#actin like it was intentional

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

So. Turns out he hates me (in part) cause I'm the reason he's here

[chvoswxtch]

teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand. 

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place. 

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it. 

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance  made the gun almost wobble in your hands. 

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try. 

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier. 

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered. 

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity. 

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you. 

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war. 

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ‘bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually. 

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him. 

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat.  Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows. 

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently. 

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly. 

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment. 

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. 

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs. 

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision. 

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was. 

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling. 

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head. 

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[laiiaaa]

Carmy with a stressed cranky gf getting her degree and he’s just so good to her ughhhhhhh (so self-indulgent)

“Carmen, could you—could you just, fuckin’—…watch where you’re going?”

He freezes where he took a misstep, leaving your laptop’s charger dangling near the floor after accidentally unplugging it. A simple little thing, a dumb mistake made while caught up in something else mentally. A matter of a charger extended beyond its comfortable reach. It’d be fixed in seconds, but you weren’t having it.

A confused look washes over him. “I-I’m sorry, baby—” He knows you’re in one of those moods—he always knows—and lowers to pick up the cord. “Lemme plug it back in for you—”

“Or you could just not walk right into it,” you snap, fingers tapping away at your keyboard, face illuminated in a blueish hue from the screen.

“Hey.” He perks right back up after fixing the charger, but you don’t look back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t start that w’me, c’mon.” He comes a little closer, perched at the end of the couch right beside you. “You’re in a mood.”

“I’m not.” You definitely are.

“Baby.” Instinctively, his hand comes to rub your shoulder, his thumb presses just a little firmer along the crook of your neck. “Take a break for the night.”

“I need to finish up with this—”

“‘M not asking.” He gives you that look, with his hands extended to silently demand you hand over your computer. “It’s a Friday night. C’mon.”

You pout, and you huff, and you give him those eyes that tell him you don’t want to, but you save your document and hand it over anyway, quickly curling into the end of the couch and not making a move when he sits next to you.

“You mad at me?” he asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, a little hurt when you don’t melt into his touch like you usually do.

You keep your eyes glued to the wall, not paying him any mind. “No.”

“Then why’re you always workin’, huh?” He squeezes you a little tighter, bringing you deeper into his embrace as he cups your jaw—with those firm, strong hands of his that somehow always have you pliant—and turns you to look up at him. “Every time I come home you’re on the computer with that look on your face.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Smiling, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah you do.” Then to the furrow in your brow. “But it’s cute.”

He scatters slow, gentle kisses across your face, from your temples, to your cheeks, to your jaw, until he finds your lips and takes them carefully, relishing in your act of apology when your hands circle around his forearms and kiss him a little deeper. And slowly, he feels the tenseness in your body begin to dissipate, feels you turn into him more.

Pulling away, still intent on figuring out your rut, he rests his forehead to yours. “Talk to me, baby. What’s got you actin’ all mean, hm?” His hands hold you close, and his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “Somethin’ I do you wanna talk about?”

“No—”

“No?” He’d be lying if he said a wave of relief washed over him. “What’s goin’ on then?”

“I’m—it’s just that—…” You sigh.

He waits patiently, knowing that by now he’s cracking open that shell. “‘S alright, hon, we can work it out.”

“Carmen, I just—” And your lip quivers, and your throat gets sore, and your vision gets bleary from tears emerging. “I have so much to do, and—…”

“For school?”

You nod against him. “It’s just—I get behind on one thing, and then there’s five other things I need to do, and I try to get ahead but then I don’t sleep, and—I-I’m just stressed, is all.”

“I know.” He coos gently at you and thumbs away your tears. “I know, ‘n you’ve been workin’ so hard, baby.”

“Well I’m still not getting anywhere.” Your throat tightens, and tears keep falling, and you feel your resolve crumbling, the last of your strength dissolving now that Carmen’s handling you so gently. “And I just feel so stupid all the time—”

“Uh-uh,” he nudges his nose against yours, “You don’t get to say that, you’re the smartest person I know.”

He pulls you away carefully, just to look you in the eye—and his gut wrenches, seeing you like this, all pouty and wet with tears, your lips salty when he kisses them slowly to mellow the racing of your heart.

With a calm hand he urges your head to rest against his chest, his lips lending a kiss to your temple. “So fuckin’ smart ‘n you don’t even know it.” Naturally, the rest of you follows, with his arms keeping you close, one wrapped around your waist to hold you tight as the other hand rests with on the back of your neck to soothe you, scratching gently at the nape of it. “Always blowin’ me away, baby, you’re so smart. So hardworkin’, too—”

“But Carm—” Your sobs choke you up then, and there’s a throb in your forehead that has you almost begging for sleep.

“Shhh, what is it?” His hand smooths up and down your back, his voice becomes gentler than ever. “Take a breath, c’mon, take a deep breath.”

You push yourself away from his chest, seeing the tears staining his white tee before you look up at him. “I’m sorry, Bear. All the stress, it’s—I’ve been so mean to you lately—” you don’t even process the vigorous shake of his head— “I’m sorry, Bear—”

“Hey, hey, baby, stop—” He wipes tears from your eyes before they get the chance to spill onto your cheeks. “Stop with that, would ya?” Another kiss to your forehead has you melting. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, slower, to your sob-bitten lips, like he wants you to taste his forgiveness.

“But I was mean to you, and I’m sorry—”

His chest physically aches because he knows there’s only so much he can do for you. “I know,” he tells you, “I know, baby, I got you. It’s okay.”

“I promise don’t mean it, Carmen—”

“Yeah, I know that, hon.” Pulling you tight to his chest again, his strong arms wrap around you fully, and he presses kisses to the skin where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “You’re workin’ yourself to the bone, y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, just happy to be held, to be swallowed whole by his warmth.

“You promise to rest up from now on?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah? Not even listenin’, huh?”

“Mhm.” You burrow into him just a little deeper, eyes slipping shut.

He scoffs, but it’s full of love. “It’s gettin’ late now.” He shuffles you closer to him with little effort, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to encourage them around his hips. “Let’s get you t’bed, hm? C’mon—” he hoists you to his hip with a subtle grunt— “Up you go, baby, that’s it—”

And in the brief minute or two it takes for him to turn out the lights in your shared apartment, and the twenty-some paces to the bedroom, you’re lulled off to sleep in his embrace, stoking that fire in his chest that keeps him going—because knowing you feel safe with him, secure with him, is all he really needs.

[toruskiii]

MR. TELEPHONE MAN!

"𝘔𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺'𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!"

Synopsis: Pick up, pick up, pick up— still no answer. Desperately trying to reach you after your argument, Boothill finds himself repeatedly directed to the operator's automated voicemail. 'Please hang up and try again, baby.' Genre: Comfort, fluff Character: Boothill x gn!reader Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of Dan Heng, a little strayed from canon events maybe, slightly ooc, mentions of prior argument, slight angst if you squint, half of the fic is just Boothill and Dan Heng having a heart to heart bro talk lol [masterlist] [about me]

Boothill cursed himself silently, though as vigorously as he could manage since his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning. Walking briskly around the Parlor car, phone gripped tightly in hand, he couldn't escape the relentless sound of the dial tone on repeat. Meanwhile, Dan Heng observed him with a quizzical expression, one brow arched in curiosity.

Witnessing Boothill in such evident distress was a rare sight for Dan Heng. The ranger typically exuded an aura of nonchalant confidence, often adopting a "fudge it, we ball" attitude towards life's challenges. Consequences were either dealt with head-on or circumvented through sheer audacity.

Reckless. Yes, that word seemed to define him perfectly. And perhaps that's why he was so visibly agitated now. Boothill's thumb hovered over the name 'sweetcheeks' on his phone, a term that made Dan Heng cringe inwardly, yet he dismissed it knowing it was a manifestation of love.

"May I inquire as to your purpose for boarding the Astral Express today? If your intention is merely to cause a disturbance, I suggest you reconsider," Dan Heng stated firmly, crossing his arms and adopting his usual stoic expression, his brow arching slightly. While he and the other nameless welcomed all aboard the Express with open arms, Boothill remained a figure of caution, especially given recent events, despite the significant assistance he had provided.

"What? Ain't you the one who said I could drop by anytime?" Boothill retorted, his frown deepening as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His attention flickered momentarily to his vibrating phone before returning with disappointment when he heard the all-too-familiar phrase that had been echoing for the past half-hour. "Sorry, please hang up and call again."

"I never made such a claim," Dan Heng countered, a faint hint of amusement dancing in his narrowed eyes as he observed the disgruntled expression on Boothill's face. "Apart from the conductor, Pom Pom, none of my colleagues have had the pleasure of meeting you. It would be prudent for you to acquaint yourself with them before boarding."

Boothill let out a derisive snort, his thumb instinctively jabbing at the 'dial again' button as he locked eyes with Dan Heng. "Aw, come on now. The conductor already gave me the green light. Ain't that sufficient? And you, you actin' like a youngster. Do I gotta meet your folks before I can come over and play?"

Instantly, Boothill regretted his words, his lips forming a tight line as he realized he had overstepped. "Well, shoot. My apologies," he conceded, his voice softened with regret as he retrieved his hat and made his way to the nearest couch, slumping down with a heavy sigh. This was his perpetual dilemma— he was too forthright, too bold with his language. His words spilled out before he could filter them.

Boothill was baffled by his own behavior. Apologizing to strangers or mere acquaintances came naturally to him, the words slipping out effortlessly, whether they were genuine or not. But when it came to you, it was as if his internal wiring malfunctioned. His mechanical body buzzed with static, sparks dancing erratically, and his words emerged in a tangled mess. The simple phrases— "I love you" or "I'm sorry"— seemed trapped behind a barricade, struggling to find their way past his lips.

"Forget it," Dan Heng sighed, striding over to the dejected figure slumped on the couch. "But do enlighten me as to why you're here just to make a phone call, presumably to your significant other? Is it a must to reach them while aboard the Express?"

Boothill simply shrugged, emitting a grunt of frustration before pulling his hat down over his face, a gesture of defeat. "There ain't no signal anywhere else, I reckon. Figured your train might lend me a hand, even just a tad."

As the number continued to ring with no response from you, Boothill finally opened up, his voice softening as he admitted, "Got into a spat with my partner."

With those words, he began to dismantle the barriers surrounding his emotions, allowing them to spill forth within the confines of the Express. Dan Heng listened attentively, offering a supportive presence to the troubled man.

Boothill couldn't shake the feeling of remorse gnawing at him. He knew he had deeply upset you this time, and he had no one to blame but himself. Who wouldn't be hurt if their own partner hurled insults at them, especially when all they wanted was to show care and concern? Boothill couldn't help but imagine how he would feel if the roles were reversed, and the mere thought made his stomach churn.

"I think I really got under their skin— no doubt about it," he muttered to himself, replaying the scene in his mind where you were left with a furrowed brow and glistening tears threatening to spill. In that moment of frustration, he couldn't fathom why you would bother caring about him. After all, he was no longer flesh and blood; he was encased in metal, his heart silent, and his tear ducts dry.

He couldn't feel pain or sorrow like he used to. So why should you waste your concern on someone who couldn't be harmed or hurt? He couldn't feel anything beyond his face. There was no need for you to worry about him getting into trouble or getting hurt, because he wouldn't feel it.

It was a selfish thought, he admitted, yet at the same time, it wasn't. After all, you were human— a fragile being whose existence could be snuffed out in an instant— while he remained invulnerable. So why waste your energy worrying about him, when he should be the one worrying about you?

As Boothill drowned in his sorrows, his metal hand tapping incessantly on his phone in a desperate attempt to reach you, Dan Heng listened intently, a somber hum escaping his lips as he nodded along.

'Sorry, please hang up and call again.'

Well, fork me.

"Have you apologized?"

"I want to," Boothill admitted, his brows furrowing with guilt. He mulled over various ways he could make it up to you without actually uttering those two crucial words—an apology. Perhaps he could buy you your favorite cake, shower you with affectionate kisses until you couldn't help but giggle, and lavish you with words of admiration.

"That sounds more like a birthday celebration, Boothill. It would be selfish and ignorant of you to avoid apologizing," Dan Heng interjected, cutting through Boothill's thoughts with a firm reminder.

"But— But it's dang near impossible to say those words!" Boothill groaned, frustration evident in his voice as he sat upright on the couch, dialing your number once more, silently pleading for you to answer. "It's like pulling teeth."

"And that's precisely the issue you need to address," Dan Heng replied firmly, his gaze unwavering.

The Ranger slumped back, averting his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of defeat. "…What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Apologize."

"…you—alright. Fine."

"But apologize like you actually mean it, not just because you have to."

As Dan Heng's words sank in, Boothill felt a sudden jolt of realization. Apologize like he meant it— not just because it was expected of him. The gravity of those words hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to freeze in place, his wide eyes meeting Dan Heng's steady gaze.

With a nod and an encouraging thumbs up from Dan Heng, Boothill was left to ponder his next move in solitude. Did he truly mean it, this apology? Absolutely. It shouldn't be so difficult to utter those words, right?

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar automated message playing once more: "Sorry, please hang up and call again, baby."

A small gasp escaped Boothill's lips as he jolted upright, his hands trembling as he fumbled with his phone. Could it be? Was it really you on the other end? "W-wait—! Darlin'? Sweetcheeks? Is that really you?" he stammered, lifting the phone to his ear and pacing in circles, heart pounding with anticipation.

"Forgot my voice already?" Your retort hit Boothill like a punch to the gut, and he could almost see the frown forming on your face. He let out a noise of frustration, his head bowed as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his jacket, rendered momentarily speechless. "Erm— nah. How could I?"

If he still possessed skin and flesh, Boothill was certain his palms would be sweating profusely right now. A man who had faced countless bounties on his head, vanquishing his enemies with a flick of his gun, and executing daring escapes from perilous heights— now reduced to a speechless fool at the mere sound of his lover's voice.

"I, uh… I wanted to talk to you," he finally managed to breathe out, his voice laced with uncertainty. He could almost hear the slight scoff on the other end of the line, a sound that made his heart ache with regret.

"About what? I don't think there's much to talk about after the tantrum you threw at me," your voice came through, laced with a hint of bitterness. Were you being immature? Perhaps. But you had every right to be upset, every right to be salty.

Boothill swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he stumbled over his words, the apology he wanted to offer caught in his throat. "I- uh, um…" He cursed inwardly, his free hand nervously tugging at a few strands of his hair in a panic.

Darn it, why didn't he ask Dan Heng when the Express would reach the planet where you resided?

"I wanted to say that I…I'm so—" He groaned in frustration, slapping his hand against his face as he gritted his teeth in irritation. Why was it so blasted difficult to express himself? "I-I'm sorry, darlin'. Truly, I am."

