#its the same either side of this line. even though i left i took that place with me somehow

[devnmon]

You Deserve the World

Originally written by @avanatural; credit to her for the idea and inspiring me as well.

Summary: Daryl's been insecure about his age starting to show, and is worried he'll lose you. You show him every way he won't.

warnings: comfort, (a lil angst), fluff, implied smut.

wc: 3.4k

Daryl's back ached.

He slid the bow from his back and dropped it onto a wooden side table, letting it clatter loudly. His vest was the next thing pulled off his body, left on the chair beside his bow. Unbuttoning his shirt, the cotton tightened around his biceps, until he finally ripped it from his torso and left the shirt on the ground behind him.

Now freed from the confines of his tight clothing, his arms stretched out, muscles flexing in the process. Daryl glanced around the room per usual, until his eyes came across the mirror in the corner of your room. Slowly, he sauntered towards it, pushing his shoulders down as he approached.

The archer studied himself intently. All of his features remained as they were - same cerulean eyes, distinctive birthmarks, scar crossing over his left eyebrow and part of his cheek, and his rounded nose. Daryl couldn't help the fact of time passing, and he definitely couldn't help the fact that aging was catching up with him. A few new lines on his face became more prominent, and the bags under his eyes from minimal sleep only bore into him further.

He tried to force a smile, but stopped before the realization of wrinkles and other lines made him even more self-conscious. Daryl grunted to himself, before running a hand through the tousled hickory of his hair. Sunlight hit the crown of his head, illuminating its unwashed state, along with the few grey hairs that managed to show themselves. The hairs of his beard were the first on him to become grey without him knowing.

Aging was an aspect of life he couldn't get used to. He didn't want to get used to it either. Though it was only a part of growing older with time. Not only did he grow accustomed to working out more often in order to stay on top of his game, but his hunting agility was having a lower success rate each time he was out there.

On the contrary, he'd been worried about keeping up with his partner.

You, the one of his dreams. If his aging continued at the rate it began, he was worried that you'd grow tired of his older features and desire someone younger than him. Someone better than him.

Daryl knew you were popular amongst the men of Alexandria, those better options only poking at the back of his throat as if it were bile waiting to give. Being in a constant state of hyperawareness whenever you two were out in the community had exhausted him to his core.

Every time one of Deanna's sons or any of the other guys in the community even caught a glance of you from across the courtyard, Daryl wanted to pummel them into the ground, but push you into their arms from his all the same.

Although Daryl felt this way, he realized the strength of your bond with him went deeper than just physical attraction. The two of you cared deeply for one another, and you always tried to clear his mind of any negative thoughts.

You're enough the way you are, my love. I don't want you any other way than that.

With a deep breath, Daryl decided to push the nagging thoughts from his mind and trudge over to the dresser. He fidgeted with the button of his jeans, pulling them off his legs and ending up next to the shirt he'd tossed as well.

There was conveniently another mirror in the corner, one that took the full image of him into account. It was noticeable to him when he'd noticed movement from out of his peripheral vision. It would have only taken a glance to the left before seeing his figure in full length. Stood in only a pair of boxers, his hands sifted through one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of black jeans. A glance downward at his body stopped his movements, and the pair of pants fell from his grip.

Despite everything telling him not to, his eyes drifted to the left. Once the full image of him in the mirror hit his eyes, the disgusting thoughts he had a moment before busted down the door in his mind. Daryl stepped in front of the mirror, jeans left on the dresser.

Cerulean eyes raked over every inch of his body as harmful thoughts flooded his head again. His thighs weren't as taught as they once were, his pecs weren’t as defined. His fingertips grazed over the expanse of his belly, where some scars lay not as prominent as others. Eyebrows furrowed and a scowl made its way onto his face.

His partner was perfect to him, and he wanted to be perfect to them, too.

As if you'd read his mind, you came walking into the room, same smile on your face that made Daryl want to live forever. He hadn't noticed you at first, standing against the doorway. You tilted your head to the side, taking in the view of him in only boxers, hands tracing his stomach.

"Checking yourself out?" you chuckled softly, picking up a book on a dresser near the door.

Daryl's eyes locked on his reflection, his button nose scrunching up.

When he didn't reply with one of his quips or side comments like you were expecting, you took notice of the furrowed eyebrows and slouched state.

You'd noticed something different in Daryl these days. One look at the displeasure on his face, and you realized something was up. More solo hunts, fewer intimate moments in the bedroom.

Daryl, of all people, was insecure about how he looked.

Your lip caught between your teeth, dropping the book back onto the dresser. "Daryl, are you alright?" Shuffling over to him, you placed a hand on his shoulder. The contact made his muscles flex, the warmth of your palm against him growing his enamor for you.

Daryl sighed, knowing he'd been brushing you off every time you asked him if he was okay. His avoidance level had dwindled down to nothing, not wanting to push you away any more than he already had. You were his person, the one he could always confide in, and you listened every single time.

"Do you- Do you think I'm gettin' old?" he questioned under his breath, eyes still unwavering from the mirror.

Your chest tightened at the mere suggestion of his aging. To you, Daryl was the most perfect anyone could ever be- his aura, his personality, his appearance, his quips, even his idiosyncrasies, but most of all, his heart.

"No, I don't," you replied honestly, "You been thinkin' about that a lot, huh?"

Daryl's shoulders stiffened as he finally ripped his eyes away from the view of the mirror, turning completely to face you. Reaching out to cup his cheek in a loving touch, he leaned into it and closed his eyes.

"What made you think about that?" you inquired, letting go of his cheek and trailing your fingers over the soft hairs that adorned his face.

Daryl's eyes opened again, lines on his face reappearing in the furrowed state of his eyebrows. "I know the way those pricks in the town look at ya.. Younger guys."

Your gaze shifted back and forth from his sapphire eyes, the realization hitting you. "Is this about Spencer?"

When you'd first gotten to Alexandria, your relationship with Daryl was just beginning. You hadn't told the rest of your group about it yet, but from the first time you saw the older Monroe, he had his eye on you. He'd admittedly been attractive to you at first, but he had absolutely nothing on your Daryl.

Spencer had pulled you aside the night of Deanna's party, asking you questions about yourself and wanting to get to know you better. His motives seemed innocent but there was a slight glint of mischief in his eye. When he suggested something more perverted, you knew he only saw you as a one night stand and nothing more. You explained to him that you weren't interested, on account of being taken by a different, better man.

Spencer Monroe could never compare to Daryl Dixon.

"He didn't want me like you want me. I could never want that asshole, and I don't." If Daryl knew the things Spencer said about him after you told him you were taken, he would have pummeled his face into the ground.

"I'm way older than you," Daryl mumbled, "One day ya might wanna take him up on that, or any of 'em."

"You really think I want them? That they're better than you?" you questioned, your hand grabbing his.

"Don't ya think so?"

You scoffed, "What could any one of them give me? I know for a fact that they couldn't be as good to me as you are. I'm a damn lucky person to have you. I scored you, Daryl Dixon. Not the other way around. You always had my back, every time I've needed you."

"'Course I do, an' you always got mine, too. I jus' don't see why," He shook his head, "You don't gotta settle for me-"

"You know what? Enough, look into the mirror right here," you stated, grasping his shoulders and turning him to see his figure. "Let's start with your shoulders." You gave them a slight squeeze, flesh emerging from between your fingers. "They're so big and broad, and I'm obsessed with them."

Your statement made a corner of Daryl's mouth jolt upwards, forming just the tiniest bit of smile on his face. His mind brought him back to the memories of you gripping them when intertwined in a hug or kiss, but especially when you were making love.

You shuffled to stand next to him, affectionately running your fingers down his thick forearm. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, you took his hand in yours. "These hands and arms of yours are so strong, especially when you're holding me close, when you touch me. You know I appreciate how handy you are, especially when you're using that crossbow of yours, and working on your bike or cars."

Daryl hummed, intertwining his fingers with yours.

Smiling at his reflection, you continued, "I adore your stomach, know that? You're all muscle and firm where it matters most, but the softness of your stomach doesn't compare to the rest of you. I find that so incredibly sexy, know that?"

"Ya really like that?" Daryl questioned with disbelief, locking his eyes with yours in the reflection.

You nodded, leaning your cheek against his arm before placing a soft kiss on his bicep. "Yeah, I do." You already knew the tension in his body was starting to dissipate. "You wanna know what else I think?"

"Mhm," He replied almost instantly. Daryl felt selfish asking for your compliments, but he knew you'd give them to him every time he asked. It was simply too fulfilling to pass up.

"Your thighs are perfect, and they're such a strong part of you. I love sitting on them in your lap. And this?" You dropped his hand from yours, sliding it behind him to lightly squeeze his butt. He jolted slightly at the contact and smirked. "This is firm and so cute. A lot perkier than mine, too."

Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but your hands began to play with the hem of his boxers near his crotch, silencing him. "I assume this morning is a good example of what I think about this?"

His smirk widened, filling him with satisfaction of the fact that he could still make you feel good in bed.

"Don't even get me started on your pretty face," You shifted, cupping his cheeks with your hands again. Your eyes trailed over his face, taking in his intoxicating features. "Your eyes are so deep, like the ocean. When you look at me, I forget what I'm going to say most times."

Daryl shifted closer, purposely to make you flustered. His eyes met yours in the playful way he'd done a thousand times before, and you recognized the expression immediately.

"Don't do that to me now.." You said, rolling your eyes.

A hearty chuckle erupted from him at your flustered state, wrinkles around his eyes emerging once again.

"Your lips are so damn tempting, pretty and pink like they were made for mine," you went on, "You have perfect teeth and whenever you smile at me, my heart jumps a mile high. I'm also jealous of your birthmark, and how it gets to go everywhere with you on that handsome face of yours. But this..." you took a moment to run your hands along the wispy hairs of his chin and jaw, "is my favorite thing to feel when we kiss."

"Oh, really?" He questioned, that signature smirk of his growing inch by inch, "Guess I better kiss ya more often."

You beamed at his words, a blush rushing onto your cheeks as you let go of his face. "I'm such a lucky woman to have you, such an attractive man, by my side. You say guys notice me, but you aren't aware of just how many women practically drool over you when you're around the town. Warms my heart and makes me jealous at the same time," you confessed.

Daryl's head tilted to the side, "You got nothin' to worry about, sunshine."

"Well, neither do you, got that?"

He sighed, meeting your gaze with enamor filled eyes, another smirk tugging at his lips, "Yes, ma'am."

Daryl leaned down to your face and attached his lips to yours. His kiss was soft and slow, a low hum escaping you. His toned arms surrounded your waist, pulling you in close to his chest.

Your hands flew up around his neck, toying with the long strands, "I'm obsessed with your hair, too." You told him after pulling back from the kiss.

His grasp only tightened around you, arms flexing around your waist, bodies pressed together. Your foreheads slightly touched as you talked quietly.

"I gotta few gray hairs..." He retorted, those large hands of his snaking behind to your lower back.

"Yes.. and? You'd look so hot with gray hair."

"You sayin' ya wanna grow old with me, hun?" He inquired, hands squeezing around your butt now.

You grinned up at him through your lashes, "Of course. That is, if we live long enough to do so."

Daryl sighed, "Sounds good to me, darlin'. Now, I believe you were talkin' about my hair.."

You took the opening to run your hands through his bangs, pushing back the strands of hair that framed his face. "I love your long hair, It's so pretty and wavy, for a man like you. I'd love to braid it sometime, if you'd let me. Don't think a guy like Spencer could pull it off as well as you do."

"You love playin' with my hair, don't ya?" He questioned, voice lowering. His large palms rested comfortably on your behind. Daryl enjoyed touching your butt, even when it wasn't in a sexual way. Because of you, he craved intimacy in its most raw form, and with you, it came even easier.

"Absolutely," you responded, taking away what little distance was left between them and rejoining your lips with his. Daryl picked up on the change in tension between you two and grasped at your behind a lot firmer than before, using his strong grip to push his crotch against yours.

You mewled into his mouth when she felt the tent in his boxers against you, but you weren't done yet. You placed your hands on his broad chest, and pulled back.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, eyes darkened with lust.

Your fingers found the tattoos on his chest, the heart and other small ones littered across his collarbones. "I have more to say, that's all."

"An' what's that?"

"Your body isn't the only thing about you that makes me crazy for you."

The thought of you worrying about him in this state made his heart race, since he hadn't been thinking very highly of himself. The truth was, Daryl had been thinking that way his entire life, and couldn't help it. Brought up by people who only put him down and made him think so little of himself, he weighed his decisions with every one he made. When he met you, though, was the first time in his life he'd witnessed genuine love and support. You managed to bring him back from those moments every single time he got trapped in one.

You knew he deserved to be loved the way he was, with nothing standing in the way between you and his true self. In this world, he deserved to be given the same amount of love and support that Daryl gave to everyone in the community.

Just hearing about what you thought of him, in every way possible, kept him going in the darkest of times.

"Daryl, there's never been anyone in my life like you, you're so good to me," you said, tone in your voice filled with disbelief. "You think anyone else could treat me the same way you do? Those pricks only want to get in my pants, and dropped me like a fly when they realized I wasn't interested. But you, you became my best friend before anything. You became the one person in my life who knew me. Like, really knew me. And then I just.. fell for you in the process. I'm the luckiest person in the world to have you."

