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mama2bears · 3 months ago

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Starting Over Again - Chapter 4

Pairings: Tyler Owens/Female Reader

Warning: Injury, Tornado, a few swear words, near death of character

A/N: The words to the songs used in this story is “River and Highway” by Pam Tillis and “Starting Over” by Chris Stapleton. I don't own any of the lyrics or songs.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The sound of a door closing startles you awake.

“Morning!” Tyler smiles at you, holding a bag of something that smelled amazing.

“What is that I smell?” you ask, sitting up.

Tyler sits next to you on the bed as he pulls out the to go boxes, “We have a good 'ol Oklahoma breakfast here! Chicken Fried Steak with scrambled eggs and biscuits and gravy .There's donuts, cookies, sticky buns, and chips in the truck along with plenty of water for snacks.”

He gives you your box and hurries over to the dresser in the room, “I also got us coffee and orange juice. Cream or sugar for the coffee?” he asked.

“Oh...um...both.” you answer looking over the food, “Do you always eat this big for breakfast?”

“Only on days that we are planning to be out chasing most of the day. Might not be enough time to stop for lunch, so we fill up with a big breakfast and bring plenty of snacks.”

“Thank you. This all smells amazing.” you start to eat as the room grows silent.

“I am sorry about last night.” you broke the silence, you're eyes meeting Tyler's.

“What are you sorry about?” he asked.

“I am sorry I woke you up. Sorry I cried all over you.” you gave a small smile, “Sorry I unloaded my ugly past on you.”

“Don't be sorry.” he smiled softly, “I didn't mind.” he paused as he thought about his next words. Should he tell her the truth, that he believed he was falling in love with her, that he wanted to get to know her better, that he wanted more nights of her falling asleep safely in his arms? Or, should he play it safe, not knowing how she feels, wanting to give her time to move at her own pace, what felt comfortable for her..finally, he gave a small smile, “What are friends for, right?”

“Right,” you smile at him. You're both relieved and a bit saddened.. At least you knew how he felt about you now. You were friends, and that's how it should be, at least for now. You only met him yesterday. Sure, he was easy on the eyes and you felt at home wrapped in his arms...but he was a friend. You were still married to an abusive husband that may or may not be tracking you down right now. You honestly couldn't pin point exactly how you felt about Tyler. Your heart was screaming you loved him, but your mind was saying take it slow, you don't even know him. This was how you got into trouble with Lee. You were lonely and looking for love and fell for the wrong guy. You did not want to make THAT mistake again.

“Anyway, I think I got the room situation straightened out.” he stated after a moment of silence. “They gave us the wrong room yesterday. There is a couple here on vacation and they only needed one bed. They accidentally got our double room and we got the king one. We're going to pack our stuff up this morning and by the time we come back tonight they will have the rooms switched for us,” he paused, “That is if you are still okay sharing a room...”

“Yeah, that's fine,” you give him a smile.

“Great, I'll start loading up the truck and we can hit the road.”

“What's the plan for today?” You try not to notice how tight his black shirt was fitted over his chest, try not think about how he looked dripping wet or how warm and safe he felt as he held you close to him.

“You and me are going to ride together. I've got a laptop with weather radar set up in the truck. Help us track the storms, take video and photos. Boone and Lily are going to be in the other truck filming as well. Dexter and Dani will bring up the rear in the RV. Dexter is going to be helping track the storms with the systems in the RV.”

“Sounds exciting.” you nodded, eager to get started on your first day being a storm chaser.

“What's the biggest tornado you ever been in?” he asked.

“Not many big tornadoes in Tennessee.” you said, “Probably would have been an F3 that hit downtown Nashville. My mom and I were there on a weekend trip to see the Grand Ol Opry when it came though. There was an F5 during that weekend as well, but it was farther away from where we were staying. It was known as the Forgotten F5 because of the lack of news coverage. Everyone covered the tornado that hit downtown Nashville because it was so unusual for a large tornado to strike a downtown area, actually, it was the first F3 tornado to hit a downtown area in twenty years.”

“Were you scared?” he asked softly.

“Terrified! I was only a kid and I was already scared of storms...that only enhanced my fear. We had to run and take shelter in a building. Windows were breaking, glass littered the downtown streets, the sky was so dark it was like night.”

“Yet, here you are...a storm chaser chasing tornadoes...riding your fears!” he grinned.

“Riding your fears...what exactly does that mean?”

“It means you don't just face your fears, you jump in and conquer them. You can't just run and hide from it. You learn from your fears. In the case of tornadoes, we face them head on to try to learn about them, and prevent more people from getting hurt.”

“Makes sense.” you nodded, “are you scared of the storms?”

He was silent for a moment before answering, “Yes...and no. I am not scared of anything happening to me. I know the risks and I take them. I make it fun. I am scared for my team though, for those I care about...” he looks you in the eye, “I am scared for all the people in the path of the storm. We can't always stop a tornado, we can't always predict when and where it's going to hit. Sometimes, we miss it. Sometimes we are too late. That is what I fear.”

You nodded as you finished your breakfast, “That's why I wanted to get into weather. I was terrified of storms as a child, but as I got older I learned to love them. I loved the beauty and power of storms, but I hated the devastation they caused. I wanted to help find a way to warn people and to help people.”

“Well, you're in the right place then.” He grinned, “ready to ride your fears?”

“Defiantly.” you give him a smile back, feeling confident about the day and your decision to come to Oklahoma.

* * * * *

Lee sat staring at his computer, “I will find you, Y/N. I swear, you can't hide from me forever.”

He typed in your name again and was about to give up, not finding any results until...

“Who's the new mystery girl with the Wranglers?”

Lee clicked the link and found varies videos and photos from fans for a group called The Tornado Wranglers, who currently appeared to be in Oklahoma.

There, he found a picture of a woman standing next to a red Dodge Ram with a bunch of equipment attached to it. To Lee it looked like one of them tornado trucks.

“Who's the new mystery girl with the Wranglers?” the poster asked.

“She just showed up yesterday, I saw her and Tyler at a restaurant. They haven't introduced her yet. Maybe she's a girlfriend?” another poster stated.

Lee zoomed in on the photo and grinned, “So...Oklahoma.” he muttered, “not far enough. Not far enough at all.” he clicked on the link that lead him to the Tornado Wranglers YouTube channel.

After a few videos, he figured out that the team was currently in El Reno Oklahoma and the photos from the fans proved it was differently his Y/N hanging out with them.

* * * * *

“Any leads yet?” Tyler asked you as the team drove though a lonely country road. So far, the day had not seen much action.

“Here, just west of here.” you point on the radar, “it looks to be getting high and that hook is forming.”

Tyler glances at the radar and nods in agreement, “Dexter, what about that cell just to the west?”

“I am watching that one, Ty. Looks promising. What does Y/N think?” he called back.

Tyler flashed you a grin, “Ah, she agrees! That's where we're heading!”

You smiled to yourself as you looked out the window at the building storm. You were happy to have made a good decision, a step in the right direction, proving that you did know a little something about storms.

“THERE!”you shout, We got a funnel!” You pull out your camera and start filming the development of the twister.

“Hang on...we're going in!” Tyler grinned, jerking the truck to the right and though an open field.

You let out a scream of surprise and grab for the dash, “What the hell do you mean we're GOING IN!”

“Ride your fears baby, ride your fears!” Tyler yelled out, parking a mere feet from the now fully developed tornado, “Look at her! She's beauty!” he screamed over the roaring winds, but he was looking more at you then the tornado as he mashed the button, anchoring the truck to the ground. “Hang on!” he yelled.

You hold the video camera with one hand, keeping a death grip on the dashboard with the other. You couldn't believe what was happening. The tornado was going to go right over you.

“Tyler, is this SAFE?” you yell.

“Sure it is! This looks to be a EF2, maybe EF3. Depends on the damage it does. This truck is good up to EF4.”

And then the truck was surrounded by a whirling black cloud, debris bouncing off the metal with big thuds, pops, and bangs. The roaring of the wind and the shaking of the truck felt and sounded like a freight train running right over you.”

And just like that, as quickly as it started...it was over.

You looked at Tyler with a huge grin, “Oh my GOD! That was a freaking tornado! We were INSIDE of a TORNADO!” you shouted.

“Nothing like it, now is there?” he flashed you a grin.

“Thank you...” you smile at him.

“For what?” he asked, “putting you in the path of a tornado?”

“For giving me a chance...for giving me this experience..for being there.” You shrugged. You didn't know how to put into words everything you were feeling. This man gave you a job without even knowing if you were telling the truth. He was willing to give up his hotel room so you could be comfortable. He held you in his arms last night when you woke up screaming from a nightmare. He has done everything he could since you met him to make sure you were safe and taken care of. Then, he gives you the experience of a lifetime by driving directly into a tornado.

“Anytime, Darling.” Tyler smiled at you, “This tornado seemed to be a little short lived, but lets drive though town and make sure everyone is okay. If the radar still looks quiet we could grabs some dinner.”

“Sounds good.” you agreed.

“We're taking a ride though town, make sure everyone is okay. If all is good and radar is quiet we'll grab something to eat.” Tyler called over the radio as the trio of vehicles made a turn into town.

As you rode though the town, gazing out the window, you were thankful that it appeared that the only damage was to some trees and power lines, maybe some roof shingles and windows. Everyone looked to be okay.

“What you see on radar?” he asked you.

“Not much of anything. All the storms seemed to have died out for the day.”

“Let's call it a day, guys.” Tyler radioed, then looked at you, “Can I take you somewhere?” he asked.

“Sure.” you shrugged.

“I am going to take Y/N for a little tour and lunch. How about we meet up back at the hotel later tonight and we'll make our plan for tomorrow?”

“Sounds good Ty.” Lily confirmed.

“See you tonight.” Dani agreed.

“Hey, don't do anything I wouldn't do!” Boone yelled into the radio, making you blush a little.

“Idiot.” Tyler laughed.

“There's a sandwich shop on up the road here, do you mind if we take it to go?”

“No, not at all.”

Tyler pulled into the parking lot and hurried around the truck, opening the door for you before you had the chance. He started to reach for your hand as you walked towards the little shop, but decided against it. You hadn't lend him to believe you wanted anything more then friends, but he was determined to be there if and when you changed your mind. He stepped a bit ahead of you instead and opened the door to the shop.

“What will it be?” he asked as you two looked over the menu above the counter.

“All American sub with mayo.” you answer

Tyler placed the order for the two sandwiches, drinks and chips and you two walk back to the truck.

“So, where are you taking me?” You asked when he opened the truck door for you again.

“To a little slice of heaven on Earth.” he grinned, giving you a wink, “It's only a few miles up the road.”

Within minutes, Tyler turned next to a sign that read 'Lake El Reno Park'

“There's a creek that runs into this lake, called Fourmile Creek” he told you.

“Let me guess...it's four miles long.” you grin.

“Yep!” Tyler smiled, “It feeds into the lake and there's a bridge that goes over the river...” he paused, “It's just a nice place for a picnic I thought.”

“Sounds beautiful.” you smile as he parks and collects the food bag and a blanket. You open the door and get out this time before he gets around to open it for you.

“Hey...that's my job,” he pretended to pout.

“I am a big girl and I know how to open my own doors.” you stated.

“But I like to open them for you.”

“Alright, next time.” you agree.

Tyler spreads the blanket down and you set out the sandwiches, chips and drinks and take a seat next to him.

“Oh...one more thing I forgot.” he grabbed his keys and sprinted back to the truck. A moment later he returned with a guitar.

“You sing?” she asked.

“I try.” he laughed. “There's a old country song that this place reminds me of.” he said, strumming a few cords. “Um, here, let me just sing a few verses for you.” he starts playing the music and softly sings

And he rolls, he's a highway. Where he goes, time will tell. Heaven knows, she can't go with him. And he rolls, all by himself. All by himself.

But every now and then, He offers her a shoulder. And every now and then She overflows. And every now and then A bridge crosses over. It's a moment, every lover knows.

And she rolls She's a river Where she goes Time will tell.

Tyler trailed off seeing a tear roll down your cheek.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asked, setting the guitar to the side, “I am sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.”

“No...no you didn't. It's a beautiful song, one I have loved for a long time.” you whisper then smile at him. “I never figured you for the romantic type.”

He shrugs it off picking up his sandwich, “Aw, it's just that I can kinda relate to the song is all.”

“Is there a special someone in your life? Or was there?” you ask, almost afraid of the answer.

He locks his eyes on yours, “There hasn't been. I dated...a lot...but there hasn't been that special someone..” he wanted to say, 'until now.' but he decided to hold it in, for now.

You both finish your lunch and make small talk about the chase of that day and team. Tyler cleans up the trash and sits back down next to you.

“It's so peaceful and quiet out here.” he said softly, watching the sun go lower on the horizon.

“Yeah, it is.” you agree, “I miss this. Before Lee, I used to love hiking though the mountains, or taking a quiet boat ride on the lake. Some days I would go into the woods, climb up in a tree and just read a book.”

“I'd like to do that sometime.” Tyler turned and locked his eyes on yours, “with you. Maybe you can take me to Tennessee and show me the mountains you loved, or we can spend the day cruising a lake. Maybe I could take you up to the Ozark Mountains around my home town.”

“I'd like that.” you smiled.

“One more song before we head back?” he asked picking up the old guitar. “There's another one that seems to be running though my head. Sometimes...I can say what I want in a song better then I can words.”

“Really? I am the same way. The song speaks to what I am feeling and can't say.”

Tyler strums a few cords and smiles softly at you, “You are the only person I have met that understands that. OK, so here it goes.."

And it don't matter to me Wherever we are is where I wanna be And honey, for once in our life Let's take our chances and roll the dice I can be your lucky penny You can be my four-leaf clover Starting over

This might not be an easy time There's rivers to cross and hills to climb Some days we might fall apart And some nights might feel cold and dark

But nobody wins, afraid of losing And the hard roads are the ones worth choosing Someday we'll look back and smile And know it was worth every mile

He lays the guitar down and reaches for your hand, “Y/N. I am sorry about this morning.”

You frown, “What about this morning?”

