#but I ain’t got my book I’m sorry

[stinkybreath]

What if I started Yet Another web serial

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (5) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, obx special guest appearances, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Will tag people later, for now I must sleep :) Enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

In which Rafe loosens his leash, but actions come with consequences.

Rafe told you to get dressed and to wait at the front of the house. Truthfully, you liked it better when Rafe picked out your outfits. That way, you knew exactly what looked good on you and that you wouldn’t make some kind of fashion faux pas. You decided on a pink fitted top, a matching skirt, and an adorable pair of brown boots Rafe bought you for Christmas. You completed your look with a bow at the top of your hair and an array of colorful bracelets you put on each arm. 

You spent a while watching men in dark clothes walk the perimeter of the yard and through the forest on the sides of the property. At first, you were quite scared to see them, but Rafe explained that they worked for him. This led you to ask even more questions. Weren’t they cold out there? We should offer them some snacks? Could I make them cookies? Rafe shut down your curiosity quickly, emphasizing that you were not to say a word to any of them. 

When the door to the enclosed porch opened, you expected to see Rafe. You closed your drawing book and turned your head to greet him. Instead, Rafe’s friend Barry greeted you. You’d heard them going back and forth all morning, usually, their conversations were tense, but you assumed they must’ve come to some type of agreement. At the sight of you, he smiled, flashing his gold tooth. 

“Country Club’s little princess,” He sang, “How are you, baby?”

You smiled nervously, still not super used to being around others. It had been a few months now since Rafe brought you to Tannyhill and almost all of your social interaction had been with Rafe and Lana. 

“I’m good, I . . . how are you?”

He walked in front of you, his hands behind his back as he looked you over, “Oh I’m just peachy. Whatchu got there?” 

You glanced back towards the door, wondering if Rafe was far behind him. Looking back down at your lap, you said, “I was just drawing a little bit. Rafe told me to wait here–”

“Drawing, huh? You an artist?” Your eyes tilted back up to him. 

“Not an artist,” You said quickly, “I just like to . . .”

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” He asked, and you sensed sincerity in his tone, “You know, I used to draw a lot when I was in school. Nothing serious, but I couldn’t help it; my mind would just wander, and then my paper would have a bunch of doodles on it.”

He kneeled down in front of you, and you hesitated for a moment before you opened the book. You showed him your page of doodles. You drew a lot of what you saw, including doodles of Rafe, and things you saw around Tannyhill, “That’s Lana, ain’t it?” You nodded, “Impressive. Most people ain’t good at drawing faces. Not you though.”

“Thank you,” You said, “You don’t draw anymore?”

He shook his head, “Not very often. I should.”

You agreed, “You should. Sometimes, Rafe will draw with me. Well, mainly we’ll color together. He likes it when there’s already a picture, so he doesn’t have to come up with it himself.”

“He’s pretty bad at it, anyways, ain’t he?” Unexpectedly, a giggle left your lips, and you raised your book to cover the bottom of your face. 

“I should go look for him–” You made a move to escape, but Barry placed both his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively trapping you. 

Barry hadn’t touched you, but you felt you might get in trouble just for laughing at his joke, “You don’t like my company or something?” You shook your head immediately. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant . . .” 

“You’re sweet; I can see why he likes you,” Barry held his eyes on you and you felt the skin on your face heat up with embarrassment, “You know, you ever get tired of him, or he pisses you off – which he will, then you can call me. We can run away together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a phone.”

Barry smirked at that, “Ask anyone on this island who Barry is, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

Running away with Barry was the last thing you wanted to do. Rafe had his bad days but you hadn’t considered trying to leave. Barry also barely knew you but you decided to think positively. Afterall, Rafe trusted Barry. You assumed his intentions must be good, “Okay,” You agreed, “When you come back next, maybe you can show me some of your drawings.”

“You want to see them. Really?”

“Yes,” You said, “It’s only fair.”

Barry nodded, “You make a good point. I gotta come back soon and try more of your desserts. That cake you made … I ain’t tasted nothing better.”

“You have to,” You rushed out excitedly, “Rafe and Lana say everything I make is great, I can’t tell if they’re honest.”

“I’m as honest as they come, sweetheart,” You grinned at that, “A good friend is honest.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I mean, only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Don’t tell Rafe though–”

Your conversation was interrupted when the poor door opened, and Rafe appeared, “Don’t tell Rafe what?” His gaze was sharp, and luckily, it was mostly directed at Barry. You watched as Barry stood and stepped back from you. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking about about Kildare. You’re going to let me help show her around, right?”

Rafe’s brooding look turned to amusement, “She’s not gonna step foot on your side of the island. Thanks for the offer though.” 

There was an awkward silence, and you felt some tension building until Barry finally said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Bambi,” You waved as he turned on his heel, “Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Barry walked out the front door before he held out his hand, summoning you. You hurried from your chair, moving in closer before you grabbed ahold of his hand. It was his cue to you that he would be leading you somewhere, and you were expected to follow. 

“He touch you?” Rafe asked, leading you out the same door. You watched as Barry pulled around the horseshoe driveway in his sports car. He walked you to his large truck, opening the passenger door, “Bambi.”

“Uh …no,” You stared. 

Suddenly, you were the furthest from Tannyhill’s front door than you’d ever been. 

“Good, get in, Bambi.”

“I’m leaving . . . you’re leaving with me in the car? Your car? Right now? Today?” 

“Yeah,” He said, unsure of himself, “Get in; I’m already starting to change my mind.”

You jumped in excitement, “Really? Where are we going?” Rafe helped you as you started to climb in. He leaned over you, fastening your seatbelt for you, “You aren’t taking me back, right?”

“No, sweet girl,” Rafe assured you, “As far as where we’re going, it’s a surprise.” 

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you settled into your seat. As you pulled past the gates at the end of the long driveway and onto the road, you couldn’t help but feel like all your faith in Rafe had paid off. 

“Who’s that, Daddy?” You asked, noticing a black car that had also pulled out of Tannyhill and was following closely behind. 

“No one, Bambi,” He brushed your question off, “So, uh, what were you two talking about? You and Barry?”

Your eyes were focused on the huge trees that hung over the road, beautifully dripping green moss from it’s branches. Between the trees, you saw huge mansions with big gates and long drives just like Tannyhill. 

“Drawing,” You said briefly, “He said he would show me some of his work.”

“He’s full of shit.”

You turned to Rafe who was gripping the wheel with one hand, “Daddy … I don’t like it when you curse.”

“Bambi, I–” He held his tongue, sighing before he reached over to place his other hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry, sometimes work makes me lose focus. What I mean is that Barry is my friend but … he likes to mess with me, you know? So he might say something to you knowing that it would bother me.”

“He seemed like he meant it,” You said, “Would it bother you if we were friends?”

“Guys and girls can’t really be friends,” Rafe explained, “Especially not with little girls like you, okay?”

“But why–”

“Because I’m telling you right now. I appreciate that you are kind to Barry but he wouldn’t be a good friend to you. If I’m going to protect you, and as your Daddy, I should have a say in who your friends are.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. It didn’t make much sense to you why men and women couldn’t be friends. Why would Barry offer to be your friend if it wasn’t appropriate? You supposed that you never had any male friends before, and most men you’d been around wanted a similar thing from you, “Maybe you’re right, Daddy.”

You drove over bridges with water on both sides of the road and through more neighborhoods with huge houses. Fifteen minutes into your drive, you arrived at an area with a grocery store and lots of stores that you assumed were also for shopping. 

Rafe pulled his truck in front of one of the storefronts. You unbuckled your seatbelt, sitting up further in your seat so you could read the sign, “Fig . . uuure eight …ball …it.”

“Ballet,” Rafe corrected you, “Figure eight Ballet Company.”

Confusion spread over your features, “I looked into it; they have adult classes for beginners. I thought it might be something fun for you to do once a week.”

“Me?” You pointed to your chest, “Dance classes?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Rafe rushed out, “It’s good exercise, and you can also do it at home. And it’s a chance to meet friends, friends that are girls, preferably.” 

“Oh,” When you looked at Rafe, it seemed like he was desperately trying to read your expression, “I’d be so nervous. And I wouldn’t be good at it.”

“I think people just do it for fun and to learn something new. And I wouldn’t just leave; I would walk you in and pick you up. Not today; I just wanted to take you by and see what you thought.”

“... It could be really fun …”

“And you’d make quite the adorable ballerina.”

“Maybe I could try one class . . . and if I liked it, you would take me every week?”

“Every week, as long as you continue to be a good girl,” Your nervousness started to melt away into excitement the longer you thought about it, “And while we’re out, I thought we could do some shopping. My research has informed me you’re going to need shoes, tights, a leotard, and a skirt.”

You practically leaped over the center console to hug him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!”

Rafe pulled you in close, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Rafe didn’t need to get his hands dirty anymore; he could hire people to protect him or kill for him. As he settled into his new life with you, he started to miss some of the adventures he experienced in his early 20s and late teens. There were no more brawls or treasures to steal. He hadn’t realized he needed an outlet for the negative energy that seemed to boil up inside of him sometimes. Now, what he knew is that he needed to keep that side of him as far away from you as possible. 

Killing JJ would’ve satisfied that part of him that has been begging to come out of him for years. He would’ve felt a rush like no other, power and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. He hadn’t brought himself to do it yet, teetering on that line between sanity and insanity. The Pogue was always a good competitor, and Rafe wasn’t surprised that he was still fighting. Rafe liked that about JJ. 

Still, Rafe wanted to see him break, and he was patient enough to wait for it. 

“What would you do to see her again?” Rafe asked as he kneeled over JJ’s bruised and battered body. 

The pogue coughed, and blood-spattered on the boat cabin’s floor. 

The silent treatment followed, but Rafe was used to talking to himself, “I know she’s not over you, but how long do you think she’ll wait before she moves on? Six months? A year? I mean, she’s a wild one; I’m sure she won’t want to stick around this place for much longer.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” JJ’s favorite words. 

“Maybe you just don’t love her like I thought you did,” Rafe taunted, “I mean if you did, you’d be groveling at my feet, right?”

JJ’s eyes pinched tight as Rafe’s words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The silent treatment followed again, and Rafe considered what his next steps might be. Removing limbs? That could be fun for a while, but if he hadn’t surrendered at this point, what would make him crack? 

“Fine,” Rafe looked down at his bloody knuckles, “I won’t bother you anymore today, but I do have something I want you to contemplate in your hours of silence. Consider the idea that I let you go, and you see Kie again instead of bleeding out here and your body being chopped into pieces. I want you to think, and I mean really think, about what you might do to make that happen. And don’t think of it as sacrificing your morals or making a deal with the devil … think of it as securing your future, okay?”

Rafe tapped his hand against JJ’s sore cheek before he stood and left. He heard no quippy comeback from the Pogue. At least Rafe had successfully beat that out of him. 

Rafe’s eyes snapped open and was awakened from his sleep when he felt a soft finger poking at his cheek, “Wha…” Groggily, he reached to turn on his bedside lamp and found you, dressed in a onesie that made you look like a brown bear,  standing beside his bed, a sniffling mess, “Hey, w-what’s wrong?”

Immediately, Rafe reached out to grab you, and you proceeded to climb onto his large bed, “I-I had a scary dream,” You hiccuped, “Y-You sent me away a-and I was alone again and Master he was so mad at me b-because I-I didn’t make you h-happy–”

Rafe shushed you, pulling you into him, “It wasn’t real, okay? Look, you’re here with me right now.” 

“It felt real,” You whimpered, and Rafe’s lips pulled into a thin line of frustration. He wanted you happy, and he wanted to give you much more than you ever had, and it pained him that you thought he might hurt you in that way. 

“I . . . I wouldn’t ever do that, Bambi,” He brushed tears from your cheeks and caressed your face, “I’d fu- … I’d rather die than let you go. And I’d kill anyone that tried to take you from me. Anyone, okay?”

“You’ve hurt people before,” It wasn’t a question; Rafe could see it was an observation she’d made. 

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“You saved me.”

Rafe nodded, “That’s right, sweet girl. I saved you. I’ve hurt people, yes,  but I-I’m not a cruel person. I wouldn’t do something like that. And you make me so happy.”

Rafe watched as you blinked away your tears and tried to stop yourself from frowning, “What if I don’t always make you happy?”

“You make me happy by breathing,” Rafe tried to assure you, “You’re smart and beautiful, and you deserve nice things. I never had anyone in my life that made me feel like I deserved anything. I never even felt like I deserved to be loved. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“I love you, Rafe,” You were trying to reassure him now, and Rafe was grateful. He loved those words on your lips, and he felt in his heart that you meant them, “And . . . I like being loved by you. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafe felt you press your forehead against his before you pressed your lips softly against his, “Thank you . . . for everything. Uhm, did I scare you?”

“No, no,” Rafe’s mind was mostly on the thought of your lips, “I like being woken up by cute bears.”

Rafe pulled you in again for a kiss. Softly, your lips moved together, and Rafe explored your mouth with his tongue, slowly deepening the kiss. Rafe was already growing hard, and he cursed in his mind, frustrated by how easily you got him going. 

“You still sore from earlier?” He asked. 

“A little bit,” You spoke shyly, “You were kinda rough…”

Rafe thought back to you, bent over the arm of the couch, taking you deep, but that just made his cock ache even more. 

“But I’ve trained that little hole well, haven’t I?” Rafe asked, pressing the length protruding from his boxers, against your stomach, “You can take more, okay?”

You nodded, although Rafe’s question was rhetorical. Rafe didn’t like you sad, but he certainly like seeing your teary face. Your pajamas were the cherry on top, including the convenient little flap on the back that allowed for easy access, “Turn around on your side, little girl,” Rafe commanded gruffly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Daddy…” You whined as you did exactly as Rafe ordered. 

“Right here, not going anywhere,” Rafe pushed his crotch into your ass, bringing his lips close to your ear. He ground against you as he carefully pulled down the front zipper of your onesie. He needed to feel your nipples between his fingers, your breasts in his large hands. He also needed your pussy dripping for him, knowing he couldn’t fuck you when you were already sore without any lubrication. He reached into your onesie, finding your mound easily, and began to rub circles over your sensitive area, “Daddy needs you so badly.”

You squirmed, but you were tightly pressed against him. He teased you, moving back and forth from your clit to your breasts. He’d rub your breast until you were aching below, and when you started to feel close, he’d go back to teasing your nipples. 

He got you to a point where you were so stimulated that you were already orgasming with three slow and deep strokes inside of you. You were convulsing around him, unable to contain your moans, but Rafe wrapped his hand around your mouth and continued to pump inside of you. It certainly wasn’t as rough as earlier, but Rafe could feel you squeezing him tighter, “You feel how happy you make me, Bambi?” Rafe grunted, “Daddy wouldn’t want to cum in any other pussy than yours — Jesus.”

Rafe finished inside of you. He hadn’t lost all of his energy, though, moving his hands back to your clit, as he filled you up. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and you were cumming again. 

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You spoke breathlessly. 

Now that your Daddy was allowing you out of the house, there were new rules for you to learn. Of course, you weren’t allowed to talk to strangers unless they were girls you met at dance class. You had to go by Y/N, Y/L/N, and Rafe had given you an ID to carry around when you couldn’t be together. If anyone asked who you were to Rafe, you could just say that you were his girlfriend and you’d moved in with him a few months ago. That wasn’t far from the truth, so you didn’t imagine that would feel like lying. 

A few days after he showed you the ballet company, he let you tag along to run errands with him. For most of the time you sat in the car, watching him pump gas, stop at different businesses, and shake hands with men who seemed amused by every word Rafe said. You noticed people tended to stare at him, especially as the two of you walked through the grocery store together. 

“Did people always stare at you like this?”

“They used to stare at my Dad; he used to be the King of this place,” You nodded, twirling the ribbon in your hair as Rafe pushed the cart along, “I don’t think people expected me to come back.”

“Well, since you’re Dad is gone. I guess you’re the King now,” You flashed him a smile. 

“Maybe so,” Rafe conceded. 

“Oooh, look!” You pointed at something in the refrigerated section that caught your eye, and your feet were already moving towards it. As soon as you pulled open the glass door, you felt Rafe’s strong hands around your bicep, stopping you. You whipped back to see eyes narrowed at you and his serious face.

“You can’t just run away from me like that,” He snapped, “Jesus . . . don’t do that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked, “I just saw . . . they have so many types of iced coffee. They have peppermint, and caramel and mocha-”

“Coffee isn’t good for you.”

“You let me eat sweets all the time, and those aren’t good for me,” The words came out before you could stop them. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Rafe offered you the world, but at the same time, he controlled so many aspects of it. 

You’d pissed him off; you could immediately see it in his face. His hand still on your arm, Rafe leaned closer to you, “You’re going to stand right next to the cart for the rest of the time we’re in here, and you’re not going to say another word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

You let the door go just as Rafe let your arm go. You crossed your arms, knowing you had no other choice than to keep your mouth closed. Rafe didn’t have much to say after that, and you let him brood on his own. 

You were standing near the fresh produce; Rafe was picking out the vegetables that Lana had written on the grocery list when you saw a woman approaching your cart. She had caramel skin and pretty curls that were tamed by a messy bun on top of her head. She was holding a small shopping basket, but she didn’t seem to have any care for any of the items inside as she stomped closer to the two of you, red in her eyes. 

“Rafe Cameron!” She didn’t seem even to perceive you as she stared Rafe down. You watched his reaction closely and how his contempt quickly switched from you to her. 

“Kie, long time no see,” He didn’t express much emotion other than through his eyes, making him appear stoic. 

The woman, Kie, didn’t hide any of her emotions, “I know what you did.”

“What’s that?” Rafe tilted his head. 

“You know what exactly I’m talking about,” She pointed a finger at him, tears in her eyes, “Your day is coming–”

He proceeded to talk over her, “Hey, let your Mom and pops know Cameron Development is still interested in working with them. I have the perfect property for their next restaurant. I mean, an absolutely gorgeous spot.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” You covered your mouth in shock. 

“It was nice catching up with you too, Kie,” He winked as the woman walked away. 

You watched as Rafe’s hands squeezed into a fist and then how tightly they wrapped around the cart’s handle. 

“Daddy-”

“Let’s go, Bambi.”

“Rafe-”

“I didn’t want to hear it before; I definitely don’t want to hear your mouth now. Let’s go.” 

You bit your tongue and fell back into step with him. You supposed a king couldn't be loved by all his subjects.

PART 6

Please reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think/predictions for the future!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

You had just sat down on the couch, sunk into the deepness of the cushions and gotten yourself comfortably when you heard heavy steps on your front porch. Your ears pricked up, listening, and sure enough there was a knock on the door. Your head dropped back and your eyes closed. You let out a slightly exasperated sigh before setting your paperback aside and climbing to your feet.

The door opened on a sheepish-looking Daryl Dixon.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, taking in the red welt on the side of his face and then the way he was cradling his hand with the other. Another sigh escaped you. "Come in," you said stepping back to let him enter. "You know, I was going to have a nice, quiet night of reading but I guess I'll be patching up your broken hand instead."

Daryl hurriedly toed his boots off on the rug in the entryway and trailed after you, nervously licking his lips. "Yeah, uhh—'m sorry. I know it's late."

You were putting some ice from the freezer into a plastic bag and turned to give him an appraising look. "Are yoooou going to tell me what happened or do I need to start asking questions?"

"Uhh—does it matter?"

You shrugged. "I guess not... But I'm extremely curious about what could have possibly happened that caused you to punch something or someone when we're supposed to be on our best behavior here..."

Daryl gulped. "It was—just that Aiden guy yappin', ya know?" Daryl froze as you took his hand and examined the swelling. He winced a little as your fingers pressed into his hand. You were making sure nothing was displaced.

"What was he yapping about?"

Daryl's face flushed with heat as he remembered it. "Ah—nothin'... just—talkin' shit," he said, hoping you'd drop it.

You gave him a skeptical look and a half-smile he found charming as hell. "Obviously it wasn't nothing if you got into a fist fight over it."

"Mmm," Daryl hummed, accepting the proffered ice pack. He laid it over his knuckles. He gulped again as you turned your attention to his face, looking the welt on his jaw over with concern. "Dun worry 'bout that. Guy barely got me. Couldn't throw a punch harder than Judith can righ' now," he drawled.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he asked, meeting your eyes.

You laughed. "You interrupted my quiet night in. The least you could do would be to tell me what all the drama was. You're dodging my questions. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Daryl's face flushed again. "Uhh—"

"Why are you being so squirrely?" you asked, your curiosity only increasing. You thought perhaps you'd better let it drop... He really seemed unwilling to tell you.

He ducked his head, staring down toward the ice pack over his bruised and swollen knuckles. "Just—stay away from that guy, alrigh?"

