Hickory commented idly as John dropped onto the stick next to him with a grunt.

"Don't get old," John joked, laughing as Hickory shoved him lightly.

"I'll remind ya, since yer memory's apparently goin', that I'm only a few years younger than ya. Yer knees ain't the only ones that make noise when ya stand up," Hickory said as he rolled his eyes. "Anyhow, d'ya really reckon we could go swimmin' at night? Y'don't think that'd be dangerous, with all the critters roamin' around?"

John shrugged, watching the flames as their fire slowly grew. "I mean, I don't see why not. Like I said, there just needs to be enough glow flies so we can see. The stars out here are pretty bright, but it's better if there are glow flies. They're a really good, obvious, first alert system if something is close by."

"Cause they'll fly away," Hickory hummed with a nod, "Smart."

"Yeah. It's something my dad taught me, a long time ago," John sighed wistfully, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees, his gaze distant. Hickory took that as his queue to go and fetch the hotdogs from John's bag, as well as grabbing a couple of sticks from their little stash to spear the hotdogs with.

"Here," Hickory gently nudged John in the shoulder with his own, offering the teal troll one of the sharpened sticks as John visibly blinked himself back into reality.

"Oh! Thanks," John chuckled, gingerly taking the stick from Hickory, "Sorry. Sort of zoned out there. Didn't mean to get so lost in thought."

"It's alright," Hickory said with a small shrug, cutting open the package of hotdogs to spear one on the end of his stick, "Happens to the best of us. Mind if I ask what ya were thinkin' 'about?"

"Just family junk," John offered with a little shrug of his shoulders, taking a hotdog of his own and stabbing it a bit more violently than strictly necessary.

"I assume 'bout yer dad?"

John clicked his tongue, a wry little smile turning the corner of his lips. "Yeah. A bit. More about my brothers, though, I guess. I never did this with any of them," he gestured vaguely at their campsite. "I got to go camping once with my dad, and he taught me loads. But none of my brothers got to. And then things just sort of got crazy out of hand, and I never got to take any of them." He paused, sitting up and shooting Hickory an apologetic smile. "Sorry. This is supposed to be a fun trip, you don't need me babbling about family drama."

"I don't mind," Hickory reassured, gently resting his free hand on John's elbow, "Don't got much family, myself, aside from my older brother, an' that's a whole can a' worms on it's own…But, I don't mind hearin' 'bout other folks family. If ya need someone with a willin' ear, I'm always here."

John turned his head to look at Hickory, his gaze almost searching as his brow furrowed slightly. "That means a lot," he murmured, shifting so he could take the hand on his elbow into his own, entwining their fingers together. "I really…I really like talking to you, Hickory. I know we haven't known each other that long, but you mean a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to me, too, Johnny."

John seemed to think for a moment, watching Hickory intently, before he leaned down to prop his stick between two of the rocks around their fire. He then took Hickory's and did the same with it, before turning sideways on their make-shift bench and taking Hickory's hands in his own. He visibly swallowed, thumbs brushing the backs of Hickory's hands, which sent little shivers up the country's trolls spine.

"You okay, John?" Hickory asked, leaning forward slightly with a concerned frown.

"Can I kiss you?"

It was said so quietly Hickory thought, perhaps, he was hearing things. "Pardon?"

John flushed, his ears drooping slightly as he gave Hickory's hands a little squeeze. "Can I kiss you?" he repeated a little louder, gaze fixed on their hands. "I might've been reading you wrong, but I think…I think you want to kiss me, too? It's okay, if you don't. I won't be offended, and we can pretend this never happened, I just…" He lifted his gaze, letting out a little breath, "I really want to kiss you."

"John Dory," Hickory stated, tugging John's hands closer so the teal troll was forced to lean further towards him, "If ya don't kiss me right this instant, I will be madder than a wet hen."

"Can't have that," John chuckled, before tilting his head and pressing his lips to Hickory's.

It was like pop rocks were poured down Hickory's spine, little tingles igniting what felt like every nerve ending as John shifted closer on their little bench so he could kiss the country troll more deeply. Their hands parted from each other, only to slide into hair and cling to shoulders, earning little shivers and soft sighs each time their lips parted for a moment for air.

"C'mon," John breathed after a time that Hickory's mind could hardly fathom, though the world was distinctly darker than it was before he got lost in John's lips. John stood, a hand outstretched towards Hickory in offering.

Hickory took it without hesitation, letting John lead him to their tent, anticipation twisting in his gut, their dinner and plans of swimming long forgotten.

~

When Hickory woke the next morning, it was to a tent distinctly devoid of John Dory. Groggily, he rubbed at his face as he sat up and looked around, finding what he assumed was John's silhouette on the outside of the tent, puttering around their campsite. He grunted as he shoved away the blankets he'd gotten tangled up in during the night and somehow managed to locate his pants and belt, tugging them on quickly before he stumbled into the morning light.

"Good morning!" John's voice was chipper and loud, making Hickory cringe slightly as he finger combed his hair.

"Mornin'," the country troll drawled, squinting against the sun until he found his hat and tugged it on, letting out a contented little sigh. He turned to find John Dory hovering over the fire, poking at what appeared to be eggs cooking on top of a flat stone. "Yer up mighty early."

"Habit," John said with a shrug, "Once the sun is up, I'm up."

"Disgusting," Hickory snorted, earning a light laugh from John.

"Yeah, well, can't be helped," John hummed, grabbed a large leaf and scooping one of the eggs from the stone onto it with a knife. "Forgot to bring plates, so you're going to have to deal with eating off a leaf with your fingers."

Hickory took the leaf happily, trotting over to their stick bench and sitting down. "I think I can live with that."

"Good, 'cause there wasn't much in terms of other options," John snorted, taking up his own leaf and egg before knocking the flat rock off the fire and walking over to the stick to sit as well.

They ate their breakfast quietly, John staring off into the fire, while Hickory let his eyes drift shut, smiling slightly to himself as he let the early morning sounds of the forest wash over him. He felt peaceful and calm, a warm little ember in his chest growing steadily at the knowledge that the troll his heart chose to beat wildly for was sat next to him and felt the same. Or, so he assumed.

"Hickory," John's quiet but serious tone shattered the tranquility of the forest, and drew Hickory from his revere. He blinked and turned his gaze towards John, who was still staring intently into the fire.

"What is it?"

"About last night…"

Hickory frowned, his posture stiffening at the words John spoke. He had to force his fingers to not tremble around the leaf he held. "What about it?"

"It doesn't-…Look, I know I dragged you all the way out here, and I'm your only way home, so just in case," John rambled, speaking without taking a breath, "It doesn't have to mean anything. We don't…If you felt obligated, I'm sorry. We can pretend nothing happened and go home right now, if you want."

Hickory stared John down, absentmindedly crushing the leaf in his hands. "Ya think I'd feel obligated to sleep with ya, just because we're out in the woods?"

"I mean," John flushed, looking up at Hickory, anxiety clear as day on his face, "…maybe?"

"I would sooner stab any troll that tried somethin' that I didn't want, then go willingly off to their tent," Hickory practically growled, before taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, listening as John shifted and squirmed on the stick next to him. "I ain't mad," he said after a beat, letting out another breath.

"You sound like it."

"Only 'cause you implied I was easy."

"Sorry."

Hickory opened his eyes, taking one last deep breath in, before turning his gaze to John once again, arching an eyebrow at finding the teal troll practically curled in on himself in his seat. "This been buggin' ya for a while?"

"I couldn't sleep," John admitted, and upon closer inspection Hickory could see the bags under John's eyes.

Hickory sighed quietly, letting his irritation slowly seep out of him. He reached out, his heart twisting as John flinched slightly at the movement. "I ain't gonna hurt you," he reassured, gently taking one of John's hands in his own, "I'd never hurt ya. John…I was so happy, last night, when ya said ya wanted to kiss me. I've been wantin' to do that for quite a while. Just didn't quite know how to go about sayin' anythin'. I like you, John Dory. A whole lot."

John's posture loosened as Hickory spoke, his hunched position straightening as he unconsciously leaned in towards the country troll. "Really?" he breathed, and Hickory could almost describe his expression as being starstruck.

"I don't have a tendency to say things I don't mean."

Hickory let a crooked little smile settle on his face as John slowly shifted closer to him, turning slightly so he could wrap both of his hands around Hickory's. "I'm so sorry. For thinking I'd taken advantage of you. For implying you would do anything you didn't feel comfortable with. I just thought that, if you didn't want it, or felt bad for me or something-"

Hickory cut him off with a snort of a laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Why on this green earth do you think I would feel bad for ya?"

John blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Uh…'cause I'm a washed up ex-boyband member with a laundry list of family trauma issues and no friends?"

"Who's also mighty handsome, talented, a skilled survivalist, and who seems to be completely blind to the admirers that watch 'im every time he goes to the market?"

"…You think I'm handsome?"

"Not the take away ya should be focusing on here, Johnny," Hickory snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry. Go on."

Hickory chuckled, cupping John's cheek in his free hand. "You think pretty little of yerself, an' that's a real shame. I wish ya could see yerself the way I do."

"And how's that?"

"Like a shootin' star in the night sky. So beautiful an' bright, but burnin' out so fast most folks can't appreciate ya for yer true magnificence," Hickory hummed, enjoying the way John's cheeks darkened, just before he gently tugged the teal troll into a kiss.

They parted with a quiet gasp between the two of them, John looking a bit dazed.

"So…you're my boyfriend now, right?" John asked bluntly after a beat, earning a surprised burst of laughter from Hickory.

"You bet yer bottom dollar, playboy."

[kazimirovich]

all i can say forever

i'm jewish. as a child i moved from a rural town where my family saw acts of rage and hate, emigrated from a country with a horrifying history with jews. you know the one, though there are many. i'm 31 now and i have seen and experienced antisemitism my whole life, in the many places i've lived, to varying degrees. not that i should need to qualify this before everything i have to say - but i know what that looks and feels like. in my life there have been times at which i have been in danger. i choose to stay out of danger in all the ways i was taught. (part of that is not moving into someone else's house uninvited (more in a sec))

(well-meaning?) people want me to have a relationship with israel. they are very invested in assuming i have some connection to this shifting space, this project. they associate my german jewishness with a place i have never been and never felt. home, for me, is the uncle i haven't seen in too long, the ailing brother of my mother, the same red nose. it's fresh sheets hung over dry summer grass, it's bavarian farmland, it's thick liptauer on pumpernickel bread warmed over the wood stove. it's my grandmother's dining room and rough fenceposts, borders we disrespected as kids. home is also here and there and where my family is, where my friends are, where i've built myself.

in a geopolitical sense, it is clear that the antisemitic position is to sequester jews into a partitioned state conceived of by non-jews after the sunset of our most recent attempted decimation. antisemitic, to tell jews "move here, be at home in this space of constant war. impose war on others. fight for a tenuous link to an ancestry you've never seen or studied." in a religious sense, sort of a key feature of judaism since the second exile is that - we're in exile. this is an orthodox argument, but i have to admit that rabbinical discourse is pretty convincing. the secular establishment of the israeli state in an attempt to accelerate any so-called redemption has left us at a point where i really don't know what hope we have for that to occur. if you believe in god, how can you believe they are looking down at us, impressed

because beyond theoretical or spiritual reasons, the bloodlust, the vengefulness, the racism, the violation of law (i know that laws are agreed upon, are broken all the time by those who grant themselves impunity), the evil of this continuance, the evil which grinds babies and text and memory, gnashes it all in its droning machinery, its cold horror and inhumane (unhuman) practice, seemingly perfected... it is obvious to anyone with a single thought that it is an ethnic cleansing. the forcible "movement" (murder) of people of one group from land people of another group want. is ethnic cleansing. we are watching it in real time, and the world stands by and in many cases, it endorses, it beats and imprisons those who are brave enough to stand up to it, it rewards cowardly men in war rooms who having read fukuyama and arendt and maybe even voegelin conveniently forget themselves, because they can afford to, and wave their hands and make calls and decimate entire families cities sovereignties. and liberalism - that fickle ideology whose sole search is for the justification of atrocity - sends its thoughts and prayers, and emphasizes how just horrible both sides are, and conveniently forgets the histories that have led each "side" to this. convenient.

and i can't do anything about it. i can perfectly articulate every well-thought-out argument, i can cry the most frustrated tears from the well of my chest and i can scream that this isn't right, because it isn't, but nobody fucking cares. those who matter have decided for those who don't.

if you align yourself with israel, or feel any sympathy toward the supposed plight of active settlers (not a neutral spot to be in, by the way - another rational argument), i hope you know how thoroughly you've been manipulated. how successful the project of those with the power to decide we don't matter has been. you and i don't matter. so-called free thinkers meme. you fucking idiot. you genocidal maniac.

not putting this under a cut. fuck you. read it all and remember my jewish name and keep it far out of your mouth the next time you tell someone why the people you've told me are my neighbors deserve a flattening.

[intheholler]

what do you think of all of the people being scared of appalachia? i don't know if this is recent or not, but currently i've been seeing a ton of shit online like "never go to the appalachian mountains, it's so dangerous", and i just don't understand it. my family's lived in appalachia for forever, and none of us have experienced anything paranormal or endangering to us. you're one of my favorite blogs on here and i'd just like to hear your thoughts on it

first off, it means a lot that i'm one of your favorite blogs and im really happy i can contribute something to your experience here :') thanks so much for being here <333

but ok so.

my thoughts on it are many. it's been bothering me a long time and i've been meaning to get it off my chest. this will be long and probably ranty, so it won't hurt my feelings if anyone skims lol

lemme preface this little diatribe by saying the obvious: folklore is an integral part of any culture. the mythos of a place/people is tied directly to their histories and unique experiences and struggles and they are enriching. this is true of appalachia too.

oral folk traditions especially are incredibly historically appalachian.

i mentioned in a post i made yesterday about murder ballads, how the purpose of these was to warn kids away from doing dumb shit and getting lost in the hollers--falling down cliffs n mineshafts and shit at night. gettin got by wildlife.

it spooked us safe. they served a purpose, and once you got old enough to realize they're as real as the tooth fairy, they just become enjoyable and nostalgic. because they're you're culture.

probably every mountain kid has stories about haints n boogers that were told to them by their grandparents, and they grow up to tell them to their own kids, and so on. some of it stuck with me because i grew up with the folklore.

by that i mean, i'm a whole 31 year old woman and i still avoid looking out a dark window at night cause it gives me the shivers. i still get spooked when i hear a big cat yowling in the woods. but the difference is i know there's not really haints out there crying--it's just a product of my childhood. ghost stories are fun.

the problem comes in when someone outside the culture gets their hands on appalachian oral folk traditions. then, it becomes a familiar problem: outsiders cherry picking appalachia and harming us with the mess they make rifling through it all.

it's all about the surface level and the visuals. they all love a good aesthetic blog, run by some local from out west or some shit who's never stepped foot here.

but as soon as the spooky photo filters come off and the real life marginalized person is left standing there just out of frame, we go back to being disgusting examples of what not to be. decrepit churches n buildings are aesthetic and quirky until they stop being on a pinterest board, and then they just become damning images of an impoverished region who deserves to be laughed at.

now, not to holler 'splain you--this is more for anyone not from here who might read this: it's been a systemic issue for decades; there were literal government campaigns to demonize us to the rest of the nation so they could garner support to cut into our mountains and exploit our labor and resources.

well, they were fuckin successful, and we have been falsely made out to be this homogenous nightmare of a place--"welfare exploiting" maga country who deserves everything we get, and nothing we don't.

by going so far as to take appalachian folklore that we tell each other and picking out the "aesthetic" stuff--the haints and general paranormal--they are pruning what they like from our culture--the safe things, like ghost stories--for their own aesthetic use.

but not only that, they are using it to demonize us… yet again.

'appalachia is scary. it's full of things that will kill you. don't look out the window at night cause a booger will get you.' only they don't call them boogers cause they ain't even from here. ask them what a haint is and they'll ask if u mispelled 'haunt.'

it gets even worse when you consider that so much of it has roots in native american culture, and how that continues to be exploited and misrepresented.

i'm not even innocent of that. a while back i had to check myself because i made a comment on here about ~spooky appalachia~ ignorant to the fact that what i was commenting on was actually a deeply important cultural and spiritual element to local indigenous tribes. my comments were harmful by my failure to educate myself and know better, thereby saying things carelessly.

my point being--i'm from the area. i should have known better.

when outsiders start saying the kind of shit they say about what they think they hear in the woods without even knowing where such an idea comes from, they're disrespecting a displaced, abused and exploited people, harming real cultures just for clicks without even knowing. that's on top of the damage they're doing to greater appalachia.

it's fuckin gross.

i think my favorite one i ever seen was this middle aged white lady going through her pristine mcmansion somewhere in suburbia, pulling the million curtains and locking the million doors, going "nighttime routine in appalachia!! 🤪🤪"

i could be wrong about this particular person--i didn't check their other tiktoks because im sick of them accounts and tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt--but it immediately came off as a transplant because:

1) mcmansion, 2) i dont know nobody here that locks their shit down like that (not locking up could even be argued as a part of my local culture, a reflection of our deep sense of community and trust in our neighbors).

and then the comments was all like "i don't know how you guys live there" and it actually broke my heart and pissed me off because even if--especially if--you're one of us, why the fuck are you harming us for likes? why are you turning people against us in a brand new way?

and to the transplants that do this--why?

you're not even from here, you moved here to this place you hate and made it worse just so your front porch would have a nice view, and are now benefiting socially from perpetuating bullshit about us?

you buy up all the land, land we often had no choice but to sell in the first place to survive instead of passing it on to our families, land we originally took from the indigenous peoples your content comes from.

you overdevelop it and turn it unrecognizable to make it more like the comfortable cities you come from. you gut a mountain town of its local businesses and cultures, you price people out of their homes...

...and then once you settle in all cozy like, you go tell everyone else how scary it is? how you can't trust the hills? like it's a cool paranormal bravery badge to wear? fuck off entirely.

so idk, in short my personal thoughts are: i personally enjoy a little myth as a treat, because the folklore is a part of the gothic, a part of our culture and a part of my childhood. i don't (intentionally) wield it as a weapon or use it as a pedestal to get the weird brand of attention that people like them are after.

and those who do this can get got by them haints for all i care.

[hunniebunnietarot]

"When I First Saw You"

First of all, I apologize for the delay on this reading:( I've been so unmotivated and busy, but I got it up FINALLY! If you can please tell me what you think of this reading or if you have any other suggestions. Enjoy!

Tarot Masterlist

~~~

How?

I’m seeing this as a situation where you are in need of assistance because of something(or someone) that is bothering you. This could involve an older woman that is bothering you and your person steps in to help before it gets too far. It won’t be anything too serious, just a misunderstanding between you and this older lady, where she is the aggressor. This might take place in a work environment where your manager will be antagonizing you and they step in simply because they can’t stand to see someone be mistreated. It is also possible that your future spouse won’t step in to help you in this conflict. This could be the cause because they see how well you can handle yourself, so they kind of hesitate but still keep an eye out so that nothing goes too far. Now, this conflict could be a long time coming as you have bottled up your emotions thus far through all of the mistreatment and unfairness. The saying “The straw that broke the camel’s back” comes to mind.

Also, for very few of you this could be a misunderstanding between you and your fs in the first meeting.

When?

This is just a confirmation of everything said before. You are feeling trapped in a situation with someone else and are being led to take action. You probably gave this person the benefit of the doubt so many times, but something just finally snapped. With that being said the months that are being highlighted here are November, March, and June.

How?

You might relocate due to a new job opportunity. I see you kind of getting back on your feet after some kind of loss. Specifically I feel like you’ll be moving somewhere that is known for its diversity. You will be wanting to nurture yourself after this hard time in your life, being held down by circumstances for so long. More specifically you could be going somewhere that is good for your spiritual/physical health, such as: a spiritual retreat, a temple, a spa, a resort etc. You could run into this person there. You will actually end up making friends with this person at first because you two may relate in some ways regarding your spiritual journey. You both could have a history of depression or anxiety, come from similar backgrounds, or be of the same sex.

When?

You will definitely be coming out of a bad period of (possible) depression. The good news though, is that you will absolutely be thriving when this person enters your life. Although you may be a bit unstable still, trying to find your footing, you’ll be well on your way. For extra confirmation: you may be the kind of person that has that extreme view of having to completely uproot your life to “start over”. Some of the people in this pile may be recovering addicts and learning to trust themselves again. Months December, October and August are highlighted here.

How?

I think a friend will set you and your person up on a blind date. They might think that you work too hard even though you’re already successful. Around the time this happens you may express to them wanting to be in a relationship, but never actually taking action to do so. So they take it into their hands and offer their help, whether you want it or not (I see them as kind of pushy and excitable). Your friend reminds me of Elle Woods from ‘Legally Blonde’. This may be a blind date or them just dragging you out of your comfort zone to have fun out and about. I also want to point out that your future spouse could be someone that you already know, meaning they would have already been aware of you(and vice versa) because of mutual friends. You may just know or recognize them in passing.

When?

Again, you will be experiencing a time of financial abundance. You will be guided to do something outside of your normal routine by a friend. You could be a workaholic and have one of those routines where you only go to work and then straight back home(same lol), so they suggest something different. The Summer months are highlighted in your spread: August, June and July.

How?

You will meet your future spouse through a family member, I think it will be someone from your father’s side of the family. It could be an emotional event, such as a wedding of one of your family members, and your person happens to be one of their guests. This means that they could be a friend of your family or the person they will get married to. Whatever this event is could take place in a different city, state, or even country then where you are on a daily basis(destination wedding). You could not get along with some of your family and have worries about your person being told bad things about you(really random but it's here). 

When?

The months present are April, November, and September. This time of your life will be quite restless feeling. You could be stuck in a “I miss those days” kind of mentality because not much will be working out for you when this person comes into your life. You are not satisfied with your circumstances.

~~~

More coming soon, I promise lol

[theteasetwrites]

Go Get Him | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 10 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, face riding, oral (female receiving), submissive!Daryl, virgin!Daryl, grinding, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex, swearing ❧ Word Count: 12.5k (oh they keep getting longer, don't they?)

❧ Requested by anonymous (this request)

❧ Summary: You've known Daryl for a long time, and you've flirted with him for a long time, too. Today's the day you finally take things to the next level and show him just how much you want him.

❧ A/N: Sub!Daryl, anyone?! God, I love shy, nervous, sweet baby Daryl. This version of Daryl is a little different from anything I've written so far, since I usually write Daryl as being a little more dominant/experienced than he is here, but I really like writing submissive/virgin Daryl, too!