“I referred to us as friends.” he sighed, “We are friends, always will be. I'd like to be something more with you though. That's what I am trying to say in these songs because Lord knows I am not good with words and I am not good at showing my feelings. I know we only met yesterday, but I believe in love at first sight. I knew I was going to love you the moment you stepped off that bus. There was a connection there and I can't explain it. We'll take this as slow as you want, I am not going anywhere.” his eyes glistened with tears, “I hate that you've been hurt in the past. I wish I was there to save you then, but I am here now. I swear I will never do anything intentionally to hurt you. I'd like for us to date, hang out, whatever you want to call it. I want to be with you as much as you will have me. I want us to be a team, to be friends, and to be more...when you are ready.”

“I want that too.” you whisper, “I never felt this way about anyone. Not even Lee. I was lonely and scared and looking for love and I thought I was in love with him...but now that I've met you...I can't explain what this feeling is. It's so much more then I have ever felt before for anyone. I feel safe with you. I feel comfortable with you. You feel like home, and when I say that, I mean the home I grew up in. A home that was my safe place. A home where I was loved and felt like I belonged. I haven't known a home in a very long time, but I believe I have found it with you.”

Tyler leaned in slowly and paused, waiting for your permission. Waiting to see if you would lean in or pull away. His eyes gazed into yours and you felt butterflies in your stomach as you leaned forward and brushed your lips against his. He wrapped his arms around you and deepened the kiss.

A clap of thunder made you jump as lighting streaked across the sky.

“Well, I knew there sparks between us, but that was amazing.” Tyler grinned, standing up and helping you up. “Let's get to the truck before the skies open up.”

Tyler holds the blanket and guitar with one hand and your hand with the other as you both run for the truck.

“Where's the keys?” he asked checking his pocket where they were suppose to be.

You look around the ground and inside the truck and spot the keys and cell phone on the backseat.

“Tyler...those keys?” you grin.

“Oh no. no. no. no.” he pulls on the doors but they were locked.

“Okay,” he sighed, “You got your phone? We'll call someone out here to unlock the truck. I must have left them there on the seat when I got the guitar.”

“My phone is in the truck. I didn't think there was a reason to bring it just for a picnic. I am sorry.” you muttered as the rain began to pour down.

“It's okay.” he wrapped you in a hug, but looked at the sky with concern.

The air pressure was changing and you picked up on it too. Wind swirled around you and suddenly from inside the truck you heard the alerts go off on your phones.

Tyler quickly scanned the area for a safe place to go. “There!” he pointed to a ditch next to the river, “Go!”

He runs behind you pushing you towards the ditch as debris fly around. “Down!” he yelled over the roaring winds as he pushes you into the ditch, throwing his body over yours and pushing you as close to the ground as he could. He covered your head with one arm and kept the other arm wrapped around you. “Just hang on, it's going to be okay!” he promised.

You hear trees snapping in half, feel the pounding of the rain, you feel the wind trying to suck you up...and suddenly, Tyler screams out in pain and you feel his body get shoved against yours.

“TYLER!” You scream grabbing his arm that was still tightly holding you. “TYLER! YOU OK?”

“I am okay.” he promised as he gasped for air, “I think it was a tree that fell on top of us. You okay?” he asked. He felt what he assumed to be sharp broken off branches cutting deep into his leg, the weight of the tree pinned against his back.

“Yeah, I am okay.” you told him as the winds finally calmed down. The rain continued to beat down in sheets. Tyler was laying against you gasping for air.

“Tyler?” you were worried when he didn't move. Were you trapped? How badly was he injured?

Tyler laid there, feeling the blood running down his leg. He knew he couldn't get himself out, but he was damn sure going to do whatever he could to get you out.

“I am stuck here pretty good.” He finally answered, not wanting to concern you, “I am going to try to left up a little. I want you to get out from under me and go get help.”

“Tyler, no...I can't leave you.”

“Y/N...I don't know if there's more twisters out here or not. This rain pouring down could lead to flooding. The river is literally right next to us. I will be okay, we just need some help lifting this.”His body collapsed against yours as he worked to catch his breath again and you knew there was something more serious wrong.

“OK.” you agree, knowing that you weren't going to leave him, but also not wanting to waste his energy arguing about it.

“Ready?” he gasped, fighting against the pain. He had to remain conscious, at least until he knew you were free.

“Ready.” you answered.

Tyler screamed in pain as he pushed up against the tree and collapsed back against you. “Too heavy.” he gasped his body seemed to go limp.

“Tyler...stay with me.” you pleaded, trying to wiggle enough room to at least turn around and look at him and see how badly he was injured.

“I'm here.” he muttered, “just...need...to rest.”

You both lay in silence for a moment, the unrelenting rain washing over you. The rain was so intense that at first you didn't notice the water filling the ditch. It wasn't much, but you could tell it was raising.

“Tyler...water. We got to get out of here.”

Panic raced though his body. Water was filling the ditch, it was flooding...and he had you pinned face down. He was trying to protect you...now he was your death trap. He had to move, even if it killed him. He had to ignore the pain and move so you could be free.

“Y/N..listen to me.” he gasped. “I am going to move this thing.” he paused catching his breath.”You don't worry about me. You fight, you get out of here. You will drown if you stay pinned under me, and that in itself will kill me. I will NOT be a cause of pain for you. You get out of here and get help. Please Y/N...I need to know you will be alright.”

“Okay, I will.” you promise though the tears, “Tyler...I love you. I love you like I have never loved before.”

He laid his face against yours and kissed your cheek softly, “I love you too baby girl. Hang on, we will get through this. We will get through this and I will show you the love you deserve.” he choked back his own tears, trying to hide the pain in his voice. He didn't think he was going to get out of this one, but he dame sure was going to try.

Tyler took a deep breath, “Okay, on the count of three. I lift and you get out of here..one...two..THREE!” he lifted with all his might, ignoring the pain raging though his body.

If anything good was coming from the rising water, it was making the ground softer. You pulled and felt yourself sliding free. “I am out!” You yelled, scrambling to your feet as quickly as possible.

Tyler collapsed back to the ground, now having to raise his head to keep it above water as he gasped for air. “Go...go get help.” he pleaded as his eyes drifted close and he slumped face first into the ever rising water.

“NO! TYLER!” You hold his head above water, “please, you gotta stay with me. Help me...I need you to help me.”

He moaned hearing your voice calling to him. You needed him. He had to fight to stay awake. “I am here.” he muttered.

“I am going to try to move this tree and free you. Stay with me..hold your head up for me so I can try to free you.”

“Hmm hmm.” he muttered.

“TYLER!” you screamed.

He jolted awake.”I am here. I am here.”

“We gotta hurry, the water is rushing in now, but it might help me to move this off of you.” you looked at the mangled tree that was pinning his waist to the ground.

Tyler nodded, holding his head as far up as he could. You push against the tree, going with the flow of the water. Tyler screams out in pain but you keep pushing, you can't stop. If you stop, he drowns.

Slowly the tree shifts, and Tyler is able to roll over on his back and start to pull himself out, but suddenly the tree rolls back, crashing into his chest and completely pinning him under the rushing water.

“Oh God no! TYLER!” You scream, trying to lift his head up, but the water is just too deep and the tree was pined against his chest.

He was glad for one thing, the water was washing the tears in his eyes away. This was it..this was how he was going to die. He was going to drown. He always figured it would be a tornado that took him out, but he never thought about a flood. His heart broke for you. All the pain that your husband had put you though, he thought maybe he could be a chance at happiness for you...now, he would just be the cause of more pain. His lungs screamed for air and his final thought was at least he protected you from the tornado. He could only pray that you would find safety from this flood...he wished he could be there with you, holding you in his arms and comforting you. He wished he could still protect you...and then nothing but blackness.

“NO!!!!” you scream, feeling him go limp in your arms. You struggle to hold on to him, struggle to free him. Suddenly the tree shifted in the current and and you pulled with everything that was within. You felt him come free and you struggle to pull him out of the water and away from the ditch.

“Tyler...” you cried, feeling for a pulse and not finding none...”You can't leave me...” you yell, placing your palms over his heart and doing 30 compressions. You pinched his nose closed, tilting his head back and covered his lips with yours, blowing in two breaths before going back to compressions ....one...two..three you counted until reaching 30 again.

You check again for a pulse. There was none.

Giving him two more breaths you continue the compressions with tears streaming down your face, mixing with the pounding rain.

Suddenly Tyler gasped and started coughing. Quickly you turn him over to his side and hold him as he coughs up water.

“Tyler..” you cry, rubbing your hand along his arm...he continues coughing and gasping, spitting up more water and then lets his body collapse back against you. “Ty...” you hold him close to you, running your hand though his hair.

“You okay?” he asked, opening his green eyes to gaze up at you.

“You DIE on me, and you asking if I AM okay?” you laugh though the tears.

“Well...” Tyler was gasping for air still, pain etched into his face, “are you?”

“I'll be okay when you're okay.” you tell him, checking him over for injures. You spot the blood soaking though his jeans from a large gash in his leg. “I gotta go to the truck and get that blanket. You need something to slow the bleeding on your leg.” you tell him, but he doesn't answer.

“No...Ty.” fear grips you as you quickly check for a pulse, breathing with relief when you find one. Quickly you run to the truck and back to Tyler, wrapping the blanket around his leg as tightly as you could, keeping your hand pressed against it. “Hang in there,” you whisper, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“You all okay?” You hear someone yell. It was a police officer out checking the streets after the storm.

“NO! We need help! We need an ambulance. He has a bad cut on his leg.” you yell, not willing to leave Tyler's side.

“Ambulance is on it's way ma'am.” the officer told her.

“Sir, one more thing...could you tell the Tornado Wranglers at El Reno Inn that Tyler Owens is hurt and heading to the hospital? That's our storm chaser team. They will be looking for us. The names are Lily, Dani, Dexter, and Boone.”

The officer wrote down the names, “Will do.” he nodded.

* * * * *

Chapter 5

******

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#tyler owens x reader #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens fic #twisters fic #twisters fanfic #twisters x reader

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novlr · 1 year ago

Text

How to write the cold

The way we feel cold is universal, but the way we contextualise it is not. Cold has a variety of connotations for readers, so it's important to decide how to use it, and what mood you want to convey in your scene.

While cold is often associated with negative aspects in writing, if there's anything the winter season teaches us, is that it can be a positive thing as well. Rather than just using the word cold, in your next writing project, try to contextualise it. Describe the weather, the light on the snow, the comfort of warmth after an icy swim, or the fear and loneliness of the dark on a cold night.

Here are our quick tips on how to write the cold:

In nature

Clean mountain air

Glittering ice crystals

Unique wildlife, like snow hares or polar bears

Snow muffled sounds

Steam rising from hot springs

Icy water in rivers and lakes

Overcast and rainy

Bright sun on fresh snow

Icebergs, glaciers, and ice floes

Storms and blizzards

Branches moving and creaking

Frozen ponds

Morning frost on grass

Snowdrops pushing through snowdrifts

Crisp and clear night skies

Wolves howling in the dark

Bare branches scraping against windows

Eerie shadows

Foods and objects

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg

Heavy winter coats and scarves

Rich, hot meals with lots of gravy

Tea or coffee left out too long

Ice-cream, sorbets, or ice-lollies

Metal that is cold to the touch (like pots and pans or door handles)

Cold beverages straight out of the fridge

An icy bath

Freezer trucks or walk-in refrigerators

Dry ice

Crisp, fresh sheets on cold nights

Ice sculptures

A tap with a drip that freezes in place

Frozen celebratory drinks (like daiquiris)

A single cube of ice floating in a whisky glass

A cold pack for an injury

Character moods

Isolated

Lonely

Aloof

Sad

Comfortable

Snuggly

Focused

Panicked

Indifferent

A lack of affection

Calm and calculated

Disengaged

Serene

Depressed

Awestruck

Anxious

Reverent

Melancholy

Nostalgic

Impatient

Frustrated

Reflective

Character body language

Hunched shoulders

Crossed arms

Shivering

Snuggling into something warm

Rub hands together for warmth

Tight or strained expression

Biting dry lips

Furrowing brow

Glaring against brightness

Tense and rigid stance

Stand close to others

Slow, deliberate steps

Move quickly to somewhere warm

Sitting relaxed in a warm space

Actions and events

Start a fire or build a shelter

Winter hikes

Outdoor activities like skating, skiing, or sledding

Traffic jams or snowed in cars

Frozen lakes cracking underfoot

Dodging icicles falling from rooftops

Going ice-fishing

Long sea voyages

Frostbite

Suffering from a cold, the flu, or pneumonia

Brainfreeze

Snuggling under a warm duvet

Sipping from a steaming hot drink for comfort

Cold-water swimming

Walking to work in the rain

Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere

Chrismas in July in the Southern Hemisphere

Reading a good book by the fire while it snows outside

Positive aspects

While cold is often associated with negative emotions, using it as a juxtaposition can often help to accentuate the positive feelings you want to convey.

If it's cold outside, a character enjoying a hot chocolate under their duvet will give a much more positive impression than if they were simply staying in bed.

The beauty of the natural world in winter, like snow, ice, and winter foliage can also be used to create a scene of happiness and wonder.

Negative aspects

Cold is often used to describe characters who are emotionally detached, calculating, or generally unfeeling. It's become an easy way to clue your readers in to how they're meant to feel about your character.

There are also more creative ways to use the cold, however, like describing the disappointment of forgetting about a hot drink you put down somewhere and only remembering when it's already gone cold, or the feeling of shock after you first step out of a warm shower.

Helpful synonyms

chilly

frigid

icy

wintry

frosty

cool

nippy

freezing

glacial

brisk

chilled

cool

polar

bitter

snowy

raw

refrigerated

arctic

rimy

draughty

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mj0702 · 5 months ago

Text

Here's something for you @tasha95 ... as usual I got carried away 😅😅

There was something calm in the Bronze-Batlle household this afternoon. Lucy was out for some charity work and Ona agreed to keep an eye on you and you got a VERY strong “briefing” from Lucy to behave for Ona and if you acted out Lucy would take it upon herself to make you pay for it. So you did your best to be as quiet as possible which caused Ona to grow suspicious of your behaviour – every time she came into the room you basically scrambled to get out of said room.

