#beth-simmer

[umberpath]

That finale has me destroyed. Wow...

[dollyzdaydreamz]

Arthur Morgan x Reader fluff

Flowers for a Gunslinger

Description: You always figured love wasn't meant for you, that you weren't the kind of woman a man would bring flowers to. One day, Mickey, the homeless "ex-veteran" in Valentine who has a little crush one you, gifts you with a little flower. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur decides to one up the poor bastard by gifting you a flower of his own. Warnings: a teensy bit of angst, gunslinger reader (was orphaned), age gap, unrequited love, but not really bc Arthur actually *does* love the reader (✿◡‿◡)

pls forgive any grammatical or spelling errors lol, wrote this at 3 AM

Valentine was as noisy and foul-smelling as ever. The scent of manure and whiskey blended in the streets, and the voices of townsfolk rose and fell like the hum of cicadas in the summer. You and Arthur had been riding in from camp, the two of you sent by Dutch to meet the others at the saloon. It was a routine trip, the kind that felt almost mundane compared to the chaos that life in the gang usually entailed.

Arthur rode beside you, as he often did, his hat pulled over his face to block out the midday sun. He didn’t talk much unless there was something worth saying, but his presence was always comfortable.

You had known Arthur all your life. Dutch and Hosea had raised you, much like they had him, taking you in as an orphan. After hearing about some robbery gone wrong, they decided to investigate the cottage for extra supplies. That’s when they had found you fussing in a cradle, looking like you’d gone days without eating.

You grew up amongst the outlaws, shooting, fighting, moving, and surviving, but you had never been a killer unless absolutely necessary. You preferred shooting a pistol out of a man’s hand and giving him a good verbal beating rather than blowing his brains out altogether, you left that to Arthur and John.

Love had never been something you spent much time thinking about. It wasn’t meant for people like you, people who knew how quickly things could be taken away. And besides, men never seemed all that impressive anyway. After years of being around them, you’d deduced that most were either crude, greedy, or plain dumb. 

But as the years passed, you began to notice how everyone seemed to have somebody. Dutch had Molly, John had Abigail, Karen and Sean had their drunken courtship, and even poor Kieran was head over heels for Mary-Beth. And then there was Arthur. Arthur had Mary, well at least he used to.

You’d always liked Mary. She was kind to you when you were a child, always greeting you with a warm smile when she visited camp. She was the sort of woman you could never be, graceful, belonging to the world that had no place for outlaws like you.

And yet, no matter how much you admired her, you're little self couldn’t help the quiet, simmering jealousy that settled deep in your chest every time Arthur brought her around. She had his heart, his attention. The same Arthur who used to draw you rabbits and flowers without complaint. The same Arthur who always had a piece of candy tucked away for you when he knew you were feeling down. The same Arthur you had once childishly and foolishly pictured marrying when you grew up.

But that was a long time ago.

Arthur Morgan wasn’t meant for someone like you. And love wasn’t meant for a gunslinger, so you pushed those feelings down, opting to be grateful to have him as a friend. 

 As the two of you neared the saloon, a familiar voice called out.

"Miss, Miss, wait a moment!"

Arthur slowed his horse, glancing over as Mickey, the homeless war veteran who often loitered around Valentine, came hurrying up with nervous energy. His ragged coat flapped as he limped toward you.

Your expression, which had been quiet and pensive, softened as you dismounted your horse and walked over to the man.

“If it ain’t Mister Mickey!” you hollered with a small chuckle, tilting your head. “What’s got you in such a rush?”

Mickey looked a little sheepish. "I, uh… I got you something."

“Well then,” you couldn’t help but grin, “show me, I want to see!”

Mickey fumbled with his satchel, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled out a small flower, its pink petals slightly crumpled but still intact. He held it out with a stiff posture, like it was something precious which made your heart melt.

You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly. Yes it was just a flower, but the gesture was so sweet. You weren’t used to people giving you things. Not unless it was a gun, a saddle, or some tool for survival. Gifts, real, thoughtful ones, were a rare thing.

"I found it in a field!" he explained with childlike excitement. "Wanted to bring more, but the ranchers, well… they didn't take too kindly to me pokin’ ‘round their property"

You frowned, “they kicked you out over some flowers?”

Mickey shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Guess they thought I was up to no good.” 

You reached out, gingerly taking the flower from his rough hand. Without hesitation, you tucked it into the brim of your hat, adjusting it so it wouldn’t fall out.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Mister” you nodded, and you meant it.

Mickey beamed, his shoulders straightening as if he’d just been given a medal of honor, 

“Well, do you like it Arthur?” Mickey asked hesitantly, as if asking for his approval as well, 

Arthur, standing a few feet back with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes playfully before coming forward to give him a pat on the back, 

“It sure is beautiful,” he drawled, before chuckling as Mickey smiled and waddled away aimlessly. He’d always liked that old fool. 

As the two of you made your way toward the saloon, Arthur couldn’t help but notice that the previous grimness in your face had faded into something gentler, something more open.

“Well, well,” he mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “didn’t know you had a thing for older men!”

Well, yes, I do. You thought for a split second.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up, “Shut up.”

“No, really!” He nudged your arm with his elbow, feigning innocence, “...Should I be expectin’ wedding bells anytime soon?”

“He’s just kind, that’s all. Something I reckon you should try out someday.” You scoffed, though there was no real bite to your words.

“Yeah, yeah” Arthur muttered. 

“Today was the first time I was gifted flowers by a man.” You chuckled after a beat of silence, just thinking out loud really, finding the situation a bit funny.

Arthur’s smirk faltered slightly. It was a small thing, just a flicker in his expression, but you caught it.

Sympathy, maybe. He knew you hadn’t had the same experiences as other young women. There was no courtship, no love letters, no dances in fancy dresses. Romance was a foreign concept in a life where survival came first. It made sense that something as small as a flower and a little crush made you feel nice, regardless of who it was from.

But there was also something else in Arthur’s chest, something unexpected. A small, irrational twinge of jealousy. He scolded himself internally, now you’ve reached a new level of pathetic you old fool, jealous of the town nutcase. But it was there all the same.

He scoffed, masking whatever he was feeling with humor. “Then what am I? Chopped liver?”

“Well, when’s the last time you risked getting shot to pick me a flower, Arthur?” You chuckled, as you walked up the ragged steps of the saloon, already hearing the faint piano and sounds of men drunkenly conversing. 

Arthur tutted, shaking his head. “Hell, I guess you’re right.”

“Mhm” you hummed pointedly, before your eyes met Dutch, Charles, and Javier waiting for you two at the bar. 

------------------------------------------------------

A few days later, Arthur’s found himself crouched in the tall grass as he muttered under his breath,

“This is…ridiculous.”

He’d spotted a flower tucked against the base of a tree, a shade of pink that stood out against the greenery. 

“A lot of effort you're putting into your little gift,” Hosea called out from behind him.

“Shut up,” Arthur groaned.

He wasn’t doin’ this for any particular reason, of course. Just happened to see it after him and Hosea had finished robbing some poor bastard, and-

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he grumbled as he finally shooed off the last grazing deer and plucked the damn thing out of it's mouth, shaking it off.

“You are a terrible liar, son.”

Arthur shot him a look, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Pink,” Hosea observed as he stepped forward, examining the flower with a grin, “she’ll like that.”

Arthur grumbled something under his breath before mounting his horse, doing his best to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.

He hated that Hosea could see right through him. Arthur knew he wasn’t the best at saying what he felt, so doing things was the easiest way to show it. Plus it made him feel…good about himself. It reminded him of this one ordeal many years ago. Arthur tutted at the memory, he was probably around 18? 19?

Arthur had been reluctant about drawing for you. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the second he did, you’d start asking for more. And seeing you frown? Well, he hated to admit it, but that damn near killed him.

One evening, you had tugged on his sleeve after camp had settled down.

“Arthur,” you asked, bright-eyed, “Can you draw me an elk? Hosea said he saw one the other day!”

He was exhausted. Dutch had been on him about somethin’, and he was already in a sour mood, just wanting to reach his cot and forget about the day as soon as possible. So, for the first time, he snapped,

“Just-draw it yourself.”

You faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough to make his gut twist.

Hosea, who had been watching nearby, frowned at him before following you as you scurried off.

Later that night, Arthur spotted you in Hosea’s tent, crouched over a piece of paper, brows furrowed in concentration. You were trying so hard, but eventually, you threw the pencil down, frustrated, before curling up and hiding your face under the covers. 

“You moron Morgan,” Arthur groaned as he rubbed his face, before bringing his journal out from his satchel and getting to work.

The next morning, you woke up to a neatly folded piece of paper by your head.

“Well, what do we have here?” you heard Hosea’s warm voice ask as he leaned down, unfolding it for you even though he already knew.

It was the most intricate and beautiful drawing of an elk you had ever seen.

You had gasped, grinned so wide your face hurt as you and Hosea pointed out little details in the sketch. Arthur didn’t say anything about it, but he saw that smile again. That was enough. 

Sure enough, a few days later, you had forgotten about the whole thing.

A faint smile adorned Arthurs face as he reminisced, before quickly clearing his throat and spurring his horse onward after he saw Hosea eyeing him.

------------------------------------------------------

You had just returned to camp, seeing Mary-beth’s face buried in a book before it lifted and met yous, 

“Evening” she greeted you with a suspiciously playful glint in her eye. 

“Hi Mary-beth�� you chuckled hesitantly, “what’s with that look?”

“Nothin’” she shrugged looking back down at her book as the corners of her lips twitched up, “just couldn’t help but notice the gift Mister Morgan left ya”

“Gift?” 

“Go and see for yourself,” she said. 

You scoffed a little at her sudden mysterious demeanor, before you spotted something sitting on the small table near your tent. A small, glass-encased flower. Not just any flower, a soft pink, delicate and rare.

You furrowed your brows, stepping closer. There was a small note beside it.

"Didn’t get shot at, but I did have to fight off a feisty deer."

-Arthur

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as warmth bloomed in your chest.

“Oh, how romantic,” a voice from behind you drawled, “a blossoming love between two gunslingers” Mary-beth sighed, book clutched to her chest with a dreamy look in her eyes. 

You rolled your eyes, “You gotta stop readin’ all those god-awful romance novels” you muttered, although you had to turn away to hide the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“Alright, fine I’m just teasin’ ya…” 

You scoffed, as she looked back at you pointedly while walking back to her tent, before your lifted the glass carefully, admiring the flower inside. 

It was beautiful, untouched by the roughness of the world. You ran a finger over the edge of the case, 

Arthur Morgan.

That fool.

You took the flower and carefully placed it on your table, somewhere safe.

Arthur leaned against a tree near camp, watching from afar as you carefully positioned the flower on your desk, adjusting it just right before admiring it.

He felt something stir in his chest at that rare smile.

He should’ve just let the moment pass. Should’ve walked off, but he let himself savor this moment for just a moment longer.

dividers by @fairytopea and @kodaswrld

images found on Pinterest but collaged by me:)

[inuyashaluver]

more leah x lessi x reader please

a bunch of kids - leah williamson, alessia russo

leah williamson x alessia russo x reader

description: in which you and your two girlfriends are just a bunch of kids, random moments in your lovely life

warnings: timeline makes no sense cause i said so - alessia was signed to arsenal a little earlierrrr. polyamory, NO SHIPPING - ALL FICTION, this is my brain rot by the way, i'm rusty!

a/n: you ask and i deliver hehe, how is everyone? i missed you all dearly!! my exam season has simmered and i can now put out more fics!! enjoy my lovesssssss xxx

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was anything to sum up your relationship with your two girlfriends, it was that you were all a massive bunch of kids. there was just something so youthful about your relationship, the joy was incredibly infectious to anyone around you.

alessia and leah, two blondies that were most ardently in love with you, and you with them. the amount of love, trust and happiness imbued in your relationship was so clearly transparent to everyone.

love is special, and these two girls only made it more remarkable. 