The silence from your end only intensified Boothill's nerves, sending a wave of panic coursing through him. Was this it? Were you going to leave him, leaving him to wander aimlessly without a home once more? "Please, sweetheart. I'm pourin' my heart out here," he pleaded softly, his voice trembling with genuine sincerity.

He listened intently, straining to hear any sign of your response. From the muffled sounds of sheets rustling, he could only guess that you might be on the verge of tears again, and it tore at his nonexistent heart. "I'm sorry for…for yellin' and such. I was actin' selfish and ignorant, and I know that was wrong of me," he confessed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and guilt as he cast his gaze downward.

Desperation clawed at him, the longing for your touch, the warmth of your presence beside him each morning, the comfort of your embrace— it all flooded his senses. He yearned for a home to return to, a sanctuary where he could find solace in your love once more.

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," Boothill vowed earnestly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.

He heard a quiet sigh escape your lips, and he squirmed with anticipation, eagerly awaiting your response.

"You've got 10 minutes to get your ass back into our home, right this instant," you blurted out, attempting to inject a joking tone into your words, but Boothill could detect the slight tremor in your voice.

His heart soared with relief and joy at your words. "Alright— okay, I'll be there. Just let me ask Dan Heng when we'll be arriving, alright?" he replied eagerly, his demeanor brightening considerably. This was his chance to make things right, to rebuild what he had almost shattered. He wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers.

As Boothill's metal boots echoed through the halls of the Express, his heart lightened at the sound of your voice. "I miss you," you confessed, the sniffle in your tone tugging at his wired heartstrings.

A chuckle escaped him, his hand reaching for the doorknob that led to Dan Heng's room. "I missed you too, sweetcheeks. I'll make it up to you, I swear on my bounty," he promised, determination lacing his words.

He could sense the relief in your giggle as you bid him goodbye and hung up, prompting him to knock on Dan Heng's door. "Yo, bro! When we makin' a stop at my planet?"

"We're not," Dan Heng's muffled voice responded, causing Boothill to freeze in his tracks. "We're stopping at Penacony to go to The Reverie to pick up my colleagues."

"…We're what."

[arachine]

cross-court . . . (๑>◡๑)

synopsis :: after a long day of patrolling, bakugou wants nothing more than to unwind by taking his furry companion on a stroll near the park. what he doesn’t expect, though, is to run into you. genre :: mature warnings :: smut (18+), characters are in their mid-twenties, phone sex, bakugo is lowkey a creep, maybe just a tiny bit of a loser, mentions of alcohol word count:: 3.7 k note:: this is a really old fic that i edited a bit. couldn’t be asked to edit it further! just wanted to get smth out >_<

The soreness in his bones is definitive proof of a hard day's work. He’d been summoned earlier that afternoon to patrol the perimeter of Kyushu (well, he was asked to pick up a shift for Kirishima and felt obligated to comply), and hadn’t caught a break since. Bakugou expected this much, though. The days and nights were growing warmer, which could only mean that there’d be a significant increase in crime—to his disdain. 

Although he spent most of the day chasing down criminals, there was currently only one thing occupying his mind. And if he could successfully (and quickly) get to his apartment without any obstacles, then he’d have a little more time to see…you. 

He’s not exactly sure when he first noticed you. It’s something that he tries to recall often, but he only ever comes up short, ultimately guessing that you were always there in the background on the days he wasn’t paying attention. The earliest memory of you—and the only one he can vividly remember—is sometime last spring. There you were at the community tennis court, with your racket in hand, dashing gracefully across the cement and skillfully obstructing your opponent’s strokes. 

If it were any other day, sure, he might’ve paid you no mind, but the way your eyes gleamed with determination—like you were certain that you’d win—is what made his stare linger a little longer. Your force on the court was fierce, and care-free, and all encompassing, and if he had a say, he’d say that you were in your own little bubble. So, that’s what he associates you with now. Spring. The season that brought warmth, and clear skies, and cool breezes, and cherry blossoms. 

The elevator ride up to his apartment is short, just as short as the conversation he had with the pro hero who happened to enter the elevator with him. He responds to their attempts at small talk with half-hearted grunts, and sometimes he says nothing at all. Honestly, he doesn’t know why people even bother. Soon, the elevator arrives on his floor with a ding, and he exits without saying a word. 

“Yeah I—oh! Have a good day, Dynamite. Nice tal-” T he elevator shuts before they can finish their sentence. 

As soon as he jiggles his keys in front of the door, his ears pick up the familiar sound of heavy paws and excited barks that belong to his furry companion. Instantly, he’s greeted with slobbery kisses and licks. 

“Alright already…y’damn mutt,” Bakugou hisses, pretending to hate the affection, “quit actin’ like I haven't seen ya in days.” After a minute or two of playing around, he kisses his teeth to call the dog over to where he stands with its collar and leash. 

“Where are we going? Are we going on a walk, girl?” he smoothes a hand over her coat after adjusting the collar around her neck, “we gonna see that pretty girl? Hm, Nala? Yeah we fucking are. Let’s go.” 

He takes this route often just to see you. It’s pathetic, really, and it’s also embarrassingly far from his apartment complex. Makes him feel like one of those creeps who frequent the park to get a glimpse at you—which was what he was kinda already doing—albeit, he liked to persuade himself into thinking his intentions were of pure heart. 

At first, he told himself that he just liked watching you because you were good. You were strong, and fast—quick on your toes and quick with your words. Sometimes, he’d pick up on the shit talking between you and your opponents, and he’d laugh. All low and hearty, nodding his head like he was on the receiving end of the jab. But then he realized one day how odd he must’ve appeared to passerbyers like himself who probably witnessed him laughing along. 

You reminded him of himself, though. And as much as he tried to tell himself that this—or whatever this really was— was just pure and unadulterated admiration, he knew it was just bullshit. Because now he wasn’t just noticing things like your strength, and your quick-wittedness, and your drive for triumph. No, he was starting to take interest in other things—other thoughts. Thoughts that were beginning to sound a whole lot like: ‘I wonder what color panties she’s wearing’ and a lot less like ‘she’s so cool’. 

Soon, every thought at the forefront of his mind was becoming sullied with fantasies of you. He was gradually becoming hyper-aware of the fact that you had a body. And yes, you had arms, and hands, and legs, and feet, and skin—in the way that everyone does—but he was starting to notice something. Your figure.

The cords of muscle in your calves (sinewy and taut, in the way that only muscles can be), your neck, the sleekness of it—a precursor to your chest, and your torso, and your ass. God, your damned ass, and your damned, stupid fucking tennis skirts. It drove him crazy. Seeing you frolick all around the court, in those little skirts that did fuck all at keeping you covered. 

And as much as he wanted to pretend that seeing a flash of your cute little panties for a modicum of a second was the biggest of his concerns…He can’t. Because regardless of his faux disdain for your prancing around in tight clothes, it’s what keeps bringing him back. And he’d keep coming back. Again, and again, and again, and…again, until he worked up the nerve to say something. 

Today he finds that nerve quickly. Not intentionally, unfortunately, but by force. Because today? Today the odds were working in his favor. Today his dog’s dumbass ball happened to roll a little too far in your court. Far enough for it to roll all the way under the gate and to your feet, presenting itself like a silver platter.

Fucking great, he thinks. He wasn’t prepared in the slightest to talk to you, at least not today. But today wasn’t just a day; today was the worst of days, and shit was hitting the fan fare more than he would’ve liked. He’s pulled from his reverie when Nala gets the bright idea to run after the ball, and before he notices, she’s already up and tackling you over. 

So much for first impressions. He’d damn her straight to hell if he could (he wouldn’t), but then he figures he ought to thank his furry companion for piquing your interest because instead of freaking out (like a normal person would after being tackled by an unaccompanied dog), you receive her with open arms. All pets and giggles, praises and kisses. Nice, Nala. 

Now he’s standing there awkwardly, making that one ultra-specific face that owners make when their pets get loose and they don’t know whether to run pathetically after them or let them wreak havoc. Yeah, that one. All he can muster is a slanted smile and a wave of his hand, though from this far, he supposes he just looks weird. 

In a last-ditch attempt, he tries to lure Nala back to where he stands, but to no avail. She’s enamored with you. Giving you paws and kisses, exposing her tummy to you, wagging her tail–but most importantly she’s ignoring him! Maybe he would damn her to hell. 

“Phwt, Nala,” he whistles, rather badly, “stop ignoring me y’damned traitor. I’m your owner. You’re supposed to listen to me…” The last bit comes out in a whisper reserved for himself, but he guesses he wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was, because now you’re making eye contact and rising from your haunches. 

Fuck, you were coming. 

You jog over to where he stands stupidly in his tracks, yelling a loud, “hey, is this your dog?” from across the court. When you get within his proximity, he thinks you’re stretching your hand out to greet him (to which he offers his own), but your limb strategically misses his, and he freezes as he watches you drop the ball in his hand. The blond feels stupid, but he quickly fixes his composure, forcing a stiff smile on his face, trying not to gag at the amount of slobber on his hand. 

“Sorry about that, I get a little carried away whenever a dog’s around” you confess, looking down amicably at the furry giant. Bakugou shakes his head in response, mumbling a cool ‘it’s fine’ under his breath. You’re the first to initiate small talk—a pleasantry he finds vexing—but he finds himself hyper-fixating a little too hard on your lips that are spewing words of triviality. Every now and then, he remembers to nod his head, and then he subconsciously tells you his name when the question arises. 

His irises shift from your plump lips, to the dip in your collarbone, and then finally, they settle on the dew droplets of sweat that trickle down your chest. The pro hero notices that he hasn’t heard a damn thing you’ve said for the entire duration of this conversation. But now you’re looking at him, and your lips aren’t moving, and fuck, you were definitely waiting for a response. 

“Do you wanna fuck?” 

It takes him a second to register you’ve said something, and then it takes him another second to register if what he heard was truly what you’d said. 

“I'm sorry, what?” he queries, wrapping the leash around his hand once, then twice. 

“I asked if you wanted to exchange numbers?” you smile innocently, holding your phone out. 

“I've seen you and this pretty girl,” you start, bending down to pet the excited pup, “walking around for a while, and I figured…I don’t know—that I could play around with her some time. you know, if that’s alright with you…” 

Oh, so he must’ve heard you wrong the first time, he thinks. Looking down at his pup, the two make eye contact briefly before the furry companion barks in approval, wagging its tail eagerly. 

“Yeah, sure,” he nods and gestures for you to hand over your phone. After he punches his digits into your phone, you’re quick to exchange your phone for his, undergoing the same process of punching in little numbers.

When the two of you part ways, he opens his phone again to look at your contact. A small chuckle leaves his lips once he sees the name you saved your number under.

“Tennis girl,” he whispers to himself. 

The door to his apartment swings open swiftly, and he unclasps the leash around the dog’s neck before meandering over to the fridge to grab a beer. The first sip is pure elation. He doesn't drink everyday, but he likes to keep a case of this liquid-gold relief at his disposable. 

Before he can indulge in another sip, his phone buzzes with a notification. Nobody usually has the balls to bother him after his shifts, but he doesn’t think much of it. Not until it buzzes for a second time, then a third, and now he’s agitated enough to rest his drink on the counter. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethes, clobbering over to his room where he threw his phone. The screen flashes brightly from across the room and then fades to black. “Who the fuc—“

He taps the screen to see one message, two image attachments, and a voice memo, all from you. Skeptically, he opens his phone and clicks on your contact to see the messages. The first message says ‘figured you might like these’ and then his vermillion eyes flicker over to the two pictures. 

One is angled low enough to show the bottom of your ass, and the other is of you bent over with your hand pushing your panties to the side, cunt front and center, and dripping. Your face isn’t in either, but he knows it’s you because of that damned skirt. 

The longer he stares at the pictures, the more his face riddles with confusion, and the more his sweats become impossibly uncomfortable to be in. Then he remembers the voice memo. There's a brief silence before a familiar voice begins to speak. It's low and breathy.

“You know—shit—you’re so fucking clueless. I've s-seen you ogling me for months, and t-today I caught you staring at my chest,” he’s almost certain he can see you playing with your pussy with the lewd sounds that are coming through his phone. 

“I asked if you w-wanted to fuck, but you were—fuck—were too caught up in being a p-pervert. Guess you missed your chance...”

The voice note ends there. He utters a few proclivities into the air, sighing frustratedly as he falls back into the marshmallowy plush comforter of his bed. The tightness in his pants is annoying, really fucking annoying, but the dull ache in his cock is much more convincing than the small voice in his head. 

Fumbling to untie the drawstrings, he quickly pulls his sweats, along with his boxers, down to rest at the apex of his thighs. His cock is heavy against his abdomen, the mushroomy head burning scarlet and dripping with silk. God, he hated how easily he had fallen victim to your trickery. He was observant, and quick-witted, and could generally tell when a chick wanted to sleep with him. 

But this? He’d never expected this. Or whatever this really was. He'd watched you from afar all these months, overheard your many idle conversations with friends as you tied your tennis shoes on the bench, and he often caught glimpses of the smile that graced your face whenever you scored a point. You were innocent, then. at least, that’s the conclusion he came to after clandestinely peering into fleeting moments of your life—but now he figures that’s what you wanted him to see, allowed him to see. 

Bakugou's heart begins to thump a little faster with each firm tug to his length, the fixed lub-dub murmur of the organ now something completely unrecognizable. Just as he’s about to shut his eyes, he sees a flash of white from his peripheral view. It’s another text from you. 

tennis girl: left me on read :(

tennis girl: you touching yourself rn?

The boy huffs out a breath and throws his head back, continuing his ruthless ministrations on his aching cock. His ears perk up to the sound of yet another notification. 

tennis girl: want some help ;) 

“The fuck?” His eyes narrow into slits as he reads the message, but he’s too concerned with finishing to respond. When he thinks you’ve finally given up, you once again, prove him wrong. Instead of a few intermittent buzzes, his phone now rings irksomely. You’re requesting a facetime call. He stares at his reflection on the phone, uncertain if he should indulge you or finish without your ‘help’, as you put it, but impulsively picks it up. 

The camera is already flipped once the call goes through. You’re sitting on your bed with your legs spread, and a dildo nestled in your cunt. He hears the creak of the bed as your body thrashes and contorts from pleasure, and he hears the pretty moans that spill from your mouth. Of course, you’re the first to break the silence. 

“‘M so wet ‘cause of you,” your voice is sultry and sweet, “couldn’t wait to get home ’n touch myself…wanna touch you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he asks, you can’t really see him in the dimness of his room, but you know there’s mischief laced in his voice. “Y’wanna touch me? What would you do?” Bakugou squeezes his girth just before bringing a cupped hand to his mouth to spit. 

“Go on, tell me, and then I'll tell y’what I've been dying to do to you for months,” he flips the camera, smoothing the warm spit down his length. 