“Okay... what is going on with you today” Ona cut your exit so you ran straight into her

“Nothing” you mumbled quickly trying to push past her

“Bebita... I thought we came to the agreement that we wouldn’t lie to each other... so...” the spaniard raised her eyebrow

“Lucy said I have to stay outta your way and not cause trouble” you mumbled not meeting the spaniards eyes

“Oh Bebita... I know you like to do your own thing and IF Mapí would be here I would agree... BUT... you are always so good for me... you don’t cause trouble with me...” Ona said softly “... don’t run away from me”

“I’m... not running...” you said defiantly

“Bebita...” the spaniard sighed

“I’m just doing what Lucy said” you took a step back from your sisters girlfriend

“Since when?” Ona snorted “Come here... I need some help with my Mandonguilles amb sípia...”

“What’s that?” you perked up always wanting to learn new things

“It’s a Catalonian dish... basically meatballs in gravy” Ona smiled seeing your instant mood change

“Huh... and here I was thinking all you guys eat is fish...” you said skipping past Ona into the kitchen happily “OH EW!!!! ONA!!!”

“Ah... I may have forgotten to mention there’s cuttlefish in it as well” the spaniard sing songed after hearing your disgusted outburst

“Why???” you whined and before you could run off again Ona trapped you between the counter and herself

“It’s traditional...” Ona smiled looking over your shoulder “... you do the meatballs... I’ll prepare the cuttlefish... deal?”

“Yeah deal...” you grumbled quickly retreating to the other end of the kitchen as far away from the offending cuttlefish

“It’s just Fish Bebita” Ona laughed at how quickly you moved away

“It LOOKS at me!!!!” you exclaimed

“Oh you little drama queen” the blonde laughed

“It’s a fact.... it has eyes... it looks at you like Mona Lisa... like it wants to eat your soul” you pointed at the little squids

“Get started on these meatballs..” Ona laughed before starting to expertly starting to clean the cuttlefish

“And now?” you asked 30 minutes later after Ona cleaned the kitchen as good as possible

“Now all is we need to do is fry everything, throw it together and serve” Ona said “... but we’ll do that later when Lucy is back”

“Oh okay” you said a little sad

“What’s wrong Bebita?” the blonde asked carefully

“Can we cook some more?” you asked a little embarrassed

“You like cooking huh?” Ona smiled while pulling out a cookbook

“Lucy always says it’s essential to understand a culture” you shrugged your shoulders

“That’s true... but I think you have a little different reason... you like to cook... you like to create... you are a very creative person and you have a very open and vivid mind” the blonde said the smile never leaving her face “Here... that’s my mamás and abuelas cookbook ... look if you find something you would like to try”

“It’s all in spanish” you whined after you excitedly opened the old looking book

“It’s catalan... I thought you knew the difference by now” Ona deadpanned

“Just because I can talk a little catalan doesn’t mean I can read it” you rolled your eyes

“Come on then... I’ll teach you” the blonde said and pulled you into the living room

“What’s that...” you pointed at a new recipe

“Cargols a la llauna?” Ona grinned “You won’t like it... trust me Bebita”

“But what is it??” you whined getting overwhelmed with all the exciting dishes the country has to offer

“Snails” the blonde spaniard smirked

“Oh you disgusting bastards!!!!!” you exclaimed heaving already

“It’s very traditional... and very tasty if prepared properly” Ona said laughing as she pulled you into her side where you immediately relaxed and sagged against her

“Are you tired Bebita?” Ona asked softly when she felt you getting heavy against her side

“Little bit” you mumbled your eyes already half closed

“Lay down Pequeña” the blonde said her voice low and soft guiding you down so your head was in her lap

You let her do it but whined as soon as you were laying down

“Quin és el problema Bebita?” Ona asked keeping her voice calm

“No cómode” you grumbled trying to get more comfortable

“Want me to lay down with you Bebita?” Ona asked carefully

“sí” you whined and the blonde spaniard maneuvered you around until you were in her arms your back pressed against her front “you comfy” you sighed happily

“Gracias Bebita” Ona chuckled

“Ona?” you mumbled

“sí?” the blonde answered

“I know you don’t know English as well... but the guy who tattooed the “Continue” onto your arm... he ripped you off... or he had dysgraphia..” you mumbled

“Dyswhat?” Ona asked confused

“Dysgraphia... he had problems writing...” you slurred already halfway into dreamland

“He didn’t Bebita... it’s what I wanted” the blonde whispered not wanting to wake you up again

“He turned the i over...” you sighed as Ona started to lightly scratch your head

“It’s a semicolon Pequeña...” Ona said “It has a meaning”

“Whatmeaning” you slurred your breathing evening out

“The semicolon has been a symbol for suicide and mental health awareness, which Project Semicolon initially started. You can get a semicolon tattoo to remind yourself that you’re stronger than anxiety or depression or it can be in memory or support of a friend or loved one...” Ona explained

(I personally thank Tasha for the explanation ♥️♥️)

“You want to end your life too?” you were slightly more awake immediately

“No Bebita... but I struggled with Anxiety when I first came to England” the spaniard answered honestly

“But why??? We’re very friendly” you were awake now

“Not really... English people are very reserved... not as bad as Norwegians but pretty close...” Ona chuckled “... we Spaniards are... different”

“All you don’t know the term personal space... the worst one was Hermoso” you pointed out

“Jenni is... a different level of spanish” the blonde laughed “... but I struggled with the new culture and worse the language barrier...”

“I can see that...” you mumbled deep in thought trying to imagine how baby Ona must have felt

“You really don’t remember do you?” Ona asked

“Remember what?” you asked confused

“You shoulder checked me after the 2021 Derby... and you checked me so hard that my shoulder bruised” the spaniard chuckled seeing how shocked you were

“I didn’t” you said getting stressed

“Calm Bebita... yes you did and no I’m not mad at you” Ona immediately got you to calm down again

“I’m sorry... I don’t remember what I was thinking “ you said very ashamed of yourself

“You mumbled something about stupid reds and stupid spanish and stupid Georgia and bloody last minutes goals” Ona chuckled

“Oh my God... I remember now..” you screeched embarrassed “... you scored in like... 85th...”

“Yeah...” the spaniard laughed as you turned in her arms hiding your face in Onas neck

“It was a mistake from G... she deflected the ball and suddenly you appeared out of nowhere like David fucking Copperfield and scored” you groaned against the spaniards neck

“Yeah... I heard you screaming bloody murder at Georgia over the whole field and I felt so bad for her... she looked so scared and i think Keira had to physically hold you back from not running on the pitch” Ona said her whole body shaking with laughter

“I... I... oh gooooood” you groaned trying to hide even more

“It’s okay Bebita” Ona laughed and started to lightly scratch your lower back “Relax Pequeña”

“I’m so sorry” you whined

“We’re good Bebita... Estabas muy emocionado por perder...” the blonde mumbled feeling how you started relax again “Dormir”

“T’estimo Oni” you mumbled and this time you were out like a light

“T’estimo massa Bebita” Ona whispered noticing you were already dead asleep

#ona batlle x reader #woso image

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myflagmeansace · 6 months ago

Text

Hi all! It's taking a lot longer to caption Samba's BTS improv video, but here's the video without captions and a separate transcript with dialogue tags for now! 😘

Scene 1

Ed is determined to banter about Jeff's Inn by the Sea after gravy basket Hornigold ruined it.

Ed (proudly announcing what he does at the inn): My specialty is seafood. Um and I cook the sea...food.

Stede (completely and earnestly smitten): You cook it perfectly, by the way.

Ed (sweetly accepting his compliment): Thank you! 😊

Stede (so appreciative of his love's fictional cooking skills): I love that.

Ed (remembering how well Stede pours drinks *possibly inspired by the Ed draped across a bar fanart Taika called out in the IMDB The Outfronts interview*): Um and you are the cocktail man.

Stede (so excited about his role): I am the cocktail man!

Ed: Yeah!

Stede (really playing into his role): I make a drink or two.

Ed (a little dazed at imagining Stede as a cocktail man pouring him several drinks): Yep oh yeah! Um and more than two sometimes.

Stede (feeling a little cheeky): Sometimes we get on it, don't we? Yeah!

Ed (picking up on what Stede is putting down but also fuck off Hornigold, Ed is totally a people person at this fictional inn!): Yeah, yeah! You know, we get on it. You work the back of house, I work the front of house.

Stede: Yes!

Ed: Yep.

Stede (recognizing the importance of taking turns, in more than one way 😉): Sometimes I work the front of house.

Ed (agreeing to being a versatile partner): Yeah and then I-you give me a turn working the back.

Stede: Yes.

Ed: Yeah.

Stede (shameless at this point): You like that, don't you?

Ed (a little flustered but keeping his cool): Aw, I mean, I-you know, it's just nice for a change now and then, you know?

Stede (liking the thought of keeping Ed satisfied): Something different. Yeah!

Ed (admitting to himself why he likes working the back): Yeah! It's just nice to be in control.

*Stede proudly gazing at Ed*

Scene 2

Taika: *breaks, closing his eyes and smiling*

Rhys: *wheezing/laughing*

Scene 3

Stede (leaning into his role of cocktail man, expert of drinks): Well imagine us as...a mixed drink.

Ed (absolutely smitten, ready to listen and pressing his finger against his lips to calm the urge to press his lips all over the dork in front of him): I am imagining it!

Stede (really struggling to capture the expertise of a cocktail man because he's more of a gardening guy so he can't think of a drink good enough to compare Ed to so he goes with whatever sounds cool and tough): You're the hard...sort of...

Ed (smile falls and starts feeling sad because Stede is calling him hard when he's really just a soft kitty princess but he'll go along with it because he gets it 😿 he copies his hand gestures to appear agreeable): I'm the hard one.

Stede (sweating bullets):...rustic...

Ed (definitely not liking the word rustic and tucking in his paws, I mean hands): Yeah.

Stede (knowing he’s completely boned it as a cocktail man): Ummm...

Ed (trying to save the moment and compares himself to a rare whiskey): The bitter one like a whiskey.

Stede (agreeing out of desperate relief): Bitter whiskey at the bottom. Yes!

Ed (remembering he doesn't actually like whiskey but he does like rum): Yeeah. Like yes, yeah. I'm like the whiskey or the rum.

Stede (changing the focus to distract Ed from his clumsy cocktail man moment): And I'm the fluffy kind of ✨️epervescent✨️…

(new word alert lol I think he meant effervescent)

Ed (entertained by the word choice): Ohhhh!

Stede (playing it up with jazz hands):...tang!

Ed (doesn't dare correct his excited boyfriend): Epervescent!

Stede: Yes!

Ed (gestures at his bubbly boyfriend): Yeah! You're the bubbly one!

Stede (wiggling in excitement): That just jumps in on top!

Ed: The Tang!

Stede: Yeah!

Ed (trying out a pickup line): Yeah you're the tang to my tong.

Stede (has no idea what a tong is but he loves rhyming): Ahhh! You're the zangy, I'm the tangy!

Ed (absolutely enamored and giggling with joy at Stede's flirting): Aw The Zangy and the Tangy! We should call the joint that! The Seaside and…

Stede (high pitched mating call): Tangy and Zangy!

Ed (falls apart laughing, holding on to Stede): ...Tangy Zang-!

Scene 4

Ed (giving Stede a boyfriend test): We're very different you see. We're cut from different cloths us two. Um but somehow when you stitch that cloth together...

Stede (appreciating Ed's deep thoughts): Mmm.

Ed: What does it make?

Stede (passing the test with flying colors): Well, a beautiful seam! ❤️

Ed: 💘😳🥰🫠

Scene 5

Ed (taking the opportunity to analyze and get near the Stiddies): We're leather and silk.

Stede (oblivious, trying to romantically serenade Ed): Leather and silk!

Ed: It's uh...*begins nervously singing too* and all things milk!

Stede (heartfelt but slightly confused crooning): ...together!

Ed (trying his best to rhyme): ...and from different ilks.

Ed (starts over, pulling it together as he goes): Leather and silk, from different ilks...

Stede (too stubborn to be apart from Ed even in song):...together we....

*Stede waits, anticipating a masterpiece finish*

Ed (hyperfocusing on dairy and possibly Stiddies at this point): ...from the udder...of life...we make milk!

*Stede remains utterly still as his brain catches up with Ed's*

*Ed finishes, baffled by his own song but he stands by those words because life really is like a cow's udder, and leather and silk are of different ilks, and in a strange and cosmic way, they do indeed make milk 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽*

#i took some creative liberties #but i think it works #ofmd #ofmd s2 #stede bonnet #edward teach #our flag means death #rhys darby #taika waititi #ofmd bts #transcript with dialogue tags

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gutsby · 1 year ago

Text

Easy Street

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Warnings: NSFW. Attempted vehicular manslaughter. Enemies to lovers to enemies again. Hatefucking, facefucking, and a fair share of overstimulation. Age gap. Loss of virginity. Dirty talk so foul it may set feminism back several centuries. 7.5k words + this fucking song.

“You are one sick son of a bitch.”

Gripping the steering wheel in one hand and the Collapsable Hearts Club cassette case in the other, you shook your head, disturbed. Even in the sunlight, the miniature music cartridge looked sinister. You flung it to the side.

How Negan could force-feed this shit to his prisoners was beyond you.

You were barely two verses into the song and ready to swerve your Crown Vic into a ditch—it was that bad. In spite of the fiercely upbeat tempo and catchy melody, each spoken word was like nails on a chalkboard. The lyrics almost taunting in how unfit they were for the cacophony of this tune:

We’re on easy street. And it feels so sweet. ‘Cause the world is but a treat—

“—when you’re on easy street,” you finished, reflexively.

Shit. You had to turn this off. You’d drive yourself insane if you listened another minute, you were sure. Your eyes darted to the dashboard and searched for the radio dial in a frantic look. Spotting it almost immediately, you clenched your hand in a fist and struck the button. Hard. Just wanting—needing—the music to stop.

But, to your horror, your careless right hook did just the opposite: instead of shutting off the song, it simply knocked the age-old button off the stereo system. You watched with eyes the size of dinner plates as the metal knob glanced off the gearshift and disappeared into the carpet below, taking with it all your hopes and dreams of escaping this musical torment.

