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I think I mentioned at some point that quinn is basically the only person with it/its privileges for alex bc it/its is reserved for Very Special Friends, so quinn uses it pronouns for alex while nat uses he/him
I have established that epilogue nat also uses it/its for alex so that's nice c:
even from the start i didn't like the idea of even anything platonic going on. Now the shippers soured even the concept of those two being in one fucking room, that i can't even look at anything with them, because i'm always expecting that it somehow is going to turn into a ship
anyway, even if i didn't hate it, i would say no anyway, because like. they were genetically ingeneered to HATE each other. AT BEST they can learn to maintain cold peace for Charlie's sake and troll each other occasionally, but they will NEVER even be drinking buddies. Since "breaking up" with Vox alastor doesn't even drink when isn't alone, he'll never be drinking around mr. L And mr. L showed his disdain for alcohol pretty clearly.
so, no, i can't accept this thing as even platonic
On unrelated note just learned that some dumbahh RA shipper(s?) is/are trying to cancel me. that was the funniest shit i've read in the last month. by them, it's ok to harass me, but when i finally snap and start biting off heads, i'm the bad guy and act "childish". ok bro. i tried to be nice about it, but you guys can't understand "no" when it said calmly. So i'm going Alastor-rejecting-Vox mode to make it CLEAR that i don't want to do ANYTHING with the ship. if i could help it, i would want to avoid this ship like a plague and keep it out of my blog. if i could i just would never mention it and ignore that it exists, but alas. some people think that the world revolves around them and their ship. They scream "it's canon" to the point when even Viv herself has to say that "yall need to chill, ships are just ships". They keep saying how it's better and trying to instert it in every hole (the amount of times i've seen that "alastor should go to l*cifer for help" in the comments for both Blinded and IF is fucking infuriating). At this point i'm no longer nice, i'm telling people like this to get the fuck off.
i can't respect fandom etiquette, they say. so now you can't just hate something in your little corner, It's "rude". But you can just go and pester people about your ship, trying to insert it in a story where it has not even a sliver of chance to be, edit people's art to make it about your ship (and it happened MORE THAN ONCE BTW) (there is a whole TIKTOK ACCOUNT THAT DOES IT), and this is somehow fine with "fandom etiquette". If i go under a r***le comic and start commenting like "cool, but Alastor is better with Rosie/Vox/Charlie/Mimzy/Carmilla/Suzan/whatever", i know for a fact i'll get hate and death threats. Ah, do, do you smell it?? My favorite âšdouble standartsâš
ship and let ship, they say, yet only doing the first part of that this rule
I don't hate ALL r***le shippers. I don't even hate people screaming that it's canon, i'll just be annoyed and scroll, because i'm tired of wasting my energy on fighting the windmills, season 3 will sort everything out. But if you do anything listed above - then yeah, go fuck yourself.
you can kinda consider this to be an indirect answer to this shitpost
haruhi fujioka is the boy you choose to have a crush on to hide that you're a big ass lesbian ê° à Ë. á”á”
Your friends were the ones who dragged you to that Host Club, you didn't want to go at all. You have better things to do than sitting on a couch with random kids from your class to drink tea and talk. But they're so handsome! Your friends insisted on that and yes, objectively, they are pretty boys. But you can't see the appeal on them, you never did.
That was a problem for some time of your life, thinking there's something wrong with you because you don't like men, in your mind, you were going to spend all of your alone, and that would be a terrible outcome for simply not liking boys. At the same time, you loved being around girls, brushing their hair and doing your make up together, cuddling in sleepovers were your favorite activities to do.
It took you two whole years to realize that you were a lesbian.
You haven't really told anyone yet, not because you are ashamed, but because you don't feel ready. Maybe you are a little scared of your friends judging you and being weirded out by you.
So for now on, you are just keeping it on secret.
After your first visit to the Host Club, all of your friends had new crushes in each of the boys and when they asked you, you didn't know what to say so you just went with it.
"Fujioka-kun is cute," you said, shrugging your shoulders.
Your friends' eyes went wide the second those words left your mouth. One of them squealed, grabbing your arm so tight it almost hurt. "Oh my gosh, you like the quiet one? That's so perfect!"
You tried to play it cool, shrugging again like it was no big deal, but your face was already getting warm. "I mean, yeah. He's⊠nice. Cute. Whatever."
From that moment on, it was chaos. Your friends turned into full-on matchmakers overnight. They started dragging you back to the Host Club every single afternoon, claiming it was for their own crushes. But really, they spent half the time whispering and giggling while they pushed you toward Haruhi's corner of the room.
The first time they tried setting you up, you wanted to melt into the fancy carpet. You were sitting on one of those velvet couches, sipping tea you didn't even like, when two of your friends suddenly left you there alone with Haruhi, who was quietly organizing some paperwork.
"Um⊠hi," you managed, your voice coming out way too soft. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought he might hear it. Haruhi looked up, his big brown eyes blinking at you in mild confusion.
"Hello. You're back again," he said, smiling politely like always. "Do you want me to keep you company?"
"Um, I mean... if you want," you said, frowning a little.
Haruhi tilted his head a little, trying to figure out if you were okay. He offered you another cup and his fingers brushed yours when he handed it over, you nearly dropped the whole thing. He was so calm and normal while you felt like your brain was on fire.
After that, your friends got bolder. They started accidentally leaving you two alone in the music room during club hours. One time they even made up a fake club event where everyone had to pair up for some silly game. You ended up partnered with Haruhi for a dance and your hands shook so bad you stepped on his feet a couple of times.
"You're really nervous today," he said quietly, not looking at you directly because he knows that would make you even more nervous. "Is everything alright? You don't have to force yourself to come here if you don't enjoy it."
Your face burned. He thought you didn't like the club? That wasn't it at all. "No, I⊠I do. It's just... awkward. I'm awkward." You wanted to say more, but the words stuck in your throat.
Haruhi smiled. "I don't think you're awkward at all. In fact, I find you very sweet."