—

the union of the three of you was a bit of a blur to be honest. you were slightly younger than the two, coming up to the senior teams a little later than them, but boy did you make an impression.

they heard of you, the up-comer from the youth teams, absolutely annihilating everyone from the midfield. 

and the moment you stepped through that door from arrivals at st george’s park, sparks flew. and it wasn't even an exaggeration, they both fell in love, then and there, and funnily enough so did you. 

the progression was unexpected, but they both knew they had to have you. especially when you scored your first senior goal and the two blondes lingered in an embrace much too long for platonic courtesy - there was something there and it was undeniable.

it just…happened. one minute you're teammates and the other you're moving in together and signing your arsenal contract along with alessia to stay close to each other.

you’ve now been dating for a little over 3 years, the absolute best 3 years of your lives.

—

“lee, i’m trying to change” you giggle, squirming in the strong grasp of your girlfriend, “i’m helping” she laughs, kissing your cheek firmly the moment you stilled, “how are you helping, huh?” you mock, slightly pulling back to the side to get a look at her.

she smiles the moment your eyes meet hers, she kisses the tip of your nose before putting her hand to your cheek to direct your face back to the front.

she lets go, pointing around your cubby, “right, baby, there’s your boots, jersey, shorts, and shin pads right there” she says proudly. you throw your head back laughing, head resting on her shoulder as you and leah now broke out into a fit of giggles.

“you always leave me out!” alessia pouts as she comes from the other side of the room to meet the two of you, you pucker your lips up at her immediately. your other girlfriend immediately cups your face and gives you a kiss, not forgetting leah as well. 

“let her get changed, lee babe” alessia laughs, grabbing your hands softly to pull you out of the other girls embrace, “tsk, buzzkill, man” leah groans, kicking the ground with her boot.

alessia raises her eyebrow at leah, and you follow suit, “babe” she rolls her eyes fondly, “much better” alessia grins, winking at leah.

“fine” leah huffs, slipping her hands under your hoodie to take it off hurriedly, you gasp, hitting leah jokingly, letting the oldest blonde slip the jersey on you.

“there, darlin’” alessia giggles at your tousled appearance, “poor baby’s been roughed around” alessia holds her arms out to you and you comply, sitting sidewards on her lap. leah scrambles to grab her phone, taking a photo of both of you as soon as you give her cheesy smiles. 

she bussies herself with making it her wallpaper, walking over to beth and steph to brag before you pushed alessia to victoria and kyra. finally, you got changed.

—

“lee, babe, you need to hold still” you laugh, cupping her face in between your hands and holding her face still. “baby, i am still” she smiles, “you are not!” alessia watches in amusement, leah sends her a half hearted glare before winking at the other girl.

“baby, i don’t want to poke your eye out” you reprimand leah, adjusting yourself as you straddled her lap, leah sighs, nodding and looking up so you could do her mascara. you were all currently getting ready for a team dinner with the england squad.

“okay, bubba, go ahead” she squeezes your hips encouragingly, letting alessia feed you and her snacks every now and then. “well done, captain!” alessia praises teasingly, leah grumbles, attempting to say still for you. 

“oh, look how pretty you are” you coo, rubbing your thumb over her neck lovingly, “look how pretty she is, lessi” alessia begins to coo as well, both of you fangirling over how good leah looked tonight.

“oh stop it” she goes red, giving you an appreciative kiss before leaning over to give alessia a kiss as well. “all right, lessi bear, your turn” leah teases, lifting you off her lap and passing you over to alessia.

“oh, i’m a doll then, cool” you laugh, leah kisses your head fondly, alessia hugs you tightly as she peppered your face with kisses, “no, you’re our cute girlfriend” making you all laugh.

"i'm surprised you're sharing this time" you say cheekily, both of them glare at you for that.

— 

“pst” you hear a whisper at dinner, you look up to realise that alessia is smiling at you from across the table, “yes, my love” you grin, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

alessia giggles, and it makes you giggle too. she places her hand on the table, clearly covering something, she pushed forward a small piece of paper.

you cock your head to the side as you looked at her, what was she up to? leah leaned over from the side of you, her head resting on your shoulder, intrigued by your giggles. you open the small paper, laughing immediately when you see the contents.

‘hey, beautiful, i saw you from across the room and thought you were gorgeous, call me xxx - alessia’

leah laughs as well, pulling the note a little closer and giving an impressed nod.

alessia gives you an accomplished smile, so proud of what she had done. you hold your hand up in a phone gesture, winking at her and mouthing “call me”, making both of your girlfriends laugh.

“hey, can i call too? you’re cute” leah grins at alessia, alessia thinks for a moment, “hmm, i’ll think about it” alessia winks.

leah scoffs, clearly offended. “nah, i’m not calling” leah mutters, putting her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side.

you place a hand on her chest, kissing her cheek fondly, “baby, she didn’t mean that” leah looks down at you with a charming smile, kissing your lips sweetly. “don’t care, i’m not calling” she mumbles against your lips. you laugh, patting her thigh before resting it there.

“lessi baby, you didn’t mean that” you nudge her ankle with your shoe, alessia huffs, “lee, are you forgetting we are in a relationship?” alessia waves her finger gesturing to the three of you. leah gives her a shrug, kissing your temple as she pulled you in closer.

alessia rolls her eyes, grabbing her napkin off the table and writing a similar message on it, sliding it to leah when it was done.

leah unfolds it, smiles, shoves it in her jacket and looks at alessia with a cheeky smile. “i’ll think about it” she winks, making you shake your head with a giggle. children.

“why did i have to sit next to you?” beth grimaces from the other side of leah, dry retching at the clear loved up bubble you were in.

—

you collapsed on the floor of the pitch after training two days later, alessia flops on top of you to make you giggle but you actually found it comfortable. your arms hold her to you tightly as you kiss her cheek.

“do you ever spend two seconds apart? that’s my best friend” ella groans, slapping alessia’s back harshly, making her yelp and giggle. leah comes down and flops beside you, giggling at the two of you loved up. "nah, they're obsessed" leah teases.

“ugh, baby! i miss you!” alessia cries, still on top of you. you laugh brightly, moving the hair from her face, “i’m right under you!” alessia groans, “i still miss you” she pouts as she hovers over you.

leah nods, “i feel you on that, babe” you look over at her surprised, alessia looks at her happily, “you get me!” alessia grins, holding up her hand for a high five that leah was quick to return.

alessia pulls you up once the break is over, promptly pushing you into the awaiting arms of leah, who was happy to see you. “alright, gorgeous?” she grins, you nod, letting the girl give you a tight hug.

“my lips are chapped” leah frowns, you frown as well, “i have some lip balm in my bag-” you start, though, are cut off with leah’s lips pressed against yours gently, “so much better” she whispers, making you giggle. 

she spins you around, pushing you towards the midfield for a mini game, “right, we’ve got work to do” leah shouts, “there she is” you and alessia say at the same time, laughing when she sent you that captain’s glare.

"it was fun while it lasted" alessia sighs, kissing your cheek before she got chased by leah to start shooting practice.

god you love these girls. and they love you.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily tooneyyy

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

alessia: we were just trying to have fun, then captain williamson came along

view all comments

yourname: we were mid giggle as well :(

↳ alessia: i know! such a good giggle as well

↳ leahwilliamsonn: in the middle of a match but okay

leahwilliamsonn: no regrets, you both got a goal after this, remember that?

↳ yourname: thank you, baby

↳ alessia: thank you, baby

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you're welcome, my girls!!!

[rsanchezslut]

I just have this crazy image of like. Being DISASTROUSLY tired for whatever reason, maybe work was shit or Rick put you up to something that ended up going badly, and you’re just dragging your tired, achey feet back to your house so you collapse into bed…

And when you finally make it home, pushing open the door expecting dead silence and darkness, Rick is there on your couch waiting for you; a plate of dinner Beth made wrapped in cellophane, a sweaty beer he’s been saving for you next to it on the coffee table, watching TV of sorts or fiddling with an invention and whatnot.

And it used to be you’d get home from days like this to nothing, nobody. And maybe you’d give Rick a call for sex or attention or even just to tell him you miss him… but suddenly he’s waiting up for you, looking at you standing in the doorway to the living room as if he doesn’t know, is ignoring why you’re shocked.

N you don’t want to scare him off, so you sorta just float down next to him, not saying anything, sitting down and waiting for him to acknowledge you except it’s just…

“Well?” Rick says, giving you somewhat of bland look from out of the corner of his eye, “gonna say hi or what, baby?”

You’re not sure if it’s shock or exhaustion causing your silence to fester, the surprise of his presence or the unexpected joy that’s starting to simmer at the realization he had the idea to come see you.

“Hi, Rick,” you coo softly, tiredly, nudging into him as you sink next to him on the couch, and then when he doesn’t respond immediately, “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes. “If I knew you didn’t want me around, I wouldn’t have come. I’m happy to leave.”

There’s no malice in his voice, none of the usual heat and tease, so it’s obvious there’s no intention behind the threat. Still, you reach out for him anyway, grabbing the hand closest to you as if to stop him from pulling out his portal gun suddenly.

“No,” you say, almost too quickly, too needy, causing his pinched face to melt somewhat. “No. I mean… I just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

You lean in hesitantly to press a kiss to his stubbly cheek, a kiss he tilts to return when you pull away slowly, as if in fear that he wouldn’t be receptive. His lips are surprisingly gentle against yours, it’s more of a peck than his usual excited kiss, wet with passion and ferocity at the thought of what will happen next, but the tenderness isn’t unwanted, and in fact, fills you with a sudden warmth that quickly seems to overpower your fatigue from the day.

(And you find that it’s not lust or longing but rather a feeling of affection which seems to buzz under your skin, as if aching to be let out.)

Reaching a hand up to his jaw, you pull back to stare into Rick’s own eyes, suddenly going shy as he gestures to the plate of food he brought you.

“Thanks for coming,” you peck him again, this time fully pulling him away from the TV, “I’m really happy to see you, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says, shutting his eyes as he leans in closer to you. “Me too.”

[chicken-and-potatoes]

Episode 6 - Aftermath show I: Newfound Alliances and Romance

Last time on Total Drama Vacation, ten teams gambled fake money at the casino. The team who was almost dragged out by security being Courtney and Gwen. With our winners being the Arch-Schemers! Will Courtney ever forgive Gwen for being a boyfriend kisser? Have Noah and Alejandro abused their jacuzzi privileges yet? What’s been going on behind the scenes?! Find out tonight on Total. Drama. Vacation!

(Extra below cut)

In our first aftermath show, we are hosted by Beth and her co-host, Ezekiel. We are shown different moments from behind the scenes. These scenes revolve around the moments inside their hotel rooms. The alliances that have been made, and the romance simmering in the background.

[youronebraincell]

hello! I just came across your blog and fell in love with your work! is it okay if I request a Beth Dutton x soft girlfriend reader where she’s the polar opposite of Beth (wears dresses is shy/kind to everyone) and everyone at the ranch has never seen Beth be so nice and in love openly💞

Sugar and Spice

Beth Dutton x Fem!Reader

Warning: implied sex, hurt/comfort, conflicted feelings, eventual fluff, happy ending

Word count: 3055

You’re the new cook at the Yellowstone.