You could've sworn a blush crept its way onto his cheeks, but he dropped his head before you could see better. Two of your fingers looped under his chin and lifted it again. "Don't ever hang your head, Daryl Dixon. You are the best man I know. I've never met anybody as caring as you. I see it in everything you do, the way you care about Rick, about that little girl, Jude? It warms my heart to see. You deserve the world, Daryl."

Daryl knew every word out of your mouth was true. He knew you would never lie to him, and even then, you were terrible at it. The minute you got lost in his ocean eyes, every little fib crumbled to nothing. Like all things, Daryl was better at expressing himself with actions, and not many words. He pulled you into another kiss, and it took your breath away. His strong arms hooked under your thighs, scooping your body up into his arms. A squeal threatened to leave your chest, but it only got swallowed by the archer's lips on yours.

Without restraint, he carried you over to your bed, one you both shared on many occasions, letting his weight fall back on top of it. You giggled as you landed on top of him, taking his pretty face into your hands again and slipped your lips between his. He groaned, hands attaching to your waist as you attempted to deepen the kiss.

Daryl slid his tongue across your bottom lip, making you moan into his kiss. In response, he opened his mouth to you, tongue gliding across yours with desire. A moment passed before Daryl pushed you over onto the bed, now hovering over you.

All the kissing made you hot, and pretty soon your hands were clawing at Daryl's boxers, chuckling at you as he pushed them down his legs, leaving him bare between you both.

"Hey, now. Tha's not fair at all, is it?" Daryl questioned, very upset with the fact that you couldn't be more clothed. His hands immediately went for your shirt, tugging it over your head. Your pants and underwear followed, placing hungry kisses along the expanses of your skin. There was something different about Daryl now, he hadn't resumed the usual acts of self-consciousness he had recently been taking part in.

Though his hand reached out to turn the lamp in your room off, he felt a restraint when his fingers met the button. Since the days of his insecurities, he felt safe in the darkness while making love to you. It meant security, and kept him from the nervousness that came with the thought of being judged by you.

But now, he didn't have a reason to hide anything from you anymore. His hand resumed his loving touches on your skin. You loved all of him, every single part. There wasn't anything luckier than that.

"How 'bout I leave this on?" he declared, locking his eyes with yours.

"I'd like that."

[meowhara]

࿐.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒆

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ miguel o’hara x fem siren!reader

cw : blood and gore (not much but still)

synopsys : miguel's residence was a unique one, though nobody knew the existence of a deadly being inhabiting beneath it

It was always the same question whenever anyone visited his house. They’re always wondering why it was built like that. Some parts of his house where the tiles should be, were replaced by thick glasses. Clear enough to see the deep blue water underneath. His house was practically built over a gigantic man made body of water. It wasn’t an empty body of water either, there was life thriving underneath. The variety of fishes no matter what sizes or kind live there with coral reefs and underwater plants for the aquatic creatures to live in. Making a whole complete living underwater ecosystem.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” Miguel huffed, his back facing the man that considered him a friend just because they met back in college.

“You. Look at this place.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?” He popped open a bottle of fine alcohol and poured a glass for himself, then leaned on the kitchen’s counter before taking a sip.

“No… Not really.” The man reverts his gaze to the wide window behind Miguel. The marine life beyond that window was just stunning. For somebody like Miguel, having this kind of lifestyle wouldn’t be anyone’s first guess.

Miguel rolled his eyes from his reply, walking off from the counter with his drink before walking upstairs. “Would you mind leaving? I’m busy.” He scowled.

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

Miguel’s eyes twitched, isn’t he just polite?

He set himself down on a couch in the middle of the room. The living room was a unique one. There’s a spot where the tiles are supposed to be, left absent and empty. Leaving a literal two rectangular pool connected to each other’s ends, with a wide angle where an “L” shaped marine blue sofa that stretches for at least three meters long on both of its sides. A coffee table made out of thin marble with an oval shape in the center which was also in blue, decorated with gold lining.

The pool, oddly, is a wide one. It was made so that a whole human could slip through it, rather than for decorational purposes. Nobody really pointed it out in the past though, it seems to be a normal thing for anyone to have in their home if they had the money for it. Most people would drown from how deep the pool is if they're not careful. The bottom of the pool was out of the question from how deep it was intentionally made.

The ceiling was high above with water flowing down, forming a thin wall made out of water. Flowing down onto the same pool in the middle of the room. Tall windows on one end of the house, showcasing the breathtaking beauty of Nueva York, especially at night.

His eyes focused on the ill-mannered man he barely knows. Watching each one of his moves carefully.

“Don’t you have a Girlfriend?”

“Broke up.” He answered quickly as the man stood before him after he finished strolling around uninvitedly.

“How did you get your hands on these types of creatures anyway? I’ve never even seen some of the fishes you have swimming around underneath these tiles.” He tapped his feet onto the transparent material underneath his feet. The fishes swam away from the loud thumping noises of his feet.

“I have my own way.” He spoke before taking another sip.

“Illegal?”

“No.” After a long pause, he continues, “Would you mind doing me a favor?” Miguel added.

“What favor?”

“Taking a few steps away?”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged, “Personal space.”

“Geez.” Unsuspectingly, he took a few steps back until his feet were almost touching the edge of the floating platform.

A low whistle escapes Miguel’s mouth seconds before a creature with high speed emerges from underneath the water. Slamming the unsuspecting man into the ground, knocking air out of his lungs. He felt its sharp fangs digging into his flesh with the creature’s weight pushing him forcefully onto the ground. A creature with a human-like body and a massive fin instead of legs hisses their sharp fangs at him, their hair long with water dripping down. Its eyes are as dangerous as the dark mysterious sea, ready to devour him at any second. The man’s eyes widened in sheer panic as he tried to push whatever it was away.

A smile plastered across the host’s face. Calmly sipping all the remaining wine into his system with his back relaxing against his seat. The man screamed, fighting for his life. He even begged for Miguel to save him. But he was too busy watching your beautiful form ripping flesh out of your prey’s body with your mouth. Watching his pet feasting on her favorite meal of the day. His screams died down eventually. The scene was a complete mess, chunks of meat everywhere with a mixture of blood and water splattered across the floor.

Miguel set the empty glass in his hand down before standing up and closing the distance between the both of you slowly. When you saw him approaching you and your meal, you hissed at him.

“Easy there, cupcake.” He scoffed, “I’m not going to steal him away.”

He stood there as you possessively dragged the remaining of your meal back into the pool. Drowning it with you. “That brat.” The word came out from his mouth followed by a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Lyla, clean this shit up for me.” He commanded the programmed woman.

“You're spoiling her Miguel.” She complained, her hollow body flickering in the dim lit room.

“I'm not. My baby got what she deserves.”

This has been going on for a pretty long time. People disappeared after entering his home, especially the uninvited ones. Although, there are some exceptions. There is someone that loves crashing into his place.

“How many times did I tell you to stop coming here?” His arms crossed over his chest as he scolded the only person that would leave his abode unharmed.

“It's not my fault you made this place very interesting.”

“That was not a reason for you to keep coming here every time I went to work.”

“Aww, don't brothers share?” Gabriel teased.

“I hate you.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I won't be coming here ever again.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, unamused by his little brother's promise.

“I won't be coming here ever again, if you let me have a party here.”

“No.” He didn't even think before the answer left his mouth.

“Then I'll pester you until the end of my life.”

“Go on then. I would rather you bother me rather than inviting people here.”

“Come on, my friends would love this place.”

Miguel's eyes were not focused on him after he saw a glimpse of your eyes inside the pool from where he's standing. He saw the hunger in your eyes upon looking at his brother, a tasty meal for your kind. He knew this would happen that's why he never invited anyone over except for your feeding time every once in a while.

But there's no way he would let you feast on his own family, he shook his head with a serious look on his face. He knew that you would listen to him either way, so he sighed as he watched you disappeared before his eyes.

“If you still want to live, leave.” Miguel spoke with a firm tone in his voice.

“But—”

“I said no to your stupid party and that's final. Leave before I told Lyla to never let you in here ever again.”

“You would ban me from coming here just because of this?”

“Gabriel.” He warned, insisted on letting him stay and telling him the reason why was never the best move to pull no matter what the situation is. Miguel watches as he leaves, listening to his brother swearing under his breath before the door shut by itself. The sound of small waves of water followed by ripples of water made Miguel turn his body to look at your head peeking out of the pool with a frown evident on your face. Breaking his heart from how sad you look after not getting what you wanted, he hates disappointing you.

Your eyes were fixed on the door, hoping your walking food would come back. “I know baby, I know. I'm sorry, okay? But you can't eat him.” He lowers himself to touch your face, gently caressing your cheek. You keep your head fixed on the door without hissing at Miguel. Human language is a foreign one to your ears, you can't understand anything, just a few basic words. Miguel was fully aware of this so he repeated himself. The certain word will always taste bitter to his mouth when it comes to pleasing you. “No baby, you can't eat him.”

Your frown worsens from the word ‘no’. You're not sure what it means, all you understand is that every time the word escapes his mouth, he won't let you get what you desire. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

After that, he fed you even more men to satisfy your hunger. Their bodies sunk into the abyss of water where the monster he fell in love with abode.

[milkweedman]

hello! need help learning how to do a thing and it's your area of expertise so im squirrelling into your ask box (dad joke, sorry.) ANYWAY

i have a lot of jeans that i really really like. however, my most worn jeans tend to, uh. rip in the seat after some time. either near the ass, or at the crotch. this is super irritating, and i don't like tossing the jeans just because of that but i have no idea how to fix them or what to do about this.

i vaguely remember you posting on here about jeans wear and tear as well. sorry if im asking you something that you have already answered, but just wanted to know - what's a good way of mending jeans ripped in the crotch area?

better yet, how do i reinforce my jeans that are showing the warning signs of ripping at the crotch?

My jeans literally just ripped a couple days ago and ive been wearing sweatpants to work out if laziness, so you have good timing 🐿

There might be many ways to do this (and there's definitely NEATER ways to do this) but here's how I fix mine:

They just sort of wore right through. Luckily I was able to catch it before they started ripping too. The sooner you catch a hole the better--and noticing before it rips is best.

You will need a sewing needle (for jeans I like the shortest sharpest needle with a small eye but use whatever needle is comfortable), scissors, a strip of scrap fabric, and some thread. Ideally thread in the same color as your jeans, but I'm using one that will stand out so you can see the repair. Also, nobody will see this later so it doesn't really matter. Pins will also help keep things neat but aren't strictly necessary.

The strip of fabric should be big enough to cover the entire area that wears out, doubled over, on this leg. You can of course just patch the hole, but then you'll grow a new hole a centimeter to the left, so its less work to just do this now.

For preventative measures (sewing a patch on before there is a hole) the process is exactly the same. Just patch the area you know will wear out.

Step 1: turn the pants inside out. fold your patch and pin it in place. We want a doubled patch because a single layer might wear through as well. If you don't have pins, you can use a spare needle or just set it over the repair site.

Like so. If you want these to look nice, keep everything neat and straight. I just want these mended and don't care how it looks one iota, so mine will be messy.

Step 2: thread your needle with doubled thread. A single thread can and probably will wear through here.

Step 3: put your non dominant hand down the leg you're fixing. Your hand should be under the patch supporting while you sew. If you have an embroidery hoop or something leg-sized to put there to hold things taut, that's even better.

Step 4: start sewing the patch down. First we just want to secure it before we do any reinforcing. You could use any stitch here ( whipstitch would probably be good, backstitch is good as well) but I just use a simple running stitch. Go around the entire patch, removing pins if present as you go. Keep your stitches loose here, or at least not tight.

Step 5: reinforcing ! This part can be done on either side, and the front is going to look way neater than the back. If this is in matching thread I'd go ahead and work on the inside because the messy outside won't be seen. If it's contrasting thread you may want to work on the outside, so that at least you have a good pattern. I don't care either way, so I'll work on the inside as it's a little easier. Like I said, this repair really won't be seen when wearing the pants, so the aesthetics aren't very important imo.

To reinforce, I will stitch plus signs/x's over the entire patch. You can do them one at a time or sew all the horizontal lines, then sew vertically to intersect. It's up to you, I like doing them one at a time though.

Yes, they're very bad. Yes this will still extend the life of these pants several months at least. Yes it would be even more effective if I took the time to be neater.

On top on the right image is the patch I did on the other side when they started shredding 5 or 6 months ago. The fabric on the front is only just now starting to fail again, so they will need another round of mending. I will probably extend the patch down the leg a little but mostly just sew more. When you add a layer of thread over fabric, now you have to wear through all of the thread before you start wearing down the fabric again. That's largely how these patches work.

A much much neater and more aesthetic form of this basic idea is sashiko sewing. It's a great way to mend things like jeans (I just don't care about my jeans being anything other than usable so I save my effort and creativity for where I will enjoy it).

Here's the front. I highly doubt anyone will ever see the yellow but I sharpied it black (can also do blue on most shades of blue jeans) and now it stands out less.

One last thing--if, when you look at the front again, you see there are some damaged areas standing proud, sew over those until they have compacted back down and are smooth again. This is important--whatever stands the highest will wear first. So your repairs should be sitting on top, standing higher than the damaged fabric. Otherwise this is all for naught.

Some tips:

A canvas fabric is better. Go for something thick and with some weight to it if you can--immobilizing the repair site will also help some with how long the repair will last.

Similarly colored thread will render this almost invisible. Almost invisible means hard to work on... so make sure your patch is a different color so you're not mending like black thread on black fabric. Save your eyes.

Smaller stitches are better if you have the time/coordination. Large stitches can snag in the wash and also aren't as effective here.