That. That shouldn't have made you feel like that. Your stomach was doing cartwheels over a boy? No way! You're not attracted to boys, even if they look cute and feminine like Haruhi.
But Haruhi was so nice with you. He'd just listen when you stumbled over small talk, offering thoughtful little comments about school or the ridiculous antics of the other hosts. Sometimes he'd even smile at you in that genuine way that made your stomach flip.
Your friends, meanwhile, were losing their minds. Always saying things like "HE LOOKED AT YOU FOR FIVE WHOLE SECONDS" and "GO FOR IT GIRL HE'S TOTALLY INTO YOU". You kept telling them to stop, that it wasn't like that, but they wouldn't listen. They were convinced this was the romance of the year.
At some point, everything started to feel too heavy. You slipped away after classes, finding an empty classroom on the third floor. The door clicked shut behind you and you slid down against the wall until you were sitting on the cool floor, knees pulled up to your chest.
You felt like the worst friend in the world. Every time they giggled about your "crush" on Fujioka-kun, you smiled and played along, but you were lying to them. Hiding the biggest part of yourself because you were scared they would look at you differently. What kind of friend does that?
The door slid open softly. You froze, quickly wiping your face with your sleeve, but it was too late. Haruhi stood there, holding a stack of papers, looking surprised to see anyone inside.
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," he said. He hesitated, then stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Are you⊠okay? You look really upset."
You tried to say you were fine, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, fresh tears spilled over. Haruhi set his papers on a desk and sat down on the floor a respectful distance away.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he added after a moment. "But if you need to talk, I'm here."
That was enough for you to tell the whole story between sniffles. How your friends dragged you to the Host Club. How you panicked and said Fujioka-kun was cute just to have something to say. How they turned it into this huge thing, pushing you two together every chance they got. And then the bigger truth, the one you had never said out loud to anyone.
"I'm a lesbian, Haruhi," you whispered, staring at your hands. "I've known for a couple years now but I haven't told my friends yet. I'm so scared they'll think I'm weird or that it'll change everything between us. So I've been pretending to have a crush on you because you're a boy and it was the easiest way to keep the secret. But now everything feels like one big lie and I hate it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into this mess."
You finally looked up at him, expecting confusion or maybe even discomfort. But Haruhi just sat there, blinking slowly as he processed everything.
"Thank you for trusting me with that," he said quietly. "It must have been really hard carrying it alone. Your friends sound like they care about you a lot. Maybe⊠they would surprise you if you told them? But I get why you're scared. Coming out is personal. You do it when you're ready."
Haruhi sat there quietly for a moment, letting his words settle between you. You wiped your tears again, feeling a little lighter just from his words and then he shifted a bit closer on the floor, gathering his thoughts.
"Since you trusted me with something so big, I want to trust you too." He paused, brushing some hair out of his face. "I'm actually a girl."
You blinked at him, not sure you heard right at first. "Huh?"
Haruhi turned fully towards you, a light flush on her cheeks. "Yeah. I never meant for the whole school to think I'm a boy, but after joining the Host Club I just went with it... also I do enjoy looking androgynous and spending time with beautiful girls."
You stared at her, everything clicking into place. The way she moved, the softness in her voice sometimes, how she never quite fit the loud boy energy of the other hosts. Your face grew hot as you realized your fake crush had been on a girl the whole time.
"Oh my god," you whispered, huffing a laugh. "What were the possibilities?"
She let out a quiet laugh, light and real. "It's kind of funny when you think about it."
You end up dropping your face to her shoulder, laughing against it. Haruhi also falls into laughter, wanting to wrap her arm around you but you already lifted your forehead from her shoulder and now you were looking at her right in the eyes.
"Do you really enjoy flirting with girls?" you asked her, wanting to know more about her.
"Yeah, actually I have a favorite," she says, biting her lips shyly.
"Really?" You arched your eyebrows, stopping yourself to ask who it was.
"Yup. She's really awkward sometimes, especially when her friends push her into things she doesn't want to do. But it's kind of cute. She has this pretty smile that she doesn't show enough. I didn't realize it at first, but every time she comes around the music room I find myself looking forward to seeing her."
She paused and looked right at you, waiting for you to catch up. "She's sitting right here, actually."
Your breath caught in your throat. "Me?" you whispered, pointing at yourself.
"Yeah, you."
You have no idea what people do in this situations so you just sit back in your heels, getting awkwardly close to Haruhi's face and you gave her a quick peck on the lips that she didn't even have time to give back.
a/n: I LOVE LESBIANSSSSS I LOVE HARUHIII AAAAAAAA. i need more fics of her i want to bite her cheeks and put her eyes in my boba tea
the afternoon of the next day comes by quicker than you thought. the day was simple, talking to nobara, yuji, and megumi, training, sparing, getting made fun of by gojo and geto. not to be complaining too much about geto.
You found yourself to be really fitting in.
in your dorm nobara lays on your bed in a tank top and baggy pj pants, âSooooâŠâ you look to her
âsoo?â she sits up immediately
âGETO.â you throw a pillow at her
âshhh youâre loud.. but yea.. hes so cute.â she nods
âcute but⊠i dont know i got vibes.. like flirting vibes. But soft launch flirting you know?â
you feel youâre face heat up, âreally? i dont really know⊠i mean i hope.â
âHE KEPT TRYING TO FIND WAYS TO HELP YOU WITH YOUR TECHNIQUE Y/NNN. it was so cute.â you blush and hug your knees
âmaybe..â you glance at your phone.
âshouldnât we be heading to yujis room soon?â
she shrugs âim always late when we hang out, i think maki was gonna come to your dorm first anyway.â just as she said her name maki knocks at your door. maki comes in with a nonchalant look on her face and sits on the bed next to you. Youâve never seen her in person. she has burn marks up her whole body, toned muscles,short hair that suits her amazingly. You find yourself blushing and staring but you look away quickly.
âso when are we going to itadoriâs?â her voice is so smooth.. so nice to hear.