“God, I want to do sinful things to that man.”

Rosita scoffed at your sudden declaration, turning her head to follow your gaze, which was glued onto the man in question as shaggy brown hair hung over his face, his greasy hands tinkering with the mechanics of his motorcycle. You hadn’t the first idea about motorcycles, but for him? You’d read every manual you could get your hands on just to show him how much you wanted him. Everyone already knew, though, except him. 

“Do you think he likes to be on top or on the bottom?” you asked, your eyes not leaving his body as you undressed him with your mind. You took a casual sip of the homemade horchata Rosita had served you. “I’d love to hear his moans.”

“You’re such a whore,” laughed Rosita. “And you tease him, you know.”

“I know,” you replied with a devious smirk. “He likes it, he’s just too shy to say anything. I told you, I caught him staring at my tits.”

“That’s because you were bending over, and you purposely had on a low-cut dress, dumbass.”

You gently kicked her shin under the dining room table. “That’s not the point. He looked.”

She shook her head. “How long have you been flirting with him, anyway?”

You shrugged, smiling to yourself as you swirled the cinnamon stick in languid circles around the glass of that sweet rice drink. “Oh, six, seven years maybe? After things settled down with the Saviors.”

For most of that time, Daryl had been living on his own, out in the woods searching for Rick’s remains. Still, when he came to town every once in a while, it was your opportunity to engage him in conversation, to see how much you could pry open that stubborn shell and get him to smile just a little at your cheesy quips. 

You learned a lot about him just from that, from the days spent hovering over his shoulder as you watched him gut a squirrel or ready his crossbow. 

Maybe you had never really gotten anywhere with your occasionally rather obvious flirting, but you had a friend in Daryl. He’d dropped his guard as much as he could, and after a while of purposely brushing up against him, or “accidentally” touching his hand, he seemed to not stiffen at your touch as much as he once had, and the more you learned about him, the more you liked him, and the more attractive, nearly irresistible, he became to you.

When he finally returned to the fold a year ago, around the time the Whisperers began to cause problems, you didn’t hesitate to make him feel comfortable, to use your bubbly, extroverted personality to ease his mind when his introverted, cerebral psyche became too much for him to handle. 

So it was more than just flirting or lustful teasing—you really did care for him, and something told you that he cared for you, too, but his shyness kept him from acting on his feelings. 

Maybe Rosita was right. Maybe now was the time to really let Daryl know exactly how you felt. No teasing, no flirting, just the truth. 

Well, you probably couldn’t really help yourself. You had to flirt with him, too. 

“You’re just teasing yourself at this point, mami. You want him so go get him.”

It was tempting, more now than ever.

He was right there, not about to go on another mission, not about to come up with a stuttering excuse for him to do something “important” instead of spending the night with you, as you’d occasionally joke about to his face. 

Still, he never outright rejected you. If he had, you’d have stopped in your tracks, not wanting to harass him, but he toyed with you in his own way, too. It was more subtle than your liking, and perhaps even accidental at times, but it was sweet, his own brand of flirting that was clumsy and unrefined, as if he were holding something back and stepping on eggshells. You surmised he was terrified of rejection himself, even though it was pretty clear that you wanted him. 

“For real this time?” you asked. “I mean, should I go all out?”

“Depends,” said Rosita, leaning back in her squeaky wooden chair and folding her hands behind her head. “What do you mean by ‘all out’?”

“Hm…” You leaned forward, folding your arm on the table to lean your chin upon your hand as you watched Daryl wipe his hands of that filthy grease. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead to remove the accumulated sweat, but he only smeared it, creating an adorable streak of black. “Well, I have to get him alone. I don’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone… But I want to touch him. Just a little more than usual… Maybe I’ll wear that low-cut dress again.”

“No panties,” suggested Rosita. “That’ll get him riled up, I bet.”

“Oh, you’re a genius! But how am I gonna get him alone? He’s always busy.”

“He’s not busy right now,” replied Rosita with a smirk. “He’s just working on that stupid bike like he always is. Why don’t you go get that dress on and let your body do the talking?”

Not ten minutes later, you came sauntering across the street (sans panties), adorned in that contradiction of a dress.

It was at once seductive and innocent, with the motif of pale yellow buttercups blooming across a cream fabric, high empire waist and low-cut v neck wrapped bodice perfectly accentuating your chest, which Daryl seemed to like. The material was soft to the touch, a crinkled polyester with a bias cut that hugged your curves and reached your knees. 

You didn’t know what to do with your hair, besides pinning it in a loose bun that lifted it from your hot neck while wispy strands framed your face and blew gently with the late spring breeze. 

Strategically, you wore one of the pairs of earrings he’d brought back for you on one of his visits to Alexandria a few years ago. He had a habit of doing that, collecting trinkets and jewelry that made him think of you. The ones you had on now were your favorite—dangling blush pink jewels in a cluster that trickled down to a singular diamond in the shape of a heart. You hoped he’d notice that you were wearing them, but something told you he would. He always noticed things like that, even if he didn’t tell you. You could almost read him like a book at this point.

“Hi there, handyman.”

His hooded blue eyes peered over the seat of his bike to acknowledge you. Though he’d felt your presence getting closer, and even caught a sweet whiff of that sultry perfume you always wore, he’d tried not to let himself get distracted again, even if he was rather fond of being distracted by you.

“Hey,” he replied, that one syllable word already having an effect on you. His voice was at once smooth and silken as rich maple syrup, and yet with a flavor more like salted caramel. In any case, he sounded so sweet, sweet enough to rot your teeth. “Need somethin’?”

“You,” you said bluntly. As always, he shared with you that look, an initial look of serious consideration, peppered with sexual tension, and seasoned with a just pinch of disbelief. Then, as always, he scoffed.

“Pfft.” He shook his head, returning his focused gaze to his work, though you noticed he looked a little less focused than before. “Yeah, sure. What’s up, buttercup?”

He nudged his head to your body, correctly identifying the full yellow flowers painted on the fabric of your dress. He was the kind of man to know flowers and plants, to recognize them easily. Years of surviving in the wilderness would do that to you, but he was also observant, obsessed with details, especially yours. 

“You like it?” you asked, sliding your hands down your own curves. 

Raising his eyes to look at you once again, he bit his lip in thought, trying to look at you without imagining what you looked like underneath the dress in question.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Seen it before. Yellow suits ya.”

“Thanks… So, what are you working on?”

You planted yourself next to him, folding your arms as you watched him spin some kind of wrench around to tighten one of the bolts. 

He dusted his knees as he stood to his feet, then removed his black rag from its place on the seat to wipe his hands once again.

“Jus’ maintenance, makin’ sure everything’s dialed in, tuned up, ready to go. Ain’t got much else to do.”

“Well,” you sighed, “now I’m here. That’s something else to do.” You side-stepped closer, brushing your shoulder against his. He didn’t seem to flinch at that, so your other hand crossed over to lightly trace up and down his arm, clothed in a long sleeve black button-up shirt. 

He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say for a moment as your hand playfully tickled his sleeve. He’d only wished he’d been wearing a sleeveless shirt that day, just to feel your fingers on his bare flesh. 

His feelings for you consumed him on a day-to-day basis, and though he knew you flirted with him, as you were doing now, he could never tell if you were serious, or if this was how you were with every man. Granted, most of your other friends were women, so he couldn’t really know for sure. All he knew was that many nights he’d woken up from dreams about you in a cold sweat, soaked in his own arousal, and with a tent pitched under his sheets. 

He knew he loved you, he always did. It took him a while to admit it to himself, how much he cared for you, but old habits die hard, and he had a habit of suppressing his emotions, especially the kind that could get him hurt. Besides, why would you want to be with a guy like him, anyway? When he wasn’t out killing walkers or dealing with Whisperers, he was in his basement whittling arrows, or talking a little too much to his dog. He was shy, quiet, standoffish, even. Surely someone so gregarious and sociable as you would want nothing to do with him, right? Well, that’s where you confused him, in the best way possible. 

Still, you brought something out in him, and whenever he was with you, he felt like he could let his guard down just enough to keep up with your quips, your teasing flirts, your contagious giggles. Being around you made him feel like a teenager again. Or, at least, how most people were as teenagers.

Daryl never had feelings like this before, not once. Sexual feelings hadn’t been apart of his life one bit until he realized he loved you. When people spoke of their relationships, of their sex lives, his brain went blank. They might as well have been speaking another language, and he might as well have been deaf.

All he knew of sex was how you made him feel, and when you touched him like you did, like you’d done so many times before, he found himself somewhere between terrified and euphoric. 

“Pfft,” he scoffed with a nervous smirk, elbowing you playfully. “Ain’t ya got anythin’ better to do than talkin’ to an old man?”

You rolled your eyes, then looked around as you turned dramatically. “Gee, I don’t see any old men around here. All I see is a very handsome, sweet, strong—” You cut yourself off, noticing the blush blossoming on his cheeks. “Sorry,” you giggled. “So, you’re not busy right now, are you?”

Your voice was sultry and deep, deeper and more rich than usual. Even when you flirted with him more intensely, he’d never heard such a sweet sound.

His feet shuffled as he scratched his neck, his shoulder-length hair draped over his wrist. You’d always wanted desperately to get your own hands tangled up in that hair of his.

“Uh, guess not,” he said. “Why?”

Shit, you thought. I haven’t thought this far.

“Well, um…” You rocked your hips back and forth as you thought, unintentionally drawing his eyes to your midsection, a place on your body he’d thought about more than he’d care to admit.

An idea occurred to you then—Daryl was good with his hands, and surely he’d be able to help out around your house. Maybe he was good at plumbing. You could make up an excuse for him to come to your house, to “fix” something…

“My bathtub,” you said abruptly. “I—I mean, it’s all… clogged up. The water—it pools around my feet when I’m showering. I was wondering if you knew anything about plumbing? Maybe you could… snake my drain?”

Perfect, a nice sexual innuendo.

His eyes seemed to widen for a moment as he processed your words, and the bite in your lip and the sway of your hips didn’t go unnoticed. Still, however, he couldn’t comprehend this being anything other than a friendly interaction. At least, he didn’t want to assume you meant anything else.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and scratched his head, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. If he looked into those intense, beautiful eyes of yours now, he was sure he’d get down on his knees and worship at your feet. “Well, what’s in it for me?”

You cracked a smile and a raised eyebrow at that. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if his light flirting was intentional, or just a byproduct of his cluelessness. Either way, it was adorable. 

“Hm, maybe a kiss on the cheek?” you teased. “Or anywhere else you want a kiss…” 

He scoffed and shook his head, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over his foot until he caught himself, eliciting an amused smirk from your lips. There was nothing more adorable than how he reacted to your flirting, and how nervous he could get. 

“What about some peach pie?” he rasped, his voice seeming to break a little.

Oh, your famous peach pie. The only other thing he dreamed about besides you was your pie, made with fresh, plump peaches plucked from the tree outside your house. You’d first made it for him as a thank you for the first necklace he brought back for you, and from that point on, he always asked you for more. 

“Peach pie, huh? Well, you know what, I just happen to already have a slice of peach pie with your name on it.”

That was a lie. So was the drain. You hated lying to him, but you figured it was for a good cause, and you hoped he’d appreciate what you had in mind once you got him alone in your house. Peach pie or not, at least you managed to employ the use of yet another sexual euphemism to hint at your intentions. 

“Come on,” you said, tugging lightly on his hand. He didn’t jerk it away, he never did. His hand interlaced with yours felt too much like two matching puzzle pieces finally fitting together for him to pull away. He felt safe cradled in your touch, secure. As nervous as he could be around you, it was simply because he was terrified of saying the wrong thing, of embarrassing himself in front of you, even if he knew you could never be embarrassed of him. 

“You’ve been spending too much time with that bike,” you said. “I’m starting to get jealous.”

He scoffed, feeling your hand tighten around his the closer you got to your house. He blushed as a few passersby eyed the two of you, their eyebrows raising in curiosity at the display. Surely they’d gossip about it behind his back, saying he was screwing you. No matter how much he sort of liked the idea of everyone thinking you were his, he tugged his hand from your grasp, wiping the sweat that had accumulated from his anxiety onto his jeans.

“That ole bike ain’t got nothin’ on you, buttercup,” he said, nearly tripping up the steps to your townhouse as you began fiddling with your keys to unlock the front door. “So, you got the stuff to snake the drain?”

You swallowed hard as you turned the key in the lock. “Mhm,” you lied, but you were so close to getting him inside where you could make your first serious attempt to seduce him. If you needed to lie once more to get him inside, you would. Besides, they were only little white lies. “Got everything you need in the house. I’m just not very good with that kind of stuff… Maybe I need a man around the house, one that’s good with his hands.”

Your voice had a suggestive lilt to it, and Daryl couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be to be that man, to use those deft hands of his to pleasure you and touch you wherever you wanted him to. Maybe you imagined some man other than him, though, and the thought of any other man inside your house, doing his job, infuriated him slightly. 

“Pfft,” he scoffed, stepping over the threshold as you held the door for him. “Don’t need a man to fix shit. I can show you how.”

“But then who’s gonna make you peach pie while you snake my drain, huh?” 

You watched him remove his muddy boots, as was policy in your house so as not to track dirt through the place, but all you could think of was how you were one step closer to getting the man’s clothes off.

“Whatever you say… So where do you keep the drain snake?”

Shit. 

Closing the door, you turned to face him, your eyes fluttering sweetly as you prepared to tell him that it was all just a ploy to get him in your house. Oh, but his face was so sweet in all its innocence, his eyes genuine as they glimmered in desire to help you. He was such a good man, always was. That made him immensely more attractive to you. He was gorgeous, too, with that beautiful bone structure and those strong, broad shoulders of his, but none of it meant anything to you if he wasn’t also a good person, and Daryl was perhaps the best person you’d ever met. 

Not once had he taken advantage of you and your kindness towards him, even if perhaps you wished he’d take advantage of it. You were long past the point of wondering whether or not you loved him. You knew you loved him, that you’d let him do just about anything he wanted to do to you. Now you had him alone, you could make that abundantly clear to him.

“Why don’t we sit down for a bit?” you asked. “You want some water? I’ll get you a glass of water. Sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

He already knew he couldn’t be alone in private with you for long without feeling a near irresistible urge, an urge he was scared to realize. Today was worse than usual—you were in that dress again. You were wearing those earrings he’d gotten for you, and it was no accident that their diamonds were in the shape of a heart. It was his subtle way of showing his love for you, but the words just never materialized—vapor dissipating into thin air. 

Most of all, you were sweet, delicate with each flourish of your hand as you lovingly poured him a glass of water in the kitchen across from the living room. Even such a simple gesture from you seemed so genuine and kind. No, no, he thought. She’s like this with everyone. She must be. 

“Here you go,” you said with a smile, leaning down to hand him his glass. He eyed the thin lemon wedge perched on the side of the glass, and the slices of fresh cucumber floating in the clear liquid. 

“Fancy water,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Mm, yes I did, Daryl.” You sat closer to him than usual, and you always sat close to him, much closer to him than anyone else sat. “You deserve nice things.”

The feeling of your hand massaging his shoulder did not escape him. In fact, he nearly choked on his water when you squeezed his muscular frame, trying to knead out the knots by his neck. 

Still, he wasn’t uncomfortable, just nervous, and slightly confused by your gesture. It was more than you’d ever done before, but it felt good. Oh, did it feel good. Somehow, it gave him just a little spark of confidence, just enough to turn his thoughts into words: “Are you a nice thing?” he asked, surprising himself with the flirtatious lilt of his voice.

Your soft giggle drove him wild, its cadence somewhere between girlish innocence and erotic amusement. 

“Well, that depends on who you ask… Do you think I’m a nice thing?”

His shyness washed over him again, causing him to nod shakily as he cleared his throat, his eyes drifting down to look at the translucent seeds of the cucumbers floating in his water.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. 

“Well, then I guess you deserve me…”

His heart fluttered along with every bat of your eyelashes, and with every whiff of that intoxicating perfume of yours, he knew he was done for, in one way or another. He wasn’t going to get out of this alive.

You saw him shift his shoulders as he looked back up at you, his eyes darting around your face in panicked circles. You offered him a small smile, laced with equal parts adoration and flirtation. In a flash, he shifted his eyes downward again, causing you to lean forward and tilt your head at the sudden return of his shyness. Still, you could tell that the man who could idly flirt back with you was in there, he was just nervous, maybe a little scared. 

“Daryl,” you giggled under your breath. “All this time I’ve been flirting with you, you know that, right?”

He scoffed, the dismissive sound of which worried you for a moment. Maybe he never really had been subtly returning your flirtations, maybe he was just entertaining you. If so, you were sure that you, too, would soon be overcome with shyness and embarrassment.

It didn’t matter, though, because if you didn’t do something to make it extremely clear what you wanted, you were sure you’d be running around in circles with this man for the rest of your lives. You had to make a move, a bold one. Daryl seemed to respond better to actions than words, as you were almost sure if you straight up said, “I love you,” he still wouldn’t know what to say.

Go get him, you heard Rosita’s voice echo inside your head. 

You’d kissed his cheeks before, and every time you had, he apparently must’ve seen that as a friendly gesture, so you were determined not to do that again. 

With your hand delicately, yet firmly, grasping his chin, you pulled him closer, eyeing him steadily to silently keep his attention on you. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” you whispered, and slowly closed the gap, pressing your lips lightly against his. 

His body and brain went numb, practically dead to the world. He couldn’t even comprehend what was happening, even if it was technically something he’d imagined many times before. Your lips barely touched his, but they were so soft, so warm and pillowy. Better than any pillow he’d ever had in his life. He couldn’t escape the feeling of wanting more, of wanting to wrap his arms around you and kiss you the way you deserved, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know the first thing about kissing, or pleasing a woman, as far as he was concerned. He knew nothing, except from silly childhood “girlfriends” he pecked lips with, and even that was reluctant. For a long time he wondered if he could love anyone, have feelings, sexual or otherwise, for anyone. You changed everything. He touched himself for the first time in several years the day he met you. He didn’t know it then, but you had awakened that in him. 

You didn’t move for a while, trying to gauge his feelings, but it was hard to tell, as he sat frozen, eyes wide and lips trembling against yours. “Daryl,” you sighed, pulling away to make sure he wanted this. “I need you to communicate with me… Do you want to kiss me?”

Hell of a lot more than that, he thought. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled softly. “Jus’… Ain’t a very good kisser, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, encouraging him to smile just a little too, though his was much more crooked, almost boyish in his innocence. 

He shivered a little when your arms wrapped around his neck, your glass of water having been surrendered to the coffee table at some point. He watched you fold your legs under your body, and a glimmer in your eye hinted at mischief as you remembered you weren’t wearing any panties. You could feel the back of your shins grazing your bare lower lips as they peeked out between your thighs, unbeknownst to the painfully bashful man before you. It invoked sinful thoughts within you, as you wondered just what it would feel like for his large, strong hand to slip under your dress and feel your most intimate area.

“Well, that wasn’t a real kiss,” you said. “Can I give you a real one?”

He swallowed hard, eyes trailing down to your lips as you licked them, leaving behind a glossy sheen, like dew on the pink petals of a peony. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that he wanted you, even if he couldn’t quite believe you wanted him. It still seemed so surreal, like some kind of fever dream made too vivid from the cold sweat drenching his aching body in his sleep. Every cell was on fire, every square inch of skin begged to be touched by you. His lips seemed to sting with need as he wanted nothing more than to feel your mouth on his.

“Yeah,” was all he could muster, but it was enough to indicate that he wanted more, even if he was too shy to say something more eloquent. He never really had a way with words, but at least you did. 

Your lips parted before meeting his, eager to show him exactly what kind of kiss you had in mind. Your arms coiled tighter around his neck to bring him closer, until the tips of your noses met. He always had such a cute nose—a short, slightly sloped button with a soft, fleshy tip. Just being this close to him, so close to meeting his lips with yours, was enough to elicit a giggle under your breath, one that alerted his attention to yours eyes instead of your lips.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asked, his own voice beginning to crack with a few chortles.

“Your nose is so cute,” you laughed. His eyes followed yours as they darted all over his face, admiring every sunspot and freckle and blemish and crease and wrinkle and—Well, you couldn’t stop yourself. He was so beautiful to you. Your thumb brushed against his jaw as his own hand moved cautiously to rest on your knee, though not without nearly immediately pulling it away. 

“You can touch me,” you whispered against his lips. “Please touch me.”

Your more confident hand took a hold of his to rest it once again on your knee. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn you felt him squeeze it, but maybe it was just a nervous reaction. 

The featherlight feeling of your lips slotting around his was deeper than before, with each crease melding perfectly into one another. It was slow for you, slower than tectonic plates, but you knew an earthquake was well on the way, as you couldn’t stand to be interlocked with him without shaking the fault lines. You needed to move, to go deeper, to plunge your tongue between his trembling lips. 

First, you got a tighter grip on him, your hands pulling him closer by his shoulders until he simply had to part his lips for you. Hot breath seeped in through the cracks, alerting your tongue to the breach. With almost a mind of its own, it darted teasingly into his mouth as your lips massaged his. 

Soon his hand gripped tight to only the crinkled polyester fabric of your dress his fist balled up and curling around the material as he concentrated hard on savoring the moment, not overthinking. Even in your embrace, he wondered if you knew what you were doing, if you were only kissing him out of some kind of pity. Maybe you would regret this. Surely, you’d regret this. Well, that’s what he thought, but you were too busy trying to rouse his tongue with yours.

His kiss was awkward, and a bit stiff, even if it was quite obvious he was trying to match the fluid, expert movements of your intoxicating mouth. His tongue couldn’t quite keep up with yours, and his lips only moved to gasp for air, or to try taking the lead when he seemed not to know exactly what to do.

At least your hand in his hair seemed to rile him up, his deep grunt of appreciation reverberating in your mouth as your fingers weaved through those messy brown locks like yarn. It sent a jolt through him, turning him briefly into a live wire as he moved his head in sloppy, wild motions, trying to get his lips to loosen and match your movements, though he really just hit your nose with his, back and forth, until you were giggling into his mouth. 

“Whoa, slow down there, stud,” you teased, your lips moving to his cheek to kiss him there, all while your hand tucked under his hair to stroke his neck. It only made the hairs on it rise even more, and something else began to rise in his pants, too. “As much as I love your nose, I think it’s getting in the way.”