“Been thinkin’ about taking you to my apartment since i first saw you,” you bring the dildo out momentarily, “and you fucking me like this,” you slam the silicone back into your cunt. The dildo wasn’t nearly as big as he was, but the sight of it disappearing in and out of you made his dick jump pathetically. 

“That all, princess?” he mocks, like he’s unimpressed by your reply. You vehemently shake your head but realize he can’t see your face, so you open your mouth again to speak.

“No…I think a lot about sucking you off too,” you confess, “and how bad I want you to finish down my throat.” 

“So this whole time you’ve been thinking about me like this? What a dirty little slut,” he breathes, a light chuckle leaving his wet, bitten lips.

“Guess it’s my turn now, huh?” Your eyes flutter closed so that you can hone in on his words. 

“For starters,” he says matter-of-factly, “you might wanna get a bigger dildo, ‘cause my dick’s a lot bigger than that.”

“Really?” you pull the dildo out of your cunt and opt to use your fingers instead, resting the cold pads on the swell of your clit. Slowly, you circle the flesh, a few whimpers emitting from your throat. 

“Yeah, it’d—shit—stretch you out b-better too,” his breathing quickens as he begins to reach his peak. “Been wantin’ to dump my load in that pretty little cunt for a minute.” 

“What else?” there’s curiosity nestled under your tongue. You wanna say more to coax him on but find it rather difficult to form a coherent thought. 

“‘Bout your thighs wrapped ‘round my head, and stuffing you full of my fingers,” Bakugou’s calloused  grip is tighter now, sloppier. You assume from his occasional grunts and curses that he’s close to finishing, and judging by your intermittent pants, he comes to the conclusion that you are too. 

With determination, you continue your brutal ministrations on your clit, the nub wholly numb and engorged beneath your fingertips. For a second, you almost forget about the man’s presence, utterly too focused on reaching your own climax, not even paying mind to the fact that your eyes had been glued shut. The sound of slick skin, rubbing against slick skin, reverberates through your phone’s speaker. You’d like to imagine the expressions he’d make if he were here with you now. Would they be soft? Hard? Plain? Or would they be an amalgamation of each. Your imagination doesn’t get the chance to wander too far, because soon, he flips the camera towards his face, almost as if he’d heard your inner monologue. 

The light in his room is still dim, save for the bits of the sun peaking through the blinds that aid in exposing half of his face. Most of his features are subdued by the darkness—all but his eyes (and his flushed cheeks)—which seem to hold so much expression in them. Even with just half of his face on display, he still looks pretty. You attempt to see if you can make out any of the rest of his features, but to no avail. 

“Turn your camera around, wanna see your face,” it comes out more like a demand than a plea. You do as he says and flip your camera. When his eyes find your own, he sits up against his headboard, the second half of his face now uncovered. Seeing all of his features work harmoniously to make a lewd expression was enough to tip you over the edge, and it wasn’t helping that his open-mouthed pants were growing more and more provocative. 

“S-So close, ‘m gonna come!” 

“Fuck, go ahead, baby,” he weakly ruts into his fist, “Show me the face you make when you come.” 

You feel the knot in your lower abdomen begin to wind tighter and tighter, the pressure on your bladder becoming almost unbearable. Your flicking and circling never falter, that is, until you press down on the spot where your bladder resides beneath, and feel an abundance of pleasure wash over you like an unruly tide. The essence that drips from your core stands out starkly against the dark linen of your bed. 

Bakugou watches intently as you whimper and pant through the screen, your chest rising and falling like rose petals in the wind. Your tired, sultry eyes alone are more than enough to make him finish, but then you flip the camera to show your bed and now he’s really close. 

“Look at the mess, you did this.”

“God, you’re so f-fucking dirty,” he grits through bared teeth, “Show me your pretty pussy, yeah?” 

Once his vermillion eyes meet your cunt, dripping and convulsing, he reaches his peak. The boy releases a strangled moan, falling tirelessly onto his back as his cock streams liquid hot white onto the expanse of  his stomach. He uses whatever energy he has left to fist the appendage a few more times, groaning into his neck once he sees the globs of cum coating his knuckles. 

The gentle breeze sneaking in through the window aids in cooling down his hot skin. From the window he can see cherry blossoms dancing in the air; his heart slows as he witnesses a single petal stick to his window. Bakugou is brought back to reality upon hearing your voice. 

“Hope this isn’t the last time,” your face is softer in the afternoon glow, “don’t think I’ve ever come this hard.” There’s some lingering hope hidden in the obsidian of your eyes. He can’t help but to laugh, of course this wouldn’t be the last time. Not after he’d been dreaming of this for months.

“You won’t hafta hope for nothin’, princess. Next time you’ll be gettin’ the real thing.” 

The call ends promptly, and as soon as it does, you get a text. 

Bakugou: Free next Friday night at 8. Come to this address.

Bakugou: xxxxx xxxxx Apt.

Your lips upturn into a mischievous smile. He has no idea…

© arachine 2023

[manicrouge]

Christmas Comfort

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅ��ʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 09/02/24)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3.3k

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). I want all of my stories to be on the same blog so I apologise for the repost.

ANYWAY !! ENJOY !!

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I'm proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Whoopps im liking this better than i thought

Summary: Daryl and Rick go on a run, they run into a pretty girl who is quite skilled in killing walkers but she is acting a bit suspicious👀 they decide to keep an eye on her. Again this takes place in the prison era.

Warnings: nothing really? a bit of phsyical pain involved cuz its twd

I initially tried to write this with first and third person narration which failed horribly so this is my first y/n fanfic ? feel free to correct my mistakes!! i'm new

"...And she ain't afraid to get violent with men 3 times her size."

Daryl and Rick were behind a large tree as they were watching out for walkers. Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly when he saw this girl fighting off walkers on the corner of his eyes.

"The hell she think' she's doin' ?" Daryl mumbled under his breath in a rush only for Rick to turn to his body towards him.

"What?" He asked before his eyes caught Y/n taking down three walkers.

Rick scanned the area only to see two more coming at her from behind. Daryl looked at Rick for a second and followed his gaze.

"Should we help her?" Rick asked cautiously, trying to calculate Daryl's reaction.

"Nah, she can handle 'em herself. Let's go."

Rick gazed at Daryl as he was walking into the woods. He decided to take one last glare at this alone mysterious girl when his eyes widened slightly at the scene that was going on infront of his eyes. He called for Daryl in a barely audible tone.

"Check this out." He said swinging his index and middle finger lightly at the girl. Daryl leered at her. She had a camera on her and she was documenting the area. She was taking pictures of the trees, the dead walkers, the stores. Anything.

"Well, ain't none of our dam' business." Daryl said with a slight irritation in his voice.

Rick glared at him from the corner of his eyes for a brief second before taking a deep breath.

"She is alone, quiet pretty and actin' all strange." Rick said with an undertone of mistrust.

"She took five or six walkers all by herself, without a trouble." He then added with fascinated eyes.

Daryl rolled his eyes moderately "Now what? Yea takin' interest in sum girl fightin' for 'er life?"

Daryl kept leering at Y/n as she walked into the pharmacy store right after cleaning her knife with a cloth she ripped from a dress that one of the walkers was wearing.

He scowled lightly as his frustration revealed itself in his voice "Great. She goin' into the store I was plannin' to go into." He grunted. He sighed audibly and looked at Rick over his shoulder before putting his crossbow in place on his hands. Rick kept sniggering and followed him. They were looking for survivors. They needed them, Daryl didn't love the idea. He thought Rick was trusting people easily but maybe he needed to do that... He entered the pharmacy, with the intention of studying this girl more.

. . . .

Y/n kneelt infront of the biggest drug shelf, trying her hardest to find antibiotics. They were useful for anything, though none was left. Y/n sighed before going through piled up medications on the floor when she heard someone walk in. Whoever that was, they were quite, almost too quite for her to not notice. She slowly got up, scanned the area for a brief moment. Thank god, she wasn't in the entrance, otherwise she would be caught in the open; like a prey awaiting for its predator.

Y/n knew the first thing she had to do was to control her breathing so she did. She hid behind a big metal desk, her backpack was near the door, the entrance where whoever that was there could see it easily. She didn't panick. She held her breath and got close to her backbag with cautious light movements. She dragged her bag to herself.

Y/n listened to area for a few seconds before slowly pulling her knife and pistol out of their cases. This was what she was scared of, dealing with somebody she doesn't know in the middle of the apocalpyse. She knew she had to stay calm. She inspected her ammo, incase she had to use it. She checked the magazine. Y/n had her pistol on one hand meanwhile she had her commando knife sitting on her left hand gently. She had a firm stance but before she could even take a second peek, y/n felt someone's presence.

"Come out."

Y/n studied the man's voice before she got up. The grunt, the thick southern accent one could hear even in two words. Y/n could already tell she had to deal with an aggressive one. She had a moment of debating with herself whether or not she should leave her weapons on the floor. "That's stupid." she notioned inside of her head. All these thoughts pondered her head within 5 seconds when the man, once again repeated it.

"Come on out. Now."

She lifted her head up. An arrow in a crossbow looking directly at her forehead and blue stern eyes behind it. Y/n immediatly got up and stepped back, weapons in her hand with a firm stance. A hasty moment of exchanging rigid gazes.

"I'm not looking for trouble." Y/n said with a humane tone. Ironic, she believed. A girl stating that she isn't looking for trouble with two lethal weapons in her hands.

The man stayed silent without breaking the intense eye contact. Y/n felt the need of giving assurance to him to not get killed. Anything could happen these days.

She sounded as if she was begging, abundance of tender in her voice "I just need some supplies and I'll be out of here before you know it."

Y/n leered deep into the man's eye as if she could see what was going on inside of his head. Daryl looked at y/n up and down, trying to conclude if she is any danger at all. He finally stopped frowning and loosened his grip on the crossbow.

"Go ahead." he mumbled.

Y/n also loosened her grip on her weapons. She felt her hands cramping because how long she had been holding the weapons. She moved aside, her eyes still following the man. Y/n got down, confused even scared because she had no idea what could happen any second. She forgot about the pills. She was scared for her life. Nonetheless, she grabbed a few medicine from the pile on the floor and tossed them into her bag. Y/n could see the man's reflection from the broken glass infront of her. He was not taking his eyes off of her, which freaked y/n out. She took a deep breath and slowly got up. The man was leaning against one of the desks in the pharmacy, he was looking rather calm but at alert. Y/n could see that. Her eyes formed some kind of apologetic manner as she examined the man for a brief moment. She didn't know why she did that. Maybe she felt he was no longer a threat to her. Daryl was quite indifferent. He was not also taking her eyes off of Y/n. She started walking towards the door when the ammo in her backpack started making noises because they got all messy in there when she tried to get a magazine out. She hoped he wouldn't mind it and stopped for a second, turned to this man and gently said

"I'm Y/n"

Y/n didn't know if she was supposed to wait for him to respond. She felt as if she owed this man the courtesy of saying her name at least. She decided to walk out when all of a sudden her thoughts were interrupted by another grunt. "Daryl." He said. It sounded apathetic as if he only said his name because Y/n said hers. Y/n gently smiled, if you can call that a smile. She made her way to the door. She was still sweating when another one of her pistols dropped from her bag and made a big thud, leaving her all panicked. She had a few guns in her backpack and this wasn't good to a stranger's eyes. She grabbed her ALFA combat and incompetently put it into her jacket pocket that she was wearing in the heat of Georgia. She didn't even look at Daryl.

Y/n didn't wanna take long because she knew it would get fucked up and it indeed did. Her action was interrupted by Daryl's hasty voice when her hand touched the door handle.

"Hold on." He said in a wary tone.

"Wha's tha' in yer bag?" his eyes roaming through her body and backpack as he came closer.

Y/n took a deep breath before turning to him. She knew it was time to actually be a bit belligerent. There was no way this could end in any virtuousness.

"You a damn cop now?" Y/n said with vexation in her eyes.

"First you come here and spy on me now you wanna check my backpack." the annoyance and electric in her voice growing stronger with each word.

Daryl stayed tranquil. He knew Y/n was a potential survivor Rick might wanna take in but he still needed to make sure everything. He came even closer. No one could blame Y/n for feeling under threat. Her survival instinct kicked in. She already calculated the strength of Daryl, there was no way she could overpower him. That's the thought that kept notioning inside of her head throughtout the 5 minutes she had to spend with him. But, Y/n thought, if she attacked him when he least expected it, maybe that would give her enough time to run as far as she could and make him lose track of her.

So she did, she kicked Daryl in the guts, leaving him only stumble a few steps back. Daryl huffed "Fuck." at the pain of being kicked in the stomach.That was all her power and Daryl didn't even fall. She didn't have time to bore her mind with that at the moment. Y/n grabbed the the door handle and pulled it with all her power and started running as fast as she could.

Y/n was panicking more than ever now. She knew she was a survivor, that was the reason she stayed alive in this wilderness where dead people were walking aimlessly, attempting to bite into anything that had life and flesh. The bag full of ammo and couple of guns were making harsh noises as it was also slowing her down.

Y/n was panting and practically dragging her feet to run along when she heard a gun fire. She instantly stopped. Perhaps it was another survival instinct, perhaps she believed the next upcoming bullet would go through her skull if she didn't stop. Her legs were trembling and her body was sweating like never before. She should've never worn that jacket in the heat of the summer but that was for precaution. She halted. The first thing she did before turning to him with her hands in the air was to catch up on breathing as if she forgot how to do that. It was a big area before one could get lost in the woods. She took long hasty breaths and slowly turned her body towards the spot where the gun was fired.

Y/n huffed swiftly under her breath "Fuck" She did not only see Daryl but another man next to him holding a colt python. Daryl was panting aswell but he quickly fixed his posture.

Were they spying on Y/n all along? Demented possibilities were lining up in her head one after another. Two of the men kept looking at her while her arms and hands started cramping because of how long she had been holding them up in the air.

"What do you want?" Y/n shouted. Her eyes scrutinizing both men, debating inside of her head if they would go any further.

A few geeks started coming out of the woods. She knew it was mindless of the other man to fire a gun, even far away from the city. She reached at for her knife the second she heard their infuriating growls but Daryl didn't let her. He gave y/n a spine-chilling glare as he walked past her and killed the geeks on the spot. The other man looked rather nonchalant, not keeping his eyes on neither one of them; just giving soft glares now and then. Y/n couldn't even dare to look back, see what Daryl was doing. She supposed he was taking his arrows out of geeks' heads, cleaning them with a piece of cloth. That's pretty much what everyone did.

Then y/n felt Daryl's unyielding grip on her forearm and her backpack. He was forcing her to walk ahead of him. She could feel his harsh breaths behind her ears and it only made her heart drop.

"Asshole." she whispered and sort of hoped he wouldn't hear it. He most likely did but did not pay any attention to it. Y/n felt more under threat as they were getting closer to the other man. She notioned this could not end in any good. It was time to take action now or never. Her brain felt like it could explode any minute.