âu-uh whenever you guys want.. i was gonna change first though. i wanna look cute because this is the first time im meeting everyone.â
nobara rolls her eyes, âyou already look cute, i mean look at me and maki we are dressed like bums..â she leans against maki and maki wraps a strong arm around her laughing slightly.
âyea y/n you look pretty,â maki adds. the compliment makes you blush, it felt different coming from her for some reason. you go to your closet and find something cute.
you change infront of them and the rooms erupts into whistles and flirty jokes.
âyou guys are stupid.â you laugh while fixing your reflection in the mirror.
"yeah, yeah, whatever," nobara says, standing up dramatically. "can we go now? i'm starving and if yuji ate all the snacks before we get there, i'm fighting him."
"you fight him every day anyway," maki points out.
"exactly."
the three of you leave your dorm and start walking across campus. the evening air is cool, carrying the sounds of students training in the distance. nobara and maki spend most of the walk arguing about what movie you're watching while you trail beside them, smiling to yourself.
you hadn't expected any of this.
you thought that you would be alone. but you arenât. You have friends. Real friends.
as you approach yuji's dorm building, loud shouting echoes through the hallway.
"that is literally not how you make popcorn!"
"it literally is!"
"you burned it!"
"it's lightly toasted!"
nobara sighs.
"yuji."
maki sighs.
"yuji."
you laugh.
definitely yuji.
nobara pushes open the dorm room door without knocking.
"move, idiots."
the room is already crowded.
you scanned the room and waved awkwardly.
yuji is standing beside a microwave with smoke suspiciously drifting out of it.
megumi is sitting on the floor looking like he regrets every decision that led him here.
yuta and panda are sitting on the bed arguing with yuji, and inumaki sits quietly, staring at you. you slide next to him, barely any space so youâre thigh to thigh with him.
âHi inumaki.â you poked his side.
âS-salmon.â he stutters, you furrowed your eyebrows.
âHungry?â he shakes his head no. megumi cuts in
âInumaki is a cursed speech user, his speech amplifies the power and compulsion of words. he limits his vocabulary to keep others safe.â
you look up slightly intrigued. âSo if he told someone to cum their pants right now theyâd do it?â inumaki blushes, stifles out a laugh, and nods frantically. âSalmon salmon.â
you poke his side again, âso i guess that means everyone woman is satisfied?â yuta laughs.
âas if he could get any.â inumaki rolls his eyes and opens his mouth
âbe quiet.â
yutas mouth shuts immediately. âmmm! mm! mmmm!â he throws something at inumaki and he undoes it.
the situation causes you to laugh, âyouâre funny inumaki.â
something about the way you laugh and say his name causes him to freeze for half a second.
yuta notices.
panda notices.
megumi notices.
yuji definitely notices.
ârizz god my ass,â yuta mutters and inumaki shoves him.
yuji gives panda and yuta a look and they get up, leaving y/n and inumaki on the bed.
âSo what are we watching?â you ask, megumi opens a bag of chips and nobara sits next to him and takes the bag. megumi shoves her, takes the bag back and hands her one chip.
The process of choosing a movie takes twenty minutes.
Twenty.
Minutes.
Every suggestion gets shut down immediately.
âRomance.â
âNo.â
âComedy.â
âNo.â
âAction.â
âNo.â
âHorror.â
âYes.â
âNo.â
âYes.â
âNo.â
âYes.â
âWhy do we keep asking if we're picking horror anyway?â Megumi asks.
âBecause democracy matters.â nobara says
âThat's not democracy.â
âIt's democracy when I win.â
Megumi looks ready to leave.
âi hate everyone.â
you perk up. âLets watch obsession. itâs supposed to be like really scary.â
the room agrees, just as yuji was about to press play the dorm room swings open. gojo and geto walk in.
âYuj- oh? planning a movie night without the coolest strongest sorcerers here? and my little cousin didnât even tell me.â gojo crosses his arms and geto makes eye contact with you. a blush creeps up to your face and you wave. megumi sighs
âas if this couldnt get any worse.â
"well, there's no way we're not joining," geto says. "especially when our favorite second-year is here."
your face burns.
gojo immediately notices.
"oh, that's cute."
"shut up."
"i didn't say anything."
"you were thinking it."
the two settle onto the floor.
without really thinking about it, you stand and move over.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Authors note: I wrote this on my phone on a plane and Iâm pretty sure I traumatised the man next to me who was defo reading this as I typed. Maybe I gave him some ideas idk đ anyway this may be shit cuz typing on your phone with acrylics is HARD but anyway hope you enjoy đ
The late afternoon sun threw long, golden bars across the courtyard, casting warm light over Daryl's hunched form beside his bike. His hands were slick with grease, black smudges working their way past his knuckles as he adjusted the chain, but his ears were trained on the familiar cadence of boots scraping over gravel.
He didn't even look up at first-just sat back slowly, wiping his palms on a rag, because he felt you before he saw you.
And then you appeared around the corner, squinting into the sun, your expression halfway between a scowl and a grimace.
Yeah. He'd missed you. Not that he'd say it out loud.
You stomped straight past the garden, past the communal tables, past Carol and her grilling station and the goat tied to the post, and collapsed onto his bike like it was a throne. It creaked under your weight, and you let out a long, theatrical groan, dragging a hand down your face.
"Don't even talk to me," you muttered.
Daryl blinked, still crouched. "Didn't say nothin'" You jabbed a finger at him without opening your eyes. "You were gonna."
He rocked back on his heels, watching as you flopped dramatically over the tank, face mashed sideways against the cool metal. "Rough patrol?"
"Rough life," you grumbled, your voice muffled by the bike. "Everything sucks. I'm tired, I stink, I have blood in places there shouldn't be blood, and Karen is off banging Tyreese, so I said l'd cover for her, because I'm stupid and nice and I hate myself."
Daryl bit down a smirk. "Sounds like you had a good day."
You sat up sharply, one hand stabbing through your hair. "And Derek-oh my god, Derek-his dumbass muffler is hanging off by a literal shoelace, and he asked me if I could take a look cause he's too scared to ask you, and then Maggie cornered me about tomorrow's run, asking if i could get somethings for her, and I still haven't done my goddamn laundry, and I have worn these exact socks for four days straight. I smell like if a foot had a panic attack."