That hit you square between the eyes and you suddenly understood. "Oh." You paused and took a breath and Daryl hazarded a glance up at you, worry clear on his face. "What did he—?"

"I didn't like how he was talkin' about ya. And I set him straight. But I wouldn't put it past him to—I dunno. Just‚ he ain't worth the time of day, alrigh?"

You nodded, much more subdued now that you understood that the fight had been, somehow, over you. "Well... come and sit down. You should keep that ice on for 20 minutes. I didn't feel anything displaced in your hand.... I'm—I'm sorry you got hurt over—over something to do with me."

Daryl looked puzzled. "Whoa—hey. It ain't yer fault. Ya dun have anythin' to apologize for. Ya weren't even there. Besides," he said, fidgeting a little nervously, "it was worth it. And I'd do it again. I will do it again if he didn't learn his damn lesson..."

You smiled fondly at him, a little stunned by his protectiveness. "Thanks. I suppose I can still have that quiet evening now. Interested in joining me?"

Daryl nodded. "Ya got any books I might like?"

You grinned at him. "Mountain man adventures or pirates?" you asked him.

He laughed gruffly. "Surprise me." Prompt: "I was going to have a nice, quiet night of reading but I guess I'll be patching up your broken hand instead."

[estrellami-1]

Growing Young

The BIGGEST of happy birthdays to my spouse @gloomysoup !!! You are an absolute DELIGHT to know and I’m so sorry this is late �� I’m in love with you and we are going to run away and be very happy together. ❤️

Eddie wants it put on the record that he didn’t run this time. Well, he did, but it was only to lead the bats away from Dustin, and he cycled more than ran, anyways.

Not that the semantics matter when Dustin’s kneeling beside him and sounds are getting echoey.

Dustin yells for Steve, and Eddie wants to tell him it’s no use, Steve can’t hear, he’s too far away, except here he comes like an action hero, sliding in like it’s third fucking base. Damn Wayne and his sports shows, Eddie’s not supposed to know any of that.

“Hey,” Steve says, clear as a bell in Eddie’s addled brain. “Thought I told you not to be a hero.” He looks off, tells someone to get Dustin out, now, before returning his attention back to Eddie. “You’re gonna make it, y’hear me?”

“Dunno,” Eddie says, gasps for breath. Coughs up blood, if the new wet feeling in his mouth is any indication. “‘M not- not cold, anymore, y’know that’s worse, ‘s okay ‘f I don’t-”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses. “Actually, no, keep talking, stay awake. This is gonna hurt like a bitch but I’ve gotta get you outta here. If you’re gonna throw up, please don’t throw up on me.”

Eddie’s brain is lagging full seconds behind, so by the time Steve’s words process, he’s already being lifted.

He doesn’t throw up, but it’s a close thing. “You’re gonna be okay,” Steve tells him again.

He wakes up from the weirdest dream of his fucking life to his alarm and realizes three things in quick succession.

One: that’s not his alarm. It’s a heart monitor.

Two: he’s in a hospital.

Three: it was not, in fact, a dream.

As he finishes categorizing these things, Steve walks in, doing a double-take when he realizes Eddie’s awake. “Oh, holy shit,” he whispers, freezing for a second before darting back out.

He’s back a minute later with Wayne in tow.

Eddie would like it stricken from the record that he cried like a baby upon seeing Wayne. The record can keep the fact that Wayne cried upon seeing him, though.

“Uncle Wayne,” he whispers. He can’t move his arms enough to wipe his face, so he’s just laying there with tears running down his cheeks, undoubtedly making a terrible face. But Wayne’s an ugly crier, too, so they’re just sitting there, crying, making ugly faces at each other.

They eventually calm down and realize at the same time that Steve’s standing awkwardly by the door. “Sorry,” he says, like any of this is somehow his fault. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Wayne pulls himself together, gestures at a seat across from him. “You ain’t interruptin’, son. You saved my boy’s life. Far as I’m concerned, you got any right you want t’be here right now.”

Steve ducks his head. “I didn’t really- I mean, he was just… passed out, the doctors did the saving.”

“Sure,” Eddie says quietly, “but you got me outta there.” He glances over at the seat, a smile flickering on his face. “C’mon.”

“If you’re sure.” Steve matches his volume, takes the chair. Moves a book onto his lap.

Eddie notices, glances at it. “What’s that?”

Steve colors. “Oh, uh…” he holds it up for Eddie to see. The Lord of the Rings. “Dustin and I have been taking turns reading, just in case you could hear while you were under.”

Eddie pouts. “No, but I wish I could’ve.”

Wayne bursts out laughing. “Well damn, Ed, he ain’t killed your puppy. Fact, I’d bed he’d read t’you right now iffen y’asked him.” He stands, grabs Eddie’s hand and squeezes. It’s the one part of him that doesn’t hurt, but it still makes tears threaten to fall. “I’ve gotta get to work. Y’gonna be alright, son?”

Eddie smiles, does his best to squeeze Wayne’s fingers back. “I’ll be fine, Pops.”

Wayne leaves, and Steve opens the book, pausing halfway through trying to find his page. “D’you want me to start at the beginning?”

Eddie smiles at him. “‘S alright. I’ve read it so many times, you can start from wherever. I won’t be lost.”

Steve nods, flips through a few more pages. Fingers a corner, works his lip between his teeth. “I, uh… Dustin does voices. I’m… not good at that. And I’m probably gonna say half the names wrong.”

“‘S alright,” Eddie promises him. “‘Sides, it’s a made-up book with a made-up language. Maybe you’re saying it right and everyone else is saying it wrong.”

Steve snorts. “I doubt the author is saying it wrong,” he retorts, but settles back in his chair and begins to read.

A couple pages later, Steve stumbles over a few words in a row and shuts the book, grimacing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, man,” he murmurs. “I’d read more if I could, but I need to be able to drive home.”

Eddie frowns. “Reading’s hard for you?”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s more of a self-deprecating thing than anything else. “I’ve had… four? Five? Concussions. I wasn’t the best reader before that. It’s definitely gotten worse. Too much and it’ll trigger a migraine.”

Eddie’s frown deepens. “Is there- something you could take? A prescription? Or- or some kind of help?”

Steve colors. “There’s something,” he admits. “I just… don’t like wearing them.”

Eddie’s frown turns curious. “Wearing them?”

Steve nods. Won’t look at Eddie. “Glasses. I just… don’t like the way they look on me.”

“Have you-” he’s interrupted by a cough, and Steve rushes to hand him water. “Thanks,” he rasps out after a couple sips, then clears his throat. “Can you get different frames?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I did. These are the ones I hated the least.”

“Could I see them?” Eddie requests. “If you- if you’re here tomorrow. Would you bring them?”

Steve looks at him for a long second. “Sure,” he finally says. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And I’ll bring them.”

Eddie smiles at him. Steve smiles back, and leaves.

He arrives the next day while Dustin’s there. He leans in the doorway, crossing his arms and smiling at the scene. “Hey, dipshit,” he calls.

“Hey, Steve,” Dustin says back. “Anyways, so Mike was really stuck, right? So he decided-”

“Hey, dipshit,” Steve says again, jerking his head back. “Your ma’s out front.”

“Oh!” Dustin jumps up, gathering his things. “Okay, Eddie, don’t let me forget!” He calls over his shoulder, pointing at Eddie, almost running into the door before Steve nudges him out of the way.

He’s chuckling when he sinks into the chair Dustin had just vacated. “That kid.”

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he.”

“He really is.” He shifts uncomfortably for a second, pulls the book onto his lap, and sighs. “Just… I know I look stupid, okay? Just please don’t laugh.”

“Never,” Eddie swears immediately.

Steve pulls the glasses out of his pocket and puts them on, blinking at Eddie through the lenses as his eyes adjust. “Well?”

“They look good,” Eddie tells him immediately.

“Don’t-” Steve takes a breath, looks away. “We… we’ve been flirting. Right?”

Eddie’s heart rabbits in his chest. “I can stop.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, just… just tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” Eddie murmurs. “Sweetheart, the truth is if you’d been my teacher, wearing those glasses, I would’ve graduated the first time with fucking honors.”

Steve’s cheeks are pink. “You mean it?”

“Every word,” Eddie swears. “Why don’t you think so? Did someone say something? Was it one of the kids? Because I will kick them out of Hellfire until the end of the campaign-”

“No- Eddie,” Steve laughs. “No, it wasn’t the kids. It wasn’t anyone. I just… don’t think I look good.”

“Well you do,” Eddie returns, mildly affronted. “Don’t look good,” he grumbles, halfway under his breath. “Honestly.” It gets a laugh out of Steve, which is what he was going for. “Can I ask you for something that’s probably way out of line?”

Steve blinks. “You… can ask me, sure. Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”

“Guess so,” Eddie chuckles. It turns into a cough, which makes Steve get up, but Eddie waves him down. “Can I ask you to wear your glasses whenever you need to? And tell me if anyone says something, because again, I will kick the kids out of Hellfire until the end of the campaign. Just say the word, and they’re out.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m doing it because I want to. Because you’re worth it.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees quietly.

“Good,” Eddie agrees nonsensically.

With that, Steve opens the book and begins to read. He gets through quite a few more pages than the day before, but does eventually stop, rubbing his brows. “Sorry,” he says, “Guess I still can’t read much even with the glasses on.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie murmurs. “Do you like reading? Or are you reading for my sake?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “Mostly for your sake,” he admits. “I don’t like reading as much as you do, or as much as Dustin does. But I want to know what you like. I want to understand what you like. And I feel like reading is the best way to do that.”

“Makes sense,” Eddie replies, “but you know you don’t have to, right? I’d like you even if you never picked up another book again.”

Steve grins, a small, shy thing. “You like me?” He teases.

“I do,” Eddie murmurs. “I thought – I thought we-”

“No,” Steve interrupts, “we are. We do. Or I do, I don’t know–”

“I do, too,” Eddie promises. “Just… Maybe when I’m out of the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “of course. Do you have any news on when you get out?”

“Not yet, but hopefully I’ll know soon. I just don’t know what I’m going to do when I get out… I can’t even lift my arms to feed myself. And if I get out soon, before I’ve healed enough…”

“I get it,” Steve swears. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees softly. “Okay.”

“I don’t think I can read anymore today,” Steve says, “but I can stay for a bit if you want company.”

“Please,” Eddie agrees, far too quickly, except it makes Steve blush and smile, and Eddie would make himself the fool a hundred times over to make Steve smile.

They decide to watch TV. At some point their hands end up intertwined, and Eddie wants to stay awake, he really does, but he’s still pretty broken, and he finds himself waking up when Steve pulls away. “Sorry,” Steve whispers, “I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Eddie wakes himself up more, makes some kind of groaning noise that he’s pretty sure he’s heard Wayne make before. “‘S okay,” he mumbles, twitching his fingers to pull Steve closer. “Wan’ed’a be ‘wake.”

“It’s okay,” Steve swears. “You need the rest.”

Eddie hums, lets his eyes slip shut. Lets Steve pull his fingers from Eddie’s limp grasp. “Wan’ you t’wear the glasses,” he murmurs. He hears Steve pause as he gathers his things.

“I will,” Steve whispers. “Promise. I’ve got them on right now.”

“Good,” Eddie mumbles, and falls asleep before Steve’s even out of the room.

The doctor comes in a few days later to talk to Eddie while Steve’s there, once again reading to him. “My apologies,” the doctor says. “I’ve got some information for Mr. Munson, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out for a moment.”

“He can stay,” Eddie says before Steve can move. Steve blinks at him, and Eddie nods, inclining his chin down to the chair Steve’s practically levitating in. Steve shifts his weight, sits back down.

“Very well,” the doctor says. “I’ve got good news for you, Mr. Munson, as long as you’ve got someone to look after you, you’ll be free to go as soon as your guardian arrives.” He shuffles a few papers around. “We’ve got some painkillers for you, as well as a round of antibiotics.” He offers the papers to Eddie. Steve takes them, puts them on the chair beside him. “Your wraps will need to be changed once a day and stay dry for another two weeks, so sponge baths only. After that, your wraps can come off while you shower, then be put back on as soon as your skin is dry. If you have any questions once you’ve been released, there’s a number on the paper you can call at any time. If you pop a stitch, come back in. If you have any adverse reactions to the medication, come back in. If you pass out or throw up repeatedly, come back in. If your wounds look inflamed or infected, come back in. Understand?”

Eddie nods, biting his lip. “My guardian- my uncle. He works. I-”

“He’ll have someone to look after him,” Steve interrupts, looking up at the doctor.

The doctor looks between them, then nods. “Very well then. A nurse will come in and make sure you’re okay to be released. As soon as your uncle is here, you’re free to go.” He smiles. “As much as you’ve been a model patient, I hope to never see you again.”

Eddie snorts. “You too, Doc.” He looks over at Steve as the doctor leaves, raises a brow. “I got someone to look after me?”

Steve colors, looks down. “The, uh. The trailer was…”

Eddie winces. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “And the government’s dragging their feet about getting you guys another place. I offered up my place to Wayne. He’s been staying there since… well, since we got back topside. There’s more than enough room for the three of us.”

Eddie grins. “And this has nothing to do with you liking me, right?”

“I mean,” Steve shrugs, “I wouldn’t say nothing.”

They spend a long minute looking at each other before Steve looks back down at the open book in his lap.

Wayne arrives not too much later, just after the nurse finishes her duties. He grins at his nephew, finally freed from all the wires and tubes. “Y’ready to go?”

“Please,” Eddie agrees, looking at Steve. “I know my legs are generally fine, but just in case-”

Steve moves around the bed to stand next to him. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and Eddie believes him.

They get Eddie out of the hospital, into Wayne’s truck, and back to Steve’s house. “Welcome home,” Wayne deadpans, but Eddie can hear the slightest note of pride in Wayne’s gruff voice. He likes living here.

Eddie thinks he will, too.

“Your bedroom’s upstairs,” Steve murmurs. “The only bedroom down here is my parents’.”

“I’ll take the upstairs bedroom,” Eddie agrees, looking up at the aforementioned stairs. “Might need some help, though.”

“I can help,” Steve agrees. “Let’s see how much you can do by yourself first, though.”

The bannister is just about elbow height, so Eddie’s able to grab it and use it for support. He gets a third of the way up before he’s gritting his teeth, then halfway up before he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“You did great,” Steve tells him, then picks him up bridal-style.

Eddie squawks, causing Wayne to laugh at him. He raises his hand just enough to flip Wayne off, then focuses on not making a fool of himself while Steve carries him upstairs.

“First room’s mine,” Steve tells him, nodding towards his door as he carefully sets Eddie down. “Wayne’s is two doors down, and yours will be here, between us.” He points towards a room, and Eddie walks towards it.

Walking on flat ground is a lot easier than walking up stairs, but he’s still pretty injured, so he’s glad for the chance to sit down on his bed when he gets into his room.

“Now,” Steve says, “way I see it, you’ve got three options.”

“Oh? And what would those be?”

“Sleep, eat, or bathe.” He gives Eddie a tiny grin. “I know you’ll need help with the last one. If you’d rather your uncle do it, I understand, but I’m willing.”

Eddie glances over at the en-suite, bites his lip, and shakes his head. “I think… if you’re willing. I think I’d prefer you.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t completely serious.” He holds his hands out, offering Eddie help getting up. He takes it and leverages himself up, and together they walk into the bathroom.

“Sponge bath,” Steve murmurs, recalling the doctor’s words. “There should be a washcloth in here somewhere.” He gestures for Eddie to sit on the toilet for the time being, rooting around in the cabinets until he comes up with a wash cloth, shouting a triumphant, “Aha!” And waving it around like a flag.

“Man,” Eddie says, “I can’t believe anyone ever thought you were cool.”

“Fuck you, I am cool.”

“You’re a complete nerd, Stevie.”

Steve flips him off, tests the water temperature, nods. “Need help undressing?”

Eddie grimaces. “Probably.”

“That’s alright. Anything you can or want to do yourself?”

Eddie focuses on his jeans first. They unbutton and unzip just fine, and Eddie can get them most of the way over his hips, but he eventually gives up with a sigh. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

“I volunteered,” Steve reminds him, helping him out of his pants.

He quickly undresses Eddie the rest of the way and alternates between two cloths, one wet and soapy and one dry, so he doesn’t get the bandages wet. He zones out halfway through, glancing over at the sink multiple times.

The last time he does, Eddie gently taps him on the forehead. “I’d say penny for your thoughts, but I don’t think I have a penny.”

Steve chuckles, grins up at Eddie. “Then it’s a good think I’ll give them to you for free.” His smile turns smaller, more genuine. “I was wondering if there was a way to get a chair in here so we could wash your hair.”

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs, because it had been far too long since he’d last washed his hair. “That would be really nice.”

“Then I’ll find a way to do it,” Steve swears. “But I think the chair will work. Once you’re dressed again, I’ll go get it.”

He finishes bathing Eddie, helps him into clean clothes, and guides him back to the toilet. “Wait here,” he tells him, and runs out of the room in search of a chair.

He finds one that’s roughly the right height and brings it back, draping a towel over the edge of the sink for cushion, gesturing Eddie over and holding his hair up as he gets situated.

He starts washing, and it’s different in the sink, with a faucet that doesn’t move and is so close to the basin, but he makes do; cups warm-almost-hot water in his hands, lets it dribble over Eddie’s scalp.

He massages the shampoo in and Eddie hums. He rakes his fingers through the ends of Eddie’s hair, lathered with conditioner, and Eddie makes a breathless little sound.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat and he stills. “Good or bad sound?”

Another hum. “Good. Sorry. Jus’… relaxed.”

“‘S alright,” Steve murmurs back. “Just making sure.”

“‘S good,” Eddie promises, voice barely a whisper now.

“I’m glad,” Steve whispers back, and finishes washing his hair in silence.

Eddie’s tired after, eyes slipping shut even as he sits up in the chair and Steve dries his hair, so Steve takes mercy on him when his hair is half dry and leads him to bed. “Take a nap,” he whispers. “I’ll clean up and be out of your hair. I’ll be in my room with the door open if you need anything.”

Eddie hums, eyes slipping shut again as he grabs at Steve’s hand. “Stay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Just let me throw the towels in the hamper.”

Eddie hums, hand dropping back down to the bed and eyes slitting open as he watches Steve walk to the bathroom.

He’s back less than a minute later, smiling at Eddie as he tries to stay awake. “Go to sleep,” he laughs, sliding in between the sheets next to Eddie. “I’m here. I’m not leaving. Now sleep.”

Eddie lets his eyes close as he moves his hand under the sheets, searching for Steve’s. When he finds it, he grabs and squeezes it, just once, and falls asleep.

Steve doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but there’s not much keeping him awake. He awakens later to Eddie trying to leverage himself out of bed.

He sits up with a snort, blinking at Eddie. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie tosses an apologetic look over his shoulder. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to wake you. I just needed to use the bathroom.”

Steve hums, stands, walks over to Eddie and helps him up. “I don’t mind you waking me. I’d actually prefer you did, instead of popping your stitches.” He grins, pokes at a bit of Eddie’s side that he knows is unharmed.

Eddie grins back, wide and happy. “I’ve gotta learn. ‘S not like this arrangement is gonna continue. You’ve got your bed and I’ve got mine.”

“It could,” Steve considers. “What if you’re trying to get up in the middle of the night and can’t? What if you have a nightmare and thrash around and pop a stitch?”

“What if you barely sleep because you’re not used to another person in bed with you?”

“What if,” Steve whispers, “that nap was the most restful sleep I’ve gotten in a while?”

“Really?”

Steve looks down, realizes he’s still holding Eddie’s hands. He lets go, takes a step back. Doesn’t look up; he knows his face is burning. “Really.” He flicks his chin over to the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll help you downstairs after, it’s almost dinner time.”

Eddie doesn’t move for a minute. Steve chances a glance up at him, and his breath catches at the naked affection staring back at him.

It’s only after Steve looks up at him that Eddie moves, stumbling over to the bathroom and quickly finishing up. Steve stands still, staring at where the sheets are messed up. Two spots. He’s not used to that in his bed. Even when he’d have girls over, none of them wanted to stay the night. Even Nancy left.

But here he is, in a room in his house that isn’t actually his, with a guy, and they’ve been flirting with each other, and-

He thinks he needs to call Robin.

He thinks, as Eddie emerges from the bathroom and smiles at him, he knows exactly what he’s feeling, and doesn’t need to call Robin after all.

They make their way downstairs and Steve settles on a simple pasta dinner. Eddie somehow wiggles his way up onto the counter, and sits beside the stovetop, kicking his leg out and occasionally hitting Steve’s thigh. Steve always glances at him when he does, and it becomes a game, and soon enough they’re both giggling as Steve dumps the pasta into the boiling water.

The water splashes, and Eddie hisses, jerking his arm away and rubbing at it. Steve looks up, worried. “Did it get you?”

