#but like. is it weird that i’m sitting here like ‘eh he’s fine’

[plusultraetc]

426

guys don’t worry dabi will be fine when shigaraki returns somehow with both aspects of overhaul instead of just decay he can use it to heal him and spinner and toga and be the league’s hero also kurogiri is fine

[iluvzaddies]

imma need some tommy shelby w equestrian!reader omg like anything

(i’m a sucker for this man)

admiration

pairing: thomas shelby x equestrian!reader

warnings: none, just tommy fanboying over reader

summary: you are the first woman to ever join and win a horse-racing competition. thomas shelby, who loves horses, deeply admires you and your skills. you meet him in a pub called the garrison and there, you witness his admiration.

“well, i’ll be… win after win. victory after victory. all in different places. proud to say this woman’s a birmingham resident.” arthur shelby said as he held up a newspaper, a cigar in his mouth.

“i’m guessing it’s about that (y/n) (l/n) girl, eh?” polly gray or aunt poll as the shelbys liked to call her, asked as she downed a glass of whiskey. “she’s become quite the hot topic.”

“oh, she’s hot, alright.” john shelby smirked, fiddling with the cigarette in between his two fingers. “still a turn on despite wearing fucking trousers all the damn time.”

“john.” thomas shelby warned, not wanting to hear sexual remarks about you, especially from his own brother.

thomas admired you. how could he not? you were the one who raced his beloved horse, monaghan boy, and brought victory to his name.

he hadn’t gotten the chance to meet you yet. unfortunately. he wondered when you would be done with your little world tour and back in birmingham.

but lo and behold, you stood there at the entrance of the pub, wearing a loose blouse and a pair of trousers as you always do.

“what can i get for you?” grace, the new irish barmaid, noticed your presence and asked.

“you choose. i’m fine with anything.”

“you look worn out.” grace pointed out.

you did look worn out, like you hadn’t had a wink of sleep in ages, but you were beautiful nonetheless. actually, more beautiful than thomas imagined. he stared at you, mouth slightly agape, captivated by the mere sight of you.

“been rough for the past couple of months.” you sighed. “traveling, competing, attending social events. haven’t gotten much sleep.”

“i see.” grace nodded, pouring whiskey into a glass and handing it to you.

thomas couldn’t believe it.

you were here.

in the garrison.

in the flesh.

“well, aren’t you gonna talk to her?” aunt poll raised her brow at thomas, who couldn’t get his eyes off you.

“if you aren’t then i will.” john volunteered.

thomas quickly snapped out of his daze, whipping his head to john. “no.” he pushed his seat back and stood up.

“i never thought i’d see the day tommy boy falls in love.” arthur chuckled.

“i thought he was in love with the new barmaid.” john scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. he was upset that his older brother wouldn’t allow him to talk to you let alone talk about you.

“apparently not.” aunt poll shook her head as thomas eagerly made his way towards you.

“how much for the drink?” you questioned.

“it’s–“ grace was cut off by a deep voice, belonging to the one and only thomas shelby.

“–it’s on the house, ms (l/n).”

“mr shelby.” you shot him a look of surprise. you had forgotten the shelbys practically owned the place.

“leave us be, grace.” he ordered the barmaid and she followed, resuming back to her duties and leaving you two alone.

“here. take a seat.” he pulled out a chair.

you did as told and he pulled out another chair, sitting across from you.

you took a sip out of your glass. “you’ve some fine whiskey, mr shelby.” then looked around the dimly lit pub. “nice looking place as well.”

“please, call me thomas.”

“okay… thomas. call me (y/n) then.” it felt weird to call him by his actual name. you had only just met and he already wanted to be on a first name basis.

“so, what brings you here, (y/n)?”

“felt a little homesick.” you shrugged.

“no, i mean, in the garrison.”

“oh, it’s been a while since i drank. i wanted a drink, so i went to the nearest pub. why?”

“nothing. just curious.”

“is that all you have to say to me, mr sh– thomas?”

“do you enjoy racing horses?”

you hesitated. “the fame can be overwhelming. i love racing horses, it’s my passion, it’s what i do… but i want to be away from people… just for a little while.”

“fame can be overwhelming, yes. i know a thing or two about that feeling. only difference is i’m not famous for being a horse jockey, i’m famous for being a gangster.” he joked. the thomas shelby, the man who always had a straight face, made a joke.

you let out a laugh. a sincere one.

god, your laughter sounded like music to his ears.

“i can’t believe i’m having a decent conversation with one.”

“we gangsters are capable of having decent conversations only with the ones who deserve it.”

you let out another laugh. “goodness. if that’s the case, i’m glad you approve of me.”

“you raced my horse, after all.” he reminded.

“monaghan boy.“ you remembered the beautiful, black horse that you were assigned to race. the horse that led you to fame. “he’s a good boy.”

“aye, that he is.” he agreed.

“you know, thomas, you’re not half-bad.”

he found himself gleaming, enjoying every bit of the conversation, whilst the two shelby siblings and their aunt watched the scene unfold from afar.

you took another sip of the whiskey, humming at the taste, while thomas lit up a cigarette.

then, came silence.

none of you spoke a word, but you enjoyed each other’s company. it was evident in the way you looked at each other. you looked at each other as if you were the only people in the room.

“i’d like to take you somewhere tomorrow.” he suddenly said, breaking the silence.

“oh.” you perked up. “where?”

“the stables. let’s race, you and i. no audience. it’ll be just the two of us.” he proposed.

“is that a date?” when he didn’t deny it, you couldn’t fight off the smile that was making its way to your lips. “you’re rather bold, aren’t you, thomas?”

“what’s your answer?”

“i’ll have to check my schedule first…” you trailed off, but then you decided, why not? it sounded like a good offer. “you know what. fuck it. sure.”

thomas grinned at your rebellious behavior.

“what do you think about two in the afternoon?”

“fine with me.”

uncharacteristically, thomas’ heart fluttered. it had never done that before. it was an odd sensation yet it felt good at the same time.

you informed him your address, so he knew where to pick you up. “need me to write it down or you got it?”

“i got it.” he reassured.

you finished your drink and got up. “it was lovely talking to you. thank you for the drink.” you began walking towards the exit, but before stepping outside, you turned to look at him and uttered. “see you at my doorstep tomorrow, thomas.”

“see you tomorrow, (y/n).”

[maplegracefour]

Two Idiots and a Wedding | Part One

Summary: When the invitation for your cousin’s wedding arrives, and you see that bold ‘+1’ you sigh, remembering the white lie you had told her about seeing someone. You realise that you’re not getting out of it and that you’re going to have to figure something out…

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~845 Words

Author's Note: Here it is! There's more to come and I know it's short, I've just been super busy with work and some family things. But rest assured more is on the way!!

“No, absolutely fucking not.” He says, staring you down as though you had grown a second head.

You sigh. “Please. I’m begging you, Ted already said no!” You look over at him, his brow is furrowed and he’s leaning forward, hands clasped together as he stares right back at him.

He raises an eyebrow at that though. “You asked Ted first?”

Head cocked to the side, you give him a confused expression in response.

A moment of silence weighs heavily between you. You aren’t quite sure if he’s offended that you asked Ted before him. Your eyes plead with him silently, fingers crossed on top of your lap.

“I’ll pay for everything?” You offer. A desperate last offer. “Flights, accommodation, drinks, food. Literally everything.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into the couch, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Why did you tell them you had a boyfriend when you didn’t?” He asks you at the airport and you have to try and not let your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I just didn’t know what to say when they asked me about a plus one. I panicked.” You explain.

“Right.” He says, not fully convinced. “So, because you were put on the spot, you lied?”

When he glances over at you, you’re looking extremely unimpressed. “I never claimed it was a good idea.”

He chuckles, slipping his headphones back on and shaking his head.

On the flight, you give him a full rundown on the family, and the friends. Essentially anyone who he should already know. You work on a game plan. The closer you get to your destination, the more nervous you become.

“Anything off limits?” You ask. “Any boundaries?”

“Boundaries?” He raises an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, like no kissing, no hand-holding. Any names or anything like that?” You explain yourself.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.“ He shrugs. “Maybe kissing would make things a little weird.” He says. 

You nod, understanding fully. “Kissing is off the table.”

The flight is smooth, thank goodness. And you land safely in the airport. As you make your way to the car hire centre, you notice Schlatt making an extra effort to walk closer to you than usual, your arms brushing often, occasionally even feeling his knuckles gently tap yours as you walk side by side. You choose not to think anything of it.

Once in the car, you make your way to the hotel. Schlatt drives, letting you sit in your nerves in the passenger seat, unsure if it’s making it easier or worse.

Your knee bounces involuntarily, eyes trailing across the constantly moving landscape in an attempt to distract yourself. For a while, you don’t notice Schlatt’s hand resting on your knee, the bouncing immediately coming to a halt.

You turn to look at him, eyebrows furrowing. His other hand is draped lazily on the wheel as he glances back at you for a moment. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous, they’re your family.” He says after a few moments of heavy silence.

“My family that I’m about to lie to constantly for 3 days straight. And I’m a terrible liar.” You note.

“Eh,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “People have lied about worse. And it’s okay, I’m a pretty good liar, so we balance each other out.” He gives your knee a squeeze and you pretend not to notice.

Pulling up to the hotel, you notice how grand it is. You’re glad, because it had cost a lot of fucking money.

You both walk into the hotel lobby, Schlatt takes all the bags because ‘that’s the boyfriend’s job’. You roll your eyes in response.

“I’m so sorry, there has been a mix-up with our bookings.” The receptionist says when you reach the desk to book in. Frowning, Schlatt looks at you.

“So, what does that mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“The system double booked all of our twin rooms, we have executive rooms available which we can offer to you for no extra price.” She offers, sheepishly smiling up at you. She looks like she’s had a long day, you can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

You sigh softly, brushing your hair from your face. “An executive room will be fine.” You nod, giving her a sympathetic smile.

You check into your new room, taking the keys and silently, Schlatt and yourself make your way up. You hadn’t heard of an executive room but it sounds fancy.

But as you step into the room, you realise why Schlatt has been so quiet. The room, despite being absolutely gorgeous, only has one bed.

He turns to you, putting the bags down as the door clicks closed. “So, how do you want to do this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

PART TWO HERE

[lostgirl677]

Negan's wife

One-shot

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Established relationship

Masterlist

TW: language, sexual comments, near assault, violence, blood

A/N: this is the first time I write for Daryl Dixon and I'm a bit nervous. I hope I did okay

Since that fateful night, I’ve been locked up here, sitting alone on the bed, the only furniture of this weird room. I didn't even know how much time had passed. And no matter how many times I tried to force that damn door open, it wouldn’t move. I just let out an exasperated sigh as I sat on the floor. I didn’t know what Negan had in mind when he took both Daryl and I with him, but it sure meant trouble. But the worst part was that I didn't know where Daryl was and if he was okay. I haven't seen him since they unloaded us from that truck. So here I was, alone and scared. Not scared for myself but for Daryl, for our people. I still had the images of the bloodied corpses of our friends, laying there. But instead of letting myself go insane, I tried to focus on what I could do to get Daryl back and to run away from this place. And I would have to be creative since they took all my weapons.

As I was lost in my thoughts, I suddenly perceived the noise of footsteps coming near my cell. My heartbeat quickens, ready for a fight if needed. I promptly jumped on the bed to get as far as I could from whoever entered the room. I heard a key unlocking the door and as the handle turned, I could feel my heart beating in my throat. When the door opened, The first people I saw were some of his goons. After each four of them entered and placed themselves on each side of the door, Negan entered. How I wish I could erase the smirk on his face with my crowbar. He snapped his gloved fingers and one of his goons, Dwight,came next to me and put a black dress next to me. I threw a look at the dress and then at Negan. His smile grew bigger. 

Anger filled my veins when I noticed that Dwight wore Daryl’s clothes. I jumped on my feet and asked “What do you want? Where’s Daryl? Why does this fucker wear his clothes?” “Damn! This guy may never shower but he sure as hell has a fine taste in women.”Negan said, practically undressing me with his eyes as I stood up. He smiled at me and said “Calm down sweetheart. No need to get your panties in a twist. We are civilized people, we can talk calmly.” I scoffed at ‘civilized’, which made him smile even more. He then said “To answer your first question, I’m here to make you one of my wives, hence the black dress.” I grabbed the dress and threw it at him “You can shove it in your ass!” I screamed as he caught the dress mid-air. “Language, sweetheart. Damn! I like you.” I just gave the middle finger with a forced smile. He smiled and then continued “To answer your second question, Daryl is taken care of and..” “If you lay as much of a hand on him, I'll kill you all.”, I said, getting dangerously close to him. “Eh! Don't worry sweetie, I never do the dirty job. But you might like to talk to Dwighty-boy here. He's the one in charge of your lover’s captivity.” I turned my head to my left to throw the blond guy the dirtiest look I could. Dwight seemed to gulp as I kept looking at him.

It seemed to amuse Negan as he looked at the both of us. “Oh, I see you already met. Good, then you’re already familiar with some people here.To answer your last question, D. got promoted. He was allowed to take your dirty biker’s stuff.” My blood was boiling at this point. I was already preparing my fist to punch Negan square in the face when he suddenly closed the distance between us and whispered in ear “You don’t want Daryl to become chow for the dead, right? Believe me, you want to be a good wife.” He was too close for my comfort. But I stayed stone faced, not dismissing the threat underlying his sweet talk. He then looked at me and added “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll look sexy as hell in the black dress.” He approached his hand to caress my hair but I smacked it as I kept looking at him straight in the eyes.”Don’t touch me!” I hissed through my gritted teeth. He laughed loudly, earning the laughs of the guys behind him “And she's feisty too. I made the right choice choosing you, sweetheart.” We kept eye contact until he broke it to call his goons. “See you tomorrow, darling.” He said one last time, winking at me as he closed the door and locked it.

Instead of sleeping, I spent the night trying to find a way to negotiate with him. Or even a plan to find Daryl and escape with him. But the only way was to bluff or just blatantly lie to get what I want. And after hours of racking my brain for a solution, I decided something.I just hoped it worked the way I wanted to. All I could do was to hope that Daryl was still alive.

In the morning, I heard someone unlocking my door. I readied myself to attack just in case, my breathing getting louder as my heartbeat was going crazy. Then Dwight appeared, with a huge grin on his half-burned face and a tray of food in  hands. “Hello, Y/N. You slept well?” I threw him a look and replied “Go to Hell.” He chuckled and said “Guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” I didn’t reply, just threw him a dirty look. Then I noticed. All I could see was fresh blood on Daryl’s clothes. Seeing red suddenly, I jumped on him, grabbing Daryl’s shirt and screamed “What did you do to him?! What did you do?!” He had let go of the tray in a noise of broken dishes and seemed panicked. He tried to get free from my grip but I was too angry to let go that easily. “Answer me! What did you do to Daryl?!” 

“Y/N, calm down!” It made me even more angry, so angry that I kicked him in the balls. He fell to the floor with a less than virile scream. As he clutched his privates with one hand, he used the other to reach a pocket in Daryl’s shirt and got a small box out of it that he threw at my feet. He then said through laboured breathes ”The fucker apparently wanted to pop the question. Too bad he’ll never get to.” I grabbed the box and kicked him harder in the ribcage. And I kept hitting him, adding blood on Daryl’s clothes. I would have killed him if some other guys hadn’t heard his screams. I was blinded by a devastating anger, I couldn’t stop myself. Until one of these guys grabbed me by the shoulders to get me away from Dwight. The goons threw me violently on the bed and helped Dwight up. With that, they locked the door again.

As the anger slowly passed, I suddenly realized how reckless I’ve been. I was sure that Dwight would torture Daryl even more. I curled on the bed, clutching the tiny box in my hand. Daryl wanted to propose to me. He really loved me this much. This statement was a shock to me. In another world, we would have a real wedding with all our friends alive and well. This brought tears in my eyes that I quickly wiped as I heard the door opening again. I didn’t know how much time had passed, again. But it sounded like trouble. Just like the last time, Negan appeared with his goons, including a bloodied Dwight. It was the moment to take action.

“Well, well, well. Hello Y/N. Heard you had one hell of a morning.” he said in his insufferable sing-along tone. Instead of replying, I got closer to him, stood straight and looked him in the eyes when I said “If i become one of your wives, you let Daryl go” His smile didn’t falter but grew bigger. “Very straightforward I see. I like that. But, well sweetheart, it’s not a question to ask.” I stayed with an emotionless face when I declared with determination “I wasn't asking. I'm telling you  how it's gonna be.” Much to my irritation, Negan laughed loudly.”Aren’t you a confident one, darling?” He said as he booped my nose. I immediately slapped his hand out of my face.He wasn’t even upset by my gesture and said “Bold of you sweetheart. I don’t know how it works with Rick. But I’m afraid that it's not how it works here.”