Daryl leaned back against the bench, looking up at you like you were some loud, angry creature who'd wandered into his line of sight. He liked it, though. Your fire. The way you vented to him without holding back.
You waved your arms now. "I've got nothing left.
No underwear. Just vibes. And a maxi pad that's hanging on for dear life. I swear to god, if I sneeze, it's over."
He snorted and stood, dusting his palms on his jeans. "Jeez, alright."
"Alright?" You raised a brow.
"I'll do it."
"Do what?"
He shrugged. "All of it. Derek's car, Karen's post, Maggie's list, your laundry. Whatever. Just write it down."
You stared at him like he'd just offered you a full spa day and a weekend off. "Are you serious?"You blinked, basically waiting for him to say nah never mind."I mean, I was just gonna throw it in with Rick's load. He said he was putting one on later anyway."
Daryl's whole expression twisted like you'd just confessed to something deeply upsetting. "What?"
You shrugged. "I didn't think it was a big-"
"Rick don't need to be eyeballin' your drawers, alright? Jesus." He rubbed his hand down his face, probably and shook his head like it should have been obviously that he didnât want some other dude to see your underwear.
You opened your mouth to argue-halfheartedly, maybe to tease him-but decided against it. Your body sagged in visible relief, like the tension in your spine finally gave up.
"Really?"
He nodded again. "Go get cleaned up. I'll take care of the rest."
You slid off the bike, still flushed and sticky from the heat, and started walking away. But then you stopped in your tracks, remembering something you forgot and turned back around towards him. He thought maybe you were gonna keep listing your complaints, but instead, you just curled your fingers around his collar and kissed him.
Not a big kiss. Not desperate.
Just soft, pressed lips and a shared exhale that tasted like sweat and dust and end-of-day warmth.
"Hi," you murmured against his lips.
His ears went red immediately. "Hi," he grunted back. The look on his face was ray of completiony smitten. You pecked him on the lips again before say:"You're such a sap."
"Shut up."
You smirked and tapped his chest before strutting off toward the house. He waited until the door shut behind you before looking down. Holy shit he could not stop smiling. He rubbed his stubble as if to try and rub off the smitten that he was riddled with but it was useless.
With a sigh he got up and went towards Karenâs post. Sure, heâs got it bad for you but that doesnât mean heâs stopped being useful.
ââ-
He climbed the stairs two at a time, the afternoon heat clinging to his shoulders and the faint scent of bike oil still clinging to his hands. He'd done everything. Tightened Derek's belt pulley, told Eugene to stop sniffing around Rosita's absence, watered the garden, filled up the propane tank, even got an inventory list from Siddiq.
Everything... but your laundry.
He entered your shared room and there you were, curled in the center of the bed like a half-dead catâhis boxer briefs hanging loose on your hips, a ratty old bra you only wore on
"survival mode" days stretched across your chest, your hair still damp and plastered to your temple in soft curls. A hot water bottle rose and fell gently against your belly like it had become part of you.
You looked perfect there and he simply couldnât resist walking over to you.
You didn't stir until he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into your hair.
"Mmnghh," you grumbled, burrowing deeper into the blanket.
Daryl chuckled under his breath and grabbed the laundry basket near the door.
It was heavy with a vengeance
-your jeans, your sweatshirts, your underwear, your socks that had probably given up their will to live. He heaved it into his arms and started toward the stairs. To say this was a foreign experience for Daryl was an understatement. Usually he either never bothered with laundry or someone else would do it for him like you or carol. He didnât ask you to you just did it. Just like he just makes sure your hot water bottle is always filled and that you have some painkillers (even though you refuse to take it because someone else could need it more).
"Hey," he called over his shoulder. "Where do we keep that... detergent stuff?"
"Top shelf," you replied without even opening your eyes. "Left of the emergency tampons, right of the oatmeal."
He squinted. "Oatmeal?"
âItâs Alexandria,â you muttered. "We store what we fear."
He snorted and padded back down the stairs, nudging the laundry room door open with his foot. The top shelf was exactly as promised: a chaotic shrine of cleaning products, feminine hygiene supplies, and an old canister labeled NOT SALT in angry black Sharpie.
He grabbed the detergent, unscrewed the cap, and promptly forgot everything you'd ever told him about sorting.
Did black go with color? Did period sweatpants count as darks? What the hell even were delicates?
With the confidence of a man who'd never once considered the tensile strength of bra underwire, he chucked everything in-lace panties, gym socks, old T-shirts, your favorite hoodie-and poured a generous waterfall of detergent in after them. No measuring cup. Just guessing.
Then he hit some buttons.
One beeped. Another lit up blue. He saw the word sanitize and thought that sounded promising.
"Hey!" you called from upstairs, a little louder now. "You sure you know what you're doing? I can come down if_"
"I'm a grown man!" he hollered back, smacking the
'Start' button with more conviction than knowledge. "I know how to do laundry!"
He did not.
Especially not when the machine clicked, whirred, and locked itself shut like a vault about to commit war crimes. It was thought that count thought right?
âââââ
The door creaked softly as Daryl pushed it open with his shoulder, carrying the still-warm laundry basket. He nudged it into the room with his boot and set it beside the dresser with a grunt, already pulling off his flannel as he turned.
You were exactly where heâd left you hours agoâcurled up on your side in the middle of the bed, one arm draped over a hot water bottle, the other tucked under your cheek. His boxer briefs sat low on your hips, waistband slightly twisted, and your braâGod help itâlooked like it was clinging to life by stubborn elastic and nostalgia. It had to be at least five years old. The only clean one left.
His chest did something sharp and soft all at once.
The sight of youâtousled, flushed from cramps and exhaustion, surrounded by pillows like a nesting creatureâhit him square in the sternum. You looked miserable. And beautiful. And absolutely like his.
He crouched down beside the bed, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.
You stirred, eyes blinking open slowly.