It's before noon when Beth makes her way down the stairs of the main house. She follows the mouthwatering scent of food into the kitchen. She stops dead in her tracks when she sets sight on an unfamiliar woman. Her eyes rake over her figure.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You turn to look at her from behind the stove, your loose skirt swishing with the sudden movement. “Good morning!” You say with a warm smile. “You must be Beth” You extend your dominant hand for her to shake, but she just keeps staring at you, her eyes weary. You retract your hand and turn back to the stew cooking on the stove. You gently stir the rich liquid. “I’m Y/N. The temporary new cook”

“What happened to Gator?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is, ma’am”

Beth closes the short distance between her and the other woman. She towers over you with ease despite you being almost the exact same height. She stares into your eyes. “If you value your life, Y/N, you will never call me ‘ma’am’ again”

You nod. “I’m sorry, Miss-“

“Nope”

You look at her. “What should I call you then?”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me at all” Beth says coldly as she grabs a spoon from the drawer. “But if you have to, call me Beth” She takes a spoonful of the stew with a chunk of beef and a diced potato. She doesn’t blow on the steaming hot liquid before taking the spoon into her mouth. Her eyes flutter close, her jaw sets. You don’t think it was a voluntary reaction. You watch her throat bob as she swallows. She opens her eyes to look at you.

You look back at her.

“Hm. It’s.. edible”

Beth tosses the spoon into the sink.

“Be a doll and wash that for me, will you?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond before she’s out of the kitchen. You lower the heat to let the stew simmer a bit. You cover the pot with a clear lid then you wash the things you used to make your dish, including Beth’s spoon.

Once the stew is done, you move onto making the bread from scratch. When you’re finished, you turn off the oven and take out two trays with four small loaves of French bread each. You place them on the counter and take out the last tray.

“Dang it” You curse when you come to the realization that you don’t know how to bring the food outside to the ranch hands. Mr Dutton didn’t show you where the tableware was and you don’t feel right snooping around in his house.

You take a breath and go look for someone who can help you. You reach a room with open doors.

Beth sits behind a desk, her phone pressed to her ear with one hand while the other writes something down on an important-seeming piece of paper.

You hesitantly take a step forward, only to come to a halt when she sets the pen down and raises a finger at you without taking her eyes off of the paper. Beth says something strict and final to whoever she’s on the phone with before hanging up and putting it down. She looks at you.

“What do you want?”

You make a mental note to try and get used to her harsh tone. “I was just wondering if you knew where the tableware was. For the guys”

Beth turns her attention back to the papers on her desk. She turns one page over. “Ask Rip”

“I don’t know who that is..”

“Jesus fucking Christ” Beth mutters before letting out a clearly exasperated sigh and getting up. “Don’t just stand there like a lost puppy. Come on”

You follow her out of the main house.

Beth walks in big strides towards one of the round fence things where the guys ride the horses. It shouldn’t be a struggle to keep up, but it is.

Beth leans against the fence. You stand on the bar at the bottom to make yourself taller. A guy in all black is riding or trying to stay on a wild brown horse. The horse bucks like his sole mission in life is to get the man off him. The man pulls at the reins. The horse neighs in protest. He walks around the post normally now, but you can tell he’s still hot.

You click your tongue twice.

The man hangs on tight as the horse gallops over to you. You reach forward to gently stroke his head. “It’s okay” You say, softly. You run your knuckles up and down the bridge of his nose. You can tell he’s calming down. You use your other hand to caress around his ear and laugh when they both flutter.

“I’ll be damned” The man, who you assume is Rip, says, fixing his sunglasses. “You might be the only person this tough son of a bitch hasn’t tried to bite”

You smile at that.

Beth rolls her eyes. “This is the new cook. She wants to know where the tableware is”

“Jimmy! Show Miss..”

“Oh, Y/N is fine”

“Y/N where we keep the bowls”

A tall skinny guy runs up to you.

Beth pushes herself away from the fence.

Your hand stops mid-stroke of the horse in front of you to watch her walk back towards the house. You can’t help, but let your eyes drift to her ass. You shake your head and quickly turn away.

You work at the ranch longer than you expected.

Mr Dutton appoints you to a cabin not far from the main house. You tried to decline the generous offer, but he voiced his concern about how the drive from your place to the ranch is a waste of time. It doesn’t help that you arrived a whole hour late one day because of a car accident on Maine street.

Your alarm wakes you up at five in the morning. You sleepily reach over to grab your phone from the nightstand to turn it off. You toss it onto the empty side of the bed and close your eyes again.

They open when it feels like you’re being watched.

You sit up and see Beth leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She’s dressed in nothing, but lace panties and a loose red flannel with only a button in the middle to keep it together.

Your mouth waters involuntarily as you look at the valley of her breasts. “Am I still dreaming?”

A smile tugs at the other woman’s lips before she saunters over to you, swaying her hips.

You look up at her when she comes to stand beside your bed. You don’t flinch when she pinches you.

“That answer your question?”

Your eyes widen when she pulls the covers off of you and straddles your lap. Her arms hang loosely around your neck as she looks down at you.

“Jammies. How cute”

You look down at the plain blue pajama set you’re wearing then back up at her. “What-“

Beth shuts you up by pressing her lips against yours in a passionate kiss. By the time you break apart, you’re breathless and mildly confused.

She grabs a hold of your chin and tilts it up to make you look at her. Her thumbs brushes your lower lip.

“You want this, don’t you, Y/N?”

“I-I can’t. You’re my boss’ daughter.. I-“

“It’s a yes or no question, sweetheart”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes”

Beth holds your gaze while pushing her thumb into your mouth. “Then that’s all that matters”

You have sex with her.

It’s around a quarter before six when Beth gets out of bed and puts her clothes back on. To your surprise, she didn’t walk bottomless to the cabin. You watch her pull a pair of loose cotton shorts over her toned legs. You have the covers pressed against your chest while you sit up and watch her get dressed. It’s cliche and completely ridiculous seeing as she already saw you naked, but still.

Once she’s dressed, Beth leaves the room and eventually the cabin, judging from the way you hear the door slam on her way out. You fall back against the mattress and let out a sigh. What just happened? That’s a question that’ll have to wait for another time because you still have a job to do.

Beth walks into the main house with her brows furrowed. What she did with Y/N was supposed to make her feel good. Powerful. And it did.. just not in the way she anticipated. Fuck. Ninety-five percent of the times she had sex with someone, she did it just because she was horny. She never cared about their pleasure, much less their feelings.

So why does she hunch over and retch into the sink to throw up like she was violently hungover?

You don’t see her again for two days.

You’re stacking up pancakes on a plate when she comes into the kitchen. You turn to look at her, but she doesn’t look at you. Her eyes are fixated on the small basket of blueberries on the counter.

“What’s that?” Beth asks, pointing at the basket. There’s an unsettling edge to her voice.

You turn off the burner and stack the last pancake. “Blueberries” You say once you’ve turned to her to give her your full attention. “I went for a walk the other day and saw a few bushes-“

“I don’t care. Where did you get that basket?”

You look at the basket with a confused expression. “Jamie gave it to me” You wince when you suddenly get a cramp attack out of nowhere.

If Beth notices, she doesn’t say anything. “Of course he did. That fucking little bitch”

You don’t know what that’s about. You take a sip of water from the glass you put aside. Your hands grip the counter when you get another cramp. You breathe out slowly, rocking back and forth.

Beth’s eyes roam over you. “What’s wrong with you?” There’s a hint of concern in her tone despite her clearly being bothered by you for some reason.

You shake your head. “Just..” You breathe out slowly, trying to get your bearings, “that time of the month, you know?” You say with a small smile.

Another cramp has you doubling over in pain.

“Jesus.. Christ!” You exclaim after taking a gasp in between. “That hurt. It’s never hurt this bad before”

“They’re period cramps, sweetheart” The other woman says in a condescending tone as she pours herself a glass of water. “They’re supposed to hurt”

“Nothing in this world is supposed to hurt..”

Beth lets out a humorless laugh. “God” She looks up at her ceiling with a disbelieving smile. “You are so fucking naive. How could someone be this..”

The words start to fade as your vision blurs. You sway slightly. It’s not long till everything goes dark.

Your eyes flutter open when you become conscious again. You let out a soft, disgruntled moan as you stir. You feel yourself laying on a bed. You look around the room. You see Beth sitting in an armchair to your right with her back facing the door.

She stands when you try to sit up. Her hand comes to rest on the back of your shoulder while the other puts the pillow against the headboard so you could lean back. It’s only once you’re situated that she sits back down in the armchair.

“Thank you” You say. “What happened?”

“You fainted. Something tells me you skipped dinner last night” Beth says, her head tilted slightly.

You purse your lips. “I didn’t.. measure the contents correctly” You fidget with your fingers. “There wasn’t enough left for me after I served your family”

“You measured correctly” Beth says, her tone firm and certain. “We had two guests that you didn’t account for. That’s not on you, Y/N”

You exhale through your nose, your eyes downcast. You trace the outlines on your palm.

“You vex me”

You look at her. “I don’t know what that means”

“You make me feel frustrated. Thirty-seven years on this earth and I’ve never met someone like you before. Someone so.. kind. So pure”

Beth sucks a breath through her teeth as she looks away. It’s almost like she’s ashamed of something.

“I didn’t have good intentions when we slept together. I wanted some of your purity for myself. After we were done, I felt like I used you. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve used people like that before, but with you it just didn’t feel right and I’m sorry, Y/N”

“It’s okay” You say almost immediately.

Beth stands up. “No, it’s not okay and that’s the point. I used you. You should fucking hate me”

“I could never hate you, Beth”

Beth is taken aback and it shows.

You wince at your own words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out so cheesy” You glance at the untouched glass of water on the nightstand. You point at it as you look at Beth. “Is that for me?”

The woman nods, not trusting herself to speak.

You take a sip and swallow, allowing the cool liquid to enter your body. You take a few more before setting the glass back down. “I like you. I’ve.. liked you for a while now. I was just afraid that.. if I were to pursue you, I’d get rejected and lose this job. So when you came up to me in bed that morning, I thought that was the one and only way I’d ever get to be with you. So technically we both.. kinda.. used each other. I didn’t mean to at the time, but the longer I think about it, the clearer it gets. Does that make sense? I don’t think that it does..”

Beth chuckles at your rambling. She lets out a sigh then looks at you. “You hungry?”

“A little”

“Come on. I’ll buy you breakfast”

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were taking me out on a breakfast date” You say cheekily before bending down to put on your shoes.

“That’s because I am”

Your head snaps up to look at her.

Beth rolls her eyes out of faux annoyance. “Don’t make this weird” She says with a smile as she walks towards the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs”

You watch her leave the room.

When you hear her descend the stairs, you quietly celebrate the fact that she’s not weirded out by you. You compose yourself when you head downstairs.

You get your coat from the rack and put it on before following Beth outside to her Mercedes S-class.

The drive is spent in comfortable silence until you decide to break it by asking the question that’s been itching to get out since you woke up.

“Did I do something wrong? Before I fainted”

Beth glances at you. “What do you mean?”

“The basket? Should I not have used it?”

Beth purses her lips. “It was my mother’s. Jamie knew that and he still..” She stops herself, not wanting her constant anger at him to ruin your moment together. “I was just surprised to see it”

“I’m sorry. I’ll put it back later”

“No” The other woman says with a sigh. “It’s good that you’re making use of it” She says, a small smile tugging at her lips when she glances at you. “Those blueberry pancakes were damn delicious”

You laugh. “Well, I’m glad you liked them”

That comfortable silence from before settles between you again. You look out of the window at the breathtaking scenery that passes you by. You look down at your hand when Beth interlocks her fingers with yours, her dominant hand resting coolly on the wheel. She grips your hand firmly.

You smile when you look out the window again.

From that moment on, you become her girl. And she let everyone on the ranch know it. Of course you had to break it to your boss, her father, first. You kinda just stood behind her as Beth told him about the two of you. She held your hand behind her back for support while you used the other to fidget nervously with the hem of your dress.

You swallowed the lump in your throat when Beth stepped aside and you locked eyes with Mr Dutton.

“Is she gonna interfere with your job, Y/N?”