Instead of getting angry, I tried to hold my wrath inside and said “If you don't want me to raise hell, you better accept”. He giggled and leaned his hands to his knees to look at me. “.What are you gonna do, huh? You are alone here sweetie. And loverboy won’t help you.” he cooed as if he was talking to a pretty stupid little girl. How much I wanted to punch him. But I had to remain calm, somehow. Dwight suddenly said “Uh, Negan? She’s really violent”. He was instinctively protecting his junk just in case. It made me smirk “See ? Listen to Freddy Krueger over here. He knows what I'm talking about” I said, pointing at him. Negan threw Dwight a condescending glance before turning his attention back at me, smiling brightly.``Well, you really have fire inside. I’m definitely keeping you”. He said with a laugh.”Well, it was good to have a laugh. Now, put your dress on and get ready. Someone will come to get you in ten minutes.” He said as he got out of the room rapidly.

As I zipped the dress, I tried to ponder whether I should put Daryl’s ring on my finger or not. I didn’t want Negan to take it from me. But I decided to keep it hidden on my necklace.He already took the man I love away from me. I had to act carefully, now. I didn’t know what they were doing to Daryl, but it sure fueled my nightmares. We’ve been through everything since Atlanta and it took one asshole with a barbeled bat to separate us. When I’d get the opportunity, I’d definitely gut Negan. I swore it to myself and to Daryl. I heard the door getting unlocked again and a giant guy came to get me.

The walk to my mysterious destination was quite chilling. The corridors had a cold atmosphere to them. It wasn’t welcoming. Hell, even the prison seemed more cozy than this. As we walked in the maze-like building, something suddenly caught my attention out of the corner of my eyes. Brown long hair and blue eyes. I swiftly snapped my head to see Dwight pushing  someone violently in a small room. It was Daryl, I knew it. Thus, I tried to sneak away from the giant guy to run in the direction of the room but he caught me by the arm. “Where do you think you’re going, doll?” he said as he dragged me away. I could hear an irritating song blasting from here. That’s where they were keeping him. I then swore to myself to note the path we took to find his cell next time.

When giant guy pushed the door in front of us, I caught a glimpse of the room. There were sofas everywhere as well as bottles of alcohol. And there were at least ten very attractive women dressed in the same kind of dress as me. He left me here and got back to whatever was his job. I quickly felt uneasy when all the women snapped their heads to look at me. I felt really awkward to be the center of attention so I tried to find a quiet place in the room. They didn’t even try to come to talk to me, which was fine by me. All I had in mind was the glimpse of Daryl I had in the corridor. His back was almost arched. I never saw him like that, even at his worst. They were breaking him, destroying him completely. I couldn’t stand it. Tears were brought to my eyes again as the images kept replaying in my mind. I just closed them to keep me from crying. “Hey! You okay?” asked a woman’s voice next to me. 

Surprised, I opened my eyes and wiped them with the back of my hand. And I looked at the mysterious woman. She was a brunette with brown eyes. “Uh, yeah, yeah. It’s okay. I’m okay.” She looked at me emphatically and said “I’m Sherry. Aren’t you Daryl’s girlfriend?” I almost gasped. “What? You know him?” She looked at me a bit embarrassed. “Well, let’s say we met in the woods.” “You’re the one who stole his crossbow and his bike!” I exclaimed, suddenly understanding. She seemed even more embarrassed. “Well, you mugged my husband earlier today. Let’s say we’re even.” I almost choked. “You’re married to that scumbag?! The very one torturing Daryl, right now?!” I said angrily even though it wasn’t her fault. “Yeah, I was. Now I’m Negan’s wife. Just like you.” I felt like I could trust her, somehow. But I couldn’t risk anything here.I was sure there were snitches waiting for some intel to give to Negan. So I just nodded my head and kept to myself.

I spent some time in silence, lost in my mind when I noticed that the sofa I was on dipped under someone's weight. “Hey! New girl.” I tried to focus again on the real world to see a beautiful woman next to me. “Yeah?” She smiled at me and said “Tonight’s your special night. You should get ready.” “What do you mean?” Confusion was probably written all over my face because she added “ Negan’s gonna mark you as officially his. We’re here to prepare you, he’s quite rough the first time. He gotta show you who’s in charge I guess” I felt the blood draining from my face. “You mean, he’s gonna…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. “ Yeah. But don’t worry. It’ll hurt for a few days then you’ll get used to it. Just be prepared psychologically.” I wanted to run away, as far as I could. But I had to pull through. For Daryl. He must never know about it.

The fateful moment was here. I was escorted to Negan’s room and was waiting for him to come. It was the moment to find a weapon quickly. I ran to his drawers and tried to rummage through his stuff. After fruitless effort, I finally pricked my finger to some kind of tiny knife.Relief washed over me as my fingers curled around it. It was tiny enough to hide it. But I didn’t have much time to think about it when I heard the doors. “Eager I see.” He said in a smug tone as he saw me next to his bed. I turned to face him. His smile was the most horrendous thing I saw in my life. This predatory look in his eyes, full of lust, disgusted me. He swiftly approached me and began to unzip my dress. I couldn’t help but try to get out of his reach. He paused and asked, surprised “What ? Don’t tell me Tough guy never touched you?” I turned my head to not see him. “ It's a sin, really.” And as he kept unzipping my dress he added “Well his loss.” And he let his hands wander on my body. I had to hold down my urge to throw up. Daryl would never do something like this without my consent. He would never treat me like this. But I had to play the game to get where I wanted. 

Negan made me face him. I was just waiting for him to get closer. My heartbeat quickened, it would be my moment soon. He was so focused on my breast that he didn’t see anything else. I wanted to punch him so hard but what was waiting for him was better. Swiftly, before he could react I got the knife out of the pocket of my dress to press it on his neck, next to the carotid. His eyes widened and he took his hands off me. But instead of panic, he seemed amused. What the hell was wrong with him? A trickle of blood was running down his neck.'' Why do you have to kill the vibe, uh missy? I thought we were getting cozy, here.” he said casually, as if I wasn’t threatening him at all.” As I was stucking the knife deeper in his skin, he swifty grabbed my hand to get the knife and added “Unless it’s some kind of kink?” He slowly  licked  the knife. HIs eyes were full of lust. Out of anger, I spat in his face. He wiped his face with an even bigger smile but there wasn’t any joy in it. “Well, you can’t tell I didn’t warn you last night.” 

The next thing I knew, he was dragging me half undressed and my hair in a mess through the cold corridors. He then stopped. “You only want the dirty redneck? Well, knock yourself out! I’ll come back later and I'll be less charming, believe me.” I locked eyes with him one last time and spat in his face again. WIthout any other word, he threw me in a cell. The first thing I noticed was the terrible smell. But the worst was him. Daryl was here. My heart broke when I saw him all curled up in a ball on the floor. “Daryl.” I called softly. But he didn’t react nor acknowledged my presence. “Daryl. Hey! It’s me, Y/N”. Carefully, I got closer to him and caressed his hair.I felt him stiffen at my contact.That’s when the tears finally escaped from my eyes.”What did they do to you?” I asked as I kept crying. Then I heard his broken voice ask quietly“Y/N? Ya real?”. I saw him slowly getting in a sitting position. “Yeah, it’s me.” Relief seemed to wash over him until he noticed my poor state. He tried to wipe my tears away. His rough hand never felt so soft on my skin. “What happened? What did he do to you?!” he asked anxiously, probably expecting the worst. “He didn’t…? Please tell me he didn’t. They kept tellin’ me horrendous things he did to ya. I’m gonna kill him.” I put my hand soothingly on his when I assured him. “No, he didn’t. Didn’t have the time.” Daryl sighed in relief.

He then approached his hand to my shoulder to get the fabric of the dress to hide my bra.Clumsily, his hand got untangled in my necklace and found the ring. His head dropped and he said “Was supposed to pop the question. But I don’t think..” “Yes, Daryl. I want to marry you.” I slowly got closer to him and kissed him as I was supposed to after all this time. “I don’t know how or when. But I’ll get us out of here. I promise."

A/N : feedback is welcome. I think I need advices to write Daryl correctly 😅

[bluepallilworld]

A Tear's Soul

Part 1: All is certainly well in this fine world

Mimosa barely had the time to register what was happening before he was warped elsewhere by his happy-go-lucky friend. 

He was used to Lint’s instantaneous portals with how often he had been ambushed but the sensation never failed to be truly bizarre.

It felt like dipping your toes in lukewarm water then suddenly you were drenched and dry at the same time. And in a random place you did not ask to go.

The instant the shock runned out of his system, Mimosa whirled around and hit Lint’s head with the side of his hand.

“LINT, COME ON! Couldn’t this at least wait after breakfast? I’m hungry…”

Lint’s only reaction was to giggle so hard she toppled down on the wooden floor.

“Where would be the fun in that? If you really wanted that breakfast, you should have woken up earlier!”

“...You would just have come even earlier if I did that, wouldn’t you?”

She smiled and stood up, whistling and buzzing around.

The kid sighed and started looking around.

Where were they?

The floor was wooden and a little dusty, the walls were pretty bare except for some weird unrecognizable knick-knacks on shelves. The room was small.

“Whom closet did you zap us in?”

Lint tsked and wiggled her finger in front of his face.

“You’re really”, she pointed to a big dent in a wall, “not a good detective, uh?” 

Mimosa stared hard at the dent. It looked a bit like a puppy’s face? It reminded him of when they played hide-and-seek with Mu’s at her second home and he just rammed his elbow so hard into a wall it damaged the wall. It didn't hurt but it left its mark on the house.

Wait.

He gasped at the realization.

“SINCE WHEN CAN YOU POP DIRECTLY INTO TODDH’S POCKET DIMENSION?!! I thought you couldn’t go farther than the entrance?”

He shook his friend hard in his barely contained excitation.

They were at Mu’s!!!

“Well, it took me a few tries. I’m not sure I’m welcome alone here anymore by the way?”

“Why did you teleport us here? I thought you’d wanted to go exploring or somethin?”

“...You told me you missed Mu and she wouldn’t come back for at least another week sooo.”

Mimosa hugged her. He did indeed miss his younger sister but he didn’t think it was that obvious.

“Eh, couldn’t have my best friend slash “half-brother-from-another-multiverse” mopping, now?”

He buried his head into her shoulder while she rubbed his back.

“We should get out of this closet and go look for your little princess, don’t you think?”

He nodded and pushed away the other to get to the door handle. He didn’t get that far as the girl shoved him away and opened the door first.

She runned out all while shouting:

“THE LAST ONE TO FIND HER IS WET NOODLE!”

And as he, for sure, didn’t want to be a wet noodle, the boy dashed at his turn and they raced through the long corridor, crashing into furniture and laughing their heads off.

Sadly, he tripped on one of his treacherous tentacles (a fairly common occurrence) and tumbled down quite fast with a yelp. His “friend” just snickered at his misfortune and disappeared behind a corner.

Aw, he didn’t want to be the wet noodle…

He plopped down against the floor, starfish-style, and examined his surroundings. He was still in a corridor. That house had too much of those. 

He craned his skull around to examine the few doors he could see from this angle.

Among the very unremarkable doors, one stood out. It was white with flowers painted all over it. The skill of the painting varied a lot and those near the bottom were merely child scribbles.

The skeleton propped himself on his elbows and stared at the door, right-sided.

It was Mu’s room.

Maybe the pasta fate would not befall on him in the end?

The slats creaked despite his best attempts to be sneaky and he cracked the door open a smidge before peeking inside.

A small skeleton was sitting there, playing on the ground with a hoop. Quiet, she was making it roll harshly against the floor until it hit the wall and got launched back at her. She then caught it with the tentacle wrapped cozily around her throat and shoulders and began the process anew.

There she was.

He readied himself to call her when a weight on his head startled him.

“FOUND HER! I WON!”, shouted Lint from above.

How did she even do that, she was slightly smaller than him! That thought was one of the many that went through his mind as she leaped over leaning on his shoulders.

Back to the ground.

Mu looked at them for a second, nodded, then went back to her game, unbothered.

Lint danced, chanting “wet noodle, wet noodle”, looking rather pleased.

He weakly protested that he found her first to which he got the counter argument; he didn't announce it first so that was null and void.

Fair.

They spent some time together, each doing their very own stuff.

Lint was trying to improve her cartwheels (with various success) all while chittering about some story he half-listened to, she tried to coax them into leaving for an adventure a few times but didn’t insist for once so she kept doing clumsy cartwheels.

Mu continued her game, focused on it, Mimosa ignored the action's goal but she was fully entranced by it (despite glancing in his direction a few times, probably wondering about what he was doing).

He was cutting paper shapes with scissors and gluing those to pins he found in a box. 

Once he was satisfied with the amount of paper shapes, he tapped gently on Mu’s shoulder to get her attention. She turned around and tilted her head before eyeing a notebook laying on the ground next to her.

“You don’t have to use your book if you don’t feel like it, I won’t ask complex questions.”

His mute sister nodded and gave him her whole attention.

He pointed at his work.

“Would you like it if I put some of these on your hat to keep company to your flower pin?”

Her eyelights grew two sizes before he even finished his sentence, she stuck her hands in the pockets on each extremity of the drooping bunny ears of her dark colored hat and excitedly moved up her arms, showing the paws design sewed on that side of the pockets.

“I’ll take that for a yes!”

Mu nodded so hard her hat would have flipped away if her hands weren’t still stuffed in.

He pointed to the paper shapes and asked her to point to the ones she’d like most.

She didn’t hesitate and picked anything vaguely flower shaped plus one that looked like a lemon (or an eye?). When he interrogated her on that choice, she just uncurled her tentacle, revealing the rest of her face and smiled.

“Ok, ok, sit there and don’t move.”

He started to stick the paper bits as carefully as he could and Lint joined him on the task soon after.

They did that for a moment, he had to stop Mu from wiggling too much a few times as she grew impatient and excited.

Once they were done and confident it would hold for long enough to be satisfying, they released the small monster and she all but ran to the mirror.

Watching her twirl around in joy released a special wave of warmth in his soul. Those moments reminded him how lucky he was to still have her, how lucky he was that Fancy and the one before him found her when she had been lost and how lucky they had been to be reunited during an unplanned playtrip. 

He saw Lint watching him thoughtful in the corner of his eyes but he didn’t call her out on that.

However, when she turned her gaze back toward the mirror anew and her eyelights shrieked to almost pinpoints.

Uh?

He turned his head to discover an absence of any twirling sister and shot up.

“Where?”

Something poked his shoulder.

Lint was in front of him.

He turned around.

Nothing.

Lint was glaring at random corners.

Poc.

He looked to his left then more thoroughly to his right.

Then he was promptly yoinked from the ground by something above.

“AH-”

A hand stopped his shout and he looked at his aggressor’s face.

…Nip. 

The dark-boned-mixed-rabbit-skeleton grinned at him and made a sign to keep quiet. He reluctantly nodded and fred his mouth. 

Nipal was a strange fellow that liked far too much scaring others in his opinion, but it came with the fact he had been born from a bad dream he guessed.

Other than that, he was pretty okay.

And also holding him with a leg while crouched on all four on the ceiling.

Nip giggled silently and he watched Lint getting more and more agitated on the ground.

She was looking everywhere for them and despite glancing up a few times, Nip always moved just in time to hide from her sight.

The demon was talented in this stuff.

Nip moved towards a wall and put him on the top of a closet using only one floating hand. Mu was already waiting there and looked absolutely giddy at the event.

Nip went back to tormenting Lint and one of the puffy ends of his bunny ears almost smacked him when he turned.

Hm. Mimosa got himself comfy to admire the chaos. 

He shrugged.

That might as well happen.

Nip played for another five minutes at pocking the distraught girl running around on the floor before leaping behind her, shifting his form to a huge furry rabbit monster and caught her from behind in a hug.

Lint screamed bloody murder and Mu drew a line in her notebook. He peeked at the page… 15 was scribbled next to a vaguely bunny shaped scribble and a bit fat zero next to three bows. It looked like she had been keeping score.

He giggled. Hopefully Lint won’t see that.

This one was now hitting and biting the smug adult -to be confirmed, Nip always lied when they asked his age. 

After a bit of shifting and a whole lot of being picked up and scaling things for no reason, they all finally ended up all sitting in the center of the room.

Nipal Twees, once again in his more regular shape, clapped his hands together.

“That was amusing, how are you guys doing?”