Eddie waves him off, nudging his thigh with his foot again. “‘M alright. Not even a mark, ‘s just hot.”

“Still,” Steve says, and steps closer. “Can I see?”

Eddie stares at him for a minute. Offers him his arm.

He’s right. There’s no mark apart from an old scar, years old and years healed. Steve’s hand comes up, and his thumb strokes the scar, then down a little, towards his elbow. “Well?” Eddie asks teasingly. “What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Steve stares at him flatly, playing into it. “You’ll live,” he says, completely deadpan, grinning when Eddie giggles. He bumps Eddie’s knee with his hip, moves away to collect plates and silverware. “Make yourself useful and stir the pasta, would you?”

Eddie sticks his tongue out but picks up the spoon and does as he’s asked.

And so it goes. They’re mostly left unattended, as Wayne is usually at work, but sometimes he’ll sit on the couch with Steve and they’ll watch football or baseball, much to the chagrin of Eddie, who takes every opportunity possible to bemoan the existence of sports for stealing Steve’s attention away from him.

Steve doesn’t tell him that even when his eyes are on the TV, his mind is on Eddie. He’s well aware he falls too fast, too hard.

He helps Eddie up and down the stairs. He gives him sponge baths and washes his hair. Eventually his wounds begin to heal, and he’s able to get up and down the stairs on his own, if not a lot slower than usual.

He starts taking quick showers on his own. Steve still washes his hair in the sink, and now he helps Eddie change his bandages after he showers.

One day, Eddie hesitates on the edge of the bathroom threshold. “I don’t…” he looks away, bites his lip. Puts his arms up, tousles the top of his hair to prove his point. “I can do it on my own now.”

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling strangely heartbroken. “Right, yeah, that’s great. I’ll just, uh-” he takes a step back, angles his thumb behind him.

Eddie jerks forward, wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist. “But you could help? If you wanted?”

Steve tugs Eddie over to the bed, sits on the edge. Doesn’t say anything until Eddie sits, too. He plays with the frame of his glasses as he says, “You’ve been flirting with me.” Eddie lets go of his wrist. Steve tries not to miss it. “It’s… it’s okay. You don’t have to stop. I just need you to be honest with me.”

“Anything,” Eddie whispers, and Steve drops his voice to match.

“Do you mean it? Or are you just flirting because you can?”

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs, bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s jaw, and oh, Steve thinks.

Oh.

“Really?” He whispers, and Eddie nods.

“Really.”

“I can’t,” Steve murmurs. “I can’t do this if you just like me. If this is… is gonna be a fling, or whatever.”

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs again. “I’ve long since healed enough to sleep alone. I don’t want to. I want to wake up to your face every day. I want to bring you your glasses when you forget them, I want to stir your pasta sauces and annoy you in the kitchen until you threaten to throw me out, even if we both know you never will. I want to be the one you come home to every day, the one you turn to when you need support. I want you to feel safe with me the way I do with you.” His thumb strokes Steve’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Because I do. I feel safe with you. You make me feel safe. You- baby.” He strokes Steve’s cheek again, studies his eyes. “Baby. Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Steve gasps, and Eddie does.

He leans in slowly, enough time for Steve to close his eyes and part his lips the barest amount, not out of any desire to tease, but just because he’s feeling so much he can’t contain it all, and it has to come out in gasps and breaths and small, shaky moans, when Eddie licks into his mouth, pulls his tongue into a tango, back and forth and in and out until Steve’s positively dizzy with it.

He pulls back just to tilt his head the other way and dive in with just as much fervor, sucking Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at it until it’s swollen and tender and Steve feels like he could float away.

Steve breaks the kiss first, dizzy and panting and overwhelmed, leaning forward and pulling Eddie into a hug. “I’m so glad,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think…”

“Of course I would,” Eddie mutters back, holding Steve tight. “Of course I would, baby. Didn’t have a chance, really, was just gone on you from the moment I saw you.”

Steve pulls back, tugs Eddie down until they’re both laying down, halfway on the bed, noses nearly brushing. “And you want me to… to help?”

Eddie grins big enough his eyes are slits. “I’m gonna be honest here, sweetheart, I definitely imagined help would come after.”

Steve giggles back, leans in to steal a peck of a kiss. “I can do that,” he agrees, standing up and pulling Eddie to the bathroom.

They’re both laughing like little kids as they go, and a part of Steve wonders if that’s what falling in love is: growing young again.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

THE OTHER WOMAN.

pairing. single dad tangerine x fem reader — angst word count. 1954 summary. you feel like the other woman in your relationship with tangerine, questioning whether he’ll ever see you in the same light as his past love. his daughters big feeling about the topic make the situation all the more challenging

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Unwanted. That’s the only feeling you could really identify around Tangerine’s daughter, Mandy. Her harsh, hateful eyes like that of a warning, a silent message to you and you only that you weren’t welcome. The expressions she wears are a spitting image of her father’s, stares and glares always seeming to scope you out of every room — making sure you know your place. Everything about Tangerine miniaturised into a ten-year-old girl.

The near eleven months of being in her and Tangerine’s life never seemed to get any easier. And with as much time as you’ve spent with her, you’d have thought she’d take to you by now. But still, she hasn’t.

You wanted to prove yourself to her without being fearful of the response, show her your fun and whimsy. Show the parts you hide around her. So today, you offered to pick her up from school — to save Tangerine another job between his forever extensive list of errands. 

And so you stood near the school gate, a mini bag of her favourite animal chocolate biscuits in your hand to surprise her — the fingers of your other hand fidgeting anxiously, waiting for the flood kids to exit their six-hour-imprisonment. And then you spot her, her smile bright and bold as he skips with her friends, their book bags swinging with their jumps. All personality dissipating the moment she locks eyes with you through the metal fencing.

She parts from her friends, her features straightening as she walks towards you. 

“Where’s my dad?” she asks, looking around.

“He got caught up with the food shop so I offered to get you,” you smile down to her, trying to ease her. “Hope that’s okay.”

She sighs, the sound disappointed. 

“I brought these for you,” you extend your hand, offering her the small purple packet. 

But she declines, her face like that of disgust as she stares at it. “I want my dad.”

“Of course,” you nod and shove the packet into your bag. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” you offer a weak smile, nodding her along to the car park.

The drive home is quiet, your questions going unanswered and ignored as she stares out the window – trying to pretend you weren’t there. Your attempts of offering friendship turned away like all your others over the last several months. You wanted to feel accepted, feel welcome. But the looks she’d give you were often similar to disappointment. Disappointment that you’re ‘the replacement.’

You pull onto the pebble drive of Tangerine’s house and park beside his car. As soon as it stills, Mandy is getting out, slamming the door behind her and running off towards the house. You give yourself a brief moment to collect yourself, trying to calm your breathing as not to cry. And so you follow after her, getting closer to shouting and screaming inside the house. 

The last you caught of the spat being from the very angry, very sad little girl. “I hate you. I hate her.” The sound of heavy footsteps following as they storm up the stairs. 

You poke your head into the front door, spotting Tangerine at the bottom of the stairs raking through his hair — trying to calm himself as he looks at a family photo frame on the wall. One with his wife and infant baby daughter. He swears under his breath and kicks at the pair of shoes in front of him, knocking them against the wall. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, watching him as you close the door behind you.

He turns to face you, startled. “God,” he utters, holding his heart.

“You okay?” you ask.

He inhales deeply and nods, the act like he’s trying to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, features sympathetic as you gesture upstairs. 

“Ain’t your fault,” he shakes his head, trying to reassure you. “It’s just a lot for her, that’s all.”

“I don’t think she’ll ever like me,” you laugh weakly, the sound like that of discomfort rather than humour. “I’ve been around nearly a year,” you prompt, avoiding his eyes. 

He paces towards you and lays a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you through the very obvious hurt you’re both feeling. “To her, it just happened, you know?” he says, words soft as he presses a kiss to your temple. “I lost my mum young, too. It’s gonna take her a while to come around… and when she’s ready, we’ll be there,” he pauses to look at you. “Both of us.”

You lean into him, nuzzling your head against his briefly. “I know,” you exhale unsteadily, trying to ease yourself. “It’s just hard,” you murmur, eyes focused on a wedding photo portrait on the side table. “I feel like I’m inserting myself.”

“You’re not,” he reassures, hand reaching for yours. “You’re not. I promise you’re not.”

You feel the cold brush of metal from his left hand and you glance down to your hand enveloped in his — looking at the wedding band he still wears even two years later. The ring an act of promise from his old love.

You shake your hand from his hold, retracting it from him. It all begins to feel like too much and you want to back up, but you’re already against the door as it is. 

“I think I should go home.”

“No,” Tangerine says softly, head shaking sternly as if to enforce his words.

“She doesn’t want me here,” your eyebrows sadly furrow, curving in the middle. “And I—”

“I do,” he interrupts, a downcast expression mirroring yours. “I want you here. I do,” he reaches for your hand again, and this time you don’t pull away. “She’s struggling, yeah, but so am I.”

“I know,” you whisper, pulsing him with a squeeze. “I know you are,” you release his hand and wrap your arms around him, pulling him for a hug. The embrace warm and safe, the act a physical testament of your support.

He rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, burying his face into your comfort. You hear a soft sniffle and you hold a hand over the back of his head, trying to protect him from his grief. You simultaneously run a line down his back, soothing and smoothing him — keeping him aware of your presence. 

The tender moment is cut short when the pair of you hear a loud clatter from upstairs, the sound coming from Mandy’s room. He parts from you and rushes up the steps and you follow closely behind. 

“Mand!” Tangerine shouts out, barging into his daughter's room. She’s on the floor, a bunch of books and toys scattered around her. “Fuckin’ hell,” he pants, making his way closer to his little girl. “What have I told you about climbing?” he shakes his head, clearly pissed by her rebelion. “Could’ve really hurt yourself. What are you playing at?”

“I was trying to get something,” she looks at the bookshelf ahead, gesturing to a box.

You follow her eyeline from your spot in the doorframe, noticing a tiny pink floral box. You step into her room cautiously and reach for the trinket, holding it carefully as you get closer to Mandy and Tangerine — kneeling beside them. 

“It’s so pretty,” you say quietly, marvelling at its detail.

“It’s mums,” she responds and takes the box from your hold, her far smaller hands brushing over yours. “It’s her favourite.”

You turn to look at Tangerine as he watches his daughter, his eyes glued to the box Mandy’s holding.

“It plays music,” she states, her face lighting up.

“It does?” you ask, features mirroring hers. “What does it sound like?”

Excitement. A newfound feeling you felt around Tangerine’s daughter.

“Am I allowed to play it, daddy?” Mandy asks, looking up at him.

“Of course, poppet,” he nods, smoothing over her curls that match his. “You can play it.”

She opens the little wooden box and twists the handle at the side, letting the gentle classical tune play. With Mandy’s attention captivated, you reach a hand to Tangerine behind her back, comforting him — the sound sure to flood his brain with past memories. He looks over to you, eyes soft and slightly red as he acknowledges you, trying to show his appreciation.

The music lowers to a quiet lull until it stops completely.

“I can see why it’s her favourite,” you say, looking down at her — watching her smile grow wider. “It’s beautiful.”

“She gave it to me, didn’t she, dad?”

He chuckles weakly as he leans forward to kiss her forehead, skimming her hair line. “She did, darlin’.”

“Daddy said it was hers when she was little like me,” she speaks to you, maintaining eye contact like she's never done before. 

“That’s right,” Tangerine smiles at his daughter. “She told you to keep it safe, didn’t she?” he rhetorically asks, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” she smiles, the expression spreading across her sweet, little face.

“Want me to pop it somewhere safe?” he asks, gesturing to the small keepsake.

Mandy nods and passes Tangerine the trinket, her hold gentle as she transfers it into her dad’s far larger hold. He lets go of your hand as he stands, getting up from his crouched position with a groan. Tangerine walks towards the bookshelf and turns around, like an idea suddenly arose in his mind. 

“Say,” he starts, meeting both of your gazes. “What would you say about having company for dinner, Mands?”

“It depends what we have,” she jokes, voice mischievous like that of a younger Tangerine — she really is her father’s daughter.

“How about,” you draw out as you twist to face her, tapping your chin like you were pretending to think. 

“Waffles,” she interrupts.

“Waffles?” you repeat, tone dramatised. “I was thinking more worms and ear wax.”

She laughs as she repeats your suggestion, shaking her head as she does so.

“Wanna know what I had in mind?” Tangerine chimes in, joining the pair of you on the floor. He waits a beat before continuing. “Toenail soup.”

Mandy turns to look at you and laughs. The noise genuine and sincere as she finds amusement in your company.

“Are you staying?” she questions, looking between you and her dad.

“Not if we’re having toenail soup,” you joke and shake your head. “Only if you want me here.”

She keeps her eyes on her father, nodding subtly at him as if she’s suddenly grown shy.

“She does,” Tangerine speaks for his girl, his arms opening up for her as she bashfully knocks her head into his chest. “I think she also wants to say something else, ain’t that right, Mands?” he prompts, patting her on the back. “Something beginning with ‘s’?”

She mumbles and groans faintly. “Sorry I was mean,” she mutters, hiding. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you say softly, laying a gentle hand on her back below Tan’s. “Change isn’t easy— I struggle with it too. And what you’re going through is such a big thing— such a big change. But me and your dad are both here, okay? And I… and I love you both and I want to be there for each of you.”

Tangerine reaches for your hand with his spare, left one, giving it a squeeze as if to show his gratitude — his appreciation for your patience and support. You return the act with one of your own, pulsing his hand and interlocking with his fingers. You look down to your hand, noticing the absence of a gold band on his ring finger. 

He’s always been good at stashing things in his pockets.

There will still be space in his heart for his lost love, but now, he’s just making more room for you.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[nemisuki]

Just Smile

Idol AU | Attending yet another group signing event has developed into a routine. But what you’re looking forward to most is speaking to your favorite member of the group. And seems like he expects you too. Being a fan since his debut has always been so rewarding.  

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, protective bkg, minor jealousy, silly moments, extroverted reader, open to interpretation, can be just platonic or romance, 2.1k word count 

"Next!"

The smile on her face brightens as she approaches the table. Clutching the brown gift bag in her arms as she follows the staff member. A routine she’s gotten used to by now. 

She takes a seat in front of the desk, her gaze landing on the person across from her.

Unable to hide her emotions, she begins to laugh at his facial expression when he sees her.

"What's with the giggles huh?" he rolls his eyes, already grabbing a sharpie and twisting the cap off with expertise. 

"Well hello to you too! And I'm laughing because you look extra grumpy today. Hang in there Bakugo, you still have about an hour left or so!"

"I ain’t grumpy, stupid. Just that a extra gave me a plushie with a damn camera in it, creepy fucks" he mumbles with furrowed brows as he starts signing group merchandise for her.

Obvious disgust in his tone at the whole situation. 

Her eyes soften in a sympathetic gaze at his words, "Gosh I’m sorry about that. But I'm glad you found out quickly, who knows if they put a tracker in it."

"Don't apologize for the freak, we're used to it" he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand, giving her the signed goodies a few seconds later. 

He stares at her as she takes the items with a bright smile, "You know I watched the music video like 100 million times when it first came out a week ago! Your stylist did amazing for the other members, but that jacket you had? Stunning!"

"Hmph piece of shit was hard to dance in though. So…. you gonna hand over whatever is in the bag or what?"

Deciding to tease him a little, she shrugs her shoulders and hums, "Sorry but this isn't for you it's for someone else."

For a split second, she can see surprise take over his face. She could only watch as his facial reactions grow more sour at the implication of her words. 

"The fuck?" he crosses his arms, mentally listing off possible reasons on why she didn't get him anything this time. Unknowing to the bitter facial expression that just took over him.

If it's one thing he's confident in, it's that she'll bring him gifts at every fan signing event.

Sure she always brings the other idols of the group some goodies too but, Y/N always brings him extra.

Because he's her bias.

Of course he’s her favorite.

So what gives?

His red eyes are practically drilling holes in that brown bag she's holding. As if it committed a crime right in front of him.

Seeing a clear sign of jealousy from the blonde, she bursted into laughter and began pulling the items out.

"I'm just teasing, relax! I got you some spicy snacks, and yes before you ask, the spiciest level I could find."

She slides over the assortment of chips and candies towards him. To which he takes and analyzes them, not forgetting to send a mini glare her way due to her little joke.

Despite that, the previous tension in his body seems to fade away.

"Oh guess what! I finally managed to collect every one of your photocards, can you sign my album?" she says, proudly taking out the small book with her prized collection inside.

"Do I even wanna know how much you wasted on all these?" he grumbles, flipping through the pages.

Frankly he is shocked she managed to get them all. He constantly refuses to do such ‘outrageous’ things. But his contract always manages to be used against him. 

He wasn’t one too back down however. 

Hence after many arguments with management, he settled by having his specific photocards become harder to find than any other member. Only releasing a limited amount to the public. 

The blonde takes notice of the small decorations she put throughout the small binder. Stickers and past ticket receipts glued onto some of the pages. Even some confetti from their concerts were stapled on there.

It's the thought of her picking up confetti from the stadium floor that has him stifling a laugh in his hand. His shoulders shaking from hidden amusement.

Her eyes slightly widen in shock, it's not often he's so carefree like this. Especially driven to the point of laughter.

But she's thankful to whatever deity is on her side today.

Before he seemed a bit irritated due to the prior fan experience. At least now he's lightened up.

"Wha- hey don't laugh! I had to fight someone on ebay for the special christmas edition card you know!" she adds on, hoping to prolong his cheerful attitude.

"You're so stupid" he mutters under his small chuckles, finally getting a grip after a few seconds. His neutral expression back on his face, but his relaxed posture says otherwise.

His fingers point to the reason for his good spirits, "Why the hell did you staple these flimsy pieces of confetti in here? The color is starting to fade."

"Oh thattttt, it's from your group's first concert when you debuted! I had to keep something to remember that day!"

As he listens to her words, he flips back to the first page, beginning to sign the album with extra precision. Making sure it looks neat in between the silly decorations. 

She's the first one to achieve the completed album after all.

Y/N was definitely one of his first fans since the group debuted.

It's been years since they met at the group's earliest fan events. Honestly it has gotten to the point where he looks for her in the crowd of every concert and event they host these days.

He knows she'll be there. She always is.

Hell, the girl even made a fan account for him. He even dropped a follow a long time ago. Which to this date, is the only other account outside of his group members, that he follows.

Bakugo can still remember the way she showed up to the fan event the next day, practically bawling her eyes out and thanking him.

Her eyes were so puffy and it was a hilarious sight to him.

Somehow everything she does was unpredictable.

"1 more minute"

The group manager reminds everyone.

Bakugo simply rolls his eyes at the pestering voice nearby. Y/N now pouting at the reminder, "I swear the time gets shorter at every fan event!"

"The more fans, the shorter the time. You know this already."

"Hmph I remember when it used to be 5 minutes not 3!"

He hums in acknowledgment. Today was a rare occasion, usually he’d outright refuse to join the other members in events like these.

Though he doesn't mind the time being shortened, some fans are too much or don't even talk at all.

Too intimidated to speak one on one with him compared to the other members.

Not like he was much of a talker in the first place. 

But Bakugo would be lying if he said he didn't want more time with her specifically, "You're coming to the next concert right?"

"Of course!" she shouts out, giving him a look like he’s crazy for even thinking she wouldn’t go.

He gives her a small nod while grabbing the snacks from earlier. Putting them under his desk to save for later, "What row?" 

"Front row this time~" she says squealing with delight, taking out her phone to show him. 

He looks at her screen as she leans over the desk so he can have a better look. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices his bodyguard tensing, clearly wondering if he should intervene.

The blonde simply lifts his hand up to stop him. To which the guard obeys and stays put. 

His gaze goes back on her phone, taking a mental note of what seat number she was gonna be in, "Best view huh?"

"Mhm gotta film for insta! All your fans want me to do a close up fan cam for the new songs. So do your best!"

"Tch I always do amazing, ya idiot" he huffs in her direction.

"30 seconds"

Y/N's smile returns as she holds up her phone, "Before I go, can I get a photo with you Bakugo? It's for your fans, pretty pleaseeeee?"

He groans at her request, he frequently denies such demands from fans but for her-

"Then open the damn camera already. We don’t have much time" he grumbles towards her.

She giggles at his blunt response and quickly scrolls to open her camera app. Clicking the front facing feature and holding up the phone so they can both fit in the frame.

He doesn't move to pose at all. Just sitting there as he stares at the camera with crossed arms over his chest.

Looking like a statue. 

"Aw c'mon, what's with that stoic look? No smile?" she teases while holding in another laugh.

"You're a damn pain" he says, seemingly annoyed but leaning over the table, much to her surprise.

He is considerably close now, staring at the camera as he sticks out the middle finger.