âHey,â he said, voice rough from the day. âYou eat?â
âWasnât hungry,â you murmured, not moving a muscle. âIâm fine.â
âYeah, well. I did your laundry.â He said it like an accomplishment.
You gave him a lazy look. âIâm very proud of you.â
Daryl exhaled a breath that mightâve been a laugh, but it came out more like a resigned huff. His hand moved to rest gently on your side, hovering just above the hot water bottle.
âYou want somethinâ? Painkillers? Soup?â
You shook your head. âSomeone elseâll need it more. Just stay.â
He didnât need to be told twice. He climbed in behind you, stretching out on his side and pulling you back gently into his chest. One arm curled around your chest, the other folded over the hot water bottle, pressing it snug against you.
Silence settled between you, not an uncomfortable one but peaceful. Thenâsoft as breathâhe pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Just one. Barely a touch and you didnât react.
Another followed, slower this time. Then another, tucked behind your ear, the kind that made your skin prickle.
You let out a soft noise, not quite a sigh, and shifted a little closer.
His lips found the curve of your neck. The dip behind your jaw. Fuck. Why did you have to be on your fucking period when your ridiculously hot boyfriend wants to bump uglies with you.
âDarylâŠâ you murmured, half-warning, half-weary.
âI know,â he said, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. âJust wanna help.â
You tilted your head back slightly, letting him in.
âAinât scared of a little blood,â he whispered, like it was nothing. âJust wanna make ya feel better.â
You didnât speak. Just exhaledâdeep and shakyâand let your body sink into his.
His mouth moved down your neck again, a trail of heat and softness. His hand left the hot water bottle, sliding under the hem of the boxer briefs with aching slowness, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, gently tugging them down midway to your thighs. He wasnât in any rush. Just learning you again, re-mapping the places that made you melt.
He paused when he reached your ass, warm hand resting there like a question.
You answered by pressing back into him, nudging his chest with your shoulder.
His breath hitched.
When his hand moved higher, cupping your breast, you inhaled sharply from the slight aching pain in your breast, but he adjusted instantly. Less pressure. Just his thumb brushing in slow, lazy circles.
âThis ok?â he asked quietly.
You swallowed. âYeah.. just a little sensitive there.â
âThis better?â He whispered in to your ear as he fondled your breast with touch lighter than a feather. The pad of his thumb brushed in small, reverent strokes until you were sighing under him, lips parted.
The ache began to shift. Soften.
You nodded against the pillow, breath catching. âYeah.â
He shifted behind you, still spooned close, and tugged his shirt off with a quiet grunt. You felt the movement more than saw itâheat leaving his skin, muscles shifting as he folded the shirt one-handed and reached around to tuck it beneath your hip. Not a word spoken. Just quiet care.
With yourâhisâboxers shoved halfway down your legs, your ass was bare to the air and to him. And God, the sight of you like thatâsoft and flushed and waitingânearly knocked the air out of his lungs.
He let his hand trail over you slowly, reverently, palm broad as it curved around your hip. His fingers found the swell of you and gently coaxed the skin apart, just enough to look. Just enough to see. And what he saw made him go still.
You were slick. Puffy and red from arousal and heat, blood already painting the inside of your thighs in thin, sticky streaks. The swollen, glistening part of you twitched under his touch, like you were straining toward him even in stillness. He swallowed hardâalmost too hard. The blood pounded in his ears. His cock throbbed behind his jeans, still confined while you were laid bare like some fever-dream offering he hadnât earned.
He very nearly came from the sight of you alone.
But he breathed through it, slow and thick, grounding himself against the frantic need clawing up his spine. When he finally moved, it was with painstaking care. He shoved his jeans down with one hand, just enough, fumbling a little, dragging the waistband low with a soft hiss between his teeth. His skin met yoursâfever-warm, flushed, raw with want.
One arm slid under your head again, curling you tight to his chest, while the other found your bare hip, steadying you. Then he reached down and aligned himselfâhis knuckles brushing your thigh, his cock nudging against the blood-slick heat of you.
You made a sound then, soft and helpless, and clutched the sheets tighter beneath your fingers. The heat of his chest behind you anchored you in place.
âYou okay?â he rasped, voice breaking as his mouth brushed your hairline.
You turned your head just enough for your nose to brush his jaw. Your eyes fluttered. âMhmm.â It came out weak. Boneless. But full of trust.
And that was all he needed.
He pressed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch so gradual it felt endless. His cock eased through the messâslick from bloodâuntil he was seated fully inside you, hips flush to your ass, chest pressed tight to your back.
Your breath hitched. He kissed your neck.
And then he moved. Barely. Just a roll of his hips, gentle and deep, like the steady ebb of a tide pulling you toward him. One arm circled your waist and locked you against him, the other splayed over your lower belly, warm and unmoving, holding the pressure there like a balm.
You couldnât move with him holding you like thatânot that you wanted to. You were cradled completely, surrounded by heat and skin and muscle, your body shaking with every slow thrust that pushed you further into the sheets. This was home. The curve of his hand on your stomach. The heat of his breath on your neck. The way he whispered things into your skin that werenât quite words.
Everything about his touch was slow. Grounded. Purposeful. Each movement was measured, coaxing instead of claiming, like he wasnât just trying to fuck youâhe was trying to put you back together.
Your bodies rocked together in a rhythm that belonged to no one else. Every slow glide of his cock dragged against places that ached with tenderness, with craving. The cramps youâd been drowning in all day were fading nowâswallowed under the warmth building low in your belly, in the soft clench of your muscles around him.
The wet sounds between you were obsceneâmessy and constant, every stroke echoing off your slick walls, made worse by the blood that had smeared between your thighs and now soaked into Darylâs shirt beneath you. You could feel it dripping slowly down the side of your ass, warm and unbothered, painting both of you in a truth that didnât disgust him, didnât slow him. He never flinched. Just kept you close, kept moving, soft groans slipping from his throat every time you clenched tighter. If anything, it turned him on more.