He did not wait for their answer as he wiggled his left ear, distracting little Mu that was sitting on his lap.

“Now, kids, Toddh went out to get Fancy. Boy is taking a bit long to bring back groceries.”

Where was he going with that?

“...Kitchen’s free, who wanna bake? Badly of course!”

They answered their agreement, loudly. 

What a good idea, he was famished.

And like that, they made a beeline for the kitchen and promptly started to try baking… something…

They didn’t have any recipe and Fancy’s cookbook was creepy so they boycotted that idea.

Each busied themselves with a task they thought would help making… something?

The result was barely palatable and the kitchen was very close to what someone would consider “ruined”. 

He would not talk about the general state of their outfits. The aprons they put on had been near useless in keeping the mess at bay.

They made a game of trying to eat the biggest part without making faces. Nip was quickly banned from playing as he was unbothered by the taste and even claimed to enjoy it.

The sound of keys in a door made them all freeze.

Toddh was back.

annnnd that's the end of part one 🎶

*******************************************************

Shine, Malignance, Bow/Butterfly and Calligraphy (mentioned) belong to @creative-firebug <3

The rest is mine owu

Tagging as requested: @shinechermont

(if someone desires to be tagged in the other parts, tell me (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) )

👉👈tagging @zu-is-here because the whole idea of that project was born because of a discussion I had with her (no I'm not telling what it was about) (zuz tell me if you want me to tag you in the other parts or not :D)

bonus:

I thought it'd be fun to put a link to the first time I put Mimosa in a comic (almost 4 years ago), I have evolved a bit

[freesia-writes]

Ch 27: Reactivity

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.1k

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Song: “Young and Beautiful” by Lana Del Rey

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“Well that’s interesting,” Phee remarked, leaning back in her chair. Hunter had been unable to hide his “fuss face”, as she called it, and had been goaded into sharing what was bothering him. After recounting the tale of Lyra’s return, as well as her side of the story, he stared at his plate of food to avoid meeting the multiple pairs of eyes fixed on him. Omega was still on Plata, but the rest were gathered for family dinner as usual at Tech and Phee’s house. 

“That does appear to be quite a number of unfortunate misunderstandings,” Tech agreed. “Anyway, remember that blossom you received in the cave?” 

“Smooth transition,” Phee said with a smile. 

“Apologies for any insensitivity,” he muttered, trying and failing to stifle the urge to roll his eyes. “However, Hunter is no stranger to things not going as anticipated.”

“Low blow,” Crosshair chipped in. 

“Alright, well, I am sorry for your pain, Hunter. As for the blossom, Phee and I worked on deciphering its runes for quite a while, and then, to be honest, it was somewhat forgotten as we tackled a new endeavor together.”

“Is that what you’re calling it nowadays?” Echo asked with a suggestive eyebrow.

“If you are referring to intercourse,” Tech answered, unfazed, “the answer is no. We call it intercourse.” 

“He really knows how to set the mood,” Phee murmured, winking at Echo as he choked on an ill-timed sip of water. 

“Anyway,” Tech continued, exasperated at the repeated derailing of his train of thought. “We consulted one of the Xyloan elders, who responded to the somewhat supernatural news of its origin with virtually no surprise, and she read the message on the petals with ease.”

“And?”

“It is still somewhat cryptic, but it describes a pool here on the island that feeds into a waterfall, and if the blossom is placed into the waters and its owner bathes in the cascade below, he shall receive insight into his deepest fears or conundrums.”

“Sounds like some weird Dathomir tale,” Wrecker muttered.

“Perhaps, but the unique circumstances in which Hunter received the flower, reminiscent of our adventure on Skara Nal, suggests that there may be more to it than a simple children’s fantasy,” Tech said.

“Well? Gonna check it out?” Wrecker asked, looking at Hunter as he glowered in the corner. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he evaded.

“Well. I shall determine its precise location and provide specific coordinates, should you find the proper impetus to pursue it,” Tech nodded, lifting his finger in the air as another thought arrived. “Ah, also, I thought you should know… I did find a narrowly-published article regarding the death of Lyra and Breslin, which we now know to be feigned.. It seems they were successful in removing themselves from the Empire’s list of known traitors, therefore any bounty that may have been on their heads would have been canceled.”

“Clever,” said Hunter.

“It was effective. However, I did dig further into the records regarding Lyra’s imprisonment, and there do seem to be some inconsistencies as to the precise nature of her crimes… I found it fascinating that–”

“I don’t really want to hear it, Tech.”

It wasn’t open for discussion, and the bespectacled clone studied his angsty brother for a moment, then nodded and turned to Echo to change the subject to the training academy’s expansion. Wrecker waited for their conversation to pick up, then leaned over to Hunter and spoke in a low voice.

“You’re really torn up about all of this, eh?”

“I’m fine, Wrecker,” Hunter insisted, face hardening slightly.

“Alright,” his brother conceded, sitting back a little. “I mean, I get it. It’s a lot of back n forth.”

“Yeah, and I’m tired of it,” Hunter admitted. Wrecker lowered his gaze to the table at the vehemence in his voice. 

“Well, you seem happy enough with Luci?” he offered inquisitively. “So maybe it’s just a lesson learned…”

“Yup.”

Wrecker reclined in his seat, considering Hunter with a thoughtful expression, then resumed eating his dinner. Crosshair, having watched the exchange from across the table, rolled his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, noting the curve of Hunter’s shoulders and the tension in his eyebrows. He exhaled softly through his nose, face revealing nothing, then nodded at whatever Tech had been saying.

* * * 

Luci squealed in delight as Hunter hung on for dear life, his arms wrapped around her waist as they shot through the waves on the ocean. She had borrowed a jet-speeder and invited him to straddle it behind her, cranking the handlebar and sending them careening out into the open sea. The wind was loud in his ears, nearly drowning out the sound of the engine, and he pressed his head against hers to hold her wild curls from smacking his face repeatedly. 

A large wave approached, curling out of the water below with an imposing swell, and Luci lined the jet-speeder up, rocketing them along its rolling barrel and out the other side as it crashed behind them. She whipped them around, perpendicular to the next wave, and hit the throttle again, shooting up and through it before slowing, soaked and exhilarated, on the other side. 

“You’re insane,” Hunter yelled in her ear, earning a full-bodied laugh as she angled the speeder to roll with the waves in a slightly calmer approach. 

“You love it,” she called back, releasing the handlebars with one hand to give the top of his thigh a squeeze. “You want to steer?” 

“Alright,” he agreed, surprising himself. But he knew a thing or two about piloting, and he had a feeling she would appreciate his skills. She carefully rose to her feet, straddling his side for a moment as he scooted forward, then nimbly swung her leg over the seat behind him and fit every inch of her body along his own, tucking her arms around his middle. She was an intoxicating mixture of warm and strong, and the sensation of their wet skin touching gave him a bubbly feeling in his core. “Hold on,” he said, and her little “ooh” in response to his authoritative tone made his chest swell just a tiny bit. He needed this. 

They tore across the ocean again, lost in the sheer delight of speed and thrill, and he navigated expertly through the waves until they were both completely tuckered out. Slowly cruising in toward the docks, they secured the jet-speeder and walked, arms around one another, up to the stairs leading into town, laughing freely as their wobbly sea-legs caused a few stumbles along the way. They emerged onto the stone sidewalk at the bottom of The Cobbles, the business district that consisted of one long street that rose in a steady incline across the side of the island, and paused, regarding one another with exhilarated fondness. 

“I’m starving,” Luci admitted, her thin wrap fluttering around her swimsuit. “Is it pasta time?”

“Apparently it’s always pasta time,” Hunter said wryly, flinching as she took a sudden, giggling swat at him. 

“Damn right!” she cheered, looping her arm through his. “Let’s go change – I have extra clothes at my house.”

“My extra clothes?” he asked, tilting his head quizzically.

“No, just generic extra clothes. You never know when you might need them,” she answered without the hint of a joke in her voice. 

“Do naked people show up at your apartment on a regular basis?”

“They don’t usually show up naked,” she grinned, giving him a coy wink as they wove their way through town. 

“Hmm.” He had nothing to say to that. She’d been completely transparent about who she was and what she enjoyed, and her unapologetic way of embodying herself without shame or regret was a refreshing change from most anyone else he had met throughout his life. It was clear that she wanted him and would go as far as he’d let her, but she also never pressed, and he was grateful for that. He didn’t know what was holding him back – their kisses were as incendiary as they were satisfying – but he wasn’t in any hurry to dive in, even despite his recent decision to try to “go with the flow”. 

She did indeed have some clothes in her apartment that fit him well, and as he rolled up the sleeves on the light blue linen shirt, she peeked around the doorway from her bedroom, catching his eye. He held his hands out to the sides, showing her the result, and she gave him a thumbs up before stepping out into the hallway and mimicking his position to show off her own ensemble. She wasn’t wearing much – he couldn’t tell if it was underwear or lingerie or a dress or what – but his mouth was immediately dry and he found himself taking a quick deep breath due to the sudden lack of oxygen he seemed to be experiencing. 

“Just for you,” she winked, vanishing again to finish getting ready. She came back out a while later, her hair falling in gentle waves down to the neckline of a dark blue satin dress that nearly reached her toes. He discovered that it had slits up either side when she approached with a dark look in her eyes, leaning into him and lifting up a leg to rest against his hip. He instinctively placed a hand on her thigh where the silky fabric had fallen from it, and as she ran a hand up his chest before pulling his head down for a deep kiss, he felt every nerve in his body light up. She stepped back, brushing the front of her dress and pulling her breasts up into perfectly-cupped cleavage, then turned to get her shoes. 

Hunter couldn’t believe the life he was living.

They tucked into their table at the restaurant, greeted warmly by the server that had come to recognize them both in their semi-regular visits, and Hunter relished the adorable look of surprise on Luci’s face when his order of drinks arrived – not the usual bottle of sparkling wine, but some fancy cocktails made of much stronger stuff. 

“Oh, you’re looking for some trouble tonight, are you?” she gasped after taking a large swallow that left her nearly coughing from the liquor blazing down her throat. 

“Never,” Hunter grinned, unfazed by his own sip. 

They ate and chatted, laughed and flirted. Dinner led to dessert. Luci dipped a dainty finger into the whipped cream between them, then slowly licked it off as she lifted her emerald eyes to his. Hunter felt a sudden need to cross his legs. She told stories of her adventures, asked him questions about his favorite foods, and the night drifted by in contented enjoyment. Beneath a velvet sky peppered with twinkling stars, he walked her home, weaving through the last vestiges of the nighttime market in the Town Square. His arm hung loosely around her shoulders, possessive yet relaxed, and she toyed with his waist as they watched the vendors putting away their goods while the few remaining customers finished their transactions. 

Luci stiffened suddenly with a small gasp, and Hunter followed her gaze to a stall across the square, feeling a sinking in the pit of his own stomach as well. Lyra was tucking something into her canvas bag, nodding in thanks to the owner and handing him some credits. She waved goodbye, dipping her head with yet more gratitude, then continued on her way. 

“She’s back?” Luci said, more dumbstruck than Hunter would have expected. 

“Guess so,” he muttered, steeling himself against the feelings that began to fester.

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully, a million more thoughts beneath that single word as she seemed to recover quickly from her disproportionate shock and vehemence.

They made out in an alleyway that night, then again on the doorstep of Luci’s apartment building. She teased and challenged, offered herself freely, appreciated every bit of him. It was a heady rush, and he felt intoxicated by the simple bliss of it all. The way she tugged on his shirt, the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, the little bite of her lip when he could hear her heart racing… It all invited him to let go. To be present. To leave the past behind. 

He extricated himself from her arms, his hair rumpled in every direction from her desperate hands roving through it, and stepped back with a shuddering sigh. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“Quite the opposite,” she purred, straightening herself as well. “You sure you don’t want to come up?”

“Yeah…” he said regretfully, confused at his own answer. 

“Okay,” she said softly, fingertips brushing along his cheek. “Hey…” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. “Let’s take a little trip. Want to?”

“What do you have in mind?” he murmured, leaning back in to press his lips to her neck. She was absolutely irresistible at times, and his entire body was alight with warm desire. 

“Hunter,” she whispered, sending a chill straight to his core with the breathy way she said his name. “You’re such a tease.”

“I thought that’s your job.” He smiled against her collarbone, pulling away with one last kiss. “Alright. Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s just go to Plata for a few days. There’s a big music festival. Good food. Pop-up nightclubs. Lots of people. It’ll be a blast.”

“That sounds awful,” he admitted, and yet somehow it didn’t sound awful at all, but represented an escape of sorts from the relentless tumult within. She giggled, nuzzling her face into his neck now as he shivered involuntarily. 

“It’ll be absolutely terrible,” she said, stroking the side of his face before resting her hand on his chest. 

“Deal.”

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Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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[harrywavycurly]

Sarah we need more Wayne so can we get some conversations with him when the reader is pregnant? I know he’d love to be a grandpa🥹😩💕

Hiii babes!! I hope you enjoy this and just know it made me all emotional so thanks for that 🫠💖

-Some of these are between him and Eddie and I marked those with a 🖤 the others are the reader talking to Wayne.

*Wayne is ready to be a grandpa and he always makes sure he has your snacks on hand*

🖤 “What did you just say?” “I said…you’re going to be a grandpa…or like whatever you want to be called? You don’t have to go by grandpa if you’re totally against it.” “A grandpa? You…two are going to be…parents?” “Fucking crazy right? I about blacked out when she told me.” “Good lord please let it be more like her I really don’t think I can handle another you.” “Hey! I wasn’t that bad…”

“Uncle Wayne do you have any pickles? Eddie ate my last one.” “Uh oh you didn’t kill him did you?” “No…just cried and made him go to the store.” “Well come on in and check the fridge darlin I think I have a whole jar full.” “Did he tell you he tried to slip Ozzy in as a possible name for the baby?” “How’d he handle it when you told him no?” “He pouted. Like full on stomped his feet and pouted.” “He’s always been that way, when he gets told no he storms off and makes a big scene. It was more entertaining when he was a toddler though…” “I think that’s why he ate my last pickle…out of retaliation.” “Send him over here when he gets home from the store.” “Ohh gonna talk some sense into him uncle Wayne?” “Don’t worry about it sweetheart just send him over okay?” “Will do! Thanks for the pickles!” “Anytime.”

🖤 “She cried in the middle of the mini mart yesterday.” “Well yeah she’s growing a whole human she’s gonna be a little more…emotional than normal.” “It was because the polar bear on the holiday Coke display was wearing a turtle neck…” “Oh don’t go acting like you didn’t cry at the zoo when I told you it was time to go and you wanted to watch those damn otters swim around some more.” “That’s different I was like five!” “Just let her have her moments okay? She needs you to be supportive not making fun of her.” “I’d never make fun of her it’s just…sometimes she just cries out of no where and I don’t know what to do.” “You just let her cry and hold her hand and tell her it’s okay. That’s all she needs from you.” “Okay…I can do that.”

“What the hell are you doin?” “I’m hanging pictures up? Eddie isn’t here and it’s been driving me absolutely crazy seeing them just sitting here so I figured I’d do it myself.” “Get down…now please.” “It’s just a step stool uncle Wayne it’s perfectly safe.” “Darlin you can barley walk on a flat surface without falling so please…just take my hand and step down okay? I’ll hang the pictures up.” “You and Eddie really are related. He says the exact same thing.” “You know he’d be freaking out if he saw you up there.” “Yeah one time he came home and I was standing on a chair to put some mugs away and I thought he was going to have a heart attack.” “You’re too far along to be climbing onto things and sure as shit too pregnant to be standing on chairs okay? Just call me if he’s gone and you need something hung up or need me to grab a mug off the top shelf.” “Fine.” “Now don’t go giving me that sad little pout. I know you like to be independent but it’s for your own safety okay? You’ll be back to scaling the counters and climbing step stools before you know it.”

🖤 “it’s…uh it’s a girl. We are having a girl…” “congrats Eddie I know you wanted a little girl.” “I’m going to be a girl dad…with the dolls and the tea parties and all the pink glittery shit girls like….” “I mean not all girls are into that kinda stuff but yeah…you’re gonna be a dad to a little girl. How do you feel?” “Like I’m going to royally fuck it up but also I’m …excited? It’s weird.” “Eh all parents feel like they’re gonna mess it up but it’s a learning process. You’re gonna be fine son.” “You ready to have a little girl running around calling you grandpa?” “Shit no. But what about you? You ready to have a little girl running around calling you dad?” “Actually…yeah…I am.”