You let loose a string of expletives and scrambled across the seat, almost forgetting you were driving. The tires of the police cruiser you’d hijacked just hours before went veering to the left. You managed to right the car mere seconds before it went flying off the road, but not before you tried retrieving the missing dial.

And we’re breakin’ out the good champagne…

The car swung wide to the side.

We’re sittin’ pretty on the gravy train…

“Where the fuck did it go?!”

And when we sing, every sweet refrain repeats…

“SHUT UP!”

Right here on easy street.

Before you could throw another punch at the dashboard, your whole body lurched forward and your face bashed the center of the steering wheel. Your cop car, freshly dented with the impact of a body you’d just struck, went spinning for a moment before coming to a screeching halt some yards down the road. Fickle bastards that happened to be your airbags didn’t bother to deploy.

You lifted your head from the shattered Ford logo in front of you and groaned.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror to see the bruised and bloodied mayhem that had taken the place of your face, you barely flinched. You weren’t sure why, or how, it had happened, but from start to finish you remained fully conscious. And fucking infuriated.

With a strength you hardly thought yourself capable of, you hoisted your body out of the car. Blinked hard against the rays of sunlight now searing your eyes, and made a circuit—half-limped, half-staggered in a zigzag sort of fashion—around the back of the car. You wavered on numb, unsteady feet before reaching clumsily into your back pocket.

A smile that resembled something more of a grimace made its way to your face as your fingers closed around the base of your Browning Hi-Power. Whatever dipshit walker that had crossed paths with your vehicle and caused you to wreck was about to get its head pumped full of lead, if it wasn’t dead already.

But just as you started to turn the corner and raise your gun, a strangled voice broke out:

“Hey, hey, stop! STOP!”

You stalled in your tracks and almost dropped your weapon. Either your vision had gone to shit or your mind was playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw a man waving his arms in a panic. Then he stopped.

You readjusted your grip on your pistol and kept it aimed at his head.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man paused a beat to eye you up and down, incredulous.

“You kiddin’?” he retorted.

When it looked as though he was moving closer to you, you fired a shot over his shoulder. The man jumped like a cat on hot bricks and slapped a hand over his ear, yelling,

“’Fuck was that for?!”

“I said, ‘Who are you?’” Your voice steadied with the recognition of your clear advantage.

The man, on the other hand, looked redder than ever. Though he didn’t budge an inch from his place and kept his hands held up in surrender, you could sense from the look on his face he was seething.

“Daryl,” he spat.

“Daryl who?”

“Daryl the-guy-you-just-hit-with-your-car, asshole.”

This time, you were the one to give him a skeptical once-over. Scanning his body for any signs of harm, only to make out a scrape on his cheek the size of your pinky. You wiped the back of your hand over a nose that was presently spurting blood like the Trevi Fountain and frowned.

“Y’don’t exactly look like roadkill to me,” you said flatly.

For the first time, Daryl’s mouth betrayed a hint of a smirk, and he tipped his chin in the direction behind you.

You turned, following his gaze, and eventually lowered your eyes to a lump in the road down yonder. You squinted.

“Is that a—” you started.

“Deer? Yeah.” Daryl finished.

When you angled back to face him, you saw the sour look had returned.

“Was s’posed’a be my dinner ‘til yer goddamn cop car chewed it up,” he said with a scowl.

So it was the deer he’d been carrying that you’d hit and sent your car to shit, and this man was bitching over a lost meal and a busted cheek? You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your jaw starting to clench at the sight of him.

The man carried on, oblivious, “If ye hadn’t been blastin’ yer music so loud maybe you’d’a seen me standin’ in the road with a fuckin’ carcass on my back.”

“Well I wasn’t—”

“Payin’ attention? I figured,” Daryl bit back before you could finish.

Then, after a beat, “Who are ye anyway?”

This part was bound to be fun. The stranger looking you up and down like you were nuts didn’t have a clue who you were, but you had a feeling he knew a thing or two about your people. The Saviors had a way of making their presence known among neighboring communities. You figured by the looks of this guy, he was just another boneheaded denizen of The Kingdom—or worse yet, Alexandria.

You flashed a smile and supplied, “I’m Negan.”

You’d been a Savior all of three weeks and hadn’t yet made the proclamation to anyone outside your camp before, so this felt like a particularly momentous occasion. You were eager to see how Daryl would respond. If it instilled even a fraction of the fear in him as it did in others—you know, when Negan Negan was swinging his beloved, barbed wire bat and saying those things—you’d be happy. If he showed so much as a morsel of deference to you, this would have all been worth it.

Instead, Daryl laughed.

Not a polite laugh, either. A sidesplitting, wide grinning sort of laugh that sent shockwaves through his body and had him doubling over in hysterics. Your cheeks flushed.

“No shit?” he wheezed, “Negan’s got a—a goddamn Barbie doll doing his bidding now?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, G.I. Jane.”

You’d heard enough of this. Had enough of him. You rubbed your blood-streaked face for the last time and turned on your heels. Stalking off in the other direction, the sounds of his laughter hardly seemed to subside, but it was apparent he wasn’t quite finished.

“I’m sorry,” he called after you, likely biting back a smile, “’m bein’ a prick, I know.”

You kept walking and pretended not to hear when footsteps bounded after you. You weren’t sure where you were going, or how you’d be getting there without a car, but you had a hunch that anywhere without Daryl was a place you’d like to be. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you shrugged it off and told him to shove it.

“Hey— I’m tryin’ to be nice here,” he protested.

When you turned to tell him it generally wasn’t a nice person’s prerogative to remind others they were nice, you stopped. Glanced down at Daryl’s outstretched arm and saw black fabric in his hand. And, just above it, his bare chest.

He’d torn off his sleeveless shirt and was holding it out to you.

“Here,” he grumbled, “For yer nose.”

You eyed the top with mild distrust and hesitated to take it. Daryl rolled his eyes.

You felt your whole body tense when a hand reached out to grab you. Gruff and graceless as ever, Daryl tugged you closer to him.

“Don’t move.”

You couldn’t help but wince when he dragged the material over your face. Certainly wasn’t gentle with it but seemed to make quick work of the dried blood nonetheless. You watched him closely as he continued to dab the makeshift medicinal rag over your lips and nose, and for a moment, he almost looked serene.

“So you’re part of Negan’s harem, huh?”

And the moment was gone. You glared at Daryl.

“I don’t fuck old guys,” you snorted.

As soon as your words hit the air, you cringed inwardly. Why did you say it like that?

It was true, Negan called you his wife—though you hardly considered him your husband—and the two of you had yet to consummate your marriage. You imagined that day would come eventually, but if you were honest with yourself, you really didn’t want to think what that night might entail. You’d barely made it to second base with your last boyfriend.

Presently, Daryl placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“Ouch.”

No doubt the man before you had you beat in years, too. By a landslide. He might’ve been a couple years younger than Negan, but he certainly didn’t look it. Had a hint of a youthful aura, if there was such a thing. An eternally cool fifty-something with the attitude of a man more than two decades his junior. You wondered for one brief, fleeting second if he might have the stamina of one too. You quickly regained your senses and felt the urge to barf in your mouth.

This man could be my father, you thought.

This man could be my “father,” your dirtier subconscious suggested.

“Ew,” you said aloud.

Daryl looked up from his current occupation and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I just—” You scrambled for a semi-plausible explanation for your outburst, “—just really hate the sight of blood.”

Daryl chuckled.

“Bullshit. I bet you’ve got some freaky kink for it,” he returned teasingly.

You were just then starting to suspect you might have a fetish for something else. You swallowed.

The taut, toned muscles in Daryl’s arms looked impossibly larger now that they were coated in sweat. With every forceful wipe of his hand, you saw some new bead of moisture fall from his skin or else dribble down his front, forming clusters of tiny rivulets that went trickling off his body. Like a tanned, trim stream of water you just wanted to lick—

“Clean!” Daryl announced, taking a step back to admire his work.

You suspected you still looked like shit, but you didn’t really care. You were too busy ogling Daryl’s body with a look of wanton lust to know, or care, or see much else, including the smirk that had begun to creep onto Daryl’s face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he sneered, chucking his shirt at you.

You barely managed to catch it as you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, a little too defensively for your liking.

You swallowed your embarrassment with a scowl and started off in the other direction.

“Where ya headed?” Daryl shouted after you.

“Sanctuary.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Can I please come?”

“Not unless you’re looking to have your head on a pike outside of it.”

Daryl grinned, “The thought might’ve crossed my mind.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Just when you came across a man with all the appearances of a perfectly aged fine wine and a killer body to boot, you find out he’s just as juvenile and dense as the rest of them. He continued to trot alongside you.

“You scared your husband’s gonna give you a whoopin’ or sumn’?” Daryl quipped.

“He’s not my husband,” you lied.

“Oh yeah?” he pressed.

“Yeah.”

“Then prove it.”

You slowed your pace to shoot him a look. He slowed a little too.

“I don’t have to prove anything,” you snapped.

Daryl raised his hands in defense, smiling just slightly.

“Never said you had to.”

You started to resume your trek again, only to halt a moment later when Daryl cut in:

“Yer a virgin, aren’t ya?”

This time the two of you came to a complete stop in the middle of the road. You saw the smug look on his face and wanted nothing more than to knock him on his ass.

“What did you just say?” Giving him a chance to fix his mistake.

Daryl did no such thing, only smiling even wider and crossing his arms.

“Just seems like you’ve never been fucked before,” he shrugged.

That was it. Without thinking twice, you shoved him hard in the chest and pushed him back a couple paces. Balled your hands into fists and nearly started pummeling his front, were it not for Daryl’s quick reflexes and frustrating ability to snag your two hands into one of his. He easily held your wrists captive above your head and squeezed them together—barely making an effort to restrain them and somehow doing it softly.

“You done?” he asked, unbothered.

You kicked him in the shin. This time he yelped, loosening his grip on you and leaving you space enough to break free. You contemplated another kick or shove for good measure, but seeing the enraged look on his face, you sensed it was in your best interest to flee. So you took off down the road.

You tore down the tarmac like a bat out of hell and chanced a quick look over your shoulder, only to see Daryl sprinting after you. Your stomach all but fell out your ass, and you kicked it into high gear as fast as you could.

“COME HERE!” Daryl bellowed behind you.

Your years outrunning walkers might finally have come in handy now. You sucked in a breath and took off like a shot, racing up the street with Daryl hot on your heels. With every second that passed, you sensed he was lagging further back. If you hadn’t been so scared he might beat you to a bloody pulp, you would’ve flipped him the bird or turned around to stick your tongue out.

The distance between you was even greater now. Your lungs were tight but breathing fine, and behind you, Daryl was audibly panting like a dog. You smirked to yourself.

Perhaps pushing your luck, you slowed down just a bit. Tried to stave off the oncoming wave of lactic acid soon to be stinging your muscles and keep the stomach cramps at bay. With your breaths growing more ragged and shallow by the second, you knew you couldn’t keep at this for too much longer. One of you would have to surrender at some point, and you knew it wouldn’t be you.

You were just then starting to regain speed when you felt something snag your waist. Before you could spare a look to the source of it, Daryl’s arm had already looped fully round your midsection and locked firmly in place. From there, his frame did the rest of the work as he took you both to the ground.

Daryl fell first. Got the wind knocked out of him and ate a face full of asphalt just in time for you to hit his body before you struck the concrete below. He let out a groan beneath you.

Together, you made a heaving, shaking mess in the middle of the road. Your body splayed over his, his arm still hooked around your hips, and the pair of you moaning and swearing and trying like hell to untangle yourselves from one another. You struggled to get upright, but your palms slipped on Daryl’s sweat-slick chest and sent you headfirst into his face. Daryl had just started to sit up when you knocked him flat on his back.

Nose-to-nose and practically panting into each other’s mouths, you shared a single, silent look—and simultaneously conjured up one of the worst ideas either of you had had to date.

“Wanna—” Daryl started.

“Yes.”

You and the man you’d just wanted to beat the living shit out of went shedding clothes like leaves off a tree. Daryl tearing the shirt off your body—so fast he damn near took your head off with it—and you fumbling at the buckle of his belt and whining at the feeling of a growing mound beneath you.

You freed belt, button, zipper, and boxers in a matter of seconds. Shocking even yourself, you started tugging his jeans down his legs, but Daryl stopped you.

“Leave it,” he grunted.

Before you knew it, he was hoisting himself off the ground with you still straddling his waist. Arms securing themselves under you and eyes searching wildly for the nearest car to fuck you on, Daryl groaned when your lips attached themselves to his neck. At length he settled on a long-abandoned Honda Civic perched on the edge of the road and dropped you onto the hood of it.

“Yer a shit driver, y’know that?” he said, yanking your shorts down your body.

You kicked them off at your ankles and inched yourself a little higher on the hood.

“Ever thought I meant to hit you?”

Daryl chuckled at that. Then he started lowering himself between your legs.

You’d been playing it unbelievably cool up until that point. Quick, witty, and nonchalant to a fault, as though you’d done this all a million times before. But inside you were panicked, fighting hard to keep your breaths in check and your stomach from twisting itself into knots. What was he planning to do with you? You’d only seen this stuff in movies, maybe once or twice in an incognito browser you’d opened years ago. You never thought you’d be doing any of it yourself—much less with a man twice your age and little more than a stranger to you—and suddenly, stupidly, you started to worry you might disappoint him.

You hadn’t even noticed Daryl had slipped down the length of your torso toward your heat. You tensed.

The next thing you felt was his hot breath fanning across your thighs, and you couldn’t help but try clamping them together, catching his head between the two of them.

“Ain’t even touched you yet,” he teased, glancing up at you.

You sincerely hoped neither your eyes nor your trembling thighs would give you away, but the look on Daryl’s face revealed just as much. Gaze still locked with yours, he offered a lopsided grin and started to bring his head even lower. Then, gently, he pressed a kiss over your panties. Then another. Then another.

You felt shivers the size of seismic waves pass over your body and he hadn’t so much as dipped a finger inside you. Slowly, you lifted your hips at Daryl’s behest and felt the fabric of your underwear disappear somewhere down your legs.

“We ain’t gotta do this if you’re—”

“Shut up,” you said, exasperated.