You tilt your chin up. “No, sir”

Mr Dutton nods. “Then we don’t have a problem”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding once he leaves. Beth chuckles at the pale look on your face before taking you in her arms.

“Did big bad Mr Dutton scare you?” She mocks in a baby voice as she rests her chin on your head.

“Shut up..” You murmur, nuzzling into her chest.

You feel and hear her laugh before she presses a kiss to the top of your head. You smile.

The entire ranch notices the effect you seem to have on Beth. They’ll never voice it to you, because they’re not that stupid, but you get the impression that they’re grateful that you’ve kinda softened her. They’re still scared shitless of her, and honestly who can blame them, but they seem to be more at ease when you happen to be around her.

You watch from a soft blanket on the grass as she talks to Rip. You know some parts about their relationship. Beth doesn’t seem to talk about it, but she doesn’t have to. You can tell how much he means to her and how much she means to him.

She walks over to you and sits down behind you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she presses a soft kiss to your lips. You’re both smiling like fools when you pull away. You turn your attention back to the setting sun. Beth rests her cheek against your head. You lean into her.

“I’m happy to have you in my life, Y/N”

“Me too, Beth. Me too”

You smile when she presses a kiss to your temple.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Carded

Katie McCabe x Reader

Summary: The comeback of McCard

It all happens so quickly, you're not entirely sure what happened.

One moment you're running up the pitch, ball at your feet. You can spot Esme gaining on you from the corner of your eye - a blur in the Man City kit. You weave out of the way but you're not fast enough to avoid Kennedy.

She collides with you viciously.

You don't just lose the ball, you lose your footing as well.

You land on a heap on the ground. For a moment, there's nothing but confusion but the moment your eyesight focuses again, white-hot pain lances through your body.

It radiates from two places.

You know your nose is broken without having to check. You can feel the blood run down your chin, staining your Arsenal kit a deeper red than before.

You can deal with a broken nose.

What you can't deal with is the pain in your ankle.

You're not sure if its sprained or fully broken but you know that you can't walk on it.

You roll around on the grass, clutching at it as if that will stop the pain. Tears leak from your eyes as you stifle a scream or a sob, you're not sure which one it would be.

You're sure the stadium is loud but you can't hear anything over the pounding in your ears.

You groan as a hand holds your shoulder.

You look up.

"Hey," Beth says," The medics are coming. It's okay. They'll be here soon."

You try to nod but any movement of your face has you seeing stars so you just blink a few times, trying to clear away your tears.

Lia joins you a moment later. "Is it just your nose?" She says hurriedly, glancing a bit behind her in worry.

"Wha-?"

"Are you injured anywhere else?" She asks with urgency, still glancing behind her.

"My-My ankle. I-I don't think I can walk."

Beth and Lia exchange a look before glancing behind them again.

You turn your head to follow their eyeline.

The ref is talking to Kennedy (who looks mildly horrified and slightly green when she looks at your bloodied face) but it's the other person standing with them that catches your attention.

Now that you've regained some of your senses, you can hear everything.

Katie's screaming at the ref.

"Just a yellow?!" She demands," Are you crazy? Are you blind, ref? Look at her! She's all bloodied up!"

"Watch it, McCabe," The ref warns," Or I'll card you as well."

Katie keeps arguing but your view gets blocked by the arrival of the medics.

"Definitely broken nose," One of them says as they help you mop up the blood.

"Gee," You say sarcastically," Never would have guessed."

Beth and Lia join you with stilted laughter that lasts a total of two seconds before you're shrieking and writhing on the ground again when one of the medics moves your ankle around.

Looks are exchanged.

You know it's bad news.

"How bad?" You say with gritted teeth.

One of the medics leans down into his walkie-talkie. "We're going to need an ambulance on standby. We're walking out with l/n soon." He turns to you. "It's broken. You'll need x-rays. Are you good to get up?"

You wince. "I'll need help."

"That's a given."

You take a few steadying breaths as you prepare to lift yourself up onto one leg. Beth and Lia linger nearby, ready to help should you need it.

"How bad is it?" Katie demands as she runs over, completely abandoning the argument she's having with the ref. "You feeling alright, babe?"

"Surprisingly, no," You say.

"We need to get going, y/n," One of the medics says," You ready?"

"Going," Katie echoes. Panic appears in her eyes. "Going where? What's going on?"

She looks between you and the medics and then to Beth and Lia, although neither of them wants to be the one to break the news.

You bite the bullet, speaking as you're helped onto your one working leg. "My ankle's fucked," You say bitterly," Collison with Kennedy snapped it, I think. Need to go get an x-ray." You shrug as each medic takes their place on either side of your body, helping you to hop off the pitch.

You press a kiss to Katie's cheek in passing so you don't notice the anger simmering in her eyes until you're almost off the pitch.

The big screen switches from you to Katie, who has turned on Alanna Kennedy with a vicious vengeance.

It probably wasn't a good idea on Kennedy's part to walk past Katie with a smile on her face so soon after you've hobbled off the pitch because Katie grabs her by the shirt and shoves her to the ground.

Kennedy, of course, doesn't take that and surges to her feet.

She shoves Katie back.

Anger blazes in Katie's eyes at the action and she's screaming again - although you can't exactly hear her.

They're both in each other's face and, when Kennedy shoves Katie again, a slap is captured on the big screen.

By the time the pair are separated, Kennedy has Katie's jersey in her grip and Katie looks like she's ready to start swinging again.

The ref blows the whistle.

They immediately give Kennedy another yellow, pointing to the sidelines.

She turns to Katie and flashes a red.

Katie doesn't look sorry whatsoever as she stalks off the pitch. She completely ignores Jonas, who looks ready to yell at her for the whole stadium to hear, and takes the place of one of the medics.

"You shouldn't have gotten that red," You say to her as you're finally loaded up into the ambulance," Jonas will have a field day yelling at you."

Katie shrugged. "I don't care," She said," Kennedy shouldn't have snapped your ankle. She's lucky I was restraining myself."

You let out a huff of laughter - your pain dulled by the painkillers the paramedics have laced you with. "It was a bad decision to go after her." Your face colours slightly. "Although, it was slightly hot - seeing you defend my honour like that."

Katie grins at you - all mischief. "Really? I'll have to do it more often then."

"Preferably without being carded."

"I make no promises."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.18 & No. 20

Prompt 18: Survivor’s guilt (Alt)

Prompt 20: “It’s not your fault.”

Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

There was no answer when you knocked, the silence as thick as the tension, making the door heavier and harder to open. The single candle had burned down to an oddly shaped sculpture, its curves and dips dimming the flame’s reach. The dinner tray you had brought earlier remained untouched, the soup cold and sandwich soggy.

Your heart ached just as much as it burned, scorched with rage that simmered just below your ribs. Daryl was on the edge of the mattress, staring blankly at the floor. It was as if he’d turned to stone, frozen within a nightmare. And you feared he had forever become trapped in a place you couldn’t reach.

“Daryl.” You tried, keeping your distance. He was a wounded animal, fearful and dangerous at the same time. He remained as he was. He had clung to you so tightly when he had clambered off the back of the bike, his legs giving and his tears flowing. It had been the only reaction you had seen from him in his day and a half back at Hilltop. “Daryl.”

You still didn’t approach, but finally he blinked, his bruised and bloodshot eyes sliding over to finally acknowledge you. The attention didn’t last. He was back to staring at the floor within seconds.

You risked two deliberate steps toward him before crouching, making yourself smaller in hope that it would not arouse the terror held at bay within him.

“You need to eat, sleep.”

Nothing.

Sighing, you slowly stood and stepped back before turning away, bending over the candle in preparation to blow it out, a new one beside it so as to keep the darkness away from your partner. The least you could do was stay, give him a measure of comfort that he wasn’t alone.

“Should’a been me.”

His voice was raspy, tired, and so unexpected that you gasped. When you spun to regard him, he hadn’t moved. “What?”

Daryl cleared his throat after an agonizing period of silence. “Was ready. Deserved it. Should’a been me.”

A flash of red, Glenn’s final words. Your lip quivered and your eyes closed as you gathered your bearings. “No.” You whispered, reassuming the earlier position a few feet from him. “Daryl, it’s not your fault.”

“Was. Is.” He muttered, a tear breaking free to cascade down his cheek. You wanted so badly to wipe it away and hold him.

“Negan was going to do what he was going to do. You had no influence over him.” You attempted, dropping to your knees and shuffling forward a few inches at a slow pace.

“F’I hadn’t—” The words dried up on the tip of his tongue, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Oh, Daryl.” You knew he would carry this forever, a guilt on his shoulders that he’d never shed. He still carried Beth after all this time. The weight had lessened, finally splintering off to allow you to carry a portion for him, a burden you were more than willing to bear for him. “You couldn’t stop him.”

His eyes slowly peeled open, wet and shining, and you could no longer stay away.

“Please.” You began. “Let me help you.” When his head turned, even with the heavy pain his expression bore, you had never been more relieved. No, that wasn’t true. The relief came when he nodded, a simple dip of his head that had you carefully climbing to your feet and approaching.

When your hand touched his shoulder, the dam broke. His hands found your waist and pulled you toward him, his face finding shelter against your stomach as his shoulders shook in silent sobs. Gentle fingers carded through his hair, hushed syllables making an effort to soak up even a portion of his suffering.

Each tear, each jerk of his body was gasoline on the inferno raging within you.

And Negan would burn.

[purehypnotic]

Loved your John headcanons! Can we get some for Javier??

hope u don’t mind that i picked these up instead of sadie, but enjoy!!

javier escuella x reader headcanons

sfw, gender neutral

ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈

-When blistering summer days simmer down into blue evenings, a familiar feeling of longing catches up to Javier.

-A refreshing cool breeze on a warm night reminds him of his sister’s laughter, and he sees his mother’s face in the crackling of a toasty campfire.

-But he swallows down the longing like a dry pill. Some nights, Javier is still just a boy who misses his mama. but home is on American soil now, and even if he returns to nuevo paraíso, he’s still got blood on his hands that will never wash away.

-he’s so focused on wiping the violence off his childhood memories that he barely notices you plop into the spot next to him.

-he has half a mind to tell you he isn’t in the mood for your usual antics before he catches the look on your face. It’s full of care, with worry curling your eyebrows and filling your eyes with an unspoken “what’s wrong, jav?”

-the urge to lean in closer to you is like a sixth sense. it’s dangerous how easy it is for him to open up to you.

-he tells you that he doesn’t regret leaving Mexico, but he’s choking on the guilt of missing it so much. he hated being helpless to the abuse of the government, and the day Dutch found him was the day something healed.

-and then he reaches for your hand, holds it close to his warm chest, and whispers to you that despite all the reasons he left nuevo paraíso, he misses having someone to speak his mother tongue with.

- and all you can do is lean in closer and say “teach it to me, then.”

-javier grabs hold of the guitar that hardly leaves his side and begins strumming a sweet spanish tune. As he sings the lyrics, you repeat the foreign words with a tenderness that steals javier’s breath away.

-as his tune grows louder, mary-beth drags arthur for a dance in the center of camp, and in all of your beautiful joy, you join and sway as javier plucks the notes to el reloj.

-Javier realizes that his life here, with this family of outlaws and vagabonds, is better than his old life in many ways. Sure, the violence stayed the same. But the company got better, and he’s fed regularly now.

-(he knows he hasn’t faced the one true reason that he’s happy to stay here)

-humming in the center of camp, at the center of it all, is you, you, you.

ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈𖤓ᨒ𓆈

as always

love, katie 💌

[duchessbird]

Hi Mrs. Beth! I was wondering if we could have a bit more of pegging price? I'm can't stop thinking about him having a long day and getting all pouty and begging for us to fuck him. I totally get it if you don't want to. Have a good day!