“Will you teach her how to fix cars?” “Sure. When she’s old enough to hold the flashlight.” “Eddie is trying to convince me the van is a perfectly reliable family van.” “It has no backseat…” “that’s what I told him but he said he’s gonna install some.” “Instal some seats? God he’s really lost it huh?” “I found a cheap little car that I love but figured I might see what you think about it before I even show it to him.” “Oh you want to tag team him is that it?” “Well he can’t tell us both no…” “that’s sneaky sweetheart, but I’ll do it because no way in hell am I letting my grand baby ride around in that damn van.” “

[twstfanblog]

*~ Halloween Hijinks ~*

A/N: Silly little thing I thought up and managed to finish on time. Happy Halloween everybody!!

Sam had agreed to let Yuu come to town with him, even offered to take a few of their friends if they wanted to come along. He needed to be at the docks by mid afternoon to pick up the massive order of props and materials for the upcoming Halloween Fair the school hosted. It’d take a while for him to get everything checked and settled, so Yuu would have plenty of time to explore the town until it was time to go back to campus. So, with permission from Crewel (And Crowley, but who cares.), Yuu and a select group of friends were set to accompany Sam.

But of course, Yuu could not just simply do things. They loved to have a theme, a motif, a little funny trick to enjoy at the expense of the masses. So in the ‘Freshest Firsties’ group chat, Yuu proposed a simple addition to their outing just to make it more fun. Seeing how most of them agreed, the plan was set.

Crewel had a massive roll of black fabric that was ‘The wrong shade’, so Yuu was free to cut and play with it as they wanted. They had made not only themselves and Grim, but also the rest of their friends matching simple cloaks and witch hats to wear to their outing on the town. Fastening the cloak, Yuu made sure it was completely covering their body, smiling once they saw it was. Looking down at Grim, the cat monster merely a black mess of fabric and a witch hat, Yuu picked him up, “Welp, let’s go distress the masses.”

Grim tilts his head, allowing his grin to be shown, “Yeah!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Riddle was concerned.

He stood at the window outside of his office, Trey and Cater on either side of him. Outside, Yuu was twisting their body in a jerking motion that he supposed could be called dancing. He hoped that the bouncing shape on their head was Grim, but it was hard to tell when all any of them could see was a glimpse of blue fire under the oversized hat.

“Should…we go out there?” Trey looked at them, eyebrows creased in worry, his expression only deepening when Yuu started to add more movements to their strange dance.

Cat looks away from his phone, filming the weird performance for his own amusement, “Do you wanna go out there? #I’ve-Seen-This-Movie…”

Riddle sighs, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow, “Well, we can’t just let them…Wait…”

Two new figures were racing out from the dorm, matching black cloaks making them seem like they were merely floating instead of running. Once they reach Yuu, they all turn in a circle, revealing the new figures to be Ace and Deuce. One more brief twirl and hop dance later, the four of them raced off to the mirror, disappearing from view.

…

“...” Trey turned back to them, opening his mouth, “-”

“No.” Riddle turned around, walking away from the window and back toward his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Cater and Trey stood in the hallway, sharing a glance before Cater smiled and shrugged. Tapping at his phone, he walks away as he starts to post the odd video, “Eh. I’m sure they’re fine…#Cult-Things-With-The-Boyz.”

Trey stood at the window, sighing softly, “I need a glass of milk…”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Leona laid in bed, glaring at the ceiling while the phone in his hand rang. Ruggie was late, later than he normally was anyway. He not only missed Leona waking up, but he had been awake for nearly 15 minutes and the hyena hadn’t shown up yet. He should have been there already with his lunch. In a move that wasn’t worry, he started to ring him up, and even that was taking forever.

Ruggie finally picks up the call, speaking in a nonchalant tone, “Y’ello?”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Uh…In the dorm.”

“Well, get up here already.”

“Uuuuuh…Can’t.”

“...” Leona sits up in his bed, looking at his phone with a puzzled expression, “What the fuck do you mean ‘Can’t’?”

“Just…Just come to the lounge and you’ll see…”

Leona kept on the call, walking out to the railing that looked over the lounge area, freezing at the scene before him. There was Ruggie, one hand holding the phone to his mouth and the other gripping the bag containing their lunch. But, circling around him like a group of over-sized vultures were three black-cloaked figures, a smaller shape skittering around the circle at a faster pace than the others. They walked in a tight enough circle that it seemed Ruggie wasn’t able to move freely enough to use his UM. Not to mention they’d every now and again do some weird movement that Ruggie would have to lean away to dodge.

“...Ruggie, what the fuck am I looking at?”

“Just come down here to get your damn food. I think I’ve been chosen for a sacrifice or some shit.”

“I’m not going down there-Oh.”

“What? What? You can’t just say ‘Oh’ and not-AH, WHAT THE FUCK!?” Ruggie threw whatever half caution he had to the wind, dipping lowing and shoving past Deuce once he saw a massive figure in black speeding toward them.

Leona gripped the railing, hoping his laughter was echoing and giving Ruggie a headache as Jack joined who he suspected to be Yuu and their other little friends. A brief greeting was only given in a matching full-body shake before the flock was off toward the mirror, leaving behind a heavily breathing Ruggie, a confused mass of bystanders, and a cackling Leona.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Um, Azul?” Jade peeked his head into the backroom smiling before he bowed lightly, “There’s a bit of a situation happening in the lounge.”

Sighing, Azul put his pen down to give Jade his full attention, “And you need my help with it why?”

“Well, it seems your date-mate has descended upon the lounge with a coven of their dark brethren.”

“...” Azul reached up, pulling off his glasses as though that would help him clearly hear what Jade just said to him, “...What?”

“Your date-mate. In the lounge. Descended like a dark omen. Come see?” Jade clearly was enjoying himself, the wild look in his eye showing just how hard he was fighting back the laughter he wanted to release.

“...” He put his glasses back on, standing up and wordlessly following Jade out the door to the lounge. A part of him was thankful they had the sense to wear all black. All black was tasteful and he could maybe add a charge to the current patrons' bill for a floor show. Or, what he could claim was a floor show.

He supposes they were dancing, Yuu and their friends. It was an odd shifting movement that they seemed to time in perfect opposite sync. It was oddly hypnotic, but also clearly starting to distress the crowd. He steps closer, standing next to Yuu and whispering, "Darling? My sweet pearl, salt to my sea? What is this? Literally, what are you doing right now?"

Azul watches in mild annoyance, and a smidge of adoration, as a small smile crosses Yuu's face as they clearly gained amusement from whatever this event was. But they still don't stop dancing or speak to him, “Yuu…What are you doing- HEY!”

The biggest cloaked figure, that Azul could only guess was Jack, suddenly picked him up, moving him farther away from the group before returning to his place in their dance.

He was poised to start dealing out fines, heavy ones, when Floyd exited the kitchen. The tall mer had a note clutched in his hand that he passed to Yuu. The prefect held the paper high, signaling the others to stop their odd ritual and rush out of the lounge. Yuu takes a brief moment to run to him, kissing him on the cheek before running after their friends and out of sight.

"..." Azul turns to Floyd, calling out as he walks back to the kitchen, "Floyd what was that?"

"Oh. Shrimpy’s doing me a favor." With a shrug, he walked past the swinging doors, giving no further explanation. 

…

Azul turned to Jade, the other Eel-Mer clearly struggling to hold in his laughter, "I'm serious, what was that?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Something was wrong. Not at the moment but something was coming, Jamil could feel it. In the kitchen, he stood and judged Kalim’s knife cuts. The Asim heir wearing cut-safe gloves and muttering under his breath to remind himself of the proper grip and position for the knife. All in all, a very normal and calm cooking lesson…Something was wrong.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple, trying to think what could be bothering him. Kalim was standing in front of him, his homework was completed, and dinner was well underway (If Kalim would hurry up with cutting the peppers). What could it be…?

The door clicks open, calling both of their attention to it. Yuu stood in an all-black floor-length cloak, only one arm shown holding Grim up. Funnily enough with the cat monster in a matching outfit. Yuu stood silently, simply looking at the two of them.

Kalim and Jamil look at each other from the corner of their eyes before moving them back to Yuu. Kalim smiles, placing his knife down and walking closer to Yuu, “Hey, Yuu! You wanna stay for dinner? I’m helping.”

Jamil rolls his eyes briefly, crossing his arms, “That’s a word for it…”

Yuu didn’t speak, only holding Grim higher, letting the cat monster be in clear view as he clapped his paws together twice.

The kitchen was flooded by other cloaked figures, the three of them quickly descending on Kalim while the house-warden screamed in confusion. Jamil just barely grabbed at his pen before the other figures fled the room, leaving a frazzled Kalim lying on the floor.

Yuu rushes over to Jamil, pressing a kiss to his cheek before they run off, leaving the two Scarabia students in the silence.

…

Jamil looked at Kalim, after making sure the dark posse wasn’t coming back, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…?” He pats himself down, standing up slowly as he checked himself over, “Yeah I-...” Kalim’s hands pat at his pocket, pulling the hidden seam of his poofy pants to look inside directly, “Oh. They stole my wallet.”

Well, at least Jamil knew what that horrible feeling was…

~*~*~*~*~*~

Vil stood at the main window of the Pomefiore lounge, wine glass in hand as he swirled his sparkling water. It took so much of his self-control to not scowl. He looks at the pack of idiots in the courtyard flailing around and scaring his dormmates. Rook had warned him that Yuu was doing 'something', the Florian saying as such with a smile before pointing toward the window.

He was busy, he really didn’t have the time to be dealing with…whatever this was. As of now, he was trying to make the decision on whether he should sic Rook on them or not. While he would probably take all day with it out of the pure joy of getting to hunt down the first years, Vil needed him for their site planning. Sighing, he turns to Rook, the Florian smiling and filming the odd performance, to order him to remove them from Pomefiore. Only for them both to look in surprise as a new dark figure flew down from the roof.

Only briefly seeing, potentially unbrushed lilac locks, did Vil realize that Epel had flown from his bedroom window to join the others in their dancing in the form of flying over them. The Pomefiore first year sprinkling what looked like glitter onto them in rather aggressive throws. The two third years watch as Epel dismounts his broom, the others circling and waving their arms over him before grouping together and rushing off.

Vil and Rook stood at the window, looking at the group of black fabric scurrying away and out of the dorm building's fenced area like a flock of confused deer. Blinking his eyes, Vil finally scowls and sips at his water, walking away from the window, “I should have just had you shoot them...”

Rook smiles, clapping his hands and opening the window to shout at the fading figures, “Beaute! 100 points!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

If he ignored the knocking they’ll go away. Idia knew he could only turn his game up so loud to drown them out without his own ears starting to hurt. But, whatever Yuu wanted he wasn’t gonna give. But he couldn’t deny that the knocking was starting to finally annoy him. He growled under his breath, the knocking throwing him off on his rhythm game enough to break his combo.

Idia throws down his controller, hair just barely flickering into red as he yells to the door, “Fine! It’s unlocked! Just come in like a- what the fuck?” Idia curled into his chair, trying to make himself smaller as way more people than just Yuu crowd into his room. Why were they all in black? What kind of curse game event did he trigger? Oh god was that glitter? He saw this movie with Cater, he knows how this is gonna end.

His hope rises at hearing Ortho’s update capsule hiss open. Now looking at them all together, Idia now realizes why Ortho asked him to make a simple cloak shell for him. Oh god, Yuu’s weird cult got to his poor little brother…

Ortho flies up to Idia, his hat in hand as his eyes creased in a smile, “Nii-san! I’m breaking my agreement with Yuu to tell you I’ll be gone for a few hours! Please make sure you eat and I’ll keep my text channel open for you to check up on me!”

“...” Idia’s eyes glance at the lightly swaying group of the other first years, each of them adding in their own various movements like some type of hivemind boss. Looking back to Ortho he nods, “Okay…Be safe…Have fun…”

“I will, have fun in your game Nii-san!” Ortho puts the hat on his head, his sclera blacking out and his arms come out to form a perfect T-pose.

Idia watches in muted horror as the others copy Ortho, leaving the room in a single file with Ortho floating behind them. He didn’t care to figure out who double-backed to shut his door, even though he was thankful.

“...” Turning back to his computer he opened his chat window and sent out a message to Cater.

‘can you cm ovr? was jst swatted by a cult.’

‘LOLZ. They got ya huh babes?’

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Should we do something?” “But they look like they’re having such fun!”

“What’s happening- WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO WAKA-SAMA!?”

Sebek looked out the window, eyes wide as he watched his ‘friends’ circle around Malleus in black cloaks.

Lilia giggles, looking out in amusement, “It seems Malleus has been kidnapped by a dark coven. Silver just came back with a letter detailing their demands.” He gestured to Silver, signaling for him to hand Sebek the hastily written note.

Sebek snatches it from Silver’s outstretched hand, reading it over before his frown somehow deepens, “So we have to fight them!? That’s what we’re going to do right!? We can’t let them just keep Waka-Sama!”

Silver shakes his head, “I highly doubt Malleus is in any actual danger, Sebek. I think he’s just happy to be included in their game…” Looking outside, Silver couldn’t help but smile at how calm Malleus appeared to be in the middle of the circle.

“But their demands!”

“They only stated they would ‘take’ Malleus if the proper person doesn’t fulfill their promise.” Lilia joins Silver in looking out the window, “I must be honest, though. I may just let this game continue to see what happens. Plus, Malleus would love to spend the day with your friends.”

Sebek pouted, taking a glance out the window before sighing and leaving the room. Silver and Lilia sharing a look before shrugging. Only minutes later to laugh at seeing Sebek stomp out of Diasomnia with a matching black cloak and oversized witch hat. Lilia down right cackling seeing Epel throw a handful of glitter directly at Sebek's chest.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam braced himself on his knees, having stopped his laughter but still needing to catch his breath. Standing back up, he wipes a tear from his eye. Catching breath, he looked at the students in front of him, "...I'm guessing y'all are all set?"

The glitter-covered black hats all nodded, though Sebek merely grumbled and tried to brush the offending dust from his hands.

Shaking his head, Sam prepped the mirror for their trip, "The second we get into town, you kids scatter. I don't wanna be a part of whatever cult thing you got goin' on."

[queermentaldisaster]

“The Hunt Is My Muse”

Hello! The first chapter of my shifter!au fic is here! This one is gonna be a long one, so you better strap in. This one is gonna be so much fun! I'm so excited to introduce you all to the intricacies of this AU i have plotted out.

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @spicyspicyliving @bringinsexybackk69 (If you wanna be added or removed, leave a reply, tell me in a reblog, or shoot me an ask. Reblogs are greatly appreciated.)

Chapter under the cut.

Chapter 1: "Steel and Silver Sing For Justice"

“No.” He said, being adamant about this. “I’m not working with him on this.”

Price exhaled, his eyebrows furrowed. “Ghost, you will be working with Sergeant MacTavish on this.”

“And do you remember what happened the last time we worked together?” Ghost huffed, crossing his arms. 

Price closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ghost, this isn't a discussion. We need both you and the sergeant on the field for this one. If it makes you feel better, you'll be working with Commander Phillip Graves as well as Colonel Vargas and Sergeant Major Parra.”

“It does not, but it's not like I have a bloody choice, eh?” Ghost asked, his eyes narrowed under the mask.

Price exhaled once more. “No, no you don't.”

“Of course.” Ghost mumbled, turning around and leaving.

That was a few days ago. Now he was sitting in the helo next to Soap, the Scot rambling about something. Honestly, he'd tuned Soap out a while ago. He stared at the ground, feeling the urge to shift, that feeling like deep-rooted anxiety deep in his gut, bubbling up. He clenched one of his hands into a fist, taking deep breaths. ‘In for three, hold for three, out for three.’ He thought, repeating that in his head as he continued breathing.

When he looked back up, Soap was giving him a weird look. “What?” Ghost asked. Soap shook his head. “Nothin’, ye just looked nervous is all. Ye alright?” He responded, his voice soft and calm. Ghost looked away. “‘M fine, sergeant. Worry about yourself.” He whispered. Soap arched an eyebrow. “Lt, ye clearly ain’t fine. Just talk tae me, please.” The younger man pleaded.

Ghost shook his head, as the helo landed “No, Soap. I’m fine. We need to focus on the mission.” He stood up. Soap huffed. “Fine.” he said as he stood up. “But ah dinnae believe ye.” He muttered. Ghost looked back at him. “You don’t have to believe me.”

The helo opened and Ghost walked down the ramp, Soap at his side. The Colonel, Alejandro Vargas, walked forward to meet them. “Alejandro!” Soap exclaimed, offering his hand for a handshake. Alejandro took it with a polite; “Sergeant MacTavish.” 