He swallowed hard, suddenly turning red at the realization that he’d never kissed anyone before. Nearly fifty years old, he thought, and never kissed a woman before… Yeah, real stud. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I ain’t, uh… I ain’t done that in a long time.” A long time as in never. 

“Me neither,” you said. “I liked it… Did you like it?”

With your hand cupping his cheek again, and your lips pressing lightly against the other, he couldn’t dream of any alternative universe in which he didn’t like that kiss. That was everything he’d wanted for almost seven years. Of course, he wanted so much more, but that kiss? That was the start of it all, the foundation for a whirlwind he was hoping to get swept up in. 

“I loved it,” he said, a little more enthusiasticly than he’d hoped. He wanted desperately to play it cool, to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. Oh, it was everything to him. If he could stay this close to you for the rest of his life, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “You, uh… always wanted to do that?”

Oh, you sweet, silly man, you thought. Getting lost in those deep, grey-blue eyes of his was the best part of looking at him, so that’s what you did, shaking your head as you wondered if he knew just how much of an effect he had on you. Even from just once sloppy, haphazard kiss, you were getting those familiar tingles in your core, the ones that told you there was something particularly arousing in your midst.

“I thought that was obvious. I think about you all the time, Daryl… I want to kiss you all the time. I love being with you.”

Even he couldn’t comprehend how long he’d wanted to hear you say that. He couldn’t stay silent, even if he just wanted to bask in the afterglow of your sweet words, the ones that tickled his ears and caused a stupidly wide smile to split his face in half. You’d never seen him smile that wide before. In fact, you’d seen it only in your imagination, but real life blew that hazy daydream out of the water. 

“I, uh… I love bein’ with you, too. I wanna kiss you, too. All the time.”

A swell of short-lived pride filled his chest, but it deflated quickly as he remembered how inexperienced he was, how he surely couldn’t please you the way you wanted, and judging by the way your hand was guiding his back to your leg, you wanted him to please you.

The fabric of your dress crept up your bare thigh as you gently guided his hand, which had seemed to almost be numb as he let you take it where you wanted. 

His eyes couldn’t help but look down, watching as the skirt of your dress slowly lifted with each inch his hand moved with yours. You stopped before his hand lifted your dress to reveal your nakedness, but you did lean forward to whisper in his ear, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

How you had always wanted to say that to a man. In the movies, that always seemed to rile them up, so you were sure it would get him flustered, too. Well, you hoped, anyway. 

Your chest pressed tight up against his, and you could just feel his heart beating so fast and strong, and so much warmth emanating from him. It felt like getting too close to a fireplace, with that overwhelming heat igniting your cheeks. It was a good feeling, though, a comforting hearth that felt like home. Nothing could possibly be more attractive. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing, though,” your voice spoke huskily into his ear. “Whenever I’m around you, my underwear always ends up getting soaked. Better to just get rid of them, huh?”

He had no idea when you maneuvered yourself to sit atop his lap, legs straddling his waist and your bare core rubbing up against his jeans, but it became clear to him when your next kiss awoke him from whatever trance you’d put him in.

As your tongue desperately wriggled into his mouth again, begging for his sloppy kiss, he groaned against your mouth and grasped your waist with his hands, pulling your lips away with a small whimper from you.

Shit, you thought. He doesn’t want this… He doesn’t want me. I’m a dumbass.

“Daryl,” you said, slightly panicking as you feared you and your forwardness had blown any chance you had with him, “I… I’m sorry. I thought—”

“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s, uh…”

“Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” you sighed. “It’s not you, it’s me, right?”

Shit, he thought. I’m a dumbass. 

“Nah. I mean, uh… Yeah, it’s me.”

“You don’t want this?”

His hands tightened around your waist in a slight panic, as if terrified you’d get up and leave without hearing his explanation. Well, maybe it would have been better if you didn’t hear his explanation: he was a virgin. 

He’d just never met anyone he felt this way about, and sex had never been a priority. He wasn’t completely unaware, though. He knew what sex was, he���d seen porn before, mostly Merle’s overdue video tapes he rented from the local adult film shop back in Georgia, but that wasn’t real sex, of course. Even he knew that.

“N-no,” he said, and immediately shook his head to contradict himself. “Shit, I mean, yes. I want this. I want… I want you.” 

Your eyes turned soft as your lip quivered into a sweet, relieved smile. He let out his own low sigh of relief as your hand raised to cup his cheek. It never failed to enchant him how soft your hands were. “I want you, too… So what’s wrong?”

If there was one thing he admired about you, though he loved just about everything, it was your straightforward nature, your tendency to lay your cards out in front of him and wear your heart on your sleeve for the whole world to see. Now that he knew you wanted him, he wondered why you hadn’t told him earlier, but maybe you liked teasing him. Evil woman, he thought. She knows what she does to me. 

Never before had the word evil been used as a compliment, until now. He liked how evil you were, if being evil was teasing him for seven years to the point he’d probably turn into a puddle of goo if you so much as grazed his lower abdomen. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a result of your teasing, or just how inexperienced he was. 

“I just, uh… I haven’t done it in a real long time.”

Don’t lie, dumbass. You ain’t never done it. 

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed, “I haven’t done it in a long time either. I think it’ll feel even better, don’t you?”

As your confidence began to return to you, you found yourself tracing your fingertip along the collar of his shirt, and your eyes began to descend down his neck, the muscles in which seemed about ready to burst through the surface of his skin as he strained himself not to seem too desperate. He could practically feel the blood rushing to his head when your fingers parted the lowest point of his collar, making their way to his top button. Sparse hairs of light caramel color dotted his chest, which became more and more exposed to you as your fingers snapped together to undo that first button.

Your tongue wetted your lips as if on its own accord, your mouth becoming dry with each heavy breath you took. All the willpower in the world couldn’t stop you from impatiently attacking each plastic circle down the front of his shirt, ripping the fabric apart until his chest was bare, though his shirt still clung to his shoulders. 

A slight trance took him over as he became almost immobilized, eyes wide and mouth agape as he watched your hands fight each other to figure out how to undo his belt. 

“Mm, I’ve wanted this for so long,” you said, each word pouring out in an increasingly desperate whimper. “Kiss me.” You couldn’t even wait for him to shake himself out of that trance. Instead, you just crashed those trembling lips onto his, hands still fumbling to get that belt out from the loops. 

Low, sultry groans emitted from your mouth and reverberated inside his. Without much other thought in his paralyzed brain, he grasped at your waist and squeezed you until you let out a breathy whimper of his name.

“Fuck me,” you sighed against his cheek, and soon you found yourself buried in the tresses of his hair, your lips pursed and peppering his scalp with kisses as your free hand clumsily searched for the button to his jeans. For a moment you gave up, lowering your hand to find the bulge in his jeans, growing and becoming more prominent with each movement of your body, somehow shivering despite the heat coursing through you like a lava flow. “I’ve waited so long for you… handyman.”

That little moniker reminded him, sending him flinching a little in your grasp as he awoke from his brief immobilization. You only held onto him tighter, gripping his thigh with one hand and his shoulder with the other. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with your shower drain, is there?”

Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk. He’d finally caught on, it seemed. “No, but I still need your… expertise.”

Expertise, he thought, all the while trying to match your smirk, despite his inner state of panic. I got no damn expertise, woman. 

He nearly opened his mouth to say something, to finally admit his lack of experience to you, but the feeling of your hand gripping his, leading it swiftly underneath the skirt of your dress, rendered him speechless.

A pink rosy haze swelled around him, clouding his vision until all he could see was your face, your body, your eyes closed and your lips spread apart as his palm tickled you in the place where you hadn’t felt a foreign touch in so long. You’d always been waiting for Daryl, hoping he’d come to you first. You’d turned other men in Alexandria down before, waiting for the burly yet inordinately quiet archer to finally kneel down at your feet and admit to you his feelings that you knew deep down he shared for you. 

The touch of a man’s hand had at least been known to you, but for Daryl, he’d never felt this before. The sparse carpet of short, slightly curled hairs cushioned his thumb, while the other fingers clumsily spread apart your lips, slightly wetted by your arousal. When his mind caught up with his actions, he realized you were telling the truth—you weren’t wearing any panties. As he thought back to earlier, you standing so close to him, petting his arm and flashing those sultry bedroom eyes his way, he couldn’t help but imagine a droplet or two trickling down your thigh, uninhibited by the presence of underwear.

“I love your hands on me,” you sighed under your breath, barely audible for him to hear, as if you didn’t even need him to hear, you just needed those words to linger in the air for a moment, so it was known by even the tiniest speck of dust in that room that you loved this feeling. “Daryl… I need you.”

It wasn’t even just a want anymore, not a flight of fancy or anything that could ever evaporate from your mind. It was an intensity for a man you’d never felt before, and if you didn’t have him soon, you were sure you’d go mad. 

“I—I need ya, too,” he stuttered mindlessly, his fingers wiggling in sloppy movements as he blindly felt around below your dress, that strange feeling of touching something he’d never touched before. It was so new, so exciting. Every inch of his body grew tense and taught, pulled tighter than a tourniquet with each stroke of his fingers against your folds. Still, he had no idea what he was doing, and that uncertainty got the better of him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

You hummed a sweet, “Hm?” through your smiling lips. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? he thought to himself. Shit, this is really happening. If this was what it was like to be loved, he had a feeling it would become a guilty pleasure for him. That sound of your angelic voice calling him something so sacred was so surreal, and so very sweet. 

He felt your hand tighten around his, guiding him to keep his palm pressed against you. 

“I ain’t ever…” 

His voice trailed off as you leaned forward to press your lips against the center of his chest, where the most tempting crop of short, sparse chest hairs dotted his broad frame. Spreading your lips, you licked languid, sloppy circles over his skin, taking in the feeling of those hairs dancing with your tongue. 

Desperately keeping his hand under your dress, you manipulated his pliable fingers to enter you slowly, causing his breath to hitch in shock at the feeling.

“(Y/N),” he said. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when that warm, silky embrace was swallowing his fingertips in the most delectable way. “I—I ain’t never… Fuck.”

“Mm, tell me more,” you laughed against his chest. “I love your voice… Say my name again.”

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes tight as he tried so hard not to lose control of himself before he could tell you what he needed you to know, but the truth was he quite liked your name on his voice, too, and he had a proclivity for saying it, especially whenever he touched himself. 

“(Y/N),” he sighed, a gruff and raspy sigh, but a sigh nonetheless. “I’ve never done this before.”

The vibration of your playful laughter against his pec as you kissed him there seemed to be a bad sign. What if you were laughing at him, laughing at how he couldn’t possibly ever please you? Clearly you wanted him, and now he couldn’t be the man you needed to satisfy you. A virgin? Surely that wasn’t the kind of man you expected him to be, and surely it wasn’t the kind of man you deserved. Not only that, but Daryl was no young man. He was much past the age of a typical virgin, so how was he supposed to excuse it? It just was never something he’d been very interested in, never something he’d been offered, either. Now here he was, with a woman who was just about ready to let him make love to her, and now he might’ve just blown it. Still, you needed to know. He owed you that, he thought. He needed you to know what you were getting into.

Now you knew.

Well, he had hoped you knew.

“Mm, done what before?”

Fuck. Ain’t it obvious? 

“Never, uh…”

There’s no way, you thought. There’s no way this man is a virgin. 

“Daryl,” you said, more seriously now as you lifted your head to look in his eyes, trying to find the truth as disbelief clouded your vision. Surely Daryl had women clamoring for him before the world ended. Surely he’d been with women before. You knew for a fact that there were a handful of women in Alexandria ready to drop their pants in a heartbeat for him. Hell, you were one of them, though you’d somehow managed to scare most of them off with your less than subtle attempts to publicly portray a more intimate relationship with Daryl, even if you’d never done anything more than kiss his cheek. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never had sex before?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed, raising your hands to cup his cheek. “That’s okay.”

“Really?” he asked, dumbfounded by your continued affection as your hands massaged his chest, pushing his shirt further off his shoulders. “Ya ain’t… disappointed?”

“Well, I’m sitting on the lap of the man I’ve had feelings for for seven years. I think there’s very few things that could disappoint me right now.”

That crooked, boyish smile that spread on his face was enough to show just how much that meant to him, how much relief washed over him. Still, it faded when another thought occurred to him.

“But what if I can’t… What if I can’t satisfy ya?” 

You chuckled under your breath at the notion. “You’ve already satisfied me,” you said, causing his brows to knit together in confusion at the statement. 

Leaning forward, you whispered in his ear, but only after taking a delicate bite of his earlobe. “I touch myself every night thinking about you,” you said. “Thinking about all the things I want you to do to me…” Your hand reached down to lift his fingers to his own lips, and that innocent confusion in his eyes as he looked at you only ignited a deeper fire within you. “Taste me.”

Something about the demand in your voice as you instructed him seemed to rule him up. You never commanded him before, not with such controlling need. He liked it, surprisingly. He liked when you bossed him around, especially since he had no clue what he was doing.

His tongue slipped out between his lips, as his eyes still locked firmly onto yours. Those fingertips sank effortlessly into his mouth, as a simple lick was not enough. He took four of his fingers inside, sucking them gently to absorb every last drop of you. 

“Mm, good… Do you like that?” you asked, hands now massaging his scalp as soft, wavy caramel tresses draped over your attentive fingers. 

It was almost patronizing how you spoke, as if you were amused by his relative innocence. Still, he liked how you spoke to him, so controlling and yet so soft, in that angelic voice of yours. You knew what you wanted, that much was clear, and Daryl knew what he wanted, too, but he’d need you to guide him. It was evident that you were more than willing to do so.

“Like it a lot,” he answered, tentatively returning his hand to the pot of dripping honey between your legs, though he stopped himself at the hem of your dress. “Can… Can I have some more?”

In a flash, you tugged on his hair, pushing his head back until it rested forcefully on the edge of the couch. His grunt of surprise echoed for a moment, turning you on far more than you intended. 

“You want more?” you asked, brushing your nose up against his as your face and body pinned him down. Of course, he could probably throw you off him if he wanted to, but that was just the thing—he didn’t want to, not in a million years. He had you right where he wanted you, on top of him. “What do you want more of, sweetheart?”

He bit his lip and nodded his head, as if it was obvious. “Wanna taste you more.”

“On your fingers?”

“Yeah…” His tongue poked out between his lips as he desperately reached up to kiss you, and you let him, for a moment, until that sloppy tongue got too wily. He needed to be tamed, you thought. He needed control, otherwise he’d lose himself before he could even relish in the pleasure of his first time. 

With a gentle, but firm, pull of his hair, you removed his saliva-soaked lips from yours, though it was tempting to keep him there, even if he was a sloppy kisser. In fact, you quite liked it that way. 

“I got a better idea,” you whispered against his lips, which trembled in an attempt to close the space and devour you once again. “Lay down.”

As you raised yourself from his lap, you eyed the rather prominent bulge outlined in his jeans. Your thighs seemed to instinctually rub together, providing your sensitive area with a little relief until you could feel the friction you needed from him. 

He seemed hesitant at first, slightly embarrassed by your eyes scanning his body. As he scooted forward, ready to maneuver himself, you called out another order: “Take your shirt off.”

The quarter-length sleeved button-up was still clinging to his shoulders, and you needed to see that strong, broad chest in all its glory. Clearing his throat, he relented, bashfully stripping himself of his shirt. Noticing his slight shame, probably from the numerous scars he’d developed over the years on his chest, your eyes turned soft and understanding. You, too, had your fair share of scars. Everyone who’d lived long enough in this world had them.

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said softly, hoping he wouldn’t recoil at your reassurance. “Your body is beautiful.”

He swallowed hard as he came to terms with your eyes taking him in. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look in the mirror many times before, examining his own nakedness and wondering what you’d think. Most of the time, he told himself you’d hate his body, how worn it was. He was bulky, too, and you were so soft and delicate in his eyes. Surely you’d have wanted someone more lean and with a smaller frame, but no… You thought he was beautiful. You said so yourself. He couldn’t argue with you, not even if he wanted to.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, a nervous chuckle undercutting his gruff voice. It was so sweet to see him so shy as he called you beautiful for the first time. He’d hinted at it before, usually with the odd “you look nice,” or “I like your hair,” but never something so direct.

“Lay down,” you repeated, approaching slowly as you watched him lean back until he was lying face-up on the sofa, waiting for you. 

His curiosity piqued when you straddled his stomach, rubbing your bare slit up and down his abdomen. You felt him tense up, and you could tell by the frozen movement in his chest that he was holding his breath, nervously expecting something.

“Just relax,” you laughed, letting your hands rest on his pecs to feel his breathing begin to return. He seemed to like your touch on his chest. “Let me show you how to do it… You still want to taste me again?”

He nodded slowly, keeping his trembling hands steady on your waist. “Yeah…”

“Good,” you said. “I like your tongue.”

As you slid up further on his chest, until his chin met your pelvis, you looked down to speak once more. “I'll guide you.”

Lifting yourself up, you straddled his face, then lowered yourself as you felt his hands curl around your thighs, pulling you further down. “Whoa,” you laughed, steadying yourself on his face as his tongue blindly searched for your entrance. “Settle down, partner.”

You pulled back the hem of your dress to meet his eyes, and watched them flit open to meet yours. His tongue moved in quick, rapid, hungry attempts to taste you, causing you to hiss under your breath at the sloppy movements as he only darted past your clitoris. 

Pulling him gently by his hair, you guided his mouth to your clit, and held his head there with both hands, circling your thumbs over his temples. “That’s the spot,” you said. “Lick me there…” You tightened your grip on his head, swirling it around until his tongue was moving just the way you wanted it to, slow and steady. “Kiss me too.”

His lips suctioned around your clitoris as he kissed you there, all while his tongue moved at the pace you instructed. You kept your hands tangled in his hair, moving his head like a puppeteer holding her puppet on a string. 

“Kiss and lick…” you sighed, watching his eyes flutter closed and his nostrils expand with each heavy breath. “Open your eyes.” 

His hazy, blue-grey eyes opened just enough to see you peel that cream-colored dress from your body, revealing a pale pink bra that kept your breasts tightly contained. As the dress folded over your head, it took with it the scrunchie that had once held your loose updo in place, rendering the messy tendrils to spill over your shoulders and your face. With one hand, you tossed the discarded garment, and with the other, you moved the hair from your eyes to look back down at him, enraptured.

You reached back to unclasp your bra until the straps came loose, allowing you to slowly pull it from your chest until the lukewarm air of the living room hit your nipples just enough to get them stiff.

“Keep going,” you said, noticing his lips and his tongue had stopped moving, as he was in a state of awe. “You’re doing so good, Daryl.”

His tongue on your clit again, you began to rock back and forth, attempting to ride his tongue for the first time. He let out a grunt against you, but it wasn’t out of displeasure, that much was evident—his tongue moved more rapidly now, desperately lapping at your clit until he lost control of himself, moving his tongue back down to breach the entrance. You felt his tongue squirm inside you, tickling the shallow part of your hole.

“Oh…” you moaned under your breath, rocking with more vigor to match the clumsy wiggles of his tongue inside you. His head began to move side-to-side, causing the tip of his nose to tickle your clit with each pass. “Dar-Daryl, I… Oh, God.”

You felt his forearms wrap tight around your bare thighs, moving you at the pace of his tongue until you weren’t moving on your own accord anymore. His tongue and lips moved frantically, switching from your clit to your hole in rapid bursts as he couldn’t contain himself from sucking, licking, and kissing every part of that area. It was already so addictive, so delicious. He groaned deep against you, his way of begging you to ride him harder until you came on him, but he was going too fast for your liking, moving his mouth too hungrily. 

“S-slow down,” you moaned, squeezing the back of the couch with one hand and tugging on his hair with the other. “Take it easy… No hurry. Just go slow… I like your tongue down there.”

He nodded, bringing his tongue back to your clit, where he let his head move once again with the guidance of your hands. “Good boy,” you laughed under your breath. You heard him groan underneath you, another groan of pleasure. “You like that?”

He nodded again, letting out another groan as his lips suctioned with your folds to make the most sinful sound, intermingling his saliva with your wetness. 

“Just keep your head still,” you instructed. “And let me ride you.”

You clamped your hands to each side of his head, keeping him still as you slowly moved against the grain of his tongue’s flicks. Your back arched and your core grinding back and forth, you lowered your hands to meet Daryl’s as they rested on your thighs. 

His hands went numb at your touch, letting you bring them up to your breasts, where you encouraged his hands to massage the supple tissue. His fingers moved clumsily as he tried to focus on his tongue pleasuring you, and the feeling of your breasts under his palms, bouncing with each thrust you made.

You moved at a steady rhythm, and his tongue began to match it, though all he wanted was to reach down for a moment and relieve himself over his jeans, which tightened and constrained his erection, the likes of which he was sure he hadn’t felt before. He’d had plenty of erections, but this? This was different. This was torturous. 

Your hand encouraged his fingers to pinch your nipples, but one hand dropped down to palm at his clothed cock. You groaned, leaning back to replace his hand on your breast.

“You’ve got to make me come first,” you said with a smirk. “Then I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” 

He nodded, then moved to take one last deep breath of air before latching his mouth tight to your clit. 

“Ugh!” you cried out, throwing your head back with the shockwave that teared through your abdomen. You were close to the height of your pleasure, after so long of Daryl’s tongue dancing wildly in an attempt to find his rhythm. You couldn’t say you didn’t like his sloppiness, though. It was cute, in a way. At least he listened to your instructions, for the most part. “That’s it, right there…”

He drew tighter and tighter circles around your sensitive spot, each swirl of his tongue tugging on the tightness in your core and getting you closer and closer to the climax. As his hands gripped tight around your thighs, you leaned back, arms stretched backwards to prop yourself up, hands resting on his lower abdomen as your body rocked back and forth, getting as much friction as possible against his tongue.

“Oh, yes!” you called out into the air. “Keep going… Daryl… Yes… Oh…”

One last thrust against his tongue sent your body into a cascade of pleasure as your orgasm pulsed through you. You let out a delirious laugh between deep, sultry moans. Each pulse caused your body to drag your slit back and forth over his tongue instinctually, letting your throbbing clitoris absorb even more pleasure. 

With the last shockwaves of your orgasm, you maneuvered yourself until his tongue met your pulsing hole, dripping with the evidence of your orgasm. He didn’t hesitate to jut his tongue into your entrance, allowing himself to catch the droplets and to feel the last clenches of your moving walls. 