Oh, girl. When I tell you I jumped for JOY at this ask. I will always use anything as an excuse to fuck that man (in literature). Ya little genius. <3

xoxo, Mrs. Beth.

CW: Pegging. Gags. Nasty Descriptions of Intimacy. Belittling. Uses of “pup”. Spanking. Edging. Fem!Dom!Reader <3 Not proofread!

John is antsy. Like he is every-time he gets to craving this again. Sitting at his desk, scribbling something akin to English in chicken scratch because there’s a nasty festering under his skin. Desire simmering like an infected cyst.

He remembers the feeling of it. The first time it happened. He was taken aback, stuck between his manhood and the yearning to just fucking relinquish control for once.

He just wants to get home.

His men notice it, too. His leg bouncing more than usual. He’s barring his teeth more often than not and he’s just like a bad dog. Mean and angry. Barking orders to compensate for the touch-starvedness.

By the end of the stack of paperwork, he’s thrumming with anticipation. Packing his bag and trying to shove his reading glasses into their case but his hands are shaking so much and he can’t wait to get home and beg you —

Ding.

His phone goes off. At first, he considers sliding the notification away for tomorrow but he catches your name in his peripheral. Surely asking him what he wants for dinner, or showing him whatever parcel had gotten delivered that day.

But no.

It’s a video of you, stark naked as far as the eye can see, stroking your strap. Like he would do on his real manhood if he was crunched for time. Mumbling behind the camera about how ready you are for him. To ruin his hole. A slight whimpering edge to your voice has his knees nearly giving out beneath him.

And by the light sheen on the inside of your thigh, you’ve been doing this for hours. And it’s been turning you on.

He’s half-chub, only three seconds in. Considering a quick nut here in the office, all over this blasted fucking paperwork, but he refrains and just makes it to his truck without being spotted with tented jeans. He’s palming himself at every red light for some kind of relief.

But only you can give him the kind he needs.

He makes it home in record fucking time, calling your name throughout the house as he makes his way to the bedroom. All he gets in return are soft noises and soft calls of his name.

He’s tripping over himself, undressing as he makes it through the house and to the master bedroom.

The way he finds you nearly brings him to his knees.

Legs tied to the bed by your ankles, keeping your legs open wide. Your strap erect on your mound, nice and inviting for him. Eyes already blissed out like you’ve been touching yourself for hours.

“C’mon, pup,” you mutter softly, tapping your thigh. “Hop up onto me,” you jerk your head towards the strap. “Use me, baby. I can tell how much you want it.” His tip is angry and leaking by the time he crawls into bed.

He expects smooth-sailing, but he expects wrong. He makes an offhand comment about the lack of prep, and you nod. Taking this as the opportunity to grab his head, and work the strap down his throat.

“We’ll just fuckin’ use you, then. Since you want to complain. Can’t ever be fuckin’ grateful for anythin’, hm?” He whimpers, his Captain persona shattering into pieces by the second. “Always,” you punctuate every word by thrusting into his throat, “gotta,” thrust, “be,” thrust, “sayin’ somethin,” you groan, lifting his head off.

He’s drooling all over his face, his eyes are blown wide and his length flops strangely against his stomach, slinging pre as it does so.

“Good. Finally fuckin’ shut you up. Now, get on.” You grit out, and he nods. A nonverbal shell of himself after having his throat used. He adjusts himself to sit over the strap, sinking down slowly.

He whimpers at every stretch, which earns him a hearty eyeroll.

“Complainin’ at the stretch like you ain’t a bitch for it. Work a little harder than that,” you slap his thigh and he nods, gripping at whatever his hands can find as he tries to cope with the burn of the opening. He eventually hits the hilt, yelping softly and dipping his head forward.

You wipe his face aggressively, scoffing at his mess as he drools all over your soft skin.

“Fuckin’ mess.” You reach into the bed, pulling out the underwear he discarded sometime throughout the night a few nights ago. Disregarding the nastiness of it, you ball it up and shove it in his mouth. “Gotta fuckin’ put a muzzle on you, pup.”

He eventually finds an insecure rhythm, clearly not secure in the idea that he’s doing what he is. You dig your nails into his skin, frustrated.

“Off.” You grit out, and he whimpers before nodding. Like a kicked dog. He’s off, stretched open and cold. You undo your restraints, him letting you manhandle him into doggy. He’s gasping, begging incoherently for forgiveness as you bury yourself with one brutal thrust.

“Luv,” he tries to speak up, muffled by the cotton fabric, and you spank him. He gasps, and takes that as his sign to shut the hell up. He’s more needy as he gets closer, you notice. Bucks his hips backwards and trying to relieve friction in his leaking tip.

But it’s to no avail. You bring him to that sweet edge, only to pull out with a swift thrust. Leaving him confused, with tears brimming on his waterline.

“Poor fuckin’ baby. But that’s what happens. When you act all shy and innocent,” you speak as you grab a handful of his hair, “when you know I know you better. Greedy fuckin’ whore any other time,” he’s trying to explain himself, but you keep belittling him.

And he finishes anyway.

Hot, dripping and all over the bedsheets as you stare down at him — your face unimpressed.

“Really, pup? Can’t even say a fuckin’ thing to you, can I?” You scoff, ripping the underwear from his mouth and getting out of bed. He’s scrambling to grab at you but you snap.

“Go shower. Fuckin’ nasty.” You grit out, slipping out of the strap and putting it away. You grumble about changing the sheets as he trudges to the bathroom.

He is sure he will show you who you belong to. Who really should be running these things. But with shaky legs and watery eyes, he just wordlessly takes a shower and retires to bed.

A/N: This is nasty. Freak. Fuckin’. Nasty. But I hope you enjoyed ;3

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 20th April ✨

Had such a busy week in the best way. So nice to see friends and listen to good audio drama!

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (187) I loveeeed the introduction of house break-in to the long list of hallowoods horror tropes. I had forgotten Diggory’s plan so the threat felt VERY real. Something about Valerie reaching for a bat made my heart hurt. I don’t think this is the first episode to have Valerie and Mrs Wicker both feature heavily and does it set of my mother issues?? Yes! I love how this show explores motherhood and associated imperfections. Forever hoping Val and KA will do the right thing. We’ll see… 

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (43) !!!! Jealous Traveller is one of my favourite Traveller moods!! As someone who struggled a lot with jealousy in my youth, it is SO fun to experience this fictional ridiculousness as some kind of elder who’s done The Work. I also loooove the symbiotic BIG lad the other recording was about. Sweet, big creatures are when sci-fi is at its best and this is no different!! 

💍 @forgedbondspod (14) I don’t trust Zeus (obviously) and I think he’s more manipulative than he lets on. Hopefully this new deal works out for Hera!! 

🔎 @224bbaker (19) NOW THEN. First of all, I want to say a huge congrats to the co-creators on their wedding! Being married is so much fun, I wish you nothing but health and happiness!! 

I listened to this episode twice this week because I adore it so much and I’m just going to have to list my favourite points so bear with me (it is a long list): 

I love how the team manage to do physical comedy in an audio format. It is truly unparalleled!! Hampton shouting ‘branch!’ So we can imagine a funny run-duck-run situation. Hampton’s voice doing a glissando as the only indicator that this tiny man has been lifted from the floor in a hug. 

I actually wanted to cry when I realised that the reason they were going to crack the case was because each of the trio held an important clue. They’ve spent so much time apart this season, and I’m a soppy sod who loves it when the gang is back together. 

The fucking focket. (God, I hate even typing it)

Um, Archie Cartwright riding a stallion but like . . .  the horse!! My god. And he blew up the Café! What a man! 

I can’t even express how PERFECT that H+W scene is. My GOD.

I said before that Tom Crowley is possibly my fave Watson ever and I stand by it. All that emotion, all that trauma, all that love, always simmering away and just-restrained. It’s perfect to me. Literally perfect. 

And, congratulations to the happy couple 🤭 The way they laugh together - love is real, you guys!! It’s in this podcast!!!!

LOTTIE IS WATSON’S WIFE !!!!!!!!! YES!!!! AMAZING!!!!!! I pulled the biggest shock/shit-eating grin at that reveal. LOVE THIS FOR US. Love this for Madge, specifically. More Beth Eyre in S3 pls pls pls and thank you!!! 

I love Hampton getting his chance to speak and I loved the perfect last use of ‘you thick knob’ this season. Anyway, thank you 224B team for another WONDERFUL season. You’ve kept me laughing through an objectively rough winter and I can’t thank you enough for that!! 

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image is a plate of stuffed grape leaves, zucchini, tomatoes, and lamb chops next to a bowl of yoghurt, seen from the top; second image is a close-up on the grape leaves and stuffed zucchini, seen from the side. End ID]

كوسا محشي مع ورق العنب / Kusa muhashshi m'a waraq al-'anub (Stuffed zucchini with grape leaves)

"كُوسَا" ("kūsā"), meaning "zucchini" or "courgette," is from the Persian "کوسه" ("kūse"), meaning "shark" or "beardless man"; it is so called because of its smooth skin. "مُحَشّي" ("muḥashshi" or "maḥshshi") means "stuffed"; مَعَ ("ma'a") is "with"; "وَرَق" means "leaf" (or "paper"); and "عِنَب" (Levantine pronunciation: "'ineb") is "grape." (Grape leaves are also sometimes called "وَرَق الدوالي," "waraq ad-dūwāli," in Palestine). Thus: stuffed zucchini with grape leaves! Stuffed grape leaves themselves date back to Medieval times, and are popular amongst various regions throughout what was previously the Ottoman Empire; however, each cuisine has slight variations in how they are cooked, and what they are called.

To prepare Palestinian duwali, one stuffs grape leaves with one of two types of filling: a meat one, using rice, ground lamb, and a variety of aromatic spices; or a vegetarian one, including rice, herbs, tomatoes, and peppers. A large pot is then prepared, sometimes lined at the bottom with meat—usually rack of lamb, but sometimes chicken, or whatever else is to hand. The meat is topped with sliced tomatoes; sometimes, with hollowed baby zucchini or eggplant ("بَاذِنْجَان"; Levantine pronunciation: "bātinjān") stuffed with the same filling; and, finally, with the grape leaves. The whole is simmered in an aromatic broth before the finished dish is tipped out of the pot into a large platter. It is usually served with plain yoghurt, which plays beautifully against the mild sweetness of the zucchini, the slightly sour grape leaves, and the savory, tender spiced rice filling.

This dish is usually made in large batches, with the women of the family sitting in a group around the kitchen table rolling tiny grape leaves. It was traditionally made in the spring or summer, when zucchini and grape leaves were in season—but it is now often made as one of the centerpieces of a Christmas meal, with frozen grape leaves that are thawed in hot water.

Christmas (Arabic: عِيد الْمِيلَاد‎, "ʕīd al-mīlād," "feast of the Nativity," or "mīlād," "Nativity" for short) is a Christian festival and feast day commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ. The largest meal of the Christmas season is usually eaten on Christmas Eve, which is celebrated on the 24th of December (in the Gregorian Calendar) by Palestinian Catholics. Large families travel across Palestine to come together for a dinner featuring bread, several vegetable salads, meat dishes (such as stuffed lamb or chicken), grape leaves, topped flatbreads and other savory pastries, and an assortment of cookies. Chocolates are often given to children.

Christmas festivities are observed in Palestine during Advent ("مَجِيء المَسِيح," "madji' al-masīḥ": "the coming of Christ") and Christmastide, and at different times by different sects of Christians. One of the most common destinations for Christian tourists is the ancient city of Bethlehem (بَيْت لَحْم, "bayt laḥm," lit. "house of meat"; related to the Aramaic בֵּית לַחְמָא "house of bread"); pilgrims flock from around the world, and from other locations in Palestine, to attend church services and festivities and to visit holy sites. The Church of the Nativity (كَنِيسَة المَهْد, "kanīsa al-mahd"), so called because it is built on the place where Jesus was believed to have been born, is a particularly popular destination.