Soap chuckled, his smile growing ever wider. “Call me Soap,” he said as the two men pulled away from the handshake. Alejandro looked to Ghost. “Lieutenant. Laswell says they call you Ghost.” He murmured. Soap cut in. “Actually, I believe he prefers to be-”

So Ghost cut him off. “That’ll do.” He said, looking back to Alejandro and nodding. Alejandro nodded. “You two shifters?” He asked, and it was a simple question. But one that Ghost did not answer. But Soap nodded. “Ah’m a red fox shifter.” Alejandro smiled. “Ocelot here. Let's go.” He turned around and led Ghost and Soap towards an armored vehicle.

Ghost and Soap climbed in the back. Alejandro got into the passenger seat. “This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.” He murmured, and Rodolfo looked at the two in the back seat. “Hello.” He murmured, before saying something to Alejandro in Spanish.

“Where’s Hassan?” Ghost asked. Alejandro smirked. “Cartel safe-house, ten clicks from here.” Ghost nodded, and the vehicle began driving, two more behind it.

Ghost honestly kinda zoned out on the drive through the city. At some point, he heard Soap say something to him about kids, guns and balloons, and Rodolfo said something about his mask, but he was too busy trying to ignore that damned feeling in his gut.

Ghost didn't shift. Not since Zaragoza and Roba. He used to, even with his dad's abuse, albeit rarely, but he couldn't anymore. Not when all it brought up were memories of pain and suffering. So he let the animal in him fester.

It would never get out again.

[mouwrites]

Omg i Live your writing sm ❤️❤️

I would love to like have a ninjago Kai x fem/reader okay so basically it’s like a good friend of Lloyd in school and they do everything together but Kai has like a crush kn her since idk a year (like pretty long) and Kai’s jealous so he tried to be friends with her but she disagrees (not in his face but she’s like idk how to explane but she like doesn’t really talks to him and everything uk?) but he doesn’t know she has a crush on him too and is too shy to speak to him . But one time she told Lloyd and Lloyd knew Kai loves her too so she like make a date without them knowing idk just like Kai and Lloyd were suppose to meet at the same time as Lloyd and y/n and Lloyd then says to them both he doesn’t have any time so they do sth together and then like it’s a love story u can think of sth here 🫶🏼

Yes ofc!! We need more innocent schemes from Lloyd in this world

Word count: 1.1k

Ninjago - Lloyd Sets You Up with Kai

You closed your locker, nearly jumping out of your skin to find that someone had been waiting behind its door.

Spiky brown hair with warm eyes and a little smirk, you’d recognize hum anywhere. It was Kai Smith, a boy in your grade. You certainly knew about him, but you’d never actually spoken. Perhaps that was why your heart raced nervously at his alarmingly close proximity.

“Hey,” he greeted you.

“Um, hi.” You walked past him, eager to dodge the uncomfortable encounter.

That was weird…

The weirdness didn’t end there. Almost every day after that, Kai would try to talk with you. You didn’t understand why he was so interested; frankly, you were skeptical of his motives. So, you avoided him as best as you could. Luckily you had your friend Lloyd to use as an excuse to leave him.

“Hey, you got any plans for lunch today?”

“I’m sitting with my friend Lloyd.”

You didn’t stay long enough to see the disdain on his face at the mention of that name. Nor did you see his harsh glares at the two of you from across the cafeteria throughout the entire lunch period.

“Hey, you’re friends with Kai, right?”

Lloyd nodded, more focused on shoveling rice into his mouth at the moment.

“Do you know why he keeps trying to talk to me?”

Lloyd froze. His eyes bulging as they locked on his tray in shock. He did, indeed, know why Kai was trying to talk with you. But that wasn’t his secret to tell. Even though you were best friends, Lloyd was loyal to all of his buddies, and he’d never reveal their secrets.

“I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind if he was trying to get close to me… he is pretty cute, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a little crush on him, but…” You shook your head, cheeks going a little pink. “I’m way too shy for this.”

Too shy, eh? Lloyd thought to himself mischievously. We’ll see what we can do about that.

A couple days later, a sunny Saturday, Lloyd invited you to the arcade. Naturally you agreed, so you met up at his place and headed down together.

Arriving at the arcade, you were perplexed as Lloyd began to wave eagerly. Scanning the area, you spotted the person giving a corresponding wave. Your heart dropped. Spiky brown hair, warm eyes, a little smirk. Kai.

“What’s he doing here?” You whispered hastily to Lloyd before Kai could get within listening range.

“I invited him. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Hey Lloyd! I, uh, I didn’t know you invited Y/n, too.”

“I guess I forgot to tell you,” Lloyd replied innocently. “Oops.”

Then, with an exaggerated expression of shock, Lloyd whipped out his phone. “Ack! Speaking of forgetting, I totally spaced on my fish’s funeral! Oh, man, it’s in ten minutes! Sorry guys, I really gotta go. You two should have fun together though; don’t let me ruin a good date—er, hangout!”

You both stood dumbstruck as Lloyd hurried out of the arcade.

“Lloyd doesn’t even have a fish,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, and since when does he forget to tell me who he’s bringing to hangouts?”

You shook your head. Clearly he had some sort of scheme afoot, and you were determined to figure it out. In the meantime, though…

“Um, so… what kind of games do you like?” Kai glanced nervously at you.

“I like the racing game they have here,” you responded automatically, forgetting your shyness for half a second. You felt your face heat up when Kai smiled at you, taking your hand and leading you to the machine.

“I knew you had good taste in games.”

“This is something you’ve thought about?”

Kai took one of the two seats on the machine, and in the dim glow from the screen you could see him blushing. “I think about you a lot.”

Unsure of what to say to that, you took the place next to him. You played several rounds, becoming more and more disappointed in yourself as your performance declined. Kai’s words just wouldn’t stop echoing in your mind. You were distracted.

Little did you know that Kai was in a similar state. Why did I say that? He kept asking himself. Stealing fleeting glances at you only further declined his abilities.

“You guys suck at this game,” a child’s voice came from behind you after yet another round. “Let someone with actual talent have a turn.”

You both chuckled awkwardly, scrambling off the machine to let the kid have his turn.

“I’m normally not that bad,” you defended yourself as you browsed the other games.

“Me neither.”

“I guess being with you just made me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

“N-not in a bad way! Not in a bad way at all…”

“Does this make you nervous?” Kai brushed his hand against yours as you walked, making you look down with wide eyes.

“I don’t know. Does this make you nervous?” In a sudden bold gesture, you locked pinkies with him.

You could practically see his brain buzzing. “No. Actually, that’s quite nice.”

You looked away with a shy smile, certain that your face was as red as a barn.

It was several hours before Lloyd contacted you next. He said that the funeral (which you both doubted was real) was taking way too long and that you should head home without him.

“This was nice, Kai. I guess I’ll head home now.”

“A lady like yourself? Alone? At night? No way. I’ll walk you home.”

Too flustered to decline the offer, you let him escort you home. You weren’t ungrateful; no, this just meant that you got to spend more time with him. He had proven to be fantastic company in the arcade, and you were eager to see more of him in the future.

“Well, this is my place.” You turned to face Kai, wishing you could prolong the moment for much longer.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

Monday seemed an eternity away. A lightbulb abruptly illuminated in your mind. “Here, just take my number.”

You exchanged numbers, finally bidding each other goodbye with promises of texting in the morning.

You flopped onto your bed, singing in dreamy disbelief. Did that really just happen? Did you really just finally befriend your crush?

A buzz from your phone confirmed it. It was from Kai.

Tonight was fun. Can’t wait to see you again :)

It took everything in you not to squeal as you kicked your feet aggressively. It was real after all!

That night, you both dreamed of futures filled with flowers and kisses, hand-holding and her/him.

Thank you for this awesome request! And thanks for reading, take care guys <33

(divider by saradika)

[theredofoctober]

Shingleback— A Wolf Creek Darkfic

Mick Taylor x Virgin Female Reader

Synopsis: A road trip to visit relatives ends abruptly when Mick Taylor crosses your path

Trigger/Content Warnings: non con, violence, death (not reader)

Read after the cut

-

Smoke in your lungs, your mouth, in the porcelain shard of sky you see through the one eye not shut with blood. The air reeks of engine oil and char, and blackened flesh.

Someone is surely dead in the wreckage of the car, and you are not yet sure that it’s not you.

Footsteps, crunching through glass and stones. A whistle in the quiet.

Someone crouches over you at the side of the road, blinding you in a black trough of shadow.

“Fuck me,” he says. “Still breathin’. Ya got lucky. Your fella’s a goner, sweetheart.”

Fella.

Your father. He had been at the wheel, championing a road trip to visit obscure relatives, whom you’d never met, nor particularly cared to.

The drive had been harsh, all stark light and barren road.

Dread was in the yellow of the horizon. The air had hissed with its song.

“I don’t want to go,” you’d said. “I don’t know these people. It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. It’ll be weird.”

“Ah, it’ll be fine,” your father had replied, falsely jolly, consulting a map. “They’re all solid blokes. What are you worrying for?”

You rested your brow against the windowpane, soothing the beginnings of an ache.

“Just don’t feel like going. Can’t help worrying about Mom.”

The drive had continued in silence, for a time. Neither of you had wanted to reach for the radio.

“Yeah,” you father had said, at last. “Same here. But there’s no point stewing at home waiting for her, eh?”

You’d begun to answer, your words blown away in a gale of events.

Something had taken out a back wheel, then a front one. There had been something up ahead— a sign, you’d thought, and then the vehicle had been through it and over it and on its back, and burning.

You’d come loose from the car like a coin from a threadbare pocket, and now you’re lying in the silhouette of a man that smells like sweat and gunfire.

“Let’s have a look at you, then,” he says.

His voice is rough, friendly, salt of the earth. A working man’s accent. Trustable, if you did not know what he had done.

He brushes your hair back from your forehead, grunting at the cut that splits it like chopped wood.

“You’re gonna have one beauty of a scar if I don’t see to it. Looks like you’re coming home with me, love. I’m Mick, by the way. Mick Taylor. Nice to meet ya.”

You see the gun on his arm, know well that he put out the wheels.

Your lips part with a whispered rejection of his aid.

Mick scowls, his eyes squinting, all narrow malice.

“Eh? Listen, you can lie here like your mate there, or I can stitch you back together and getcha lookin’ decent. Choice is yours.”

The man chortles, a filthy, porcine sound.

“Just jokin’. I’m keeping ya. Know what’ll happen if you lie out here all night? Dingos’ll eat ya. Snakes’ll bite you. Either way, you’ll wind up fuckin’ dead, right. Don’t want that, do ya, Sheila?”

“My Dad,” you whisper—the fire has guttered your throat, leaving you with a geriatric croak. “He needs help.”

The figure leering over you shifts back slightly, and you glimpse his face. Sun-beaten skin, small, malignant eyes. Cleft chin. Hair grown down either side of his jaw like chin straps, bookends for a blunt-toothed grin.

“Your Dad’s fucked, darlin’. Legs burnt off. Probably got one foot in the grave. Or not, eh?”

Another rattling laugh. You try to sit up, going limp under a wash of pain.

“Here ya go,” says Mick, helpfully turning you onto your side. “See for yourself. I pulled him out of the wreck, but he’s barely hangin’ on. Doubt he’ll see tomorrow.”

Your father slumps, a charred half-man, still in the road. All the heat runs out of you through your head, and you sit up as though from a dream.

One of your ears buzzes, an imagined sound. You will never quite unhear it again.

“Dad,” you say— your voice is still barely audible, even to you. “Dad?”

His mouth twitches, and you glance up at Mick, knowing you cannot go to him for help.

“Bugger’s alive, is he?” asks Mick, noticing the stir of movement. “Must be bloody sore. Better put him out of his misery.”

Concussed, you do not understand the statement until Mick strides across to your father’s body and hefts the gun.

Three shots ring out.

The dying man jumps and dances briefly, festooned in a display of blood. Then he falls, faceless, his head dangled on the blown-off reed of his neck, and you look at Mick with a hollow terror that makes you almost calm in its flat emptiness.

“Did you both a favour,” he says, all broad, square teeth. “Wouldn’t want him watchin’ what I’m going to do to you when I get ya back.”

You leave your heart there on the road, another burned, dead thing in the humming afternoon.

*

Mick takes you to the remnants of a mine, carrying you down into the dark across his shoulder, as he might hoist the body of a deer. The stench of rot and ammonia passes over you in an acrid haze. A menagerie smell, of human animals.

There have been others, held here. Others killed in the belly of the ground.

Mick sits you against the bars of an iron cage, pleased by your lack of resistance.

“That’s it,” he says. “Nice and quiet. Wouldn’t want to have to cut your tongue out. Can’t scream me name if ya can’t talk.”

He goes over you with brutish hands, looking for injuries. One wrist violet with bruising, both knees skinned, the slash across your brow: aside from this, and the concussion, you are otherwise unscathed.

“You must be made of rubber,” says Mick, as he cleans your wounds with a bit of murky alcohol on a rag. “One hell of a tumble you took, there.”

Thanks to you, you think, but say nothing, are still an hour back in time, watching your father’s body leap in the force of gunfire.

“So,” says Mick, sitting back to observe his work under the dim light. “What were you and your dear old dad doing here in Australia?”

You do not answer, owe him nothing, this shooter of men.

Mick’s face darkens. Reaching forward, he squeezes your sprained wrist until you cough up bile between your legs, black stars churning in the cell before you.

“Start talkin’,” says Mick. “I’m not pissin’ around.”

“Dad’s from here,” you choke out. “Was. We were going to visit family.”

Your captor grunts in disbelief.

“Doubt it. Ya talk like a Yank.”

The disparagement in his tone is a steel edge you know better than to touch.

“My Mom’s American,” you say. “I grew up there. That’s why I don’t have any accent at all.”

“Hmm.”

To your relief, Mick softens, seeming to regard you with a more favourable look. His eyes are small, light, with a cold friendliness about them that you might have liked, had he not introduced himself in such slaughterous practice.

His tone, too, is conversational, as though he did not wear the shrapnel of blood and bone upon him, still.

“Where’s your Mum, then?” he asks.

You look down at the bile cooling in the dirt, its bitterness another stink in the fetid gloom.

“She ran away.”

Mick’s smile hardens.

“Got sick of your Dad, did she?”

“No. She’s got mental health problems. She stops taking her meds. Runs off. Comes back a month or so later. Nothing we can do.”

It seems a trite conversation to share with a killer, but you will sustain it, if it distracts him from thoughts of harm.

“So your Mum’s left ya,” says Mick, “and your Dad’s dead. Halfway to being an orphan, eh?”

You wipe your face gingerly, appalled by the absence of tears, the correct emotion. Certainly you feel it, somewhere, kept as though beneath an upturned glass. But you cannot express it, though it may buy you favour to cry.

“Dad’s family are gonna worry about me,” you say, softly. “If I don’t turn up.”

Mick’s brow furrows. It is a mistake to threaten him, even so subtly as this.

“They can keep worryin’,” he growls. “Can’t send ya back, now can I? You’d go tellin’ everyone about what I’ve been doing out here. Can’t let ya do that, Sheila.”

You push your hands behind you, clinging to the iron ice of the bars until your palms burn.

“But I don’t know what you’ve been doing,” you say. “I don’t want to know. I’ll say I don’t know who attacked me and my Dad. I didn’t see your face. I don’t know your name.”

Mick moves towards you, and you shift along the side of the cage, your spine ringing across the bars.

“I don’t trust ya,” he says, quite pleasantly. “You seppos can’t keep your mouths shut for one bloody minute. You’d be spillin’ your guts before ya knew you were doin’ it.”

He takes hold of your right leg and hauls you towards him, scraping your back as your t-shirt rides up across the floor. A knife is produced from somewhere, an evil fragment of silver moonlight, and you gasp, rigid in anticipation of it against your throat.

“Don’t piss yourself,” says Mick. “I’m not plannin’ to kill ya after doin’ such a stellar job of cleanin’ your injuries.”

Knotting his fist in your shirt, he cuts it from your body, repeating the action with your ruined jeans. You don’t dare raise a hand to prevent him, seeing the proficiency with which he wields his blade.

“Oh no,” you whisper, pathetic in your dread of what he means to do.

“Figured it out, have ya?” asks Mick, and grins, one crude hand snapping the elastic of your thin undergarments. “What else would I do with ya? Didn’t bring you down here for a chat.”

You close your bandaged knees, but Mick snaps them tersely open, turning the knife under the light again until you slacken to his will.

If your heart beats quickly, you cannot feel it: you are numb from the head down, insensible. Staring through the man before you, seeing the darkness in him waver, a living shadow.