That said, chicken scratch looking garbage will absolutely still make your pants wearable again, as you can see.

If the physical act of moving the needle is going terribly, it's because it's the wrong needle for the job. For jeans, you want a short needle as thin as possible with a small eye. I switched halfway thru this mend because I found a better needle and it was way easier after that.

That's all I got, good luck with your pants ! I usually can double or triple my jeans life this way

[demonslayedher]

Did my rewatch with a friend, some observations either from me or both of us:

--Gotouge was deep in the "bean" period at this point in the manga, drawing especially Tanjiro's face in lumpy simple shapes on a regular basis. We suspect that in this season so far, Tanjiro's face has spent most of its screen time in silly mode as opposed to normal mode.

--Before we watched, I had her guess what she thought the vibe might be for the ending theme. "I don't know, foreshadowing all their deaths or something?" GIRL, HOW DARE YOU GUESS THAT RIGHT. Also, I'm so glad the full version of "Tokoshie" is already out because it's going to be super difficult but I can't wait to give it a shot at karaoke.

--We chatted afterward about Ufotable's choices. I feel like they've upped their show-offy game in this season (thicker lines, extended scenes, varied BGM and careful sound design, slow and deliberate filler, and lighting, lighting, lighting, lighting!), which might be somewhat to compensate for the slower story pace. It's simply reality that a lot of the hype for KnY has slowed (the Mugen Ressha era levels were unsustainable, of course, that was a phenomenon), and I know many people have gotten tired of it. But frankly, those people are not Ufotable's audience now; we the captives who love spending time with these characters are the target audience, and when things pick up again, those who took a break will come back and binge these seasons. I'm sad to see some hype die away, but I have no worries about the hype train totally dying down.

--And the love and care thrown into this production shows that they have every intention of giving the final arcs the care they'll require <3

--but also AOI!!! I loved the subtle restraint of that filler. It wasn't overdone, and it's so rare to see Tanjiro and Aoi have a moment together, and to see both how Aoi has relaxed in his presence and how she remains formal. That irony and layered way of Tanjiro having no idea how he's helped her, and Aoi talking about herself in wanting to be left alone, but still finding a way to show that she cares about this person Tanjiro is talking about even though she has no idea who it is? Wonderfuuuullllll

--How softly Shinobu speaks to Kanao!!!!! The way Shinobu sits in shadow but Kanao is within reach of the sunlight!!!! (They put Kanao's hair on the same side as usual instead of matching the way the manga did this scene!)

--The glimpse in Tamayo's memories of Yoriichi encountering Muzan, the sound of his earrings tied with the sound of Tanjiro's earrings!!

--The same sort of layering in the ending theme!!

--YUSHIRO SCREAMING DESCENT

--Giyuu's face being cut out of view when he says he's not the Water Pillar

--EVERY BIT OF GIYUU AND TANJIRO INTERACTION, I'm sure Hanae Natsuki had so much fun being thoroughly obnoxious

--EVERY BIT OF GIYUU AND SABITO INTERACTION

--There is no mistaking Murata and I love that

--LITTLE GIYUU'S EEEEEEYYYYYYYYEEEEESSSS

--The height difference between Tanjiro and Giyuu in the Taisho Secrets

--Tanjiro was the one being overbearing and clingy in the episode and now in the Taisho Secrets we've got Giyuu thoroughly in "Kamado Tanjiro is my friend" mode, like "...Come eat more soba with me. Oh. Then. Come eat shake daikon with me. Are you coming? You're coming! Are you done yet? I'm staring at you from the side of the screen. I'm waiting. Come on. Hang out with me."

--I was gonna say the Taisho Secrets were obvious this time, but my friend (who has read the manga and just watched this episode with me) said, "oh, I didn't know that side was from his sister!" So... alright, good call, then, Ufotable.

--Ok but as Tanjiro is first showering Giyuu with kindness (and indeed, sitting so much in Giyuu's personal space), I was thinking about Giyuu's smile in the Taisho Secrets (shake daikon, yay~), and my friend said, "You know what this is making me think of? That panel at the end of the manga when..." --when he's smiling, I thought-- "...he thinks Tanjiro is dead." NO STOP WHY DID YOU DO THAT ME

--Love that little addition of Tanjiro cheerfully pointing out how quiet it's been, and "no! No demons here!" TANJIRO, YOU SHOULD BE VERY, VERY WORRIED ABOUT WHAT THIS MEANS

--"Now want about Tomioka-san" "What's Kocho doing?" UFOTABLE STOP THE DOOMED GIYUSHINO HURTS

--WHAT A CLIP TO END ON AND PLUNGE US INTO THAT ENDING THEME

--rude

[rivangel]

sequel to this post

➥ c/w: gn!reader, some angst, oral (m!receiving), praise, subby Levi canonverse, established relationship, handjob, finger sucking?, turned into smut somehow

➥ wc: 1.8k

The boy appeared to you and Levi later to apologize profusely like that was the reason he'd been born. You didn't have the heart to turn him away, and filed inside the small recovery room behind him, with its half-exposed brick walls. The curtains were shut, but enough light penetrated. Levi looked too tired to stop him, and it took an arduous amount of time to get through, but his answer was short, to the effect of, If you're not court-marshaled, don't do it again. A slightly upper angle and I would've bled out. Then where would we be?

You're still thinking about that as you stock the closet with some of his clothes. Mandatory bedrest for at least a week, and after that, take it slow. Levi practically shriveled up when someone said 'wheelchair', and he preferred if hospital germs didn't get into his quarters.

You'll have his squad up there every day doing routine cleaning, "trouble" which Levi didn't need to exert his mind over. He's busy being stubborn.

You turn around when you hear porcelain clink. He's leaned over the dresser next to the bed, trying to take the tea.

"Levi," you scold.

"We don't need Hange to tell me my arms are in fine working condition," he grumbles, leaning back as you come over.

He's right, though. No one would even notice any arm wound because the bandages and plaster wrapping around his lower leg are bordering-on gaudy. It's propped up on a fat pillow, also white, the same as his soft-looking boxers and collared shirt (of which many buttons hang loose). In the glowing late afternoon, he looks ethereal, not quite of-this-world. A dove which is angry and stubborn and trapped.

"Still," you say quietly.

"I'm fine... I don't need anything."

Mikasa and Sasha had picked flowers, which you set in a watered glass jar atop the dresser. White again.

You watch him sip, and go over when he's done, laid propped up against pillows. A wooden bench at the side; you sat for hours while he slept through the day (the whole incident happened this morning). You sit on it now.

"I know... But why not want?" you repeat, quietly looking down at your hands.

"Who are we to want anything?"

You sharply look. "Why are you talking like this?"

He just watches you, shrewdly, but with a weakness not indicative of him. It might be exhaustion talking...

"We could always die. Titans could get in—"

"I'd kill them."

"Not like this..."

You said the wrong thing—the wrongest thing. His lips press into a thin line, barely-concealed contempt and clean daggers for eyes. The way he looks, like he believes if he tensed up enough, then he'd turn invisible and leave this argument in the dust.

You gesture slightly. "Because I would protect you. Even if I wasn't one of your comrades, or a soldier."

His lip twists in a unique disgust, which is the most you can see, his head turned towards the wall. Over his stomach, his hand tightens into a fist. "If you weren't, you'd die. Then I'd be dead anyway."

You swallow. You want to yell, and cry.

"I don't want that, either way. You didn't deserve to... see me like that. That seems to be why I'm talking like this."

The anger has left him. Delicately, you stand and seat yourself on the edge of the bed by his waist. "I've seen you be lots of things. 'Weak' is okay too. And I'm okay with seeing you like that as many time as I must, which is once so far."

He scoffs softly through his nose.

You lean forward more, and walk your fingers through his hair. Blacker than night, soft. There's a little piece you tuck behind his ear. His eyes flutter, letting out a deep breath. You can almost see the goosebumps.

"I know we'll die, and I know we belong to something much bigger, but can't I love you anyway?"

His breathing hitches a little, and his eyes open. It's a wonder what he's thinking, if he's even thinking about it, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Do whatever you want. I'm fine, if it's possible I can be with you."

It's your heart's turn to flutter, and just as soon, lean over awkwardly, your head resting on his chest and your arms around him (at least as much as they can be). You hear his heartbeat. The slowing, smooth rhythm of his choppy breathing carrying your upper half. His arm slips around your waist, content to rest his lips in your hair. As the time passes, he's more and more comfortable to hold you to tame the fear his anger betrayed. By that time, your arm's fallen asleep; you rub his side.

As tempting as it is to go down to the mess crowded for dinner, and contend with questions, you stay, just appreciating existing next to him.

"Your back," he mutters. You've been bent over a while.

"Mm." He's officially being ignored.

His hand slips over yours on his side, stopping you. His face doesn't give anything away, maybe purposefully so, and so you smile.

Leaning up, a fond kiss to his cheek. "You're cute when you make that face. Is your leg feeling okay?"

He clicks his tongue mildly with his head turned out, just showing you his cheek and one blue-grey eye. "'m fine," he says quietly.

Curious eyes search. Maybe he's downplaying something, but not lying. With nothing you'd rather do, you kiss down his jaw now, to the tender, pale column of his neck. His chest lifts suddenly against yours.

His question sounds like an afterthought. "What're you doing?"

"'m loving you," you lift your lips to say. (A little embarrassing to say out loud.)

"Yeah." His lips are still in your hair, but are stirring.

You remember he has your hand when he starts bringing them down. All across your upper half, you feel him breathing, and it's a little deeper.

You switch sides, putting you at an awkward angle to kiss him. He starts to move over towards the wall, but you stop him with a firm hum fast enough, and sit up. No walking, Moblit had told him firmly. What you kind of wish he'd said now is no moving his legs. For now you ignore it pushing snugly against the front of his boxers, but there's a wisp of a giggle in your chest.

You shift the pillow carefully, and he follows, until there's enough room for you there beside him. The mattress is only half-decent, but it's warm from his body.

He looks annoyed that you're smirking, if only he could come off the slightest bit intimidating blushing so hard like this. Pink warmth creeps down his neck and disappears beneath his open, rumpled collar.

"Tch." He just captures the nape of your neck and pulls your lips against his—a little slowly that comes with tiredness, but that much more passionately.

While you play with his lips, giving him away to you, your palm roams between his thighs. You pause there. Right as he shivers with his lip trapped between your teeth, you pull away and leer over him. "Don't move, baby. Move and I'll stop."

His eyes narrow in a bratty display.

"I mean it." You smile. "Even a touch" You stroke through his clothes slow and firm, immediately bringing a dreaming-like quality to his eyes. He almost can't look at you, especially as he huffs and it throbs under you.

"Baby?" You lick your thumb.

"I won't move." He huffs again, harsher this time. "Ugh, I won't fucking move, but you can't just—"

Your free hand, your thumb, falls against his jaw and stops his soft lips from flapping, so now a whole new quality of lust emerges in his expression. You're freeing his cock from his shorts as he instantly takes you in, so soft and sweet and giving. The heat that immediately consumes your thumb is melting, almost too intense to handle.

"Good boy, letting me."

His eyes flutter as you find where wetness has drooled from the tip of his stiff cock, spreading it around in your palm. It's easy to hold him, how he was made for you, and even easier to touch him to attract his hips, and the beginning of whispered whines he always always tries to suppress.

He hasn't forgotten, though. At the moment you send him a warning look, he relaxes, and his eyes are closed. You didn't notice him take hold of your wrist, holding just to hold, and gripping the front of his shirt with the other hand, since you're not close enough.

"Good boy," you murmur again. A moan vibrates round your thumb, his cock straining in your fist. "That's my good boy..."

It seems all the squirming he doesn't do has to go towards suckling and nipping your thumb instead. You watch his brows furrowed in deep focus as you build up your firm strokes. It's getting just as wet. He can't last.

You smile to yourself as your pumps rise to his tip, firm but quick flicks of your wrist. His back bows against the bed, the moan in his throat breaking apart into a whine. That aside, he stays perfectly still, so you let it slide.

"Does it feel that good when I touch you? Going to come, sweetheart?"

"Mm," his voice comes firm and tightly-wound. His eyes open into slight slits, see you watching shamelessly, and shut again. "Mm!"

Just as he throbs and tenses up. You bend over gripping down low, abruptly tearing your hand away from his mouth to sink his cock inside yours; pinning his hips, rubbing his heavy balls in your grasp.

"F-Fuck, fuckfuck!" He takes sudden, almost too-tight hold of your hair, gasping, and tearing the sheet, and shuddering. He moans all through it, broken whispers of your name, almost hummed at the top of his throat at the quietest, and always eagerly throbbing in the hot suction of your mouth. You take everything in deep swallows.

When finally, his hips are threatening to squirm to shy away and his cock softening, you pull off. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as he melts into the sheets. He has half of his bright red face hiding under his arm, catching his breath.

"Fuck, I don't know how you expected me to stay still. Come here." He lowers his arm.

"For the mess." You smile sweetly.

"Come here."

"You're not doing anything." But you do, and let him give you a kiss. He looks extremely unhappy about that, but for once, it looks like he'll listen when you say.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

[ya-bug-boy]

Great! hhhhh its been awhile since ive seen more pkmn swsh raihan and piers x reader !

May i request raihan x piers x gn!reader where raihan and piers are like dating but suddenly has feelings for gn!reader and wanted to work things out with them? Like the reader was like their wingman or something in the past and now they just want the reader as their third!