“Yes ma’am.”

Daryl imparted one last kiss to your aching core—this time unclothed—and groaned when he felt how wet you were before him. Almost immediately, his tongue darted out and licked a stripe up your slit. You moaned, squeezing your thighs even tighter.

Daryl didn’t mind. Just the opposite, in fact, as he delved deeper and flattened his tongue over your heat. Lapped up your juices and smirked when he felt you squirm above him.

“Dar—oh,” you began, only to break off in a semi-shriek when he found your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Wha’s’at?” Daryl’s voice came out muffled between your legs. Then lifting his head to be heard a little clearer, “You say sumn’, sugar?”

Your hands acted with a mind of their own as they hurriedly shoved his head back down.

“Don’t stop,” you hissed. You hardly knew what had come over you.

You heard one more muted, ‘Yes ma’am,’ and Daryl went dutifully back to his occupation of tongue-fucking you senseless. Coordinating a lethal combination of kissing, licking, sucking, and occasionally curling a finger inside you, he all but had you convulsing on the car with little to no hope of not cumming in his mouth. You threaded your fingers through his hair and yanked hard as the knot in your stomach started to tighten. One or two more suctioned kisses and a single lick between your folds and you’d be gone.

However, not long after that, Daryl did the cruelest thing you could’ve expected. He stopped.

Straightening up and taking a step back to marvel at the mess he’d made, he felt himself getting harder. All while you cussed and whined about how unfair he was being, he was concocting the filthiest thoughts imaginable. He grabbed both your ankles and jerked you closer. Then, crawling over you with pupils blown wide in lust, he seized hold of your throat in one hand and yanked you up hard to greet him.

You gagged, dragged your fingers helplessly over the single hand that was holding you up, and nearly started seeing stars when Daryl brought his face even closer to yours.

“You don’t cum ‘til I tell you to,” he said through gritted teeth, before letting go of your neck as quickly as he’d caught it and watching you fall back on your ass.

Sprawled out on the hood of the Honda, you cursed your deep-rooted daddy issues for finding that act of aggression arousing. You feigned an angry look and pouted up at him.

Before you could mouth off just to make him even angrier, you felt yourself manhandled once more: this time, plucked off the car and into Daryl’s arms. He promptly shifted your weight to one side and freed one of his hands to start fooling with something you couldn’t see beneath you. When you heard the rustle of fabric and felt him start to strain a little, you got the picture.

Daryl returned you to the car—this time, straddling him on the hood of it.

When he’d made himself comfortable and lifted you over his hips, he said, “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

“About what?” you huffed, already antsy with impatience.

“’bout this.” Daryl slipped a hand between your bodies and grazed your cunt with his knuckle. You pursed your lips tight to suppress the moan that followed.

“What about it?” you whined, trying, and failing, to steady your voice.

The corners of Daryl’s mouth twitched at the sight of you growing flustered. Quietly, he extended one finger and dragged it up your slit. Pretended not to hear when you whimpered his name.

“Have y’ever been fucked there?” he asked casually.

You had long since lost the tolerance for games. You shook your head and told him, “No.”

“What about here?”

Daryl beckoned you with the fingers of his free hand, and when you leaned in, brought them up to your lips. He cupped your chin and tapped your mouth, as if to accentuate his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, quietly.

If it were possible for Daryl to get any harder, he would have. You weren’t just a virgin, but an absolute, unadulterated novice to the world of depravity that infiltrated his every desire. Something about the artlessness and innocence in an amateur like yourself sent the blood pumping straight to his cock as he imagined all the things he could teach you. He couldn’t keep from staring at your lips, imagining his member pumping back and forth between them, or at your eyes, wondering how they’d lock with his the moment he pushed inside you. All thoughts of a rough and ruthless piledriver fuck escaped his brain as he sat back and simply relished the idea of being your first. It was all he could think about.

You, on the other hand, weren’t quite picking up what he was putting down and found yourself shifting uncertainly above him. Wondering if you had done something to upset him as he continued to watch you with a thousand-yard stare and didn’t say a word.

“Is that...okay?” you asked, your voice now barely above a whisper.

Daryl’s gaze flitted to yours, and he almost groaned at the wide-eyed expression of naïveté on your face.

Instead of answering, he took your hips in his hands and dragged your lower half over his. Letting you feel, for the first time, just how swollen and erect he was beneath you. Your breath hitched a little in your throat, but you couldn’t deny the sensation was incredible. As before, your body just sort of acted of its own accord and started rubbing against him, while you hoped, implacably, that whatever you were doing was normal. Judging by the sound he let out moments later you deduced that it was.

You hardly realized it yourself, but your heat was dripping with arousal. Coating Daryl’s cock with every gyration of your body while the man below you had only to grit his teeth and hiss at the sensation. When he glanced down to watch you, he almost groaned with pleasure.

“I need to fuck you,” he blurted out, half-declaration, half-plea.

That drove the point home well enough.

You watched with some amusement as Daryl continued to clench his jaw and fight with every fiber of his being not to buck his hips up into you. You almost felt tempted to giggle when all of a sudden Daryl took your face in his hands. Then he kissed you, deeply.

You were taken aback by the gesture but kissed him back all the same, surprised neither of you had made an attempt to do it before. With no great difficulty at all, your mouths melded into one another as he gripped the sides of your face and pulled you even closer. He slipped his tongue between your lips, and you tasted a tang of yourself still lingering on it. You opened your mouth a little wider in the hopes Daryl would afford you more of it.

But then, as quickly as he’d started, he stopped. He pulled away, looked you up and down, and swallowed.

“You sure y’want to?” he murmured.

Presently, and impatient as you were, you decided to take a page from Daryl’s book and gratify his question with a wordless answer. You rolled your hips over his and pushed the head of his cock against your wet, aching hole, peering into his eyes with the purest ‘fuck-me’ look you could muster.

Daryl was already gripping the base of his cock and angling it toward your entrance. Hoping you wanted this as badly as he did, pondering with some apprehension how he might fit you and whether it’d feel good for you at first or take some getting used to—all while needing you on him, around him, filled to the brim with every inch and pleading for more. Unlike himself, he found it near impossible to make that first push inside you, still plagued with the thought he might break you in two.

Sensing this, you did something uncharacteristic of yourself too, and made the first move to ease down on his length.

Your body welcomed him with surprising ease, though the inches came slow and the stretch was something you hadn’t expected. Your eyes flickered to Daryl’s as the sting turned to a burn, and you almost couldn’t bring yourself down to the base of him without the sound of a few strangled whimpers escaping your lips. Daryl’s hands quickly worked their way around you and started rubbing up and down your back, as if to distract you from the feeling while his eyes searched yours for any signs of serious discomfort.

“Hey, you’re good,” he assured you quietly, swallowing a moan of his own as your warmth engulfed him completely, “You’re good, honey, you’re good.”

When you looked to him as if to say, ‘Holy shit, are you sure?’ he just smiled and nodded.

“Takin’ me so good,” he murmured, eyes glued on you, “Doin’ so fuckin’ well.”

His soft consolations rang clear in your ears and encouraged you to keep going. You lifted yourself in his lap and brought your body back down again, this time gratified with Daryl’s first moan. He snaked an arm around your waist and helped you gently buck your hips to his and rock them back and forth. Together, you watched your bodies grind against each other in a hot and sweaty mess, making sounds as sticky and obscene as you’d ever heard before, and right then, you swore you could have cum at the sight of that alone. The initial burn gave way with each passing moment to a sweeter sort of feeling deep within your belly. You picked up your speed just a bit and braced yourself hard against Daryl’s chest.

“My baby feelin’ good?” he said, breaths coming out in shallow puffs now as you rode him.

You bit your lip and nodded, practically bouncing in his lap with your hands still anchored on him and your eyes beginning to close.

“That good, huh?” Daryl hummed.

When you nodded again, he dropped a hand to the spot where your bodies connected and rubbed a light, lazy circle between your folds. Your eyes squeezed tighter at the jolt of pleasure, and your body moved even faster.

“Fuck, Daryl,” you whined. “I-I–”

“What?” Daryl smirked.

You ventured a look back down at him, eyes all glossy and soft. You were still writhing, still rolling up and down his shaft with a fucked-out look as his hips started to snap up into you. In a moment, you surprised the both of you as you gripped his shoulder and said:

“I want you to fuck me from behind.”

Daryl was still rutting into you and somehow unable to comprehend how a thing as lithe and naive as you looked could ever say something so coarse. When he didn’t respond for some seconds, you sighed, disgruntled.

“C’mon, Dar,” you whined, “have I gotta bend myself over this car and—”

Daryl didn’t let you finish. Flipped you over beneath him and did exactly as you hoped he would, stomach flat on the hood of the car and ass up in the air.

He didn’t waste another moment waiting for your assent as he had before. He just thrusted himself in one, sloppy drive and made you moan as he bottomed out inside you. Snatched a fistful of hair in one hand and yanked your head back to meet his gaze.

“Anyone ever taught you manners?” he growled, likely displacing dozens of strands of hair from your scalp with the way he was pulling it, “Ever heard of please, and thank you, daddy?”

Your knees buckled at the last. Stretched and stuffed with his cock, you swear you couldn’t have felt any filthier than the instant he’d uttered that final word in your ear. You watched him, mouth hanging open, and hardly knew what to say.

“You know,” Daryl started, breaking your heart when he withdrew himself from your hole, “I don’t think you deserved to be fucked like this at all.”

Heaving breath after desperate breath over the hood of the car, you turned yourself fully to face him. He wasn’t smiling, or watching you with those careful, kind eyes anymore.

“I do,” you cried, “I want you to fuck me like that, Daryl, I do.”

“I bet you do,” he snapped, retreating another step, “I said you don’t deserve it.”

You would’ve fallen to your knees if you had a fraction less sense than you did. Pleading him with wild, frenzied eyes and legs that were liable to collapse with the weight of your desire, you didn’t blink when Daryl’s hand found the back of your head again—yanking it down this time around.

“Something tells me that mouth needs fucking if it wants a lesson in etiquette,” he griped, shoving you to the ground in front of him.

You cowered on your knees as your face hovered inches from his stiff, expecting member. The problem was, you didn’t know what he was expecting, or how he wanted it done. Were you supposed to take him in both hands and rub him up and down, pepper kisses down every throbbing vein and lick him ‘til he came, tease him with your tongue like he had with you, or else swallow him whole? You didn’t know, couldn’t start, would’ve like to wait another minute or two contemplating your latest charge when all of a sudden, Daryl’s hand pushed you straight on his cock.

Not an easy couple inches or a light, gentle thrust to get you used to his size in your mouth. A full-forced thrust to the back of your throat, causing your mouth to convulse, contract, and gag around him in response. Your eyes welled with tears and ventured a look to the man with his fingers still threaded through your hair. The scowl hadn’t ebbed from his features, and the eyes were hardly more sympathetic. He dragged you back up his length so there was just enough space for you to speak, and uttered, almost mockingly:

“What do we say when we want something, sugar?”

Your mind was buzzing, but the answers came quicker than you thought.

“Please,” you spluttered, drool leaking down your chin, “I say please.”

“Wrong,” Daryl declared.

Without another word, he shoved your face down the length of his cock and pulled it back even faster. You were still reeling with the force of your gag reflex and sucking in a breath when he began again.

“Please what?” he pressed, tilting your head up to face him.

“P-Please, daddy. Please, daddy,” you supplied in an instant.

A marginally gentler touch massaged the back of your head with his fingertips, and for a second, you thought you were clear. Then Daryl went pushing your mouth back onto him, albeit slightly less harsh, and you readily closed your lips around him and bobbed on his cock. You sucked happily and with more enthusiasm than you thought yourself able, just wanting to make Daryl happy and keep him guiding you over his length with a more tender grasp.

And he did just that. Seemingly appeased by your obedience and more than pleased to watch you slide up and down him as you were, he ran a more considerate touch over your head and let you do most of the work.

You flattened your tongue on the bottom and curled your lips around your teeth to keep the friction minimal. Almost amazed how natural it felt to be servicing his cock and wanting, more than anything, to know you were making him proud. When a long, protracted moan graced your ears the moment you reached the base of him, you held him there as long as you could and hummed a quiet, muffled whimper of your own.

When Daryl pulled you off a second later, you were disheartened, to say the least. You parted your lips and leaned in to take him in your mouth again, only to feel yourself being gathered back up in Daryl’s arms and brought to your feet.

“Go on,” he murmured, pacing forward and nudging you gently to the point the backs of your knees hit the grill of the car behind you, “Tha’s my good girl.”

You fell back and watched Daryl’s body trail close behind. By the time you were flat on your back, he was wedged between your thighs with a hand planted on either side of your head.

If wanted him any more, you’d probably be blue in the face, unable to breathe, and on the brink of seeing stars. Your chest rose and fell with the shortest, shallow breaths, and it seemed each passing moment brought you nearer to your fear that they might stop altogether if Daryl didn’t touch you soon. You gladly parted your legs further to accommodate his frame, and when you felt him above you, poised inches from your aching heat, you wrapped your legs around him. Tight.

“Tell me how ye want it,” Daryl grunted.

“Want you deep inside me, daddy, please,” you answered, taking care not to neglect your “manners.” Then, more softly, “Want you to fuck me ‘til I can’t walk, daddy, pretty pretty please.”

Daryl moaned at the sounds of your excitement, feeling you dig your heels in his ass and tug him even closer. His cock twitched at your entrance.

“Tha’ what you want?” he hummed, grazing his lips along your cheek, “Tha’s what my baby needs?”

You nodded frantically. Daryl nodded too, as if commiserating with you, but then felt unable to suppress the smirk that was threatening to grow on his face. He reveled in your pleasure and your pleas all the same and wanted to make this good for you. He couldn’t make you wait.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he sank his cock between your folds and gratified you both with a familiar, filling stretch. You clenched around him and earned another low, guttural moan as Daryl pushed deeper inside you. It didn’t take long for the pace of his thrusts to pick up, impatience and desperation practically tangible in the air between you. You let your head loll back and felt Daryl’s own fall into the crook of your neck, breaths hot on your skin as he continued to pound you into the metal surface below.