He didnât let up. Didnât falter. Every thrust was slow and deep, every exhale catching at the end like he was barely holding himself back. His arm squeezed tighter around your waist. He kissed the place behind your ear. You felt the shiver run through him, through you, through everything.
âDarylâŠâ you breathed into the pillow, your voice thinned with tension, pleasure crawling up your spine in slow, tightening coils. You were already hoveringâyour body flushed, hypersensitive, every inch of you alive with the stretch of him, the weight of him behind you, the unbearable goodness of how slowly he moved inside you.
âYou close, baby?â he murmured, lips grazing your temple. His voice was tight, breath hitching like he was holding something back.
âRight there,â you whispered. âRight thereâŠâ
You werenât thinking when you said it.
âDeeper.â
His whole body stilledâjust for a second. And then something shifted.
He didnât speed up. He didnât lose rhythm.
But God, he sank deeper.
His hips rolled forward with a deliberate press, burying himself in you inch by inch until he bottomed out, staying there for a heartbeat like he needed to feel every shiver of you wrapped around him. The arm around your waist tightened, anchoring you back into his chest, and he let out a groan that sounded like it had been waiting all night to escape.
âYeah,â he rasped, voice frayed. âThis what you want?â
You couldnât speakâyou just moaned into the pillow, a long, trembling sound, your body going slack in his arms. It was almost too muchâbeing so full, so stretched, the slick glide of him now drowned in the mess between you. His cock moved slow and heavy inside you, dragging over every nerve ending, grinding so deep you saw sparks behind your eyes.
It wasnât rough. It was intimateâfilthy only because of how much there was to feel.
But he didnât stop. He just held you tighter. So tight that your bodies were like one, wrapped in his arms, there was no space between your bodies. He kissed the nape of your neck; whispered things you couldnât hear properly, not over the sound of your own heartbeat crashing in your ears.
Your body tensed when you came, thighs trembling as your orgasm rippled through you like fire spreading across dry leaves. Crying out into the pillow, your cunt clenched around him so tight it knocked the air from your lungsâand from his. He let out a low, desperate groan, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he followed, cock twitching deep inside you.
He came with a low, drawn-out moan, hips barely moving now, just rocking into you in soft, greedy rolls. His come flooded you in long, hot pulses, mixing with everything else already dripping down your thighs.
Still, he stayed buried inside you. Still moving. Still holding you like he never wanted to let go.
And youâsoaked, aching, tremblingâjust curled tighter into his arms, breath catching in your throat as your body finally began to go still.
âYa feel any better?â Daryl murmured against your cheek, his voice low and husky, lips brushing your skin like he didnât want to break the spell. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, slow and lingering, like he was letting himself savor it.
You nodded, lips parted, still catching your breath, your body heavy and molten in his arms. âYou even gotta ask?â you croaked, your voice rough and raspy with exhaustion and satisfaction.
He chuckled against your skinâone of those rare, quiet laughs that vibrated low in his chest and made your belly flip. He kissed your cheek again, softer this time, the scratch of his stubble grazing your flushed skin as he nuzzled in like he couldnât get close enough.
The room exhaled around you. The hum of the fan, the creak of the old mattress beneath your tangled limbs, the faint rustle of leaves brushing the windowâeverything slowed, stilled.
Neither of you spoke for a long while.
His hand was sprawled across your stomach, warm and firm, fingers absently tracing slow, lazy circles over your skin like he wasnât even aware he was doing it. Your legs were a tangled mess beneath the sheets, your thigh slung over his, one of your feet tucked under his calf for warmth. The air smelled like sweat and sex and detergent. It smelled like you two.
You broke the silence first, your voice small and thick with sleep. âThank you.â
He didnât move. Just gave a quiet huff against your ear, teeth grazing the lobe as he nibbled on it with deliberate laziness. âWhatcha thankinâ me for?â he muttered, more amused than curious.
You sighed, the sound melting into a smile as you sank deeper into him. âJust⊠today,â you mumbled, your words almost slurred from how soft and warm you were.
âFor helpinâ me with everything,â you mumbled, voice thick with sleep and leftover breathlessness. âWith Karenâs post. With Derekâs piece-of-shit car. Maggieâs endless damn shopping list. My laundry andâuhâŠâ
Your stomach flipped, and not from nerves. Just the memoryâhot, sticky, vividâof the things heâd just done to you, and what exactly had happened on that now thoroughly ruined duvet. You trailed off, blinking at the ceiling, your brain momentarily short-circuited by the phantom echo of his grip, his pathetic groans, the way heâd filled you so completelyâ
He chuckled low against your neck, a lazy, sinful sound, like he knew exactly what image had just hijacked your thoughts and stolen the words clean from your mouth.
You rolled your eyes, smiling in spite of yourself.
ââAnd everything else,â you muttered, cheeks warm, eyes still shut as your grin spread. âSo⊠thanks.â
His arms tightened around you, drawing you in until there wasnât an inch of space left between your bodies. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell against your back, the way his chin tucked over your shoulder, the way his palm splayed across your stomach like he was trying to keep something inâlike he was holding it there on purpose.
âAny time,â he said, voice quiet but undeniably smug.
You didnât need to see him to know he was grinning like a bastard. You could feel it in the curl of his fingers on your belly, in the warmth radiating off his skin, in the way his leg shifted just enough to trap you there, locked in place under the weight of him.
Neither of you moved to clean up. Not even a little.
The sheets were a disasterâsticky, rumpled, probably ruinedâbut you didnât give a damn. Getting up now wouldâve felt like ripping the covers off someone who just got comfortable for the first time in hours. Maybe days.
And Daryl was too warm. Too firm. Too solid and there to even think about letting go.
Wrapped up in him like that, in the heat and the stillness, in the smell of sweat and his shampoo and that faded aftershave he swore he didnât wearâyou didnât feel like moving. You barely felt like breathing.
The mess could wait. Hell, it could dry there for all you cared. That was tomorrowâs problem.
ââââ
Tomorrow came.
And you were barely conscious when the knock hit the door.
"Ten minutes!" Michonne's voice rang clear from the hallway. "Get up or I'm leaving without you!"