She takes the photo before she can register his pose, then dramatically gasps, "Bakugo! You'll get in trouble! Do another pose, I can't post that!"

"Tch the fuck else am I supposed to do? I ain't doing no damn peace sign."

"Oh! Here, do this!" she uses her other hand to form half a heart, looking at him expectantly to copy her moves.

He stares at the hand gesture, clearly confused, then copies it while staring at the camera, "the hell is this?"

She puts her hand against his, making a full heart as she shines a bright smile, then snapping pics not a moment later.

He finally seems to notice the shape and gives her a small frown, "You're a piece of shit."

"Pftttt this is why you need to be on social media more, or you wouldn't have fallen for it!" she begins cackling as she looks back at the series of photos. His confused look morphing into one of irritation.  

"Take another one, dumbass!"

"Aghhhh fine fine!"

She cuts him some slack and goes to take another one. Now posing with a small finger heart aimed towards the camera.

He stares at her for a few seconds, seemingly in thought.

Then abruptly, deciding to rest his chin on her shoulder. Looking at the camera with a calm expression.

Y/N clicks the button and snaps the photo.

Frankly a bit shy at his pose selection. 

She didn’t even have time to address it since the fans who'd been seated, already began getting up to rotate to the next idol.

He seems to notice how quiet she got and bites back a knowing grin, lifting his head off her shoulder and ruffling her hair.

Guess she’ll always be a fangirl at heart huh. Despite how long they’ve known each other. 

"I'll see you at the concert then" he mutters in a softer voice, that only a rare few get to hear.

He's not a man of many words at events such as these, but his eyes speak for themselves. Those red eyes are so piercing that she has to look away for a second to register her words.

A bashful smile takes on her face as she nods, "Mhm I'll see you!"

She slowly gets up and waves bye to him before walking away, sitting at the other spot with another one of the members.

His gaze lingers on her for a moment, the sound of approaching footsteps making him snap out of his daydream. 

The group manager speaks from behind, "Bakugo, you already know the rules. You should refrain from touching your fans-"

"Her name is Y/N" the blonde swiftly states, interrupting whatever nonsense the other man was gonna say. 

"And no need to lecture me like I'm a rookie. I never touch fans in the first place” he looks back at the guy with a harsh glare, threatening him to continue.  

"Yes I am aware. But with that girl.."

"She's the exception."

The manager's eyes immediately filled with disbelief, looking at Bakugo for further clarification. He was always a bit softer with that girl in particular. But he never confronted the blonde about it till now. 

Bakugo simply gets his sharpie out for the next approaching fan, seemingly unbothered by his previous statement.

"Oh and don't call her a fan either. She's more than that."

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

“-and post!”

A yawn escapes her a few seconds later and she soon decides to call it a night.

She lays down in the comfort of her own bed, resting her head on the plush pillow. Sleeping with a peaceful expression on her face.

Unknowing to the uproar happening on social media.

Katsuki Bakugo was trending online.

The reason? You’re photo with him.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| This is inspired by my current fixation! Recently I’ve been trying to get into kpop to see what the hype was about. Someone recommended TXT for a beginner like myself so I started binge watching their videos for about 2 weeks now. I’m still a massive newbie tho so I’m unfamiliar with lots of stuff regarding kpop. But all the members seem so sweet omg I already love them hehe (also they’re all so pretty like what the hell are those genetics? I’m jealous asf)

[jiinxswife]

Jinx x fem!reader - how would jinx react to your additions?

Trigger warnings: self harm, drinking, depression, smoking, jinx acting toxic because she doesn’t knows better. Self harm is the longest one for personal reasons

Autor note: I wrote and posted this yesterday, but apparently, due to a mistake, it got deleted, so I’m posting this again

Self harm

•oh your girl is pissed and worried when she finds out about your addiction

•100% chased down everyone who ever made/influenced you to hurt yourself

•tries to help you, but ends up guilt tripping you. “You’re hurting yourself? You know how badly I had it? And even so I didn’t hurt myself”

•”if you cut yourself again, I will cut myself too” she says once she starts to get desperate

•”you drew stars around my scars” yeah, but it isn’t stars but random doodles and phrases that comes into jinx’s mind

•always caress your scars, always having a thumb gently caressing/tracing over them

•if you’re insecure about your scars, she will kiss them while whispering that she loves you how you are, if even so you still feel really insecure about them, she will offer to get you a tattoo would definitely be a matching one or her name

•if your depression/self harm addiction gets worse, her hideout is becoming child-proof, guns, grenades and everything dangerous is hidden and safety nets are installed everywhere you could jump off

•keeps an eye on you for every new cut

•Will try everything she can to help you, even buy some self help books, even if she finds most of them to be bullshit

•praises you a hell lot when you’re clean, makes sure to tell you how proud she is

•if you have a kink like knife play, she won’t accomplish to it, she doesn’t wants you to get mental health and pleasure mixed

•called you her “fruit ninja champion” at least once-

Drinking/alcoholism

•the addiction that most annoys her

•when you come home wasted, on the first times at least, she takes care of you, once it becomes an habit, she starts to get annoyed

•jinx is really clingy and possessive, and it annoys her that you’re prioritizing alcohol over her

•tries to go to bars with you, if you won’t stop drinking, maybe you could drink together? But you get drunk way too soon

•starts to make your drinks, but changes the alcohol for water or something, in an attempt to detoxify with the placebo effect

•if you persist in your addiction, she will start to saying things like “it’s me or the alcohol”

•Will try to get you addicted to something else so you leave the drinks addicted to her

•if you get clean, she’s praising you a lot. And also threatening every single bar owner to never sell you anything alcoholic

Smoking

•the addiction that she’s most used to

•grew up seeing Sevika and Silco smoking

•shows you the best brands of cigarettes her princess deserves the best

•doesn’t really tries to stop your addiction, at the start at least

•if you start to get sick due to the smoking, she will definitely make you stop. There ain’t hospitals in zaun; and due to her reputation, none of you could ever enter piltover

•if you’re trying to stop, she starts to always walk with popsicles on her pockets

•Lollipops that leave the tongue blue, do I have to say anything more?

Ahhhh this was my second time writing it, first post got deleted for some reason. I’m sorry it’s short, I just don’t know what else to write , anyways, I’m posting this before I hate it way too much

[deansapplepie]

You couldn’t lose each other

Summary: You were pregnant, then you weren’t.

Warnings: ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of character death, mention of “putting someone down”, soft Merle, on purpose asshole Daryl, blood, hurt, mental instability, hurt, stubborn main characters, loss, grief, and maybe more. 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

A/N: I never experienced miscarriage and am writing everything based on my knowledge through series, movies, soap operas and books, so it may have inaccuracies. If you are sensible to any of those topics please don’t read, your mental health is more important!

It had started about a week ago, heavy dizziness and morning sickness (which didn’t happen exactly only in the morning). On top of that your period was late, which you tried to atribute to the sub nutrition all of you went through while on the road, but as soon as other symptoms started… you knew it was probably other thing.

You went on a run with Daryl to get more baby formula for Jude and just discreetly added a pregnancy test on your backpack, in a part you hoped Daryl wouldn’t look because he never did. As soon as you got to the prison and had some alone time you risked yourself going somewhere, no one would see you or find you, to pee on the damn thing and find the truth. The truth was… you knew it, you didn’t need a test, you were undoubtedly and very much pregnant.

One end of afternoon, Merle sat by your side and didn’t bother to tip toe around you. “When are ya gonna tell ‘im?”

“What?” He took you back with his question.

“When are ya telling my brother ya’re with his baby?” Your eyes widened at his question. “Daryl ain’t the only one with observation skills. Who ya think taught him everything? I saw the symptoms and the pregnancy test you hid on your pocket the other day.”

“Fuck you Dixons.”

“Ya already do it to one of us.” He sassy replied, you rolled your eyes as usually happened during your banters.

“Soon. I’m just waiting the whole governor thing end. He already has too much to worry about, he’ll freak out if I tell him now. He’ll probably put me on bubble of safety and not let me do anything.” You stated, Daryl could have the rough exterior but both of you knew how he was, how he cared about people. Also he had changed so much the last months, and it was for the better. “Don’t tell him, let me do it.”

“Al’ight.” He surprised you, you had learned how to deal with Merle, but he wasn’t the same asshole as before. Still an asshole though. “It’ll be good have a mini Dixon around. I’ll help to keep ya’ll safe.”

“I know, you can be a jerk sometimes but I know you care about your family.” You gave the older Dixon a small smile and squeezed his hand to reassure him. That had been one of the nicest things he ever told you and coming from Merle, that was a lot.

The governor had asked for Michonne to leave your group alone, you didn’t believe a word of it it, but Merle did or at least he had to try. That morning he disappeared with her and all of you knew what he was up to. Daryl went after them, you wanted to go too but of course he wouldn’t “allow” you.

Some time after, Michonne arrived, alone. You asked about Merle and Daryl, and she told everything that happened with Merle. He had set her free and went by himself. It wouldn’t end up well, you could feel it in your guts, and your feeling just confirmed to be true when Daryl arrived alone.

Everyone gathered around him to know what happened and he told you with teary eyes. The others left to give both of you some time.

“Daryl, I’m sorry.” You said, both of your hands cupping his face, he averted your eyes. “Hey, look at me.”

“Leave me alone…” he grumply answered trying to get out of your grasp.

“We’re together in this, huh? I’m here for you, we both cared about Merle.” He snorted.

“Ya cared about Merle? Ya never liked him!”

That wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. He was hurt, he had to put his brother down, there wasn’t anyone else that could do it for him, even if there was… it had to be him. Somehow, in his abused mind, he thought it was all his fault. Merle died because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted to protect his little brother as much as he could in this fucked up world, and that was the way he found to do it. It was just a matter of time for you to do the same and it would be entirely his fault if you ended like Merle. You were the last thing he had from the old world. You were the only good thing he had, and if he had to push you away to keep you alive, that was what he was going to do, because he couldn’t afford living in a world without you.

“This isn’t true, Daryl. You’re hurting, I get it…” he cut your speaking before you could finish.

“Ya don’t. Ya never will!” He distanced himself when you tried to touch his arm. “We should break up.”

“What?!”

“Ya heard it.” He confirmed.

“Ok, when you’re not speaking no sense we can talk, I know you’re not ok, but there’s a limit of shit I can take.” You wouldn’t continue to insist on it if he was going to continue acting like that. You knew he was suffering, but so were you and he was being a prick.

“There ain’t gonna be another talk. I said what I said.” Those words left his mouth as if they were nothing, but each of them felt like a knife in his throat.

“Is it really the moment for you to dump me?” You knew he was emotionally unstable, no one make good decisions like this.

“Did I stutter?” The moment he threw the harsh words, he knew he had got what he wanted, the hurt in your eyes pained in his chest and this time he was sure he had lost you for good.

Since that day, you didn’t talk to him and he also ignored you. You asked Rick to not put you both working together anymore. You moved your things to Carol’s cell, now also your cell. Woodbury had fallen, now the survivors of the town had joined you at the prison.

Your little secret was still yours, or sort of… Carol was a mother. She went through all the shit you were going through, all of you saw Lori going through it. She knew it already, but didn’t tell you anything until one week after everything that happened.

She asked you, “aren’t you telling him?”

This time you didn’t even got surprised and already knew what she was talking about. “No.”

“And when it starts to show?”

“I’ll tell I just fucked someone and was too drunk to remember.” You stubbornly replied.

“You’re being childish, he deserves to know.” She was right, but you were tired and emotionally damaged already.

“ ‘cause he’s being a fucking kid too. I get it, he’s suffering, but he needs to stop hurting people every time he’s hurt. It’s time he grows up and man up.” You said arms crossed.

“You know his past better than I, I thought you from all the people would understand.” The older woman wisely said.

“Carol, I appreciate your concern, he’s your friend too, but you don’t understand.” You said, was it you? Was it the hormones? You couldn’t know. “Please, don’t tell him. It’s not your place to do it.”

“I won’t. You’re the one that should do it.” As soon as she answered, she left you alone.

One week later, or a little more, it seemed like Rick had forgotten his promise that he wouldn’t put you ti work with Daryl as he put both of you on fence duty to kill the walkers. Ok, there were more people with you, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself being watched and you knew the weight of his stare. You could feel it in your soul. Also, you couldn’t help yourself and from time to time look at him, because you would be a liar if you said you didn’t love him anymore or that you didn’t find him handsome and attractive, and what’s beautiful was made to look at.

It was middle of the morning, even though it was starting to get cold the sun was strong for whoever was working under it. You had sweat and few stains of blood from the walkers you had killed through the fence. You were feeling extra tired, you thought it was because pregnant women got more sleepy, so you didn’t think about it so much.

Some minutes after you felt a sharp pain on your lower stomach. Weird. ‘Please let it just be a stomachache or gases’, you thought.

You continued working then you felt the pain in the same place but sharper. ‘Please, don’t let it be anything with my baby’, you thought again.

You kept doing your job, this time more slowly as you felt the pain irradiating through your body, until you felt a stabbing pain in the same place and something hot going down your legs. You looked down and saw blood. “NO!”

You shouted and that called people’s attention Daryl’s specially. He looked at you and all he could see was blood. Did you hurt yourself with the weapon? Did the governor came back and wounded you? Did somehow a walker managed to bite you?

“Nooo-hooo-ooo.” You shouted cried throwing yourself to the ground.

In seconds he was kneeling by your side. “Hey, hey, look at me. What is it? What happened, doll?”

“I lost it.” You said, crying more at your realization. “I lost it.”

“What did ya lose, babe?” He asked, he thought you were delirious due to the blood loss. His hands around your face trying to make you look at him, trying to ground you. He was panicking, where were you hurt? Was he going to loose you anyway and he had spent the last weeks loosing his time with you?

You cried. “Our baby, I lost our baby.” You said between sobs.

It hit him like a punch on his stomach. You said your baby, a baby from both of you, a baby he didn’t know existed, a baby that… his abused mind played with him again. A baby that could be possibly gone because of him. “Stay with me, love. I’m taking care of you.” Who were you? Just you? You and the baby? Was there any chance this was a weird bleeding but the baby would still be ok? He didn’t know. He knew nothing about it.

He didn’t think twice, he took you in his arms and started running. “HERSHEL!” He yelled the doctor’s name again and again, until he found him and had you in the infirmary.

Before getting to the infirmary you had passed out, maybe it was the shock or it could also be the blood loss, you’d never know.

Hershel examined you. Daryl stayed all the time by your side, making questions to the doctor. Teary eyes while he explained everything. You were indeed pregnant, and yes, you had lost the baby. Daryl’s hopes were shattered at pieces, he cried. He the big rough man that didn’t like to show his emotions cried, it was Hershel. He was a friend. He was family after all.

After making sure nothing had stayed in your uterus, the old man had a talk with the younger one. Hershel made sure Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, at this point he already knew the archer well and knew he was guilting himself for it. He ensured it was something that could happen at this early stage, you were at the maximum 2 months pregnant according to the tissue your body expelled from you. That small tissue was what would be your baby. The feeding poor in nutrients could have harmed your body, it was pretty much a disorder in your uterus so that happened. There was no one to blame, besides the end of the world.

Some time had passed when you woke up, you were as much as clean as they could got you and you had warm feeling on your right hand. You looked to your side and you saw Daryl worried and guilty eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” You said. You remembered everything.

“Maybe.” He said, even if Hershel had already reassured him. “But it doesn’t make it less worse. I could have lived it with ya for the little time we had.”

“I was the one that didn’t tell you.” You turned to your side and extended your left arm till you were touching his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I AM sorry.” He said giving emphasis to that. “I… I dun know what I was thinking.”

“I know.” You knew he was lost at that moment, but it didn’t hurt you less when he pushed you away and both of you needed each other. “Merle wasn’t your fault. The baby neither.”

At the mention of Merle’s name and the baby, your voice quivered and the tears threatened to leave your eyes, and they did. They fell from your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. “I ain’t pushing ya away anymore. I… I was so afraid of losing ya too.” Tears also slipped on his face.

“Merle was happy, he knew he was going to be an uncle.” You remembered the conversation you had with him the day before he sacrificed himself. “He noticed it and asked me about it. I was going to tell you when the governor shit was over.”

You also felt guilty about Merle’s death. You knew sometimes he didn’t take some smart decisions, but did he tried to face it all alone because he also wanted to be a better person to his nephew or niece? He had told you he would protect all of you.

You sobbed. You both cried together, now your arms thrown around his neck and your face hiding in it. You both had lost too much already, you couldn’t afford losing anything else. You couldn’t lose each other.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @shadowcitrine @vaniniweenie @cupidelocke

[mcflymemes]

ROMANCING THE STONE (1984) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

what did you do, wake up this morning and say “today i’m going to ruin a man’s life”?

if i were to die, there’s nowhere on earth i’d rather be.

oh, you smoke it?

the cops? what do they want? i haven’t done anything lately!

i couldn’t stop thinking about you.

why won’t you take the elevator?

i’ll kill you, goddammit!

how will you die? slow like a snail? or fast like a shooting star?

this guy who is following you, he is very persistent.

i like your boots.

we're sitting right in the middle of it.

i knew it would happen.

all you care about is yourself, isn’t it?

i knew that from the first moment i laid eyes on you.

i'm telling you, this is turning out to be one hell of a morning.

there's no way across this sucker!

you did this on purpose!

we just went over a waterfall!

i'll meet you there! trust me!

i even read one of your books.

he died right in my arms.

i don’t have any idea, i’m sorry.

you see? you're completely unprepared.

well, we’ve all got our problems today, don’t we.

can you tell me where the nearest town is?

will there be another bus?

that nice man who pulled a gun on you? what else did he tell you?

jesus christ, we’re in a lot of trouble.

understatement of the year, asshole.

is there anybody who isn’t following you?

now move it, before batman comes home.

you’re the best time i’ve ever had.

i understand you have a car.

goddamn it, i knew i should have listened to my mother.

now i ain’t cheap, but i can be had.

don’t i know you?

oh… i’m the creep, huh.

well at least i’m honest.

wait a minute. he’s after you.

who the hell are you?

don’t give me that shit.

one hell of a morning has turned into a bitch of a day!

how long have you been down here?

this kidnapping stuff makes me really nervous.

someone’s gonna get killed.

will you stop worrying?

have i ever hurt you? i will never hurt you. i can’t hurt you.

we’ve got the same blood. we’re not two people; we are one person.

someday if i had the money, i’d take you… we’d sail away… around the world and back again. i promise you.

i was thinking about something you said.

i’d love to see you on the boat.

you’re leaving? you’re leaving me?

you are now a world-class hopeless romantic.

which way do we go?

can we get there in your car?

what do you want? seriously, i’d really like to know.

maybe it’s silly, but… i know there is somebody out there for me.

i can’t believe how fast you cranked this out.

look at me, i’m a mess.

is it… uh… poisonous?

you are the luckiest son of a bitch that ever walked the face of the earth.

i could’ve been killed, and you’re drinking!

i’m hot-wiring the car.

you’re gonna need something stronger than that.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 5: Open Doors

Character: Eli Michaelson (Nobel Son) Relationships: Eli x reader Warnings: smut, student/teacher hookup

Read on Ao3 or below:

You closed your laptop with a sigh. You’d tried pretty much every spot on campus you could think of, but everywhere was crowded and noisy, and you just couldn’t focus. You left the study hall with your laptop under your arms, trying to think of where you could go to get your coursework done. You needed somewhere quiet, somewhere no one would disturb you - preferably somewhere with a lock.

As you wandered through the halls of the college, you passed through the science block, and an idea struck you. It was a long shot, but you thought you might as well give it a go.

You found your Chemistry professor’s office door and knocked. After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a frowning Dr Michaelson.

“Office hours are over,” he said shortly. He hesitated, though, looking you up and down thoughtfully. “…I might make an exception, though. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Dr Michaelson, and I know this is gonna be a real cheeky ask…”

Dr Michaelson raised an eyebrow curiously and leant against the doorframe, his arms folded.

“I’m tryna do my math homework but everywhere on campus is so busy, I can’t focus. Is there any chance I could just sit in the lab to do my homework?”

“And risk knocking something over?” Dr Michaelson scoffed. “No chance. But… you could work in here.”

That took you aback.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure. Just keep the noise down, would ya? I got my own work to do.”

Dr Michaelson stepped back and opened the door, gesturing for you to come in.

“Wow, thanks, Dr Michaelson, I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

You said this as you walked into the office, so you didn’t see the hungry smirk that teased at the corner of your professor’s lips when he heard that.

“Not a problem at all, [Y/n]. Anything my students need. Here - lemme make you some space.”

He gathered up some of the papers strewn over his desk to make some space, then pulled a chair around for you. You thanked him again as you sat at his desk next to him.