Your hands held his as they rested on your hips, then dragged them slowly up the curve of your body until they cupped your breasts, sensitive and taught from your arousal. Lifting yourself from the lower half of his face, you straddled his chest until you could see his lips, glistening with saliva and raw from overuse. His eyelids were heavy, with only a sliver of those overcast sky blue eyes hazily watching you languidly drag your core up and down his abdomen. 

His chest heaved as he panted, and as he caught his breath, you lowered yourself further until you felt the scratchy fabric of his jeans underneath you. Leaning forward, you took his panting lips in yours, massaging them gently to ease their exhaustion. You felt his arms coil around your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost one. It felt so natural being above him, letting him hold you close as his lips picked up the pace and demanded more movement from yours. 

Soon his tongue was moving wildly inside your mouth again, and his hands moved desperately up and down your back, one finally landing on your bottom, the other tangling in your hair, forcing his kiss to go deeper. 

The pressure from his grip on your ass made your core come into closer contact with his until you could feel the intense erection confined in his jeans. The pressure on your clit was too strong not to react, so your body instinctively moved, grinding your lower body back and forth over his clothed cock. He let out a deep hiss between your lips, and gripped harder onto your hair and ass as he threw his head back, finally separating himself from the lock of your lips. 

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out. That sensation of your body dragging itself up and down his cock was torturous, in the way the most delectable pleasure can become so intense it turns itself into the most abject pain. “I need ya,” he whimpered, a small cry of help you’d never heard from the stoic man before. You hated to admit it, but it was beautiful to see him crumble, just a little. He was always so strong, so fearless in the face of the terrors from the outside world, and yet, with you, he was nervous, timid, and now, begging you for release from his state of arousal-induced agony. “I need ya so bad.”

A slight smirk across your face, you slowly sat up, purposefully putting more weight on your core as it sunk deeper into his. 

“Shit!” he yelped, raising his head to look down, seeing what you were doing to him. 

You bounced gently on his clothed erection, hoping to tease him just a little more before you released the poor thing from its entrapment. 

“Ah, fuckin’ shit! You’re gonna make me come ‘fore you get my pants off, woman.”

“You better not,” you said. “Not before I get you inside me.”

He nodded rapidly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as your hand reached between your legs to stroke his clothed cock. “(Y/N),” he stuttered. “I can’t wait no more.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s get these pants off.”

You felt his legs squirm as you lifted yourself up just enough to unbutton his jeans, then pull down the zipper until you could see the dark grey of his boxers. Your hands moving too slow for him, he reached down to pull off his pants until he could shimmy them off the rest of the way.

“You’re so impatient,” you teased, tickling your fingertips up and down the length of his cock, stiff and hard as a rock beneath the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched and his hands clinged to your thighs, squeezing them tight as he tried to control himself. 

“Woman, you’re evil,” he hissed under his breath. 

You laughed and shook your head as you jerked the waistband of his underwear to reveal his cock—long, hard, and already beginning to stand up on its own. “Mm, wow… Big boy.”

He scoffed, halfheartedly glaring at you through hooded eyes. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t at least a little flattered, though. “Ya think so?”

“Know so. Nice and big and hard…”

Your hand wrapped tight around his shaft, pinning it to his abdomen as you sat yourself on the base of his cock. “Fuckin’… F-fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned. “Ain’t ya gonna put it inside ya for Christ’s sake?”

You pouted exaggeratingly, wiggling your hips to center his cock between your folds. “Not yet,” you said. 

Leaning yourself backwards on your hands as they held his thighs, you slowly slid your slit up his shaft towards his tip, causing him to jolt at the feeling, that terrible trembling that surged through his cock as you slid backwards once again.

“You like that?” you asked. 

“Shit, I… Fuckin’… God… Shit.”

“Mm, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“F-fuck yeah,” he clarified, watching as with each pass you spread a layer of sheen over his aching cock. “It’s fuckin’ amazing.”

You continued sliding his cock between your folds, moving your body back and forth rapidly, until his groans became so intense you were sure he’d come prematurely, so you slowed to an excruciating pace until you stopped, sitting still on the base of the cock.

He let out a strangled moan under his breath, almost high-pitched enough to be a whimper. “Woman…” he groaned, his voice drenched in a quivering ache. “I need ya.”

He tugged on your thighs with both hands, forcefully dragging you up and down his shaft once again, until you tore his hands from you, throwing them loosely above his head till they dangled over the arm of the sofa. “Hey,” you said. “You’re gonna come if you do that.”

“I—I wanna… Wanna come.”

He looked almost pitiful, panting out his words through trembling lips as his eyes hungrily trailed over your body, that body he had visualized in his head so many cold nights in those dense woods as he searched for his lost friend—searched for some kind of meaning to his life. When he settled back in Alexandria a year ago, he still couldn’t shake those thoughts from his mind. In fact, the yearning had only gotten worse. Now that you were here, finally really there and not just some blurry figment of his imagination, he couldn’t wait much longer.

“You’ll come,” you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft to lead it to your entrance. “I’ll make you come.”

“Ah, shit!” he blurted out as his tip entered your shallow end just for a brief moment. In a conscious act of near torture, you had pulled him out again. 

Redness blotted his face and neck as he strained himself. His cheeks puffed up with air, each breath labored and heavy. You watched in amusement as the prominent vein in his neck swelled and clenched under his sweat-speckled skin. 

When he calmed down for a moment, you let yourself sink down a little further onto his cock, heaving your own deep sigh of pleasure as you did so. 

You felt a powerful jolt send you bouncing upwards, and his cock snaking deeper inside you. His hips bucked up in quick succession, causing you to grip his shoulders in order to restore your balance. 

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out hoarsely. “Shit, I’m… I’m gonna…”

You pulled him out swiftly, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from the pit of his chest. “(Y/N)…” he whimpered, rolling his head back and forth in the best kind of agony. Still, it was agony. 

You knew what you were doing, of course. You were drawing him so close to the edge, then pulling him back before he could reach it. All he wanted was to feel you clenching around him, your body bouncing on his as you enveloped him in the warmth and sweet friction of your twitching walls. He’d feel that eventually, but for now, you wanted to play with him a little. 

He had gotten so close to release, though, that now he was rabid, practically foaming at the mouth and driven wild by lust and the pleasure he was being denied. It was exactly how you wanted him: desperate, almost primal in the way he needed you to release him. Not anyone else, not himself, you. 

As you sat on his cock once more, taking the entirety of its length inside of you, you felt his cock begin to twitch, signalling it was close to its point of relief. The deepness and the angle at which he penetrated was intoxicatingly good, and if you weren’t so focused on him, you might’ve taken the opportunity to let yourself have another orgasm, but you didn’t think he’d last much longer, not long enough for you to do that. 

Instead, you rode him hard again, arching your back and pinning his arms against the arm of the couch, hair cascading wildly around your face and bottom clenching hard with each thrust. 

Your own moans started to harmonize with his until the two of you created some kind of erotic symphony of strangled grunts and breathy whimpers. As his eyes clenched shut and his neck strained again until all his muscles showed through the red-tinted skin, you pulled him out once more, letting his cock spring up to meet his belly button.

“Fuckin’ shit!” he groaned. “Fuck me, woman!”

Words fell on deaf ears as you watched him squirm. If he really wanted to, he could’ve escaped the grip you had on his arms, but who was he to do such a thing? After all, he was the virgin, and you were guiding him. 

As your eyes locked onto his, you nearly gasped to see two glimmering pools of water forming in his eyes. Is he crying? 

“Please, (Y/N),” he practically whined under his breath. “I need you… I need you. Please.”

One small, jagged tear ran down his cheek, but your lips caught it before reaching his jawline. Kissing over to his lips, you jutted your tongue into his mouth to get another feel of his wily tongue.

“I love it when you beg me,” you whispered against his lips. “You’re such a good boy.”

If he had any willpower left in his body, he would’ve sassed you for the slightly degrading compliment, but he could hardly speak any word other than “please.”

So you sat yourself back down on the base of his cock, once again spreading your lips to envelope his shaft as you slid up and down, this time with the intention of letting him finish. 

When he pulled on your hips, tugging you faster along his shaft, you didn’t stop him, letting him use you to get himself off now. “Ah… yeah… shit…”

It didn’t take long at all for a small spurt of white liquid to emerge from his swollen red tip, with a series of bigger spurts following in quick succession and pooling on his stomach. His chest heaved and his face melted in pure bliss with each twitch of his cock that sent shocks through his core. He’d never felt an orgasm like that, not one from such contact with someone else, and surely not from contact with you, the only woman he could imagine as he touched himself at night. No, this was different. 

“Holy… shit,” he panted. “That was… so fuckin’ good.”

“Mm,” you hummed, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock and tucking it back in where it belonged. He twitched at the feeling of his still sensitive tip grazing the deepest part of you, but it felt too good to pull away, too warm and soft inside you. “We should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Eyes still closed as he processed his bliss, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead as you tucked your face into his neck. The couch was much too small for both of you in this position, but the closeness was worth the sacrifice of comfortability. 

“We shoulda,” he agreed, then let out a deep sigh. “Jesus, woman, you like to torture me, don’t ya?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the last seven years, huh? Torturing you is kind of my thing.”

His hand tangled in your hair until a strand formed a curl around his finger. He never thought he could be so entranced by just a piece of hair. That was how much you affected him—even the tiniest, most insignificant part of you was enough to distract him.

“Yeah, well,” he said, “please tell me I wasn’t the worst you ever had.”

You scoffed and nuzzled your nose into his neck, kissing his collarbone. “You were the best,” you said. His scoff of disbelief caused your eyes to flutter to meet his in pure genuineness. “Really. You’re the best.”

“Nah,” he said. “I sucked, you can say it.”

Well, he really hoped you wouldn’t, actually. His pride was at an all-time high, despite his self-deprecation. It was a hard habit to break, but the confidence he felt now was already another addiction he’d have to grapple with. 

“Daryl, I love you.” Your words were so matter-of-fact, so blatant and direct, that he needed to blink away his disbelief before letting your dead serious face come back into focus. “Sex isn’t anything without love… I don’t care that you’re a virg—Well, were a virgin. I love you, and that fact alone made it the best sex I’ve ever had. Plus, you’re really not that bad.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Mhm… Just a little sloppy, but we’ll work on that. Practice makes perfect.” You tugged on his chin to guide his lips back to yours, kissing them sweetly for just a short moment. Even the littlest, most innocent peck was enchanting to him.

“I love you,” he said, eyes turning hazy as the heaviness of his lids began to blur your visage. “Shoulda said it a long time ago… Shoulda done a lot of things a long time ago.”

You tilted your head and smiled. “You’re saying it now… That’s all that really matters.”

A comfortable silence settled in after a while, the steady beating of Daryl’s heart lulling you into a shallow sleep until his deep, syrupy voice gently roused you.

“Hey,” he said, softly shaking your shoulder. 

“Mhm?”

His nose nuzzled into your hair, where he left a small kiss, or maybe two, he was too sleepy to count, and quite hungry, as well.

“Got any peach pie?”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist Part 2

~

✏ Taglist

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[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Apple Crumble NSFW Alphabets Day 20: RZ Michael Myers

Day 20 is here! Only 11 more days of Fictober to go. I've decided the masterlist menu of everything on the first of November as that's obviously the first day anything non-Fictober related will go up. I do have something special planned for later in November so do keep tuned it!

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut, NSFW.

A is for Aftercare (What they're like after sex):

Wait? You want him to do what? Um ok? He probably will need a bit to warm up to anything really fluffy since he doesn't really know what aftercare and even after you explain it he'll probably be puzzled as to why that's something you want from him so take it slow.

B is for Body Part (Favorite on them and their partner):

He like his hands. All those years locked away in the mental hospital with all the time to make his masks the way he wants them. He doesn't really know emotions but he'd like to think he's proud of them.

On you it's your neck. His hands fit perfectly around it and he can give you a little squeeze if he wants. He has no desire to hurt you but he's also literally Michael Myers so the deep down urge is still always there.

C is for Cum (Anything to do with cum):

Michael isn't really a picky guy so anywhere is fine with him. You don't really get a say in it though, he cums where he wants and if you don't like it then that's too bad.

D is for Dirty Secret:

He sometimes pictures you in his head when he's out and about killing people and gets hard. The thrill of the kill only adds to this horniness and sometimes he's forced to jerk off right then and there, an image of you riding his cock in his mind and a dead body at his feet.

E is for Experience (How experienced are they?):

He's been locked in an asylum since he was a kid so no experience when you first meet but he's a really really quick learner. After the first couple sexual encounters he's pretty much got it down pat.

F is for Favorite Position:

Again something he's not too terribly picky about. Though he does prefer ones where he's in full control of you and your body (or should I say his).

G is for Goofy (How serious are they?):

Are you kidding? I don't think he's ever cracked a smile in his life. The most you'll get out of him is an amused sounding snort but that's about it. He takes sex like killing, very seriously.

H is for Hair (How well groomed are they?):

They don't let them have razors in the asylum and that's really all I'll say. So buy him a razor and maybe at least some instructions on what he should do.

I is for Intimacy (How are they during the act, romantic etc):

Doesn't know what romance is really. I mean he knows he feels at least something for you, isn't sure what it is, but he knows he feels it. So he'll try and focus on both your pleasures while he's fucking you.

J is for Jackoff (Do they masturbate and how often?):

He does it sometimes as it says under dirty secret. It was also the only form of anything sexual he could do in the asylum so when he got out he slowed down cause he had you but he never stopped doing it.

K is for Kink (Their kinks):

Big on predator and prey, he's not going to actually kill you but he likes to chase you through the woods then have his way with you on the forest floor. The thrill of the hunt really gets him going.

L is for Location (Favorite places to have sex):

Yet another thing Michael isn't going to be picky about. He can do it anywhere and everywhere he literally doesn't give a fuck. He prefers to have a bed at least for your sake since he can get...rough but if not he'll work with what he's got.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on?):

He's just kinda always turned on? Especially when he's around you. The whole thrill of the kill and all that's been mentioned also helps to get him going. Even if it's not particularly sexual it's more adrenaline then anything.

N is for No (Something they won't do):

There isn't really anything he won't do. He quite literally down for pretty much anything. If he wants to try something it's not like you really have a say it anything anyway.

He'll never actually force you into anything though, if you don't want to have sex he'll back off and go kill someone instead.

O is for Oral (Oral Preferences):

Hear me out, I can see him as someone who doesn't really enjoy getting his dick sucked. He just doesn't see the hype around it sure it feels good but he's just kinda eh about it.

P is for Pace (How fast or slow? Are they rough?):

Really really rough and medium speed. Like I'm talking your getting pinned down with your hands above his head while he bottoms out and thrusts his entire length into you at a pace he gets to set.

Q is for Quickie ( Do they like quickies?):

You have things that can be counted as quickies but Michael really is just gonna keep fucking until he's satisfied so don't expect quickies that are actually "quick".

R is for Risk (Are they down to experiment?):

Yeah he's pretty much down for just about anything. The only thing stopping him from doing something more then once is if he doesn't like it or if it doesn't do anything for him.

S if for Stamina (How long can they go for?):

Literally forever. Don't ask me how but literally forever.

T is for Toys (Do they use toys and do they like them?):

Another thing on the list of he's down for it but if he doesn't like it he's out. He does really like watching you fuck yourself with toys though, well until he starts to get jealous and throws the toy away so he can fuck you.

U if for Unfair (Do they like to tease?):

He teases but doesn't realize that's what he's doing. Like he'll get you so worked up then just toss you aside to leave for a night of murdering people and you'll just have to wait and suffer till he gets back.

V is for Volume (How loud can they get?):

Not a peep. Dead silence. The only sound that can be heard is you if you make any noise (He makes you) and the sound of skin slapping on skin.

W is for Wild Card (Random things):

Sometimes, rarely but it does happen. If he recognizes he's been just a bit too rough with you the next morning you'll wake up to a really poorly made attempt at a breakfast and no Michael in sight. He'll deny adamantly if you EVER ask him about it but he's obviously the culprit.

X is for X-Ray (What are they packing):

9 inches, and I'll be taking no further questions at this time.

Y is for Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

As previously talked about he can really go whenever he feels like it for however long. Especially with you around, He may not be right in the head about whether or not he loves you but he knows for sure he loves fucking you.

Z is for ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep?):

He doesn't really ever sleep to begin with? Sometimes you'll catch him dozing off after but only for a couple hours before he's up again ready to terrorize Haddonfield.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader)

a/n: again, no one asked for this, but i've been rewatching supernatural and there is something about season 5 Lucifer that just hits the spot for me. this one will be multiple chapters (i swear), a bit on the darker side. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (nothing too scandalous), Soulmates (but not really), follows season 5 storyline, Kinda Depressing, Strongly Inspired by "Preacher's Daughter" by Ethel Cain

Summary: Knowing God has an actual plan for you would be comforting for most people. You, however, seem to be always down on your luck.

PT.2

The foliage is damp with the night's air, water seeping into the fabric of your jeans, as you sit in the low bushes, watching. Smoke still fills your lungs, and grief still fills your heart, Jo and Ellen's faces etched just beneath your eyelids. Tears stain your cheeks, drying slowly on your skin, forming an uncomfortable crust. It's been such a long time since you've experienced loss such as this. One that rips something out of you and refuses to give it back. You must've grown too comfortable since Dean has been brought back, life needed to bring you back down. Your hands hurt from the tight grip you hold on a branch of a nearby tree, nerves locking you in place, as you watch Dean approach the Devil. Except, you're not there anymore. 

It's warm inside Bobby's home, and you've changed out of your past outfit, scattering it on the floor, never to be used again. Still, you can feel phantom moisture on your knees, elbows, on the palms of your hands. Coldness, like nothing you've ever experienced, seeps deep into your bones, taking root within you. No candle, no prayer, no ancient exorcism can cleanse you of the revelations you've seen tonight. Your head feels heavy, when you drop it onto the pillow, as if some weight is pressing you further down, through the comforter, through the bed and the wooden floor. Through all the layers of Earth, until you're right where you're supposed to be. 

It's unfortunate, you thought back then, compelled to reveal yourself from your hideout by one command you couldn't ignore, he looks just like any human. Tall and lean, with a little softness to his body. His clothes were unassuming as well, casual. As if he just took a stroll through the woods from a supermarket. No one told you the name of his vessel, who he was before he said yes, why did he do it. His eyes were ordinary as well. Blue and gray, aged, tired. Human.

It would've been so easy to pass him on the streets, not knowing. He could've been one of the patrons in the countless bars you've visited while on the hunt. Handsome, yes, with an aura of a beaten dog around him, that, in any other circumstances would've made him irresistable to you. You could never refuse a hopeless case, now you supposed you knew why. 

Sam made you tea. It sits untouched on your night stand, steam flowing in dancing ribbons into the ceiling. Somehow, you can't seem to force yourself to drink it, even if you know the intention behind it has been kind. You couldn't eat as well, the smell of cooking coming from Bobby's kitchen reminded you too much of the smell of smoke coming from the exploding hardware store. And his smell. 

Burning coals, cedar wood, jasmine, all of them were pleasant once. Now, you know they will always be stuck in your head with only one association. Lucifer. 

Even thinking of his name brings a wave of shivers running down your back, as you curl into yourself on the bed. Your fingers scratch at skin of your jaw, trying to regain some sense of autonomy. Still, you can feel a phantom of his icy touch, where he grabbed your face like his hands were meant for it. And in a way they were. At least, that's what he told you. 

The demons gathered around the mass grave didn't even react, as you ran out of your cover, pushed to reveal yourself by the sight of Dean's flying body. Because how else would he coax you out, if not through the hurt of your boys? In hindsight, you were glad Dean was unconscious for the most part of this ordeal. After the night's events, it was hard to look him in the eye, you didn't need him witnessing your downfall over your head as well. Sam tried to make his way over to you, feet sliding cautiously through the grass, but suddenly Lucifer's eyes were on you, and you could feel your fate get sealed then and there. 

He clasped his hands in front of him, pursing his lips as he took you in, cowering on the ground, trying hard to find Dean's pulse. 

- You boys brought me a gift - he mused, eyes crinkling with some strange emotion - You shouldn't have. 

One gesture later, you're up on your feet, limbs trembling as he abandoned his shovel in favor of making his way towards you. You're frozen, fear seizing you in a tight grip, and you can't seem to think straight, as you watch him approach. Last day on Earth, you muse, life flashing before your eyes, when he raises both his hands. And then he grips your face, gentle yet confident, and the world around you spins. He's cold, so cold it's unnatural. Your lips fall apart in a silent gasp. 

- Do you know who you are? - he asks in a quiet voice that suddenly makes you understand why he's temptation incarnate - Do you know why you were put on this Earth?

All you can do is stare, confusion creasing your eyebrows. His breath reaches your collarbones, as he lowers his head slightly. You can hear him chuckle to himself. The sound makes you shudder, fear and anticipation mix within your gut. 

- All those years of hunting, struggling... - your life seems so trivial, coming from his lips - It all lead you here, to me. Doesn't that sound lovely?

It doesn't. It most definitely doesn't. Tears of confusion prick at the corners of your eyes, your breathing quickens. Panic settles into your nerves like a paralyzing blanket. Because here stands a threat of magnitude you couldn't even dream of. The Satan, the Devil, Bible's biggest villain. And he knows something about you, that you cannot comprehend. 

- It's really quite pathetic, when you think about it - he muses, hands leaving your face in a flash, as he starts to pace in thought.

Swaying in your place, you risk looking at Sam, his confusion mirroring your own. Dean is still unconscious beside him. There's a thin smudge of blood running down his forehead, and you want to move so badly. You've spent years caring for these boys, being there for them, whenever they needed you. Yet, at this crucial moment all you can do, is stare in horror.  

- My Father's last ditched attempt - Lucifer turns to you with a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes - To give me my own special little bag of worms. To own, to care for, to change my mind. 

- What?

Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears. Lies. Those had to be lies. He's Satan after all, manipulation was his forte. Yes, that had to be it. Just another, messed up way at getting an upper hand over Sam. 

This time, you nearly scream when he advances towards you, his cold hands immediately finding purchase on your face, covering your jaw and your cheeks. He presses against your face so hard, you have to take a step back as he comes closer still. Sam's figure flashes out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly you feel the rough surface of a tree bark digging into your back. 

- You - for the first time you can hear some tension in his voice, something more than cold indifference - You were made for me, Honey. Just like Sam is destined to be my vessel, you're destined to be by my side. To own, to care. - he repeats those words like a mantra, and you want to throw up at how genuine he sounds.