Bethlehem also has an ancient history as a home to many of Palestine's grape orchards; after the widespread destruction caused by the Crusades, some of the only vineyards in the area were in Bethlehem. Christians in Bethlehem have tended these grapes since Medieval times; today, farmers and companies in Bethlehem (such as Cremisan) make wine from several ancient varieties.

Despite hosting one of Christianity's most important sacred sites, Bethlehem's population of Christians has been continually shrinking for the past century. Arab Christians comprised an estimated 84% of the population in 1922, but by the end of the British Mandate years (1948) this number had dropped to 75%. By 1998, Christians made up a minority, at 33% of the population, and by 2007 this had dropped again to 28%. This dramatic decrease is a microcosm of the situation in Palestine overall, where the Christian population dropped from an estimated 20% in 1948, to just 2% in 2007, to less than 1% in 2017. Statistics from the Gaza Strip look similar. Bethlehem, however, remained a significant part of Palestine's Christian enclave: nearly half (49.4%) of all the Christians in Palestine in 2017 lived there.

As of 2004, an estimated 56% of all people with Palestinian Christian ancestry were living outside of Palestine. The trend shows no signs of slowing down: a 2020 survey found that a much higher proportion of Christians than Muslims wished to leave Palestine. Respondents cited dire economic circumstances, the dangers of military and settler violence, and religious intolerance, including job discrimination and difficulty having church marriages legally recognized.

Bethlehem is nearly completely surrounded by Israeli settlements, which hem residents in and threaten to cut off connection to other Palestinian territories. Israel has used its military codes, as well as its control of private companies, to annex nearly 2,000 acres of land in Bethlehem's immediate surroundings since 2004. Residents of Bethlehem's villages are subject to violent assaults by West Bank settlers, as well as destruction of property (such as uprootings of crops).

The economy within Bethlehem is also threatened by Israeli occupation. Income that could previously be made through tourism has dropped significantly due to settler violence, and to Israeli control of all borders and crossings into and out of occupied Palestine. In 2013, Israeli travel companies used this latter advantage to provide various services to 1.16 million pilgrims to Bethlehem's Church of the Nativity alone, starving Palestinian companies and tour guides out and leaving many in Bethlehem unemployed. Tourism to various holy sites injects billions of U.S. dollars per year into Israel's economy. Israeli winemakers, who had previously sourced grapes from Palestinian farmers in Bethlehem, have also started cutting Palestinians out, turning to growing grapes themselves on expropriated land.

The Palestinian Authority has stated an intent to try to keep Christians in the West Bank by promoting Christmas festivities. In 2022, a Nativity scene and Christmas tree were publicly displayed in مَيْدَان المَهْد ("maydān al-mahd"; Manger Square) in Bethlehem: the Catholic Church in Bethlehem lights the tree for Advent, beginning four Sundays before Christmas. A Christmas parade, with brightly lit floats carrying Christmas trees, people dressed as angels and Santa Clauses, and Nativity scenes with live actors, took place again for the first time after having been interrupted due to the Coronavirus pandemic, and was broadly attended by Muslims and Christians.

Another parade marched through streets near the Church of the Nativity for Christmas Eve in 2021: musicians beat drums, played bagpipes, and waved Palestinian flags while onlookers ululated and cheered. Bethlehem's Catholics attend a قُدّاس مُنْتَصَف اللَيْل (quddās muntaṣaf al-layl; Midnight Mass) service in St. Catherine's Church, with prayer, carol-singing, and the burning of incense; another service is held in the Church of the Nativity on January 6, where Christmas falls on the Orthodox calendar.

During the first and second اِنْتِفَاضَات‎ ("intifāḍāt"; singular اِنْتِفَاضَة "intifāḍa," "uprising" or "rebellion"), the tree in Bethlehem was no longer lit due to widespread mourning—Masses continued, but not the public festivities. Instead, private celebrations would take place within the home. Some families began buying artificial Christmas trees rather than real ones, since they were easier to tuck away from windows where they would not be seen from the outside. Even after the lights returned, Israeli military border walls, checkpoints, and curfews hampered Christmas celebrations for many: Christians from Gaza need permits from the Israeli military to take pilgrimages to, or visit family in, Bethlehem and other places in the West Bank, and the majority of those requested are not granted. كنيسة المِيلَاد الإِنْجِيلِيّة اللوثرية ("kanīsa al-mīlād al-ʔinjīliyya al-lūthri"; Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church) referenced the ongoing genocide in their Nativity scene, in which a baby Jesus wrapped in a Palestinian كُوفِيَّة (kūfiyya) lies amidst a pile of rubble.

Mayor Hana Haniyeh expressed that the local economy's "crash" was "nothing" compared to "what's happening to our people and Gaza." In 2021, the Catholic community in the Gaza Strip comprised 133 people, or 0.0056% of the population (out of 1,017 Christians of all denominations; 0.043% of the population). The sole Catholic parish in Gaza, overseen by the كَنِيسَة العَائِلَة المُقَدَّسَة ("kanīsa al-'āʔila al-muqaddasa," Holy Family Church), faced the destruction and partial destruction of several buildings by Israeli airstrike in 2014, and again in 2021.

During the 2023 genocide, parish buildings including the church, monastery, school, orphanage, and مَرْكَز تُومَا الأكُوينِي ("markaz tūmā al-ʔkoni"; Thomas Aquinas Center) have sheltered hundreds of Christians and Muslims. On the 16th of December, 2023, and amidst heavy bombing of the surrounding area, Israeli soldiers, claiming that the parish hid a missile launcher, opened fire on anyone leaving the church, killing two women.

Help Palestinian Christians evacuate Gaza

Support traditional woodworking and glass-blowing in Bethlehem

Try Cremisan Palestinian wine

Equipment

Large, thick-bottomed stockpot or Dutch oven

Vegetable corer (مأورة "maʔwara"), or thin teaspoon measure

Ingredients

For the dish:

About 300g grape leaves

2kg baby zucchini (كوسا صغير)

2 large beefsteak tomatoes

Zucchini should be about 1" in diameter and 5" in length. If you don't have access to baby zucchini, use the smallest you can find. I halved my zucchini lengthwise to get the correct size.

If you happen to have a grape vine, harvest grape leaves early in the spring for this recipe, and freeze them for use throughout the year. Otherwise, you should be able to find jarred grapeleaves in a halal grocery store. You will want the smallest, earliest-harvested (say, March-May) grape leaves that you can find.

For the filling:

600g (3 cups) Egyptian white medium-grain rice

300g (about 1 1/2 cups) ground beef substitute (to replace minced lamb)

1/4 cup good olive oil

5 tsp allspice, or Palestinian 7-spice / mixed spice (بهار مشكل)

1 Tbsp turmeric (optional)

1 1/2 tsp black pepper

1 tsp cinnamon (optional)

Large pinch ground cardamom, from 2-3 green cardamom pods (optional)

Salt, 1/4 tsp, or to taste

Spices used in this dish may be as minimal as salt and black pepper. Allspice or 7-spice are almost always included. Cinnamon and turmeric are the next most common additions; occasionally, cardamom is added. I have gone for a maximalist, aromatic approach here, because the taste of other ingredients (e.g. zucchini) is quite mild.

You will want a medium-grain white rice for this dish—the rice should become extremely tender without being fluffy or sticky. Egyptian medium-grain rice can be found at a halal grocery store from a brand such as Baraka. If you can't locate any, another kind of medium-grain white rice will do.

To cook:

Vegan lamb chops, or other meat substitute of your choosing

Juice of 1 lemon, or 1/4 tsp citric acid (if using jarred grape leaves that don't include citric acid)

1 Tbsp tomato paste

1/4 cup good olive oil

Salt, black pepper, and 7-spice

Vegetarian chicken bouillon cube or stock concentrate

Water to cover

Chicken stock from making another dish is sometimes used in place of water here; or else a chicken boullion or Maggi cube may be added. You could also use a vegetarian beef stock concentrate, or a bit of soy sauce, to mimic the stock that would result from lamb being simmered at the bottom of the pot.

Instructions:

Prep work:

1. Prepare the rice. Place a strainer in a closely-fitting bowl and add the rice into the strainer. Fill the bowl with cool water and rub the rice between your hands to remove excess starch. Lift the strainer out of the water to strain the rice, and pour the starchy water out. Repeat this process 3-4 more times, until the water comes away mostly clear.

(Starchy water from the first 2 or 3 washings can be saved and used to thicken soups and stews. If you're not sure of the cleanliness of your rice—i.e. if it came in a container that was not airtight—only use water from the second washing onwards.)

2. Return rice to bowl and pour cool water to cover. Soak for an hour.

3. Prepare the zucchini. Cut the tips off of both sides of the zucchini, only taking off as much as you need to. (If your zucchini are over 6" / 15 cm or so long, cut them in half widthwise).

4. Starting from the tip (or, if it's the 'bottom' half of the zucchini, the cut end), hollow out each squash with a vegetable corer until a ring of flesh about 1/8" (1/3 cm) wide remains around the edges. If you don't have a vegetable corer, use a small teaspoon: make a small divot in the center of the zucchini and then deepen it, constantly rotating the zucchini as you push the spoon in, to hollow the zucchini.

(Save the zucchini flesh to use in a soup or stew later!)

5. Soak the zucchini. Place zucchini in a large bowl of salted water and let soak while you prepare the grape leaves.

6. Prepare the grape leaves. If using grape leaves from a jar, pull out a group (they will probably be rolled together) and lay them flat on a plate. Go through grape leaves to find leaves of appropriate size; anything too much larger than 4" in diameter should have its outer leaves shortened with a sharp knife; anything larger than 5 or so inches should be halved down the central vein, and then flled "sideways." Lay the grape leaves out in the bottom of a large bowl or tray.

7. Soak the grape leaves. Pour just-boiled water over the grape leaves and let sit 10-15 minutes.

8. Meanwhile, remove zucchini from soaking water and place on a wire rack, hollow-side-down, to drain while you make the filling.

To make the filling:

1. Drain the rice and shake the strainer to remove excess water. Combine all spice ingredients together by kneading well with your hands. I recommend toasting the spice for a minute or two in a small, dry skillet on medium-low hest, until fragrant.

To stuff the vegetables:

1. Stuff the zucchini. Once the zucchini are drained, use your figners to push filling down into the hollowed openins. Don't fill them up all the way, or the rice will come out as it expands; leave about 3/4" (2 cm) between the top of the filling and the edge of the zucchini (about the length of a finger up to the distal knuckle).

2. Remove grape leaves onto a wire rack to drain for 4-5 minutes. They will be easiest to roll if they are still slightly damp.

3. Stuff the grape leaves. Add a very small amount of filling (a bit more than 1/4 tsp and less than 1/2 tsp) in a horizontal line towards the bottom edge of a grape leaf.

The leaves will be rolled much like burritos: fold the bottom edge up once or twice to cover the filling, fold the sides in over that, and then roll away from you, folding the tip of the leaf inward as well if needed to avoid having any spikes sticking ourt.

Roll tightly enough that the leaves will not come undone with jostling, but loosely enough to give the rice some room to expand. I did this by leaving a tiny bit of space on each side of the filling as I folded the edes in. Leaves can be stuffed by laying them flat on the counter, or by holding them in your non-dominant hand.

Keep going until you run out of grape leaves. Keep any extra filling to stuff tomatoes, eggplant, etc.

At some point during this process, taste a bit of a grape leaf and determine if it is sour enough that you will not need lemon juice later in cooking.

To cook:

1. Coat the bottom of a large stockpot with a couple tablespoons olive oil. Slice a large tomato and arrange the slices on the bottom of the pot so that they do not overlap.

2. Add stuffed zucchini, either standing up (filling-side-up) or arranged horizontally in a single layer, depending on the size of your pot.