“Now, don’t go telling everyone they can do this,” Dr Michaelson said firmly. “This is a one time thing, you hear? You caught me in a good mood.”

You mimed zipping your lips closed. Dr Michaelson smiled, then turned back to his own work.

You opened your laptop and loaded up your math homework again. Finally, you were able to concentrate. You liked having company when you studied, but not the obnoxiously loud company that Stanford seemed to be full of today. It was nice having Dr Michaelson for company, because he didn’t disturb you, and you were able to really focus on your homework.

Although he was mostly quiet, you did hear Dr Michaelson grumble under his breath sometimes. After the third “fuck’s sake” from him, you had to glance over.

“Something wrong?” you asked with amusement.

“I hate computers,” Dr Michaelson replied with a grumble as he hit the backspace button aggressively. “It keeps telling me I’m spelling Musettamycin wrong.”

You peered over at the screen, where his word processor had put a red squiggle under ‘Musetamycin’.

“It has two Ts,” you said.

Dr Michaelson frowned at you. “I think I know how to spell Musettamycin, [Y/n]. I am a Nobel Laureate.”

“Yeah, in Chemistry, not English.”

He narrowed his eyes, then stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. He flicked through the pages, apparently found what he was looking for, and quickly put the book back on the shelf.

“Well done. You passed my test.”

He sat back down and added an extra T, and the red line promptly disappeared. You giggled.

“Do I get extra credit?”

Dr Michaelson looked at you thoughtfully.

“You get one chance for my help with your math homework.”

“Who says I need help?”

Your professor scoffed.

“You’re smart, [Y/n], but you ain’t that smart. You’ll need it,” he said confidently.

He turned back to his work, and you to yours - and, sure enough, eventually you came across a problem you just couldn’t solve.

“Alright, I admit it, I need help.”

Dr Michaelson leaned back in his chair with a triumphant grin.

“Well, well, well…”

“Stop!” you laughed. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Dr Michaelson sighed dramatically. “Well, there are drawbacks to being a Nobel Laureate, I suppose. Everyone thinks you know everything - which I do. Come on, then, let’s have a look.”

He scooted his chair closer to yours to look at your screen.

“Oh, that’s easy. You gotta find a substitution to simplify it. Look at the denominator - what kind of substitution d’you think you need?”

“Uhm…”

Your mind went blank for a moment when you felt Dr Michaelson’s breath on your cheek. You realised suddenly that he’d scooted very close to you. He had one arm on the back of your chair, while with his other hand he pointed at one of the integers on your screen.

“Oh, er… trigonomic, right?”

“Good girl,” said Dr Michaelson, and you felt a strange shiver run across you, like he’d said some secret code to make you blush. He glanced at you, clearly noticing your reaction, and smirked.

“So… choose a substitution.”

He spoke softly, as if he were talking about something very different.

You cleared your throat and went to write out a substitution, trying not to get distracted by how very close to you he was. Dr Michaelson pulled his hand away from your screen… and rested it on your knee.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you wrote out your workings, and when you paused, he glanced back at your screen.

“Good. Now, rewrite it in terms of theta.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do that when his hand was still on your knee… or when it began moving up your leg, his fingers grazing your inner thigh. Was your Chemistry professor seriously coming onto you right now?

“Good girl… so smart,” Dr Michaelson muttered in your ear. “I don’t think you need my help at all… you just wanted some attention, huh?”

You could feel your heart racing. Your cheeks were burning red, but it just seemed to spur him on.

“Is it really all that busy on campus, [Y/n]? Was I really your only option for some peace and quiet? I don’t think so…”

“I, um… I remembered you said the lab stays locked…”

Dr Michaelson chuckled, his deep voice reverberating in your ear.

“Mmm, and you wanted to get me behind a locked door, is that it?”

“N - no, I…”

You gasped as Dr Michaelson reached the top of your thigh, but instead of stopping, he just kept going, his large hand suddenly cupping your crotch firmly through your pants.

“It’s bad form to lie to your professors, [Y/n],” he whispered. “I could report you for academic misconduct, you know.”

He stroked you with his fingers, and even through the fabric of your clothing, it sent a tingling feeling right to your core.

“Dr Michaelson…”

“Call me Eli.”

“Eli… how do you know I won’t - ah!” - another squeeze from him - “won’t… report you for this?”

He smirked.

“Are you telling me you don’t want it, [Y/n]? Say you don’t want it and I’ll stop.”

He continued caressing your crotch, his fingers dancing dangerously close to your zipper.

“It’s… it’s bad form to lie to my professors,” you said, stealing a glance at him. His pupils were wide with lust, his confident smirk on his lips just begging to be kissed.

Eli chuckled.

“Smart girl.”

He unzipped your pants and slipped his hand inside, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine.

“Wet already?” he teased, his fingers exploring your folds as you tried to keep your lips closed tight, lest you cry out a little too loud and be heard in the corridor. “My, you are an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

He pushed two fingers between your inner folds, digging deeper into the wetness that was pooling between your legs. You bit your lip, your eyelids fluttering, and let out another whine when Eli’s fingertip found your sweet spot.

“You need to simplify the expression,” he murmured in your ear as his finger circled your clit.

Your eyes fluttered open, confused.

“I - huh?”

Eli nodded towards your computer screen. “Simplify it, then integrate with respect to theta. Then your integral will be straightforward.”

What the fuck was wrong with him?

What the fuck was wrong with you, for that matter?

He stopped his movements very suddenly, and you whined in frustration.

“Go on. Show me how clever you are.”

You tried to clear your mind and focus on the expression on your computer screen, but you were far more interested in the finger that was now circling your clit again, spreading your wetness around as you tried to remember what numbers were.

“Good girl,” Eli said again. He’d clearly figured out how weak you were to those words, and he was using them to his full advantage. “What do we do next?”

Finger me, you thought.

“Substitute back to x,” you said.

“Go on, then. You can finish it from here.”

As your fingers moved across the keyboard, his fingers moved down through your folds, and pushed at the entrance to your pussy.

“One more step. Go on.”

You cried out as his fingers slipped inside you, but you kept going, willing your mind to try and think about stupid numbers at a time like this.

“Root over four minus x squared,” you said aloud, trying to ignore the way Eli’s fingers were crawling deeper inside you, reaching out to find your G-spot.

“And then - ah! - plus C.”

You sighed with relief as you finished your answer.

Eli smirked.

“See? You didn’t need my help with math. But I do think you needed my help with this, didn’t you?”

The hand that was on the back of your chair reached around to slide under your arm and grab your breast through your t-shirt as he began pumping his fingers harder inside you. You moaned.

“You like that, huh? You like getting fingered by your professor?”

“Y - yes,” you admitted. “It feels so good…”

“You think this is good? Just wait ‘til you feel my cock… you’ll be coming back every day on the pretence of needing help with homework, but really you just need my cock.”

You let out a moan of his name, which seemed to spur him on, as he began fingering you more aggressively, his other hand pawing at your breast, as if he were resisting tearing your clothes off to get straight to your flesh.

You grabbed onto the arm of your chair to steady yourself, and with your other hand, you reached over to Eli’s lap to cup his hard length beneath his trousers, and you couldn’t hide your reaction when you felt how big he was.

“You want it, huh? You want my cock, [Y/n]? Go on, tell me you want it… all you have to do is ask…”

“P - please, Dr Michaelson,” you panted. “I need your cock. Please - please, fuck me on your desk…”

Eli groaned, overwhelmed with arousal at your words. He withdrew his hands from you, then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. Your lips connected with his instantly, his arms wrapped around your torso, and you could feel his rock hard erection straining through his trousers, rubbing against your own far too clothed crotch.

He was a sloppy kisser, seemingly trying to get as much of his saliva in and around your mouth as possible. You reached down to unbuckle his belt, and he groaned with relief when some of the pressure on his cock was relieved.

“Fucking hungry little minx,” Eli growled as you fumbled with his belt. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Fingering yourself to the thought of me… mhm, I know you have. Go on, get those damn pants off.”

He pushed you off his lap, and you obediently pushed your pants and underwear down past your knees, kicking them off along with your shoes while Eli finished opening his fly and pulled his cock out from underneath his boxers.

He hummed with satisfaction as he looked at you, pulling languidly on his cock as he took in the view of you, naked from the waist down, your pussy soaked and ready for him.

Oh, he had definitely found his new plaything.

Well, he’d better test her out.

He got to his feet and kissed you again, his cock brushing against your skin, his lips parting from yours only to pull your t-shirt over your head. He grinned when he saw the lacy bra you were wearing.

“Someone had a plan when she got dressed this morning,” he said smugly. “Did you decide to seduce your professor this morning or were you already planning it last night?”

“I like to wear this sometimes,” you admitted. “It makes me feel confident.”

“Mmm, and damn right too… God, those tits are so fuckable. Maybe another day, hm? I promised you my cock and you’re gonna get my cock. It’s what you deserve for being such a smart girl. Now - on the desk.”

You obediently hopped up onto the desk, perched on the edge, but Eli placed a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you onto your back. You could feel papers sliding around beneath your back, and you had to push aside a stapler that was digging into your shoulder, but something about getting fucked by Dr Eli Michaelson on his work was incredibly hot.

“Look at you, fucking hell,” Eli growled as he rolled a condom he’d pulled from a drawer down his shaft. “You’re gonna get your slutty pussy juice all over my papers. Ah, well.”

He entered you with one fluid motion, causing you to cry out in surprise as his cock pierced your cunt, sliding easily up your walls, stretching them out with a delicious burn that sent your pleasure receptors wild.

Eli kept a firm grip on your thighs as he thrusted into you, groaning with abandon and no apparent care for who might be walking by.

“God, I fucking needed this,” he moaned. After his wife had left him and his last plaything graduated, he’d been going through a frustrating dry spell. And now here you were, presenting yourself at his office with your low-cut top and your tight little ass. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Oh, fuck - fuck, Dr Michaelson, that feels so good…”

He smirked proudly at your moans. He knew just how good he was at fucking, but he still loved to hear it.

“Your cunt’s full of my cock, [Y/n]… I think we’re on first name terms now.”

You laughed, which quickly turned into a groan of surprise when Eli pushed your thighs back further, spreading your pussy out for him as his hips pummelled into your flesh.

“How long have you wanted this, [Y/n]?” Eli asked. “Did you walk out of my first lecture with soaking wet panties? Or did it take you a few lectures to realise how badly you wanted my cock?”

“I - I always thought you were handsome,” you admitted. “Ever since I - ah! - saw your picture in the paper when you got your Nobel Prize. I saw you worked at Stanford and - oh! - applied for my postgrad here.”

Eli grinned, his ego swelling as much as his cock.

“You applied here just so you could fuck me?”

“No!” you insisted. “I was gonna go to UCLA, but I thought - mhm - if I came here instead, I could study under a - ah! - a Nobel Laureate - fuck!”

Eli picked up his pace, fucking into your cunt furiously, the stroking of his ego sending a fresh wave of lust over him.

“Mmm, now look at you - you’re certainly under me now, huh?”

The desk was shaking violently, papers flying everywhere, and you heard the crash of a pen pot falling to the floor. Neither of you paid much mind to it.

“I might just have to schedule some one to one tutoring with you, [Y/n]… since you went to such lengths to be under me. Would you like that?”

“Y - yes,” you panted, your voice straining as you felt pleasure coiling inside you. “I think that would be - ugh - beneficial… fuck, Eli, I’m gonna cum…”

“Mmm, yes, cum all over my cock,” Eli growled. “God, look at you… fucking magnificent… and all mine…”

He released one of your legs from his grip to press his thumb against your clit, and as soon as he began rubbing circles around the swollen bundle of nerves, you knew you were done for.

“Yes… yes… Eli…”

“Fuck, [Y/n], I’m so close… I’m gonna cum so fucking hard…”

His moans increased, his thumb rubbing your clit and his cock furiously fucking into your cunt, and combined with the look of unadulterated pleasure on his face, you felt yourself tipping over the edge, and you cried out his name as you came, your legs twitching and your cunt gushing around his cock as your orgasm overwhelmed you.

Feeling you cum around his cock was the last straw for Eli, and he moaned loudly as he came too, filling the condom with his seed as he continued fucking you through his orgasm, hips stuttering erratically as he came inside a cunt for the first time in far too long, and such a warm, tight one too.

Eli stayed buried inside you for a few moments as his movements stilled and you both caught your breath. Then, he pulled out of you with a loud squelching sound, and passed you a box of tissues to clean yourself up.

“Fuck, that was so good,” he panted as he pulled the spent condom from his cock and deposited it in the bin.

You mumbled what sounded like “uh-huh” in agreement, your mind still addled from the pleasure as you tried to mop up as much as you could from between your legs.

When finally you’d managed to locate your clothes and get them back on, Eli was sitting back in his chair, watching you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well, I’d certainly give you an A for that,” he said proudly.

You laughed.

“What, am I majoring in sex now?”

“If you did, you’d be top of the class.”

He passed you your laptop, which thankfully hadn’t been damaged by your escapades.

“So… reckon you need some one-to-one tutoring?”

You blushed under his intense gaze, his eyes still staring at you hungrily.

“If you think I need it, Professor,” you said coyly.

Eli grinned and reached around to give your ass a squeeze.

“My door’s always open for you, [Y/n].”

[rosiestalez]

LOVELY PLEASE. I need some Gambit angst. The angst where Gambit loves Rogue and he will never love you like he does her. I NEED IT. I NEED TO CRY.

Oh my gosh, y’all just LOVE angst dont y’all. I was working on something like this request before i got it, and i’m glad i finished this! Maybe i’ll make a part two to this! i have a good amount of requests and i’m getting them as quickly as i can thank you for understanding!

The Rules of the Game

Remy LeBeau x gn!reader

summary: Remy tells you something after 1 year of marriage!

warnings: ANGSTY ASF, cursing, a lot of alcohol is mentioned, i think that’s it. Picture from Pinterest

Happy reading 🫶

——————————————————————

It’s a rainy night; the soft sound of rain knocks on the windows, creating a gentle rhythm that fills the quiet house. The book in your hands is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire Remy lit before heading downstairs to play poker with his friends. The crackle of the fire mixes with the faint laughter rising from the basement, but the peaceful ambiance begins to fade as you hear the unmistakable sound of Remy stumbling upstairs, clearly drunk.

The kitchen cupboards bang open and shut, and you can hear him muttering curses in French under his breath.

“You okay, darlin’?” you call out from the couch, pushing your glasses up your nose. You turn away from your book, your gaze lingering on the kitchen. “Need some help?”

“I’m good, cherie, just tryna fin' my liquor,” he slurs in response, his words thick with alcohol.

Sighing, you reluctantly get up from your cozy spot and stroll into the kitchen. Without a word, you pull a brand-new bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the pantry and hand it to him.

“Oh, mon cherie, thank ya! You’re too kind to me!” he says, kissing your forehead clumsily before snatching the bottle from your hand and disappearing back downstairs. You roll your eyes, shaking your head at his drunken gratitude, and return to the couch, diving back into your book.

As the night wears on, the fire begins to dim, and the laughter from below grows louder, echoing through the house. You glance at the clock—almost 1 a.m. Deciding it’s time to call it a night, you snuff out the fire and finish the last sip of your wine. Heading upstairs to the bedroom, you strip out of your clothes, tossing them into the hamper, and slip on a silk purple nightdress. The plush sheets of your California King bed welcome you, and you soon drift off.

Hours later, the mattress dips beside you, pulling you from your sleep. You glance at the clock: 3:00 a.m. With a sigh, you feel Remy’s arm wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Rem—”

“Shhh, go back to sleep. I ain’t mean to wake you up, amour,” he whispers, kissing the back of your neck as he brushes your hair out of the way.

“You’re makin’ it kinda hard, sugar,” you reply, letting your Southern accent lace the words with frustration.

“Sorry, jus’ miss you… you didn’t come down to see me.”

“My bad. My book was really good,” you chuckle lightly, though deep down, your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t shake the discomfort of knowing Rogue, the woman who broke Remy’s heart, is downstairs playing cards. But you decide to save that for when he’s sober. “Good night, Rem.”

You try to let go of the irritation, but it lingers as your meemaw’s words echo in your mind: *Never let the sun go down on your anger, darling.*

The sun is already creeping through the curtains when the sound of vomiting startles you awake. “Damn it,” you mutter, pulling yourself out of bed. In the bathroom, you find Remy pathetically bent over the toilet, retching out the remnants of the previous night.

“Baby? You okay?” you ask gently. He gives you a weak thumbs-up, still hunched over the toilet. You hurry to the kitchen, grab an ice pack, and place it on the back of his neck, holding his auburn hair out of the way. “That’s it, get it all out,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

After several minutes, you help him into a cool shower, washing his hair and handing him an aspirin along with an anti-nausea pill. Once he’s cleaned up, he brushes his teeth and joins you in the living room, squinting dramatically at the light as if it were torture.

As the two of you stand across from each other in the kitchen, you can feel the tension brewing. He knows something’s on your mind, but he waits, sensing the storm coming.

“Why was she here?” you finally ask, your voice tight with emotion.

“Who?” he responds, though there’s a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Rogue. Why… was… she… here?” you ask again, hugging your arms to your chest. A flicker of sadness crosses your face, but it quickly hardens into something more.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. The two of you had been married for about a year now, ever since Rogue left him at the altar. You had been his solace, the one who helped him pick up the pieces of his broken heart. But sometimes, it still felt like you were competing with a ghost.

“Y/N, please, not today,” he says softly.

“Not today?” you huff, your sadness turning into anger. “What the hell do you mean, ‘not today’?” Your voice takes on the sharp edge of your Georgia accent. “Remy, is there something you need to tell me? Did you sleep with her?”

He looks at you incredulously, as if the accusation is absurd. “Y/N, I’m not sleepin’ with her. Oh mon Dieu!” His frustration is palpable as he walks away, grabbing his shoes and the jacket hanging by the door.

“Remy, where are you going?” you shout after him, your anger boiling over.

“Out,” he says flatly, slamming the door behind him.

“Shit,” you mutter, slapping the door with your palm before storming off to the bedroom. You throw yourself onto the bed, eyes welling with tears. Clutching his pillow, you sob into it, your heart aching. *What is he not telling me?* The tears come in waves—anger, jealousy, sadness, all tumbling out uncontrollably. His scent lingers on the pillow, and for a fleeting moment, you consider tearing it to shreds. But you can’t. Despite everything, your heart still swells with love for him.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, and you fall into a fitful sleep, alone in the bed you share with him.

Hours later, the sound of the door creaking open pulls you from sleep. You hear it close softly behind him, the house trembling slightly. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s noon.

You wipe the tear stains from your cheeks and gather the strength to get out of bed. After rinsing your face, you make your way downstairs to find Remy sitting on the couch, whiskey in hand, soft jazz playing from the TV. His eyes are fixed on the dark screen.

“Rem, I’m s—”

He cuts you off, patting the spot beside him. “Sit,” he says quietly. His gaze burns into you as you take your place on the couch, pulling the blanket over yourself for warmth. The room feels cold—colder than usual.

“Mon amour, we gotta talk, like adults, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak, afraid the dam will break again if you do. He hands you a glass of wine that’s already sitting on the table, waiting for you.

“I can’t love you the way I loved Anna-Marie,” he says, his tone serious. The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body goes rigid, heat rising in your chest as you struggle to understand.

“W-what?” you manage to squeak, the words barely escaping your lips.

“We had somethin’ for years,” he continues.

Your eyes flick to the wedding band on his finger, then to yours, and back again. “Then why did you marry me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“Because I love you,” he says, placing his hand on yours, trying to reassure you.

“This doesn’t make sense, Remy.” A tear slips down your cheek. “I’m so confused.”

“I can’t help my feelings, cherie. Feelings are feelings. I can’t change that.”

“Yes, you can,” you sob. “Remy, you’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I could never even *think* of having feelings for anyone from my past and then marrying you out of convenience.”

“Cherie, I didn’t marry you out of convenience,” he pleads.

“Then why did you marry me?” you ask, your voice cracking. The tears flow freely now, and your heart feels as if it’s being ripped apart.

Remy sees the pain in your swollen, red eyes. He knows he’s broken something precious.

“Y/N, I—”

“No, don’t you dare,” you interrupt, pointing a finger at him. You stand up abruptly, storming to the bathroom and slamming the door behind you. Sliding down against the door, you cry into your knees, your body trembling with the weight of it all.