He smiles at your terror. Tears start to flow freely from your eyes, falling on his cold fingers, skipping down his arms in smudges. His hands start to move, a perversion of a caress, as he ruffles your hair. Your head bounces off the tree, and you try with all your might to free yourself out of his grip. Your limbs flail at your sides, and you crane your neck so far back, your muscles start to strain. He doesn't let go, pressing himself closer, one of his hands coming up to grip your hair. Your nails dig into his cotton shirt, as you push against his chest to no avail. 

- No - you whisper, your rejection falling flat against his unaffected stare - I'd never...

- See, but that's the best part - his sudden enthusiasm scares you deeper, than any passive stare ever could. - Unlike Sam...

You backpedal into the tree again, as he leans closer still. His cold breath mixes with your short, panicked ones, and your stomach churns, when he tilts his head in curiosity, as if he's experiencing this intimacy for the first time. And in a way, you suppose he is. Then, his eyes meet yours, gray captivates you, and you hold your breath on instinct.

- You don't have to say yes to me. 

You're not even allowed the decency of taking a gasp of air, when his lips press into yours. It feels beyond weird. He's unnaturally cold, and there is a sort of unpracticed sloppiness in the way he fights for your mouth to fit against each other. Reminding you of your first, inexperienced romances, he smashes your faces together until you feel both sets of your teeth through the flesh. Then, he pulls back just a smidgen, taking in your terrified face. Something flashes through his expression, and he sighs, leaning back towards you, stopping just short of your left ear. 

- Kiss me like you mean it, or I'll make Dean eat his intestines. 

He looks at you, just once, letting you know this is not a game. Your heart stops. 

Dean's unconscious body starts to move by the tree, and never in your life have you felt so helpless. So, when Lucifer unavoidably leans back down, you give him all you've got. Your body arches, hands come up to his hair, and you will yourself not to feel grossed out by the feeling of his cold tongue slipping past your teeth. It's a fight for survival, you remind yourself, as his hands move to your back, rubbing your skin like a horny teenager in a bathroom stall. The short supply of air you've been granted runs out quickly, and as pressure builds in your lungs, you start to push against the Archangel's chest. He doesn't register what you're doing, not at first, confusing your sudden unwillingness as some sort of late attempt at rebellion. That is, until you bang your fist against his shoulder, letting out a muffled scream. 

Finally, he detaches himself, hair even more disheveled than before. You take a heaving gasp of air, as you brace yourself against the tree, your vision swimming ever so slightly. Lucifer watches you, his body hunched over, as if he's observing some middle schooler's science project. There are new tears in your eyes, just waiting to fall. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are puffy from his unpracticed assaults. His right hand comes up to his face, and he bites on his index finger in thought. 

- You really are human - he muses to himself, and with every fiber of your being, you try to explode his head with your brain - That's no fun, you'll break so easily...

- Fuck you - your words make his eyebrows raise, and he straightens out with a flourish.

- Fuck you - he repeats, mocking your tone - Yeah, I probably will - you watch, disgusted, as he sends a wink towards Sam.

Then, he's back to his shovel, back to his mass grave, where he completes the ritual. 

You can't move, not really, even when Sam tugs on your shoulder. Your head runs empty, realization of your current predicament far from registered in your brain. You stay frozen in your spot, when Castiel arrives, taking the three of you back to Bobby's house. Only, when the Angel's hand pushes against your rib cage, only when you feel Enochian symbols burn into your bones, do you lift your gaze. Apologetic doesn't really cover the way Castiel looks at you, and the pity painted on his face drags you down more than any Devil could.  

Sam is the only one to truly understand, when you fall to the floor, shock, anger and dread spilling out of you like a broken faucet. He's the only one that truly knows how it feels to have your bodily autonomy stripped away by the literal Devil. How it feels to have a threat of such magnitude hanging over you, every day. Which is why, he's the one to lift you in his arms, and get you to the guest room, lead away by the concerned glances of the rest of the men. He's the one to make you tea, bring you fresh clothes. He opens the window when the smell of dinner makes you retch. And finally, he's the one to explain, what really happened back on that hill to the rest of the group.

From your fetal position on the bed you can hear Dean curse, throw something somewhere. All the ways he knows, how to show he cares. Despite everything, it makes you smile, face pressed to the pillow that smells like cigarette smoke and beer. You're doomed. There's nothing you can do against God's plan, and you can feel that thought take root in you like an invasive species ready to destroy every crop in it's path. Still, despite it all, a sense of security falls upon you like a decieving blanket. 

- What sort of a messed up game is this? - Dean screams somewhere in the house, you assume it's at Cass, the only one even remotely aware of your destiny. 

The idea, that God made you specifically to be Satan's personal therapist sounds far fetched at best, but given how the last couple of months have been going, you're more inclined to believe in the absolutely worst scenarios. You don't even need to hear Castiel's response. The sound of glass breaking is telling enough. Then, a door slamms somewhere, and the house falls into heavy silence.

You can't think. Can't allow yourself to fall apart more than you've had already. So, you focus on the sound of your own breathing, interlinked with your heartbeat. Steady, alive. Your eyelids are heavy, eyes burn with drying tears, so you close them and sigh. Exhaustion pinns you in place, sinking you into the blankets. Darkness welcomes you like a long lost friend.

Your boys will find a way, they always do. And Lucifer can't find you, not with the wards Castiel has put on you. You'll have to thank him i the morning, you think, and it's the last conscious thought you have, before slipping into sleep, shivering like an abandoned child. 

[hopefulatrocity]

Snow And Embers- Part 2

Note: I was not going to do a part 2 for this story but then my brain was like "Part 2? Lucy Gray's POV? Yes." and it wouldn't leave my head. This is my first full smut I've written in years so I hope it's good. Possible OOC dialogue for Coriolanus? Edited by @loganlostitall. Thank you!

Part 1

CW/TW: SMUT!! 18+ only. Unsafe P in v, creampie, breeding kink, oral sex(male receiving), fingering, use of cum as lube, light choking

Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Lucy Gray Baird was many things. Kind, resilient, stubborn, loving. But one thing she wasn't was stupid. 

After her first time with Coriolanus, she thought it was passion, an innate need to claim each other and become one. Coriolanus couldn't keep his hands off of her. Any second they were alone, he was working his hands under her dress and bringing lightning strikes to her nerve endings with every pass of his calloused fingers. To be fair, she couldn't get enough of him either. She had lovers before. But none like this. The boys before, they could hardly be called men, were only focused on themselves. They'd say all the right things but the second they got her under them, it was like she ceased to exist and all they cared for was their own pleasure. He was different. Despite his inexperience, Coryo relished in the pleasure he gave her. Every moan from her lips or arch from her back was just another piece of wood that stoked the flames of his passion for her. 

It was small things that made her realize his intentions were…. More than just being in the moment together. Her experience with men wasn't incredibly extensive but she did know that each man had their own personal desires, things that made them aroused more than others. Her first, Toby Kormin, was extremely aroused by tying Lucy Gray up. And Billy Taupe had an interesting fascination with her feet. Coriolanus…. Well she was fairly certain that Coriolanus liked the idea of getting her pregnant. 

In truth, the first time he came in her, had been a mistake. She was usually very careful in that regard. She made sure her partners knew, in no uncertain terms, they always had to pull out. Lucy Gray had the know-how to deal with any accidents if they did occur. The day she started her monthly, at the tender age of 13, her Momma sat her down and showed her all the herbs to make a preventative tea. But it wasn't fool proof. And having kids was not something she wanted anytime soon. If at all. But that first time with Coriolanus, Lucy Gray lost all common thought when it came to safe sex. All she saw were those deep blue eyes of his staring down at her with a primal need that she had never experienced before. Before she could stop herself, she was wrapping her legs tight around his hips, practically locking him in as he came deep inside her. And that happened twice more that night. 

Lucy Gray came to her senses the next morning. She drank her tea and told Coriolanus that that couldn't happen again. He needed to pull out or they would have to stick to oral or hand play. Along with a bright blush that peppered his pale skin, there was almost a look of disappointment in his eyes. He briefly glanced down at her stomach before he nodded in agreement. 

The next two times they were together, he obliged without problems. He pulled out and came on her stomach like she asked. But it almost felt…. Wrong. 

So the next time, just as Coriolanus was about to pull out, she dug her nails into his tight cheeks and pushed him back inside her. There weren't any words said, but it seemed like they both came to an understanding that night. 

Lucy Gray made sure she carried a bag of her morning-after tea, anytime she saw him. She told him that they should try to be safe if they could, but she knew how they both could get lost in the moment. It was a delusional platitude for herself though. Deep down she knew that he wasn't going to cum anywhere else but inside of her from then on. 

He didn't pull out after that, even if he promised to try. In fact, his need for her became even more evident.  

It started with innocent touches. Often, she found Coriolanus's hands hovering over her stomach. He'd rub the area slowly sometimes, almost reverently. A fight had broken out in the Hob one night, and he had placed himself in front of her. His body a barrier between her and the brawling men, that Sejanus and another peacekeeper were trying to separate. But the only thing she could think of was how his hand was slightly behind his back, pressing into her abdomen. Almost like he was protecting more than just her from the violence in front of them.  

Some nights she woke to him whispering to the area. He claimed it was to help him sleep, reciting old stories to tire his mind. But she always knew when Coriolanus was lying. The intensity of his gaze would magnify and he would press himself closer to her. 

More than once, after their coupling, she woke up to a pillow under her hips. Coriolanus's eyes would be dark as he watched her wake. The plush object had her cunt angled so not a drop of their mixed fluids could escape her. Before she could even ask why he had done it, he would be on her again, using his fingers or his cock to claim her thoroughly. 

It wasn't long before he openly admitted to his desire.

Lucy Gray could feel the orgasm building in him. Her hands pressed to his stomach and she felt the muscles clenching and his hips jerked periodically against her lips. The tightening muscles of his thighs had him bucking into her mouth. His fingers were tight in her dark curls, and she felt his nails prick her skin as he clenched them thoughtlessly.  Coriolanus was a man who loved control. She loved sucking that control straight from his cock and turning him into mud in her hands. 

“Don't you dare swallow, Lucy Gray. Keep my cum in your pretty mouth.”, he growled. His voice was radiating dominance but she knew she had him in the palm of her hands.  The vibrations of his deep voice flowed through her and she clenched her thighs together. Her nipples were peaked and bare and she wished desperately that he was touching them. She could feel the sound in her clit, throbbing in time with her pulse. Nodding slightly around his cock, she took him as deep in her mouth as possible, swallowing around the tip to create a myriad of warmth and suction.  

“I’m about to cum.”, he grunted, his hips stuttering from the familiar feeling. Coriolanus gripped her hair tightly and bucked one last time into her mouth, the tip of himself hitting the back of her throat and making her gag a small bit. Salty seed flooded her mouth and Lucy Gray had to fight not to swallow it on instinct. 

Coriolanus pulled out of her mouth, a string of their fluids leading from the tip of his cock to her pretty pink lips. Her cheeks were puffed out, holding in as much of his cum as possible, just like he told her. 

One large hand gripped under chin, his fingers cupping either side of her cheeks. He used a light pressure on the underside of her chin to wordlessly command her up onto her shaking legs. 

Blue eyes bore into her own, that dark swirl of shadow filling his irises, and he lowered his voice to a deep growl. 

“Spit.”, Coriolanus ordered, holding his other hand up to her lips, cupped to catch all the seed that dripped out. Shock and lust radiated through her body, wondering what he planned to do. The order sending heat to her pussy, and making it clench around thin air. In public, Coriolanus was sweet and needy, a typical boy in love. But behind closed doors, he became more dominate. Lucy Gray wasn't scared though. There was darkness in his eyes, but the brightness of hers tempered it out. 

Taking her lack of response for disobedience, Coriolanus tightened his fingers on both of her cheeks, pinching the skin and forcing her lips open slightly. A small amount of his white fluid slid from the pink flesh and he groaned. He'd love to show the whole Hob how she looked right now. Eyes glazed over, thighs rubbing together seeking any kind of friction, begging him to take her and he hadn't even gotten his hands on her pussy yet. 

“Spit now, Lucy Gray. Or I'll leave you here, dripping wet, and you won't get to cum. ”, they were practically nose to nose at that point. Whimpering at the thought of being left without his touch, Lucy Gray opened her lips and let his cum flow into his offered hand. The seed was warm and mixed with her own spit, a contrast of their two bodies. 

Keeping the cooling liquid in his hand, Coryo pressed a small kiss to her lips, moaning lightly at the salty taste of his cum and her smoky flavor mixed together. 

“On the bed, Songbird.”, the order rumbled from his chest. “Spread your legs. Show me how much you liked the taste of me.”

Another sound of desperation left Lucy Gray's lips and she did exactly as he asked. She quickly stripped her skirt off and tossed her panties to the side with it, landing right next to her torn shirt. The air was chilly against her heated lower lips and the mix of sensations made her thighs shake with wanton need. Part of Lucy Gray was ashamed of how she was acting. She always considered herself to be an independent woman, one who despised the idea of taking orders from a man. But Coryo was different. He was her beautiful Capitol man. The one who saved her life and made her feel things she had never felt before. 

She crawled onto the bed and rolled onto her back, rising her upper half up onto her elbows so she could see her lover's reaction. The predatory gaze from Coryo's ice blue eyes only made her wetter and she slowly parted her legs, exposing her soaking core to the cold air.  

“Fuck.”, the expletive slipped from his red lips, swollen from their heated kisses. Lucy Gray smiled sweetly at him. She loved when she was able to entice such reactions from the normally proper man. 

“Please, Coryo”, she whispered, voice barely audible. 

Coriolanus’ long legs covered the distance between them in two easy steps. His cock was already hardening again against his thigh and Lucy Gray could feel the ache inside her, begging for him. 

“You're so beautiful, Lucy Gray”, his Capitol accent was thick with desire and the sound made her hips instinctively arch up to try to get closer to him. 

With his seed still in his hand, he maneuvered himself between her legs with his knees and leaned over her, his other hand holding him up. The bed gave a loud squeak from their combined weight, but neither of them were in the head space to hear it. 

“Hold your legs apart, love. As wide as you can”, Coryo said using his eyes to look from her hands to her parted legs. 

Submissively, Lucy Gray did as he asked, spreading her legs wider for him, hands grasping her thighs tightly. 

“You're so wet you're sparkling like a diamond, Lucy Gray. Is that all for me? Just from tasting me?”, his deep voice rolled through her body like an early morning breeze, making goosebumps appear on her tanned skin. 

Another whine escaped her lips and she nodded at him. “Only you, Coryo.”

She knew how much he loved hearing how she belonged to him. The narrowing of his eyes and deep intake of breath was a byproduct of that. She felt his length jump against her leg and she resisted the urge to drop her thigh and touch him. But she knew Coryo didn't like it when she didn't listen to him. He would keep his promise and not let her cum if she disobeyed.  

“I don't think we should waste this. Should we, Lucy Gray?”, he pressed his nose against hers, rubbing them together softly. He lifted his hand to indicate the white cum still cupped in his hand. She shook her head vehemently. Although she didn't have an idea as to what he had planned, her body desperately wanted to know. 

Eyes locked together, Coriolanus brought his cupped hand to his mouth and dipped his tongue into his seed, letting the white liquid coat his tongue. Moaning at the visual, Lucy Gray lifted her head and sought his lips out with her own. The salty cum had cooled and was a stark contrast to his burning mouth. And she loved it. The taste was nearly indescribable. Her tongue tangled with his and she searched for every last bit of the flavor. She was so lost in their frantic kiss that she didn't even see him moving his hand between her legs. The jolting sensation of the cold liquid meeting her overheated flesh had her gasping into his mouth. Arching her hips up to meet his hand, she tangled her fingers into his cropped hair, needing him to be closer. But his hair was too short and he easily pulled himself back, smirking at the look of frustration on her face. 

“Watch me, Lucy Gray.”, he guided her eyes down with his own to look between her legs. 

Lucy Gray panted as she watched him angle his hand up and use his fingers to guide his cum into her cunt. There was enough to cover her fluttering pussy and flow back up onto her clit. Her hips jolted at the feeling of her heated flesh being coated with him. 

“This is the only place my cum belongs. Do you hear me, Songbird?”, Coriolanus asked her, his intense blue eyes searing into her soul. He pressed the tips of his index and middle fingers inside of her tight entrance, funneling seed into it's rightful place. Her heated walls clamped down on his fingers and milked the spend off the long digits. He began a slow rhythm, pushing them in and out of her, trying to force his cum as deep as he could. He had pinned her thighs wide open with his hips and she used the reprieve to grasp onto him, needing something to anchor her floating mind. Lucy Gray's nails dug into Coriolanus’ muscled shoulders and he basked in the pain. His Lucy Gray was gentle, and the fact that he pushed her to the point of inflicting damage to him appealed to his pride. She was so lost in the feeling of taking him that she didn't care that her blunt nails were drawing blood, staining the air with a copper scent. 

“Yes, Coryo.”, she breathed out shakily. 

Lucy Gray writhed underneath him. Each press of his fingers deep inside her sent shivers down her spine. He watched her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her hips up against his hands. 

He slowed the movements of his fingers and she whimpered in protest. “Look at me, Lucy Gray. You don't get to cum unless you're looking at me.”

His order made her clit throb even more, and she quickly opened her eyes, not wanting to lose the feeling he was invoking inside her. 

“Good girl. Always so good for me.”, Coriolanus whispered against her ear, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of her ear. He increased the thrusts of his fingers, making sure to curl the tips so it brushed that small spongy spot inside of her. That was all it took for the pressure in her stomach to expand, shockwaves of pleasure rolled through her body as she called out his name.

Coryo didn't even wait for her inner muscles to stop clenching before he was retracting his fingers from her and replacing them with the tip of his cock. He slammed in, her wetness and grasping muscles sucking him in like he was already part of her body.  All pretense of softness was gone and his primal desire for her overtook all senses. The seed he had pushed into her with his fingers, bubbled around his cock and formed a white ring around the base of him. It glistened with every thrust and Lucy Gray watched reverently as he pushed in and out of her. 

“Feels so good, Coryo.”, she tightened her grips on his shoulders and used them for leverage to press her hips up into his. She met every thrust with a clench of her inner muscles and the reaction from him was nearly feral. 

The sound that left his mouth was almost a snarl, the hands grasping her hips dug in deep enough to bruise. 

“Fuck you're so beautiful. You're mine, Lucy Gray. Do you understand?”, each word was punctuated with a hard thrust and she swore she could feel him all the way in the back of her throat. Coriolanus was well endowed and the angle he was holding her hips had him slamming as deep inside her as possible. Each movement had his cock squelching in the mess of his previous release and her wetness. 

Her mind was so occluded with pleasure that all she could manage was a nod and a gasp. 

That wasn't enough for him though. Coriolanus growled and moved one of his hands from her hip to her throat. His long fingers, still sticky with their combined fluids, applied pressure to both sides of her neck, slowing the blood flow to her brain. The fogginess of her thoughts only increased her pleasure and she clamped down on his cock, tighter than before. 

“Your pussy is mine, Lucy Gray. Every part of you is mine,” he punctuated with a deep thrust, the tip of himself hitting the entrance to her uterus. He released a little bit of pressure on her neck, Allowing for a rush of blood to fill her head. She gasped but tried to push her throat into his fingers again. If he wasn't so lost in the pleasure of fucking her, he might have smirked.  

Coriolanus released her throat, despite her noises of protest, and brought the fingers down to where they were joined. He could feel the orgasm building inside of him. His balls were tight to his body and he knew he didn't have long. But he refused to come without her. He circled her clit, the mix of their fluids providing enough lube that he was practically slipping off the bundle of nerves with each roll of his fingers. 

“Gonna cum soon, Songbird. Fuck. I'm gonna put a baby in you. Don't care how long it takes. Want everyone to know you're mine. Stomach all full of me.”, His hips began to stutter, his thrusts frantic. His normal, proper speech pattern was husky and shortened. His only thoughts on the pleasure her pussy was causing him, and the need to breed her. 

His words sent a spike of heat right to her clit. It was something she had suspected for awhile. But to hear him say the words in the heat of the moment, it brushed a primal part of her brain that she didn't know existed. The sounds he was making in her ear, vocalizations of his ecstasy, were what sent her over the edge. Knowing that she was the one causing his pleasure–that he was using her body to get off–made her feel powerful and in control despite being pinned under him. Lucy Gray felt her pussy clamp down on him, her muscles contracting and inviting him to cum deep inside her. 

Coriolanus came with a guttural moan–the noise muffled by his face pressing into her neck. His final thrust pushed him deep inside, ropes of his seed coating her inner walls and pooling against her cervix. 

They stayed like that for awhile. Chests expanding in sync, and their breathing labored. Coriolanus still buried deep inside her, pressing soft kisses to the curve of her neck. She ran her fingers over the soft fuzz of his hair rhythmically and nuzzled her nose against his ear every minute or so. 

When he finally softened, Coriolanus pulled out of her. The wet sucking noise made her already flushed face turn a deeper shade of red. Looking down, Lucy Gray noticed that his length was coated in the remnants of his seed and her own cum. 

He pressed a deep kiss to her lips and reached over the side of the bed to grab one of the pillows he had brought. Lips still attached to hers, he lifted her hips gently, mindful of the bruises that were already beginning to form on her tanned skin, and pushed the plush cushion under her hips. He pulled back and nuzzled his nose against hers. 

“Keep your hips up, Lucy Gray. I don't want to see a drop of my seed leaving that pretty pussy of yours,” his voice was deep and laden with animal instinct. “You're mine.”

From then on, Coriolanus wasn't quiet about his intentions during their coupling, and even outside of it. His hand was constantly on her stomach, and he was consistently whispering words of his desires in her ear. Sejanus found it particularly funny watching Lucy Gray blush and fan herself during those moments. 

Despite his words and actions of his intentions to get her pregnant, Coriolanus didn't interfere with Lucy Gray drinking her morning after tea. Although the looks of disdain he shot the mug each time made a primal warmth pool in her belly. And the tea worked. 

Until it didn't. 

[writethrough]

The Diviner (Part V)

(Morpheus x Prophetess Reader)

Synopsis: Your body needs time to heal, but your unconscious is finally dreaming.

Warnings: None? (Message me if you see any.)

Word Count: 3219

A/N: Did you really think I'd leave you hanging a full week after that little blurb of a last chapter? I think I've more than made up for it with this sucker.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck it out with me. I really enjoyed hearing what you like about this series.