3. Top with stuffed grape leaves; just pour them in and give the pot a good shake, or arrange them in concentric circles.

4. Mix just-boiled water with spices, stock bouillon or concentrate, tomato paste, olive oil, and lemon juice (if using). Pour water into the pot until it comes up to the bottom of the stuffed grape leaves.

5. Choose a heavy plate that fits inside your pot with an inch or so to spare (to allow steam to escape) and weigh the grape leaves down.

6. Raise heat to return water to a boil. Lower heat to medium-low and keep at a low simmer for an hour, until zucchini is very tender, rice is fully cooked and a bit mushy, and there is almost no water in the pot. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly.

To serve:

1. Cover the top of the pot with a large, upside-down platter and turn over the whole to empty the contents of the pot into the platter. Lift the pot straight up.

2. Shake the platter slightly to encourage the stuffed vegetables to spread out. Remove any grape leaves that have burst or come unfolded, if you want to. Some blackening of the pieces that had come into direct contact with the bottom of the pot is not a problem.

3. Arrange seared lamb chop pieces among the stuffed vegetables.

Serve warm with lemon slices, yoghurt, pickles, and side salads.

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 39

“So the game goes, I say something I’ve never done, and if you have done it, you drink. If you haven’t done it, I drink. Then, we switch,” Beth explains, sitting across from Daryl with a cup in her hand. “You really don’t know this game?”

“I ain’t never needed a game to get lit before,” Daryl replies, the skin of his thumb caught between his teeth. 

“Wait, are we startin’?” Beth asks, her excitement clashing with his simmering reluctance.

“How do you know this game?” he mutters, his suspicion barely hidden.

“My friends played, I watched.” She brushes off his question and adds, “Okay, I’ll start.” She closes her eyes, pretending to think hard, but her first attempt is obvious. “I’ve never… shot a crossbow! So, now you drink.”

Daryl rubs his fingers together, staring at her with a deadpan expression. He wants to resist, but the rules seem simple enough. He reaches for his cup, bringing the strong liquid to his lips, feeling the familiar burn as he drinks. “Ain’t much of a game,” he mutters.

“That was a warm-up!” Beth insists. “You go.”

He grunts, hand returning to his mouth, teeth picking at the skin around his nails. His mind’s a mix of annoyance and hesitation. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.

“Just… say the first thing that pops in your head!” she presses, trying to keep the energy light.

“I’ve never been outta Georgia,” he finally says.

“Really?” Beth responds, intrigued. “Okay, good one.” She takes a sip, her curiosity palpable.

She continues quickly, eyes narrowing a bit as she thinks. “I’ve never been drunk and did somethin’ I regretted.”

Daryl stiffens, feeling the subtle dig. He knows she’s trying to pry, to make him crack open, even a little. His defenses flare up, and it’s not anger he feels—it’s shame. He lifts his glass and takes a swig, the bitter taste doing nothing to wash away the memories of all the bad decisions he’s made under the influence of liquor.

“I’ve done alotta things,” he says flatly, the words clipped.

“Your turn,” she prompts, eager to keep the rhythm going.

Daryl’s eyes shift as he thinks, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I’ve never been on vacation,” he says, voice low.

“What about campin’?” she asks, her tone lighter, almost playful.

“No, that’s just somethin’ we—” He pauses, the words catching in his throat. His gaze drops, shame bleeding into his expression until he looks up again after a heartbeat, “I had to learn. To hunt.”

Beth’s eyes soften. “Your dad teach you?” she asks, trying to be careful.

“Mhm,” he grunts, nodding, still watching for her reaction. 

Beth shifts awkwardly before coming up with her next attempt. “I’ve never been to jail. I mean—as a prisoner.”

His eyes narrow, the question striking a raw nerve. The old shame, buried deep but never forgotten, wells up inside him. He feels suddenly exposed, his past laid bare in front of her. 

“Is this what you think of me?” he asks quietly, voice tight with both defensiveness and hurt.

Beth’s eyes widen, realizing she’s crossed a line. “I didn’t mean anything serious,” she backpedals quickly. “I thought maybe the drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day.”

Daryl doesn’t let up, pointing to her with a rough gesture. “Drink up,” he demands, his hand back on his face, fingers covering his chin as if trying to shield himself from her scrutiny.

But Beth’s smile creeps back. “Wait! Prison guard, were you a prison guard before?” she guesses, her enthusiasm unintentionally prodding him further.

He takes his time answering, staring hard at her. “No,” he says at last, his voice low and flat.

“It’s your turn again,” she presses gently, trying to get back into the rhythm of the game.

But Daryl’s done. He pushes himself up abruptly, muttering, “Gotta take a piss,” as he stalks out of the cramped living room. It’s an excuse, and a thin one, but he needs distance. The game was never about fun to him—it was an interrogation, a slow peeling back of layers he’s spent the life he had now trying to forget.

He heads into the kitchen, releasing his fly, dropping his glass of leftover alcohol on the floor as it shatters on the ground. Her questions riled something in him—how different their lives have been, how far apart their worlds are. Beth grew up with family dinners and curfews; Daryl grew up with broken bottles and bruises, fighting just to exist. And then there’s Y/N, who grew up in the same kind of hell he did. She got it, never needed to ask these kinds of questions because she knew—she lived it. The shame from his past was never something he had to explain to her.

The glass shatters beneath Daryl’s boots, and Beth’s voice cuts through the chaos, urgent but hushed. “You have to be quiet.”

But Daryl’s fury is already boiling over, his body coiled tight with anger. “Can’t hear you! I’m takin’ a piss!” he shouts, voice harsh and ragged.

“Daryl, don’t talk so loud,” Beth hisses, her voice tense.

“What? You my chaperone now?” he barks back, his voice rough, his words laced with a bitterness that’s been festering inside him for far too long. He urinates against the kitchen wall, the anger a twisted kind of relief. When he’s done, he zips up, spinning to face Beth. “Oh, wait, it’s my turn, right?”

Beth’s face is a mix of frustration and something close to pity, but Daryl ignores it. He looks out the grimy window into the darkness of the woods, eyes distant, searching for something he’ll never find. “I’ve never, uhh…” he mutters, adjusting his belt as he steps into the room. “Never eaten frozen yogurt , never had a pet pony.��Never got nothin’ from Santa Claus .” His voice turns sharper, colder, as he shoves over a dusty vase that crashes to the floor, shattering in front of him. He steps closer to Beth, lip curling with disdain. “Never relied on anyone for protection before—hell, I don’t think I’ve ever relied on anyone for anything!”

“That’s not true—” Beth begins, her voice softening as she tries to reach him, “You and—”

“ Don’t ,” he snarls, his voice breaking, pointing a finger at her, his face twisted with barely-contained rage. “Don’t you dare.” It feels like a dam breaking now, and he keeps going, throwing words at her again and again:

“I’ve never sung out in front of a big group in public, like everything was fine,” he continues, his voice heavy with contempt, each word dripping with raw pain. “I sure as hell never cut my wrists lookin’ for attention.”

Beth’s eyes widen, her initial shock quickly turning to anger. She twists to face him fully, her back straightening, her expression hardened. But before she can speak, the banging against the door grows louder, a chorus of guttural growls now turned to snarling from the walker outside.

“Ah, sounds like our friend out there’s tryin’ to call all his buddies!” Daryl screams, his voice rising with a reckless, desperate edge. He kicks a chair across the kitchen, making as much noise as he can. “Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I’m gonna teach you, right now,” he snarls, grabbing Beth roughly by the arm. He kicks open the back door, dragging her out into the low evening light.

“Daryl, stop it! Daryl!” Beth squeals, panic and anger clear in her voice, but he pulls her forward, ignoring her protests.

The walker at the window turns toward them, drawn by the commotion. “Dumbass,” Daryl growls, leveling his crossbow at it. “Come here, dumbass.” He releases an arrow, pinning the walker to a nearby tree.

“You wanna shoot?” he demands, shoving the crossbow into Beth’s hands.

“I don’t—I don’t know how,” she stammers, her voice breaking.

“Oh, it’s easy,” Daryl says, positioning himself behind her, his chest pressing into her back. He forces the crossbow into her trembling arms, guiding her to aim. “Come here, right corner,” he mutters darkly, firing another arrow that lands with a dull thunk.

“Let’s practice later!” Beth insists, fists clenched as she tries to break free from his grip.

“Come on, it’s fun,” he grunts, voice harsh and almost manic.

“Just stop it! Daryl!” she cries, twisting away.

“Come here,” he repeats, his voice low and menacing, pulling her back toward the walker pinned to the tree. “Eight ball,” he snarls, releasing another arrow that thuds into its chest.

“Just kill it!” Beth yells, her voice thick with fear and frustration.

“Come here, Greene. Let’s pull these out,” he says releasing her, his tone almost taunting as he steps closer to the walker.

But Beth moves quicker, lunging forward and plunging her knife into the walker’s skull with a sharp, angry thrust.

“The hell you do that for? I was havin’ fun!” Daryl yells, his voice raw as he gets in her face, his breath coming fast and angry.

“No, you were bein’ a jackass!” Beth shouts back, her eyes blazing with tears. “If anyone found my dad—”

“Don’t,” he snarls, cutting her off sharply. “Not even remotely the same.” He’s close now, so close that his anger is palpable, radiating off him in waves.

“Killin’ them is not supposed to be fun ,” Beth spits, leaning in, unafraid now, her eyes fierce. 

“What do you want from me, girl?” he roars, his voice breaking with a mix of rage and grief. 

Beth cries in his face, “I want you to stop actin’ like none of this matters! Like nothin’ we went through matters! Like none of the people we lost meant anything!” her voice is harsh, cracking, as she bares her teeth at him, “It’s bullshit!”

“Is that what you think?” Daryl’s voice drops, his anger smoldering into something darker, more bitter. His eyes are cold, but his voice trembles slightly. 

“That’s what I know,” she snaps, voice faltering as she looks him up and down, “You haven’t even said her name , Daryl— just say it! Say you miss her! And that you miss the others! Rick, Michonne—”

“You don’t know nothin’,” he growls, shaking his head violently.

“I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl ,” she cries, her voice wavering with a mix of pain and frustration. “I’m not like her, Daryl! I’m not like Y/N! I’m not tough, but I’ve survived! But you don’t get it, ’cause I’m not like the two of you, or the others. Carol or Maggie… But I made it! And you don’t get to treat me like crap just because you’re afraid!” She waves her hands at him, her face wet with tears.

He steps closer, his face inches from hers, his breath ragged. “I ain’t afraid of nothin’.”

“I remember,” Beth says, her voice lower, shaking with tears, “When that little girl came outta the barn, after my mom. And the night you found Y/N in the field, seeing you in the morning on the highway with her covered in blood, the both of you. And now God forbid you ever let anybody else get too close.”

“Too close, huh? Bet you know all about that,” Daryl sneers, his finger jabbing at her accusingly. “Lost two boyfriends and can’t even shed a tear!” His voice is full of venom. “Your whole family’s gone and all you can do is just go out lookin’ for hooch like some dumb college bitch!”

“Screw you, you don’t get it!” she shouts.

“No, you don’t get it!” Daryl roars, his voice breaking. “Everyone we know is dead! ”

“You don’t know that!” she screams back, desperation in her voice.

“Might as well be, ’cause you ain’t never gonna see ‘em again!” he snaps, “Rick–” he stops short, her name almost coming off the tip of his tongue then, but he holds it back, the only morsel he can hang onto as his walls come crumbling down in this moment, “You ain’t never gonna see Maggie again!”

“Daryl, just stop!” she begs, reaching for him.

“No!” he twists away, the pain and guilt rushing up uncontrollably as his back faces her. After a heartbeat, his voice breaks as he says, his throat tight, “The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I… if I wouldn’t have stopped lookin’, maybe because I gave up. That’s on me!” 