Mick crouches between your legs, his fingers upon you with a hostile agility. He watches your face closely, eating of even the merest gesture of your suffering.

“Fair warning,” he says. “I’m going to hurt ya.”

You’re dry when he enters you, but as his knuckles clench you’re quickly soaked, the sounds of your flesh awakening to him an echo in the mine.

Mick’s eyebrows jump in bald surprise.

“Strewth, you’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t ya, daddy’s girl? Do ya always get this wet for blokes old enough to be your father, or just your Uncle Mick?”

His thumb roughs the jewel of nerves you’d hoped he’d avoid. You gasp strengthlessly, roll your head on your neck. Stare into the corpse flavoured dark; anywhere but his face, his eyes.

A blow to the face has you jolting back up like a roused snake, blinking, stone drunk with shock.

Mick leers down at you, his thick fingers still hooked through your cunt.

“Make some bloody racket, will you? I ain’t fuckin’ a dead sheila tonight. Would have left you in that burnt-out wreck of a foreign car if I thought you’d give up the fight this quick.”

You try to focus your stare, find the veins of your fear to bleed for him. The impression of Mick’s hand throbs across your eye, swelling the lid.

“Stop,” you rasp. “Stop it.”

Movement in your gut: a maggot of shame.

The old man smirks, and leans over you, his beer-musked breath making darts of the down on your bruised cheek.

“There ya go,” he says. “A bit of protest. I love it.”

He kisses you, forcing his tongue between your chipped teeth, all spit, and cigarettes, and drink. His thumb keeps up its relay across your clitoris, its callous tousling your silk. Cunningly, he hunts your climax, knowing he can turn it out.

Weakly, you scrape backwards on scabbed palms, Mick’s tongue still slid across yours. With a muttered oath, he kneels down on one leg, his weight a hanging rock.

“Keep your arse where it is. You’re comin’ for me, or I’m breakin' your fuckin’ legs, and I won’t be neat and tidy about it. Ya know what a compound fracture is, don’tcha? Bone through the skin, and a bastard to set right. Probably never seen one, a city brat like yourself. But you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

You watch his arm move, tanned tawny gold, bound in tattoos long faded by the sun, can’t look at his face in its ugliness and age, and slavering appetite. Sweat opals your forehead, and fevered shivers rip at you. Your mouth opens; the moan that drips free is someone else’s shame, a weak response to touch.

“You tourists are all the same,” says Mick, equally pleased and repulsed by the noise. “Whinge and whine about me putting me hands on ya, when all ya want under it all is a good root. I can feel you’re on the edge, orphan. Hips movin’. Hole squeezin’ down tight. Mind you don’t take me bloody fingers off, will ya?”

He chuckles, and brings his free hand to your breasts, pawing their flesh in his workman’s fist. The pain, the mockery— a signal crosses some incorrect road in your senses, for as Mick leans down to kiss you again you feel a tug of mad, sudden pleasure, casting itself through your loins and up into your mind like a flare thrown into the night.

His hand fucks you through it, pressing, relentless into your treachery. You break your fingernails on the filth beneath you, feel yourself torn, unwilling, from your distance like a marlin from the deepest sea. You breathe in sickly pants.

Savaged. Wounded.

“You’re a beauty,” says Mick, bringing his wet hand to his face to study its stolen glaze. “Take a look at the mess ya made. You oughta thank me, givin’ you a service like that. Half the time, I don’t bother. Just wanna get me dick in a hole and get to it.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he licks his hand, smacking his lips with a juicy pop. The noise—like gunfire, bullets in a tyre, in your father’s skull—startles you into action. The cage door is partway open; you lurch past Mick on your knees, all instinct, no thought as to what you’ll do beyond the mine.

“And where are you runnin’ off to, eh? Ya silly cunt.”

Mick is on your back in under a second, smacking the cage door shut on one of your outstretched hands. A scream evicts itself from you— parched, almost soundless, knocked back in by the blade Mick shunts beneath your chin.

“Told ya,” he growls, rutting against your hips for emphasis. “Either I fuck ya, or I kill ya, and I didn’t carry you all this way and stitch you up to finish ya quick. It’ll be slow and hard, and it’ll hurt. See how ya scream then, eh?”

“Please,” you say, to the knife as much as the man. “I can’t do what you want me to. I’ve never— I’ve never done that before. I’m scared.”

Mick puts the knife away and draws your head back to look you in the eye. His stare is hunger and dusk. Of hunting things in the desert.

“I know. Could tell you were a fuckin’ virgin. Bled on me hand, didn’tcha? Ain’t gonna stop me fuckin’ ya, though. Means I’ll be keepin’ you down here for a long time. Usin’ ya whenever I feel like it. But first, I have to break ya in.”

“Why?” you ask, as his belt buckle rings at your back, his shooter’s hands arrange you beneath him with the same familiarity with which he’d load his gun. “Why do you hurt people?”

Mick pauses, and when you glance back at him over his shoulder you see a real loathing sheen the vicious glass of his eyes.

“Because it’s what ya deserve. You, and all you cheap, noisy Americans, coming here, soiling my bloody land. Good thing you’ve got some Aussie in you, or I’d have to kill ya on principle. Not enough in you for me to turn ya loose, though.”

His knee opens your thighs, and you hear him clear his throat to spit in his hand, a home-grown lubricant. You stare at the bars of the cage until, in your vision, they smear into one broad stroke of rust. How cold the mine is, around you, in its coffin velvet darkness. All death, all hopeless night.

“Usually have to protect meself when I screw you tourist girls,” says Mick, conversationally. “Tend to be crawling with all sorts of nasties. But you’re clean as a whistle, ain’tcha, with a virgin cunt like yours.”

There is force at your sphere of heat, massive, bracing in the shoving pain that follows, the dirty grunts and curses blown against your ear like wind from some wretched sun-scoured isle. You dry heave across the dirt floor, spittle falling from the tip of your tongue in an unholy christening.

Surely you are baptised, now, by the way of brutality, a shingleback forced to mate, to exist beyond this point of anguish.

Mick’s hands punish your hips, their grip testing the joints. How comical he must look, plaid shirt pulled taut over his belly, the old hat still looming over his brow, with his untidy thrusts and growling breath. You know, as if by telepathy, how he savours the assault, how he sees himself the hunter, sinking his teeth into the meat of his quarry.

His cock beats a note of pain so close to pleasure that your nerves cannot mark the difference.

Perhaps it is easier, to take something from this agony, to find something amidst the fog. But then, perhaps you would rather it only hurt, a violence upon you, no different from the twisting of a spear up into your abdomen.

You’re wet as he fucks you, loudly so, the slick of it the music of the mine.

“Never had a girl drip on me cock like you, Sheila,” says Mick, slapping your flank heartily as he withdraws. “Let’s getcha on your back so I can have a look at ya.”

He turns you with a careless shove, snorting as you cover your eyes like a child afraid of the beast under its bed.

“Christ,” says Mick. “Can’t stomach seein’ an old bloke like me makin’ ya come? Probably finger yourself thinkin’ about some soft bloody film star. Well, you can get over it. You’re mine now, darlin’. Never lettin’ you go.”

He drags you to him by the hips, bending your legs back at such an angle you sense, with certainty, that he means to fill you to your greatest depth. You tense, try, with feeble hands, to push at his chest as he bears down on you again.

“Please,” you say. “Please, no more, please, please...”

Terror strikes through you in a fork of black lightning as Mick leans down, his eyes narrowed, hateful.

“Shut up,” he sneers. “Look down, ya uptight bloody American princess. You’re gonna watch me fuck ya.”

With a terse jolt he moves your head downwards. You see his cock in one tanned hand, pushing back into your ravaged entrance in one slow, mean thrust. Unnatural, the size of him, a surrealist nightmare depiction of male aggression.

The tempo of it drawing in and out of you may as well be the digging of a grave in all its dark purpose. Your breasts rise and fall with its movement, your skin awash in the hideous light shone down from the naked bulb overhead, the yellow of a cartoon sun.

You hear your own voice, disembodied, the chatter of a ventriloquist’s doll.

“Mick. Mick, it hurts.”

“Should bloody hope so,” he sneers, and he hits you; the rusty pain in that same abused cheek runs down your neck into your loins, and you are afraid of yourself as much as this monster, in your weakness.

You cling to Mick’s arms suddenly, which are firm from his grisly work, and he snickers.

“Like that, do ya? Never would have guessed it, to look at ya.”

He palms your chest, yellowed teeth bared as he rolls upon you, chafing your spine against the floor. His ugliness is your greatest shame, every line in his weathered face mocking you with its affront.

You cannot wrench your eyes away, staring up at him even as you wish only to turn to the dark. Ghosts seem to whisper to you from the corners, holding you accountable for the plaits of ecstasy that wind your cunt tight around your attacker.

You throb with the need of release, with its inevitable approach, uninvited.

He killed your father. He has raped and killed and rode his ruthless path through the Outback for decades, and you are going to come with him within you. Come from the chemical bewilderment of fear, and grief, and the force of him in the new wound of taken virginity.

If you survive him, it will be as a ghoul, undead, unfeeling. You yearn for him to return to the knife and end you, but you know from the glee in his eyes that he means to have you live as long as your flesh can withstand his horror.

“You’re a looker, y’know,” breathes Mick, putting a hand behind your head in a rancid performance of romance. “Scars and all. Give me a kiss, eh?”

He runs his tongue through your lips, and you gasp as a vent of andesite heat bisects you in your climax. Your enemy gives a throaty laugh, fucking you through each layer of orgasm until all that is left is the pain, and the width of him within you.

“Bet you’ve never come like that before, have ya?” he gloats. “Look scared to death. Jesus. I could fuck ya for days.”

But you feel his strokes taking an erratic quality, hear the shortening of his breath. He’s close, and you doubt he means to save you the dread of him finishing in your satin warmth.

Still, you beseech, feel at the very least that your begging will end this.

“Don’t... I mean, inside me, I...”

Mick smirks, gripping you by the chin to bring you eye to eye.

“Darlin’,” he croons. “I’m gonna be blowin’ me load in ya cunt until the day I kill ya.”

He licks your face of sweat and blood, and grips you to him as he reaches his bellowing crisis. You feel him pulse, the overflow of his spend trailing your inner thigh in its salt moisture, and close your eyes, stepping in to embrace your defeat.

Mick stands up, buckling his trousers, whistling a jolly, off-key tune. You lie as he left you, thinking of nothing, your mind and senses ground out into ash. Day in, day out, this is to be your life, whore to the devil of the land.

It seems that you died in the car, after all.

By God, you wish that you had.

---

Chapter Two is now here

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

On the subject of Sam and Dean being weird about each other. Just sitting here thinking about taking their innate weirdness, lack of boundaries, closeness, and just cranking it up to eleven without making them attracted to each other at all, just the sort of gross inappropriate shit that siblings might do to each other under those circumstances...

Sam is fifteen, Dean is nineteen and they had to share a bed last night because it turned out that they didn’t have enough cash to get two rooms, a situation that John is going to remedy today even if it kills him. Sam wakes slowly with the iron claws of sleep still trying to drag him back down into unconsciousness. But there’s something wrong. He’s too warm and there is a heavy weight pressing him down all along one side. “Dean, get off me. It’s too hot.” But his brother doesn’t stir. Sam shifts his shoulders into Dean, trying to jostle him awake. “Get off me.” Dean growls sleepily and burrows deeper down, pressing his morning boner right into the side of Sam’s hip. Sam’s face scrunches up around his still closed eyes and he bucks his hips to the side, right into Dean’s dick. “Ow! What’re you doing?” Dean grumped. “Ugh, do something about that already, and get off!”  Dean, smirking, grinds forward into Sam and laughs, “What? Like this?” “No! Ugh. I’m trying to sleep. Go take care of it somewhere else.” Dean sits up, still laughing, “Eh, you’re no fun, Sammy. Fine. I got dibs on the shower then.” “Don’t use all the hot water.”  “No such luck, little brother, I’m gonna take the longest, hottest, nastiest shower ever. Not gonna stop ‘til the pump runs dry and I’m pruny all over.”  “Ugh, you’re such an asshole.” Sam mumbles as he gets comfortable again and tries to drift back off to sleep.  “Yeah, you know you love my asshole.” Dean says as he shuts the bathroom door. Meanwhile, John is laying in the other bed, silently staring at the ceiling contemplating murder-suicide.

[manallandall]

The rat park

Go on outing They got back to the motel, it was late. They were sitting on chairs outside in front of their room’s window. There were a few cars pulling up and leaving. The neighbors were weird. They were talking and laughing about a few of the odd characters. Satan pulled out a cigarette; she’d already had three. Samesh pulled it out of her hand… “Hey!” Satan swiped to get it back. “You’re a little girl now mom, you can’t have as much pleasure as me!” Samesh stuck the cig in her mouth and just let it hang. It was near dark. Finally, one of the guys from the truck stop was walking on over – fresh meat. Samesh (truck driver) pointed him out, walking to his room, giving Satan the little nudge w/ her bow. Satan looked up from her trackphone. “Okay, nice,” she said under her breath. They watched him go in; it didn’t need said, they’d bother him when ready, but for now, holy shit! Was that a loose dog? They sucked in the smoke and night air while all the town got decorated with balls of glowing light. “I’m fat, I’m going to go sleep.” Samesh got up and set down the lighter (they were smoking blunts now), she went in her room and shut the door (didn’t lock it), and left Satan outside, I mean, she was Satan, it didn’t mean much to keep her on a leach, fuck, I’m tired. She passed out really quickly, and only half-winked to notice (in her cloudy sub-concious, somebody come in the room. Satan was going through her luggage, trying to find some nice lingerie, or at least a cool t-shirt with some panties, something like that and disappeared into the hotel bathroom for some serious surgery. Bitch needs help, samesh’s thoughts wandered as she thought about Vue,V(i),Viewer, my little v-v floating above me somewhere in the sky; I should abandon my mom here and let her find this truck driver in her bed in the morning, just totally naked, and her little secrets exposed! Haha, mornonic, I want tx. (Yeah, the plan was to go sleep with him, (the new guy, the fun sport), but there was a knock at the door. Uh, okay? Who’s this? Samesh though, and Satan still had the bathroom door shut, working, must be a hard project!, Fuuuuuuuk Fameshed rolled out of bed and waddled to the door, peeking out the pie-hole. There was a somewhat young asian girl standing there. She opened the door and said “hey, what do you want” in a low grumbly voice. I don’t think that the asian-bitch would have known that she was like, god of the universe or something can I get a break? Okay, fine, you want to come in and sleep with me, with us, fine, it’s late, I don’t care, why are you bothering me, just come on in already bitch.

The girl comes in, doesn’t say much, there is something wrong about her, still young healthy looking but with some type of roughness in her face, was she homeless? Was she abused by family? She was a drug dealer? Just like a psycho or prostitute? Idk, but she made it this far so I will two. The fat fuck just led the way, and said “There, you can have that bed over there, there’s the remote, but don’t play history channel, that shit bothers me and light’s out never, order me pizza in the morning, me and my mom are sleeping over here, not looking for a threesome tonight, uh, there’s money in my wallet if you need, and pretty well didn’t talk to her. So this little neat girl, she just sat carefully on the bed, kinda watching Samesh, it was creepy and annoying, but Trucker rolled on his side facing the other way (and he smelled). She didn’t turn on the tv. In the back of Samesh’s head was like (yep, probably will get murdered now, maybe now, howabout now, eh, who cares!…)

Runs away Satan came out of her room (jk) and froze, uh, wait, who is this, this is not the trade-alliance we had formed, and she soon became friends with her friends “So like are you from town…” and they were chatting it up, sitting close on the bed. Sometime went by, Samesh’s mind drifted and she slept; it was about 1? 1:45? when the door opened with a keycard and Satan can in drunk. “Wake up! Wake up! (the asian bitch was sound asleep under her sheets in the other bed and they left her alone) She hustled the blob. Well, at least I got a few winks, “Are you ready?” “Oh my god mother! You look like a stripper!” “It will only take a minute.” She pulled at the girl’s (rider) hand and they both walked over to room 506. Knock knock knock, Satan shined her phone’s flashlight at the outer curtains. There was no response, and they were lucked-out, when the dude responded. “What’s going on?” he was a weirdo. “My uh, truck broke down a ways back, and the chapel was full, so we were goin’ room to room just lookin’ for a bed, and this is my daughter, Samesh motioned towards the actual Devil.” “Okay, uh, fine yeah, just, sure come on in…” “Thanks,” “Thanks.”