"Let me go." she howled, trying to push Daryl but it only made him more antagonized. He felt as if she was only trying to provoke him at this point. He responded back with pushing y/n to the wall of the pharmacy store. Her back hit the wall swiftly and harshly making her whine in pain. The backpack was still on her and all that metal stinged her back because of how hard Daryl tossed her on the wall. It was like every single one of the curved metal was being carved into her back.

"Ahh." she cried out. Before y/n could even pull herself together, she once again felt his harsh grip on the backpack. She gave in at that point, seeing no reason in fighting back.

"Easy." y/n heard the other man saying slowly to Daryl, his eyes forming a stern look. Y/n looked at him, she wanted to speak; explain herself but she didn't know if it would make a difference at all. She bucked up, her back was still hurting but it was now or never. Y/n took a deep breath between the whimpers of pain and said

"I don't fire 'em." she exchanged glances between two men. Her voice sounded as if she was in rush. Her voice growing raspier because of thirst that was caused by running and apprehensiveness. Daryl looking more irritated with every word that was coming out of her mouth.

"Then wha's for carryin' a bag full o' guns, huh?" he uttered.

Y/n knew she had to be wary, if not she had no idea what would happen to her. She made out that she could put some sense into the other man if not into the redneck.

"I'm delivering them to a friend." a lie. She couldn't even look into directly their eyes but tried her best to do so.

Rick seemed rather suspicious "All alone?" he muttered. Y/n caught his leer.

"Goin' all this trouble to deliver few guns." Rick sounded as if he was asking a question but also reflecting the situation in his head.

" 'Few' guns worth more than gold nowadays." Y/n said emphasizing the word "few" with a subtle irritation in her voice.

"I don' know man." Daryl got closer to Rick. Every one of them were still eyeing eachother up and down. Rick didn't want to let her go for two reasons, first being cautious about the prison's perimeter if she was telling the truth. He thought she wasn't being honest but there was no harm in being wary. Second being, she would be good use in the prison if she was alone and soloing her way. He knew he needed to investigate into it when y/n interrupted his track of thought

"Can I go now?" she said, not too pretentious but also not too sloppy either. She kept eyeing them, not letting her guard down and trying to not irritate them even more.

"Y'all don't look like bandits or I- I- don't know, plunderers. Why not let me go?" She was gazing at both of them as if she could see their souls.

"Tha's cuz wer not." Daryl said in an obvious exasperated, raucous tone. Y/n couldn't help but smirk a little bit at his extreme, fragile reaction.

A brief fierce eye contacted formed between y/n and Daryl when Rick made a hand gesture infront of Daryl to indicate him that Y/n was no longer a threat that she could, perhaps, leave. Her gaze shifted back to Rick. Rick had a soft manner on his face, he slowly swinged his fingers at y/n, indicating she was free to go. Y/n sighed and rolled her eyes lightly as she got down and grabbed her backpack, she had a fierce look on her eyes when she took one last leer at Daryl and slowly started to walk away.

Rick gazed at Daryl watching Y/n walk away from the corner of his eyes. Daryl could feel his eyes on him so he turned to him with a slight maddening going through his body like electroshocks. Rick still had that pleasant bearing on his face which drew Daryl more irritated

"No more interested in takin' 'er into the prison?" He grunted as he grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder as he kept staring at Rick.

"I am." Rick said in a cool manner.

"I dun' kno' man. She 's trouble and ain't afraid to get violent wit' men three times her size." Daryl said still studying y/n in his mind.

"And that's a survivor right there." Rick sniggered as a subtle smirk appeared on Daryl's face.

FOOTNOTE

Ok yall can't believe this took me 2-ish days to write😭😭 i love writing these that's why i been skipping studying lmao and this one is a lot longer than the previous one. we get more daryl content (i hope you like the way i describe/write him im trying my best but again he is such a complicated character. writing rick is a lot easier.) i hope you like it!! i can write a sequel fanfic if you want me to!!! just let me know :)

[pinkandblueblurbs]

he’ll go down first

word count: 900

daryl dixon x fem!reader. mentions of plus size!reader, cunnilingus, face riding, banter/lighthearted sex, teasing, dirty talk, implied blowjob

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, actin’ like that in front of everyone.” Daryl grouses once the door is closed, giving your ass a playful smack over your jeans. You spin around to look at him and cock your head in an exaggerated show of confusion.

“Actin’ like what?”

Daryl huffs. “Yes, sir. I need it bad,” his impression of you is high pitched and scratchy, making you giggle. “Please fuck my needy pussy.”

You mean to let out an exasperated scoff, but a laugh bubbles up in its stead. “I did not say that!”

“Might as fuckin’ well have.” He mutters. Before you can respond he closes the distance between you and catches your lips in a searing kiss. He backs you up towards the bed while his hands swiftly undo the fly of your jeans and tug them down the swell of your hips along with your panties.

You gasp when his hands shove your shoulders, sending you backwards onto the mattress. He has the garments fully off you before you can form a thought.

“Lemme at that pussy,” Daryl’s large hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh there as he decisively pulls them wide. He leans down to your bare cunt, gazing at it with the same adoration he awards to every other part of you before placing a soft kiss to each of your inner thighs. It makes your chest tighten. “Fuck, I’m gonna enjoy this.”

“Yeah? Then why you takin’ so long?” You quip with a taunting grin. He looks up to flash you a mock glare.

“Impatient brat,” he mutters before leaning down to lick a strip up your slit. You moan at the feeling of his wet tongue on you, his movements confident and well-practiced as he teases over your sensitive skin.

“Darryl,” it’s somewhere between a whine and a demand, but whatever it is he takes the hint and focuses his attention on your clit, flicking over it with the tip of his tongue. You let out a long groan and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck yes, that feels so good.”

He wraps his lips around the sensitive nub now, sucking steadily and making your vision blur. Your hips itch to move and you don’t hold back, naturally grinding up against his hot mouth, your hands keeping his head where you want it. The vibrations of Daryl’s groan only add to your gratification. You look down to watch him, finding his eyes fixed on you, half lidded as if he’s getting just as much pleasure out of this as you are.

You’re still looking at him when you see his eyes flare open slightly as an idea dawns on him. You whine when he lifts his head away, keeping your hands in his hair and chasing him with your hips, but he swats your forearms to make you loosen your grip.

“Take it easy, girl, you’re gonna like this.” He grumbles with lighthearted annoyance as he moves up the mattress. He settles on his back, head on a pillow, and a thrilled smile breaks out on your face as his intention sinks in. “Get up here.”

You let your smile fall away as you slowly crawl up the bed towards him, putting on a feigned meek look and batting your lashes. “You sure?”

Daryl huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t gimme that shit, you ain’t been shy a day in your life.”

Your act breaks as you let out a laugh and quicken your pace, swinging a leg over him until you’re positioned atop his chest, straddling his head.

He’s quick to grab your ass and pull you forward so your cunt connects with his mouth. You let out a long moan, hands grappling at the headboard as he laps at your wet entrance. Soon his tongue is thrusting inside, stroking along your inner walls and making your thighs clench around his head.

When you look down you can’t meet his eyes like before, your stomach obscuring them, and you miss that intimacy— but it’s made up for by the way his nose feels against your clit when you roll your hips, and the way his strong hands grip your thighs like he never wants you to pull away.

He keeps up his expert attention, licking and sucking just the way you like. You chase your orgasm as you grind against his face. Your moans slowly become louder, more frequent, and tension builds up inside you until finally it breaks and makes way for pure bliss.

Your hips stutter as your orgasm crashes over you, knuckles turning white as they grip the headboard. Daryl works you through it, drawing out your pleasure, not letting up until you’re whimpering at the sensitive sting of his tongue.

His hands support you as you move up and off him, the process slow and clumsy thanks to the weakness in your knees. When you look at him his face is covered in your slick and his eyes are closed while he catches his breath.

“You’ve got a little something…” his eyes crack open and you gesture over the entire lower half of his face, making him snort.

“Yer hilarious.” He deadpans. You grin at him, moving so you’re between his legs. You start to undo his pants, palming at the bulge in them.

“Guess it’s your turn, huh?”

[shiro-s2e2-erukinzu]

Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 99... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

*Ahem...*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! THIS CHAPTER!!!! 😱 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

S-Sorry about that folks, but uh... There is A WHOLE LOT to talk about with this chapter, so uh, let's into it shall we...?! 😵 [Aggressive Thumb SHAKING] ((👍))

So, to start things off... What happened at the end of chapter 98 was apparently just a false alarm, but it still managed to end the the graduation party after everyone ran to the bunkers... So, Henry asked Martha about what she was going to tell him, and well...:

...She decided not to tell him the truth... 🥲

After this, Martha is seen crying her eyes out at her home...!! 😭 But after receiving a letter in the mail, she has a wonderful idea to write letters to Henry while she's away...!! 🥹

The first thing she writes to him is to see her off before she departs, but because the letter contained her exact location, these assholes "lovely gentleman" had to black out almost EVERYTHING MARTHA WROTE!! 😫 Which meant...:

...Henry didn't show up... 🥲🥲

(Why Endo...? Just, WHY....?! 💔)

But even after that mishap, Martha would continue to write to Henry, and he even wrote back to her...! 🥹 But eventually...:

Aw man... This image is just... It breaks my heart, man... 😔

Soon after that, Henry started to yearn to hear from Martha once again... But then, Martha and the rest of her group got some unexpected news...:

AND THE WORST PART IS THAT THEY CAN'T ACTUALLY DECLINE TO JOIN THE FRONT LINES BECAUSE THEY WOULD BE LABELED AS DESERTERS AND KILLED!!! 😡 (SUCH FUCKING BULLSHIT!!! FUCK WAR!!! 😠😠😠)

While the girls are panicking, Martha steps up and says that she'll fight...:

...And now Herny knows about it... 😞

Y'know... This chapter already had some crazy stuff in it... But nothing, AND I MEAN NOTHING, could've prepared me for THE VERY NEXT PAGE...!!!:

MOTHERFUCKING YOUNG DONOVAN DESMOND!!! 😵😵😵

AND BOY, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHIN'...! When I read what he said at bottom, that "Human beings are simply liars"... The first thing that came to my mind was...:

...HE HAS TO BE A FREAKING TELEPATH JUST LIKE ANYA!!! 😱

I MEAN, it's the only thing that makes sense, why else WOULD HE SAY THAT...!?!? 😵 He also could've been raised that way by his parents, BUT I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THAT ONE CHIEF!!!!

My goodness... THIS PAGE HAS GOT ME LOOKIN' AND ACTIN' LIKE THIS:

Anyway, Young Donovan continues to speak about how as long as everyone hides their true intentions from each other, war can never truly end... And I just... I can't accept that...!!

Call me a dreamer, but I believe that we as people can make a difference if we speak up & fight back against ideals like Donovan's...!! I know that there is awfulness all around us and not everyone is in it for the betterment of others... BUT THAT'S WHY WE HAVE TO FIGHT BACK; THAT'S WHY TWILIGHT, YOR, ANYA, AND OTHERS IN THIS SERIES ARE FIGHTING FOR PEACE!!! So that we all can have a better tomorrow...!!! ✊

Anyway, back to chapter... And boy, it does not get better for Henry and Martha... 😔

After Martha writes a letter a telling Henry that she wishes that she could see him, it brings him tears and the only thing that he could muster to think of saying to her is "I wish I could see you too"... 💔 Then when going to mail another letter to Martha, Henry over hears on the radio...:

THIS PAGE IS JUST SO HEARTBREAKING!!! 💔

Later at an assembly, Martha's group was brought up as valiant for giving their lives for the cause, but Henry was having none of it:

...and then, they beat him up an locked him away...!! 😠 Then Henry's dad shows up and tells him that if he keeps this up, he'll never teach in another classroom again... And of course, Henry folds... 💔 AND I THINK THAT HENRY'S DAD NEEDS TO GET PUNCHED IN THE FACE!!! 😡

Time passes, Henry has a his famous monoclonal now (most likely due to be badly injured in his eye when those bastards beat him up) and is forced to marry someone for his family... Then, it cuts to place near the East-West border and...:

Martha's still alive, obviously, but WHO TOOK HER IN AND SAVED HER!?!? 🤔

Could it be someone from the Blackbell's, someone related to Twilight, Shopkeeper or McMahon...? I DON'T KNOW...!! But, we'll have wait and find out in CHAPTER 100 BABY!!! 😆

And that was Mission 99, and it was FANTASTIC AND HEARTBREAKING ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!! 💔🥲💔 This why we LET 👏 ENDO 👏 COOK!!! 👏👏👏

But anyway, before I go....

SEASON 3 OF SPY × FAMILY WAS ANNOUNCED BABY!!! 😆

I am SOOOOOO EXCITED for this!! 😄 But when it releases, I'm not sure if I'll continue to do reviews of the episodes as they come out... Near the end of season 2, I got quite a bit burnt out from writing my anime reviews, so I never talked about the last 3 episodes of season 2... 😩 But, we'll see how I feel by the time when the anime returns...!! 😁

Okay, that's it now...!! 😄 So until the next Mission; take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! BYE!!! 👋😁

[rainylana]

“Bad day.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: another bully fic because i’m lowkey obsessed.

warnings: bully eddie, crying, language, requested by @somethingvicked

He pulled her hair, pinched her arm and kicked at her feet, threw her papers in the air and put super glue on her locker combination. He did everything to get her to play back. They played a game, a mean one, one that he looked forward to everyday. It was his only motivation to get up and go to school, really, all because he could pick on you.

He was in denial with his feelings for you. Everyone but him knew that he was smitten with you, but he was simply too cruel with you for you to realize his intentions.

It must had been a bad day, he realized, because you just weren’t playing back and it was pissing him off.

“Yo, Gar’,” Eddie snapped his fingers in his friends face, getting his attention. “You notice anything with L/n? She’s been acting weird today.”

Gareth chuckled, giving dustin a look before he tried to be serious with Eddie. “Who? Your girlfriend? I don’t know, Ed, you tell me.”

He rolled his eyes and payed no mind to him, used to him and everyone else’s jokes they made about the two of you.

“She’s actin’ weird.” He munched on a pretzel, shaking his head.

Eddie had been picking on you since the eighth grade when you’d moved there from California. His friends had asked many times if he’d simply developed a crush on you, to which he always gagged and said you were the ugly duckling of hawkins high.

He saw you across the cafeteria in your own world, sitting amongst your friends and picking at your food.

“Look at her!” He snapped, making everyone jump. “Look at the pathetic way she’s picking at her food! It’s disgusting!”

“Oh, my god,” Mike groaned. “Eddie, maybe she doesn’t want to mess around with you today, ever think about that?”