To everyone who has reblogged, you are spectacular humans and deserve an endless supply of your favorite food.

I hope you all enjoy this final chapter! I'd love to know what you thought of this series, and if I should post more multi-part fics in the future.

Series Masterlist

You wander. A maze of darkness before you.  

You exhale and remember Morpheus.  

A room appears, lit by stained glass, with a throne in the middle. And he's there, alive, staring at you in shock. 

—  

“I don’t understand,” you say. “How am I awake?”  

You were dying. At least it felt like you were dying. So, why are you...fine?  

“If I may?” Lucienne asks. Morpheus called for her as soon as he saw you.  

His chin dips a fraction, but it’s enough for Lucienne to continue.  

“Given your abilities, I believe the severity of your injuries—and healing in the Dreaming—has allowed your subconscious to manifest.” She smiles, pleased with her next words. “You’re dreaming, my lady.”  

Your brow furrows, and you glance from her to Morpheus.  

“How is that possible? If I’m healing, shouldn’t my mind be recovering as well?”  

“Your mind is the most resilient part of you, prophetess. It stands to reason it would need little to no time to replenish,” Morpheus says.  

Your eyes lower to the floor, considering this.  

For centuries, you’ve seen possible futures—travesties no one could imagine. And you haven’t forgotten one.  

Day in and day out, vision after vision, a constant rush of images, sounds, smells, and even sensations when intense enough. Your mind has built up a tolerance for nearly anything and everything.  

It seems almost dying is child's play for it though your body would be down for some time.  

You take in Morpheus’ throne room, truly seeing where you are. “I’m…dreaming.” And you laugh. In disbelief, in wonder—in sheer joy.  

You are dreaming.  

—  

Morpheus transported your body into his realm as soon as you fainted.  

Between your physical injuries and the attack meant for Morpheus, your only chance was the magic and tools in the Dreaming.  

Lucienne, Matthew, and Death helped him stabilize you, but he never expected you to walk right up to him as if you were fine.  

However your body absorbed the attack, it caused your powers to shut down, and you’re experiencing the Dreaming for the first time in centuries.  

You’re acting yourself mostly, but sometimes you grow tired, your physical form telling your unconscious you aren’t out of the woods yet.  

Morpheus urges you to take a seat, worry flashing through his eyes.  

“I’m okay,” you say. “It’s just a minor spell.”  

“I wish I could do more,” he says, hand still on the back of your bicep.  

“You’ve done plenty. More than I could ever hope for.”  

His jaw clenches, a twitch of movement, but you catch it. You’ve gotten better at picking up his micro-expressions.  

“I mean it, Morpheus. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.” You try to push as much conviction in the words as possible.   

“You wouldn’t have been in harm's way if it wasn’t for me.”  

You shake your head, dizzying yourself and need to rest it on your hand. Morpheus’ brow pinches slightly.  

“Warrens decided to trap you and use me. I should've predicted that.”  

“That’s not in your ability,” he says.  

“And I should’ve figured I'd be in danger when Death said you’d be fine. I should’ve known she saw me dying and not you.”

It clicked not longer after you woke up. Of course, Death knew what was supposed to happen.

“You must not focus on the past. It will do nothing to aid your recovery.”  

You sigh. “I know. I just feel so stupid.”  

Your eyes are downcast. It surprises you when a gentle touch lifts your chin and directs you to focus on him.  

“I will not have you speaking as if you’ve done something wrong,” he says. “Because of you, I am alive. I will forever be grateful.”  

He waits for an answer. All you can do is nod.  

His touch vanishes, and he stands.  

“Perhaps I can show you more of the Dreaming.”  

You give him a small smile. “I’d like that.”  

—  

Time moves differently in the Dreaming. It was best when you stopped trying to keep track of it. All you know is that you’ve been recovering for some time. Long enough for you to have your role carved out here and for the residents to call you by name.  

Your exhaustion and dizzy spells are few and far between, but they’re intense and accompanied by symptoms of visions. A faint smell, a phantom touch, even a whisper of a voice, but no matter how much you try, you can’t hang onto them. They slip through your fingers before you recognize what they are. It’s like you’re missing a limb.  

Today, the loss is affecting you more than you thought it could. You miss your ability. As much trouble as it can cause, you somehow feel untethered from yourself. Even with your body lying unconscious, you’re more of a shell now than ever.  

And as much as you try to hide it, somehow, Morpheus knows.  

“You will return to yourself,” he says.  

You’re sitting in Fiddler’s Green on a bench beneath a grove of magnolia trees.  

“It feels like it’s been years,” you say, rubbing your arm. You haven’t felt the breeze on your skin since the attack. You hardly notice it now as the grass moves with it.  

You can tell he’s about to respond, and you already know what he’ll say.  

“Don’t tell me ‘it takes time’ or ‘be patient.’ I’ve been patient. I’ve had to be patient since Destiny gave me this damn power, and now I can’t even access it because I missed the signs last time!” You rub your face, trying to push the frustration out.  

He lets you have your moment to feel that anger.  

“Immortality is crueler than death,” he begins. “It's companions are loneliness and waiting.”  

You look at him, scanning his features, and nod. Your agitation cools into sympathy. 

“I forget what happened to you sometimes. I’m sorry.”  

“I will not accept an unnecessary apology,” he says. “My experiences do not outweigh yours.”  

“Nevertheless, I’m free here. You weren’t.”  

He locks eyes with you, a softness to them. “I am also free.”  

It’s like he’s latched onto your soul. His timbre pulls you closer. And you realize you don’t feel so lost when he’s around.  

“Boss!”  

You lean back and look toward the sound, missing Morpheus’ eyes widening a fraction at Matthew’s interruption, too.  

“Boss! Death’s here.” Matthew lands in front of you.  

Your brow furrows, and your heart quickens. “Death’s here?”  

Why would Death be here? She wouldn’t come to the Dreaming if she didn’t have a good reason.  

What if she’s working? What if you aren’t improving and the Dreaming is masking your worsening condition?  

Morpheus tilts his head slightly, sensing your tension. He puts the pieces together quickly as he stands. 

“I requested she come.” He turns to you, voice tender, reassuring. “I wished to spend time with her.”  

—  

You haven't seen Death since you arrived.  

She and Morpheus urged you to stay even though you wanted to give them privacy. You forgot what it was like to have friends—to be close to others. It was nice.  

Then she whisked you away, telling Morpheus it was “girl time.”  

You’re strolling on one of the paths: one that extends as long as you can walk and leads to wherever you wish.  

You’ve had enough time to think about that day, your limitations, Death’s, what Warrens did to you…  

“You knew I’d be there,” you say.  

Neither of you stop walking. It’s not a surprise that you’ve brought this up.  

“That’s why you were surprised. Not because I had a vision of Morpheus, but because I was supposed to be there all along—because I was supposed to die—and you couldn’t interfere.”  

She grimaces. “I’m sorry.”  

You let out a breathy laugh. “I should be used to all the secrecy, but I’m not.” You pause. “And yet, I get it. Price of power and all that, I guess.”  

Now, she halts. “I know this won’t bring you comfort, but your being alive is a miracle.”  

“Then how am I…”  

“I don’t know. And that’s not something I say often,” Death says. “I can only speculate, but the day Destiny came to you—before that, he came to me and asked I keep you here. I didn’t ask why, but maybe this was meant to happen. You were the only one who could save my brother.”  

You shake your head. “I still don’t understand. Why give me this power at all? Why not just put me on the path so I could save Morpheus at the end? And how could you see my murder if you made that promise?”  

“Not even I am sure of that.” She answers your last question. “But: Is that not what Destiny did? Put you on that very path?” She pauses, then softly. “And gave you a purpose. One bigger than anyone should have, but a purpose nonetheless.”  

That thought runs around your head. 

Did Destiny do that? 

It's hard to imagine that being the reason. But why else would he— 

“Do you…Do you think Destiny gave me this power so I would survive?”  

You aren’t sure that makes sense. 

You. Out of everyone that could make a difference in the world, Destiny chose you.  

Death shrugs. “Again, I can’t be certain. But think about it, it brought you to Hob, to me," she gives you a knowing look, "to Dream.” 

You roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that I hated Morpheus for the longest time.”  

“Need I remind you that was in the past tense.” She grins.  

“So, you’re saying it’s harder to kill me than I originally thought,” you say, trying to change the subject.  

“None of that,” she tuts. “Even though it’s not under the best circumstances, I am happy you and Morpheus are getting to know one another.”  

You hum. “I spent so long not knowing what to feel for him—having all of these unanswered questions—it’s strange…to finally have that behind me.” You pause. “I enjoy his company.”  

“I would’ve used a stronger word than that,” she says, grinning cheekily. 

The tiny smiles Morpheus sent you and the glances you threw him could’ve made her squeal if she was the type.  

“Okay,” you wave her off, “enough.”  

She puts her hands up, yielding.  

You hesitate before telling her this next part.  

“I think—No, I know my visions are returning.”  

“That’s great!” She grabs your arm. “...Isn’t it?”  

“It’s just…They aren’t back yet. They’re not full visions. And I don’t know what that means. Or how long I’ll be like this.” You gesture to yourself.  

She smiles empathetically. “It means you’re getting better. I can only imagine how frustrating it’s been, but you are healing.”  

You nod. She’s right.  

She slips her arm into yours. “Now, let me tell you all the embarrassing stories about my brother.”  

You throw your head back and laugh.  

—  

It’s been a few days since then, you think. You and Morpheus have spent most of your time together. He’s become someone you care for deeply, and you wonder if he feels the same.  

You think he does when he pulls out your chair or helps you cross a stream. He’s interested in your life besides your visions. And when you told him about your family and loved ones throughout the years, he placed his hand atop yours. You could still feel it sometimes.  

You’re both in the library. A rare occurrence of rest brought Morpheus to curl up with you on the plush sofa. Well, you curled up. Morpheus has his feet on the floor but is leaning into the cushions.  

“I’ll have read everything in here by the time I wake up,” you joke, flipping your page.  

“I can feel your bouts of power when they rise. It will not be long now.”  

He always speaks so assuredly when it’s about your healing. His steadfastness has rubbed off on you. You aren’t so pessimistic about it anymore.  

You don’t notice you’re staring at him until he asks if something’s wrong.  

You shake your head. “No. I just don’t know what I would’ve done all this time if you weren’t here.”  

He faces forward, not staring at anything, and silence settles over you. The atmosphere shifts, and you can almost feel the tension coming from him.  

“There is no universe where I would have been elsewhere,” he says, as still as ever.  

And it’s his seriousness that makes you drop your light tone and scoot closer.  

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You glance at your fingers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”  

“You haven’t.” He rests his hand on yours. “But know that you are my priority, and I am happy to have been by your side.”  

“Morpheus…” you lock eyes, “we’ve been over this. I hate that you feel obligated to help me.”  

His brows twitch inward. “I feel no such compulsions. I am grateful you saved my life, but I can never repay such sacrifice.” He pauses. “Your wellbeing is my concern as your…friend.”  

His thumb brushes your cheekbone as he searches your eyes.  

You pull your lips into a thin line, hoping he can’t feel the heat in your cheeks. “Just know that I wouldn’t change what I did. I wanted to save you—I needed to.”  

“You didn’t—”  

“I did!” You say almost desperately. “You’re the only connection I have to my past. You’re the only one who knows who I was. I can’t lose you…”  

You’re afraid to look him in the eye, but he lifts your chin with a slightly hooked finger, tenderness in his gaze.  

“You won’t.”  

He pulls his hand away, and you realize how much closer you both have gotten.  

“You can’t promise that, though,” you whisper.  

“No. I cannot. But I can promise that ritual is gone.”  

You clench your jaw. “That won’t stop me from worrying.”  

“Then you know how I feel.”  

He says it like a joke—mirthful—a tone that’s both strange and welcome in him.  

You roll your eyes halfheartedly. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”  

“I will stop worrying when you’re awake,” he says. “Until then, I will watch over you.”  

A slight shiver runs down your spine. Morpheus' entire focus on you always makes you a little weak, but hearing him say those words? They almost send your knees buckling.  

“I don’t understand. Why have you been so insistent about this?”  

Something seems to settle in his eyes, his head tipping closer.  

“When you were writhing in pain—screaming—something came over me that hasn’t in a long while.”  

You tilt your head, waiting.  

“Fear.”  

“What?” you whisper.  

The back of his fingers grazes your cheek, lingering, caressing.  

“I feared I would lose you.” He’s searching you, analyzing every twitch and passing emotion.  

“Morpheus,” you start, “what are you saying?”  

The corner of his lips lift briefly.  

“You’ve become important to me,” he breathes. “My prophetess.”  

His lips are so close to yours. A moment more, and they’d touch. But as much as you want this, you stop him.  

“I don’t want our first kiss to be when I’m dreaming,” you say. “I want it to feel real because…you’ve become important to me, too.”  

Softly, he rests his forehead against yours.  

“I will wait as long as I must. Knowing you feel the same is enough.”  

—  

Your dizziness has been nonexistent these past couple of weeks. You’ve been able to help Lucienne in the library much more. However, this morning, if you could even call it that in the Dreaming—it’s like you’ve been getting hit from all sides.  

A breeze on your cheek while you were indoors.  

A shimmering red when you paged through a book.  

And whispered words of “regret this” and mumblings you couldn’t decipher.  

But this is your strongest one yet.  

It’s not images or scents, not even a noise, but an expansive, all-encompassing feeling blooming within your chest. You swear you’ll burst when Lucienne sees you steadying yourself against a table.  

She says your name. “Are you alright?”  

The feeling keeps getting bigger and bigger, and then Lucienne seems so far away, then the entire library. And you realize it’s time.  

“I think…I think I’m waking up.”  

A moment after you spoke, it feels like you're falling backward.  

Your eyes open with a quick inhale, and you look around.  

You’re in a bed, and everything feels so much more tangible. There are soft sheets, a comforting breeze from the open window, and that unmistakable feeling of something new beginning.  

You slowly rise, but where you thought there would be soreness, none comes.  

You've healed.  

You laugh in disbelief, running out of the room and to the one person you need to see.  

He’s creating dreams, something you’d usually take a moment to marvel at, but you can’t seem to give a damn.  

He glances over his shoulder, lips ticking up when he sees you.  

He’s about to speak. Then, his eyebrows twitch downward when you don’t stop walking, and you barely contain your smile before you kiss him.  

It takes him no more than a moment to grip your waist and pull you closer. To feel him like this instead of those phantom pressures, it's indescribable.   

You reluctantly retreat, and he stares at you with this kind of awe, tracing the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his features brighter than you’ve ever seen.   

“How are you feeling?” he asks.   

You take a moment before answering. “I’m okay. Everything feels…stronger now.” You give him a small smile. “Real.”  

“Not many have visited the Dreaming as you are,” he says. “If you’re overwhelmed, please tell me.”  

You shake your head fondly. “Not overwhelmed, just…happy.”  

“I am glad.”  

Your hands rest on his chest as you stare at him, too thrilled to care that maybe you should say something. But all you want to do is look at him—feel him now that you’re back in your body.  

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.  

He’s gripping your hips, the lightest of touches, yet it almost burns you in the best way possible. His thumb grazes one side, grabbing your attention. Like he knows you’re daydreaming. 

“I must give you something,” he says.  

He reaches within his coat, and in his palm is a gold band embedded with a ruby, a piece of Morpheus’ Dreamstone.  

“Stay with me,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “Come and go as you please, but always return. To your home.” He pauses. “To me.”  

You stare at him, eyes wide with wonder and glistening.  

“Yes,” you breathe, beaming.  

He strokes your cheekbone with his thumb before cupping it fully and slotting his lips between yours.  

You giggle. “I have to say I really didn’t see this coming.”  

If Morpheus was one to roll his eyes, he would have.  

“Do not make me regret this.”  

The lit in his voice pulls a playful gasp from you.  

“It’s too late. You can’t change your mind,” you say, eyes alight.  

His warm smile sends gooseflesh up your arms.  

“Never,” he whispers.  

Destiny has strange ways of working, but after centuries of unanswered questions, you finally think you understand why he chose you.  

Maybe the eldest Endless has a softer spot for his younger brother than any of you realize.

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @under-kitty

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 24

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“He asked me to move in with him.” I couldn't keep the word vomit from leaving my mouth as I settled into a little booth across from Tori with a coffee between my hands.

Her eyebrows seemed to raise about three inches and she didn't say anything at first.

“It's crazy, I know.” I shook my head.

“How long have you been with him?”

“A month.” I made a face.

“Does he, like, ejaculate gold coins or something?” Tori asked, laughing as she spoke.

I laughed with her and shook my head, looking down. “I don't know. I've never been like this. He's just got this way about him.”

“What's his house like?”

A small smile crept onto my face and she cut in before I could answer.

“He's rich, isn't he?”

“He lives in this, like, mini castle.”

“A castle?”

“Well, that's what it looks like. It's really cool.”

“Okay, so my suspicions are correct.”

I swallowed hard, eager to hear her theories. “What suspicions?”

“He ejacs gold coins.”

I laughed again, actually pleased she hadn't said something serious. I wasn't in the mood for sinister scenarios that would only heighten my internal anxiety over the situation.

“I don't even care about the house or whatever. I just.. I'm falling way too fast for this guy.” My eyes met here across the table. “Do you think I'm crazy?”

Tori gave a half smile and a shrug. “A little.” She smiled fully and sipped her coffee. “It is a little fast.”

“It's very fast.”

“Okay, it's very fast,” she agreed. “But, it's your call. What's your gut telling you? I'd ask what your heart’s telling you but I'm pretty sure I already know that. And the heart can be misleading.” Tori motioned to me with her drink as she emphasized the last part.

“Yeah.” I sighed and reached into a small paper bag for the muffin I’d ordered with my coffee.

“Well, how about this?” Tori went on when I broke off a piece of the muffin top. “If things work out with Mr. “Joel Gold Coins”,” she used her fingers to do the air quotes and I snickered, “Then I better be the maid of honor. And if it ends up not being what you thought, then there's always a room for you at 355 Ellie Drive.”

I looked toward my friend and let out another exhale through my nose. She was so understanding and not judgmental. I had disappeared off the face of the earth for a month since meeting Dr. Miller and she never questioned a thing.

“I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend,” I started but she reached for my hand and wagged a finger.

“You haven't been a bad friend,” she disagreed. “We’re at pivotal points in our lives. And I guess the lucky part is that we've kind of both found the same thing in the same time frame.” Tori shrugged, “It happens. We’re.. growing up.”

I smiled, “Adulting?”

“Ugh, you know I hate that word.”

I laughed and then sighed again with a more serious expression. “Thank you, Tori.”

“You're welcome.”

“I mean it. Thank you.” I sipped my coffee again. “Now, I'm done making this all about me. Tell me about Derek.”

My friend bit her bottom lip and spilled all the recent tea about her beau. I knew Derek. I liked him. The fact that he would be there with her full time took away some of the guilt I was experiencing. Tori appeared excited and happy and light as air. Getting a chance to sit and talk was rejuvenating. As much as I enjoyed the intensity of my time with Dr. Miller, I appreciated the lighthearted feeling I had being in Tori’s company.

“Once a week,” my friend pointed at me as we finally left the little coffee shop, “And that's nonnegotiable.”

“Once a week. And I'll be back soon to get my clothes and stuff.” I nodded and we exchanged a hug. “I'm going to head into LL Bean,” I said motioning to the store a few doors down on the little street.

“I have to go to work or I'd gladly spend a good hundred bucks in there with you.”

“Okay, be safe. I miss you.”

Tori blew a kiss. “See you soon.”

I waved goodbye and headed into the store, mostly in search of a good pair of winter boots.

If I happen to walk out with a sweater or two, so be it, I thought internally with a smile. Or maybe a hat for our ski wedding weekend.

An older man greeted me with a friendly, “Hello,” from behind a cash register off to the left. I smiled and waved before making the trek up a flight of stairs to the second floor where I knew the women's shoe section was.

A rack of on-sale sweaters and shirts conveniently greeted me near the top of the stairs and I gave it a lengthy browse. A knee length blue and white sweater dress caught my eye and I draped it over my arm before moving on toward the shoes.

“(Y/N)?” A female voiced my name quietly and I turned my attention away from the wall of boots in front of me.

When I glanced over my left shoulder I froze. Christine, Dr. Miller’s ex-wife, had just exited the dressing room. She was dressed more casually than our first meeting, sporting jeans and a sweater with a winter hat.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” She asked, as if we were friends or acquaintances that hadn't seen one another for awhile.

“I'm fine.” I forced a smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” Christine smiled back and bluntly asked, “Are you still seeing Joel?”

I gave a little nod, hoping that would be the end of that. Of course it wasn't.

“Look, woman to woman,” she said, beginning to pace in my direction. “I don't want to see you get hurt the way I did. Just.. be careful. Joel has this charisma that can really be..” She took a few seconds as she searched for the correct word, “Blinding.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by that.” I didn't want to have this conversation. People broke up all the time and could easily list off the reasons why their former partner was terrible. It didn't mean those two people couldn't move on and find someone more compatible for them. Everyone has flaws.

“I fell for him,” Christine nodded and stared at me, “Fast. Hard.” She shook her head and maintained eye contact, “He has secrets, (Y/N).”

“Don't we all?” I tried to sound casual and glanced down at the sweater on my arm.

“Not these kind of secrets.”

“Well, what are these kind of secrets?” I asked.

Christine sighed, looking around as she did before finding my eyes again. “That's something I'll take to my grave.. but also something I couldn't live with.”

I wasn't typically one to speak up, but I couldn't help myself now. “So, woman to woman you came here to warn me, but you can't tell me about what? You just want me to be careful because of Joel's secrets but you won't tell me what those secrets are?” I shook my head, “If you were actually looking out for me, you'd tell me.” I wandered away from the boots section back toward the staircase.

“It's the least I can do,” Christine called out.

I took the stairs back to the bottom floor. All the life that Tori had breathed into me, Christine had sucked out. I was so taken aback that I almost walked out with the sweater without paying for it. Hell, I hadn't even tried it on.

I stopped myself before closing in on the door and made a hard right toward the register.

“Find everything you were looking for?” The old man asked with a friendly grin.

I wanted to match his cheeriness but I just couldn't. Still, I managed a smile. “Yes, thank you.” He scanned the tag, I swiped my card and then headed back out onto the street.