“Dad, I need to piss!” Satan pretended, and Fatso looked up at the other dude, like where is it? The other dude was freaking out like it’s a hotel, the fuck pot is always by the door! And he just looked over that way, and suddenly Samesh fake remembered and said “there it is!” and pointed towards the bathroom. The guy was checking out her perky ass on the way. Now there were two fat fucks in the same room, trying to pretend that they were not alive. “You need the lights? The room owner mentioned. “uh, just for a couple minutes if you don’t mind, the reverse hostages” mentioned. “Cool.” Satan came out of the bathroom with out her bottom on, and was like “uh dad, could you help me flush the toilet” The other dude was looking over wide-eyed. “Satan!, err, I mean dolly, come on over here I told you if you asked me on how to flush the toilet again I would spank you. She bent over ‘in front of her dad’ backwards, with her fat cheeks, and raw legs, and little pecker zone, and all the good stuff like a bright orange on display – ready 4 use. Fatso just kinda drummed on both cheeks pretending it qualified, and the other guy got a boner. “I’m sorry dad!” he kept drumming. “Get on my lap and we’ll talk about it!” She stood up and sat on her dad’s lap and the other guy was like (I should call 911, not really you shouldn’t, but then he was like, I got to be the here, nevermind, lemme watch were this is going…) and she was sitting on his leg, ass raw but naked with the juices, and he started saying “This is where the pee comes out of!” “Where daddy?” Right here!!!!! and he actually touched it with his finger. “Did you pee on the floor again!” “I might have daddy!” “Goddamn it, I am going to spank your pussy, and he started tapping it, and fingering it, and they started making out”. The other guy took off his pants to expose his boner and came on over for some action. Samesh bent over and he stuck his penis in her and the new guy fucked satan (samesh’s old body). Samesh was waiting. Waiting. Just waiting for it. Now, “Fuck her really good, yeah, fuck my daughter, you are doing a great job, and slapped him on the ass – his weiner fell out, and he was scrambling. Let me see that wiener! And fatso was grabbing at the dude’s weiner. The guy threw a block and bent in the center of his body, but fatso pushed him back on the bed from where he threw a few punches, and Samesh mostly blocked them, but then did have to fall face first onto the bed from her attacking momentum, and the guy, rather than getting a weapon, and going to jail or whatever happens (life is life, life is valuable, you don’t need to fight for something that doesn’t exist, save what’s real and what’s in front of you) he opted to run, grabbing a towel that was laying on the dresser on his way out, leaving the door hanging wide open.

Riley spun around to face the naughty imp, “uh, you want coffee?” and they slept in the wrong room that night (in separate beds). In the morning, they checked on their asian expirement. She was out cold.

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 3

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4938

Summary: He says his name is Joel. You want to make him feel safe, so you share more of your home with him

Warnings: Eh, not really any in this one.

Series Masterlist

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AO3

_______________

Chapter 3: The Grand Tour

It’s been 3 days and you think he’s said maybe a total of 10 words to you— most of which were a quick thank you whenever it’s mealtime or a bandage change. At least he had manners. You don’t want to press or hover over him so you just let it be. He needs to recover anyway. Without anything to seemingly leave for anymore, he’s finally settled into the situation.

This morning was the first time he’d hobbled around anywhere other than to the bathroom across the hall. You’d been sleeping on the couch and woke up to him looking over the bookshelf next to you. Gus, of course, still sat at your side watching his every movement. 

He grabs the collection of Henry David Thoreau works and turns to face you, arms heavy over his crutches, “Alright if I sit on the porch?”

You nod. He places the book in his teeth and awkwardly shuffles through the front door. 

“Think he’ll run?” you ask Gus. He raises his eyebrows and huffs through his nose. The tell-tell sign he’s deeply annoyed. You can’t blame him, “Oh, you always say that.”

You fry up some eggs over the wood stove and debate bringing your breakfast out to eat with him but ultimately decide against it. You hadn’t eaten a meal together yet. Hell, you’d barely had a conversation.

Space. Give the poor guy some space.

He’s taken a seat on the bench swing, propping his bad leg up next to him. He seems startled when you bring out the plate of eggs and a cup of coffee.

“That coffee?” he asks, almost in amazement. 

“The freshest around,” You place his breakfast on the side table next to him along with a few Tylenol. It was unfortunately the best you had to manage the pain, “I’m gonna… be working around the property. Holler if you need anything.”

“I—” he looks down at the plate like he’s wondering if today’s going to be the day you poison him. “Thank you, I will.” He nods and returns to his book.

You take a few steps off the porch when you hear him speak again.

“Joel.”

You pause and turn back to face him, “What?”

“Joel Miller.”

Did he just…oh. 

You smile, “Nice to meet you, Joel Miller.”

_______

He’s southern, you can tell at least that much from his accent. The drawl on certain words. He’s called you ma’am a few times and that felt weird given the obvious age difference. He’s in his late forties if you’d have to guess from the gray in his hair and set lines on his face. You could always just ask him all this, of course, but instead your canning okra across the yard in the produce shed. He doesn’t strike you as someone who would be receptive to a round of 20 questions anyway.

Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to him. You hadn’t had anything new to think about in a while. 

He’s from the QZ. Anyone who leaves the quarantine zones is killed… at least if they're caught. He came all the way out here for a trade deal, that’s what he claims anyway. If he was trying to get back inside he probably wasn’t Fedra. Good. A Firefly— maybe. Or just a smuggler. 

For all you knew there weren’t Fireflies or Fedra anymore. All the info you had on them was at least 5 years old, and you only ever got it from passers-by. The Firefly resistants just blossomed in the last year or two when you were still out in the world. You’d traded with them a few times. They came to your settlement seeking medical aid. Just people unhappy with the status quo, that’s what they said anyway. 

You hadn’t been to the city since the outbreak, and that was just fine with you. 

You liked it out here. You belonged out here. Whatever small community your little settlement found all those years ago seemed leagues better than whatever was in the QZ. It seemed so long ago— everything you lost. What they took from you. 

“Jesus Christ!” you hear a now familiar gruff voice exclaim from across the yard, followed by a bark from Gus. You run out of the shed and around to the front of the house. You round the porch to see a familiar orange and white cat rubbing up on Joel’s leg. You sigh, a little annoyed you rushed over here so fast for this. 

“That’s Lilly,” You tell him, “She comes and goes as she pleases.”

“Damn thing snuck up on me,” He scratches his fingers along the cat’s back. Gus responds to the interaction with a growl. “I didn’t do anything,” Joel rolls his eyes at the dog. 

Boys. They always fight, no matter what species. 

“Gus, let’s be nice to our guest,” You reprimand him, coming to kneel in front of Joel. Lilly strolls over to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” He says curtly, almost annoyed, “Look… is there anything I can help with? Around the place, I mean.”

Oh, you weren’t expecting that.

“I don’t think you’re capable of too much.”

“I can hold my own,” He says in the same irritated tone. 

“Ya know, most people these days would be happy to have a few days off.”  You pick up the cat and sit back cross-legged. “Or at least let their bodies heal.” 

“Not me.”

“Clearly.” 

This wasn’t about healing. He didn’t want to sit around, you could tell. A man who’s always on the move, just like everyone else in the world. You sit too long and the anxiety sets in. The gravity of it all comes crashing down under the weight of your own thoughts— and he’d been alone in that bedroom for days now. If you’re moving, using your hands… you’re not thinking. 

You really get it. 

There isn’t any work you think he should be doing, but maybe instead of berating this already traumatized man, you could share a little something of yourself with him. Make him feel comfortable. Make him feel safe. 

You sigh, setting the cat aside, “Tell you what, how about a tour? Get to know you’re unwilling prison and explore a little bit. If you're feeling up to it, of course. Get that blood pumping… whatever you have left of it anyway.” 

“Ha.” He says flatly, expression not moving an inch. 

“So is that a yes I’d love to, or…?”

He pauses, probably physically willing his eyes not to roll. 

“Okay,” He grabs his crutches.  

You hop off the porch, trailed by a hobbling broad man, an overly friendly cat, and an anxious border collie. Where do you start? You hadn’t shown anyone the property in… ever. It was always a secret. Art liked it that way. That’s what made it so safe. It was so different now from what he’d built— so you start with something you built. 

“The gardens,” you enter between a row of onions, turning to face him while you walk backward, “Twelve rows of all of your dietary needs and wants with only a 4 to 6-month waiting period on the product.”

You’re putting on the dumbest commercial announcement voice you can manage. You think you see the ghost of a smile tug at his lips… just barely. You count it as a small victory.

“Looks dead.” He comments, probably noticing over half of the rows are bare. Mostly the greens section. 

“If you wanted to see it in its full glory you should have gotten beat up at least a month earlier.” You turn, leaving the garden and heading for the first shed.

You think you catch the corner of his mouth tick up, just slightly, before you continue on your way.

_______

There’s chickens scurrying through the whole garden. You greet them all by specific names as he follows behind you. They don’t even move out of the way when he approaches, completely desensitized to human presence. He’s a little annoyed that he has to make the extra effort to avoid them while on crutches. At least he knows where the eggs came from now. 

You’re standing in front of a shed on the other end of the garden. The dog behind him might as well be nipping at his heels to get him to move faster. He’s not used to these damn things. God, he already feels a little worn down just limping a few yards away from the house. Pathetic. 

He tries to hide catching his breath when he finally makes it to your side at the shed. 

“You good?” You ask him. 

“Fine.” He brushes you off a little more harshly than he intended to. He looks at the overgrown faded red shed. A rotting plaque hangs above the large doorway. He reads it, “The Buck Shack?” 

“Unfortunately, the name came with the place,” You scoff, pushing the barn door out of the way. “This is the more boring of the sheds. Not that sheds can be that exciting but...” you trailed off. He noticed you did that a lot.

He’s only noticed two other structures on the property. If the name and the smell of this one were anything to indicate, this was the game processing shed. Inside there were maybe 2 pheasants and a rabbit hanging on the wall. Tw empty hooks hang from the rafters, likely for hanging a deer. Concrete floor with a drain in the center, the floor long since stained with the blood of past kills.

 A small smokehouse sat in the space with a rack lined sparsely with what he guessed was venison. He looks over at the large counter and sees an open drawer of cutting knives and immediately thinks how stupid you are for showing him this. Of course, he wouldn’t do anything to you, but he’s still a stranger at the end of the day. You don’t know anything about him and you’re showing him where all your sharp things are. Either you're threatening him a little or you're just that dumb. He can’t tell. 

Rows of antlered skulls lined the perimeter of the inside. Trophies of hunts long past. “The Buck Shack.” He says again. 

“Aptly named, though none of them are mine,” You smile and move over to the neighboring shed. This one is blue with no name apparently. The chicken coop rests in between the two.

He’ll admit, he’s a little more impressed with this one. There are full crates of vegetables on one side and shelves of stacked canned ones on the other. There are literal full garbage cans of apples and potatoes sitting in the corner. The things people would do to get their hands on a place like this.  No wonder you’ve been doing so well out here.

“And here’s the rest of the garden.” You smile proudly. 

Bill would like you, he decides. 

“Damn,” is all he says, limping into the space. “You grew all these? No trading?”

“Traded to get some of the original seeds,” you say, pushing a few more full bags of carrots and beets out of the way, “But that was a long time ago.”

He hobbles back outside and notices the rain barrels placed at the corners of each shed and a hose coiled up next to them. So you used rainwater for the plants but what about the house?

He follows you around the overgrown cabin and gets his answer. You had your own damn water reservoir. A massive corrugated steel tank just up the hill from the house. He’d helped install something like it in some ranch fields back when the world was still whole. It held maybe 5,000 gallons if he had to guess. It sat on the hill just high enough for any pipes to get flow from it. That’s how your plumbing worked out here with no power— You had yourself a little water tower. Gravity did the work for you. 

“How long did that take to set up?” He asks, gesturing his head towards the holding tank. 

You smile, likely a little proud of yourself, “About a year to get it figured out. The tank was already up there when I got here so that made it easy. Getting the pipes though, was rough. But I had more help back then.”

“And filling it?”

“A manual pump another few more yards up the hill. Go up there for about an hour each week.” You kick one of the half-full barrels at the corner of the house. “It’s a workout. Maybe you can do it in a few weeks and see.”

“Maybe.” Joel scoffs. A hand-pumped well. Was there anything here that you didn’t have to do manually? He turns and notices two cellar doors on the edge of the house. “What about down there?” He nods towards them.

“Oh, this is where I keep the bodies,” You answer just a little too quickly, tapping your foot over the rickety wooden doors. He knows it's a joke, a bad one, but he doesn’t laugh. You roll your eyes and swing the doors open, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You quickly walk down the steps and he slowly follows, taking each step cautiously. He really hates crutches. 

Daylight streams in from above just enough to dimly light the little space. It’s dry storage, just like he suspected. Beans, rice, and some dwindling cans of some grocery store items he recognizes. And a few other fun treats of yours that look to be homemade.

“Wine?” He raises a brow, looking at the shelf of deep red bottles lining the far corner. 

“Chokecherry wine.” You confirm, “Had some spare time in the summer a few years ago. Found a bush and a recipe in an old cookbook and decided what the hell.”

“Any good?”

“Absolutely terrible, but it’ll get ya drunk,” You turn and gesture to the other mismatched bottles and jugs that fill the space. “We have maple syrup, some vinegar still, salt, whiskey, acorn flour—”

“Why are you showing me all this?” It comes out harsher than he wanted. He feels cornered, suddenly overwhelmed with it all. Is this all really here? Were you? The realization hits him like a freight train— This place was a fantasy. This couldn’t be real. 

A look of pain lightly marks your features. He’s immediately regretful, thinking he’s offended you in some way. 

“I just wanted you to…” You trail off softly, crossing your arms and looking away. “This isn’t a prison, Joel. It’s not a death camp either. It’s a home. It’s… safe here.”

The second realization washes over him like a soft wave, warm and assuring. You were showing him your home and in doing so, showing him he was safe. That everything was okay. That you could take care of him… easily. You genuinely wanted to put him at ease with it all. His chest tightens at the thought. 

“I’m sorry, I just—” He groaned, looking away as well. “You’ve done somethin’ special here, and it’s amazin’ but it’s… just a lot.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—” 

“No,” He cuts you off, “Don’t apologize. I’m grateful, I am, but–” he feels like an absolute ass. He’s been an ass to you, even after everything you’d done. “It’s a lot.”

“It’s okay Joel,” You smile sweetly, somehow forgetting how cold he’s been. He follows you out of the cellar silently like an embarrassed child.

You’re almost wholly self-sustained here. A marvel in every way. Christ, you even had a freaking wine cellar. 

Yeah, Bill would really like you. 

The thought of it makes Joel realize the one thing he hasn’t seen on this little tour. One very crucial thing. 

“Where’s your fence?”

You raise a brow, “What, for livestock? I don’t think I—”

“No, for people,” Joel is suddenly on edge about this little paradise, “For keepin’ people out.”

You pause, a small wave of… something passing over your face. Realization maybe? Pain? “I don’t need to keep people out.”

“What?” His hands tense on the crutches. 

“Joel, you’re the first person that’s made it this far in years.” There’s an emphasis in your statement but it doesn’t ebb any of his newfound worries. “Do you know how deep we are into the woods?”

He thinks, trying desperately to remember which direction he started walking once he was done with the smugglers, all banged up and battered with even more death on his conscience and blood on his hands. He thinks it was north but he can’t be sure anymore. It’s all a blur now. He has no idea how far he walked, how many days it was— nothing.

“No.” He simply says. 

“We’re safe, I promise,” you attempt to assure him. You smile and gesture to something further over to the edge of the property. He follows you, stopping right next to a massive flowering bush.

“Lilac?” He says, recognizing the pale purple flowers. They’re fading and spotting in brown, but still smell like summer. A sweet scent he doesn’t think he’s smelled in years. It lifts his spirits, just for a moment. 

“Planted them and a few other things all along the border.” You gently cradle one of the bundles of flowers, “These are my wall. You can barely see the house from a distance, what with all the overgrowth on the walls and roof. We’re safe.”

He wants to believe you. He desperately does but he can’t bring himself to. While what you did here was truly something, you were being incredibly naïve thinking these were enough. Flowers to protect you from the world out there? Completely foolish.

Then he thinks about what you said earlier. He’s the first person that has come here in years. Years?

“Who else you got out here?” he asks, cautiously. He’s seen no proof of anyone else but this can’t all just be you running this place like a well-oiled machine. 

“You’re looking at the full crew here,” you scratch the dog's ears next to you. 

“Traders come over?”

“Nope.”

“Just you?”

“And Gus. Well, you met Lily earlier. She counts too.”