“Oh come on, don’t be ridiculous,” He scoffed. “She loves the attention. That’s the type of girl she is.”

He shook his head in disbelief and stared at you, crossing his arms in anger. Truth was, deep deep down, he was worried about you. Worried that something had happened. He knew Jason Carver was hitting on you, maybe he’d bothered you today? The idea made his blood boil. You’d had the nerve to ask him why he hated Jason so much, just because he liked to flirt with you. He’d pulled your pigtail so hard you nearly cried.

He decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Oh, boy, there he goes.” Dustin widened his eyes as Eddie stood up and marched over to the your side of the cafeteria,

He plopped down beside you, gaining weird looks from your friends. “Afternoon, ladies,” He winked at them.

You looked up in surprise. “Eddie?” You said in confusion. “What do you want?”

He smirked, lifting his leg to place in your lap. “What did you bring me today? Anything good?” He gestured to your lunchbox.

Your lips twitched down. “Eddie, not today, please.”

He yanked your lunchbox over to him, rivaling through it as he picked out a bag of chips. “I don’t like these kind, but it’ll do, I guess.”

“Good.” You huffed, shoving his leg off you. “Now, please, leave me alone.”

He couldn’t stand you. He thought you were annoying and agitating. Everytime you talked his skin crawled and his ears rang. He thought you were beautiful.

“Hey,” He pulled your ear, making you whine. “What’s up with the fuckin’ attitude today, huh?” He snapped, not caring that he was giving a show to your friends. “You’re acting like a real brat, you know?”

“Eddie, just leave me alone!” You pleaded, finally looking over to him with big eyes, watering eyes.

“No,” He banged his fist. “Tell me why-”

“Fuck you!” You snapped, slamming your lunchbox into his chest as you got up from your seat, the cafeteria dead as everyone watched you leave the room, slamming the door on the way out, leaving a loud echo in your trail.

Eddie groaned loudly in frustration, following you out the door.

“Hey!” He called after you down the hall. “Don’t walk away from me!”

“Fuck you, Eddie!” You turned, eyes bright with tears that made him stop in his tracks. “Stop fucking following me!”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He said sternly, heavy boots taking long strides to you. “You watch your damn tone, you hear?”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” You said incredulously.

“I’m not.” He denied in disgust, squinting his eyes. “I think you’re disgusting. I don’t know why I even give you the time of day.”

“Then why do you!” You nearly screamed, tears spilling down your face now. “Why do you torment me every day! I’m sick of it!”

No, you weren’t. You were obsessed with Eddie just as much as he was with you, but you were at your wits end with school and your home life, it all came crashing down. Eddie was just at the receiving end.

“Because you’re a spoiled little brat that needs put in her place.” He spat.

You both panted and huffed, tears falling down your face as you sniffled. Eddie watched you for almost two minutes until he finally sighed.

“Why are you so upset?” He gave in.

You hiccuped, looking up into his eyes. “Bad day.”

He nodded, licking his lips. “Well, don’t take it out on me. I’ll give you your space.”

With that, he turned on his heal and left, leaving you a crying mess.

[daisyswift3]

🧩🍂🍁

Ok I could be completely wrong and seeing patterns that aren’t there (it wouldn’t be the first time) but I think Ed Sheeran and Sabrina Carpenter might come out tomorrow. I think they’re the next dominoes to cascade or FALL after Shawn Mendes. Let me explain

The 10th and 11th 🎃 messages -> Oct (10) and Nov (11) -> “the turn of the decade beFALLs the facade” -> “it was the end of a decade (the end of Oct or 10th month) but the start of an age” -> Change -> revolution/The Hunger Games ⚡️🏹😈🎯🔥 -> HALLOWEEN COSTUMES in the 11th 🎃 message -> Ed's gay little monkey meme costume and Elton John esque pfp (Goodbye Yellow Brick Road) and Sabrina's Tinkerbell costume 🧚 (Tinkerbell connects to the Peter Pan metaphor, growing up = coming out of the closet 🚪) (Sabrina is the one on the rollercoaster 🎢) -> Enchanted Forest and fairy wings 🧚 in 10th 🎃 message (OUT Of The Woods, “screaming color 🌈,” “somber woodland fairies”) -> “I hope your Halloween is enchanted” in 14th 🎃 message -> passing the torch/relay race/Paris Olympics/Nothing New, “she’ll know the way and then she’ll say she got the map from me” // “my bare hands paved their paths,” (x) -> Death with Dignity in Gracie’s playlists // Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars // funerals 🖤 // my tears ricochet eras tour performance and visuals // Billie’s Hit Me Hard and Soft album cover which is her free falling out of a closet door and drowning in the deep end (the deep end in Gracie’s Risk and Under/Over, Lizzy’s Pushing It Down and Praying, “softer, harder, in between”, Gregory’s Mistakes, Guilty as Sin?, “you’ve made your bed now lie in it”) -> Castles Crumbling (PLURAL bc multiple artists’ castles are crumbling in this mass coming out, there’s an intentional ‘s typo which connects it to the “i’s” in the 14th 🎃 message and to all the other intentional glitches/errors) -> Lizzy’s All Falls Down -> Jump Then Fall -> Birds of a Feather/The Albatross -> 2nd 🎃 message -> Gregory’s The Fall and Before the Sun (55 mile signs and Gaga’s Smile being changed to sMILE on Spotify) (x) -> All Too Well (Sad Girl Autumn Version) bc autumn is FALL 🍂🍁 -> “autumn leaves FALLING DOWN like PIECES INTO PLACE” 🧩 -> “and all the pieces fall right into place” -> “and just like clockwork the dominoes cascaded in a line” -> Gracie’s Cool, “I'm actin' bored, it's my right, after all the love that you bombed” -> “tick tick tick of love bombs” -> tick tick tick BOOM 🧨🌋🕰️ (TNT, the reticent volcano) -> going back to the Halloween costumes, Taylor was dressed as a squirrel and there was Project Acorn bc the mass coming out movement (The Story of Us/The Manuscript/the film) is “nuts” lol (x) -> Ed Sheeran’s insta having an acorn and 🍂 for his Autumn Variations album -> Run ft Ed Sheeran (the relay race metaphor) -> Red being a FALL 🍂🍁 album

I think this all ties into the election too hence all the red, white, and blue and 4th of July easter eggs lately 🇺🇸 (Gregory’s Before the Sun mentions the 4th of July). And I think that’s why Karlie (Miss Americana, KARma) wore the Kill Bill costume 👀 -> Better Than Revenge Spotify canvas and TSMWEL eras tour visuals -> shattering glass ceilings -> “The Mountain: ‘You can say I like girls or boys; So call it what you want, call it what you want’” in the anon message -> Coldplay’s iAAM (i Am A Mountain): “I got this feeling that the ceiling is for bursting through…I got this feeling I can summon up lightning…Everyone taking aim, Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain” -> “Dear reader when you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss” ⚡️🏹😈🎯🔥 -> The Archer/Katniss

[angelicglib]

‧₊✩ Christmas Comfort ✩₊‧

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 28/12/23)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

[merakiui]

the trapped in a room trope soft or rough noncon with bully tweels

Omg how unlucky... >_< the last people you want to be stuck in a locked room with are your bullies. For the first hour or so, Floyd's pushing you around, grumbling about how lame this is and demanding you find a way out, or else he'll squeeze you dead. He's so impatient. Jade doesn't seem to mind. He stands by, watching you attempt to stand up for yourself when Floyd's bullying you and relishing in the amusement. Every now and then, he'll join in, all sharp smiles, and kindly suggest you keep trying to escape. "You wouldn't want to upset Floyd now, would you?" :) all with that insufferably polite smile of his!!!!

You thought it couldn't possibly get worst, but then there's writing on the wall saying that the only way to get out of the room is to have sex. Suddenly, the air changes. Suddenly, Floyd and Jade are looking at you more intently. Suddenly, it's no longer "Shrimpy does all the work to get us out." Now it's a team effort...or at least it is for the tweels. You laugh at the wall at first; it's such a crazy thing. There's no way they believe it, right? Surely there's another way to get out. But the twins are looming over you, all creepy smiles and giggles.

"Well, isn't this a fun development?"

"Yeeaah, seems like it, huh? So all we gotta do is fuck and we can leave? Cool. Shrimpy, c'mere for a sec."

T_T you cower in a corner, shaking your head at both of them. Suddenly they seem nicer, sweeter almost? And they talk to you softly, a stark contrast to their insincere behaviors from before.

"There's really nothing to fear, (Name). We want to escape as much as you do. It will only be a few minutes. You're in good hands," Jade promises, a hand held over his heart.

"Yeah! We'll treat ya good, so stop actin' like a lil bitch and lemme hold ya." Floyd's a little less softer than his brother, but his eyes are kind. At least they are for a second before he's glaring at you.

You're so difficult sometimes. Oh, but the fear on your face is a good look...

"Floyd, you're scaring the poor thing half to death." Jade chuckles, hiding a wicked smile behind his fist.

Floyd huffs and straightens his back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Not my fault Shrimpy's bein' annoyin'."

One way or another, you're going to end up stuffed full. Floyd gets tired of this back and forth and even Jade's secretly sick of assuring you. Floyd grabs you by the arm and drags you from out of your corner, ignoring the way you struggle and kick and cry. Conveniently, there's a bed in this room and you're shoved onto it, face-first and ass up. Floyd's hand is wrapped snugly around your neck, forcing you into the mattress. You try to squirm, but he tightens his grip and flashes his teeth at you in warning. You know what it means: stop fucking moving or I'll snap your neck.

You have to promise you won't fight back or try to run away (not that you can go anywhere) so that Floyd finally releases you. Jade takes his sweet time undressing you, running his hands over your bare skin and saying the kindest things. "See? There's no need to be so evasive. Why hide yourself from us? You're very beautiful." It's a nice balance between Floyd's cruel teasing. He slaps your ass just to see you flinch and listen to your startled yelps. Honestly, you know better than to look fearful in front of two deep-sea predators. Don't you know fear is so tantalizing to creatures from the Coral Sea? Don't you know it only makes you look even more enticing?

Omg and they spend a long time working you open and toying with your body, bullying you for being such a virgin. Look how much you came from their fingers alone. You're the cutest, most pathetic thing ever, trembling through your orgasms and crying at them. You say you hate them, but then you wouldn't be tightening this much around their fingers or arching your back when they kiss and nip at your neck. It's Floyd's idea to mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to, so that you'll look completely used when you come staggering out of the room after it's unlocked. And Jade would never disagree to such a good idea. >:) aaaa they're really so mean. You can't even try to enjoy it because the minute you do they're poking fun at you.

It's even worse when they're undressed and you're faced with two very big, very thick dicks and woooooo how are you ever going to fit both of them?! It's impossible! You can't! But Floyd grabs you by the hair and pushes your face into his dick, forcing you to take him in your mouth. You're shaking so much. :( you're so scared and his grip is unrelenting. At least Jade's kind enough to pet your head and guide your hand to his dick, patiently assisting you until you find your pace. And you're crying the entire time; your technique is sloppy and inexperienced because you've never given head before and Floyd teases you for it. "Shrimpy's so bad at this!" And Jade agrees like: "Unfortunately, your technique is rather...lacking." They're terrible, and you spend too much time stalling around Floyd's tip that he grabs you by the face and thrusts all the way down your throat. You choke and gag, more tears springing to your eyes, and Floyd wheezes with laughter. Even Jade's amused by the struggle, quietly chuckling on the sidelines.

It doesn't improve when they talk amongst themselves, debating which hole they should get or if they should just try to fit both in at once. Obviously, you flinch at the mention of the latter and the twins pick up on your fear right away, as if it's the potent scent of blood in water. You beg them not to, but Jade's tied your wrists together behind your back and so you can't shove him off even if you tried.

"Course it'll fit," Floyd assures you, ruffling your hair and grinning down at you. He forces your legs apart and jams two fingers in your slick hole. You jolt at the intrusion. "Or maybe not. Shrimpy's super tight."

"Oh? Even after all that thorough preparation?" Jade tilts his head at you.

There's no swaying the twins after they've made up their minds. You have no choice but to brace yourself when they sandwich you, lining themselves up. You keep begging and begging, but it won't do anything. To add even more salt to your wounds, Floyd licks your tears away and Jade swipes them with his thumb.

"Come on, don't be so scared. It'll be fun, Shrimpy!" He pinches your cheeks and pulls your lips up into a forced smile.

"We'll be gentle." It's an empty promise from Jade. Everything he's said since you were trapped has been an empty promise.

They're so big, and the stretch hurts. No amount of lube or slick could prepare you for it. You sob into Jade's shoulder while Floyd bites your neck from behind. It hurts. You want them to stop, but they're not even halfway in yet. They can't stop now! And at some point, pain falls away and is replaced with pleasure. Maybe it's because Floyd's hands are roaming and Jade's kisses are sugary sweet. Maybe it's because you feel so full and there's something so erotically pleasing about that. Or maybe it's because they're paying so much attention to you and it's a different sort of attention than the usual bullying you receive from them.

By the end of it, you're begging for more. Jade and Floyd hope they didn't break you so soon. But even if they did, that's okay. You're still fun even if logical thoughts have been fucked out of your brain. <3

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 7

“the losin’ touch, the waiting game”

A/N: so originally this was not going to be a super long chapter, but I felt like a lot needed to be said and boy, was I right. This is another angsty one, but I promise there will be more development of Joel & Beanie’s relationship coming in the next chapters!

Summary: Joel faces punishment for his violent actions towards Lucas. Tensions rise when Joel makes some accusations that test Tommy’s loyalty towards his brother.

~word count: 8.3k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Warnings: angst, family arguments, bigotry, picking favorites, punishment, tension, trauma responses, alluding to depression, explosive anger, resentment, violence against an animal (not depicted but there’s enough detail for assumptions to be made) mentions of a bullet wound, deprecating negative thoughts, mild gaslighting, unknown motives, mixed emotions, making up, starting over, soft Joel!, protective! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions (skin color/body type) readers nickname is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors dni!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

“Joel, do you know why the community that Tommy and I have built here has been able to thrive for so long?” Maria inquired her brother-in-law who was presently sitting across from her and Tommy. In short, Joel was brought in for questioning after Lucas showed up to Doc's home a few nights back with his broken wrist and a layer of skin missing from the side of his face where Joel had it shoved against the stone wall.

Word had traveled fast through the community, and Tommy clearly didn’t have his brother’s back.

Joel was irritated to say the least. He was hurt by his brother, hurt by Ellie, and by you. He knew you didn’t have the intentions to hurt him, and he couldn’t hold it against you, but man, did it sting.

“Because you don’t condone violence amongst community members.” He gruffly responded under his breath as he crossed his arms over his chest. His jaw was clenched under the sunlight peeking through the windows as he grinded his teeth together.