*What does this mean for us?* you wonder. *How do we move forward? Can we even fix this?*

[lunajay33]

Not the Only One

•🌪️🍂🪵🏹•

Summary: Reader comes from an abusive family and is insecure about it showing up everywhere with bruises, but one night she comes across Daryl who is more like you than you know

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Content Warning: Abusive parents

•Masterlist•

Growing up in a small town in Georgia can have its benefits, close friend group, late night walks, fun memories, but not for some, not for me I get the other side of a small town, the rough crowd and the judgmental stares from the well of kids who’s parents gave them everything they wanted

I never thought there was a problem with the way I lived as a kid but the older I got and realized that not everyone lives with abusive, negligent parents it was world shaking for me and I felt like a complete loser and I still do, I don’t have much some simple clothes and some drugstore perfume and makeup but that’s about it, others girls in my class had expensive name brand everything and judge those like me who didn’t

My dads drunk and takes his problems out on me, my moms a coward and won’t stand up for me so here I am walking around school with a cut down my eyebrow with a nasty bruise forming around

“What happened y/n old man beat on you again” Jessie says laughing as she walks by with her little click, I look back into my locker getting my books for science class sighing not ready for the day ahead full of more comments like that

I walk into Mr.jensons class taking my seat at the back, some people whispering as I walk through the class

“Okay class we have a new student transfering to our class from a different course, obvious people like me more than miss.smith’s music class” he says obnoxiously as the student enters our class

Daryl Dixon he lived a few houses down from me but we didn’t interact much, sometimes I’d see him take out the trash or see him sitting on the doc on the lake behind our houses, it was rumoured that his dad beat on him too but it’s not like we were gonna be friends because we’re abused that crazy…..right?

“You can go sit at the back next to y/n” Mr.Jenson points out to me

He sits down and I can smell his calming aroma, woodsy with a hint of cigarette

“Hi” I smiled meakly

“Hey, ya live on my street don’t ya” he asks slouching down in the chair

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around” so he’s seen me too

“Alright class listen up” the class went on like usual until the bell rang signalling the end of the day, I gathered up all my stuff shoving them in my bag and leaving the class, walking through the hallways heading for the exit when someone runs up next to me

“Hey, ya walking home?” Daryl asks looking down at me

“Oh yeah, I usually like to sit at the doc when I get back, don’t like to stay in the house much”

“Why not?” He asks as he continues to walk beside me back to our street

“I think you know, everyone talks about it” I say motioning to my bruised eyebrow

“They don’t understand, ain’t yer fault”

“It’s just……embarrassing” I say rubbing my arm as a nervous habit

“Yer old man?”

“Yeah, you?” He nods in agreement looking down

“Pretty shitty, wish I could just get out of here or just start fresh here” he hums making my heart warm, finally someone understands how I feel

We got to our street stopping infront of my house

“So ummm I’ll be down at the doc later if you wanna meet me there just to talk or whatever” I say

“Yeah I’ll see ya there” he says heading off to his house a few doors down

I walked into my house hoping nothing happens today, seeing my dad sat on his chair with a beer in his hand watching the tv

I try to walk past him to my room when he grabs my wrist

“Did you pick up the cigarettes from the store like I asked?” His voice is already angry, I completely forgot

“I……I forgot, I’m sorry” I whine as he tightens his grip

“Why can’t you ever listen, you know what this means”

“No please I’m sorry I’ll go get them now”

“It’s too late”

Sitting on the doc was suppose to be a wind down form the day an escape from hell that is suppose to be a house, instead I’m sat here feeling like I went solar against concrete, my lip is busted severely, by cheek stings, bruises and whips against my back, the hoodie I’m wearing was irritating against my sore flesh

I’d do anything just to go back in time and run away with my sister but I was scared and young and now I’m miserable and constantly afraid

“Hey sorry I’m late” I heard from next to me, too deep in thought to have heard him approach

I kept my head down looking at the water

“It’s fine” I mumble

“Ya okay?” That one simple question broke the damn in me as tears spilled down my cheeks, I turn to him just wanting reassurance or comfort

“I forgot to get a pack of cigarettes on the way home” my voice quivers as he stares at my red cheek and bust lip

“How am I even suppose to cover this up”

“I could go kill him” he huffs anger rising in his features

“Everything hurts” I wince when he places his hand on my back, he pulled back quickly

“Do ya need help?”

“I don’t know how bad they are”

He moves behind me lifting my sweater up to my shoulders, revealing the old and new scars that littered my back with occasionally fresh bruises

“Oh baby girl I’m so sorry” he says under his breath but there was something there in his words that made it feel like he understood this type of beating

“Are they bad?”

“Don’t think ya need stitches but I don’t want ya going back there” he says bringing my sweater back down moving beside me again

“But where am I suppose to go?”

“Old man’s gone for a week, ya can stay at my place”

“Are you sure I don’t want to burden you”

“Ain’t a burden, yer staying with me, come on”

His house was more or less just like mine but there is no surprise there, our fathers are basically the same, he brings me to his room and it’s pretty normal, some hunting stuff plain brown walls

“Thanks for this” I say sitting on the edge of his bed

“ ‘course, ya need anything?”

“Do you have any painkillers?” He went in his drawer and popped one in my hand, taking it hoping it will ease this discomfort

He jumped on the bed sitting next to me as a comfortable silence surrounds us

“I got em too”

“Huh?”

“Scars, don’t like to show em, don’t like to be reminded”

“I’m sorry Daryl, one day we’ll be happy, one day we’ll get out of this mess”

“Together”

Part.2

Taglist: @l0kilaufeys0n7 @stoner420things69 @pinchofthetwd @thestonedwriter @daryldixmedown @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @superbowlisgay @daryls-wife @pinkratts @daryl-dixons-left-hand @mrrumplebottom @twistedprincess-92 @addi1978 @wongcena @darylspersonalwhore @starrqi @heidiland05 @livlaughlove03

[harringtonstilinski]

I Wish You Would - Gator Tillman

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Gator Tillman x Reader Word Count: 9,975 Warnings: fluff, angst, reader gets slapped, but it's not described and there's no signs of it happening, gator being super soft for his girl, Requested: no | yes; Smut: no | yes; car sex, protected (m+f) A/N: Hi, friends! I know I said I would never write for Gator, but I had an idea in my head and I had to get it out. I hope I did Gator justice! Also, he calls reader Dollface, and Roy(gross) calls her Little Darlin'. I've never written anything like this before, so please check the triggers above. Some of these scenes were hard for me to write. BUT, if you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

HIGH SCHOOL, SENIORS, FALL 2009

“Surprise, shitbird.”

You couldn’t help but look up from your book to roll your eyes at the boy in front of you. Shaking your head, you went back to look at the words on the pages before your head popped up again at hearing a kid say, “Stop it, Tillman.”

Sighing, you closed your book and stood, approaching the two males. Tapping the instigator on the shoulder, you said, “Hey. Tillman.”

He turned around to face you. “What?”

“Follow me.” You waited for him to nod his head before you wrapped your arm around his, making sure he was going to follow you. Once you two were truly alone, you turned to him, fire in your eyes. “What the heck, Gator?”

“What do you mean? That’s the boy that wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Yeah. In the first grade! We’re freaking Seniors now, Gator! He’s left me alone since I told on him.”

He just looked at you confused, so you sighed and elaborated, “My mom ended up talking to his mom, who’s married to one of your dad’s deputies. Apparently, his dad got onto him and said that if  he didn’t stop messing with me that he would put him in handcuffs and bring him to my house to let my dad beat the shit out of him while his stood and watched.”

Still confused, Gator said, “But your dad works for mine, too.”

“Oh, my god,” you breathed. “That’s not the point, G. The point is that he’s left me alone for years, so there’s no need to beat the kid up over it.”

Sighing and looking down, Gator nodded. “I’m sorry.” Looking back up at you, Gator looked into your eyes for a second before pulling you into a hug, which you gladly returned. Pulling back, he rested his hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “You coming to the game tonight?”

“I haven’t missed one yet,” you replied. “I’m ain’t gonna start now.” Smiling at him softly, you leaned into his touch, not wanting the moment to end.

You and Gator had been best friends prior to preschool, your dads working together and your moms best friends since the both of you were about two years old. Throughout the years of playdates and outings your moms had planned, you ended up developing a crush on Gator, and he you, but you two obviously never said anything to each other.

“Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’d kick your ass if  you did.”

Laughing, you shook your head, wrapping your arms around his middle for one more hug as the bell for the last class of the day rang. He reciprocated the hug, wrapping his own arms around your neck, gently, before kissing the top of your head.

“Hey, Tillman!” a voice rang out, causing a sigh to sound from you as the person ruined a moment between you and your best friend… one you might not get again after the game.

~~~

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Gator seethed, hobbling around his room on crutches as you laid on his bed on your stomach.

It was a couple of weeks after that game. Gator had gotten tackled pretty badly by another player, a cornerback, and broke parts of his leg. Needless to say, Gator was pissed and still is.

“I’m tellin’ ya, dollface. He’s got it coming.”

“G–”

“He did that shit on purpose,” he said, stopping to face you. “He’s got another thing coming, and–”

“You've got another thing comin',” you sang, giggling at the unamused look on Gator’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit him. Literally.”

Rising from his bed, you stood in front of him, looking at him like he’s the only boy left in the world. Whispering, you said, “You can’t get in trouble with Roy again because of you acting on impulse. I know- stop -” Gator sighed heavily, like  he didn’t want to hear your words. “I know the guy hurt you and basically shut down your career, but that doesn’t mean that-” He then tried to look away from you, but you put your hand on his chin to guide his eyes back to your own. “Look at me - that doesn’t mean you go and retaliate.”

Gator sighed and brought his forehead down to meet yours. “I know, but I’m so pissed off that I don’t know what else to do other than hurt the one who hurt me.”

“I know, G.  I know.”

You both looked at each other, something in the air shifting as you both started leaning towards each other. Just as your lips were about to touch, a knock sounded on his bedroom door. “Gator! Take Little Darlin’ home. It’s getting late.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the nickname that Roy gave you as a child. “I hate it when he calls me that,” you whispered. “It’s creepy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a creepy motherfucker anyway,” Gator whispered back. Bringing a hand up, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Come on, dollface. Let me take you home.”

Once the two of you exited his room and got to his truck, you smiled a little as you got comfortable in the passenger seat. “Thank goodness he broke your left leg,” you said, a smile on your face as Gator put his crutches in the backseat. “Or else the Creep would have to take me home.”

Gator chuckled as he slid into the driver’s seat. After starting the truck, he started the journey to your home, the radio playing quietly as background noise. You loved riding with Gator; just the two of you.

When Gator got his driver’s license, the two of you would drive down all the back roads with the windows down, blaring whatever song or band the two of you were into at the time. It was your favorite thing to do before Gator’s football career got a little bit more serious last year.

Now, as you’re riding with the windows down and listening to the music that’s quietly playing, you closed your eyes, reminiscing.

“What’cha thinkin’ about over there?” Gator asked.

With a smile on your face, all you could do was happily sigh before replying. “Just thinkin’ about how we used to do this all the time before you became super popular last year.”

“Hey. What have I told you about all that? I’m still the same Gator–

“Just a little bit tougher and meaner.” You air quoted the word tougher because to you, Gator was nothing more than a big teddy bear with big emotions. To everyone else, he was the hardass, popular quarterback that had dreams of making it big.

“Only to everyone else. Not to you.” He snuck a glance at you before putting his eyes back on the road, his crush growing tenfold. Sighing, he pulled into your driveway, your dad standing outside on the porch, his cellphone up to his ear.

Since you had your window down, you heard him say, “Yup. They just pulled up. Yup. Will do, Roy,” before he hung up and stood near the steps, his arms resting on the railing as he leaned over just a touch. “Let’s go, kid!”

Sighing, you looked over at Gator, who had opened his door to get out of the truck. “Gator, stop. You don’t need to get out. Not with your leg. Stay. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He and your father didn’t get along that well. Your father expected more out of him, just like Roy did, and when Gator didn’t deliver to Roy’s standards at home, Roy would tell your father, and well… you get the picture.

“Yes, G. I’m sure.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek which caused him to close his eyes and let out a deep breath, your lips lingering for a moment before softly whispering, “Good night, Gator.”

Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at you, gently resting his forehead on yours. “Good night, dollface. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, you got out of the truck and walked up the five steps to your front porch, your dad’s voice stopping you as he said, “You can do better than that little lizard boy.”

All you could do was close your eyes, trying not to let the tears you could feel building up fall over your lower lash line. “And mom could do better than you.” You walked into the house without a care in the world, knowing what was to come at that comment.

Later that night, you laid in your bed, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, feeling the remnants of your fathers hand.

The next day at school, you avoided Gator, not wanting to talk about what happened after you walked into your house the night before. You knew he was still sitting in your driveway, waiting for you to enter the house before leaving, and seeing the small interaction with you and your dad. You had also heard that he took a tire iron to the kid that broke his leg, after he promised you he wouldn’t.

You successfully avoided Gator the remainder of the week, knowing that you just sealed your fate of your friendship possibly being over.

~~~

FALL 2019, TEN YEARS LATER

A lot happened in the last ten years since you started avoiding Gator, but you kept up with him through rumors and stories at school, as well as news articles and such through college and most of your adult life.

Now, at the age of 27, you find yourself back on the Tillman Ranch with your father and mother in tow. “Why do I have to do this?” you asked, sitting in the backseat of your dad’s truck. 

“Because we haven’t seen them in a long time,” your mother said. “You haven’t even asked about Gator since your senior year of high school.” Turning to face you, she asked, “By the way, what happened there? You two were so close. I just don’t–”

“Mother, please drop it. It’s not important.” Sighing, you straightened your back before smoothing down your hair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Exiting the truck, your lip curled up slightly in disgust. Roy was standing on the porch, a beer in hand, smiling at your family of three. “John! It’s about time y’all got here!”

Wrapping an arm around you, your father answered, “Had to convenience this one here to get dressed and in the truck.”

You stiffened, remembering the night that everything changed for you and your friendship with Gator. Giving a tightlipped smile, you looked at Roy, and sarcastically said, “Just so happy to be here.”

“Jess and Maude will be happy to know that you’re here,” Karen said, coming to stand by her husband.

Jessica and Maude Tillman, Gator’s half twin-sisters, were born the year after you stopped talking with Gator. You babysat them while going to the local college in the next town over for a little bit of extra money.

Your smile softened a little at hearing the twin’s names. Before you could go and see them, however, Roy directed you all the back of the house, where a long table was set up. “Seems like y’all still do big Sunday dinners.”

“Well, little darlin’, when you’re a Child of God, you gather the family around and have a nice dinner,” Roy said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You quickly moved away and turned to go into the house to retrieve a glass of the stronger liquor you knew Roy had, but seeing a certain person had you stopping dead in your tracks. You knew what he’d done with his life since you “broke up” with him all those years ago. 

He had his hair slicked back with it faded on the sides and the back with two slits on the left side of his head. A black button down donned his chest, a watch on his left wrist and a pair of jeans on his legs, with a pair of boots.

“Damn,” you whispered.

“Hey, dollface,” Gator said softly. “It’s, uhh… it’s good to see you.”

You just stood there, basically gawking at him as he walked down the steps. Snapping out of whatever trance you were in, you said, “Uh, y-yeah.” After the two of you kissed each other's cheeks in greeting, you stood there for a moment, taking in his scent. “Y-you, too, G.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he said, “Haven’t heard that single letter in ten years.”

Without missing a beat, you said, “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Gently cupping your jaw, Gator shook his head, brows furrowed. “Don’t apologize for that. I don’t know your reasoning for it, but just know… that I forgive you.”

Leaning into his touch, you smiled softly, replying with that same softness in your voice. “Thanks, G.”

“Anytime, dollface.”

“Gator. Little Darlin’--”

You shivered at the use of those words. “I always hated when he called me that. Still do.”

“Come take your seats so we can say grace and eat.”

~~~

After what seemed like a calm dinner the night before, you and Gator exchanged numbers; you getting a new phone after high school to separate yourself from the town of Lehigh, and Gator because of his multiple run-ins with his coworkers.

You learned that night that Roy made Gator deputy, what with Gator being a nepo baby and all. When your dad offered you a front desk job at the station, you declined and moved out of state to attend college.

Now, as you look out of the passenger side window of your dads truck with your head resting on the window, you find yourself going right back to the Tillman Ranch. 

“The girls are at school, so you won’t be able to see them today,” your father said.

“That’s fine,” you softly replied. Picking your head up, you wondered, “I wonder if they still have Aurora.”

Aurora was a beautiful American Quarter Horse that was gifted to you when you were about 7 years old from Roy. Back before you know big of a big creep he was.

You left her behind when you left Lehigh, and you never stopped thinking about her.

“I wonder if she’d remember me,” you whispered, more to yourself.

“Of course she will,” your dad said. “Horses have great memory. Just go–”

“Slow.  I know.”

Getting out of the truck after your father parked, you slowly made your way to the barn, seeing a man leaning on the gate, a cigarette in hand. Deciding to ignore him, you leaned against the gate, as well, immediately spotting your beloved horse.

She was being led by Roy’s employee, Bowman, into the barn. “Hey, little miss.”

“Hey, Bowman,” you replied, never taking your eyes off your horse. “How she been?”

“She’s been good.” He stopped in front of you with Aurora. “Been keeping her healthy, been getting her exercise.”

“Still giving her apples and carrots?” you asked, reaching your hand out. Aurora sniffed your hand before nuzzling her nose on your palm. A smile graced your face.

“She remembers you,” Bowman said, a small smile on his own face.

“I was afraid she wouldn’t.” You looked up at him, seeing him looking in the direction behind you.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He leaned forward a little to whisper in your ear, “If you wanna ride, she’s all set for ya. Just hop the gate like old times.” He then turned around and walked off, not giving you a chance to reply.

You ignored the footsteps behind you, hearing Roy’s voice not 10 seconds later. “What happened?” he asked.

“You send a man to do a job without all the information, how can the job be done?” the man next to you said. 

Deciding to be nosy, you turned your head over your shoulder, watching as Gator, dressed in a police uniform and black ballcap, stepped forward, asking, “Yeah, what are you?” He hit the man's back before asking, “The Riddler?”

You tucked your lips between your teeth to keep from giggling. The two of you loved the Batman movie growing up; the one with Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson.

“You say the woman is a woman, a…” the man said, slightly turning his head your way, looking you in the eyes. “How do you…?”

Since you don’t know what he’s talking about, you shake your head ever so slightly, letting him know you don’t have a clue.

“Housewife.” Turning to face Roy and Gator, he continues, “Never do you mean she is, for real, a tiger.”

“You saying you couldn’t handle some girl? 100 pounds soaking wet? Huh?” Gator asked, hitting the man in the arm.

“G,” you whispered, not realizing you even spoke at all until he looked at you.

The man took a drag from his cigarette as Gator continued, “It was on the wire this morning. This half-wit shot up a fillin’ station outside Beulah. Murdered the clerk. Killed a state trooper. Put a hole in the leg of another.” He chuckled. “And this retard’s partner with a cracked skull and his face half burned off in the morgue.”

All you could do was stand there and look at Gator, wondering what happened to him for him to end up just like his father.

“You say housewife,” the man replied. “So, I bring one guy. You say tiger… that’s a different guy. Cost you three times.”

“Did they take her?” Roy asked. “The police.”

Before you could think about your words and stop yourself, you asked, “Wait. I thought you were the police. Who the hell are you looking for that’s not right here in Lehigh?”

“Dollface,” Gator whispered, causing your eyes to shift from his father’s to his own hazel ones. He looked at you with a look that said he’d either tell you later or to just drop it.

Answering Roy, the man said, “Fled on foot. Possibly home. Possibly to the wind.”

Gator thought it was funny, the man’s riddles, but Roy wanted to stay on topic. “Could you find her?” 

“She could be found.”

“Who’s she?” you asked, more to yourself than anything.

“Where people go, the thoughts they have, these are known to me. Instincts. Who flees, who fights. It’s a question of price. The job it was, not the job you said.”

Looking at the left side of this man’s head, you just now noticed a gash, blood covering the area with some on his temple, going down halfway to his cheek. 

“Pain and suffering.  A man, missing an appendage, self-sewing his own skin. Scarred for life, he’s told. And then this new ask. Hunting a tiger. And it forces the man to ask: why you want the tiger?”

After a few second pause, Roy answered, “She’s my wife.”

“Don’t tell him shit,” Gator quietly said. Walking up to his father, he whispered, “I already said I can handle this. We know where she lives now. Her alias.”

Looking back at your horse, you sighed, running a hand down the bridge of her nose before walking up to the two Tillman men. “If someone could kindly tell me what the hell is going on, I’d much appreciate it.”

Putting a hand on Gator’s chest, Roy pushed him back a few steps, now seeing what the hell happened with Gator. Looking down at you, Roy said, “She made vows to me. A pledge. In sickness and in health.” He looked back at the man, continuing his words. “Consider it a debt unpaid, leaving me in limbo. Husband yes or husband no. See, she hid from me nine, ten years. Interest accrued. Until the debt could no longer be paid with money. Then, one day, there she is, fingerprints in the system. Now the limbo can end, the debt can be collected. Tell me something, friend. If a man is pure, his actions are only ever good. You believe that?”

You looked over at Gator, seeing the bad standing in front of you, but knowing there’s nothing but pure good sitting deep inside his bones.

“I’m a nihilist,” the man replied.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you and Gator asked at the same time.

“I believe in nothing.”

“You believe in money,” Roy said. “Yeah?” At not receiving an answer from this man, Roy said, “Well, thanks for your help. Go on with Gator. He’ll get you paid.” Looking down at you, he said, “Why don’t you go with him, little darlin’? Catch up after all these years.”

“Dad,” Gator said.

“Original plus pain and suffering,” the man said.

Holding your hand out to him, you asked, “What the fuck is his name?”

  Ignoring you, Roy said, “Yeah, of course.” Looking at Gator, he said, “Take it out of the rainy day fund. Fixing place.”

Confused, you looked at Gator, wondering what the fixing place was.

Looking back and forth between his dad and the man, Gator said, “Fixing place. Right.” Landing his eyes on the stranger you still don’t know the name of, he said, “Come on, numbnuts.” He turned his head, looking at you. “Come with me, dollface.”

You walked around Roy, following Gator. “What the fuck, G?” you whisper-shouted. “What the hell happened when I left? What the fuck is the fixing place?”

Grabbing your hand, he laced your fingers together, sighing. “A lot. I’ll tell you everything later.”

Somehow along the way, the man ended up in front of you and Gator. He had released your hand to grab a container from his pocket; that container holding chewing tobacco, also known as dip.

“You dip now?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Shrugging, Gator replied, “It’s better than smoking.”

“They’re both equally bad.”

Gator put the dip container back in his pocket as the man bent over and picked up a cigarette off the ground.

“I’m not saying, but you understand,” Gator said, looking at the man. “I had to rough you up a little back there. You coming up snake eyes and all.”

As the three of you walked, you looked off to the side, seeing a couple men with shotguns through the bushes.

“With her being such a tiny bird, which…” Gator snickered. “Ya’know… they used to be dinosaurs.” 

“Oh, my god,” you whispered. You looked at Gator, noticing that he put his hand out toward you, he silently asked you to stop while he and the man took a few more steps forward. 

The man turned to face Gator with the cigarette in his mouth, the latter spitting out some of the disgusting dip.

“Hundreds okay?” Putting his hand on the man’s arm, Gator forced the man to turn around before turning to face you to mouth cover your ears.

You did as he asked, watching as he took the gun you didn’t notice he had from the holster, holding it out toward the man. Looking through the bushes again, you now saw that the two men were standing in front of the man, their guns at the ready.

“Surprise, shitbird,” Gator said.

The man turned and flicked his cigarette at Gator, who dodged it while pulling the trigger on the firearm, the sound causing you to jump. You watched as the man grabbed Gator’s right arm, hearing his bones crunch before the guy put his hand on Gator’s junk, squeezing, knowing the pain it’s causing your best friend.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you heard Gator’s muffled screams. You continued watching as the guy retrieved a gun you definitely didn’t know he had while pushing Gator back, pointing it over your best friend’s left shoulder and firing off three rounds, Gator’s shouts ringing out in your ears over the shots.

Everything else seemed to happen in a blur. One moment you’re watching the events unfold. Next, you’re kneeling beside Gator, hand in between his shoulder blades as he vomits from all the pain he’s experienced in the last 5 minutes.

“Little Darlin’,” Roy said.

You chose to ignore him, instead focusing on your best friend. “It’s okay, G. You’re gonna be fine.”