“How long have you been up here? Alone?”

You pause as if trying actually to recall the number. Time loses so much meaning these days.  Or maybe you're embarrassed to say. You eventually answer. 

“Five years.”

______

The day slowly rolls into the evening and neither of you has interacted much since the tour. He was clearly exhausted from limping around the property by the end, so you insisted he lay down for a nap. After some heavy convincing, he eventually relented. A stubborn man, but not a completely dumb one. 

You admittedly feel a little embarrassed from earlier. Strolling him around like a child showing off a school project. You wanted him to feel secure and form a little more trust— but you think you just ended up making him uncomfortable in the end. 

Have you really been here 5 years? It was probably so obvious to everyone but you— Your unwanted social isolation. It was this or scrounging for scraps and being worked like a dog in the QZ, at least that’s what people told you. Being cooped up and monitored like animals. You know what choice you’d make ten times out of ten. 

Still, your predicament was a weird one. You saw the shock in his face when you revealed it. Or maybe it was disgust? Or pity? Maybe all three. Either way, it all ended there and you went back to canning and he retreated to the house.

The sun was setting now, signaling it was time to head in for the evening but you didn’t want to. You don’t want to face him or the potential of a million questions about your strange little life here all by yourself. Now you know how he probably feels. You were so eager earlier, but now… now you just feel like an idiot. 

Eventually, you of course work up the courage to walk back into your house, Gus sitting lazily by the door waiting for you. It was the first time you hadn’t seen him watching Joel’s every movement like a hawk. You guess you all made some progress today. 

The bedroom door is closed when you enter the house, with Joel nowhere in sight. 

You brought in a pheasant for dinner. Stoking the wood stove, you start to chop up any vegetables you’re afraid will go bad— A head of broccoli and some wilting spinach. You place the prepared pheasant in a broiler pot and feed its leftover bits to Gus, as usual. 

“Gizzards and guts. Your favorite,” You scratch the dog's ear. Upon hearing Gus’s obnoxious slobbering, Lilly comes strolling down the hall. You hadn’t seen her since this afternoon, “Decided to stay for the evening, princess? Or you just want a free meal?”

You grab a small chunk of meat from Gus’s bowl and toss it her way. This was your usual night. Alone at the kitchen counter with your strange little family— your whole world. 

You hear the bedroom door creak open and uneven footsteps clomp down the hall. 

Joel takes a seat at the small bar counter opposite you and you instantly feel put on the spot. Like you’re an insect being observed. 

What’s the strange hermit woman doing now?

“How’d you rest?” you passively start the conversation as you place the broccoli into its own roasting pan.

“Fine.” He answers bluntly, staring down at his fingers as he picks his nails. You wonder if he feels like he has to interact with you now. If he’s doing this out of pity or obligation. “Your place is… really nice.”

Mmm, enthralling conversation. 

“Thank you.” You say, mindlessly stirring the vegetables around. 

A pause. 

“Did you find it or a family thing or—”

“Family friend.” You answer, “Well… friend-ish.”

His brows knit together, “Friend-ish?”

Does he really want to know? You tell him anyway. You hadn’t just talked to someone in so long.

“His name was Art. Most crotchety mean old man you’d ever meet.” You smile, remembering his wrinkled face, “My dad was his only friend. He tolerated me. They were the town doctors.”

“What town?” His interest is peaked.

“West Lake. Used to be about 7 miles north from here.” You point in the general direction, “Used to be a town of probably no more than a thousand people. Quiet place.”

“That’s where you’re from?”

“I used to be.” You confirm. 

Then more bloated silence. You’ve shared so much of yourself with him now and he’s said nothing. You only just learned his name today. He opened up on his terms, and that was fine. It just felt so strange when you were an open book.

You don’t like this. You don’t like your every move being watched or like you’re stepping on pins and needles in your own home. Is this how it used to be? No, surely not. Something about him though. It sets you on edge.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says. Oh? You turn around to face him. “About earlier. How I’ve been actin’. I’m not… used to this. To bein’ taken care of. It’s usually the other way around.”

“I can tell.” You fucking idiot.

“You made something special here,” He continues as if you’d said nothing, “I just… I don’t know what to do with myself. I wanna be useful.” 

Right on cue, Lilly jumps on the counter and rubs against his forearm. He reciprocates with a passive head scratch and an irritated sigh.

“You are useful,” You smile, “You’re keeping Lilly company.” 

“Damn thing wouldn’t leave me alone.” He looks at the cat with endearment in his eyes, but his overall expression remains sullen. He seemed to always look that way.

“Well at least one of them likes you,” You both turn to Gus sitting idly next to the counter, eyes once again glued to Joel.

“I don’t blame him,” Joel returns Gus’s pointed look. 

You feel a fraction of the tension melt off. Just a little. He was getting comfortable here. Good. If he was comfortable then so were you.

Dinner passes in relative silence, as to be expected for your first official meal together. This wasn’t a first date or anything. Just a meal between two temporary housemates. He didn’t need to share his whole life story with you and you didn’t need to share any more of yours.

You take his empty plate and stack it on yours.

“So, I have to change your bandages again.” You say it almost like a question. Like you’re asking permission. 

He looks at you with a slightly puzzled expression, “Alright.” He simply says with a nod. 

You drop the dishes in the kitchen and return with some new gauze and a bowl of hot water. He takes the hint and removes his shirt before you can even ask. His movements are slow and pained, not that you mind watching him for just a little longer. 

He leans over the table while you scoot a chair over and begin your work. He flinches as you remove his crusted-over old bandages. The area around the wound was tender and red, but no signs of infection. Good.

You start to gently clean it.

“What were you… before it all?” You start the small talk up again. Something easy. 

“General contractor,” he answers, “You?”

“Nurse.”

“I never would have guessed.”

You pause… was that a joke? Well, at least he’s loosening up.

You smile to yourself. “Only worked in the hospital for about a year before it hit. Ended up getting more medical practice after the world ended.”

“Ain’t that a bitch.” You swear you can hear an amused smile in his voice. He was getting comfortable around you. Just the simple thought of it warms your heart— just a little.

“You still building stuff in the QZ?”

He lets the question linger but eventually answers. “Not really.”

There was something there. You shouldn’t pry more but you go on anyway, “Are you a firefly, or—”

“No.” He answers curtly, “A smuggler but at the end of the day I’m… not really anything.”

Not really anything, huh? That didn’t seem true from what little you know about him. Still, you don’t push it anymore. Maybe he’ll tell you all about it in due time. When he’s ready.

This time he asks the question first. 

“What’s that?” He nods his head toward the corner— toward Art’s old guitar. 

“A decoration, mostly.” You answer, wiping the area around his wound dry. 

“You don’t play?”

“God no,” you snort, “I’ve plucked around on it a few times but it’s not my thing. Missing a few strings now anyway.”

“You can do plenty with a few strings.” He stares at it, almost mesmerized. A guitar was a rare thing now, you suppose.

“There’s a few changes of strings in the drawer next to it,” You inform him, “Art kept backups for everything. I never knew how to change them myself so I just left it be. Just thought I’d break it.”

He doesn’t say anything else but you can see the gears in his head turning. So he plays. He’s found something here he can actually do. Something he can hopefully enjoy. Good. 

You finish taping his bandages down and give him a pat on the knee, “Okay, you’re good to go.”

He grunts what you can only assume to be a thank you and rolls his shirt back on. You made progress today. Gaining trust and giving some in return. Learning a little bit more about one another. You didn’t need a life story but feeling more comfortable around each other would be nice. At least if he was going to stay here for a while.

A selfish part of you hopes he does. That he stays as long as he can. Then you could finally have someone. Not even in a romantic sense but just… someone. Anyone. And the other, more logical part of you, knows he’ll probably be gone the second he can bear to put any weight on that foot. 

He had a life he had to get back to. People who probably needed him. What’s that name he called you? Tess. He could be a husband and father for all you knew. But then again, you feel like he would have mentioned that by now. You’re sure you’ll find out one way or another. You’ll learn who Joel Miller is, eventually. For now, though, you’ll keep doing what you’ve always been doing.

Taking it one day at a time.

You get up to walk to your place on the couch, an old fantasy book waiting on the coffee table for you. 

“There isn’t another bedroom in here, is there?” He asks.

“Just the one.” You answer, fluffing out the quilt over the couch. 

“Okay,” he limps towards you, “I’ll sleep out here.”

“Joel, it’s fine you don’t have to—“

He gently grabs your wrist and you instantly feel every hair on your body stand up.

“You give too much. I won’t take your bed too. It’s your house. Sleep in your bed.”

Not wanting to argue, and admittedly wanting to sleep on a mattress again, you silently retreat back to your bedroom. The sheets smell like him. You don’t entirely mind. If anything just because it was something different. Something new. 

This was all going to be new. 

______

You wake up the next morning and find Art’s guitar re-strung and tuned to perfection— Joel fast asleep next to it. 

[harrywavycurly]

I’m selfishly asking for some Uncle Steve and Dot content please Sarah 😘😘😘

Hiii babes!! I friggin LOVE Steve and Dorothy’s relationship so I will happily give you some convos between them!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here✨

*for these Dotty is in middle school*

“Hey there she is! My favorite niece!” “I’m your only niece…what are you wearing?” “Even if I had other nieces you’d still be my favorite…what you don’t like the new vest?” “Your old one had all the patches mom and I sewed on for you.” “Oh…I mean I still have them if you wanna add them to this one?” “Eh it doesn’t matter…so dad said you’re in charge of me until they get done with dinner and then…my mom told me to tell you if you make me work then you better pay me.” “When have I ever made you work when you come hang out with me at the store?” “Uh…last week? I stocked the candy for you while you talked to what’s her face on the phone for ten minutes.” “God you sound just like your mom when you say what’s her face…her name is Nancy by the way.” “Nancy? Isn’t she married?” “Yeah…so? What’s your point?” “Uncle Steve…” “it was a friendly chat okay? She called to see if we had a certain movie in stock that’s all….but uhm…don’t tell your mom please? She’s still weird about her.” “Okay but it’s gonna cost ya…” “red vines or Swedish fish?” “Red vines.” “Deal.”

“You did great out there!” “Thanks uncle Steve…did you watch the whole practice or just the end?” “Oh I was here for the whole thing…that little kick and jump thing you did was just…out of this world good.” “You don’t know anything about cheerleading do you?” “No…not really…” “dad said you dated a lot of them so you should know a thing or two.” “Your dad doesn’t know shi…anything…about who I’ve dated so don’t listen to him.” “I can show you a few new tumbles I learned last week if you want?” “Tumbles? Is that like when you…oh wow that’s impressive! Look at you go!” “What’d ya think? I really want to make the squad in high school.” “Oh you’re going to make the squad alright…probably even head cheerleader.” “Shut up you really think so?” “Yeah you’re great!” “Thanks…oh can we go to Benny’s on the way home? It’s half off cheese fry night.” “You and your mom with this sick obsession with cheese fries…” “is that a yes?” “Yes…it’s a yes.”

“Hello?” “Hey Uncle Steve.” “Hey my little polkadot what’s going on?” “I was calling to see if you could come pick me up from school?” “School? It’s like five in the evening what have you been doing since two thirty?” “Uhm…detention…” “do your parents know you were at detention?” “Yes they are just at work right now and I don’t feel like walking home and Granddaddy Wayne is taking his pre dinner nap.” “I’ll come get you if…you tell me what you got detention for?” “I may have accidentally hit someone in the face with my hand.” “Right…was this hand balled up into a fist?” “Possibly….” “Who’d you hit?” “Patrick Carver…he’s an asshole.” “Did you say Carver? As in his dad’s name is Jason?” “I don’t know his dad’s name all I know is mom said the whole family is bad news and that’s why she wasn’t that mad….” “But?” “But dad wasn’t happy and told me I’m grounded for two weeks and to keep my hands to myself.” “I hate to say this but I agree with your dad but also…the Carver family is full of asshole so…just next time don’t hit him on school property and it’ll be fine.” “That’s what mom said!” “Just sit tight and I’ll be there in a few minutes…you hungry?” “I could do with a snack yeah…” “we’ll grab some dinner on the way to drop you off at your mom’s work.” “Okay sounds good…thanks uncle Steve…I love you.” “I love you too Dot but do me a favor and stop getting so many detentions.” “You got it.”

[ridiasfangirlings]

I had a dream that I was a ghost and the only person who could see me was my crush so... this but SaruMi.

Imagine this post-betrayal but pre-reconciliation, and neither one has any clue why only the other person can see them. Like imagine Yata’s out chasing a Strain causing issues in Homra’s territory. Kamamoto is helping him and they manage to corner the Strain but then Yata gets hit, Kamamoto is also knocked down for a moment. When he looks up Yata’s nowhere to be seen and Kamamoto looks around worriedly, yelling Yata’s name. Yata meanwhile slowly sits up, shaking his head and sweating because what the hell was that. He tells Kamamoto to stop yelling, he’s right here, but Kamamoto completely ignores him. Yata’s like hey shut up I’m here you know, standing right in front of Kamamoto, and Kamamoto worriedly yells ‘Yata-san! Where are you?’ as he walks right through Yata. Yata just freezes all ‘eh?’ and looks down at his hands, which are translucent, and promptly screams.

Poor Yata is just freaking out now, like did that asshole Strain kill me and now I’m a g-g-ghost. He shakes his head like no I gotta be cool about this, I can’t be a ghost right. He does at least realize that there’s no body and that makes him relax a little, he was chasing a Strain after all so this must just be a Strain’s power. He figures well Kamamoto can’t see him but he’ll just go back to Homra and Mikoto-san will definitely recognize him, or at least Anna will. Yata follows Kamamoto back to the bar, where Kamamoto tells everyone what happened. Kusanagi looks worried and says he’ll look into what the Strain power is, all while Yata’s waving his arms and yelling that he’s right here. Anna looks like something is bothering her but then she shakes her head, looking right through Yata like everyone else. Yata’s immediately deflated, he has no idea what to do now.

It’s weird having people walk through him at the bar so he decides to go try and find the Strain on his own, like maybe he can haunt that asshole into fixing him. As he’s walking down the street he passes a S4 blockade and decides to check it out, thinking maybe they’re after the same Strain. The S4 guys of course can’t see him either and Yata easily walks through them, thinking maybe there’s one good thing about being a ghost. That’s when a knife hits the ground by his feet. Yata falls backward and a couple of the S4 boys ask Fushimi what happened, Fushimi ignores them as he grins and says it’s awfully bold of Yata to walk right through a S4 blockade. Yata’s all you guys don’t own the street you know before cutting off as he realizes that Fushimi can see him. Yata’s like wait you really see me Saruhiko and Fushimi clicks his tongue all of course I do, you’re right there idiot. Hidaka nervously asks Fushimi if he’s okay, it sounds like he’s talking to someone but no one’s there. Fushimi raises an eyebrow all confused and Yata laughs weakly as he says it’s a long story. 

Fushimi tries to drag Yata over away from everyone but imagine even though he can see Yata he can’t touch Yata either and his hand passes right through. Fushimi’s face goes pale and his breath hitches for just a moment before he recovers himself and grumbles at Yata to follow him. Once they’re alone Fushimi asks Yata what’s going on, Yata laughs weakly and says he ran into a Strain and somehow only Fushimi can see him. He wonders why that is, grumbling that it’s just his luck that the only one who can see him is a dirty traitor. Fushimi says he doesn’t want to be the only one who sees Yata either, telling Yata to go away. Yata’s like wait you can’t just leave me like this, help me out. Fushimi’s all why should I, we’re enemies remember, and Yata’s like well this a Strain thing right, it’s your job to handle this shit isn’t it. Fushimi says Yata isn’t his boss and Yata’s all come on Saruhiko please, Fushimi scoffs that of course Yata’s asking for his help only when there’s no one else. Yata groans and is like fine, I’ll just be like this forever. 

He’s ready to walk away when Fushimi mutters ‘one day.’ Yata’s all ‘huh?’ and Fushimi matter-of-factly says S4 has been chasing the Strain that attacked Yata and the power wears off in a day, he just needs to wait it out. Yata’s immediately relieved all so I’m not gonna be stuck as a ghost. Fushimi’s all good, you have your answer now leave me alone. Yata hesitates and then awkwardly says well, thanks for the help and Fushimi just snaps at him to go so Fushimi can get back to his work. Once Yata’s gone Fushimi goes back to the alphabet squad, Akiyama has the information about the Strain up on a screen and is giving a debriefing. He mentions that his Strain can turn someone into a ghost and the only person who can see you is the person you’re in love with and Fushimi’s face is totally blank as he says what a stupid power, that can’t be the reason at all.