“Exactly, so what do you think happens when someone in our community acts out violently?” Maria mirrored his actions as she leaned against the bar countertop with a deadly serious look on her unamused face.

“For fuck sakes, Maria. You ain’t have to lecture me like I’m a goddamn kid. Jus’ fuckin’ reprimand me for my actions and get on with it.” He snapped.

“Don’t talk to my wife like that, Joel. Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Tommy chimed in as he stood up from his chair but Maria held her hand out in a stopping motion, giving her husband a warning look.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You’re actin’ like I killed the guy! I broke his wrist and roughed him up a bit. You both realize I could have made it so much worse, right? What the fuck else was I supposed to do? You saw the emotional state Beanie was in after Lucas grabbed her! Y’wanna reprimand me for doin’ what I feel was the right thing? Be my guest, but I won’t sit around here another fuckin’ minute while you lecture me for it.” Joel threw his hands up in the air frustratingly. He didn’t like to be put on the spot, especially by his own family.

“You’re off patrol for two weeks. You are not authorized to leave your house under any circumstances. Tommy will bring you your meals. If you demonstrate good behavior, then I’ll allow you to return to patrol before the two weeks are up.” Maria spoke calmly.

“You’re forcin’ me into fuckin’ isolation? Wonderful. Ain’t like I don’t already know what that feels like on a personal level.” He grumbled under his breath as he stood up from his chair in a haste. He had nothing left to say to either his brother or sister-in-law, and even if he did, it would have fallen sharp on his tongue from the anger that was simmering in the pit of his stomach like a kettle on the stove just waiting to boil over.

He didn’t even pay attention to the sound of the bar stool scraping behind him as he shoved open the bar door on its hinges before storming out. Tommy was right behind him, calling his brother’s name as his palm came to rest along Joel’s shoulder.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Joel?!” Tommy hissed under his breath as the older Miller brother whirled around to face him with a stern look.

“You didn’t even bother to fuckin’ defend me, Tommy! What the hell happened to havin’ each other's backs?! You knew exactly what I was gonna do! Don’t stand there lookin’ at me like that as if you wouldn’t have gone and done the same if it was Maria havin’ a fuckin’ panic attack on that goddamn bathroom floor!” Joel snapped as he yanked his shoulder from his grip.

“Defend you?! What in god’s green earth would I defend you for?! You assaulted Lucas! Every goddamn person saw you drag him into the alley, Joel! This has nothing to do with Beanie, and everythin’ to do with you tryin’ to be the bigger man! For fuckin’ what? To burn some steam off?! Lucas grabbed her arm! He didn’t grab her in a malicious way, Joel!”

“Oh, so that just fuckin’ makes it okay?! You’ll defend him but not your own goddamn flesh and blood? So be it.” Joel spat as he jabbed one of his fingers directly in the middle of Tommy’s chest. “Y’know what I fuckin’ think? I think you’re a goddamn pussy, Tommy. I don’t regret what I did, and I’d fuckin’ do it again in a heartbeat. So don’t even bother bringin’ me my meals. I don’t want to fuckin’ see your face.” His voice cracked as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. Tommy could see his finger trembling as his brother struggled to keep his composure.

“I never fuckin’ said that it makes it okay, Joel! Did those words leave my goddamn mouth? No. If you would just let me fuckin’ finish? Lucas shouldn’t have grabbed her. He had no right to touch her, but Jesus Christ, did you really have to go and break his fuckin’ wrist for it?” Tommy sounded exhausted and on the verge of defeat.

“If I didn’t go out there and teach him a lesson, then no one would. If that kind of behavior goes unpunished, what kinda message do you think that sends to the community?” He was awaiting Tommy’s answer but when he didn’t receive one, he scoffed under his breath and turned on his heel to head home.

Tommy did agree with him. That kind of behavior couldn’t go left unpunished, but he couldn’t argue with his wife and her judgment on the situation. He was between a rock and a hard place when it came down to taking his brother’s side, or his wife’s. Joel’s behavior had to be addressed, but what of Lucas’s and Seth’s? Was he really about to let bigotry fester like an open untreated wound in his community?

“Joel..” Tommy uttered in an unsure tone.

“What?” Joel muttered back in a bitter gnawing tone.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy wanted to say more. He should have said more, but he couldn’t find the words.

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t sorry for shit, Tommy. Couldn’t even defend your own goddamn brother back there? Fuck you. I’m done here.” Joel snapped before he walked off, leaving Tommy in the dust.

Tommy was going to have to swallow his ego one way or another, he was going to have to swallow it and not throw it right back up. So that’s exactly what he did, he swallowed down his pride with one hefty gulp before he walked back into the Tipsy Bison where Maria was still standing in the same position she was in previously before Joel had stormed out.

“Maria, we oughta think about this whole situation through a lil’ more rationally. I ain’t sayin’ we shouldn’t reprimand Joel, but takin’ him off of patrol for two weeks ain’t the way to go about it.”

Maria raised an eyebrow in her husband’s direction with a tight shake of her head. “So, Joel throws a hissy fit and you then decide to take his side? Tommy, he assaulted Lucas. He broke his wrist. He’s lucky we aren’t fucking throwing him out of town. I could have easily exiled him, but felt that was too harsh of a punishment to instill on my brother-in-law.”

“Maria, I hear you, but what about Lucas’s actions? Seth’s? If we’re gonna punish my brother, we should punish them as well. You and I both know I’d never let you throw my brother out. Don’t even bring somethin’ like that up.” He warned her with a disappointed tilt of his head.

“How do you propose that we reprimand them? It would be unfair if their punishment was as severe as Joel’s. Neither of them acted out in a violent manner, Tommy.” Maria attempted to reason with him.

“Maria, with all due respect, Seth called Ellie and Dina a homophobic swear. He harassed them in fuckin’ public. You and I did not witness the way that he grabbed Beanie. No one did because they were in the corner outside of the bathrooms. He claims all he did was grab her arm, but how are we to know for certain?”

Maria let out a sigh as she dropped her arms at her side. She did not enjoy disagreeing with her husband, but it came with being a leader. If Joel goes unpunished for his actions, what kind of message does that send to the community? On the same token, Seth and Lucas’s behavior was unacceptable as well. “Okay, let's meet in the middle on this issue then. Joel is off patrol for 1 week and he’s on house arrest during the evening. Lucas and Seth will be on septic tank duty for that week.”

“I don’t think it's wise for us to take Joel off patrol at all. Maria, he’s one of the most able bodied men that we have. Takin’ him off patrol could put the town at risk. I’m jus’ sayin’ that I personally don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“We have more than enough able bodied men on patrol, Tommy. One week without Joel isn’t going to be detrimental.”

Tommy let out a sigh as he shoulders slumped forward knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to convince her. Maria was pretty damn hard headed when she needed to be. “Alright. I ain’t gonna argue any further. I’ll let Joel know, but after he’s cooled off a bit. He was practically steamin’ out there.”

It was Ellie’s suggestion that her and Dina go and check in on you. It had been days since you left your home since the incident at the Tipsy Bison. You were practically rotting away on the couch in the same spot that Joel left you. Still dressed in the same clothes, with the cup of tea he made you left untouched on the coffee table. You watched the sun rise, and fall each day. You heard the birds chirping outside the window, and the buzzards singing their song, but you did not move. It was as if you were dead from the inside out. Your skin felt filthy after being unwashed, and you could faintly taste copper along your tongue where you had chewn the fleshy bit of your cheek to ruin. Your cuticles were torn with crusted blood along the edges. You welcomed the pain with open arms. You couldn’t even recall tearing your nail beds to shreds.

When you heard the faint knocking at your front door your head just barely turned to acknowledge the sound. You could hear two familiar voices just outside the open window where the cream colored curtains billowed softly in the breeze.

“Hey, Beanie?” Ellie called. “You in here? It’s jus’ Dina and I. Can we come in?”

No answer.

“Well, it’s rude if we just barge in there, El.” Dina whispered.

“It’s been days since anyone has seen her, Dina. We gotta make sure she’s alright.” Ellie whispered back.

You blinked slowly at the clicking sound of the front door being opened.

“Beanie?” Both girls softly whispered amongst each other as they stepped inside.

“In here.” You croaked. Your throat felt raw and rubbed dry like scratchy sandpaper. Was it not just days ago where you had moments of wanting to kiss Joel? Now look at where you lay.

“Oh, Beanie..” Dina trailed off as her and Ellie discovered your curled up frame on the couch.

You diverted making eye contact as the two teenagers approached. Kindness felt so foreign to your skin.

“Have you been laying here all this time?” Ellie asked as she lowered herself along the edge of the coffee table.

You meekly nodded in response.

Your sullen eyes slowly flitted up when you saw the look that Dina and Ellie gave one another. It was the look of concern, not pity.

“Can we help you up?” Dina softly asked as her hand reached out to gently touch your arm.

“No.” You whispered as you turned your face into the pillow.

“We gotta getcha out of the clothes and into a bath or somethin.’ Can’t just let you rot away like this, Beanie.” Ellie was so much like Joel that you would have believed that she really was his own blood.

“Please don’t touch me.” Was all you could muster out as Dina slowly retracted her hand.

Dina and Ellie opted to sit with you instead until Ellie grew curious when she noticed your record collection on the nearby bookshelf. “Y’mind if I take a look at these?”

“Knock your socks off, kid.” Well, at least your humor hadn’t shriveled up and died in some hole too.

Ellie didn’t need to be told twice as she pushed herself up from the coffee table and padded over to the bookshelf. She was extremely careful as she flipped through the records. “Woah, Stevie Nicks? What I wouldn’t have given to see her live.” Ellie murmured softly.

“She was incredible. Saw her for the first time in ‘87. I was just a teenager then. Stevie always had somethin’ special. Grew up listening to her along with Zeppelin, Queen, Depeche Mode, just to name a few.” You mumbled as you slowly sat up from the previous fetal position you had been in.

“Holy fuckin’ shit. You saw Stevie live?!” Ellie lit up like a goddamn firefly as she set the record down gently.

“Kid, I've seen them all live. The 80’s and 90’s were a time to be alive. My friends and I went to as many live concerts as we could. Traveled around the country at one point in an RV. Totally tried the whole groupie thing for The Rolling Stones. I may or may not have kissed Mick Jagger at one point. He was definitely way too old for me, but as a teenager I could have given two shits.”

“Oh my god, you kissed Mick Jagger? Beanie, you swear you ain’t makin’ this all up?” Ellie and Dina were both immediately drawn into your past as you recalled memories being a teenager back in the day.

“I swear on my parents grave, I am not making this up. Back then concerts weren’t all that expensive, and my parents were pretty big hippies so I had a laid back childhood and upbringing. They were always playing music in the house and took me to my first concert when I was 10, and from there the rest was history.”

“Do you have any pictures? I love Depeche Mode. I listen to them on my walkman frequently.” Ellie stated excitedly.

“I’ve got what’s left of the pictures I salvaged after outbreak day. They’re upstairs. I’ll go and get them for you girls.” Suddenly the world didn’t feel like it was weighing down on you like a bag of bricks. Your lungs breathed in a hefty gulp of fresh air, and it no longer felt like you were drowning in an endless sea. It had been years since you brought up your past, but to see both Dina and Ellie show genuine enthusiasm and curiosity? It sent a warmth simmering up your spine.

It didn’t take very long for you to find the box of pictures inside one of your dresser drawers. They were a fair bit dusty and faded, but they instantly brought back wonderful memories that you clutched so tightly to your heart. You shared the same giddy excitement as the two teenagers on your couch as you brought the pictures downstairs.

You sat comfortably between Ellie and Dina as you went through each picture in vivid detail. You were Texas born and raised, and you were damn proud of it. Your parents were the definition of peace, love and happiness. They raised you with goodness in your heart and harmony in your soul. You learned to share your space with simple living things. You always had a soft spot for animals with the dream of becoming a veterinarian from the day you could walk. Turns out, you couldn’t stomach blood very well so Vet school was out of the question. This didn’t deter you from saving every injured creature that would cross paths with you.

The yearning to own an establishment came later in life. At first you thought about opening an art store, apothecary, nursery, or even a bookstore. Coffee was one of your favorite pleasures, and that’s how cuppa smiles came to be. That was the beauty of life at its core. You could wake up one day and decide that you didn’t want to be the person you were presently. You could change your looks, your wardrobe, your aspirations and hope that you got it right this time around.

“Hey, Beanie? Would it be alright if I kept this picture of you?” Ellie asked. The picture was of an 18 year old you. It was graduation night and you were in the back of some guy's pickup truck with a bottle of cheap champagne in your grasp. Your smile was bright and full of life. Eyes wild, filled with mischievous as you grinned at the camera. You were the epitome of beauty. A woman who had made it, and had her whole life ahead of her.

“Sure, you can keep it. I haven’t looked at these photos in years, so it’s nice to see them getting some attention. Is there a specific reason why you wanna keep that one?” You asked with genuine curiosity.

Ellie turned, looking at you with a knowing smile as she held the photograph gently between her fingers. “You just look beautiful and happy.” She murmured with a shrug. Little did you know..Ellie had all the intentions to pin the photograph up on the fridge at Joel’s right where he could see it every morning, and every night.

“It was graduation night. I was absolutely drunk out of my goddamn mind in that photo. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall out of the damn bed of the truck. That dress I was wearing was a real killer too. It was my favorite.” You looked over at her with a small smile tugging on your lips.

For the rest of the afternoon you told the teenager’s more stories, played a few albums on your turntable. Suddenly, taking a shower didn’t seem so terrible anymore. Ellie and Dina gave you your privacy as you bathed, but they stuck around to keep you company through the approaching evening hours.

For a moment that voice inside of your head was muffled, gagged by kindness and unable to lash through it with its sharpened claws. One night of peace seemed a hell of a lot better than none.

Whenever Joel was feeling particularly stressed, he would turn to the domestic comfort and safety of his woodworking shop that was tucked away in his shed behind his home. He did have a little workspace upstairs in his room. His shed was like his own personal safe haven. He could escape there for hours while his hands crafted something beautiful. The same hands that could break a man’s neck in one swift movement could also be held steady while he carved intricate details. Antlers for a moose, swift hooves for a mustang, delicate ears of a doe. Hands that could bruise, and hands that could heal. Hands that clutched a knife and held a life between his weathered fingertips. Hands that grasped a gun like it was an extension of his body. Hands that would tremble, hands that were bruised, torn, broken. Hands that could hold your face so tenderly, so softly as the rough texture of his thumbs brush your tears away.

The rain was softly pattering along the roof shingles as he was working on his newest piece. It was two horses nuzzling in an affectionate way. It was Tex and Tess. He was working on the wispy strands of your mare’s mane when he heard footsteps slowly approaching the small space between the open door. His undamaged ear zoned in on the exact movement as he deciphered who it was. It wasn’t Ellie. It wasn’t you..so that narrowed down his choices immediately. Based off the distinct sound of hesitation, Joel knew it was Tommy and his demeanor already shifted as he tossed his chisel into the nearby toolbox before crossing his arms over his chest with a gruff sigh.