Hopefully this works for you! Take your time! i have like another request but if its okay i’ll get to you once you’re done ! Hopefully it isnt too much pressure! thank you so much!

Raihan x GN Reader x Piers!

Everyone's got that same question to ask you, how did YOU date both Raihan and Piers, two of Galar's regions most sought after influencer boyfriends? Those two were always known as an exclusive set, having not sought after anyone in consecutive years!

Well first off the whole reason why the two idiots even started dating each was directly because of your influence.

Before you were put in the spotlight of dating two of Galar's well known leaders, you basically helped Piers get the courage he needed to confess to Raihan, having been his friend prior to his gym leader career.

Piers would always sigh and lament, forlornly staring out the rainy weather out from his room that he had fallen into a sort of, Beauty and the Beast situation.

Piers had his eye on Raihan for a while since both were picked to be gym leaders at around the same time from a list of candidates. The two were known to be close friends at the time, but after they became gym leaders, both of them had grown distant.

Piers took it as some kind of puppy love crush that he had on Raihan but it's clear that he never really got over it.

So you being the little investigative twerp you are, you decide to befriend Raihan to get to know him as well. Raihan agrees to be your friend cheerfully but you start to note that he asks a lot of questions about Piers.

How is he? Is he doing alright?

You ask Raihan why he cares about Piers though they don't speak anymore and Raihan reveals a secret about the selection process of being gym leaders.

Spikemuth is known to be the least popular city in all of Galar because there's no stadium to dynamax there.

There seems to be something more to this story though. You investigate and question your two friends a bit more about what happened.

On Raihan's side, when they were both selected to be gym leaders, Piers brushed him off and left him without closure.

On Piers' side, he thought Raihan looks down on him/pities him for being Spikemuth's leader after overhearing the other candidates complain about Spikemuth. He never willingly chose to be Spikemuth's leader but once he was selected he had to do something to help the locals, which led to his music career down the line. Due to his position, Piers was misled into thinking that Raihan thinks ugly of him.

You get the two idiots in the same room and just get them to talk.

Their dating starts off slow and steady, it had been a couple of years since they last saw each other outside of work, but they eventually did become an item because of your encouragement.

But eventually, they start asking you to tag along to their dates. You're weirded out by it but they're your friends so why not. You're more than happy to spend time with them, even if it's on their date.

but then they happen more often. The three of you together.

You eat together, you play together, you take care of your Pokemon together, it all starts becoming very domestic.

On an afternoon when you're sitting down, with the two coming to join you, you openly ask, "Hey are we dating," and Raihan immediately goes, "Yes."

You immediately turn your head to look at both of them. "Well it would have been nice if either of you told me!!!!" You start hurling sofa pillows at them. Raihan starts laughing while Piers immediately starts apologizing.

Since you couldn't decide who you should kiss first, they decide for you. Piers on your left, Raihan on your right, kissing your face cheeks at the same time.

[c0wgurlz]

Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 1: Sweet Caroline

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He grabs ahold of the belt loops on either side of my hips. “I just-” he shakes me, “I’m tired of people treating me like some wounded animal or-or like some bomb just waiting to go off. You’re the one person who-,” he licks his lips, “you’re my person. Please don’t do that to me.”

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UPDATE: CHAPTER 2

I'm a long-time fic writer and an even longer reader, but this is my first attempt at writing for Yellowstone. If ya'll have any notes on characterization or just anything in general, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading xx.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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I was no stranger to the Yellowstone Ranch, but bumping my way along its seemingly never-ending dirt drive, I still couldn’t help but feel out of my depth - like a little kid made to ride a bike with no training wheels. Its sprawling pastures surrounded by the towering mountains, standing at attention like century guards, intimidated me, and I had spent nearly every day of my childhood gallivanting around the property. I can only imagine how outsiders feel the first time they dare to mosey onto the ranch. Now, all this isn’t to say that I wasn’t looking forward to returning to Yellowstone, I undoubtedly was, but being there at the (somewhat) wisened age of twenty-seven felt significantly riskier than it had at the naive age of seventeen. The Yellowstone was trouble, and I had spent the last ten years of my life trying to stay out of it. Putting myself right back into its clutches went against every instinct I have.

Still, I was excited to see the people I had come to know as family. When my daddy died when I was only twelve, Mr. John treated me like one of his own, and when my momma remarried a man who was known for his fiery temper and love of the drink, he took me in as his own. My daddy and Mr. John had been best friends, so truly I think he felt as though it was his duty to care for me, but I like to believe he loved me all the same. And I loved him back. He taught me everything I could ever need to know - plus some. Helped put me through college. Even supported me when I wanted to take on the pageant circuit - although I don’t believe he minded the extra bit of shine my winning of Rodeo Queen added to his reputation. Hell, I even loved his ragtag group of kids, Jamie included if you can believe it. They were my family, and I wouldn’t have traded them for the world. Except I did, because Yellowstone was trouble, and I couldn’t let myself get caught up in that. And neither could Mr. John.

Sneaking up on Rip was somewhat of a talent I had cultivated over my long years spent on the ranch. I’m proud to say that I’m still the only son of a bitch who can do it. And that’s why I park my truck a good half mile down the road from the corrals. There’s a small hill in the dirt drive that obscures the shoulder of the road as you approach the house, one that Kayce and I used to hide away in, smoking or drinking, trying to stay out of trouble while getting into it. I park my truck on that hidden shoulder, closing my door as quietly as I can before approaching the road. As I walk, I stick as close to the fence line as possible, relying on the looming fence posts to provide me with cover. I know that if I can make it past the corrals unseen and circle around the back of the barn I’ll have Rip jumping a foot in the air before he can even catch a whiff of me. Lucky for me he’s locked in on what I can only describe as clownery, supervising some gangly kid as he works to stay on a bronco. Taking my golden opportunity, I creep through the barn, hushing whinnying mares as I go, before sidling right up to Rip’s left side.

“Now that kid has got balls of steel,” I comment, hands splayed across my hips, head nodding in appreciation.

I wish I had the words to appropriately describe Rip’s reaction. With a little hop and shout, Rip whirls on me, hand splayed across his chest, breath thundering in shock. “Jesus, what in the fuck do you think-” And that’s when he realizes who exactly he’s about to chew out. His eyes go wide and a grin starts to stretch across his weathered face. “Well as I live and breathe, if it isn’t sweet Caroline herself, gracing us with her beauty.” He takes a step towards me. “Come ere ya little menace!”

Before I know it I’m wrapped up in the warmest, most comforting bear hug on earth. If Mr. John had been like a father to me, then Rip had been like a big brother. My protector and confidant - and the target of my and Kayce’s many pranks.

“Where have ya been?” He jostles me around. “Haven’t heard from you in over a year, and haven’t seen you in well over that. Too busy for us old cowpokes?”

I hold onto his hands, squeezing them. “Well I haven’t been ignoring ya’ll on purpose, I’ve just been a bit busy. I -” And that’s when Mr. John comes ambling down the lodge steps, casual and collected as ever.

“She’s been in Oklahoma, working PR for the rodeo circuit. And based on what I hear, she’s pretty damn good at it.” Before I know it I’m embraced in a fierce hug, and if I didn’t know better I’d say I heard Mr. John sniffle. “It’s good to see you, honey. Welcome home.”

Rip looks between myself and Mr. John, confused. “You mean Caroline’s back working the ranch? We ain’t got any beds left in the bunkhouse.” At this, he turns to me, “Not that I’d expect you to sleep there but I know how stubborn you can be about doing what’s right.”

Mr. John cuts him off. “No.” He responds gruffly. “She’s not here as a ranch hand, she’s here as my PR specialist.” Casting Rip a pointed look, he murmurs, “Ya know with all the problems we’ve encountered lately I thought we should call in an expert to help with damage control, and who better than family.”

Rip nods gravely, a closed expression covering his face that I don’t particularly like the looks of. “Well if that’s what she’s here for then I’ll leave you two to talk privately. I’ve got wranglers to wrangle and supper to check on.” He turns to walk away, but pauses, angling his body towards me. “If you need me, Caroline, for anything, don’t hesitate to shout.”

He looks so serious, so grim, I feel the small, unsure age of eleven all over again. “Ok.” I nod, my voice coming out thin and reedy. “I will.”

“I mean it.” He’s firm. “Anything.”

“I know Rip.”

With that, he gives a final tip of his head to Mr. John and I, stalking off to holler at the gangly kid - Jimmy.

“What was that all about?” I turn to Mr. John, big-eyed and pale.

Looking resigned he says, “You know Rip, he’s just protective of you is all, and he knows I’m about to ask a lot of you, get you involved in stuff we normally would try to keep you out of.” He shakes his head, knocks one of his boots against the other. “But you’re my last resort honey, you have to know that. I wouldn’t drag you into trouble if I thought I could help it. Honest.” His voice is so sincere, soft in a way it rarely is. I would have believed him anyways, but now there’s no doubt in my mind. I have to do right by Yellowstone, by the Dutton family, by my family. I have to stay, wade through the trouble, and bring everyone out on the other side.

“Tell me everything I need to know.” It comes out harder than I expected, harder than I’ve ever heard my own voice. It makes Mr. John look up. His features turn steely, matching mine. We’re in this together now.

“Walk with me, let me show you where you’ll be lodging. I’ll fill you in.”

Ten years of keeping clear of trouble down the drain, but I owed Mr. John, owed Yellowstone, a debt, and I wasn’t about to not repay it.

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

To say that what Mr. John had shared with me was shocking would be an understatement. Land and cattle disputes I had expected, helping Jamie and Beth campaign - sure, I figured (well maybe not Beth), but murder? Can’t say that was anywhere on my radar, or anywhere in my wheelhouse. If I’m being honest with God and myself, if it weren’t for my love for Mr. John and the Dutton family, I would’ve turned the job down. Any PR specialist with a brain would because what the Duttons needed was a criminal defense lawyer, not some cowgirl who’s good at turning nasty scandals into marketable flattery. But I do love the Duttons, and I love Yellowstone, so from the looks of it, if this ship goes down, I’m going with it.

Mr. John must think it wise to give me time to mull over the absolute bomb he’s just dropped on me, because after he breaks the news and confirms that I’m still willing to stick around, he goes silent, his face settling into a contemplative furrow, the same as mine. It isn’t until the foreman’s house comes into view that I break the silence, slightly bewildered.

“We making a pit stop or something?” I gesture to the house in the distance, halting my gait.

Mr. John breezes past me, only turning his head back to answer my seemingly stupid question. “No darling, I’m showing you to your lodging, like I said I would.” Darling is reserved for when I’m being a moron, honey as a term of endearment, and cowgirl for when I’m about to get what’s coming to me. I’ve not even been back an hour and I’ve managed to collect two of the three, and I’m not too keen on collecting the third.

I wait until he looks away before rolling my eyes. That would’ve earned me a ‘cowgirl’ for sure. “Well, who died and made me foreman because I sure as hell don’t have the beard or buckle to pull it off.” I hustle to catch back up with him, bumping his shoulder against my own, knowing I’m toeing the line between a chuckle and a swat. Thankfully I’m gifted with the chuckle.

“You know I keep waiting for your beard to come in, but I remain disappointed.” He shoots me a wink. “But no, I don’t want you as my foreman as much as you don’t want to be my foreman. No worries there.” He side-eyes me. “Kayce’s taken over from Rip, so this is his place now. I just thought you’d want to be out here with your partner in crime rather than cooped up in the lodge with an old fart like me.” I know he’s aiming for casual as he explains my living situation to me, but if my many years spent living at Yellowstone had taught me anything, it was how to read John Dutton. And right now, I can tell he’s up to no good - more so than usual.

“Right, because living in that big snazzy house would be so terrible. I think you’re just trying to keep me and Beth apart. Too scared to live under the same roof with us both. Can’t say I blame you.” And while I really wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to live with me and Beth - if she’s a terror alone, with me she’s a terror and a half - I have a sneaking suspicion Beth and I’s potential reign of terror isn’t the true cause of his decision. But I sure as hell can’t let him know I’m onto him.

He chuckles again, in an almost relieved sort of way. “You’ve got me there. I’d rather keep my sanity, thank you kindly. So no, I quite frankly don’t want to live with you and Beth at the same time. And truly, I just thought you’d be more comfortable out here.” He sighs. “You’ll be wrapped up in our mess during all your waking hours, I don’t want to take away the little bit of peace you’ll get during your sleeping ones too.”

I frown. “Mr. John, I-” I begin to protest.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You’re in the foreman’s and that’s final.” Mr. John’s swinging the door open now, and the house is everything I thought it would be growing up.

High ceilings reveal exposed wood, and the humble home is lined with windows, letting in ample natural light. In a way I feel like I haven’t left the outdoors at all, the house is simply an extension of the forest that looms behind it. As kids, one of the few places Kayce and I weren’t allowed to wreak havoc was the foreman’s house. Mr. John always berated us whenever we’d beg to go inside, saying, “A hard-working man deserves some privacy, some peace and quiet. You better leave him and his home well enough alone or I’ll skin both of your hides.” For once we listened, neither of us too keen on getting our butts busted.

“Plus, I imagine Kayce will be mighty happy to learn he’s got his best friend back. It always was ya’ll’s dream to set up camp in here. Now you get to live it.” His statement breaks me out of my reverie.