Your voice was croaky from sleep. "If someone doesn't kill me by the end of the day, I'm gonna."
Daryl snorted through his nose and got off you, using a shirt to clean himself which quite honestly looked straight out a horror movie but he didnât bat an eye. He sat up, scratching his ribs and yawning like he didn't just look stupid hot doing the bare minimum. "S'posed to be your favourite route," he mumbled, standing up and tucking himself in while walking to the dresser. "You know that stretch better than anybody."
âCouldâve drawn yâall a mapâŠ. Ugh whatever" you muttered, rolling to your feet and stumbling toward the bathroom.
By the time you finished brushing your teeth, Daryl was already dressed and waiting for you downstairs.
"Damn miracle you didn't shrink your own shit," you teased, rifling through the basket for your usual patrol shirt.
But the second your fingers closed around the cotton, your stomach dropped.
It felt wrong. Tighter. Like a sock that had been boiled alive.
"Mm. Okay." You frowned, tugging it out and inspecting it. "Maybe it just feels smaller."
It didn't just feel smaller.
You wriggled into it anywayâ mostly because you were short on time, and bras were non-negotiable with the way your boobs felt like two bags of wet sandâand the shirt clung like paint. You had to yank it down just to stop it from riding up your ribs. It hugged your shoulders, pulled across your chest, squished your boobs together like a stripper and absolutely refused to be kind to your underarms.
Your pants were worse.
You had to hop, wriggle, and physically stuff yourself into them like pastry dough. They fought you the whole way up
-scraping your thighs, pinching your hipsâand by the time they buttoned-barely-you were flushed, sweaty, and on the verge of losing your entire will to live.
"Oh,fuck no."
You stomping out into the hallway , arms stiff at your sides. "Daryl!"
He bolted up the stairs, as if you were in danger or something. Yeah in danger of losing my shit.
When he got to the hallway and saw you the reaction was instant.
Like lightning to the base of his skull. His eyes went wide and took a step back as if you were a fire hazard . ââŠShit.â
âShit is right,â you snapped, tugging your shirt down. âWhat the fuck did you do to my clothes? Did you boil them? Did you sacrifice them to a demon? I look like a glazed ham.â
He tried to meet your eyeliner but eyes eyes were stuck to your body and how you looked in those tiny pieces of fabric. âIâuhâI just washed âem. Like clothes. With the soap and theâuh. You know. Laundry stuff.â
You jabbed a finger at him. âI told you not to touch the delicates! Thereâs a whole basket just forâoh my God, is this a wedgie or a medical emergency?â
You twisted, trying to unstick the pants from your ass. Every part of you squeaked with friction. It felt like denim shrink-wrapped around your soul.
And the worst part was Daryl - just standing there, staring, like heâd never seen woman in his life.
Fuck, you thought. Heâs got his sex face on.
âDonât,â you warned. âNot one word from you.
He took another step back, hand raised in surrender, but the smirk on his face betrayed him. âAinât sayinâ nothinâ. Justâyâknow. That shirtâs workinâ real hard, is all.â
âYou ruined my entire wardrobe!â you screamed. âLook at me! I mean I canât go out like this!â
Daryl dear-in-headlights Dixon, ever the poet, only grunted in response and you swore he had a bit of drool on him. Well that and the tent he was pitching in his jeans.
You sighed, defeated, dragging your jacket from the hook. âYouâre doing my laundry forever now.â
"Yes, ma'am." His voice was low, quiet as if he hadnât meant to speak.
"I swear to God," you added, pulling your belt tight,"if i so much as bend over my pants are gonna rip.
Daryl was still staring. Eyes glued to your hips like a man possessed.
Before he could say something crass, you flipped him off, storming out the door-pants too tight, shirt too short, and a boyfriend absolutely no help at all. Well that is with laundry anyway.
At first, not going to lie, Jett didn't really see cheerleading as a sport.
No hate on you, of course!! She's just spent 15-20 years playing a really demanding sport, and she has a hard time comprehending "dancing around" (in her words) as being a sport. She also wouldn't call any sort of dance a sport, either, and she'd be on the fence about gymnastics.
It's only once you join the Thorns cheerleaders that she really starts paying attention.
It helps that you're... rather pretty in uniform.
You've had a crush on Jett since you first saw her on your television screen performing a slamdunk. It's been your dream to cheer for the Thorns, and now here you are!!
Jett thinks it's absolutely adorable how nervous you are meeting the team. Like, she can't stop smiling as you stumble over your words speaking to them all.
Now, during halftimes, her eyes are glued to you. Is she purring? No. No... Okay, maybe a little.
She watches you shout and jump and do all these flips and moves that she's not sure she could attempt even on a good day. Her back hurts just watching you.
Okay, she really needs to start doing research on cheerleading.
She wants to talk to you so bad, but she's also terrified. She hasn't been in any relationship at all since she took up roarball.
She's worried that the idea of being in the spotlight constantly will scare you off. Plus, she's not even sure if you like girls like that.
She was ready to just wallow in her feelings and keep it to herself until Will noticed how much she stared at you. From there, he talked with the rest of the team, and they were more than ready to be her wingmen/women/whatever Modo identifies as. (Honestly, they all thought her getting a girlfriend would finally make her chill out for once.)
Dennis was even getting in on it - he started drafting more plays that showed Jett off and was pushing her closer to the edge of the court, more specifically closer to where you always sat off to the side when you weren't cheering.
The whole team started talking up Jett to you, not that she needed talking up in the first place.
You had to be the one to approach Jett, eventually. She was totally cool and not at all freaked out the whole time talking to you. It was like a reverse of when you first met - you cool and collected, her stumbling over her words.
You asked her out on a first date to Whiskers (Will's idea), somewhere comfortable and in town without being too private.
The media circus takes notice immediately, but Jett is already too proud of you to back down.
"Yeah, I went on a date. With a girl. Our cheerleader. What of it?"
If you ask nicely, I'm sure she'll gift you her hoodie to wear before and after halftime shows. It smells like her.