“I come in peace.” Tommy reassured his brother as he gently pushed open the shed door with his shoulder.

“Y’sure about that Tommy? You ain’t come here to rub salt into the wound?” Joel muttered under his breath, nostrils flaring slightly. He was still pretty fucking pissed off at his brother if it wasn’t obvious enough by his body language alone.

“No, i’m here cus’ I was able to get through to Maria on decreasin’ your punishment.”

“Wow.” He huffed, “It’s a fucking miracle.” He deadpanned with a tight shake of his head. “Y’tell her it’s a fuckin’ stupid idea to take me off patrol?”

“Well, I was able to convince her to decrease your punishment to one week off patrol instead of two. I tried to tell ‘er that it’s a risky decision to take you off patrol, but she wouldn’t listen.” Tommy responded as he sank down into the chair nearest to the door.

Joel scoffed as he jaw clenched tightly. “Listen, I respect your wife, Tommy. I’m all for women’ bein’ in leadership roles, and she’s done a damn good job keepin’ this town safe, but she’s got some poor fuckin’ judgment right now. I give it one day before someone gets their head blown off out there.”

“Joel, what the fuck else was I supposed to do, huh? You’re fuckin’ lucky she didn’t decide to throw your ass out.” Tommy bit back.

“She’d be a goddamn fool if she threw me out. She jus’ wanted to make an empty threat so you’d be an obedient husband. She never wants to admit when she’s fuckin’ wrong. Whatever, I'll eat my goddamn punishment with a smile on my face.”

Tommy rang his fingers through his hair with a sigh as he sank back into the chair. “Yeah, well I personally think Lucas and Seth are bein’ let off easy for their actions. They’re gettin’ a week on septic tank duty.”

Joel turned in his chair fully as it scraped across the ground. He let out a full on belly laugh as he shook his head. “Fuckin’ septic tank duty?!” He hissed. “Y’gotta be fuckin’ jokin.’”

“I ain’t.”

“Lucas has a broken fuckin’ wrist! How the hell is he gonna do shit? Not to mention he’ll jus’ find a way to get out of it. Seth is jus’ an old racist n’homophobic fart. He’d rather drop dead before he takes a punishment.” Joel could feel his blood begin to boil at the distaste towards Maria’s choice of punishment.

“Joel, I know you ain’t a fan of Lucas cus’ of how he grabbed Beanie, but you’re gonna drive yourself mad holdin’ a grudge like this. Seth is your stereotypical dickhead, and if I had the authority to kick him out myself? I would.”

“It ain’t have anythin’ to do with Beanie, Tommy.” Joel was quick to snap back. “I don’t trust the guy. Y’remember when we found those bodies in the woods? He barely blinked an eye! He’s got the whole goddamn town wrapped ‘round his finger just cus’ I broke his poor poor wrist. He’s like a snake, i’m tellin’ ya!” He spoke exasperatedly without a care in the world if he was making some wild accusations. Accusations were only false until evidence was presented to turn that false claim to be true.

Joel watched as his younger brother scrubbed his hand down his face with a roll of his shoulders. “Jesus Christ, Joel. Do y’hear yourself right now?! Fuck. Y’can’t be goin’ n’makin’ these wild accusations without any evidence to back it up! Look, I ain’t a huge fan of the guy either, but I ain’t gonna be wavin’ my finger around like you are.” He shook his head disappointedly.

“Course you ain’t. Why don’t ya jus’ go’n turn a blind eye like everyone else then. Go ahead and be a fuckin’ sheep, Tommy.”

Tommy breathed in deeply through his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. He knew that Joel was smart. Smarter than most of the community would believe him to be. Joel also wouldn’t go and make wild accusations without having valid emotions set behind it. If Tommy was going to prove himself to be loyal to his brother, then he was going to have to start making those tough choices now.

“Alright, lets jus’ calm down here for a second, alright?” Tommy tried to reason with him.

Joel was dead silent as he leaned his weight against the chair with a stern look crossing his weathered features as he waited for his brother to continue.

“If you’re suggestin’ that y’wanna start keepin’ tabs on Lucas’s whereabouts, you better have a damn good plan at not gettin’ caught. Cause if this whole thing goes up into fuckin’ flames? Y’know I ain’t gonna be able to defend you without a solid amount of evidence. I��ll take the bullet for ya, but you better give me a damn good reason to, Joel.”

“That’s exactly what i’m suggestin’, Tommy. Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe I'm losin’ my mind, but somethin’ about him ain’t sittin’ right with me. If I'm proven wrong, there won’t be a bullet for ya to take.” His tone was much softer now as he un-tensed his shoulders and jaw.

“Alright. Y’do what you gotta do, but don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone, figure out what you’re up to.” Tommy declared in a serious tone as he pushed himself up from the chair.

“Thank you.” Joel murmured.

“For what?” Tommy asked with a slight raise of his brow.

“For havin’ my back.”

“That’s what brothers are for ain’t it? Jus’ don’t make me regret it, Joel.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Tommy responded with a slight nod before he was slipping past the shed door and into the steady rhythm of rain.

Joel sank back further into his chair as he faced his work bench once more. He gently blew off a bit of wood dust that had settled along Tess’s delicately carved forelock. He worked on the sculpture for hours into the late night until he inevitably fell asleep at his work bench with the soft pattering of rain to lull him into slumber.

Maria was eating her words after one day of not having Joel on patrol. Cody was grazed in the shoulder by a stray bullet that was shot at point range from the nearby treeline. Raiders, no doubt. This one was just a scout, but a skilled one. Not as skilled as Tommy, who ultimately took him out.

Maria dismounted from her horse as Tommy was checking the body for any clues. Any information that would lead them to the raider camp. His search was fruitless. Unrewarding as he crouched down along the bloodstained earth with a sigh. His eyes narrowed in on where his bullet was buried in the scout’s temple, right between his eyes that were now staring up at the dove gray sky, cold and lifeless for eternity.

“I told you it wasn’t a wise idea to take Joel off patrol.” He muttered under his breath as he stood up straight.

Maria ignored her husband as she stood over the body. “Are there others?”

“No. Jus’ the one. That ain’t to say that this one didn’t come from a camp. Most likely was a scout.”

“I thought they would have moved on by now. What the hell are they sticking around for?” She asked with a shake of her head. As far as she was concerned, the raiders should have moved on by now. What was their purpose for sticking around? There weren't nearly enough of them to devise a plan of attack on the town.

“No clue. What I will say is that we’re gonna have to patrol the area more frequently. Expand our routes in every direction. More importantly, Joel is back on patrol startin’ tomorrow.” He leaned in close to his wife as he spoke. This wasn’t him asking for her permission, this was him telling her.

Maria didn’t argue with him.

Joel was back on patrol the following morning. He remained neutral with his sister-in-law. He felt no reason to be smug, especially when he was trying to keep a low profile on himself. It did come as quite the surprise when Maria showed up on his doorstep to personally ask him herself. Now, he was back in the saddle on Tex with the strap of his rifle resting across his shoulder as he rode next to Tommy.

It was fairly quiet as Tommy mapped out the next patrol routes to take. Tex and Timber were as quiet as two mice as their sturdy hooves flattened the earth beneath them. There were no alarming signs of raiders. No danger that could be detected as Tommy placed a marker down at the midpoint. Joel had eased Tex to a halt as he leaned down and gave him a gentle pat on his jet-black neck. His eyes zoned in on a rustling in the tall wispy grass. He noticed fur and white spots as he carefully dismounted. Tommy was half paying attention to his brother as he was scribbling something down on the map.

Joel had slowly crouched down as his hands gently pushed apart the tall grass. There he found a tiny fawn, not more than a day old, curled up in a protective position with only the tips of its tawny colored ears visible. His face softened as he gazed at the innocent creature. He wondered if its mother was nearby. He knew that fawns were often left in a safe area while the doe would search for food. He was just about to stand up when the wind direction shifted and the stench of death attacked his senses.

“Holy fuck.” Tommy stated in disbelief as he was standing over the fawn’s dead mother. At first he thought this was the work of wolves or another predator, but this was man. The poor creature was butchered in a disrespectful and heinous way. Both brother’s had butchered many game animals for meat, but not in the way that would send a grown man buckling to his knees and retching the contents from his stomach. The doe’s body was mangled to say the least. The details were too gruesome for even Joel or Tommy to describe.

“Wolves?” Tommy asked in an unsure tone. He knew the answer.

“No. Wolves wouldn’t kill like that. This was man’s work.” Joel grimaced.

“A warning?” There was a sharp edge to Tommy’s tone as he leaned his weight back into the heels of his boots.

Joel kicked at a patch of torn up grass with the toe of his boot. “Can’t know for sure, but it’s a possibility.”

Both Miller brother’s attention diverted to movement in their peripheral vision as the fawn had hesitantly crept out from the tall grass. Its legs were still a bit wobbly with each step it took towards Tex and Timber. Both horse’s were gentle and curious as their heads lowered towards the tiny, defenseless creature. The fawn’s coal black nose nuzzled against Tex’s before it collapsed to the ground with a squeak.

“We can’t leave it out here to die, Tommy.” Joel sighed as he placed his hands on his hips.

“What the hell are we supposed to do? Take it back with us? Joel, it’s a goner without its mom. Jus’ let it meet its fate.”

“No. It’s innocent. Jus’ barely a day old. It doesn’t deserve to die out here alone or god forbid get torn to shreds by wolves. I won’t stand for it.” Joel muttered as he approached the fawn once more. The poor thing was trembling as it tried to escape between Tex’s front legs.

“Hey, easy there little one. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Joel softly spoke as he shrugged his flannel off his arms. “You’re alright. You’re safe. M’gonna take care of ya.” He cooed as he gently brought the flannel around the trembling creature and scooped it into his arms. The fawn struggled for a moment as it cried out for its dead mother. Joel continued to soothingly speak to it while his fingers gently stroked the top of its delicate furry head. Once the fawn recognized it was no longer in danger, it settled in Joel’s arms and soon fell asleep as it was ridden with exhaustion and malnourishment.

“Where are ya even gonna keep a fawn, Joel?” Tommy asked as he mounted back onto Timber with a huff.

“Dunno. Maybe I can make a pen or somethin’ next to Tex’s stall. I’ll figure that out when we get back.” He gruffly spoke as he used his free arm to mount back into the saddle. He was careful to not jostle the fawn too much as he held it securely with his freehand clutched around the reins.

He tilted his head downwards in a somber motion towards the fawn’s deceased mother.

I’m sorry, my dear. Man can be so cruel. So unforgiving towards Earth’s innocent creatures.

The tidings of a new morning kissed your skin like dew drops along a flower petal. You were so grateful for the company of Ellie and Dina. They had shown you unconditional kindness that came purely from their souls. Now you have two new friends. The three of you would become as thick as thieves. Until then, you were back in your shop with the door propped open to welcome in the fresh late spring breeze. Summer was on the horizon in a day's time. You decided to spruce up a little to get your mind off Joel and how you dismissed him on your couch after the incident. Your heart hurt as your mind replayed the image of his hurt stricken face as he slipped past your door. The night was so perfect, too perfect. You knew you’d see him again, but when? Under what context? You couldn’t blame him for not seeking you out. You never meant to hurt his feelings and of course he knew that, but your heart still stung. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

You were drawn away from your present thoughts when the bell dangling along the door chimed. Your heart skipped a fucking beat as you immediately assumed it was your Joel. You were already subconsciously checking your appearance in the mirror along the wall when you heard someone clear their throat. Your face fell mildly for a moment when you turned the corner. It wasn’t your Joel; it was Lucas, with a visible bandaged wrist.

“Hey, Beanie.” He waved with his good hand as a lopsided smile spread across his lips.

Your eyes zoned in on his bandaged wrist as he approached the countertop where you were presently standing. When did that happen? How did that happen? Who broke his wrist? Did..Joel have something to do with this?

“Lucas? Hey, how are you doing? I uh–wasn’t expecting you to drop by.” You calmly spoke as you nervously played with your fingers behind your back.

“Could be better. Nice place y’got here. I shoulda stopped by sooner. What’s your speciality?” He gestured to the chalkboard menu above the countertop.

“Lattes. Any flavored latte really. Would you..like one?”

“Sure. Surprise me with the flavor.” He shrugged as he looked around with an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m sure you’re wonderin’ why I stopped in today, huh? I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night. I had no intentions to send you any mixed signals, Beanie. If I was coming across in a suggestive way, I am very sorry.” He apologized in a calm and collected manner as he stood a few inches from the countertop.

“Oh, it’s alright. I suppose I should apologize as well for the way that I reacted? I’m just..not used to people reaching out and grabbing me like that. I am sorry for causing a scene. I know that you didn’t have any ulterior motives. Was the way I reacted a direct result in the cause of that bandage around your wrist?” You asked quietly as you grabbed a mug for the latte.

“My wrist?” He chuckled then as he leaned his elbow against the countertop casually. “You could say that. Your guard dog has himself a bit of a temper. S’a good thing it was a clean break. Scraped my face up pretty good too.” He responded in such a casual tone that you couldn’t help the slight chill that rolled down your spine like a dripping faucet.

“Im..sorry? My guard dog? Are we talking about Joel? He broke your wrist?”

“Darlin’ who else would act that way? Yes, it was Joel. Cornered me in the alley and shoved me against the wall.” He tsked under his breath with a sigh.

“Lucas, I'm so sorry. I swear, I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t tell him to go and break your wrist.”

“Beanie, s’alright. He’s a violent man. Probably woulda killed me with his bare hands if he got the chance. Anyway, I jus’ wanted to make sure I cleared the air with you first and foremost.”

Your stomach felt slightly queasy as your fingers trembled out of sight. You weren’t naive. You knew that Joel had killed numerous people in order to survive for this long. You held no judgment towards him. Everyone had to kill at some point in order to survive. Why would he act in such a manner if he no longer had to function in survival mode? Joel’s violent outburst towards Lucas wasn’t sitting right with you at all. You could feel your heart rate increase as you clutched your chest with a shaky breath.

“I’m–i’m sorry he did that to you, Lucas. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it.” You stuttered out as you nearly spilled a bit of coffee on your hand while you were handing him the mug.

“Like I said, it’s alright. Don’t go and worry your pretty little head over that violent Joel Miller. Thanks again for the latte.” He was looking right into your eyes now as he took the mug from your trembling hands. He stepped back from the counter followed by a tip of his imaginary hat in your direction. “See ya around, Beanie.” He left through the front door of your shop moments later and disappeared down the street.