“’s a shame ya don’t— fuck older guys,” Daryl whispered, punctuating his words with another thrust. Ridiculing you for your comments earlier and making you squirm as he did.

If you weren’t so close to climax you would’ve told him to fuck off—probably made yourself look a little stupid as a man twice your age was currently balls deep inside you, giving you dick like no other on the front-end of a Honda Civic. Instead, you swallowed your pride and smiled.

“Glad you could get it up when I did, daddy,” you managed quietly, cloyingly. Almost wanting to slip a sly Cialis joke at the end but thinking better of it.

Daryl took one of your legs over his shoulder then, pounding you at a vicious speed.

“Anything for my favorite Savior,” he returned, just as caustic and cruel as he relished the squelching sounds between you.

Your head fell back with the new, nearly unbearable sensation radiating from your core, and Daryl quickly cradled you between his arms. Hunched over you now and fucking you faster than ever, he wanted—no, needed—to see you cum, and he’d stop at nothing to see it happen.

He hauled your other leg to rest flat on his shoulder and thrusted even deeper. With both ankles above your head and your eyes practically rolled back in pleasure, it took him all of ten seconds to find your clit and make you scream. Not a moan or a shriek or a half-hearted whimper, but a scream that went echoing down the road and through the woods and likely in the ears of every walker within a five mile radius. Neither of you cared.

Your eyes locked on Daryl’s and glazed over with desire, all you needed was release.

“I-I’m close,” you managed, breath hitching with every snap of Daryl’s hips.

“Fuckin’ show me then,” Daryl bit back, “Show daddy how good his cock’s makin’ ya feel.”

What little you could show him came in the form of a strangled moan and a sigh, and Daryl didn’t seem satisfied with this in the slightest. Rather than take you at your word, he grasped your face in one hand and jerked your head toward him. Heart racing and chest shaking with every breath, he drove himself a little deeper and felt you clench him around him even tighter when he hit your sensitive spot.

“Wanna cum for daddy, is tha’ what y’want?” he prodded. Pretending not to hear when you squealed his name and writhed with every graze against your g-spot.

“Yes, daddy, please let me cum— a-all over your cock,” you stammered.

Daryl smoothed the hair out of your face and caught a glimpse of the cockdrunk expression painted on it, and almost shot his load on the spot. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t cum ‘til he had your own release spilling down his member, that much he knew. You were being so good for him, taking him so well, and on top of it all, calling him daddy left and right like your life depended on it. Daryl was smitten.

Sensing your orgasm was fast approaching, he dropped a hand between your legs and took care to keep it gentle. Watched your lips form an “o” and a hand reach for his, hurriedly, while an old, familiar feeling just then started to twist in your stomach.

“Daryl,” you shrilled, squeezing his hand as tight as you could.

“Right here, honey,” Daryl murmured, eyes steady on yours, “I’m right here, you can cum for me.”

He clutched your fingers right back and felt them tighten as a new wave of pleasure broke over you. Your moans came quick and took a higher pitch, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, and the best, albeit maddening, part for Daryl came when your muscles started to pulse around him, nearly sending him over the edge himself. You dropped your head back into his hands and simply felt him—in you, and on you, and at your ear with the gentlest words of encouragement. You breathed out a sigh when the pleasure started to subside.

Daryl didn’t stop. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and the soft, earnest grunts stayed constant as he continued to rut into you and circled a thumb over your clit.

You whined with your sharply heightened sensitivity and pressed your hands to his chest, bewildered by this feeling and why the hell Daryl had kept going.

“Dar—”

“One more, darlin’,” Daryl urged, as delicate as he was adamant.

Your eyes widened, every nerve ending in your body on the fritz. Your fingernails carved bright red crescents in his skin with the force of every thrust, and for a time, it seemed you were riding out the longest orgasm of your life. You clung to Daryl and let your pleasure overtake you. You scarcely understood the sensation more than you did Daryl’s intentions, but the longer he fucked you, the more intense the feeling grew, and within a matter of seconds you were coming undone again, the swell of your second climax washing over you with a mind-numbing fury.

Eager as he was to fuck you into your third, Daryl just couldn’t resist the sights and sounds and unbearable sensations beneath him any longer, and he felt his own orgasm tearing through his body moments later. You felt a spurt of warmth within you and a set of lips finding yours in a frantic, clumsy kiss, and you relished the noises Daryl made as he rode out his high.

You were still kissing in between delirious gasps for air and all but shaking on the sweat-soaked hood of the car. Daryl’s hips slowed before coming to rest comfortably between your thighs, still inside you.

Wide-eyed and smiling, Daryl raised a hand to your head and was just then brushing some hair from your face to plant a couple more kisses, when a voice broke out across the way:

“Ho-ly shit!”

You and Daryl jumped at the intrusion and glanced behind you. Your blood ran cold.

You spotted a familiar salt-and-pepper speckled head of hair and a set of eyes glinting with amusement. Standing off to the side with his attention fastened to the two of you and a head shaking back and forth, slowly, as if in disbelief.

“Daryl Dixon, you dirty, dirty dog!” he chided, “How’s it feel to pop my wife’s cherry before me, brother?”

At the last, Negan tightened his grip on Lucille and smiled.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

Text

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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radioisntdead · 6 months ago

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Adore

Alastor x reader

Warnings:

This is short, not my best work I WILL REDEEM MYSELF. Alastor is implied to break in at the end.

Good evening folks!

APOLOGIES FOR THIS BEING DELAYED, I accidentally deleted the whole thing and then I just laid on Barnaby out of defeat and slept.

ANYWAYS HERE'S WEDNESDAY'S ANGST, or Wednesday's poor excuse for angst, the original was better.

I'll be posting another angst fic later today, hopefully, it's either gonna be with Lute or another Alastor one

Song

A-one, two, three, four

You completely and utterly adored Alastor, how could you not?

He was quite charming! Sure he was a cannibalistic murderer but that for some reason wasn't a deal breaker for you.

A side effect from being in hell probably or possibly because you were just as screwed up as he was just in a different format!

Everything you do, it sends me

You had met him while working at Rosie's emporium, Rosie had asked you to make some tea while she taught Alastor the newest slang she had gathered.

Higher than the moon with every twinkle in your eye

Turns out you both had so much in common!

Both of you had gained deer attributes after your fall to eternal damnation, had a strong distaste for the lustful cravings of the flesh, thought cannibalism was neat, Rosie was a dear friend, and held a fondness and strong preference for the years you were alive.

You strike a match that lights my heart on fire

Rosie being the matchmaker she was decided to nudge the two of you together, after all she saw how well you and Alastor matched together, and it worked! Of course it did.

When you're near, I hide my blushing face

You and Alastor fit together perfectly, like pillows and blankets, like shoes and laces.

And trip on my shoelaces

He'd take you dancing, hand gently placed on your waist when you would dance more classically, or you'd have arms and legs frailing around like a octopus when you'd give more energetic dances a try.

Grace just isn't my forté

The two of you enjoyed cooking together in the kitchen, Jambalaya, curries, biscuits and gravy, pasta, gumbo, baked breads and whatever else you could think of, you made together.

But it brings me to my knees when you say

You'd help Alastor out with his radio broadcast, by either proofreading his scripts or finding an unfortunate sinner to make an appearance with their screams.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

You didn't know where things went wrong, everything was going well!

I fall into a pile on the floor, deer love is hard to ignore

At least you thought so, the last day you spent with Alastor the two of you had made a lovely dinner together, you had set the table with fresh flowers, a candle or two.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

After dinner the two of you danced to some jazzy song from his era, and he twirled you around.

We're as different as can be

His hand holding yours.

I've noticed you're remarkably murdery and I'm slightly less murdery

His red eyes staring adoringly into yours.

We balance out each other nicely

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before you went to sleep that night.

You wear fancy shoes in the snow

You had awoken in the morning and Alastor wasn't there.

You assumed he had stepped out and he'd be back soon.

In mid-July, I still feel cold

But as the clock continued to tick and the red skies turned into a deeper red you were worried but you knew he could handle himself maybe he just got caught up in something? Perhaps with that TV guy he was 'friends' with?

We're opposites in every way

Hours turned into days and days into weeks,

No one had heard from nor had they seen Alastor.

You looked everywhere for him, asking around, desperately trying to find out where he went.

but I can't resist it when you say

Vox apparently tried to get him to join his little V themed posse and Alastor rejected him, rather harshly and also broke his little TV antenna while he was at it.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Rosie hadn't heard from him either, and obviously you wouldn't be asking around if you knew where he was.

I fall into a pile on the floor

Weeks turned into months and before you knew it those months became years.

He was just gone, leaving only traces of his existence.

Puppy love is hard to ignore, when every little thing you do, I do adore

For the first few years you would frequently pop into his radio tower, hoping that maybe, just maybe he would be there for some reason, and when he undoubtedly wasn't, you cleaned the place up, keeping it in tip top shape.

Finding words, I mutter

Once it hit the five year mark you stopped popping in, allowing dust and whatever else to consume the radio tower untill further notice.

Tongue-tied, twisted

You stopped hoping that Alastor would just waltz on into your shared home, with that yellowed grin of his and static following.

Hoove in mouth, I start to stutter, Ha, ha, Heaven help me

You stopped looking for Alastor.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Seven years, he was gone for seven years,

He was back and he didn't have the decency to even pay you a visit? You had to hear about his return from him publicly beefing with Vox.

I fall into a pile on the floor, Puppy love is hard to ignore

If Alastor wasn't going to come find you then you wouldn't go out of your way to find him either, even if that hazbin hotel where he was residing was only a 30 minute walk away.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

Alastor didn't intentionally ghost you, his absence was only supposed to be for a short while.

Unfortunately he was foolish enough to make a deal that had kept him away from you for seven long years, his dear friend Rosie had been kind enough to fill him in on your activities since his disappearance but not before scolding him harshly for not even having the decency to send a postcard.

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

He had been back for a time now, how rude of him to not pay his dearest a visit! After all you were looking for him until recent years right?

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

Alastor was someone you completely and utterly adored once.

And unfortunately he still adored you to some degree considering he was standing in front of you in the doorway of the house you had once shared, he was as smiley as ever, his grin grew larger as he saw your confused expression.

"Good evening my darl-" he was interrupted by you slamming the door in his face.

Every little thing you do, I do adore

It seems you weren't as excited to see him as he expected, oh well! Good thing for him that you didn't bother to change the locks.

Good evening folks my apologies, this is more comedic then angsty, hope you enjoyed though I will redeem myself.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you

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contlis12 · 1 year ago

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Male Feedee and Genderless Feeder dark feederism short story

Cole groggily came to feelings his feeder lifting his legs with the straps they had installed in the bedroom after Cole had passed the 550 pound mark and changing and cleaning was becoming more of an issue. Pushing the massive parachute sized white underwear half way up his thighs ready to squeeze them past his sagging hips when they finally got him standing. As his feeder was slipping on his bariatric soft socks over his plump feet Cole asked almost nervously “why are you dressing me already? I haven’t even had my first feeding yet” his feeder just chuckled sweetly. “Oh we are going to do your breakfast out on the couch today, you are going to need the energy you’ll be busy today” they said rubbing lotion into the crevasses of Coles fat struggling to keep him from getting any bed rash or chub rub spending so long in bed and being so unhealthy and massively fat. Coles walk or more accurately waddle to the living room couch was eventful to say the least at one point Cole had broken down in tears begging to go to back to bed and that he couldn’t make it to the couch and had to be taken in his bariatric wheel chair the rest of the way to the couch. “There piggy I know this was hard and you are really cranky from being hungry so I’m going to make sure your belly is aching after this feast and you feel all better baby” and they weren’t exaggerating. Giant bowls heaped to the top with gravy and biscuits, greasy hashbrowns swimming in ketchup, even glazed doughnuts with slices of American cheese melted on the top of them. Coles feeder loved listening to him retch in pain so full his stomach is screaming to expel the food to make room and then greedily scarfing down the next bite making guttural gulping and snorts as he loses control plunging his mouth into the greasy low quality slop he’s been conditioned to love. After what seemed like hours Coles feeder had considered it satisfactory and let the pig stop eating and left in a messy ketchup and gravy covered mess. Grinning they came over and softly rubbed the sagging slab of fat that Coles gut had grown into a huge stretch mark covered waterfall of fat going nearly to his knees. “That’s such a good job piggy, I’m glad you ate plenty so you have the energy to entertain your friends tonight”.

Coles already thudding heart started racing even faster as his food fogged brain started to realize what his feeder had just said. “Whu-what do you mean?” Cole stammered looking down at his feeder now with their head resting on his stomach looking sweetly up at him. “Oh I invited your friends out to finally visit with you again, they all missed you so much so I kept up with them for you and set up a surprise visit honey” Coles mouth dropped open as he seen the glint in his feeders eyes as they drank in the absolute shock on his face. “I’m tired of you not giving me my due recognition Cole, you lay in my house pigging out all day eating up my money and you’ve never once told anybody how proud you were to be my piggy and grow for me. You try and hide that body I’ve grown and I’m due some respect and you to be a little more grateful” Cole began to let the words tumble out of his still open mouth “I-I-uh” his feeder puts a finger up to his lips. “Don’t speak because I don’t care, you need to learn how to give in this relationship and you are going to start by letting all your friends see what I’ve grown you into and how happy you are that I was kind enough to pick you for all this affection and time”. Cole hoped this was another role play scenario his feeder, there’s no way that this could be real. “They are going to be here in about 15 minutes or less. They texted me they were close to town towards the end of your breakfast. I was hoping to have you better dressed but there’s no way we could even get you into the bathroom that fast much less cleaned up and I need to welcome everyone in since you can’t open the door or really do anything but sit there and eat ofcourse” Coles eyes widened as he looked down and seen his massive exposed food stained body. His underwear were almost completely swallowed by his cascading waterfall of fat his body had turned into, if you didn’t look close you’d assume him nude. “Please you can’t do this to me! I can’t face people I used to know in this state!” Cole wailed eyes streaming tears that mixed with the ketchup staining his bloated fat puffy cheeks. “Oh I can’t? Okay Cole go walk to the bedroom and get yourself dressed” his feeder said coldly armed crossed smiling. “I can’t! You know I can’t!” His feeder walked over looming over him sitting on the couch “exactly so stop telling me what we are going to do piggy! You are going to learn your place, you are out of control princess!” They said grinning ear to ear at this point. “Now beg me, ask me like a pathetic hog since you’ve ate your manners away with your self control”. “Please I’m sorry can I get cleaned up and clothes” he said angry and totally mentally drained at this point knowing this wasn’t going to stop. “No” his feeder immediately replied “you are going to learn to respect me piggy, but I’ll let you have a shirt”.