“I’m sorry, you ‘imagine’ Kayce will be happy? He doesn’t know I’m here?” And so the other shoe drops. Mr. John always did hold out hope that Kayce and I would end up together. Said we’d be a power couple. Combine my business sense and charming small talk with Kayce’s grit and knowledge of the ranch and we’d be unstoppable. Let’s just say he was never too shy about his meddling. And while I did have a small crush on Kayce growing up, and I’d like to think he had one on me too, we were always both too awkward to entertain anything other than a close friendship. Naturally, we experimented the way kids do, having had a drunk kiss or two and having done our fair share of skinny dipping, but by the time we were in our late teens all romantic feelings had fizzled. That doesn’t mean we weren’t closer than we’d ever been though, thicker than thieves and troublemakers to boot. We practically lived in each others’ pockets. You wouldn’t find one of us without the other. I was crazy about Kayce and he adored me, but it was never anything other than platonic.

“Mr. John, I can’t live here if Kayce doesn’t know about it. You said so yourself, the foreman’s house is his getaway, a place for peace and quiet. I’m not taking that from him.” Hands planted firmly on my hips and lips pursed, I shake my head adamantly. “I’ll find myself a place in town or-”

“Caroline, no, you’re staying-”

“Or I’ll see if my cousin Amy has a spare room, we were always close and-”

“Caroline.” His voice is firm, if not a little irritated. “I said no. Kayce needs you here, you hear me? You’re staying here and that’s final.” This last part is spoken a bit softer, but firmly all the same.

Now Mr. John might not be my real daddy, but I’ve spent my whole life obeying him all the same, and this time is no different, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to plead my case. “Mr. John, I’ve missed Kayce too and I know he’s going through a lot right now, but he doesn’t need me.” I sigh. “And I couldn’t possibly put out his family. I mean, this place is small enough as it is. And Tate’s what, nearing eight now? He needs room to play and run around, I’ll only be taking up already limited space.” Giving a half-hearted shrug, I turn to head back toward the door, but Mr. John’s heavy sigh has me doubling back.

“Caroline honey, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I don’t feel like it’s my place, but when I say Kayce needs you I mean it. He and Monica split a few weeks ago, and with everything else going on he’s in real bad-”

Back turned to the door, I hear Kayce before I see him. “Dad, for the last time I’m not interested in meeting who you’ve got running for AG, so if you could kindly show her out I’d greatly-”

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

I know I said Kayce and I had never been anything other than platonic, but you’d have to be blind not to see what a looker the boy is. God damn is he beautiful. I mean he always has been, but the years have been more than kind to him. Seeing him now damn near takes my breath away. The last time I laid eyes on Kayce he had just returned from the navy, eyes weary and hair cropped close. He had looked exhausted, almost dead in the eyes. Now though, he looks like a field set ablaze by the setting sun, all bright and aglow with something unnameable. Almost dangerous in his beauty. He must get over seeing me for the first time in five years before I get over seeing him because before it feels like I can even blink he’s across the room and I’m a foot off the ground, wrapped tight in his arms. I never knew I was missing part of myself until this very moment, with Kayce’s face pressed into the crook of my neck and my hand fisted in his hair. I swear I feel more settled in myself than I have in years, like I’m sinking into my bed after a long day, or eating a warm meal after I’ve spent all day working out in the cold.

“Caroline.” It’s a soft whisper in my ear. It almost sounds reverent, like a prayer.

“Kayce,” I murmur back, something private only he can hear.

I suppose he remembers we aren’t alone because before I know it my feet are planted firmly on the ground once more and I’m no longer wrapped in his embrace. Instead, he lets one gentle hand linger on the small of my back, almost hesitant and unnatural in its hovering. Grinning, he turns to Mr. John. “Dad what is-” his gaze shifts to find mine. “Caroline, what are you doing here?”

My lips part preparing to answer, but no sound comes out, just a whisper of an inhale followed by a beaming smile. I think it’s important to say once again that my feelings for Kayce are strictly platonic, but my God if a woman can’t get lost in his whiskey-brown eyes.

I’m broken out of my trance by an awkward cough. Both Kayce and I turn to face Mr. John, who looks a bit too pleased for my liking. Smiling wryly he drawls, “Well I think I’ll leave you two to catch up. Caroline, I’ll have one of the boys bring your truck up. No sense in you hauling yourself all around sundry.” Making his way outside, he pauses on the porch. “I expect to see both of ya’ll at supper. Don’t be late.” He saunters down the porch and down the path, not looking back when he hollers, “And Kayce, wash up! You smell like shit.”

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

“So, you’re here to clean up the fucking mess I made then.” Kayce looks the most dejected I’ve seen him in years. Like a puppy dog that’s been kicked and put out in the cold. “Dad dragged you back to this godforsaken place because of me.” His fists shake where they’re clenched atop his knees. He tosses his hat onto the coffee table and rakes his hands through his sweat-dampened hair. “You know, I was so relieved when you got out of here. I was so scared this place would ruin everything good about you, set you up in flames like it does everything else.” His calloused hand clasps mine. “Why would you come back here? After everything that happened, after-” He takes a moment to collect himself, teeth gritted together, shoulders tensed. “After what Caleb- after what he did-”

“Kayce don’t.” I know what he’s trying to get at, and I won’t have it talked about. Not on my first day back. When I said I loved Yellowstone, that I was happy to be back, I meant it. But there are memories that this place carries that I’d rather forget, and I’m not about to let my reunion with my best friend turn sinister over one of those memories - over the mention of some asshole cowboy that belongs to the past. I want that memory to die with him. Placing a comforting hand on his back, I try to console him. “I’m a big girl. Believe it or not, I’ve grown into my britches and I know what I can handle. Plus,” I give his back a hard pat, “you really think I would let this place ruin me? I’d like to see it try.”

“Caroline..” He shakes his head, eyes glassy. “You-”

I cut him off with a quick rap of my knuckles against the coffee table, rising off the couch with an air of finality. “As for why I came back, well that’s simple. I love you Kace.” I lick my chapped lips, find a spot on the wall to focus on. “And I’m- I’m never going to abandon you when you need me.” I extend my pinky in the form of a promise, a relic left over from our childhood. “Come hell or high water remember?”

He straightens up, gaze ungluing itself from the floor only to meet mine. Kayce was always taller than me, but I don’t remember having to crane my neck up to meet his eyes the way I do now. His pinky wrapping around mine is a distant sensation in the back of my mind. “Come hell or high water.” He steps back, scratching his temple awkwardly. From a man to a boy with one simple gesture. “Uh, there’s only one bathroom so we’ll have to take turns. I don’t know if you need to shower, but you can go first, everything you need is in there, but I mean- you probably brought your own stuff so never mind.” He mutters below his breath, “God Kace,” and picks invisible lint off his shirt.

I laugh, bright and airy. Growing up Kayce was known for his ruthless pranks, and when I wasn’t his accomplice I was his primary victim. So to miss such a golden and rare opportunity to make fun of him would be a crime, his emotional turmoil aside. “No need to take turns bud, I don’t need to shower. Just got to freshen up a bit, throw on some makeup, brush my hair.” I start a slow saunter down the hall, sporting a feline grin. Kayce follows close behind- my shadow. Turning to walk backward, I poke him sharp in the chest. “How about you, Manure Man, hop in the shower while I do my makeup. We can keep each other company, catch up on each other's lives.” My back hits what I assume to be the bathroom door. I sigh. “After all, we don’t want to keep your daddy waiting. I for one don’t want a smack upside the head and I reckon you don’t either.” Angling my body so it faces the door, I reach for the nob and look at Kayce imploringly, my eyebrows raised, daring him to chicken out.

He suppresses a grin, tongue poking at his cheek. “Now you know that’s not exactly proper and I know that you’re trying to embarrass me, so you can go ahead and drop the act Miss Caroline.” Calling me on my shit, he leans into the door frame, his arms boxing me in on both sides.

Of course he knows I’m trying to embarrass him, anybody with eyes could see that. What he hasn’t caught onto is that I’m appealing to his competitive nature. If I keep poking at him long enough, there’s no way he won’t cave. If I know Kayce, he’ll take being excruciatingly embarrassed over losing against me any day. “Not proper? Sweetheart, I’ve seen you in your birthday suit more times than I care to think about, I don’t think standing in the same room as you while you shower will be the thing that sends me to hell.” I duck under his arm, grab my makeup bag from where I’d left it in the living room, and duck back under, swinging the bathroom door open as I go. Throwing my hair into a ponytail, I lock eyes with him in the mirror. His skin is flushed pink all the way down to his chest and he gnaws at his lip. Like I said, from a man to a boy with one small gesture. “Unless you’re too much of a chicken.” I shrug. “Then I guess we can take turns.” I aim for nonchalant, fingers crossed that he’s not catching on to my instigating.

Kayce’s eyes immediately narrow. Good, he’s taken the bait. “I know you’re not calling me a chicken.” His arms drop and he closes the door behind him.

Snickering, I breathe, “I’d only call you a chicken if you were acting like one, so tell me Kayce - are you being a chicken?”

He turns the shower on in lieu of an answer, eyes never leaving mine in the mirror. “I wouldn’t even know what a chicken acts like Caroline, having never been one, so no I don’t reckon I am.” At this, he flings his shirt off, and I hear his belt buckle clink shortly after, and then a thud as his pants hit the floor. The only thing that remains are his underwear and I hold his gaze steady, daring him to lose our little game. I can’t hear his underwear hit the floor, but I see the hunch his shoulders form as he bends to take them off. When he stands back up straight, he must see the devious gleam in my eye because he drawls out a suspicious, “What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together. I fiddle with the hem of my blouse. It’s a frilly white thing with thin straps and a gathered waist. One of my favorites truly. Too pretty to risk getting makeup on. I pull the shirt gingerly over my head, not worried about appearing sexy, knowing my plain bra isn’t much to look at. I begin to sort out my makeup, lining products up along the counter. “I was just thinking about how I don’t want to get makeup on my blouse. That’s all.”

The rustle of the shower curtain opening and closing is Kayce’s only reply. Check and mate Dutton.

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

Despite my reasoning for us sharing, Kayce and I don’t catch up with each other in the bathroom, in fact, he doesn’t speak a word to me until I’ve completed my makeup and he’s finished his shower.

Brushing my hair slowly and methodically, lost in my own thoughts, I almost miss the sound of the shower turning off and the rasp of the curtain as Kayce steps out. He’s wrapped in a comically large towel, but his hair still drips steadily onto the bathmat, saturated with water. The embarrassment has leached from his face and his downtrodden expression from earlier has returned. “So dad told you about me and Monica?” He perches on the closed toilet, sagging into himself, sniffs. “Old bastard.”

“What makes you think that?” Laying my hairbrush down, I turn to prop my hip against the counter and cross my arms, face as neutral as I can make it.

Kayce looks at me from under long, damp lashes, his jaw set. “Caroline, we’ve pushed a boundary or two in our decades of friendship, but I know that if you thought for one second that you’d be stepping on any toes or be disrespecting my marriage in any way, you wouldn’t have started whatever all of this,” he gestures around the bathroom, “little game was. So what did he tell you?” His hands are shaking again, but rather than clenched shut, this time they lay open, palms up, almost pleading.

“Kayce.” I kneel down, encasing one of his weathered hands with both of mine. “All he told me was that you and Monica had split not too long ago, nothing more. And he didn’t even really want to tell me that, I kind of forced his hand. I promise you.” I stand back up and ruffle his still-damp hair, trying to bring some levity back to the situation. “Although I really don’t understand all the secrecy bud, you had to hear all about my messy divorce- and over facetime of all ways. I’m not- I would never judge you Kace.”

Rising to his full height, Kayce fidgets with one of my belt loops. “I know you’d never judge me, Caroline, it’s not your judgment I’m worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about,” I murmur.

He grabs ahold of the belt loops on either side of my hips. “I just-” he shakes me, “I’m tired of people treating me like some wounded animal or-or like some bomb just waiting to go off. You’re the one person who-,” he licks his lips, “you’re my person. Please don’t do that to me.”

“Oh Kayce, you really think-,” I laugh, “I just gave you shit in the most ridiculous way, knowing well and good you’ve been put through the wringer, and you think I would treat you like some wounded thing.” I bend down to retrieve my shirt, toss it onto the counter behind me. “I realize I have a bad habit of babying you, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon, but if you think for one second that I won’t give you hell any and every time you need it, well then you’re mistaken sweetheart.” Propping his hands on his hips, Kayce looks down, kicks his bare foot against my booted one.

“Now, nobody said anything about me wanting you to stop babying me.” He grins shyly at me. “Every good cowboy needs a pretty lady to soften him up a bit, ya know.”

I feel my breath hitch as his fingers wrap loosely around mine, I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the damp towel that seems to slide lower down his hips by the second. Have I mentioned how beautiful this man is? Have time and space away from him turned my brain into scrambled eggs? Why in the hell do I feel a flush creeping down my neck? Dear God, and I have to live with this man.

I smack his chest, like any sane woman who suddenly finds herself attracted to her best friend would do, and try to hide my nerves behind a too-loud laugh. “Well as long as you don’t expect this pretty lady to harden you up too, I think I can manage that.” Slipping my hand out of his hold, I grab my blouse and make to leave, but not before I catch sight of the scarlet blush that paints his face and ears. One foot in the hallway, I call back, “Now hurry up and get dressed cowboy, wouldn’t want to keep daddy waiting.” Closing the door all I hear is a muttered, “Jesus,” in response.