She's really bad at this whole dating thing due to inexperience, but for you? She's trying really hard to be better, she wants to be better.
Just don't laugh at her too much for being an old lady when it comes to romance, okay?
Yes, she purrs in her sleep while you guys are cuddling. No, you're not allowed to bring it up.
Doesn't use a lot of petnames, but will occasionally call you "babe"/"baby". She'll blush at any petname you give her, though.
Brings you up often during interviews. You may be her cheerleader, but she's always going to be your biggest supporter.
Thinking aboutâŠ. Chris is like 16 and Buck and Eddie get married in a friends to married way and they asked if Chris was okay with it and he said yeah because maybe some big Event had just happened and he was caught up in the relief and love of the moment but now it's been a few months and he's having some weird feelings about it that he's not sure he's allowed to have because he already gave his approval. It's justâŠ. He didn't even know his dad liked men. Which is fine! It's whatever! Eddie just never told him about it. And Chris doesn't know if it's just men or just Buck or if he likes girls still too or what that means for his mom or even like. Ana or Marisol. Or Kim. Like what is his dad's problem. Is he going to fuck up and drive Buck away too? ButâŠ. He looks so happy. Chris isn't sure he's ever in his life seen Eddie this relaxed and happy and that feels weird too because⊠was he not enough? And Chris loves Buck, of course he does, but like. As a dad? Buck is suddenly his dad now? And like everyone was clear he doesn't have to call him dad or anything but like that's what all this means, right?
And then like⊠they're doing a geology unit in school and they learn about tsunamis and of course the LA tsunami is used as an example and Chris says he was on the pier and the teacher saysâŠ. Well you must have been pretty little when that happened, I'm sure you're misremembering where you were and Chris is like no Buck threw me in a prize booth. It smelled like popcorn. There was a bright purple teddy bear. And the teacher looks like shocked and disturbed and as they learn more about what happened exactly and the death toll and Chris remembers Buck was on blood thinners back then he's like. How in the fuck did we survive that.
So heâs just⊠thinking about buck a lot and how he fits into his life and the demonstrable extreme lengths heâd go to for Chris and heâs feeling even more guilty that heâs not just purely happy that theyâre a real family on paper now and he's carrying around this gratitude and fear about this event that he lived through but maybe didn't understand the specifics of until now and then he overhears Buck and Eddie having an argument (Buck: just- will you fucking listen to me? How many times do I have to tell you that? God- don't roll your eyes at me-) and is like catastrophizing that it's over and all these mixed feelings were for nothing, and then some of his cool new high school friends have those electric bikes and one of them asks him if Chris wants to ride behind them on the seat and Chris is like. Fuck it. Yeah. But it takes more strength/coordination than he thought even just to be a passenger and he ends up falling off and breaking his arm and at first he's begging his friends not to call 911 and they're like uh dude we're absolutely calling 911 and Chris is like fine just- just don't say my name! And when they get to the hospital he asks them to call Buck and not Eddie (as soon as they got married they got everybody on everyone else's paperwork as much as they could) and the doctor dismisses that request initially but one of his friends who stuck around is like uh hey that's not cool if he's on the paperwork it should be fine right you should listen to him! And the doctor is like well fine I guess and Chris is grateful to the friend but also fucking angry and just. Embarrassed that he didn't get listened to and it's maybe because he's a teenager but probably because they saw a kid who speaks and moves differently and figured he couldn't make any choices for himself. So he's sitting there stewing and his arm fucking hurts and Dad is going to be so so mad at him and it's nice that his friend stuck around but he doesn't even know her that well and she's obviously getting kind of bored and this is the worst day ever and then Buck appears. Hisses air through his teeth. Oh bud, looks like you've had a rough one, huh.
And Chris nods and tries not to immediately start crying and Buck tells the friend he's got it from here and sits with him and asks what happened and likeâŠ. Chris has a moment of realizing that Buck knows he was the one who got called because Chris thinks of him as the⊠not-really dad. And Buck sees Chris having this realization and is like oh kid it's okay, Eddie is your dad first and is always going to be, it's okay that it's different with me, I'm just so glad to be a part of your family in any way I am. And anyway I'm the cool one he's gonna have a fit when he hears about this. And Chris laughs a little and then starts crying harder and Buck's like aw.. Chris, he's just going to be mad because he's worried⊠he loves you so muchâŠ.
And they also kind of get intoâŠ. Buck got himself hurt a lot as a kid and some of it was intentional self harm but some of it really was just because he was a dumb kid having fun! He thinks that's important! Chris should also get to be a dumb kid who has fun! But says likeâŠ. âAny time you're going to do something that could maybe get you hurt I just want you to remember that I love you, and Eddie loves you, no matter what.â
And maybe they talk about the tsunami a little and Chrisâ feelings in general about Buck and the marriage and Chris cries again (ugh) because he's realizing⊠he really does love Buck so so so much, he really is also his dad, a lot of the weird feelings were partly just fear that this was temporary or didn't mean as much to anyone else as it means to Chris, but of course this is forever of course Buck LOVES his kid!! Chris is his kid he loves him SO much!!!!
Enough to soft launch the injury over the phone while Chris gets the cast out on (hellooooo my beloved, my dearest one, love of my life, okay don't freak out there's just one broken bone and it isn't even broken that badly!) and to be a buffer as Eddie comes rocketing in half an hour later, and they all eventually head home together and Buck and Eddie have resolved whatever fight they had and they're both fussing over Chris and Chris and Eddie talk about Buck, and happiness (oh, mijo.. you canât- happiness canât come all from one person. Youâve never made me sad, it wasnât your fault if I wasnât- I just needed a partner, an adult, someone to, you know, romantically love and be loved by that i wasnât forcing myself to choose because it felt like the right choice) and Eddie's sexuality and stuff and⊠I dunno, yeah, I just think Chris has a lot of big big feelings!! He's a teen! Heâs got a whole life heâs living with his own thoughts and feelings and problems! He's been through so much!!!! This family all loves each other so much but they're all often kind of bad at explaining that to each other!! They'll get there eventually though!!