Coles three closets friends all pilled out of the van they’d rode in from the airport in. “I can’t believe Coles partner paid for all our tickets here and everything! I mean seriously that guy is lucky to have a partner with those kind of expenses.” Mike said to Kayla “Yeah nice house too, must have been an old couples or something before. There aren’t even steps just a wheel chair ramp”. “I’m just glad to see the guy again, it’s been over two years since he moved out here with them and he barely kept touch. Honestly kind of annoying” Danny said following them up the ramp. “Oh stop Danny, you know how life can be. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, at least the old gang is back for a few days!” Kayla said as she rung the door bell on the large oversized double door that seemed way too big for a suburban single level home. Coles feeder answered the door “Hey guys! Hope the flight wasn’t too bad” as they helped them bring everyones bags in. “No not at all, so where’s Cole? I can’t wait to see him!” Kayla said looking at the kitchen that’s as near the entrance to the home. Where those funnels on the wall? Surprising that they are still doing beer bongs at this point but who is Kayla to judge, they all used to party with Cole alot. Coles feeder smiles “oh he’s in the living room watching tv” as she points to the next room. Kayla is the first to walk into the living room and Danny walls face first into her back as she completely stops in her tracks “what the hell Kayla?” He starts to say as he hears Kayla say “Cole? Cole?” And I raspy breathy voice responds “yea hi Kayla” Danny peers around her shoulders to see Cole and nearly drops his jaw on the floor as he accidentally lets a “oh my god” without even realizing he had said it out loud. Looking at what he is told is his old friend he can’t believe it. He wasn’t even sure if the thing melting into that couch was male. Coles huge stretch mark stomach hung obscenely out of the too small shirt his feeder had pulled over his torso that barley even covered his belly button. “Yeah I kind of gained a lot of weight” Cole said staring down at the floor to embarrassed to even meet his friends eyes “uhh yeah you’ve gained some weight” Mike said finally after standing silently behind the other two “are you doing okay buddy?” He said walking towards the pile of fat that spilled off the sagging couch. “Yeah I just have a- I have an eating disorder I think” he said nervously. His feeder stepped into the room behind them “Cole has had some issues in the past we are trying to work on and even spoke about this morning but let’s not worry about that now. You guys are old friends! Sit down please you guys need to catch up!” Coles feeder said putting a hand on Mikes shoulder “he always talked about you guys so much”. The three friends looked at each other concerned before Mike spoke up “ofcourse no need to dwell on this negative stuff I’m just happy we are all together. It’s always good to see old friends”.

The evening had gone well until the pizza Coles feeder had ordered had arrived. His feeder had came in the room with a tv tray and a few boxes of pizza as they started laying slice after slice of pizza in a large dinner bowl. “I got you the extreme pepperoni lovers with extra extra cheese you like honey, I know you are starving. Let me get your ranch” coming in the room with a huge bottle of ranch Coles friends stare in amazement as Coles feeder starts squirting messy cup fulls of ranch all over the pizza that was messily thrown into the bowl

“Now eat fast because you have a lot more to finish babe” they say as they give Coles belly a hard open palmed smack after filling the bowl to the max. “Do you really think he should be eating that?” Mike says as Coles feeder starts walking back to the kitchen. “Excuse me?” Coles feeder says still holding the massive bottle of ranch. “I said do you think he should eat all of that?” Mike said pointing at Cole. “I mean seriously what was that? Look at that pile of cheese and ranch! You are killing him!” Mike says raising his voice. Kayla puts a hand on his arm “Mike” as he pulls away. “No Kayla it isn’t right! They are killing him and enabling him with this weird fucking fetish! Look at him!”. Danny stands up beside Mike “He’s right Kayla, it’s obvious this is some weird feeder kink thing and they are enabling Cole. This is just as bad as somebody handing an alcoholic beer Kayla.” Coles feeder puts their hands on their hips and surveys them all. “Do you think he doesn’t want this? Coles happier than he has ever been being my feedee” they walk over squirting an even more obscene amounts of ranch on his pizza as they grin at Coles friends “Do you want more piggy?” Coles feeder coos pinching Coles double chin “or maybe your friends are right maybe we should put you on a diet” Cole weakly clutches at his feeders shirt “please feed me I’m so hungry piggy wants more” Coles feeder picks up a messy handful of the ranch covered pizza and holds it up to his nose. In a moment Cole is digging his face into the messy pizza slop making obscene oinking and gasps “feed me please I’m a good piggy grow my belly!” Feeling his feeders fingers push the pizza over his tongue.

Mike huffs in disgust “fine, I’m not being a part of this weird fetish bullshit. Have fun eating yourself to death Cole. I really hope you get some help but I think you are too far gone” as he walks into the entryway grabbing his bag and walking to the street “I’m calling an Uber”. Danny stands without saying anything besides “Bye Cole” and following Mike out to the porch. Kayla walks over absolutely disgusted about what is happening before her “Cole please, we can get you help. You aren’t going to live like this. You aren’t happy, you can’t be” Coles feeder pulls the slop away from his face “what do you think honey ready to leave me and get help?”. Coles eyes roll as he looks at Kayla’s distraught and disgusted face “Piggy needs feeding tube, so hungry” is all Cole moans in response. Coles feeder grins at Kayla “want to help”. Kayla looks at Cole one last time “Fuck you” she says to Coles feeder before looking down at Cole “bye Cole, good luck” before walking out of the front double door to join her friends waiting for their Uber as she wonders if Cole will even be able to fit out of them by the next year.

#dark feederism #death feedee #death feederism #death feedist #extreme feederism #immobile feedee #ssbhm belly #death feeder #immobile fat #extreme feedist #feedee feeder

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 7 months ago

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The Peapod (The Surprise, Part 6)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, some fairly innocent references to breasts, the most wholesome BAU content, platonic love/found family 4ever Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Emily are finally ready to tell the BAU your good news, so you invite everyone over for a dinner party. Celebrations ensue.

A Note on Timeline: In my head and in this fic, we're forever stuck in the Elite Team era of the BAU (Unit Chief Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, Garcia, JJ, Reid, Emily).

Week 13: The Peapod

“What did you say this was called?” Rossi asked you, dipping a hunk of cornbread into his stew.

Light music played from the record player in the corner, and the sounds of people enjoying good food and good company surrounded you. You and Emily had invited the whole team over for dinner. Emily was dying to tell them about the baby, but she’d wanted you to be there, too. This was, you knew, Emily’s version of sharing the news with her family, especially since her mom hadn’t been very enthusiastic. The BAU was her family, and you were her family, and she loved when her two worlds collided.

“Brunswick stew,” you answered, putting a few pieces of ice in Jack’s and Henry’s bowls as you ladled so that it wouldn’t be too hot.

“Thank you much.” Will nodded at you, grinning. “Been a while since I had Brunswick stew.”

“Us southerners gotta stick together up here, right?” You placed little slices of cornbread at the corner of their bowls. “You and JJ and Henry should come over for brunch sometime. I’ll make you biscuits and gravy.”

“We’d love that,” he said warmly, settling Henry in his seat before taking his own.

“You know, Brunswick stew may have originated in either Brunswick County, Virginia, or Brunswick, Georgia, but nobody knows which one.”

You shook your head. Of course Spencer knew the origins of Brunswick stew.

He kept going, tearing bits of cornbread and sprinkling them on top of his bowl. “Originally the stew would have been made with squirrel, rabbit, or possum meat. It cooks so long that it was ideal for tenderizing wild game.”

The room went silent. You passed behind Spencer carrying your own bowl and patted him on the shoulder.

“No squirrels here, though,” you assured them. “Just pulled pork from Hill Country.”

You settled in your seat next to Emily, Derek on your other side, and looked around for a moment, smiling. You were so thankful for these people. Thankful that they took care of each other so well, that they took care of Emily so well. They did such difficult work, but they got through it together. They really were like family. Overlapping conversations washed over you, and you were content to just listen for a while.

After dinner, everyone sprawled across the apartment, conversing happily. You were standing and talking to Penelope about the new Zelda game when Emily came over and took your hand. It was time. She grinned at you, and there were no nerves, only excitement. You gave her the slightest of nods, and she tapped her wine glass.

The conversation trickled to a stop as everyone looked to Emily.

“So we actually have some news,” she started, looking at you and squeezing your hand. “Y/N and I are, uh… we’re having a baby.”

Jaws dropped and huge smiles broke out.

“What!?” Penelope squealed excitedly, wrapping both of you in a bear hug. She was echoed by the whole team’s congratulations, happy calls of “Wow!” and “Congrats!” and general sounds of happiness, even a few scattered claps.

“Which one of you’s carrying?” Rossi asked.

Spencer answered before you could. “It’s Y/N. You can tell because she’s gained weight around the face and also because her breasts are significantly bigger to prepare for breastfeeding.”

“Spence!” JJ exclaimed, smacking his arm. A happy roar of laughter broke out, and you blushed beet red.

“Reid, can we not talk about my wife’s boobs, please?” Emily chastised, but you could tell she was overjoyed. This was the reaction Emily deserved from her family. You were so glad she was finally getting it.

Hugs were given all around and happy mumblings took over the room as you and Emily were swarmed for conversations and congratulations.

Rossi put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed. “I’m happy for you kids,” he said, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks, Dave,” you said, smiling at him.

Penelope swallowed you up in another hug. “I am so excited!” she gushed. “You and Emily are gonna be the best, most kickass moms, and we’ll have another little BAU baby! Have you all been clothes shopping yet!? Can I come!? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?!”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Well, Emily’s pretty sure it’s a boy, but that’s based purely on her ‘profile,’ so it’s still up in the air.”

“Ugh, profilers, am I right?” Penelope groaned, commiserating with you.

JJ and Will came over to offer their congratulations, too, hugging you tightly.

“It’s the greatest gift,” Will told you. “There’s nothing like it in the world.”

“How far along are you?” JJ asked.

“Thirteen weeks.”

“Second trimester,” she observed, nodding.

“Yeah, thank god,” you said, chuckling. “Morning sickness kicked my ass.”

JJ laughed, then shuddered. “Oh, I remember. Is Emily taking good care of you?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “The best. She’s amazing. I couldn’t do it without her.”

“Well, I’ll try to keep her home as much as I can,” JJ told you with a wink.

“Thanks, JJ.” You squeezed her hand.

“And, you know, if you need anything, we’re here,” she added. “Even if it’s just to call and talk about the shitty parts of being pregnant.”

You groaned, but smiled. “Please. And thank you. Emily’s here and she’s great, but…”

“It’s different when it’s your body.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Reid came to stand awkwardly between you and JJ. You were all silent for a moment before Spencer blurted, “I’m sorry I talked about your breasts.”

You and JJ burst out laughing.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you assured him, patting his back.

“I’m really happy for you both,” he said, so straightforward, so awkward and sincere. You loved that about him.

You noticed Hotch standing off to the side, waiting his turn to speak with you, and excused yourself to join him.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” he said, smiling softly, wrapping you in a quick hug. Hugs were rare for Hotch, and you felt honored to be a recipient.

“Thank you,” you said, and you really meant it. You stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the team gather around Emily, smiling and laughing. You beamed at her. She looked so happy. You loved seeing her happy. You loved seeing her loved as deeply and as well as her team loved her.

“I hope you know,” Hotch ventured, his voice serious. “That I do everything I can to make sure she comes back home to you safely.”

“I know,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Thank you, Hotch.”

The last to approach you was Derek, and he had already known. Emily had told him just a few days earlier, swearing him to secrecy until the dinner party.

He smirked at you, pulling you into him for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed.

There weren’t any words needed, not with you and Derek. He was Emily’s best friend. He was over for dinner or video games or a movie at least a few times a month. He was like a brother to her. And, therefore, he was like a brother to you, too.

You both watched Emily, who was showing the rest of the team a photo of a peapod to illustrate the baby’s size. Her face was alight, her cheeks tinged pink with joy and probably a little too much wine. God, you loved her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Prentiss so excited.”

“Me neither.”

Derek looked down at you, smiling. “You know she loves you more than anything, right?”

You nodded, feeling so happy you thought you might cry. “I know.”

“She picked good,” he said, his arm around your shoulder.

“Are you gonna be Uncle Derek?” you asked him. You hadn’t talked about it with Emily, but you were sure she’d be on board.

“Girl, I better be Uncle Derek.”

You laughed and rested your hand over your belly, your heart full. This baby was going to be so, so loved.

Later that night, Emily crawled into bed next to you, flopping onto her back and grinning like an idiot.

“Happy?” you asked, eyes shining as you stared at her.

She exhaled deeply, her tongue pushing at her bottom lip then, so quickly it took your breath away, flipped over and kissed you. It was a happy kiss, a light kiss, a kiss that wasn’t quite a kiss because you both were smiling and laughing so much.

“You make me happy,” she said, her hands gently cupping your face. You pecked her on the lips once more before her nose crinkled up in a smile and she fell to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying her head on your chest.

You held her close and kissed the top of her head, running your fingers through her hair. So soft, like it was running water. It wasn’t often that Emily let you hold her, and it was even less often that she initiated it. So you held her tight, taking advantage of the rare and beautiful moment. Maybe it would become less rare, you thought. Maybe the little peapod was making Emily go soft. She already was, of course, but she had a hard time admitting it, showing it.

“You deserve to be happy,” you told her as she drew lazy circles on your stomach with her fingers. “You deserve people who love you.”

She was quiet for a while, and when she finally replied, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You really think so?”

You kissed her head a few more times for good measure. “I do.”