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

I wait out on the porch while Kayce gets ready, slouched down on one of the steps, elbows resting on my knees. The absolute quiet that surrounds me, save for the chirp of a bird or the rustle of leaves as the breeze blows, feels like a balm on my soul. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel this way. Content, at peace, like the whole world could be falling down around me but I’d still be alright, because this place, this land, will cradle me, protect me, like a momma does for her baby. I spent so long, years of my young life, running from one thing or another. Running into the arms of the wrong people, the wrong places. Yellowstone wasn’t the only place I found trouble, and while I was able to make a name for myself, to come out on top, the years I spent fighting for myself, fighting myself, have taken a toll on me. Never really thought the ranch would be my respite, but fighting for the Duttons feels like a goddamn breath of fresh air compared to what I’ve had to claw my way through in the last decade. This is my home, trouble or not.

The door creaks open, then shut, and I crane my head back to greet Kayce. “Took ya long enough, beauty queen.”

Unphased Kayce shoves his hands into his pockets. “Your face looks goofy upside down. And I can see into your nose.” He swaggers past me, down the steps, and onto the path. “Might want to invest in a nose trimmer.. beauty queen.” Fantastic. We’re back in familiar territory. No more warm damp skin, or slouchy towels, and thank god no more tugging at my belt loops or crowding me against the counter.. abs on display, broad shoulders at eye level… Yeah no, childish insults are great! Much more comfortable, way less confusing. I’m more than happy to engage in some lighthearted bullying with my completely platonic, non-romantic, best friend.

I must take too long to respond because Kayce doubles back, coming to stand at the base of the stairs below my feet. Looking at me funny, eyebrows scrunched and lips upturned, he asks, “You good? Wasn’t even that good of a burn to be honest. You’ve taken worse.” Actual concern begins to creep into his features, so before he can get himself worked up into a spiral of guilt I hop up from the stairs, dust off my backside, and punch him square in the gut.

“Oh don’t you worry ‘bout me, I’m fine. I was actually just thinking that I probably should buy a trimmer, keep things ship shape. And you know,” I glance back at him deviously, “now that we’re living together, there’s bound to be quite a few spa nights in your future. I could use it on you as well, really get my money’s worth.” As he falls in step with me, I expect him to protest immediately. When we were kids, I asked to pretty him up practically every day, told him I did boy activities with him so it was only fair he did girly things with me. In all our years of friendship he only caved once, the night I got my first period, told me I shouldn’t have to become a woman alone. He let me put a full face of makeup on him, paint his nails, and even braid his hair. No complaints, no making fun, just supported me in the only way he knew how.

So he surprises me when he inquires, “What exactly would a spa night include? Like what are we talking here? Fancy robes, overpriced lotion, cucumbers on our eyes?” His face is entirely serious, sincere in its curiosity. Man, it's easy to forget how much growing up changes a person.. how much marriage changes a person.

I stutter. “I- I mean, it can really include whatever you want it to? I normally take a bubble bath, shave my whole body- not that you’d want to do that, and then I go ham with some lotion, put on a face mask and hair mask, maybe whiten my teeth or trim my nails. Just depends.” I shrug. Kayce and I have talked about everything under the sun, but I never thought in a million years we’d be discussing my self-care routine.

He looks at me, eyebrows furrowed, contemplating. He kicks at the dirt a bit, tips his head to either side and then with an unexpected air of finality says, “Okay. I think I’d like to try all of that. I’ve never done masks or whitened my teeth before.” He stops, looking suddenly reluctant. “Wait, none of this hurts right? Like it’s relaxing?”

I place my hand on his back, half to prompt him to keep walking, half to comfort him. An easy laugh escapes me. “No, none of it hurts. And it is very relaxing, especially when you have a good bottle of wine on hand.” I wink, trying still to reassure him.

Worries assuaged, he winks back. “Well if there’s good wine involved, I’m in. Do you have the stuff with you already? Could we do it tonight?”

This time I stop in my tracks. If I was shocked before, now I’m flabbergasted. “You really want to do all that tonight?” He starts to look self-conscious so I clarify myself. “I mean, I’m more than happy to host a spa night, don’t get me wrong, but I just figured you’d need to warm up to the idea.”

Kayce walks a half step in front of me, avoids making eye contact. “In all honesty, tomorrow’s going to be a rough day. I don’t know if dad told you, but we’ve got to negotiate with the rez, the governor, and the sheriff tomorrow. Try to find some way to sweep everything under the rug, not let my fuck-ups tarnish the ranch’s reputation.” He removes his hat, runs his hand haphazardly through his hair. I know he asked me not to treat him like some wounded thing, and I won’t, but boy does he look it. “So, yeah, I just need something to take my mind off of the impending shitstorm I’m about to deal with. And I know you’re dying to gussy me up.” He flashes me a smile. “And if you’re happy, I’m happy, so a spa night it is.”

I sigh, feeling out of my depth. In all our years of friendship, I so rarely had to be the strong one. That was always Kayce. And while I’ve certainly toughened up in the time we’ve spent apart, I still feel so unprepared to tackle all of this. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, misstep in an unfixable way. More than anything, I’m scared I’ll let Kayce down. “Your uh- Mr. John did tell me all that actually, but I hadn’t thought about how emotionally draining it’ll be. A spa night sounds good Kace. And we can even put on a horror movie, even it out.” I shrug, still feeling out of my depth.

Kayce doesn’t reply, but he does show me the barest hint of a smile, just the slight upturn of the corners of his lips. His smile says, “we’ll make it through this, we have to.”

[anisecandy]

Have a snippet of Al and Vox being fluffy, domestic and vain.

I miscalculated while counting how should I do the perspective shifts to have an equal number of chapters with both Alastor's and Vox's perspective, so with a heavy heart I'm writing the chapter 3 of "5 times Alastor and Vox failed at sex..." in narration with focus on Vox. I'll have to redo the beginning of it, that's focusing on Al, but I thought I might show it to you guys. Because I like it. Even though you wouldn't know it, from how long I've kept forgetting about posting it.

"How about this one?" Vox said, taking out from his walk in closet a hanger with a white shirt. It was adorned with thin red lines and dark blue squares of various sizes placed in a well balanced rhythm. Alastor gave it a judgmental look, before returning to digging through the left side of the corridor.

"The colors are much too loud for a theater."

"Bah! What do you know! Theater is all about artistic expression!" Vox scoffed, despite still putting it away.

Reasonable decision, since Alastor wouldn't be caught dead matching to a geometric print. He took a step forward, spreading the fabric like curtains and reaching for the garments further to the back. While he found having an almost half of a room dedicated to clothing excessive, he couldn't deny enjoying digging through it. He felt a bit like a child in a candy shop, if half of the candy was cough drops. Vox may have known his cuts well, but there were few people who missed the mark in terms of patterns as badly as he did.

"Are your friends also keeping their clothes here?" Alastor asked curiously, upon finding a small section of dresses tucked by a wall.

"What-? Nah, Velv made those for me," Vox replied, setting aside a pair of vests he was comparing to present a 50's style light-blue dress. "You don't get to live together with those two without expanding your horizons a bit. Why? Something caught your eye, Liebling?

Alastor shrugged. While this was something worth committing to the memory for a later date, at the moment it wasn't what they were looking for. Plus, as nice as the dresses were, the idea of Vox straying to far from his own silhouette caused a possessive needling to rise in his chest. Well, maybe if it was in his exact same color palette. But neither dress was red.

"Suit yourself. So, what colors do you have in mind then?" Vox asked, rummaging through his drawer with ties.

"Just stick to three at most. And don't overdo it with the highlights." Alastor gave a classic cutsuit an approving look, before gesturing to its colors. "Avoid excessive brightness and you should be good. This, for example, is a lovely shade of navy blue."

Vox's smile stretched wide, and he dived into a drawer, before taking out a bow tie, just barely darker than the suit.

"If you like it so much, why won't you try it out yourself?" He said, walking behind Alastor and nudging him toward a mirror. "I'm already always wearing a red one either way. We might as well bring this home."

He placed the tie by Alastor's neck, currently lacking his own, after trying on a few garments he found himself interested in. It matched well with the pink of his dress shirt, but stood out harshly against his hair. Vox didn't seem to notice. As he looked in the mirror, whole lower half of his screen was nothing but sharp teeth, that almost pushed his crinkled eyes, full of devottion, out of frame.

"God, you're so pretty," he breathed, nuzzling a corner of his head against Alastor. "Lemme kiss you?"

A small shiver passed down Alastor's spine. Vox pressed the front of his screen into his cheek, playing an obnoxious, wet sound effect that made him laugh. A weak electric shocks that followed it and him closed his eyes, savoring the hot sensation of it. When Vox backed away, he placed a hand on his casing, allowing himself to caress it for a tender moment.

"You're quite a sheik yourself, mon cher," he said softly.

Then, he pushed him away, tugging the bow tie off.

"But this simply wouldn't do. It clashes with my outfit."

"Oh please," Vox huffed. "You haven't worn a single coherent thing since the day I knew you. Why start now?"

"Excuse me?" Alastor said with offense. "Darling, I dress exclusively in monochrome. What about that doesn't cohere?"

"Al, your coat is made out of like five different fabrics," he deadpanned.

"It's avant-garde! As that lady friend of yours would say, a statement piece."

"A hot mess, is what it is."

"I thought you favored innovation above all else."

"Well, a certain old prick got through my head that not all innovation is a change for the better."

Alastor scoffed, rolling his eyes, visibly torn between wanting to continue their bickering and application for the rare instance of Vox admitting to respect his way of thinking. Even if it was weaponized at the moment.

[suddenly-stickmin]

Would you be willing to write a lil something for Family Jewels AU? Be it angst or depressing fluff, do surprise me my guy because I am hyperfixating on my own AU HARD. HELP ME PLEASE.

This is me at your doorstep if you care (lol)

Brutus paced through the halls of the airship, biting the tip of his thumb till the taste of blood pricked his tongue. Anytime he entered a room and his steps sounded a little too loud, he’d turn around and go back to the last one he came from. He learned he was quietest whenever he passed through the Records Library and the Lounge.

He’s probably passed through those rooms tens of times by now. He was able to recall every little detail about them, even in the dark. From the Record Library’s hundreds of books of various titles and colors carefully aligned on the wooden bookshelves, to the Lounge’s lifeless gray walls and countertops where a broken coffee machine sat.

Brutus passed through the lounge’s door on the far left and entered the library again. His steps quickened—

His hip hit the side of the round table that sat in the middle of the room.

He slapped his hands over his mouth before a yelp escaped.

He sharply inhaled and kept walking.

He stopped when he approached the door that lead to the engine room. He slowly breathed in and turned around to walk back to the lounge.

He kept going back and forth as if he’d finally see something he needed, or as if this would somehow help him with his work.

‘Work.’

Work assigned by Henry, work assigned by his director, work he hadn’t even started on. The thought of starting either made him sick.

He held onto the end of his dark brown hair and mumbled to himself. He needed to get his work done. He needed to.

If he didn’t get his work done, he’d let his director down.

If he didn’t get his work done, the Toppats would get suspicious.

If he didn’t get his work done, Henry will notice.

How would Henry notice, though? He wasn’t on the airship.

Not yet.

This should’ve made it easier for Brutus to do what the Toppat chief told him to. He should’ve had it done by now. The job was easy. It was so easy.

Go to the cockpit, adjust the ship’s coordinates, report the coordinates to the director, then go back to his room where he could lock himself inside of forever.

Yet here he was. Pacing through the library for the hundredth time.

His heart raced. And for what?

Henry?

He wasn’t here yet.

He wasn’t here yet.

It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that, though. It didn’t stop his heart from drumming, or the feeling of bile rise in his throat.

Brutus’ face grew hot and his steps slowed. He approached the round, wooden table and held onto its edge. He used his other hand to pull out one of the red, cushioned chairs and sat down. He took some deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself.

‘It’s your turn to set the control panel tonight,’ Sven had told Brutus before disappearing for the night, ‘the chief will be back from the heist before 3AM. Try not to stay up too late.’

The last time Brutus saw a clock, it was 1AM. He didn’t want to know how much time had passed since then.

He felt stupid.

He was stupid.

Afraid of someone not even in the same room as him—not even in the same airship—but hundreds of miles away in some distant building.

He took his sky blue top hat off and rested his head atop of it. His fingers ran up and down the yellow and orange lines on the bottom of the hat, his tempo quickening as he thought to himself.

‘Just walk out, go through the engine room, and fix the coordinates.’ He thought to himself. His body didn’t budge.

He breathed in and gripped onto his hat.

“Walk out and fix the coordinates.” He muttered this time, as if that’d make a difference.

His hands got sweaty.

“You’ll walk out and fix the coordinates.”

He tried to add a reassuring thought afterwards, ‘…And Henry won’t be there.’

‘How do you know?’ Another thought followed.

Brutus gritted his teeth.

Henry went on a heist.

‘You only heard that from Sven.’

Brutus had no reason to doubt Sven.

‘Sven could’ve lied.’

Why would he?

‘He could’ve lied without knowing it.’

Brutus peered through the cracks of his fingers, ‘How does that make any sense?’

‘Sven was only told about that heist by Henry. When has Henry ever been honest?’

Brutus brought his head up and stared at the door that lead to the engine room.

‘Henry could’ve made that heist up. He probably told everyone else on this ship that he’s leaving so if you ever asked anyone where he was, all of their stories would line up. Think about it, why did Henry’s orders come through Sven?’