You were left frozen on the spot as you used a rag to wipe away the stray dribbles of coffee from the counter. Your hands were still trembling as you busied yourself with more cleaning.

Joel would never. He wouldn’t.

Oh, but he would.

He did.

Why would Lucas lie about his wrist?

Joel is a violent man.

It's in his nature.

He’s dangerous.

Unpredictable.

A ticking time bomb.

And you’re a fool if you think otherwise.

Maybe that nagging voice inside of your head was right. Maybe Joel wasn’t all you believed him to be. This was about to be put to the test when his familiar scent wafted in through the open door. You heard his boots scuff along the wood flooring as the bell chimed above his head. He was holding something in his arms. You couldn’t tell what it was, but by the flushed expression on his face, whatever it was held a sense of urgency to him.

“Beanie.” He breathed out as he held the bundle in his arms close to his chest.

“Joel.” Your response was meek as you stepped around the corner of the countertop.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. Couldn’t leave this poor baby out in the wilderness to die.” He murmured urgently as he approached.

“Joel, what are you talking about?” You asked with a hint of caution laced in your tone.

“This..fawn. Tommy and I were patrolin’ and I found it in the tall grass. Its mother was..killed by wolves presumably. I couldn’t just leave it out there. It’s barely a few days old.” He spoke softly as he gently pulled back the flannel to reveal the tiny fawn’s head. Its big brown eyes stared up at you with thick black lashes. The fawn showed timid curiosity as it sniffed the air for any immediate threats.

“Oh my goodness.” You whispered in disbelief as you peered down at the innocent creature.

How could a man be so violent, yet be tenderly holding a fawn in his arms as if it was fine delicate china that would shatter from the slightest touch.

It made your head spin.

“I ain’t got a single clue how to take care of it, and there's no tellin’ if it’ll make it through the night. Can..you help me, please?” He looked into your eyes, pleading silently.

“Joel, of course I'll help you. It's probably starving. Why don’t you..sit down and i’ll get some milk. Hopefully the poor thing will drink it.” you murmured in a hush tone as you disappeared behind the counter. There was a fridge in the back room that stored milk, cream and the occasional snack or two. You grabbed the small bottle of milk and a bowl before returning to the front area. Joel was sitting stiffly in one of the chairs as the fawn laid comfortably in his lap. You took the seat across from him with the bowl and milk bottle sitting on the table before you poured a bit into the bowl. “Here, put a bit on your finger and see if it’ll nurse.”

He slowly looked over at you before he nodded and used his free hand to dip one of his fingers into the bowl. The fawn was already lifting its head towards the familiar scent of milk and when Joel slowly lowered his finger towards the fawn’s nose, it immediately began to nurse. Joel stilled in his seat for a moment as images of a baby Sarah nursing from a bottle in his arms surfaced through his mind. She was so tiny. A silent tear rolled down the cavern of his cheek as the fawn sucked the few drops of milk from his finger.

“Joel?..”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he went to brush the stray tear away.

“Joel, what..happened after you left the bathroom?”

God, she knows. She knows and now she’s afraid of me.

You watched as he inhaled a sharp breath before his eyes slowly flitted over to yours. He held a steady contact before he finally spoke.

“I did what I felt was right. It’s not alright for anyone to go and grab someone like that. He had no right to touch you, Beanie.” He breathed out.

“And you had the right to break his wrist?” Your voice trembled slightly as you watched the way his face fell.

“Beanie, I–couldn’t jus’ let him get away with that. I only wanted to protect you.” He tried to reason with you.

“Joel, I never asked you to protect me. You can’t just go and break people’s wrists just because they touched me. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

“You never had to ask. It comes naturally to me. Look, I've already been punished for my violent actions. I couldn’t leave it alone because you were a wreck. I came into the bathroom and you were thrashing like a goddamn fish in Tommy’s arms. You wouldn’t even let me get near you for over ten minutes. Don’t you remember? Honey, you were in fuckin’ shambles.” He nearly whispered as his voice cracked.

“I–I don’t remember, Joel. I don’t remember any of it.” You could feel the tears begin to brim along your waterline as your fingers trembled in your lap. “I..was that bad?”

“Beanie..you tucked yourself between two sinks with your back facin’ Tommy and I. My intentions were to just..rough him up a bit. He didn’t even know what the hell I was gettin’ on him for. He acted like he had done nothin’ wrong. Look, if you hate me now, and you ain’t want nothin’ to do with me, jus’ please save it. I’ve endured enough pain in my life. Jus’ rip the bandaid off if that’s what you gotta do.”

“What?” You looked over at him with tears freely rolling down your cheeks, mirroring his own. “Joel, I don’t hate you, I just didn’t understand why you did what you did. I wish that I remembered what had happened so that I could wrap my head around this whole thing. Lucas came in here about twenty minutes ago and told me what happened. He also apologized for how he acted, and then he left.”

Hell had suddenly frozen over in Joel’s world when you recounted Lucas having the nerve to show up to your shop and apologize for his behavior. Joel knew he had to remain calm despite the temperature of his blood skyrocketing. Lucas was here. He was in your shop, and Joel was not happy about it.

“Beanie, S’alright that you don’t remember what happened. I don’t wanna end up triggerin’ your memories or nothin.’” He sighed softly as he thought about the careful choice of words he’d have to use when discussing Lucas. “Lucas was here?..Well, I'm glad that he apologized. Is that all he said?”

“Joel, it’s not okay that I don’t remember. I can’t fucking recount anything after the moment he grabbed my arm. It’s all a blank screen in my mind.” Your tone alone gave away how frustrated you were as you vigorously wiped away your tears. “He–said that you’re a violent man, and that I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about it.” You whispered the last bit out as your eyes drifted down to your trembling palms that were resting in your lap.

Joel bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough that he could taste copper along his tongue. He swallowed hard as he tried to calm his nerves. How dare he. How dare he try and turn you against him. What was this little conniving snake trying to stir up now?

“He’s right. I am a violent man.” He muttered under his breath. “I’d be a fool to sit here and try to lie to you, Beanie. I’ve done some godawful things in the name of survival, but I'd never hurt you. I’d never grab you like that. I’d never cross those boundaries. Beanie, please jus’ be careful, okay? Please.”

“Joel, I know you’d never hurt me. I don’t care that you’re a violent man. Who am I to judge you? Everyone has had to kill to survive. I’m no saint either. Look, neither you or I can go back to that night. I wish I could. I wish I could reverse the clock because I was having such a good time with you, Joel.” You looked over at him with glassy eyes as you sniffled softly.

“You..don’t care? Do you truly mean that, Beanie? I was having such a wonderful time with you as well. I’m sorry that I allowed myself to act upon violence. I should have jus’ stayed in the bathroom with you and Tommy. Should have stayed with you.” His head dropped slightly in mild defeat.

“Joel, of course I mean that. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for pushing you away when you tried to comfort me on my couch. You were just trying to help and I pushed you away..”

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to apologize for a goddamn thing. You needed space, so I gave it to ya. You know your body best. I wasn’t gonna try’n force you to let me stay. Last thing I wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.” He murmured sincerely.

You wanted to laugh through your tears when he called you sweet girl. You weren’t anywhere near the age of a girl anymore, but it was still a thoughtful gesture that you appreciated more than you realized.

“Can..we start over? Can we put this all behind us?” You asked hesitantly as your hand slowly reached across the table.

“Course we can. There ain’t anyone here that can tell us that we can’t. Clock’s still goin’ but that doesn’t mean we gotta stick with the times. We can go at it at our own pace. Whatever we’re comfortable with.” He reassured you as his hand that wasn’t occupied with the fawn reached towards you across the table.

Your fingertips brushed before they interlocked in a gentle squeeze as you both fell into a moment of silence.

“What do we name this little one?” He asked softly as he dipped his free finger back into the bowl of milk.

“Bambi?” That seemed like the obvious choice given the circumstances.

“Nah.” he murmured with a boyish grin. “How about Beanie number 2?”

“How original.” You mused with a soft smile on your lips.

“Or what about Honey? Pretty sure it's a girl.” He shrugged.

“Honey. I like it.” You murmured as you squeezed his hand gently.

“Y’hear that, Honey? We’re gonna take care of ya. Remember that horse you were nuzzlin’ on? That’s Tex. He’s gonna be your protector too. We’re gonna make sure you have a good life, alright little one?” He spoke so softly to the innocent creature that gazed up at him like he had crafted the sun for that fawn with his bare hands in his toolshed.

How could a man be so violent, yet so tender.

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[margueritedaisies]

Hi I saw your really cute Adamsapple ideas and was wondering if you think they give each other pet names? :3c

Like I can imagine lucifer loves seeing Adam flustered and smothers him in affection and cute nicknames like

Lucifer: Honeybun~ Cutie Pie~ My little Pookie bear~

Adam as red as a beetroot: W-what?? What do you want?

Lucifer smiling victoriously: nothing you’re just cute~ *mission accomplished*

But also Adam doing it back for the first time, literally just one “Lucy sweetness?” And lucifer is dead on the floor from the heart explosion he’s just experienced from the cuteness💓 :3c

I think Adam would never gave sweet petnames but Lucifer got him into it overtime. He only does it rarely. But he still flustered everytime he tries. His first try was a meek clumsy "schnookums". Lucifer immediately glomps him after hearing it like his baby just said their first words (the cute aggression actin up).

Adam mostly chooses the most generic corny nicknames like all his creativity only comes out from insults but buffers when it comes to petnames.

He never had good marriages to really experience genuine affection. Thats why he ends up getting awkward when his intentions are genuine.

When they have a petty argument Adam is all defeated saying " I hate you"

Luci with a shiteating grin just comes over to hug him and says "No you dont" in a singsongy voice

Adam leans in the touch " Hm, yeah, maybe I dont..."

[acefiree]

𝗯𝗮𝘆! 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 | bedtime argument

Raphael ✷ Grayson ( dating ) MASTERLIST

ᕦ(๏益๏)ᕥ: when stupid argument turn into a cuddle session with the hotheaded ninja.

WARNINGS: ocs, first pov, cuddling, slight tension, harsh words.

NOTE: this can be read as a reader insert, so enjoy ❤️

      IT WAS A PETTY argument, one that I couldn’t even remember how or why it started. But it was still an argument, and it left me fuming with my boyfriend. My very hotheaded, burly, boyfriend – who right now, was lying on his side of the bed, eyes sharp as the Sai he wields as he stared down at me.

      "Why are ya' actin' like a brat?" The fuck? His words came off gruff, and the tone he used caused my blood to boil. Did he really just call me a brat?

      "Brat? Seriously?" I snipped, the angle I was in giving me a perfect view of his face. I squinted my eyes up at him. I know this was childish, but the petty side of me was strong. So I did the most logical and expected thing any girlfriend would do when pissed off at their boyfriend. I grabbed a handful of my thick duvet, jerking it up my body until it reached under my chin, “I’ll show you a frackin’ brat!”

      This time, instead of egging him on to get a rise out of him, I swiftly rolled over and faced away, curling under the blanket to hide myself from his glare. I could feel the bed shift from behind me, dibbing deep from the weight of the burly turtle. There was a gruff huff, and I knew Raphael was even more annoyed now.

I felt the bed shift again, and I could only assume he was rolling onto the back of his shell, given the fact the matress jostled with his movements, as if he were having a little trouble getting comfortable. After that, a deafing silence filled my room and the only sounds was of us breathing. I'm sure a whole hour passed, and by then, I had calmed to the point I started to feel bad.

All I wanted to do now is roll over, curl into his arms, and pepper kisses on his face until he showed me that breath taking smirk I loved so much. But the stubborn side of me wouldn't allow that. Raphael couldn't think what he said earlier was okay. Sure, calling me a Brat pissed me off, but that wasn't the reason I was upset.

He had just come through my window in a pissy mood because things at the lair where tense, him and Leo butting heads again, so naturally he was already upset, with his quick temper and rebellious attitude. I know he had a hard time controlling his actions when it came to following his older brothers demands for their team. But what started our argument was something so so stupid, and I should have known telling him to give Leo a break would set him off.

Raphael just wanted someone to take his side for once, but I didn't, instead I took his older brothers side. Though, it wasn't with ill intent. I only said what I said because it was true. Leo could be an ass sometimes, but the guy had the stress of protecting his younger brothers, and on top of that, he was the leader. And when I tried telling Raph that, it didn't play out the way I had hoped.

"If ya' wanna defend Fearless so bad, why don't ya' date him instead,"

Those words had hurt, but I knew he didn't mean them. It was very, and I mean very rare for Raphael to get snippy with me like that. But tonight, I caught him in one his worst moods, and I should have approched the situation better. Though, I wasn't going to give in and let him think speaking to me like that was okay.

Cause it's not, and he won't do it again. I couldn't give in to his tough-guy charm, which always made my heart flutter in the most alluring way.

      I kept my eyes closed, hoping soon, sleep would take me so I wouldn't just fold.

      Just as I was starting to relax, and drift into sleep, the feeling of three large fingers incasing the side of my shoulder had me wide awake and on guard. At first, I reached up, pushing his hand away, trying to show him I meant business. But then, the bed dipped as he rolled to face me and a muscled arm around my mid-section made my stubbornness melt away as I was tugged backward into a hard, plastron chest.

      His arm slotted under mine as he gently turned my upper half a little so he could see my face, his beak burring into the dip of my shoulder as he laid a small kiss on my skin. A tiny shiver ran down my spine as he let out a small rumble, the deep sound vibrating against my back as he left a trail of soft kisses until he got to my ear and lowly whispered.

"I'm sorry, baby, I shouldn'a spoke to you that way..."

His lips were ghosting over mine as I turned my head, finally getting a good look at those green eyes I loved so much. There was a softness to his gaze, and I could see the regret shining in the pools of his eyes.

My own gaze softened the longer I stared into his eyes, and no words had to be shared, because I knew, he was honestly sorry and he knew he messed up. And he also knew I couldn't stay mad for long, especially not when was staring at me like that, a look I was sure he had learned from Mikey, who oftentimes got anything he wanted when he pulled this expression.

      His soft apology had me like putty in his hands, and all I could do in response was nudge my nose against his, laying a soft peck on the scar on his upper lip before grasping the hand that somehow wedged its way on the other side of my head. Turning back around, I sunk into his hold and tugged his arm under my chin, which was slunked over me like a protective blanket. I kissed his knuckles, earning a deep churr in response as he relaxed and laid back, effectively pulling my smaller form closer.

      I felt him bury his face into my hair, inhaling deeply "Ya' drive me crazy, babe."

      This time, a tiny giggle escaped my lips and I ran my fingers over his forearm, marveling at how rough he was compared to my softness. "You love me for it,"

      "Yeah, I do." He murmured, kissing my head once more before dropping his hands to trail the curves of my body that were slotted against his larger form. He rumbled once again, "So fuckin' much,"

MASTERLIST