Emily took your hand and kissed your palm, holding onto it and twisting your wedding ring back and forth. Neither you nor Emily said anything else, and you didn’t need to. Everything unsaid had already been said, time and time again, year after year. All the words of love and dedication and admiration–you’d said them so often that sometimes the silence simply spoke for you. And sometimes you just held each other and let it.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #bau team #bau #bau fanfic #bau x fem!reader

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icallhimjoey · 8 months ago

Text

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: uh-oh here we GO! the girls voted and the girls won, so here we are! the no-longer-flatmates-flatmate fic - you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was only small, but definitely there. Ugly. Green. Growing. With potential to do real harm. It crawled around and scoped him out, exploring his heart from all different angles, carefully tasting it.

It hadn’t bitten him yet, but Joe knew if he lost sight of it – if he stopped trying to control it – that eventually, it would. And it would hurt. It didn’t exactly feel great now, but once it’d sink its teeth in, Joe knew he’d be done for.

He remembered when it still good. Still nice. Warm. And soft. And joyous, all full of love.

It used to be kind and sweet and would make him smile until his cheeks were quite literally cramping.

But it’d changed. It’d turned bad.

He wished he could’ve seen it coming.

It was a good thing that he found he was able to easily control it with rational thought. Problem was that rational thought had the habit of abandoning him once it got dark outside and he was alone in his flat.

His new flat.

Where everything was his.

Where everything got put in places that he chose. All his things were where he wanted them, all catering towards his routine. Which was why a basket of underwear made it into a bathroom cupboard, and why a shelf got put up near the balcony door, so he had a place to keep his cigarettes and a lighter. Gone were the days of rummaging through coat pockets ‘til he found what he was looking for.

It was sort of great, Joe wasn’t going to lie, living on his own.

It didn’t look quite as nice, not quite as homey, but Joe was sure he’d soon learn what the place was missing. He didn’t worry about it. There were more important things to worry about. Like, how quick dust built up into bunnies underneath the sofa and how every time he’d open his front door, it’d waft out from underneath, only to settle in the middle of the room for everyone to see. Or how somehow he panicked so much about keeping his plants alive that he was systematically overwatering all of them.

Idiot.

It was fine.

Rational thinking.

It was all fine.

Things were different now.

Good different.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Joe joked as he let you in, pointing out the large bouquet of flowers in your hands.

His place already smellt amazing. Joe made a good roast, and had one going now, things in the oven, bubbling and simmering away.

“If I never did things I shouldn’t do, life would be very boring,” you said, laying the colourful bunch down on his island.

“Did... wait, did you actually get those for me?”

“Have you got a vase?” you were already opening cabinet doors. “You don’t, do you?”

When you didn’t get a reply, you turned to see Joe stare at the flowers. He looked a little dumbfounded.

“Joe?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you and blinked a few times. “Oh, um...” he squeezed his eyes shut a second, trying to gather his thoughts.

Took too long, you thought.

“A vase?” you repeated, trying very hard to keep a straight face, to not let the smallest inkling of a smile slip through.

“Sorry, I don’t... I don’t think I’ve got a vase.”

Why the fuck would he own a vase, Joe thought.

“I’ll get you one as a housewarming gift,” you found a pitcher. “This’ll do for now.”

There was evidence on the counter of what Joe had been in the middle of, cutting veggies, preparing the gravy. But as you filled the pitcher with water, Joe still kind of hovered in the same spot in silence. Looked at the flowers that you’d brought in and felt silly for how those made him feel.

When you placed the pitcher in the middle of the island and reached for the bouquet, you broke his trance, and Joe softly laughed at himself.

“This is... my God, this is so sweet? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before.”

“Well,” you smiled back, about to throw stones into your own windows. “I didn’t get them for you.”

“Oh?” Joe immediately felt embarrassed. Mortified. Felt the skin of his neck flush with heat.

“I got them for your flat.”

Got him.

Joe let out the breath he was holding in defeat, dropping his head and smiling. Scoffed softly at himself because you were joking, and he was an idiot.

“You know, give it some colour. Give me something nice to look at when I’m here.” you plopped the flowers into the pitcher and didn’t get the chance to make it look nice, to arrange it a little, because before you could, you got picked up by the waist and shaken about. You shriek-laughed a loud, “No!”

“Something nice to look at?” Joe pressed his face into your cheek as you squealed through your giggles.

“Am I not nice to look at, huh?” Joe squeezed extra tight before he put you down, turning you in his arms and keeping you real close.

“You’re nice to look at,” you said sweetly, still grinning widely, nose nudging up at his. “If I could put you in a vase and arrange you all nice, I would.”

Joe snorted, and you felt it on your face.

“Hmm. You’re funny.”

You got kissed by soft lips that almost felt shy to kiss you.

“Don’t get me a vase.”

And then you got kissed a little harder. Bit more firm.

“I’ll get my own.”

“No,” you objected, speaking right into his mouth. “You’ll get a stupid one with like, frosted writing on, or something. Live, love, laugh.”

You felt Joe’s smile as he kissed you harder, both arms squeezing as they wrapped around your waist tighter. You sighed into Joe’s affection and took great comfort in the fact that you were alone. You were outside of your flat, which was still wild in your opinion, but at least you were alone.

Alone was good.

Joe’d gotten into the habit of showing affection when you were around others, around strangers, and you didn’t think you were ever going to get used to it.

The first time Joe reached to hold your hand, you’d nearly had a panic attack.

It wasn’t very cold, but the wind was cutting. Hurt your forehead as you walked and made you hunch as you pulled up your shoulders to shield yourself as best you could. Joe’s hand finding yours was a welcome warmth for your cold fingers, but it still made you fall silent as you tensed up.

Joe just held on for a few steps, and looked at you. You could see him stare from your peripheral, could feel the burn of it high up in your cheeks, and tried your best to ignore it.

“You can relax.” Joe humorously said, speaking softly and leaning in a little to make sure you could hear him.

“I am relaxed.” You immediately argued, because holding hands with Joe shouldn’t be weird. It should actually be normal. You tangled up with your full bodies more days than you didn’t when you shared a flat. If anything, Joe’s touches were exactly what turned you lax, all floppy and boneless.

“S’just cold.”

“Hmm,” Joe sounded unsure, very obviously not believing you, and squeezed your fingers a couple of times. When you didn’t smile, Joe let his own drop too, and asked if you were okay.

“Fine.” You reassured, growing a little defensive. If Joe could just stop talking about it, that’d be great.

“Should I– do you want me to let go?”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, sounding a little squeaky, but you doubled down with a squeeze of your own.

Joe took it, accepted it, albeit a little unsure if maybe he’d made the wrong move here. But you’d walked along, and you held hands, and when you fell into random conversation again, holding your hand became something Joe stopped thinking about. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along yours, and at one point used his grasp to pull you in front of him when you had to share a narrow bit of pavement with oncomers.

You weren’t like Joe.

Not for a single second had you been able to be as casual about it as Joe had been.

You focussed on your hand the whole while you walked, and couldn’t help but check to see if others were looking at it. If strangers that passed you looked down at your hands. To check if they could see. If they somehow knew that you’d never done this before.

You had.

But not like this. Not outside. Not in public.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hold Joe’s hand, but there was something about this new phase you were in, where Joe walked over to yours to pick you up to go out for dinner together. Where he had to ring the doorbell and ask if he could quickly come up to use the toilet before you left. Where he pretended he didn’t know where the bathroom was and made you show him the way. Where he faked being anxious when you left your flat, saying that he hoped you liked the restaurant he booked a table at. Where he nervously asked if you liked Italian food, as if you hadn’t shared a million pizzas together.

Things were different now, and although you were close, would often do everything you could to dissolve into his skin, walking hand in hand through the streets of London felt insane. Like you were moving too fast, even though you understood how silly that sounded.

You’d spent that entire walk thinking of a natural reason to let go of his hand, and Joe had felt your fingers twitch. Felt how you seemed to change you mind about it every three seconds. But, you’d said he could hold onto you, so, he simply did.

It wasn’t until you reached the restaurant and used the heavy door as an excuse to wiggle your fingers from Joe’s hand, using both of yours to pull it open.

Baby steps, Joe thought as he smirked to himself, astonished that he’d gotten to hold your hand out in public for over ten minutes.

He was sure you’d slap him away the second he even attempted to intertwine your fingers together.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly what you did the first time Joe tried to lean in for a quick peck on the lips as you said goodbye to each other outside of his flat.

You’d been out, and were both in a bit of a rush to get home. You thought that the way you’d hugged his arm for a second was plenty goodbye. You’d pressed the side of your face to his bicep and said you’d see him later.

You’d reached the point where you wanted to go cross the street as Joe would walk the other way to get to his front door, and when you tried to step away, he yanked you right back by the elbow.

The way you recoiled away from him was so extreme, it startled Joe. You almost made it look like he was about to hit you.

“Jesus,” he mumbled under his breath, and you immediately apologised. You stepped back closer to him, were about to accept a quick kiss as an apology, but let your eyes nervously dart around to see if there were other people. If there were witnesses.

Joe just looked at you, blinked a few times and then, instead of leaning in for a quick kiss, squeezed you in your side.

“Calm down. Call me when you get home.”

And you’d blushed at how Joe’d smiled at you before he turned to head inside. Your face had remained hot until you got home where you then had to take a moment to shake all the nervous jitters from your body.

It was such a weird spot to be in, Joe thought.

How he couldn’t get too close if there was the slightest chance of someone seeing, but to have you literally whine at him inbetween his sheets if he didn’t touch you in the right spot with the right pressure at the right speed.

But steps were being made in the right direction.

You each had you own place now, and Joe made a point to sometimes not see you for a few days. He kind of enjoyed getting to miss you. He liked how his stomach did flips when you’d ring his doorbell after not having been over for a few days. He liked how absence made his heart grow fonder, and how that felt healthy.

Joe assumed you felt the same way; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he did, but surely you also understood how this was at least more normal.

He never thought that what the two of you were before was toxic.

It was just... weird.

Good weird.

But this was better.

Still a little weird, he wasn’t going to lie. But better.

He got to tell you to call him when you got home now. He got to invite you over to his flat for Sunday roast now. And you would then come and bring him flowers now.

Joe had never received flowers before. Well, maybe he had. But not like this. Not from a girl who brought them just for him. Just because. He kind of loved it. Kind of loved you.

“God, you were right.” Joe said, eyes unblinking, comfortably staring.

Both satisfied and full after an early dinner, the two of you laid out on Joe’s sofa - the one that took six weeks and then two more to arrive - and both looked at the bouquet up on the kitchen island. You were tucked into his side, with one of his arms slung around your frame. You held one of his hands with both of yours and absentmindedly played with his fingers.

“I don’t know how this works but they kind of make the whole room look better.”

“They do.” You agreed, smiling, because you did that. You turned your head, tilting up to look at Joe’s face. “Please let me pick out a vase for you, though.”

Joe’s grin slowly grew as he said, “Absolutely not. Might just keep the pitcher for flowers only, I kind of like it.”

“Ugh,” you grimaced. “This is such a boy’s flat.”

“Well,” Joe started, raising his eyebrows, finally breaking eye-contact with the fresh bloom, tucking in his chin to look down at you. “I am a boy, so, that checks out.”

For a moment you just looked at each other, smiling, cuddled up into the corner like you always were cuddled up into the corner together. When you saw Joe flick his eyes down to your lips, you pulled the hand you were still holding closer to bite right into the skin between his index finger and thumb.

Joe pretended to flinch, but you were barely leaving marks as you smiled through the bite, big eyes looking up at him. Joe took a moment to just take you in. The way you looked at him had him biting his own lip before he tried to grab hold of one of your hands to pull into his mouth.

You were already scream-laughing and trying your best to pull your hand away before he even got close. It left you in a wrestling pile of limbs, Joe with his mouth open, growling and ready to bite at whatever got close enough. He ended up getting at bit of your sleeve in between his teeth, pinning you down into the soft seat-cushions and he felt drunk with joy.

He was so fucking happy.

Pretty girl in his flat, giggling away on his sofa, and she’d brought him flowers. It was kind of disgusting how he’d turned to goop on the inside.

Joe didn’t wait for your giggles to die out to get his lips on yours and kiss you silly.

There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was sticky and sugary sweet and Joe loved the taste it.

Loved how it bubbled over and leaked into his stomach.

Loved how it swirled into his limbs and made him reach for your hand to hold when you were walking outside.

Loved how it made him put his arm around your shoulders to pull you tightly into his side as you waited to get your coffees whilst the barista prepared them.

Loved how it grew as he took the lead on this new way of being together the way you had done before when you still lived together.

It made Joe want to introduce you to someone as his girlfriend, knowing full well that you hadn’t had that conversation yet, and that you’d likely have a melt down, but God.

It was just what he wanted to do, he couldn’t help it.

He wouldn’t.

There was a high probability that you’d actually murder him if he pulled a stunt like that.

The fact that you were kissing like this outside of your flat right now was already sort of stretching it, Joe knew.

You let Joe kiss you on his sofa for a minute. Let him slide his nose around yours with an open mouth that hovered over yours inbetween kisses. He made you work for it, having to lift up your head for more when he teased you for too long.

When you felt how Joe started readjusting his position on top of you, you knew you had to break it off.

“Hmm– Joe, no, I gotta–”

“Hm?”

“I gotta go, there’s– stop, there’s a potential flatmate coming over in a bit, I gotta– Joe!”

Joe finally broke away with an annoyed grumble leaving his throat as he did.

“Fine.”

“I can... I could always come back after?”

Joe shifted enough to let you escape the sofa.

“Hmm, you could, but I do have an early morning, so it’s probably not worth the trouble.” Joe sighed, lying back with an arm curled behind his head, watching you twist your clothes so it all sat right again.

“No?”

“I’ll probably be asleep by the time you make it back here.”

“Well,” you started, slinging your arms into your coat. “All depends on how long this is going to take. If it’s another 19-year-old trying to negotiate for a 30-70 rent split first thing, I’ll only be a second.”

“God, for your sake, I hope it’s not another student. But for my sake...” Joe made big eyes, giving you a suggestive look that broke into a smile when you laughed.

You gave Joe a last quick kiss as you bent over the sofa and told him you’d see him later, all casual.

Joe’s smile lingered as he watched you walk out.

“Call me when you get home!”

Yea... there was something living inside Joe’s chest.

And it was cuddly and fuzzy and comfortable and good...

For now.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

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