‘Or what if this is another mind game?’ Another voice crept into Brutus’ head, ‘He’s trying to make you look crazy, Brutus. And it’s working. He’s probably been watching us on those cameras—‘

The mention of cameras made Brutus jerk his head up. His eyes darted over to the far back corner of the library. A small, red, light blinked back at him.

‘—He’s been watching us this whole time, pacing around, looking afraid, getting nothing done. He’s going to show everyone that footage.’

Brutus swallowed.

‘Everyone in the airship will know you’re a double agent.’

He put his hat back on.

‘Then they’ll throw you overboard. Henry’ll make sure to shoot you on your way down.’

He stood up.

‘But if you survive that? The director’ll take care of you.’

Before Brutus could take a step, the airship suddenly let out a loud, low groan, followed by a rumble that shook the floor.

“I need to fix those coordinates.” Brutus said.

As soon as he made his way to the door, he swore he heard a distant ‘CLANG’ echo from the back of the airship. He couldn’t tell if something had hit them, or if someone was coming in.

Brutus frantically mashed the number combination into the door’s lock. Three loud beeps pierced through the air as the lock’s light flashed green. Brutus covered his ears and hurried through the door as soon as it cracked open.

‘No one heard that. You’re fine.’ Brutus told himself as he walked through the engine room. Each step against the concrete floor echoed throughout the large, hollow room. The usual, vibrant red color of the walls had been muted due to the night sky pouring through the large windows.

His hands gripped onto the cold, metal railing on the side of the floor and looked straight ahead where the other door stood.

He pressed his lips together when he saw there was no bridge over the giant gap between this floor and the next—

The records door suddenly shut and made Brutus jump.

‘It’s automatic, moron. Take the ladder down.’

Brutus approached the ledge and put his foot down on the first bar of the ladder. He turned around and took one last look engine room’s floors—

Then his eyes went to the windows.

They widened when he saw dawn had started cracking through the darkness.

What time was it?

What time was it?

He panicked.

His grip on the latter tightened.

He needed to go down.

‘Leave this room.’

He had to fix the coordinates.

‘He’s probably already noticed you hadn’t done it.’

He’ll be in trouble if he doesn’t.

‘Hide.’

Without a second thought, Brutus clawed his way back up to the floor and ran towards the library’s door.

His eyes darted to the door’s lock. He shot a hand out—but before Brutus had a chance to put the code in, the door opened.

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 8

Part 8: Observant

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 7.6k (oops) Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. a bit suggestive wink wink. A/N: hi hi. apologies for the late posting (again). exam season is in full swing and im drowning a bit. butttt, I managed to get this little (its the longest chapter yet lol) part out for you guys <3 just cause I love u so much. ps. the gif is a hint ;)

Every step west of that cottage distanced you further from the cold front following yesterday’s rain. The day hadn’t started exceptionally hot, but the week’s gradual dip in temperature made the sun’s increasing beat feel more eager than you’d known it as of late. The further you got, the more frequent sips you took from the lukewarm water bottle in your bag, even tying that sweater you’d been cuddling for warmth in, just yesterday, around your waist. 

Daryl seemed alright, all things considered. His arm hadn’t proved too troublesome, but the area had proved relatively deserted anyway. The two walkers you came across were tired and slow. Not much of a threat. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, either; he hadn’t shed the flannel underneath his vest yet. 

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when you met the border of the next town, a few hours later. 

“You’ve been through here before?” You asked Daryl, pointing to your spot on the map while walking side by side down the first commercial strip of the town. The stores looked like something out of a movie, quant but full of country charm. If it hadn’t been for the boarded windows and rusted cars sitting in the road, it would’ve been a lively sight. 

“When we first cleared the prison. Made our way through all the places nearby, too.” 

“Couldn’t have left a little for us?” You teased, glancing up at him. 

“There’s still some left. Shit we didn’t need.” 

“Shit we might need?” 

“Mhm. Lemme see tha’.” He grabbed the map from your hand, raising one of his own to block the sun from his eyes. He glanced over the paper, squinting at the tiny roads, then at the street sign above. 

“We can take this to Red Oak.” He tapped the street lines on the map, then continued forward. 

“What's on Red Oak?” 

He looked over his shoulder with a slight smirk. 

“Somethin’ we need.” 

It wasn’t until halfway down Red Oak Drive that you realized what that was. 

When it clicked, you smiled. 

It was an auto repair shop. Daryl had been here before, briefly as he told it, but long enough to make note of a few vehicles still in good condition. One of which was an old, dark blue hatchback that only needed a new battery and some gas to get started again. It was still sitting in the backlot, bathed in the sun’s last harsh rays of the season after the two of you made your way around the building. 

Daryl popped the hood. It was in the same condition as it was when he first found it, with a dead battery and dusty windows. 

“Do we… recharge it?” 

You didn’t know much about cars other than how to drive them. 

“Unless ya got a generator I don’t know ‘bout,” Daryl quipped, to which you softly rolled your eyes. “We need a new one.”

“Well, there’s gotta be something here.” You looked back to the building. 

“Mhm.” He nodded, closing the hood again. “Come on.” 

He kicked the back door three times. You were surprised that hadn’t been enough to bring it down; it was a flimsy thing. They must’ve not worried much about burglars in a small town like this. The brick wall was sturdy, though. Ridged edges pressed into your shoulder as you leaned against it, one leg crossed over the other while the wait began. A breeze of crisp, much more seasonally appropriate air rushed by, fluttering your few loose pieces of hair; you’d have to redo that mess of a ponytail soon. 

Daryl readjusted his hold of the crossbow, rolling his shoulders back— as well as he could, the left one was still noticeably stiff. 

You weren’t subtle about keeping an eye on him. 

“How’s the shoulder?” 

His eyes squinted under the bright sun. “Fine.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“’S a bit sore,” he admitted.

“I tried to tell you.” The loose smile on your lips was sympathetic, rather than teasing. 

“I know.” Daryl chewed at his lip. “But, I know ya get why I couldn’t stay there, neither.”

You stood a bit straighter, and the smile slipped away. 

“I do.” 

Daryl nodded. The air was heavy, not only with the newfound heat but a lingering tension— knowing— between you. If there was anyone who could understand his urge to find what was left of his family, it was you. The night you told him about your brother was still fresh in memory. There had been a vagueness you kept about the whole thing, a tone that could have sounded like a casual acceptance of fate, but Daryl remembered that look in your eye. The tear that slipped past. He didn’t have any doubt that you’d searched as far as you could for him.

But some people were too far gone. 

The shared silence between you two had grown comfortable these last few weeks. This one was different. Stretching seconds, then a minute, it made his muscles heavy. His weight felt unbalanced, even with two feet on the ground. 

Daryl had never been good with words— unless you counted those snarky quips he made. He either didn’t think at all or thought too long. It made him snappy and surly, the type of man people would’ve avoided before this thing. Somewhere there was a list of names to prove it. And yet, he had something to say. He wanted to. 

“Thank you,” he finally mumbled. 

Your expression lifted at that. “For what?” 

“For keepin’ an eye on me. Takin’ care’a me the way ya did.” 

Still, you seemed confused. A knit of your brows and a sweet look in your eye as you tried to pick apart some deeper meaning. Of course, you helped him. That’s what you promised, back at the start. 

“Of course,” you replied. “What else was I gonna do?” 

“I didn’t think you were gonna leave or nothin’,” he said, recalling your conversation while patching him up. Loyal ran deep in you, like it did him, and he trusted that you wouldn’t just leave him to rot. “But a lot’a people would’a.” 

Maybe that’s what he meant. Thank you for not being that person. 

You blinked, readjusting your focus on his serious demeanour. He was reserved, his lips drawn in and eyes barely holding your stare. 

“Well, that’s not us,” you said plainly. 

A reminder that he’d given you that loyalty, too. You weren’t sure if there were words to express how it didn’t feel so difficult to give your attention and care to the health of the man who fought tooth and nail for you to live, even after all the harm you’d caused him. It wasn’t even that you felt you owed him, but you knew he deserved it. 

Daryl gave you a small glimpse of a smile. Soft and sweet, like he was proving to be— deep down, at least. It drew a lopsided grin from you too. Your temple rested against the cool brick wall, and under the sun’s golden glow, you looked quite pretty like that. It was a talent, how quickly you could turn the charm back on; nothing else seemed to grab his attention the same way.  

“After all, what are friends for?” 

Daryl scoffed. He hoped he didn’t sound ungrateful when he blurted, “Tha’s wha' we are now?” 

“I would say so. We keep saving each other’s lives and the conversation is half decent.” You shrugged, as if indifferent. But your smile had turned playful not long ago, about the same time he noticed a warmth at his cheeks.

He’d blame it on the heat, if you asked. 

A second or two later, a walker slammed against the door. 

Daryl’s shoulder wasn’t too restraining; he lured the lone monster out and freed his knife from its skull without breaking a sweat. You gave him a quick smile of acknowledgment before the two of you stepped inside. 

The garage was in rough condition. A sign that was probably falling apart even before the world did, cheap tile floors, and a thick smell of mildew mixed with something decomposing— you were, unfortunately, quite knowledgeable about that smell, by now. The nicest thing about the building was that big roll-down window in the front that let the storefront become soaked in sunlight. The summer must’ve been a lot more tolerable with that wide open.

When the sunlight sneaking into the abandoned building didn’t reach far enough, Daryl held a flashlight in his mouth and scanned the store with his bow. His left shoulder was still stiff, so he had to depend on his other arm to bear most of the weight. Of course, you’d already tried to get him to keep it on his back, if anything, and take the gun instead— but he refused. All but demanded you keep the gun for yourself. 

The two of you searched the aisles with quiet steps, waiting for another unfriendly face to jump out of the shadows. 

It didn’t come. 

Instead, you gathered the few supplies Daryl needed, even pocketed a pair of sunglasses that you were sure would be useless after today, and went back out to that warm autumn day. Sitting on that small bench by the side of the building, eyes protected from the sun, you watched Daryl pop the hood of the car. He was quick at work, dexterous fingers tinkering with different parts of the vehicle that you could barely label. 

Between sips of water, your sight caught on those fingers— now smeared with grease— perhaps a second too long. When he turned to wipe his hands along that red rag in his back pocket, he noticed your lingering eye and paused.

Hesitated. 

With the pair of you caught off guard, you tried to break the quickly growing tension and asked, “Were you an auto mechanic before?” 

Daryl shook his head, bangs falling in his eyes as he did. He stretched underneath the hood again but spared you a glance back. Eyes squinted under the sun, the shine of sunlight hitting the grease along his exposed skin; the scene before you was beginning to look like something out of those ridiculous male model calendars. 

“I jus’ know cars,” he rumbled, a slight smirk to match that thick accent.

It was getting absurd, really; the hot sun wasn’t the only thing making you blush. 

You swallowed another gulp of water. 

It turned out the battery issue wasn’t too complicated. Daryl recounted some of his steps to you, telling you about which wire connected to which point, and so on. It was valuable information, undoubtedly worth paying attention to. The only problem was that by that point, the sun’s beat had stripped him of his vest and hitched the sleeves of his flannel around his elbows. The fact that the top three buttons were undone, opening across that broad and bare chest of his, wasn’t lost on you, either. 

It felt like a tease. He did. 

All you could do was nod along with his rough drawl and lean against the cool brick wall while you tried to deny checking him out. But really, everything else came second place to the swell of that shirt around his biceps, and his tense, thick forearms. Muscles overworked after dealing with tight gears and heavy equipment. 

The shade of those sunglasses was dangerous, giving you the excuse to let your eyes roam free all while Daryl was none the wiser— or so you hoped. 

Thoughts you hadn’t entertained in a long time began to roam free, too. It hadn't bothered you when they left; survival was the top priority, not romance or desire. Of course, the lack of time and potential suitors was a factor, too— why would you think about that when there wasn't even a chance for it? But here you were now, staring at Daryl, and recalling that fluttering feeling of attraction in your gut all too well. 

He was kind and strong. Whatever brute strength and resilience he had was matched with that three-sizes-too-big heart of his. After all, who else would take in an injured stranger, nevertheless one that attacked you just hours beforehand? Daryl might’ve blamed it on getting even, after you helped him from the window, but you knew there was something more behind that harsh stare of his. 

Something delicate. 

For whatever reason, you’d been lucky enough to see that gold-hearted nature firsthand. It sliced through his rough exterior, sparkling like a piece of glass caught in the sun. It was fragile, but you’d seemed to weave your way inside, anyway. 

You inhaled— stop. 

It might've felt otherwise, but there was still parts of Daryl you didn't know. Sometimes you forgot he was a man you’d known less than a month, been friends (barely) with less than two weeks. Even if he proved to be a good person, and was clearly easy on the eyes, from the obvious display ahead, these thoughts were intrusive. Perhaps an outcome of an idle mind. A natural attraction after a string of moments free of tension; all those life-or-death events bonded you, for better or worse, and as the urgency and blood washed off, you were falling victim to the full extent of that tie. 

“Got tha’?” 

“Mhm,” you faintly hummed. 

He said your name— no, repeated it. Embarrassment snapped you back into focus. Here you were daydreaming and practically ogling the man, while he was trying to teach you something. Help you. 

“Asked ya to grab another jug.” He gestured to the empty distilled water in his hand. Thank God, you were able to ignore that flex of his arm— mostly— when he did. 

“Right, yeah, of course,” you stammered. He tossed you the small flashlight before you scurried back into the building. The dark, cool air was a welcome relief against your hot cheeks, and you hoped it’d bring down whatever flush had inevitably crept up your chest.