“Daryl—”

“No!” he shouts again, shaking her off, his voice cracking, “And your dad …Maybe I coulda done somethin’...and her , god…” his voice wavers now, the sting in his eyes, his throat tight and throbbing, “She’s…she’s prob–probably already...already...dead,” the words barely make it out of his mouth, his throat so thick with grief.

But suddenly, Beth is on him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, hugging him with a fierce, desperate strength. It’s like she’s trying to hold together all the unraveling pieces of him as her arms wrap around him, fingers interlocked against his chest so he doesn’t push her off. But he doesn’t. Daryl’s chest heaves, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The dam finally breaks, and he sobs into the night air—quiet, breathless, and broken.

[jusst-you-race]

Britcedes + 7./46. for the kiss prompts?❤️

hi i'm so sorry it took me this long to get around to it!!! hope you enjoy <3 i had a lot of fun writing this one!!! from these prompts

a kiss to shut them up + a kiss out of jealousy

George actively focuses on relaxing his hand, worried slightly for the delicate glass of the champagne flute he’s currently holding. The woman talking to Lewis laughs again– no, giggles and puts her hand deliberately on his arm. Again. George takes a deep breath.

“George you’re basically glaring at this poor lady, chill out,” Alex says from beside him.

“Well if you hadn’t noticed, she’s flirting pretty blatantly with my boyfriend.”

Alex scoffs at him and George grimaces as he realises how that had sounded.

“I didn’t realise you were so possessive, Georgie.”

“You don’t know what it’s like at these events. Someone is always flirting with him, trying to get his attention. It’s like they just forget he is openly in a relationship.”

Alex hums sympathetically beside him. George flexes his fingers around his glass again. 

It doesn’t help that Lewis is so effortlessly charming. George knows his boyfriend is being nothing but polite to this lady but George has been on the receiving end of Lewis’ ‘polite’ many times and he doesn’t blame the woman for feeling like she might have a chance. George huffs.

“Oh my god, George. Stamp your foot too while you’re at it, why don’t you…”

He pointedly ignores Alex.

The woman very unsubtly fiddles with the neckline of her dress, trying to draw Lewis’ attention, and George rolls his eyes. She’s clearly barely listening to whatever Lewis is saying to her — which based on the spark in Lewis’ eyes is probably something to do with the environment — and George takes another deep breath to cool the simmer of spite low in his stomach. 

“She’s not even listening to what he’s saying.” George says it under his breath, but Alex hears him anyway.

“Oh and of course you would listen to everything he says.”

“I would, actually.” George tries his hardest not to sound petulant. He’s failing pretty miserably. “He’s my boyfriend and I like listening to what he has to say.”

Before Alex can give him any more grief the woman puts her hand on Lewis’ arm again, this time lingering for just a second longer than necessary, and George snaps.

“Hold my champagne.”

Alex just laughs at him as he marches across the room.

Lewis is mid sentence by the time George reaches him, but George simply does not care. He drapes himself over Lewis' side and kisses him on the mouth, intentionally a little too indecently. He pulls back slowly, enjoying the slightly dazed look in Lewis' eyes as he brings his arm up to wrap around George’s lower back instinctively. 

“Hello, gorgeous. What was that for?” Lewis is giving him a dopey grin and George all but preens under the attention.

“Missed you,” he murmurs before, in an exaggerated display, he turns to the woman as if he’s just realised she’s there. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Was I interrupting?”

A sick sense of satisfaction curls in George’s gut at the look of shock and embarrassment on her face. Lewis gives George a squeeze before he too turns back to her.

“I was just talking about biofuels with… Oh goddess this is embarrassing of me, I’ve forgotten your name! I’m so sorry.”

George cannot help his shark-like grin. The woman smiles flatly.

“It’s Beth.”

George extends a hand.

“Beth, lovely to meet you.”

She shakes it reluctantly, then looks somewhere over his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it was lovely talking, but I think I see my friend in need of rescuing over there. Nice meeting you both.” And with that, Beth disappears into the crowd. 

Smug, George turns to look at Lewis, who’s watching him knowingly.

“You don’t have to be so mean, George.” There’s a smile tugging at the corner of Lewis’ lip as he says it though, so George knows he isn’t really in trouble. He shrugs coquettishly. 

“She was out of line. You’re mine.”

Lewis grins and tugs him in closer with the arm around his waist.

“You’re hot when you’re jealous.”

He pulls George into a kiss, and George finally feels content. 

[pollka1]

hiya!! I'm new to the ud fandom and have been desperate for stories about jess x emily. I heard you like angst, so I was hoping you'd write something heartwrenching about my two girls 🙏

Omg of course I can! I'm not used to writing about Jess and Emily, but I hope you like it!!

Now we got problems, and I don't think we can solve them

Summary - Emily finds out about Mike and Jess and decides to confront Jess.

Characters - Emily Davis, Jess Riley

Warnings - None

Character speech is colour coded:

Purple - Emily

Pink - Jess

The weeks that had passed since the disappearance of Hannah and Beth had been slow for Emily. The loss of Hannah and Beth was tragic, but it didn't keep her awake at night. The thing that kept her awake at night was the gut feeling she had.

Mike had broken up with her shortly after the events of that night. It wasn’t a mutual decision. No, Mike was angry because Emily refused to sleep with him. She wasn’t about to just give in to his demands. It felt like he was punishing her for not being what he wanted, and that made the whole situation even worse. But as the days dragged on, Emily realized something: Mike didn’t care. He didn’t care about her feelings, and honestly, she didn’t care about his either.

Jess was a different story. She had always been bitchy, but it was worse now. Jess always had this air of superiority, like she was better than everyone else, especially Emily. Jess had been close to Hannah, and after that night, her attitude had become even more pointed. It was as though she had been the one to hold all the answers, while the rest of them were just scrambling to catch up. Emily couldn’t stand it.

Everything had gone sideways that night, and yet, no one seemed to feel guilty about it. The whole prank was supposed to be harmless, but no one took responsibility for how it spiraled out of control. Emily didn't feel an ounce of guilt. She wasn’t sorry. It was just a prank. People needed to move on and stop acting like everything was her fault.

So, when Emily's friend—someone who had always been around but never too involved—texted her a screenshot of Jess' Instagram, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. She opened the photo, but the moment her eyes landed on the picture, her stomach dropped.

It was Jess, wrapped in Mike's arms, their faces too close for comfort. They were smiling, their eyes sparkling with something that made Emily's blood boil. The photo was casual, almost innocent-looking, but it hit her like a ton of bricks. They were together. Jess and Mike had been hiding it. The two of them had been dating, and they didn’t have the decency to tell Emily.

Her fingers shook with fury as she scrolled through Jess’s Instagram feed. There were more pictures of them together. More photos of Mike and Jess being all lovey-dovey. How long had this been going on? Had it started right after the breakup? Or had it started before? Emily didn’t know, but the fact that they had kept it a secret from her made her feel like a fool.

...

Emily went over to Jess, her fists clenched, her heart racing. The anger that had simmered since she’d discovered the truth was threatening to overflow. She didn’t care about the reason why Jess had kept this from her. She didn’t care if Jess was trying to spare her feelings. What mattered was that she had been lied to, and that didn’t sit well with Emily.

Jess was sitting on a bench, scrolling through her phone. She looked up in surprise when Emily approached her, but there was no apology, no guilt in her eyes.

“Emily?” Jess said, her tone dripping with faux sweetness. “What’s up?”

Emily didn’t bother with pleasantries. She held up her phone, the image of Jess and Mike in her face. “What the hell is this?” she spat.

Jess froze for a moment, her smile faltering. But then, she shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh, you saw that.”

“You’ve been hiding this from me?” Emily snapped. “What, you thought I wouldn’t find out? You and Mike, behind my back?”

Jess rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “God, Em. You really need to calm down. It’s not like we owe you an explanation.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything,” Emily replied, her voice sharp. “But I’d think you’d at least have the decency to tell me. Instead, you hide it. You hide it like you’re ashamed.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Jess said, her voice turning bitter. “I just didn’t feel the need to broadcast it to everyone. Not everything needs to be a spectacle, Em.”

Emily clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. “You’ve been seeing Mike behind my back, Jess. You’ve been sneaking around, acting like everything’s fine. You couldn’t even be honest with me.”

Jess stood up, her posture straightening. She looked down at Emily with a smug expression. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep him. I don’t know what you want me to say. He dumped you because you were too uptight. You wouldn’t sleep with him, and he got over it. I’m just the one who was there for him.”

Emily’s eyes burned with fury. “And you think that makes you better than me?” she hissed. “You think you’re the one who’s right here? Mike dumped me, Jess. Not the other way around. He didn’t give a shit about me or my feelings. He just wanted a hookup, and you gave it to him.”

Jess let out a bitter laugh. “Oh please. You think Mike owes you something? He’s done with you, Em. Get over it.”

The words cut deeper than Emily had anticipated. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to feel like this. But Jess’ smug attitude, her coldness, made her blood boil.

“I don’t need your sympathy, Jess,” Emily shot back, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You think you’re some kind of hero, that you’re the better one here? You’re just as pathetic as Mike.”

Jess didn’t flinch. If anything, she seemed amused. “Whatever, I don't give a crap what you think. But don’t act like you’re some saint. You were just as bad as the rest of us, and you’re still acting like the world owes you something.”

Emily didn’t know what to say to that. Jess had a point—she wasn’t perfect, far from it. But the thought of Mike and Jess together, after everything that had happened, left her feeling sick.

She turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m done here,” she muttered.

Jess didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. Emily knew that Jess didn’t care. And that made it hurt even more.

As Emily walked away from Jess, she felt hollow inside. The confrontation had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was angry, yes, but it was more than that. It was a sense of betrayal, of being discarded so easily. And it hurt.

She had walked away from Mike because she wasn’t going to give in to his demands. She had refused to sleep with him, and for that, he had tossed her aside. But that didn’t make what Jess had done any easier to accept. Jess and Mike had moved on, and Emily had been left in the dust.

I hope this is what you wanted 😭😭

[colorfulrunawaytragedy]

Yellowstone - Ghosts of the Past

First time writing a fanfiction so be gentle when I do decide to post it. I have no smut warnings because ya girl can't write good enough for it. (unless I somehow become brave 👀) But there will be talks of domestic abuse, trauma, triggers, hysterectomies, past relationships, homelessness, etc. Here's a summary to my Jamie Dutton x Reader

Years ago, Jamie Dutton shared a deep, secret connection with a girl he affectionately called "Peaches." She was his safe haven, the one person outside the Dutton chaos who truly understood him. Their love was pure and steadfast—until Jamie's fateful decision tore his sister Beth's life apart, leaving Peaches unable to reconcile his actions. A bitter argument ended their relationship, and she disappeared from his world, leaving Jamie with nothing but regret.

Years later, Peaches reemerges at a county fair, selling baked goods. Carter, who knows her as the woman who once offered him kindness and hope during one of the darkest chapters of his life, spots her first. Their reunion is heartfelt, though Carter has no idea that Jamie also shares a history with her. Meanwhile, Jamie is blindsided when he crosses paths with Peaches and realizes that she and Carter know each other—a revelation that complicates an already tangled web of emotions.

As secrets unravel and past connections collide, Jamie must face the consequences of his choices while navigating the rekindling of his relationship with Peaches. With Carter caught in the middle, the Dutton family drama simmering, and Peaches’ own scars still healing, they must all decide if they can build a future while reconciling their fractured pasts.

Themes - Unexpected intersections of past and present - Redemption and confronting past mistakes - Healing through connection - Family bonds and the ripple effect of decisions

This story explores how hidden histories and unlikely bonds intertwine, testing the resilience of love and the power of forgiveness.