~~~

After you took Gator to the hospital to get cast on his broken arm and then back to his house, you drove back to your parents house, trying to get a little of sleep, but as you watched the sun rise with a cup of coffee in hand, you realized that you didn’t get not a lick of sleep.

You went about your day helping your mom around the house before you decided to go see Aurora again, riding her for about an hour before you spotted Gator watching you, a small smile on his face.

When you got off of her, you stroked her neck, letting her know what a good girl she was before Bowman took her back to the stable for some treats and rest. Without a word, you followed Gator towards a man-made hot tub, seeing that Roy was sitting in it.

Since the two of you were a good ways away from him, you looked at Gator, noticing that he was wobbling. “You walkin’ like that ‘cause of that guy grabbing your balls?”

“Be lucky you don’t have these,” he replied. “Hurts like hell.”

You’ve also noticed that since being back in Lehigh, your filter was off because you said, “I know a way to make them feel better.”

Gator chuckled, and you… well, you were mortified. “Glad to see your sense of humor is still there.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Me, too.”

Silence followed as the two of you stepped closer to the wooden tub. Gator stepped up on it, groaning. You tried to hide your chuckle behind your hand as you walked beside him on the ground, not wanting to be near Roy.

“You gonna make it there, sunshine?” Roy asked.

Since you had stopped to the side of Gator, you watched as he rubbed near his dick and balls, sighing. “Fucker got the drop on me.”

Looking at Roy, you asked with complete and utter disgust, “When the fuck did you get nipple piercings?”

Ignoring you, he asked Gator, “Tell me her name again?”

“Uh, goes by Dorothy Lyon now,” he replied. “Lives in a suburb outside the Twin Cities.”

“Married, you said?”

“Going on ten years. Husband owns a car dealership, some kind of… uh, Korean model.”

“Koreans make cars?”

“I guess.”

“Oh, dear heavens,” you whispered, looking out at the land to your right. “You two need to get out of this stupid town more.”

“Anyway, she’s got a daughter. Names Scotty. She’s about nine.”

Roy took in a breath, one that sounded angry before a man came over the radio, saying, “Roy, we got FBI here.”

Grabbing the radio with a fat cigar in his mouth, Roy said into it, “Let’s send ‘em up.”

“Wait. The fucking FBI?! What kind of shit have you two gotten into?” you asked. Noticing Gator has his hand out a little towards you, you stopped talking to see what was about to take place.

“What do you want me to…?” Gator asked.

“Ahhh, don’t worry about it,” Roy answered, just as two FBI agents walked up the wooden tubs deck. 

Gator walked backwards, gently grabbing your arm and pulling you up on the deck with him, his arm going around your stomach as he pressed your back to his front. “Just go with it, okay?” he asked. His voice was quiet enough to where only you could hear as you softly nodded your head.

“Hard day at the office?” the male agent asked.

“Like the sign says, he’s a hard man for hard times,” Roy answered. “And by he, I mean me.”

Watching as the agent handed a card to Roy, you took in a breath,  feeling Gator’s fingertips lightly rub against your stomach as his father read the card aloud. “Agent ‘Ja-Queen’.” Roy handed the card to Gator, your eyes catching it.

“It’s Joaquin,” the agent said. Gesturing to his partner, he added, “This is Agent Meyer. We’re new in the Fargo office. We thought we’d come by, see why you weren’t enforcing any of our laws.”

“What laws?”

“Oh, you know,” Joaquin replied. “Gun laws, drug laws. Any of the half-dozen other American laws passed and ratified by the US Government that you don’t seem to recognize.”

“Well, Agent Ja-Queen, I think you’ll find that there is no one on God’s green earth who is a greater enforcer of the laws of this land than Roy Tillman.”

You inwardly groaned, tilting your head back to rest on Gator’s shoulder, feeling his lips meet your temple. That kiss that was doing things to the pit of your stomach.

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ here?” Meyer asked.

“But…” Roy said. You could hear the smile in his words. “...what you need to know is that I am the law of the land. Elected by the residents of his county to interpret and enforce the Constitution given to us by Almighty God.

All Agent Joaquin did was hum his answer, which prompted Gator to add, “Freedom.”

Being a smartass, you raised your hand in the air, saying, “Amen and amen. Thank you, God!”

“You know, I hear that word a lot around here,” Agent Meyer said.

“You’re just so nonchalant,” you said, picking your head up. “I wish I could be that nonchalant.”

“I’m curious,” she said, not acknowledging what you just said. “What you think that word means.”

“Agent, if you don’t know what freedom is,” Roy said. “I don’t think me saying the words out loud is gonna teach you.” You watched him from the corner of your eye turn his head towards you and Gator. “Why don’t you two go and do your chores?”

Tapping your side, you and Gator stepped forward, seeing the white card being flung from Gator by your head. Grabbing your hand again, he said, “Let’s go, dollface. Come help me with my chores.”

~~~

“Come help me with my chores, he said. What he failed to fucking mention is us actually getting into his fucking cop car to drive to the fucking hospital.”

“Dollface–,”

“Don’t you fucking dollface me, Gator Tillman,” you said, pointing at him. “I’m not the one keeping fucking secrets here. You told me you’d tell me what was going on and you fucking haven’t.”

Taking a deep breath, he twisted in the passenger seat of the truck another officer was driving, turning to face you. “You wanna know what’s going on? I’ll tell ya. When you left, I was torn apart. I wanted to follow you, but Roy wouldn’t let me; told me I had to stay here and help run the Ranch. You know how tough it was for me growing up. My mom dying when I was young, Dot coming in and then leaving, and now Karen and the twins. I got into some messed up shit over the years. All I wanted was to know that you were safe. All I wanted was–”

He stopped himself as you felt tears build on your waterline. “All you wanted was love and validation from your father,” you whispered. “That’s all I ever wanted from you, and all I ever wanted from mine as well. G, we both had shitty lives, but that doesn’t mean we follow in our father’s footsteps.”

“At least you got out.”

“But I also came back and stayed,” you whispered. “I was supposed to leave after dinner last night, but all I could think about was my best friend and how much he might need me to stick around.”

“I’m glad you did,” Gator whispered back.

It was silent for a moment before you heard him take a breath. “We were looking for Dot, and we found her. Dad’s on this hellbent… whatever you wanna call it… to get her back at the house.”

“Why’d she leave?”

“The abuse, dollface. She knew if she stayed–”

“She’d die by the hands of Roy.” You sighed, deeply, not knowing what else to say. “What about you? Did you go through the ranks at the station or did your dad just appoint you Deputy ‘cause of you being his nepo baby?”

That made Gator chuckle. “Uhm, I guess a little of both?”

“Well,” you said, knowing your filter is forever gone. “The uniform and baseball cap is a good fucking look on you.”

“Let’s go, babe,” he said. “We gotta ask a patient a few questions.”

~~~

As the two of you walked down the hallway in the hospital, you could hear a male’s voice and female’s voice grow louder as you drew closer. With your hand in Gator’s, you suddenly felt nervous.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Gator said, his voice soft. Stopping his steps, he turned to look at you, and you him. “I’m gonna have to be hardass, so… just…”

Sighing, you said, “Let you do your job.”

Nodding, Gator released a breath. He kissed your forehead before turning back to take a step forward, but stopped himself and looked back at you with his head tilted a little. “I need that filter back on, though. Can’t have you fucking up my job.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. “Okay,” you whispered, letting him lead you into the hospital where a man sits up in the hospital bed, a woman standing at the end in a police uniform.

“What do you know?” Gator said, stopping for a second before looking down at you. “It’s a party.”

You quietly giggled before he walked the two of you to the end of the bed right before the female officer started speaking.

“Indira Olmstead, Scandia Police Department,” she introduced, shaking Gator’s hand.

“Ah,” he said. Looking back at you, he said, “Look, baby. A city girl.”

“Well, we prefer women these days.”

“He’s old school,” you said, wrapping your hand around his upper arm to look over at her. With a smile on your face, you added, “There’s no getting him out of that mindset.”

“Well, the rest is accurate.”

“How can we help you, stranger?” the man asked.

You couldn’t help but feel extremely bad for him, seeing him laying in that bed. A thought ran through your mind; is the persona Gator brought up the day before? The one with the hole in his leg?

“Sheriff’s Deputy,” Gator said. “Stark County.”

Because you felt bad for this man, you quietly said, “He just needs to ask you a few questions.”

“Sounds like you had a mix-up in my neck of the woods last night, which–”

“They run a pretty tight ship, so…” you interrupted. Feeling Gator squeeze your hand, you squeezed back while rubbing your hand up and down his arm, trying to let him know that it’s okay. “He takes it personal when bad people show up.”

“This job will grind you down if you take it too personal,” the man said.

“What can I say?” Gator said. “I like being on the right side of a gunfight. Especially for my girl here.” You two looked at each other before he took a breath and looked at Officer Olmstead. “Heard you say you had a picture of the perps?”

“Uh, victim,” she said. “Female.”

“Right. Saw something about, uhh, a woman got taken. Or escaped or something?”

You inwardly groaned, realizing that he was bad at playing dumb.

“We think these fellas grabbed her up in Minnesota,” Indira stated. “Taking her to points west when the trooper pulled them over.”

So, now some more pieces were falling into place. Dorothy, who you now know is Dot, was taken by who you think is the man that was in the barn speaking in riddles. He and his partner, whoever that is, stopped a gas station where all hell broke loose. This man in the bed in front of you was caught in the crossfire and now has a hole in his leg, most likely from being shot.

“She killed one, the recidivist Donald Ireland, I think they said,” the man said. “The other one got away.”

“Sounds like a real Comanche, this female you’re hunting,” Gator inquired.

“Like I said, I got a photo,” Indira said. Gator reached over and took her phone from her hand. “Excuse me.”

“G,” you whispered to only where he could hear. You watched him as he scrolled through her photos.

“So, what, she some kind of criminal, also?” he asked.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still in that same super quiet tone.

He clicked on a photo, their voices dying out as you looked at a photo of Dot, holding a mugshot sign at a police station. You watched as he deleted the photo, Indira not even looking in your direction.

“Oops,” Gator said, bringing you out of your own moment. “What’d I do? Babe, what’d I do?”

Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. I zoned out.” Which wasn’t a total lie.

“What’d’ya…” she asked, taking her phone back.

“I must’a, I don’t know,  I pressed something,” Gator responded.

“Darn it,” she quietly exclaimed. “You deleted the victim, her photo.”

“Yeah, this man here and technology never saw eye to eye,” you said. “I used to sit beside him in computer class, teaching him how to open up a writing document.” You chuckled. You did have to do that once, so, again, it wasn’t a total lie.

“Especially now,” he added. Bringing up his hand, he said, “This wrist-breaker,” while shaking his hand, a small groan passing his lips.

Dumbass.

“No, no, it’s my fault,” Officer Olmstead said. “I’m not sure what I was thinking bringing the one.”

“Mistakes happen,” you said. “Happens to all of us.”

“Well,” the man said. “I hope you find her. “If it was her, saved my life, I think.”

“Oh, no, she’s home,” Indira said. “A little worse for wear but intact.”

Looking at Gator, you saw him quickly move his eyes towards her, his hand squeezing yours like he got the answer he wanted. 

“Strangest thing, though,” she continued. “Despite all evidence, she’s claimin’ it never happened.”

“Never… what now?” the male asked.

“Says nobody broke in, says she wasn’t taken. Just went for a wander for ten hours and then came home and cooked breakfast.”

“Cry for attention, sounds like,” Gator muttered. “Drama queen trying to make her husband sick.”

“Who said she has a husband?”

Again, you squeezed his hand, a little harder than before.

Chuckling, you said, “He’s just assuming, ya’know.”

“Description said 30s in the police report, so…”

“Well, all I know is, the woman I met broke loose like somebody who knows how small the cage can get,” the man said. “Wish you had that picture. Like to meet that woman again, thank her.”

“For what?” you asked.

“Far as I can tell she’s the one got you shot in the first place,” Gator said.

“Oh, the job got  me shot,” he said. “She was just… trying to get free. But you know what they say; protect and serve.”

Gator chuckled before he said, “Yeah, I’m down with protect, but…” He looked down for a moment before looking back and saying, “I ain’t in the service industry. I’m in the kicking ass and taking names business.”

He pulled out a vape that you didn’t know he had, inhaling the chemicals and blowing the smoke out, the scent of the vape filling your nostrils. 

“You two have a nice day,” he added, tipping his ball cap at Officer Olmstead before looking at you and saying, “Come on, dollface.” 

You followed him willingly back down the hallway. Deciding not to question where he was leading you, you found yourself in the alleyway, another one of Roy’s officers standing against the wall. Gator helped up into the backseat of the truck before getting into the passenger side. He looked at the officer, a smirk on his face as he said, “Consider that bitch flummoxed,” as the truck started moving in reverse.

Oh, Gator, you thought to yourself. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

~~~

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until the sounds of This is Halloween from The Nightmare Before Christmas met your ears, not to mention it being dark outside. You moaned, the ache in your neck causing you some uncomfort.

“G,” you groaned. “I’m hella thirsty, and I want a snack.”

“Okay, dollface. Hey,” he said. “Pull in here. She’s wanting something inside, and I gotta take a piss.”

You heard the inhale of breath before smelling that flavor of the vape. Something has shifted between you and Gator since those agents showed up. He’s held your hand, called you baby or babe, your arm wrapped around his as you two stand in silence. It’s something you can’t quite pin, but you know something has definitely shifted.

The officer driving the truck pulled up to the door as Gator turned in his seat to face you. “Stay here, okay? Don’t move.”

Not wanting to take that chance, you nod your head and lean back against the seat, observing Gator as he asked the officer if he wanted a pop, to which he said no and got out. Your eyes shifted out of the window,  watching as Gator gets out and walks to the door just as a guy walks backwards out of the store, hands full of items he’d just bought.

You tapped on the window, yelling out “G!” before he could do something irrational, watching as he disappeared into the store. Not five minutes later, you jumped at hearing a thud on the window on the driver’s side of the truck, seeing a body before hearing gurgling noises.

“Oh, my god,” you whispered. “Gator, please hurry.” Tears sprung to your eyes as you watched the officer’s body slide to the left of the truck right before you heard Gator’s voice say, “I got us some jerky, dollface,” before ripping the top off with his teeth. “Well, me. It’s the spicy kind.”

Getting into the car, he added, “Better keep these windows down. You know what spicy foods do to me.” You could hear munching coming from the front seat, silent tears falling down your face.

“Oh, here,” he said, reaching back to hand you your $3 water and bag of chips. You tentatively took it from his hand, setting it down in the seat beside you as you heard Gator say, “Fuck, that’s hot,” and the tale tell signs of a soda bottle opening.

As he took a swig from the bottle, you saw him from the corner of your eye looking back at you. After swallowing the liquid, he asked, “Dollface, you okay?” before turning back to the front, asking himself, “Where is this guy?”

“G-Gator,” you said, voice shaky and quiet.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Outside.”

“Wh–” 

You guessed he looked out the window at the side mirror because he quickly ducked down in the seat, saying, “Baby, get down.” You did as he said, not wanting to get yourself killed like that officer that was driving the two of you.

Gator kept repeating, “Oh, my god,” as he got out of the truck, but not before saying, “Stay in the truck.”

“Gator,” you cried, not listening for even a second.

The two of you walked to the back of the truck, your hands covering your mouth as you squealed, seeing the guy laying dead on the ground, a cardboard sign stabbed into his chest that read YOU OWE ME.

Gator, with his gun drawn, looked around, breathing heavily before saying, “Oh, shit,” before looking down at the guy and repeating his words.

“Gator, call your dad,” you said. When he didn’t make a move, you shouted, “Gator, call your dad!”

Hearing the desperation in your voice, he holstered his gun to grab his phone, calling his father and asking him to get your location as quickly as he could.

Gator ushered you into the truck before dragging the man into the bed. When he got into the driver’s side, he drove off to a dark spot of the lot, not wanting to be seen by any passersby.

Roy pulled up about 15 minutes later, the two of you getting out of the truck.

“Called you directly,” Gator said, walking toward the back of the truck. “Didn’t want this going out on the wire.”

“Little Darlin’,” Roy said in surprise. “Why are you here? Why is she here?” The last question was directed at his son.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you gestured toward the bed of the truck. “G didn’t know what to do with him, so he stuck him back there.”

Roy looked at the dead man before exhaling. “Then where were you?” Looking at you, he asked the same question.

“I was draining the snake,” Gator replied. “Two minutes in and out.”

“I-I was in the backseat. I saw it happen. Just… too shocked to call anyone.”

“Did you get a look at the tape?” Roy asked, looking dead at Gator.

Gator sighed before saying, “State cops took the whole system last night on account of the other thing.” Scoffing, he looked over at you, disappointed with himself at bringing you along in the first place. Looking back at his dad, he said, “Can you believe this guy? Coming back to the scene of the crime? Like that?” He gestured to the dead man. “Talk about big balls.”

“Yeah, well, I bet yours shriveled up a little bit on account of him getting the jump on you,” Roy said. Looking at his son, he said, “Again.”

Letting his anger get the better of him, Gator took off his cap and threw it to the ground, exclaiming, “Son of a bitch!” before yelling out into the air, leaning back a little. 

“Alright, are you done?”

Scoffing, you couldn’t believe that Roy was treating his son this way. 

“Tell me again where you found this Munch guy?”

“I-is that really his name? Munch?” you asked, voice still shaky.

“He says it,” Gator said. “Ohh-lah, and I-I, I didn’t find him. I found his partner.”

“What, the guy with his head in the toilet?” Roy wondered.

Sniffling, you looked at each Tillman man. “W-Wait. There’s a guy with his head in the toilet?”

“Dead,” Gator said, quickly turning his body towards you for a moment before looking back at his father, who he nodded his head at.

“Alright, well, first order of business,” Roy said, sighing. “Little Darlin’ needs to go home. Second order of business, we need information, find out who this guy is. Priors, known accomplices, known hangouts. Then we smoke ‘em loose.”

“If he comes for us again?” Gator asked.

“Oh, believe me, he’s coming,” Roy snapped. “Sleep with your hammer cocked is my opinion, if you sleep at all.” He looked away from his son, muttering, “Jesus.” He picked up the sign and looked at it for a moment before placing it back on the tailgate of the truck. “Alright, the truck goes in the ditch. Alvie behind the wheel. Tell Bruno to report the cause of death as accidental. Then… go to his fiancee’s and break the news.”

“What are you gonna do?” Gator wondered.

“Don’t worry about what I’m gonna do, alright?”

Incredulously, you looked up at your best friend’s father, releasing a quick breath to show your emotion. “Excuse Gator for being a little worried about his fucking father!”

“Doll, it’s okay,” Gator whispered.

Completely disregarding you, Roy spoke to his son. “You’re oh for two here, kid. How do I teach you how to be a winner, you keep losing all the time?”

Your anger started to bubble to the surface, all the adrenaline you were feeling from seeing a murder starting to take shape.

Gator, wanting to impress you still after all those years, says, “I swear to God, him versus me, man-to-man, I’d wipe the floor with him.”

“Yeah, right. Like High Noon? Only happens in the movies, son. Real life, they’ll slit your throat while waiting for the light to change.” He walks away back to his truck, starts it and takes off while Gator walks up to the tailgate and lifts it to close.

“I’d like to slit his fucking throat,” you muttered.