I was going to tell Dr. Miller about bumping into Christine. I wasn't about to accuse him of anything but I needed to at least ask what she was referring to. Of course he had secrets - or at least some unknowns he promised to tell in due time. As much as I needed to know, I wasn't going to bombard him simply because his ex-wife bombarded me.

She hated me, Dr. Miller had claimed. I was sure at least part of her approaching me had something to do with sabotaging him.

I shook my head and hurried across the street to an ATM. Having a little cash on me at all times was something my parents had always advised me to do, and it was a habit I'd carried into adulthood.

I looked around the immediate area and then back to the doors of LL Bean to see if Christine had come out. I wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible and cozy up by a warm fire, as Dr. Miller had promised.

As I slipped my card into the machine, I envisioned it for a moment, trying to push away the negative thoughts that had been bestowed upon me. It worked - sort of.

I punched in my four digit code and selected to remove sixty dollars. Again, I looked over my shoulder as the ATM worked its magic. When the screen instructed me to remove my card, I did just that and then tucked it away back into my purse.

The money dispensed and upon collecting it, I looked at the screen again. If it had been a cartoon I swear my eyes would have popped right out of my head.

This has to be a mistake. I looked at the balance. It was all wrong.

“What the hell?”

The receipt shot out next as the screen switched to a simple, THANK YOU, in bold letters. I ripped the receipt from its place and studied the numbers. The balance on the thin piece of white paper matched that of the balance on the screen.

This has to be a mistake.

As I stood in disbelief, staring at the fifty-seven thousand dollars that was now said to be in my account, my eyes glanced up and I saw Christine staring at me from across the street. I felt like she knew exactly what I was staring at on that money slip.

When she shook her head, I crumpled the paper and forced it into my coat pocket before rushing to my car and driving away from that quaint, little street in the center of town.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: How Can Nature Heal You? 🍃💎🐾

Hi everyone, I'm officially back from my long and crazy trip to the outdoors! If there's one thing I've learned from the trip, it's that yellowjacket stings are 10x itchier than mosquito bites!

And learned how to stay grounded.

Since the start of October, things have felt like a whirlwind, but knowing that I (eventually) get to come back and post some more feels strangely grounding. Right now, especially as winter approaches, it's important to find ways of keeping ourselves grounded. I don't know the exact astrology, or if it's just from eclipse season, but things feel topsy-turvy at this point in time.

So to make up for some lost time, I have decided to prepare three different PACs for you as we approach the full eclipse moon and end of the month. Here is my first of the three. I'll have something very different prepared for next week as well… perhaps a game or two? Stay tuned!

☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦

Try to find some moments out in nature, Autumn is calling. Take some time to head outside, even for just a few minutes, and find a natural focal point. When I went into the city to work, I'd find a rare bird who'd perch by a parking lot light just to say hello. Even rain puddles in asphalt may have something to say. Feel which way the wind is blowing. It's much easier to ground with natural focal points, and with camping they're everywhere, but surprises await you anywhere you are.

Nature can heal us all in different ways. While camping by the pond, I decided to create three piles to see how nature is able to help you when times get stressful. I consulted the sea, earth, and sky for these cards to find out new ways for you to refresh and recharge while outside. Please choose any one of the three pictures below for your reading: Origins, Reconnect, or Friends.

Pile 1:

Origins: Remember Your Roots; 46. Facing Your Fears, Service, Page of Swords, Tower, Nine of Cups

Nature heals you with its pleasing aromas. In the autumn breeze, the smell of fallen leaves can lift you away from the chaos surrounding you. Smell the crackling bonfire and listen to its ancient stories that have been carried through time. Let the old stories sustain you when the world feels like it's shaking.

The scents of nature have an immediate effect on you. Smell the hot cider from fresh tart apples, or the memories from the scarf your relative or ancestor left behind. Smell the dark October rain and the many chilly nights preceding the storm. Where does it take you? Do you let your lungs fill with the world's organic potpourri? Do you allow yourself the space to roam through the woods to find what you've never experienced before? Or give yourself the chance to reset your body through mindful breath as your worrisome thoughts are replaced with cool, misty serenity?

Take some time to name each thing you smell, perhaps in your journal. The more we are able to name what we smell or taste, the more we can establish a relationship with it, whether through hate or through love, brine or breeze. Welcome more fresh air into your life at this time. Breathe deeply in the smells of the changing seasons and infuse your affirmations with them, knowing that your intention will be carried away with the turbulent winds.

The lionfish is dangerous to many ecosystems through its invasiveness. Yet people have learned how to prepare lionfish as a meal. So now there are holidays dedicated to hunting these fish to reduce their effect on coral reefs. It says to you: "Look for ways to strengthen your connection to the Universe and others. Stay peaceful and calm in the knowing of who you are."

A necessity brought a community together for an important goal. You too have a place where your actions and desires are aligned with the universe; don't discount your capabilities just because things look too tough to tackle. When situations in your life seem out of control and overwhelming, take a step outside and connect to the smells of the woods, or an essential oil blend to safely diffuse in your room. I'm picking up on clove and cinnamon in particular but whatever blend works right for you.

Pile 2:

Reconnect: Secrets lurk in the captive shadows deep in the woods; 24. Love Where You Are, Bliss, Seven of Pentacles, Five of Swords, Six of Swords

Nature heals you with its deep underground connections. It lies dormant within layer upon layer of mineral, silicate, and pulsing soil. You can dig and dig for days because you've seen the glittering amethyst geode hiding beneath the surface of volcanic debris. You're adorned with the roots of a single glowing mushroom that splits in a thousand directions at the strike of lightning.

It seems as though there is no end to the digging, even when a dead end scrapes against your shovel. It may also feel like each direction you take on is limitless, stretching the roots as far as they can go. The desire to know and resolve tugs and pulls like a sprout emerging from seed. You're here to learn the mysteries of life, carve the revelation upon stone, and somehow hold them firmly in your hands. A pumpkin may not hold all the answers to our lives, it can make for a enjoyable pie with ice cream. And sometimes simple and pleasant things like that are all that's necessary in the time you have.

The earth calls you when you are in a fuss, when you can't see eye to eye with another. When things get tense, go for a walk. Imagine your roots traveling beneath the earth as a fish rides the deep currents. Remember there is always more going on outside the troubles of the everyday. All it may take is a morning in the garden, sifting through the dirt, and planting delicate seeds to clear your mind enough to make the next moves in your day.

Clams love the earth as well. They find a comfortable place on the ocean floor, slowly filtering sand and grit into incredible works of beauty. Each pearl forged is the result of a lifetime's worth of sustained effort. It says: "Use your sensitivity to know when to act. Connect your heart with your head when determining what you would like."

Sometimes, we can solve our problems by nagging over the details, but in other times, we must sit it out and let things unfold as they intend to. Sometimes it's best to settle matters rationally, but in other times emotional wisdom is required. Stay in touch with your roots in the present and move one muddy step after the other. Whatever the issue unfolding, let the earth heal you in the now.

Pile 3:

Friends: The most unlikely friendships can form; 16. Inner Desires, Family, Fool, Five of Wands, Tower

Nature heals you with its menagerie of connections with the feral world. A day where you learn about a new species is a jackpot; you bask in abundance through admiring the vast animal kingdom. There is magic to be found in the growth and decay of a beast. Joy emerges from its shells, which grows into a love that spreads its wings and flies west into eternal peace and infinite renewal.

In each paw print, you can see evolutionary fragments of your own. Hearing the birds call in liquid notes, you venture into the thicket in hopes of encountering a part of yourself once forgotten. Is it easier to relate to animal kind than it is to people? Even when their display is for tricks or camouflage, they will not misjudge or criticize against you for who you are. At the same time, each animal desires its own space in the wild in which it can't be disturbed. It can be difficult to leave behind a difficult situation at home to find anyone who will relate with you deep within the shadowy woods. But you are being called by the chipmunks and squirrels to carry your acorns to the next level, beyond the stress, and give yourself the chance to plant them in a more nurturing, caring land to thrive.

You are being asked to, as the birds and cattle do, migrate into a whole new feeding ground. You may be a fish that has grown too big for the pond and now must plunge into the waterfall, a snake ready to shed coiled skin, or a butterfly emerging from its cocoon into new heights. Are you in a transitional phase, like a job or school change, perhaps even a move? Wherever you end up in next, the resources and guidance you need will await you at the bottom of the pool. The place your heart seeks to go the most is where you'll find your unique calling for your next adventure.

This mollusc seems humble up front but carries a powerful and influential role; they are the creators of the cowrie shell. It has been seen to represent abundance, love, and connection to the ocean's splendors through the shells they leave behind. Many people around the world have used these shells as currency. It says: "Set your intentions. You are entering a phase of plenty or have a sudden windfall. Goals are within your grasp."

Transitions can always feel unsteady, but you have many helpful animal guides by your side. Even your pet can sense that change is in the air and wants to be there for you during moments of doubt and strife. And look out for the occasional ladybug, hare, or black cat as you map out your goals to prosperity and healthy social networks. The animal world trusts you to make the right decisions with its welfare in mind.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[norris-lando]

i'll still look at you like the stars that shine

Pierre Gasly x reader

based on the song Mary's Song (Oh my my my) by Taylor Swift

warnings: fighting

author's note: I hope you guys enjoy this :) And please, feel free to give me feedback if you want!

word count: 2.5k

she said i was 7 and you were 9, i looked at you like the stars that shined in the sky like pretty lights and our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love and our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes

"Do you promise? You have to promise!" Your voice was small and quivering as you looked up at your best friend.

It was a beautiful summer day and you were playing outside with Pierre, the two of you having been lifelong friends.

Your parents were outside with you, your fathers looking over at you, joking about how the two of you were going to grow up and find yourselves falling in love with one another. Your mom scoffed though there was a smile on her lips as she explained that you and Pierre were more like a brother and sister.

What no one of them saw, however, was how you looked at the older boy. Whatever it was he said or did, your eyes lit every time there was even a mention of his name. That's why, even now at the age of 7, you were determined to have Pierre promise he'd never forget about you.

He had said, as a joke, of course, that when he grew up, he was going to marry a girl from your neighborhood. Louise was older than you, the same age Pierre, who was 9, and you had always looked at her with adoring eyes. She was everything you hoped to be when you grew up. You always thought she was the prettiest girl in the whole block.

"Of course, I promise! You're always gonna be my best friend. I could never forget about you," Pierre told you as he gave you a hug.

You sniffled as you pushed your face into Pierre's chest. The boy was holding you tightly as he whispered in your ear again, "I could never forget my best friend."

take me back to the house in the backyard tree, said you'd beat me up you were bigger than me, you never did, you never did / take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried, just two kids, you and i

Pierre had been in a bad mood all morning and all day. Something had upset him and he refused to talk to anyone about it.

You had went over to his house, wanting to go outside with him to play but had found only his parents waiting for you. They told you Pierre had slumped over to your 'very own house' that you two had built with the help from your parents into a tree that sat in woods close by.

Thanking them, you skipped down the street and towards the house.

"Pierre," you called out as you got closer, "are you home?"

"Leave me alone," he yelled back but it didn't stop you.

You climbed up the ladder, careful not to slip or fall and made your way inside by moving the piece of cloth that hang as a makeshift door.

"What's wrong, Pierre?"

Your eyes were wide as you looked at the boy in front of you, wondering what it was that had gotten him in such a bad mood.

Huffing, Pierre looked at you with a sad look on his face. "Louise said she doesn't like me," he confessed.

You took your time, wondering what to say. You didn't want to say anything stupid so that Pierre wouldn't get mad at you next.

"Louise has always been really kind to me, why wouldn't she like you?" It hadn't really yet dawned on you what Pierre had meant. "I've seen her be kind to you as well," you tried.

"Argh, you don't get it." Pierre turned his back on you and you could hear he was sniffling quietly, wiping away something from his face.

That's when it hit you. He didn't mean Louise didn't like him as a friend but instead what he meant was that Louise didn't like-like him.

You racked your little brain trying to come up with a way to cheer your best friend. You could see he was really upset. And since you hadn't ever really experienced anything like that, it was hard for you to figure out how to console him.

"Well," you started and a giggle escaped your lips, "I know someone who likes you."

Pierre turned around to face you again, slowly. "Who?" His eyes were wide with wonder.

Another giggle came out as you started back away from your shared tree-house home. You quickly climbed down the steps leading up and you could hear Pierre call your name as he tried to run after you.

The two of you ended running around in circles, with you giggling and Pierre calling your name. Neither of you knew what you were even doing but Pierre noticed to be in a better mood and that was all you had really wanted.

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see but your eyes still shined like pretty lights, and our daddies used to joke about the two of us, they never believed we'd really fall in love and our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes

It had been a while since you had last seen Pierre. With summer break looming over you, you had been busy with summer jobs and spending time with your friends. On the other hand, Pierre had been spending a lot of time racing and training, traveling around.

But during the last week before you were to go to back to school, your paths crossed unexpectedly.

You had been out with friends and were on your way home, walking down the street where you and Pierre grew up when a voice called out to you.

"Y/n?"

It was Pierre. You hadn't seen him as you walked by but he had been standing on the front porch of his house. He was running after you now, trying to catch up to you. With squinted eyes, you tried to make out the figure, to see who it was.

Suddenly, Pierre was standing in front of you and your eyes lit up the same way they did when you were younger. A warm feeling settling in your chest as you looked at your best friend. You had missed him but hadn't found a way to connect during the summer.

"Pierre," you said and jumped in his arms. It felt like you had never been apart. "I missed you."

Humming, Pierre agreed with what you had just said.

"You didn't see me back there?" He asked as he let you go from his embrace.

You shook your head, "sorry, I guess I'm just so tired, I must have spaced out or something."

"Yeah," he laughed, "you were always like that."

You gave him a push on the shoulder and a fake pout. "I was not," you argued back but ended up laughing along side Pierre.

"So," you continued, "how have you been? Tell me everything."

The two of you walked down the street. Pierre had his arm slung over your shoulder and you leaned into him. It brought back so many memories from your shared childhood as you listened to him tell you about his life.

You had never admitted it after that one time at the tree house but your feelings for Pierre had grown into something more than just that of two best friends. And as you were nearing your childhood home, you wondered if it was finally time to tell how you really felt.

Something made you decide against it, however, keeping your feelings still a safeguarded secret.

The front door to your childhood home seemed somehow bigger than usually and it appeared as if out of nowhere as the two of you suddenly stood in front of it. Pierre was still talking, telling you about his life but you just couldn't bring yourself to focus on his words. Your mind was stuck on the thought of his lips on yours.

"Y/n?" Pierre's eyes were piercing as he looked at you, "everything okay?"

Blush crept on to your cheeks and you shied away from your best friend's glance. You turned to face away from him, not wanting to look at him.

"I like you," you blurted out. You had no time to stop yourself before the words the came out. Embarrased, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me—" There was a rush in your voice as you finally turned to face Pierre again.

A sly smile appeared on his face when he saw how nervous you were and the look he gave you didn't help. There were butterflies in your stomach but at the same time it felt like you were going to throw up. That was the last thing you wanted so you prayed the situation would come to end one way of another as soon as possible.

But something you hadn't expected happened. Pierre leaned in, cupping your face in his hands, stopping you from backing away before you could even think about escaping the moment at hand. His lips came into contact with yours and you gave into the feeling that came along with it. That was the first real kiss the two of you had ever shared.

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two a.m. riding in your truck and all i need is you next to me, take me back to the time we had our very first fight, the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight, you stayed outside till the morning light

You didn't even really remember anymore what the fight was about. All you could focus on was the fact that your head was pounding with anger. You could picture your face - it was probably red and steam was coming out of your ears, like in those old children's cartoons.

Doors were being slammed, spiteful words were being exchanged by both you and Pierre. The home you two had built over the years of being together had turned into a battleground and the two of you were on the opposite sides, planning and plotting your next moves.

The night had started off nice and quiet. You and Pierre had gone on a date. You had dinner at a nice restaurant and with the evening nearing its end, you had decided to go walk around town for a bit before heading home. But something had sparked up a heated conversation between the two of you, which only continued on even after you got home.

"You're unbelievable!" Your voice bounced off the walls as the screams got louder and louder with each breath you took and the anger you felt wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"I'm unbelievable," Pierre yelled back, laughing and scoffing. "You're the one who started this whole over something ridiculous."

It was your turn to scoff. "Oh, so I started this, huh?" You looked around as if for an answer before you picked up a blanket of the couch along with a pillow and threw them at Pierre.

"Fine, then I'll be the one to finish this too," you said and crossed your arms in front of your chest, "you can sleep in the car tonight."

Maybe you took it a little too far but you there was no stopping you once you got started. Besides, a little time off was all you both needed right now, you were sure of it. Pierre would probably come crawling next to you in no time, you thought as you watched him slam the front door behind him.

You stood silent in the hallway for a moment before you sulked upstairs to your shared bedroom. And, as you had a flare for the dramatic, you slammed the door after you as well.

The bed felt empty when you were laying there alone but soon enough as you closed your eyes you fell asleep. And when morning came, you woke up to Pierre asleep next to you. You had no idea when he had come back in but you were happy to see he was by your side at last.

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee, take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said i do and i did too

As you looked at Pierre with tears of happiness glistening in the corners of your eyes, you couldn't have felt happier. Pierre was on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in his hands.

"Y/n," he started but had to stop for moment to choke the sob that was attempting to escape. "You've been my best friend since the day we were little kids and I laid my eyes on your for the first. You've been my rock through thick and thin and I don't know if I could gotten this far in life if you hadn't been there for me every step of the way."

"So," Pierre's voice was beginning to tremble as he finally let the words out, "will you please accept this ring and be my best friend and my wife for the rest of our lives?"

"Oh, Pierre," you said as you kneeled down to his level, pulling him in your arms for a hug, "of course."

A sigh of relief came out when Pierre heard you say yes. He tightened his grip on you before he pulled away from just enough to plant a kiss on your lips.

take me home where we met so many years before, we'll rock our babies on that very front porch after all this time, you and i / i'll be eighty-seven; you'll be eighty-nine, i'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky, oh my my my

It was a beautiful summer evening, years later as you and Pierre stood on the back porch of what once was your childhood home. The yard was filled with laughter and chatter as your children ran around in circles with the neighbor's kids.

You felt two hands sneak around your waist and pull you close. The warmth from Pierre's chest radiating against yours as you rested your head, allowing it to fall on the soft fabric of Pierre's shirt. He hummed in your hair and gave you a small peck.

You had to admit that if someone had told you that one day you'd fall in love with the boy from your neighborhood, grow up, marry him and end up having kids with him, you probably wouldn't have believed a word coming out of that persons mouth. But here you were, standing on that very back porch that you stood on so many years before when you first saw Pierre, the man you now called your husband and the father of your children.

There were many twists and turns in your life that lead to this moment, but there was nothing that you would have done differently.

[multi-writer]

The Lonely Princess and The Nerd Knight Pt.1

Eddie Munson x Rich! Reader

The Lonely Princess and The Nerd Knight Pt.2

Summary: It's the first time you go to school after being homeschooled and your mother allowed you to, but it doesn't turn out the way you expected.

Author´s note: I've had this idea for so long that when I wrote it I couldn't stop, so I ended up with 9 pages and over 3k words for this first part alone. to be honest, I didn't think Tumblr would let me post it because of the word limit.

Warnings: bad words, fluff to angst, Eddie deserves the world, I was shaking while writing this because of the amount of fluff and the amount of angst. I hope you like it!

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Your mother was the one who decided to move to an unknown place after your father had to stay working in Washington ‘perks of being a senator’ you always thought. Your father was from a family with a lot of money, while your mother was a working woman who was not accepted by your father's family. Because of this, your mother gave up her dream job so that your father's parents, your grandparents, would agree to help both your parents and you get the best life.

Thanks to this you knew how to play instruments, played several sports, spoke several languages and loved to read. However, being homeschooled, you didn't know much about socializing with people your own age, so your mother, having more freedom being at Hawkins without your father, decided to enroll you in high school for your senior year so you could live a normal year.

But she didn't think about the problems this could bring. Many students knew who you were and talked about you behind your back, especially since you didn't know exactly how to befriend them. Every day your mom bring you to school in a nice car, your clothes were always impeccable, your hair well-done and your make-up pretty and subtle. To the whole school you were untouchable, the perfect girl who never spoke and who was in the library every afternoon until you were picked up.

In the beginning, the basketball guys and cheerleader tried to invite you to different places but you didn't understand their definition of fun. "Come on! It's a party near the woods! There will be lots of alcohol and no adults!" said one of the girls as she played with her hair.

"What for?" you asked seriously. "It doesn't make sense to go to a place to drink and the next day you feel bad because of the headaches and dizziness they give" You continued confused causing the girls to look at each other to laugh and then turn their backs on you and leave, something you found really rude. Only one girl with her green uniform and copper hair stayed with you a little longer.

"It's okay if you don't want to go. You're still new in town and you'll find something you like" she offered you a gentle smile. "I like your sweater."

"Chrissy! Leave her alone!" the girls in the distance shouted making 'Chrissy' turn to look at them for a moment and then see you again.

"I have to go, but I'll see you later!" the girl said as she waved her hand in farewell. You, stunned by what had just happened, returned the gesture, then turned around to leave the school, where you found several boys chatting.

"Have you seen the new girl?" asked one of the guys. None of them had noticed you were nearby. "She's the daughter of someone important. I hear she has a lot of money."

"Forget the money, she has beautiful legs, can you imagine touching them?" replied another making the rest of them laugh.

"And let's not talk about her chest..." that's when you decided to move on to the car where they were already waiting to take you home.

Inside the car, your eyes filled with tears from the frustration you had inside. All your life you dreamed of going to some school where you could make friends and have a normal teenage life, but experiencing this in your first days at a normal school made you feel worse than you had imagined. It was as if everything you had been looking forward to was crumbling in front of you. Now you would have to spend your senior year like this.

"How did it go honey?" your mother asked from the seat in front of the wheel. You had never seen her drive a car before, apparently being away from your father and from stares that are criticizing her every move made her feel free.

"Hard mom, but tomorrow will be a new day" you said monotonously swallowing your feelings. Being here would do you both good. Or so you tried to convince yourself.

From that moment on you decided not to get involved with anyone at school, everyone knew your story and your economic status, you would not doubt that many would be interested in you just because of that, they would even take advantage of it. Days turned into weeks, and then into months. You simply focused on your studies and on not relating to people who would bring you nothing in life. Thanks to this, many people stopped laughing at you and began to treat you with respect when they saw that you were not going to fall into their game.