~~~

When Gator finished the tasks that his father had set for him, he started to drive you home in complete silence. Once you noticed that you two were almost at your never-ending driveway, you looked at Gator, and said, “I don’t want to go home. I don’t think I can be alone after what happened tonight.”

He didn’t say anything; just kept on driving. You had wished he played the radio so that he couldn’t hear your soft cries, but you felt his hand on your thigh, you knew had heard you.

Sighing, he squeezed your leg softly. “Doll, I’m–”

“No,” you said, sniffling. “Please don’t. Not right now.”

“Okay,” he whispered. He never moved his hand from your thigh; the placement feeling like… home to him. It felt like home to you, as well. You never wanted him to move it.

“Hey, G?”

“Yeah, dollface?”

“Back in high school–”

“Oh, shit. Here we go.”

Chuckling at his reaction, you looked over at him before your quiet laughter died out. “Uhm… did you hurt that one kid with the tire iron after you told me you wouldn’t?”

Gator went dead quiet, not wanting to say a word. Of course he did, but he didn’t tell you because you had stopped talking to him and hanging out with him. “Why you askin’?” “Because I heard a rumor that you did, and I want you to be straight with me and tell me the truth.”

Sighing, he lightly squeezed your thigh before parking the vehicle in his designated spot. It was quiet for a moment before he nodded his head and said, “Yeah. I did.”

“Gator–” you sighed.

“Listen, I wanted revenge on the little fucker. I coulda gone all the way if he hadn’t broken my leg. Woulda had–”

“A better life?” you asked.

Gator nodded, turning his head to look at you. “I felt like I didn’t have a choice.”

You turned in your seat to face him, cupping his face. “You listen to me, Gator. You always have a choice. Even now, you have a choice. Just because you’re 27 doesn’t mean your choices stop. Your whole fucking life is full of choices. You just have to make the right ones.”

“Can I make one now?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said, brows furrowed.

Without so much as another word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips on yours, giving you the kiss he’d been wanting to give you since you both were sophomores in high school. A kiss that you reveled in, and returned with great passion.

You hadn’t even realized that you climbed over the middle console to straddle his lap. Breaking the kiss for a moment for some much needed air, you breathlessly asked, “Are Karen and the girls home?”

Looking around you, Gator roamed his eyes across the yard, not seeing her car. “I don’t see her car, but she could’ve parked somewhere else.”

“Feel like moving this one somewhere else? Don’t want anyone seeing us, right?”

“Seeing us make out?”

Leaning your head down on his shoulder, you sighed out his name, feeling his shoulder shake from laughter.

“I don’t care if they see,” he said, lifting your head. “I’ve been waiting for this fucking moment since I saw you the other day. Ya’know, other than the times when we were teenagers.”

“You wanted to fuck me then?” you asked, his answer coming out as a nod. Lightly hitting him in the shoulder, you smiled and said, “Why didn’t you ever say anything? I would have!”

“Well, we can now,” he said. “Get your beautiful ass in the back.”

Giggling, you awkwardly made your way to the back seat, watching as Gator also made his way into the back with you, hitting his head on the vehicle’s ceiling a couple of times. Looking up at it, he muttered, “Motherfucker,” before wrapping his arm around your back to guide you to lay down as he kissed you.

You grabbed as his vest, doing your best to take it off before growling in frustration. “Get this fucking thing off, G. It’s pissing me off.”

He chuckled, sitting up the best he could without hitting his head… again. You watched him expertly take off his vest and accessories, biting your bottom lip. Reaching forward, you grabbed the bottom of his shirt not tucked into his pants and pulled up, removing the shirt off his torso. 

Leaning back over you, Gator kissed you with more heat than before, his cock starting to strain in his pants. Pulling back, he kissed your cheek and jaw, working his way down to your neck. “I can’t wait to fuck this pussy. I’ve been dreaming of it for years, dollface.”

“Fuck, Gator,” you whispered. Closing your eyes, you let your senses heighten at the feel of his lips  on your neck, whimpering when you felt him suck on your sweet spot, his tongue licking over the mark he just made.

“That’s to let everyone know that you’re mine, doll. No one else’s. Am I clear?”

Nodding, you opened your eyes, looking him dead in his. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Growling, he lifted you  up to remove your shirt and bra, his eyes going straight to your breasts before going back to your own eyes. Laying you back down, he caged your head between his forearms, gently brushing your hair back. 

“What?” you whispered, gently brushing your hands up and down his sides.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered back.

Looking down at the patch of hair on his chest, your reply of, “You’re only saying that because I’m topless and you saw my breasts.”

Gator put his finger under your chin and raised your head the slightest bit to look into your eyes. “Yes, your breasts are beautiful, but you, dollface, are more beautiful.”

Tears filled your eyes as you took in Gator’s words. You valued being called beautiful more than any other adjective people use to describe someone’s looks. “So are you.” At the look Gator gave you, it made you laugh.

“You’re, like… handsomely beautiful,” you added.

“Okay then,” Gator said, softly. Placing his lips on yours, he decided then and there that he was going to make you his, no matter what. Pulling back just a little, he whispered, “Just so you know, dollface, I won’t go slow. I will risk tipping this fucking truck over as I pound that pussy of yours.”

“O-Ooooohhhhh, shit,” you stuttered, watching as Gator unbuttoned and unzipped your pants.

He guided the material down your legs along with your panties, taking off each shoe to make it easier. Once you were completely naked underneath him, Gator did his best to finish undressing himself before reaching into the front of the truck to retrieve a condom from… wherever he was reaching, you couldn’t see.

As your eyes met his, you watched from your periphery as he rolled the condom onto his hard cock before leaned back over you, placing his lips on yours as he slowly, but not so gently entered you.

“O-o-o-o-oh, ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk,” you moaned, reaching up to grab the back of his head. True to his word, Gator started to pound your pussy with just force that the truck, indeed, started to shake. “Just like that, G. Oh, my god, don’t stop!”

To better balance himself above you to look into your eyes, Gator placed his palm on the window, adding to the shakes of the truck. “God, you’re incredible!” he moaned, cupping your face.

You’d dreamt of this moment since your senior year of high school, just months before you stopped talking to Gator. You had thought about breaking your own silence with him by asking him to have sex with you, but you refrained, sticking to your guns, especially after he broke his promise to you.

Gator leaned down and kissed your lips with such fervor, you almost forgot how to breathe. “Yeah, yeah,” he moaned. “Almost there? Almost there?”

You couldn’t speak, this moment with him feeling in-fucking-credible. “I’m almost there, Gator. Don’t stop! If you do-” Moan. “I’ll cut your fucking dick off and feed to you.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. His chuckle turned into a full on laugh when he heard pounding on the window above your head.

The both of you looked up, seeing none other than Roy Tillman standing there with your father, a look of shock on your face that quickly turned into one of pleasure as you felt Gator’s finger touch your clit.

“Fuck, Gator,” you moaned, not caring that your father was watching you get fucked.

“Gonna fuckin’ come for me, dollface?” Gator asked. “Gonna fuckin’ come all over this cock?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “I’m gonna come all over your cock. Oh, my god, I’m coming. Gator, I’m coming. I’m-” Your words were cut off with the loudest moan you’d ever done, loudly whimpering as your climax washed over you, your core turning sensitive. “Gator, I’m getting sens-”

“I’m almost there, dollface,” he groaned, dipping his head into your neck. Letting out a loud moan of his own after a few more thrusts, Gator was spilling into the condom, the both of you wishing it was you he was spilling into instead of the condom.

Gator decided to voice his thought, saying, “Fuck, that was amazing, dollface.” Looking up at you, he added, “But I wish I had come inside of your pussy rather this fuckin’ condom.”

Laughing, your hands cupped his cheeks, bringing him down towards your lips in a sweet kiss. 

Before the two of you could sit in the post-sex bliss, the knocking on the window sounded again, this time Roy’s voice coming through the window as he asked, “You two done?”

Looking from Gator to Roy, you replied, “I wouldn’t mind round two.”

“Get the hell out of the truck,” your father said, walking off. 

After your father and Roy walked off, you looked at Gator for a brief moment before the two started laughing, almost hysterically. “Come on, doll,” Gator said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed.”

About ten minutes later, the two of you were dressed and walking into the house, ignoring both of your father’s stares as you walked through the kitchen and to the stairs, where Gator had stopped you just to kiss you.

Pulling back, he looked at you, a slight smile on his face. “I’ve always loved you, dollface. Did you know that?” With a smile on your face, you leaned up just the slightest, a smile on your face as you replied. “Yes, and I you, Gator Tillman.”

Pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, Gator said, “Now, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna take you into my bedroom, eat this pussy until you’re coming all over my face, and then I’m gonna make the sweetest love to you before I pound that pussy once again until us and my sheets are covered in cum and sweat. What do you say?”

“I say…” You stepped up a couple of steps, now standing a little higher than Gator with a playful smirk on your face. “What are you waiting for, G?” Turning your back to him, you started walking up the stairs before looking back at him, squealing as you watched him run after you before you, too, bolted up the steps and into his room, ready for round two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! this is probably the longest standalone fic i've ever written, lol. let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: as i stated above with the triggers, i've never written anything like this before. some of these scenes were hard to write. if you did read and you were triggered by it, please do not send me any hate comments or messages in my inbox for something of mine you read knowing what the triggers were. i just let my imagination run and this is what it came up with it.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Gator Tillman Taglist: @ali-r3n​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines and plot, aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Noah Hawley.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on January 4, 2025

[madschiavelique]

I’m a gym girlie and I can imagine Jayce and reader dragging Viktor to the gym (or rather Jayce is like cmon let him come and she’s like whatever) for some physical therapy and he’s like woah she got lowk a nice ass…I incorporate way too much of this into my life hope you don’t mind thx 😛

oh my goodness, viktor would straight up melt. there's so much to exploit here

wrote this when i was half awake so sorry if it ain’t good but i had to do smth hihihi

viktor wasn't originally keen on going to the gym, especially when jayce was trying to convince him that working his arms would be a good idea, using the incredible argument that this way viktor could carry more books home.

when he heard from his friend that you would be there though, he wasn't as reluctant, and agreed to come along, telling jayce that he would probably watch or be on the side to read more than anything else.

but when he saw you, in a loose tracksuit and compressed black long sleeve T, he knew he wouldn’t touch his books for the couple hours to come.

jayce had started showing him how to do pull-ups, viktor’s attention far from the subject as he watched you, on the ground doing core strength. his eyes lingered on you, travelling the line of your body almost shamelessly, gliding on every curve…

“vik ? you’re with me ?” jayce checked, tapping him on the shoulder.

“what ?” he came out of hie contemplation, his eyes going from his friend to the bar in the air, awaiting his grip. “ah, yes.” that’s right, the exercise.

jayce repositioned the bar properly for him to reach, and viktor hesitantly grabbed it. he was barely off the ground, just a few centimetres above ground so that he could gently set his feet on it if he wanted to get down.

“perfect,” jayce smiled, “i’m gonna be here in a minute, gonna grab a water bottle.”

“wait, jayce-“ but his friend was already gone, leaving him to the dread of inanimate machines and failing at whatever exercise it was.

he had not listened a second to what his friend had said, but he’d figured after several long seconds that hanging in the air was not the goal of it. it must’ve been just like in these kids’ parks, where you have to move from bars to bars above the ground to get to another game.

he tried bringing himself up, with more difficulty than he thought. how the heck did jayce do this without showing an ounce of discomfort ? he had looked absolutely effortless during the few seconds of attention viktor had given him. he tried again, his arms slightly shaking. how could he be this weak ? how could lifting your own body be such a hard task ? he tried again, pressing his lips together as he was already preparing himself to get back on the ground.

“need some help ?”

he stiffened, his head turning to the side to meet you. you’d rolled up your sleeves, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him expecting his answer. you looked beautiful, hair a bit messy, your stance confident.

“i…” he didn’t know what to say, accepting his defeat against a simple bar of metal, or accepting his defeat in front of you.

“let me help.” you sighed, disappearing from his peripheral vision as you came behind him.

“what are you-“ his own question was cut by the answer of your warm fingers on his waist, gently grabbing him and maintaining him.

“you’ve got to place your hands wider,” you said, your thumb resting on his lower back. “they’re too close.”

you’re too close, he thought, warmth building up to his cheeks as he followed your advice.

“that’s it, now take a deep breath.”

i can’t, my heart is beating too fast just from feeling you. but still, he tried yet to do so.

“now when you’re going to exhale, you’re going to bring yourself up.”

he did so, and he could feel you helping, carrying him a bit for him to get his chin to the level of the bar.

“good, let’s try that again.” you encouraged.

so he did, again, and again, and again, trying his damn hardest not to solely focus on the feeling of your hands on his back and grabbing like that, until he asked to be brought back down.

he turned to you, regaining his breath slowly.

“thank you,” he managed to huff.

you nodded, understanding. his eyes couldn’t meet yours for more than half a second, the lingering feeling of your warm fingers wrapping around his waist omnipresent on his mind.

“hey,” you both turned to jayce who was just back, pointing with his thumb to the ring, “take me in a fight ?”

you smirked, “as if it was even a question.”

viktor followed you both until he sat in front of the ring, you both putting on your gloves. and the friendly fight started.

you had this determination in your eyes, this anger in your fists as you punched the targeted jayce, the sweat beading on your forehead gracefully as his glove barely managed to brush your side.

you located a punch in his tummy, bending him down under the shock as you locked your legs around him and made him fall to the ground.

“abandoning yet, talis ?” you breathed, an amused smile spreading on your lips.

maybe viktor should consider coming with you both at the gym more often.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can you please write about being jey and jimmy adoptive little sister (so we can feel more included about not looking like them honestly) , reader is like 18/19 and being completely heartbroken about the fact that all reader wanted was for her family to be together and now both jimmy and jey want attentions from her but she won’t chose and this thing is breaking her, and like she’s friend with rhea or the judgment day so she comfort her (sorry for my english i’m from poland!)

Thank you so much if you take my request

the usos x sister!reader

‼️fighting, reader having a panic attack and breaking down

broken pieces

you always had a special bond with jey and jimmy. you were their little sister and they felt overprotective about you. they didn’t want anything or anyone to cause you harm.

but what if they were the ones hurting you?

they both saw it on your face almost a year ago, when you were watching front row jey against roman at summerslam.

the betrayal on your face when jimmy sides with roman, hurting jey and hurting you. they both looked at you and realised something in you just broke.

jey was hurt and confused like you were. jimmy felt tears in his eyes when he met your heartbroken look. you were his baby sister after all, the one he promised to protect with his own life.

and now you couldn’t even stand to be in his presence.

but no matter what you tried to do, they now hated each others and that made you even more furious and sad. those big men were your big brothers, your bodyguards, the people you loved the most and now all you had was a broken family.

almost a year later and things didn’t got any better, in fact, their constant beefing backstage was tiring anyone.

“i can’t believe this” jimmy kept screaming as he wanted to punch jey right in the face.

you didn’t even know where this argument started from but, like every single time you found yourself stuck in the middle of it.

“if only you weren’t so self centred…” jey screamed back at jimmy.

“me? me? are you fucking serious? me? self centred? aren’t you the one going around and wanting to be called main event?” jimmy laughed “so i am the self centred one uh?”

“you going crazy man!” jey spat back “are you planning to ruin every single moment of my career like you’re doing every week on live tv man?”

“stop it stop it stop it!” you screamed at them. you were witnessing this stupid fight and knowing you couldn’t do anything to get to stop was hurting you. so, as you predicted, they kept screaming at each others.

“i ain’t ruining no one’s moment man, it’s just you who can’t accept some people are way better that you anyway” jimmy responded back, making jey laugh.

“so you’re better that me? that’s funny man, so why, if you’re that better than me, why, aren’t you getting booked? uh? cat got your tongue man?” jey sarcastically laughed making jimmy angrier.

you couldn’t stay there any longer.

“fucking stop it!” you screamed once again, tears falling from your eyes “stop fighting like goddamn children! i-i can’t do this anymore, i really can’t” you looked at both at them “all you do is fighting and fighting and i can’t do this anymore…i just want my family back”

jey, sensing your anxiety, tried to take a few steps close to you but you stepped back, not wanting to be close to anyone.

“i’m so sorry y/n…” jimmy apologised, hating to see you cry and hating himself even more, knowing he’s the reason you are crying.

“i don’t care if you are sorry! you always say you guys are sorry and then fight again and again and again and i can’t deal with this shit anymore! i just want my brothers back…i-i…” you were having trouble breathing “i just want this to be over”

“y/n, love, why don’t you sit down a little?” jey suggested when he saw you were struggling to breathe. he knew your anxiety and he knew you struggled with panic attacks and he was hating himself for being the reason you were struggling right now.

“no! no i don’t wanna sit here and hear you fight again! i-i…i don’t wanna…” your head was dizzy and the look jimmy gave jey made them understand each other without sharing a word.

“sit here love…” jey slowly walked you towards the little black leather couch inside his changing room “breath with me y/n…” you did as jey told you to do and you felt all the energy leaving your body.

“you feeling better?” jimmy asked, sitting next to you while jey was knelt in front of your sat position.

“why do you have to keep fighting?” you asked them, your voice breaking a little, now your tears falling down your face again “and don’t say you’re sorry” you warned jimmy.

“we will try to stop okay?” jey smiled at you. deep down he knew he couldn’t keep fighting with his brother forever but at the same time it was hard for him to forgive him so quickly.

“i don’t want a “we will try” jey, i want my brothers back…i want to spend time with you together like we did last year…” you cried harder, your breathing getting worse again “you just don’t understand this…i-i hate seeing you fight every day, i hate seeing you punching yourselves, i fucking hate having to share days with you like you are my divorced parents!”

“hey hey keep breathing slowly sweetheart” jey reminded you.

jimmy and jey both had no idea how this family feud was affecting you. they just discovered it now and they were both hating themselves for hurting you that much.

“you just don’t understand…” you whispered.

“no words can’t express how sorry i am love…” jimmy softly whispered with teary eyes. seeing you having a panic attack was the worst thing he ever witnessed. you were his baby sister who he was meant to protect so why would he hurt you that much?

same thing was for jey.

“i just miss you…” your voice broke a little.

jey cursed himself “i know things between us aren’t the best but our feelings for you will never change. no matter what, you will always be our baby sister and we’ll love you forever…i will try my best to not fight with jimmy okay?” you simply nodded while his soft hand wiped your tears away.

“i promise you we will be better” jimmy went and you nodded again, being happy with their responses.

“now, i’m pretty sure you have work to do so i’ll go back to my hotel room…but, if you’re free tonight can we have a movie marathon like we always did when i was younger?” you asked them, hope sparkling in your eyes.

they couldn’t say not to that.

so they said yes.

they knew they had a lot of work to do, especially when it came to them but, no matter the circumstances, they would always have your back.