"You look beautiful babe" said a boy as he licked his lips. You just stood there, staring at him without any expression until the boy got uncomfortable and walked away with his friends as they talked about you. "She's a heartless fucking bitch" the boy said as the rest of his friends nodded. You watched him for a few seconds then turned around and continued walking to the cafeteria.

Inside you went straight to the table where you would sit alone until a couple of guys interrupted your path. Jason, the basketball captain, was chest to chest against Eddie Munson, the leader of the D&D club. Jason, seeing you standing in front of them pushed Eddie out of your way and then went to the table where his team was. His face red with anger. When you turned to look at Eddie, you saw that the boy lowered his head slightly and made a gesture with his hands as a sign for you to walk past him.

"After you, princess." Said the long haired guy, then turned and walked away to where his friends were. He didn't give you another look.

The rest of the day passed without anything else interesting. Classes continued as they usually are and you couldn't wait to get out of there. The last bell rang making everyone get up quickly to leave. You took your time as you packed your things in your backpack and then got up and walked out. The hallways were full of teenagers talking to their friends, some of them looked at you as if they were analyzing you while others didn't give you a second thought. In your locker you left some of your books that you didn't need to take out others that were for homework. Your gaze fell on your copy of "To Kill a Mockingbird" that your mother had secretly given you, you looked both ways and decided to put that book in your backpack as well, closing it quickly and then slamming your locker shut and leaving the school.

You weren't planning to go to the library that time, it was Friday so you decided to clear your mind with something else. In front of the school was a forest so you didn't hesitate to go for a walk in it. The only noise was the trees moving thanks to wind and the leaves rustling under your footsteps, the walk was relaxing, as if you could finally be free in a world where everyone's eyes are on you. It didn't take you long until you came across a picnic table in the middle of the forest, the place looked strange to you so you decided to approach to look at it, seeing that no one was coming, you put your backpack on the table to sit down and take out your book. The place was perfect for reading without interruptions. Or so you thought until a noise made you turn quickly.

Eddie Munson held up his hands as a sign that he wouldn't do anything bad to you as he made you jump with fright. His eyes were full of surprise to see you in the place where he always went to sell drugs to high school kids looking for a good time.

"Easy princess, I won't do anything to you" he commented as he slowly approached, seeing that you weren't going to leave, he sat down across from you. You just looked at him. "To Kiil a Mockingbird? Apparently the princess isn't so innocent after all, you know it's illegal to read that kind of book right?" he said with a smile.

You just looked at him for a few seconds and then closed the book and put it on your lap. "There's a reason I read it in a place away from people, Munson" You said looking him up and down seeing how his eyes widened more when he saw that you located him. "Or so I thought" you finished sarcastically making the boy let out a silent laugh.

"How do you know my name?" he asked as he clasped his hands together on the table.

"Everyone knows who you are, you're not someone who goes unnoticed" you replied as you equally placed your hands on the table, mimicking him. He just stared at you for a moment and then clasped his hands over his heart and fell backwards as if you had shot an arrow to his heart, when he got up he had leaves in his hair, shoulders and back.

"The town's princess knows who I am" he said as he paced back and forth dramatically making you raise the corner of your lips forming a small smile caused by his actions. "And she has also smiled in my presence! I have definitely been blessed today" he stretched out his arms making you shake your head as you looked down hiding your smile that was getting bigger and bigger.

"You're crazy" you said as you watched him smiling. The man shook the leaves off his body and walked back to the table to sit back down across from you. "I'm (y/n), by the way" you extended your hand. The boy shook it in greeting.

"I know, everyone knows who you are." He said smiling. You returned your hand to join the other one on your legs. Your smile disappeared making Eddie worry in case he had said something to offend you.

"I don't think I´m known by the best way" you replied seriously, a tone of sadness in your voice that Eddie could pick up on. The man just shrugged.

"People in this town are assholes, don't pay any attention to them, especially the ones at school." Eddie said.

"Easy to say when you have friends to hang out with instead of spending your school year in the library studying every day" You mentioned with a sad grimace, your hands crossed to play with your fingers as a sign of nervousness. Eddie stood up and climbed on the seat putting his right leg on the table surprising you. The man brought his hand in front of you as a sign for you to take it.

"I'll be your friend and knight so you'll never have to spend the rest of the year locked in the school library again. Deal?" he smiled, you looked at his hand for a few seconds and then back at him. Your heart was beating fast as you looked into his sincere eyes. You smiled again making the long hair man smile back and with all the happiness you could contain you took his hand as you stood up and stood on the seat as well. There you gave a small bow and then looked into his shining eyes.

"Done, oh Munson The Great" You replied making the guy let out a laugh.

From that day on they began to meet every day at the table surrounded by the forest to talk about everything. Sometimes you laughed about other students, Eddie explained how to play D&D, other times you talked about your favorite books while Eddie listened to you attentively without taking his eyes off you as if he was studying you, you even talked about the future. Eddie was the person who made you wake up happily and excited to go to school making your mother happy because you were already living a normal teenage life. Sometimes between classes or at lunch you would throw glances and smiles at each other making Eddie´s D&D club friends look at him funny. But no matter what the day was like, you never missed your meetings in the woods.

"I can't wait to graduate" Eddie commented as he stretched, both of you lying on the ground regardless of getting dirty. "I want to get out of this town and play guitar in the best places in the world. Fuck this place and its people."

"Even me?" you asked with a smirk.

"You know I'm talking about everyone but you princess" he said as he put his hand on your hair ruining your perfect ponytail, you pushed his hand away as you laughed. "You? what do you want to do after graduation?" his question made you sigh.

"At the moment I don't have anything planned besides college... oh!" the man jumped in surprise. "I want a house surrounded by the woods, a quiet place where I can spend the rest of my years with the love of my life, without the worry of what others might think."

"Anything else?" he asked with a smile staring at you.

"Yes! A place where I can read without being interrupted" You finished smiling, turning to look at him you realized the man was still admiring you.

"Even I can't interrupt you?" He teased you.

"Only you have the permission to interrupt me" you smiled as you blushed a little.

"Even… when it's a book you don't want to stop reading?" he raised an eyebrow. You nodded.

"Even when it's the best book in the world Munson." The man sighed and you were both quiet for a few minutes, until Eddie jumped to his feet and then pulled out a notebook and pen.

"Well, I think it's time to create your own D&D character" he said as he started writing your name in his notebook making you laugh.

"You have to help me, remember I'm not an expert" you said as you stood up to walk over to him. You shook out your pants to remove any dirt residue and rubbed your arms a little to keep warm, the winter cold was already approaching.

"I say an elf princess would be perfect on you" he looked at you for a few seconds with a smile then continued writing in his notebook. "You must have to use a bow and have experience and strength, I don't want you to die in the first round" he muttered making you let out a laugh.

"No doubt I'll die in the first fight of the game." You commented to him as you removed a leaf that was in his hair, after you took it from his hair you sat down next to him to admire him as he continued to write. You were both silent until you decided to speak. "Can I tell you a secret?" you said nervously, making the boy look at you expectantly. "But you can't tell anyone!" Eddie nodded even silently to let you speak. "All my knowledge about social relationships and love relationships I've gained are from literature, that's why I have a hard time making conversation with other people. You are my first and only friend Munson" You looked at your hands which were shaking, it wasn't the deepest secret in the world but it was one that made you nervous to tell since it wasn't something normal for an 18 year old girl. Eddie, noticing your action, took your hands causing you to look at him, his eyes were shining in a way you had never seen before.

"You're not alone anymore (y/n)" Those five words made you let out air and your shoulders dropped, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The man hugged you tightly to calm your nerves.

As he pulled away you could see him bite his lip for a moment then sigh and reach into his backpack. His tongue flicked out between his lips for a moment as he concentrated on looking for something, sign he commonly did when he was nervous or he was thinking abut something. You realized he had found what he was looking for when he opened his eyes wider than usual and smiled again.

"Hold out your hands and close your eyes" he commented as he held the object with both hands so you couldn't see what he was holding. You tightly closed your eyes as you held out both hands. Eddie, seeing that you couldn't see, slowly put the object in your hands, as you felt his warm hands on yours your smile grew bigger and your heart raced in your chest. The object he had placed was not heavy and was small "Okay, you can open your eyes."

As you opened them you noticed a small twenty-sided die of your favorite color with gold accents. The man scratched the back of his neck nervously as he watched you look at the small gift.

"I know it's not much compared to what you would normally have but I saw it and thought of you" he commented as he avoided your gaze. You shifted your gaze from the die to him and what you did surprised him. Your arms went around his neck and you hugged him tightly, the die still in your hands.

"This is the best thing I've ever been given in my life. Thank you so much" you whispered in his ear as you slowly felt his hands wrap around your waist, you both stayed like that for a long time.

The weeks went by without any news. Everyone went out for the winter holidays. Your mother decided that you had to spend the holidays with your father so you had to travel to Washington. Thanks to this, you and Eddie talked only on the phone. The two of you could spend hours talking about anything, you would talk about how the vacations were with your family while he would say he went to the table in the woods every day so 'it wouldn't be lonely while you were in Washington' bringing a smile to your face on the other end of the phone.

In January, you begged your mother to go back to Hawkins earlier because you wanted to see Eddie before school, which she agreed to when she saw how happy you were at the town. You hadn't told Eddie anything since it would be a surprise. The drive back took forever. It was a week before you had to go back to school, so you wanted to make the most of it with your friend.

When you arrived, the first thing you did was to wrap up warmer because the cold weather in Hawkins was worst than in Washington, then you said goodbye to your mother to leave almost running to the forest. When you were in front of the path you already knew, you started to go slowly, hoping not to make any noise to surprise him. However, the laughter of a girl and the voice of a boy stopped you, when you listened to them more carefully you realized that the voice belonged to Eddie. You continued to slowly approach to find him sitting with a girl with their back to you, as you listened to part of their conversation you froze in shock.

"Can you believe she's so obsessed with her books" Eddie said laughing softly. The girl laughed louder as she rested her hand on Eddie's shoulder, there you could recognize that she was one of the cheerleaders you had met the first day.

"It's normal, she was raised that way" Chrissy replied trying to make Eddie understand.

"I don't know, it's just weird" answered the long hair man.

His comment caused a pressure in your chest as tears filled your eyes, you slowly walked away so they wouldn't hear you trying to get back to your house as fast as you could. You couldn't believe that your only friend was just like the others. When you got home, you went to your room and cried. Your mom went to talk to you, trying to help you by talking to you, but nothing could fix your broken heart. Everything had gone back to the way it was before you met Eddie.

The last week of vacation you spend it in your room. Your mother would come in a few times to tell you that Eddie had been calling you at your father's house, remembering that you hadn't told him you were back. The days went by faster than you wanted them to, so you already had to go to school. On Monday you decided to ignore him all day, you didn't look at him and you didn't go to the table in the forest, making the man look at you surprised by your attitude, you were back to being the girl who didn't express her feelings like before.

On Tuesday Eddie was trying to get close to you but you did your best not to talk to him, making Eddie look at you sadly, however, he didn't give up so he decided to skip his last class to stay in your locker so he could talk to you. The final bell rang causing you to run out of the classroom, something you didn't do before. Seeing him leaning against your locker you rolled your eyes as you let out an angry sigh. The boy quickly approached you.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked worriedly. "Everything okay with your parents?"

You turned to look away trying to evade him so he wouldn't see your teary eyes, but your attempts were in vain when he grabbed your shoulders gently to make you look at him. You moved forcefully to get away from him surprising him. All around you students were leaving to go home.

"I don't want to see you Munson" you said dryly making him freeze in place.

"What did I do?" seeing you try to walk away he stepped in front of you. "Hey, you know you can tell me anything" This caused you to get even angrier.

"Really?!" the students still in the hallway stared at you. "For what?! Just so you can go behind my back and tell others everything I´ve told you?!" you said almost shouting causing Eddie to throw his hands up in the air like he did the first time he met you. You couldn't recognize your voice.

"What are you talking about?" he asked confused.

"Now you're going to play dumb?!" your body was shaking with anger. If you kept standing there you knew you were going to say something you were going to regret.

"Hey I don't know what you mean!" he replied already frustrated with the way you were talking to him and because he didn't understand anything that was going on or what had made you so angry. He had never seen you be like this so he became even more worried. "Come on, let's talk it over like civilized people." Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders again causing you to finally explode.

"Don't touch me freak!" you shouted without thinking as you took his hands off of you. The moment you realized what you had said you put your hands over your mouth in surprise trying to hold back a gasp. Eddie's hands fell to his side looking at you with sadness and disappointment at what you had said. Of all people, you were the one he least expected to call him that. In the distance some players from the basketball team began to approach.

"Is the freak bothering you?" one of them shouted. You only turned to look at them to then turn to look at Eddie who was still looking at you, his eyes started to create a crystalline layer.

You didn't know what to say, your mind was blank from the shock of what had just happened, so all you could do was turn around and walk away. A lump in your throat was forming making your eyes begin to cloud quickly with tears, your body was shaking as you walked away from the school. When you got to your mother's car, you slammed the door shut and broke down, covering your face with your hands as you sobbed. You didn't know what hurt more, the fact that Eddie had betrayed you or that you had done the same thing in front of everyone, breaking each other’s hearts.

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About 'Love in the Past' I´m in the middle of writing the next chapter so it will be ready before the weekend.

[shmolish]

nice story but can you make dark cacao vs affogato x male affogato's priest reader but in original universe like reader meet affogato again outside kingdom during mission

also add against and injured ( not too much )

AN: So, I kinda forgot a lot of the crk kingdom lore, but I think I got this! Been procrastinating on this one, sorry. In Affogato's wiki, it says that after his banishment, he practiced magic and stuff, so I mentioned that in the story. Um, and I tried to find out where he went after the banishment, but I couldn't find anything so I'm just assuming he's just in a small camp or set. Idk man. If things aren't right in this, please just lmk and I can make some edits or maybe just another story. I SWEAR IM TRYING. Also I'm calling reader the prince since him and Dark Cacao are dating

Dark Cacao vs Affogato x Male! Affogato Priest's Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Mild Injury, not proof read

-Unpleasant-

A radiant, pure, and glistening snow. It covered the ground, and trees... everything. A beautiful sight to behold, and luckily for you, you were experiencing the light snowfall firsthand!

You were recently sent out on a mission to survey a certain area in the woods. Nothing too difficult. In fact, it was very simple. Survey, collect data, and then return to the kingdom, and with the light snowfall, it should have been that hard.

Well, the snow used to be light. You don't know what caused such a sudden change, but it was now practically a blizzard. If you didn't retreat to somewhere more warm, you were going to freeze to death!

The only problem is... where would you go? Everything was all forest as far as the eyes could see.

"Feeling cold doll? Looks like you could use some help.." said a voice. You couldn't see who it was through all of the snow, but... you couldn't shake the feeling that you knew them.

"Oh, yeah! Is there anywhere we can go get out of the blizzard..?"

You could hear a subtle chuckle.

"Of course there is." A bright light would flash and you were now in a completely different area.

A nice, warm, and cozy cabin. A fireplace was lit in the corner, but.... you could also now see them.

"Affogato Cookie?" You'd shout in bewilderment as you took a step back.

"Yes. Did you miss me~?" He'd take a step closer to you and take hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him.

Immediately, you swatted away his hand and sent him a glare.

"Do not touch me," you would hiss.

"Ahaha, you've still got that vicious personality, I see! But... this is no way to treat the person who has just saved your life, is it?"

He stared at you with those cold and uncaring eyes, still weilding that sly smile he always had all those months ago.

"Fine then. Thank you for saving me," you would say half-heartedly. You were grateful, just a bit on edge since it was Affogato who had saved you.

"So doll, how have you been? Is the king doing well?" He would ask. You only nod your head.

"How... unpleasant."

Affogato would swirl around his staff, and a pain would shoot through your body.

You knew exactly what this was. It was the poison he would use on his enemies... but he's improved.

"Ah, I've missed you're charming little expressions! This is why you've always been my favorite little doll~" He would pinch your cheeks while giving you that taunting smile.

"It hurts, doesn't it? I can make it stop," said Affogato Cookie.

"Then stop it," you would say with a glare.

"Of course! Under one condition though. You have to bring me to meet Dark Cacao Cookie. This is something you can do... yes?"

Oh. He was planning something for sure, but... all you could think about was the venom running through your blood.

"Fine! Just cut it out already."

He'd flick his staff once more, and the pain would lessen. Of course, poison cannot be cured so easily.

"The burning sensation will only last for a little while. Anyway, I'm glad we could come to an agreement! Now then, shall we head there now?"

That scowl never left your face, but you would nod your head all the same. It's not like you could take Affogato in a fight anyway.

《☆》

As Affogato and you walked into the gates of the kingdom, some guards would immediately ready their weapons.

"Prince, what is that traitor doing with you?!" They would ask in a panic.

You took a look at Affogato, who had never looked so calm and collected before.

"Stand down. I'm bringing him to the king," You'd order. Afgogato would chuckle before giving a viscious side eye towards the guards.

They looked shocked, but ultimately followed your lead since going against you was like going against the king himself.

"Yes sir." They said with a bow.

You started walking towards the castle, getting scared looks from the normal citizens.

The dizziness from before has also yet to fade.

"This kingdom looks the same as last time.. though, you are looking as darling as ever," Affogato would say with a grin.

"I don't want to hear it from you."

Affogato only hums, not bothering to push much farther.

It did not take long before you had reached the king's chambers.

Dark Cacao noticed Affogago instantly.

"What is he doing here?" Dark Cacao would ask with a booming voice. His blade was already at the ready.

"Ah ah ah, I wouldn't be so hasty to attack. You're little lover here might get hurt,"

Affogato would snicker before waving his staff, and that dark bubble would come back to consume you.

"You-" Dark Cacao would grit his teeth while glaring daggers into Affogato.

"Hand over the kingdom, and I'll stop the curse on him."

Dark Cacao's eyes darkened, and in an instant, he'd dash over to Affogato and strike him.

The blade would barely graze Affogato's shoulder, but it still drew blood. In a panic, Affogato would fall to the ground and start backing away.

"Ah, this isn't how the plan was supposed to turn out-"

Dark Cacao pointed the Swords edge at his neck.

"Stop the spell and leave. Next time you come here, I won't hesitate to take your life," said Dark Cacao.

He laughed nervously before swiftly undoing the curse. He flicked the staff once more again and teleported to who knows where.

Dark Cacao rushed to your side quickly.

"Are you alright?" He'd ask, holding you up.

"Yeah..." you began to cough a bit before looking at him with weary eyes.

"Here, let's get you some rest..."

《☆》 Fin

[switchyglitch]

Slow Feet, Quick Fingers

Summary: On a Halloween like any other, your town experiences something it never has before, the undead. Nobody knows how this started or how it could be real, and neither do you, but you know what these creatures must want.. or do you?

Word Count: 843

Note: Happy Halloween! I decided I wanted to do some writing this Halloween, so I went and wrote a little spooky tickle story. I even went and formatted it like other stories I've seen on here to make it more official. Enjoy! 💜

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Out of breath, you find yourself back at your front door, fully boarded up. You have no idea how any of this can be real, but you can't deny what you've seen, what the whole town has seen.. Zombies, real life zombies. Nobody knows where they came from, they just popped up out of nowhere. At first everyone assumed it was a flash mob for Halloween, but the smell and the sight of an arm falling off of one of them seemed to prove well enough that they were the real deal. They're slow, no victims reported dead as of yet, but they're incredibly strong and have been seen breaking through any attempts to hold them back. They continue forward on their mission, saying aloud various parts of the body that you can only assume are their way of calling dibs on which parts they each wish to eat.

You've managed to evade them just like everyone else, until now. After boarding up every window and door in the house, even bedroom and bathroom doors in case they got through the first layer of defense, your attempt to board the last window was interrupted. Before you could prevent it, a zombie managed it's way through the window and into your house. You rushed out of that room and tried your best to quickly board the door shut, but you know that'll only keep it at bay for so long. The sound of fists pounding on wood now echoes through the house as you stand by your boarded front door with a metal bat, ready to fight for your life.

But then, a zombie hand bursts through the boards behind you like a rocket, reaching around to hold you against the wall. Out of shock and fear you drop your weapon, trying but failing to escape the arm's grip. Suddenly more arms break through, grabbing your wrists and ankles. You are now fully pinned to the wall from behind, unable to break free, panicking but still holding onto hope that this won't be the end. Two more arms break through from both sides, you know it's probably more restraints, but you fear they'll plunge right into your gut and finally rip you open to be eaten. You close your eyes, ready to accept your fate, but to your surprise you aren't ripped open. Instead, you notice the feeling of fingers dancing up and down your sides.

At first you barely notice, stunned and numb from the shock you've experienced thus far, but you start to squirm as your nerves relax a bit. The fingers speed up their attack, and soon the hands fully grab onto your sides and start squeezing. You're confused, still scared, but despite all of that you can't help but burst out laughing. The other arms hold you firmly in place so you can't get away as you try to wiggle from the grasp of this odd tickling zombie outside your walls. Soon several more hands break through the walls, and though you momentarily fear that this will now surely be your doom, but you're quickly proven wrong as they head towards other tickle spots. Some hands scribble under your arms, a few squeeze your thighs and tickle the tops of your feet, one even fluttering it's fingers up and down your back. You're a giggly mess, unable to escape but slowly realizing you don't really want to anymore, because as scary as it was at the start it's quite fun now.

Then, you hear the zombie from earlier finally break out of the room you trapped him in, he comes into sight and starts walking towards you. Through your own laughter, you hear it say something as it makes its way over, "Tum... Tuuuumm.."

It's at this moment you realize that the zombies were never calling out the parts of the body they wanted to eat, but the ones they wanted to tickle, and now you know what's about to come next. You squirm more, trying harder to get away as you see the zombie's hands reaching out as it walks with its eyes set on your ticklish torso. It finally reaches you and starts moving it's fingers all across your tummy, as the rest continue attacking just about every other spot that makes you laugh.

Eventually, you notice the many hands begin to slow down, and in time they stop and release you. You collapse to the floor, still giggling up a storm, every spot feeling extra tingly. The hands retract from the wall as you hear the zombies outside begin to depart, and the one inside makes its way back out the window it entered from. You lay there for a while, recovering and trying to process the reality of what occurred over this past while. There really are no words or explanations for what happened, and honestly you don't care. You had a good time, a weird time, but a good one. And you can't help but wonder if this will ever happen again.

Maybe next Halloween 😜