At least you had those sunglasses. 

Maybe Daryl could feel your eyes roam his bare arms, chest, neck— stop— but you still had an inch of dignity left; he couldn’t prove it past the dark tint of those glasses, now sitting at the top of your head. 

Strolling through those same aisles, you grabbed another jug and tried to shake the last of those thoughts from your mind. Like how his eyes were as blue as the pretty Georgian sky, and were quickly becoming a solace for you. 

You were starting to like the looks he gave you— like he had while waiting at the door. It wasn’t that he was easy to read, no, you’d probably be fighting for a glimpse into those thoughts of his for the rest of your life. But every time you met those eyes that were once so harsh, you remembered the forgiveness he’d shared with you. The kindness. Perhaps it was a bit selfish because when you thought about that, it made something bloom deep in your chest. Something warm and sweet and good. 

You wanted to share it with him too. 

Somehow. 

Helping him find his people was your first try. You hoped you wouldn’t need a second. 

You grabbed the second jug of distilled water and turned to head back. 

A thump came from behind. 

It was odd. Two years spent in this world and yet, in a week, you’d reverted right back to that jumpy girl at the start. The air became thin, and you had to suck in a deeper breath just to keep your head straight. Heart pounding against your ribcage.

The last time you were in a dark store alone, it ended up with three people dead and Daryl shot. 

You spun around, flashlight high. The light danced across the aisles, no walkers or living under the fluorescent glow. That wasn’t enough to soothe your anxieties, so you placed the jug on the ground next to you and grabbed your gun, instead. 

It was then that your light landed on an exit sign. You could see the frame of a door below, in the far corner of the store. You approached it carefully, previously neglected as the pair of you assumed it was just a fire exit leading to that back alley, but now, with your heart still beating fast, you suspected something more lying behind that door. 

You twisted the handle carefully, gun ready in the other hand, but it was locked. 

You checked the front desk, found a ring of keys, and tried two before you found the right one. By then, your heart had slowed a bit. An engaged lock between you and that warning was slightly comforting, but you were still on edge. Finger ready by the trigger, if needed. 

The door creaked open and you stepped inside. 

Immediately, you found the source of the thump. A lone walker. Long, thin hair that was missing chunks and skin like leather stretched across its loosely hung open jaw. Its eyes were wide, staring out to the door you’d just walked through, but other than that low moan that rasped past its throat, it barely moved. 

The walker was old and frail, decomposing in this backroom alone since, if you could guess, the start. It didn’t even try to crawl. It couldn’t, there was a heavy cast on its leg reaching up to its upper thigh. A mop lying on the floor— maybe the thump. A bottle of antifreeze sat next to it, a dried splash of something bumpy and red. 

Puke. 

She killed herself. Locked alone in a backroom, with a broken leg and no other choice. 

The various ways you found the dead often reflected their last moments. Guts hanging out and bits of muscle torn from their flesh meant the obvious. Bullet and knife wounds, too. At the start, the mourning had almost been unbearable. Suffocating. Sympathy never stopped, there were simply too many roaming the world. It became dormant after one too many tried— and almost succeeded— to kill you. Then, something you only ever thought about in silent moments like this one. 

You unsheathed your knife and stepped over the fallen mop. It was the least you could do. 

The room was untouched. It didn’t have many valuables. Not for this world, anyway. There was a stack of cash and a nice bracelet in the bottom drawer of the desk, but nothing other than a couple of mints and a screwdriver that was worth keeping. In the top drawer, you found a single key on a thick, metal ring.  

You pocketed it, just in case. 

Other than the desk and those wobbly shelves filled with client records and taxes— a whole lot of paper— there was only that lumpy grey blanket, draped over something leaning against the wall, left to check out. You peeled it off carefully, but a cloud of dust surrounded anyway. Between coughs, you recognized what was underneath. The somber tone of the room lifted quickly, then. 

From the front of the store, Daryl called your name. Apparently, you’d been taking too long and his suspicions had arisen. 

“I’m okay!” you called back, clearing your throat one last time. “Be there in a second.”  

Even though you knew even less about motorcycles than you did about cars, you smiled as you gripped the handles. You were betting Daryl knew about bikes, too. You kicked up the stand and moved the bike through the store. Twisting it around the aisles and picking up that leftover jug of distilled water as you did. 

“I found something.” You grinned as you stepped back into the sunlight. 

Daryl’s eyes widened when he saw what you were leading. 

“No way.” He said, wiping his hands across the red rag, before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Where’d ya find this?” 

“Backroom. We missed it earlier.” You pulled out the keys you found as Daryl quickly grabbed the bike.

His hands ran over the handles, then the seat. 

“And I think I found the key.”

He had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face. You hadn’t even realized he could smile like that. 

“Pass ‘em ‘ere.” 

You dropped the ring in his open palm as he straddled the bike, thighs on either side. He looked down at the beast of a vehicle between his legs like it was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. 

And then he looked back at you with that same look, and it almost made those intrusive thoughts from earlier seem a bit less insane. 

You were sure you had a goofy grin of your own. “You know how to ride one of these?” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry. Stupid question,” you chuckled, eyes roaming over his leather vest— back on— and patchwork jeans. You never liked stereotypes, but Daryl sure was one sometimes. 

“Jus’ a bit,” he quipped. 

“You know,” you mumbled, smile growing, “I’ve never been on one.” 

“Never?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well, come on, girl.” 

You certainly didn’t need convincing. He shuffled forward, giving you the space to swing your leg over the seat behind him. At first, your hands grabbed at the spot, maneuvering your balance into a comfortable sit— but the overwhelming sight of Daryl's exceptionally broad back, draped in that black leather vest, soon had you squirming again. 

“Ya gotta hold on to me, alright?” 

“Okay,” you mumbled. You placed your shaky hands on his sturdy shoulders, like handlebars of your own. It was lucky that he was wearing that vest now—an extra layer between your skin and his— because you were pretty sure your palms were slick with sweat by that point. 

“Not there.” Daryl’s hand wrapped around the bend of your elbow, gently pulling your hands down. “Don’t need ya diggin’ a finger in my scab.” 

Then he repositioned them around his waist. 

Like it had been nothing. 

It had— you reminded yourself. Whatever bothered thoughts that kept slipping into mind today were an exception. Maybe your period was coming back. Or maybe that hot sun had melted away every bit of self-control you had left. 

“Ya might wanna hold on a bit tighter. It goes fast.” 

Your lungs constricted. Suddenly this felt wrong. Dangerous. 

“Wait— what about your shoulder? Should you be moving it—” 

“‘M movin’ it less sittin’ on this thing than off’a it.” 

“Well, shouldn’t we be wearing helmets or something?” 

The vibration of his laugh echoed through his back, which you were practically pressed up against. You might've cared more about his flippant attitude if he hadn’t reverberated a particularly soothing warmth back into you. 

“You chickenin’ out?” 

“No. I’m just remembering every motorcycle crash horror story my brother told me.” 

“He ride?” 

“God, no. He was an ER nurse.” 

“Well, we ain’t gonna crash.” Daryl rolled his shoulders back, and your grip tightened already. Nerves overcoming you. “Promise.” 

His confidence was reassuring. His firm body, even more so. 

“Alright then.” You nodded and the engine roared to life.  

Daryl’s feet lifted off the ground, landing on the rests just in front of yours. He found his balance quickly, even with you wrapped around his back. The pace was slow at first, a steady crawl that seemed overpowered by the loud rumble of that engine below. 

Then, when he finally passed the lot, he shot down the street. 

You couldn’t even guess how fast he was going. The world around you started to slip away, a lost frame of reference. The trees lining the road blurred into splatters of green and red, like a watercolour painting, and the wind rustled through those strands of hair that hadn't made it into your ponytail this morning. Racing through the breeze, that chill came back. Cold, little shards of air splintering across your face and hands.

The sudden bolt of movement made your stomach drop, that fluttering feeling of emptiness finding its spot. It reminded you of riding a rollercoaster as a kid, holding your brother’s hand tight and putting on a brave face as the big sister. It might’ve worked all those years ago, but you were pretty sure he’d be laughing at you now. You squeaked like a mouse, digging your face into the warm leather at Daryl’s back. The threading of his angel wings tickled your face alongside your wild hair, and you felt that familiar rumble in his chest again. 

“Ya alright?” He yelled back. 

You sucked in a fresh breath of air and peeked an eye open. It felt like the bravest peek in the world— the blurry, fast world. Though still huddled behind Daryl, with a vice grip around his steady waist, you were sure it didn’t appear very courageous to anyone else. 

“Fine!” You managed to reply, “I just didn’t expect that.” 

His gruff voice was harsher when he had to speak over that deafening engine. You barely made out his next sentence: “Want me to slow down?” 

You thought about it. But by the time you understood his offer, your eyes had opened completely, almost adjusted to the speed of the world around you. You even sat up properly, looking to your left as he raced past a strip of abandoned cars. That floating feeling inside your chest began to feel less dizzying, like Daryl’s waist was a tether to gravity as the bike ripped down the streets. He was always positioned firm and steady, like that beat of his heart you could feel against your cheek. You trusted him to keep you solid, even as the wind picked up. 

“No,” you practically squealed with a newfound excitement. “Keep going!” 

Much to your increasing delight, he kept that speed until you noticed a group of walkers at the end of the long-stretching road. He slowed down to turn, the joy and carefree adventure stained with reality, once again. The engine was loud. You glanced behind as Daryl bolted back through the street you’d just gone down, the blurry heads of the dead turning toward you in the distance. It’d been as good a sign as any to head back, with the gas slowly dwindling too. 

When you reached the car garage again, the bike crawled back through the lot, allowing you to finally take a deep breath and catch that fluttering feeling in your stomach. The bike paused and the engine turned off. The stark difference in noise was shocking— some time down that road you forgot just how loud the engine was, and just how quiet the rest of the Earth was nowadays. 

Daryl sat back, hands limply grasping the handlebars, head bowed to the beast of a motor below him. He seemed content from behind. Relaxed. 

You leaned around his shoulder. “End of the line?”

He seemed to snap back into focus then, glancing at you. 

“Gas is runnin’ low anyway.” 

You nodded, but added hopefully, “Maybe we can find more?” 

“We should use it for the car.” 

You sighed, “I know.”

The engine was still warm underneath your legs. Your disappointment was just as fresh. That could’ve been your first and only chance on the back of a bike, for all you knew. 

“Good first ride then?” 

“Are you kidding?” You laughed. “I get it now. Horror stories be damned.” 

He chuckled, even throwing you another glance back. But the second after your eyes met, his grin fell an inch. He turned his face away, too, and it hadn’t only taken a second longer for you to notice how close he was like this. You still wrapped around his back. 

“Ya gotta move so—” 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, climbing off the bike. Trying to steady yourself on the ground was harder than you anticipated; your legs felt like jelly, already missing the smooth leather beneath you.

Your eyes caught on Daryl's vest as he also got off. 

In front of you. 

The bike balanced on its stand, Daryl on one side and you on the other. Something caught his attention, just above your eyes. 

“Ya got…” He gestured with a lazy hand around the top of his head. 

Your eyes went wide, hand flying up to the wild mess of your hair. 

You patted down a patch. “There?” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, giving you the ghost of a smile.

You felt it again. Butterflies. 

Fuck. 

---

By the time you finished siphoning gas from the other cars, Daryl was done fixing the blue one. Throwing your few bags in the backseat, you climbed inside. You in the passenger seat, him behind the wheel. He liked to drive. It seemed to calm him, from that loose expression he wore. 

“We’ll keep drivin’ west, see wha’ we can find.” Daryl gripped the steering wheel with one hand. The other lingered by his mouth, thumb occasionally gnawed at. “Can siphon gas from the cars on the road. Hunt for food, sleep in the back.” 

“A home on wheels.” You rolled down the window as the car began to drift down the same streets you’d just sped through. The wind was softer than it had been on the bike. You already missed that terrifying, joyful freedom. 

There was another way you could chase it, you realized. You started to dig through the glove compartment. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” 

“CDs, hopefully.” 

His eyes flickered over you. Hair now brushed, let loose from that ponytail and tucked behind your ear as you leaned forward. The sun was still strong late into the afternoon, direct rays landing across the dashboard and reflecting onto you. It explained that glow you had. 

“God, I’d listen to anything at this point.” 

Daryl glanced over to the road, but his attention didn’t slip off you completely. 

It never seemed to, anymore. 

“Here.” You popped the cd from its case and rubbed it against the soft fabric of your sweater. “Can’t believe this is the only one. Who the hell owned this car?” 

Daryl’s lip twitched up at your soft snark. “You a music snob or somethin’?” 

“No.” You rolled your eyes. “I was just hoping for something better.” 

With one hand off the wheel, he clicked on the radio. Static rumbled from the speakers until he slid the dusty cd inside. The dark melody was slow, something that reminded him of those nights in the same run-down bar in the early nineties. A favourite of his uncle, then his brother, and while the pair of them served a stint in jail, Daryl’s. 

It was strange, feeling better off without your family by your side. But Daryl had all his life to get used to that thought. It wasn’t until he made his own family, then lost them, that he felt the opposite. He missed that group more than he could say, missed that feeling of purpose they gave him. 

Though, as the days rolled on, you were beginning to fill that ache in his chest, too. 

“Sure there’s nothin’ else in there?” 

You checked again, but it was mostly a polite gesture. There hadn’t been much in there, anyway. A pair of old gloves that you’d already stuffed in your bag, some tissue, the lone cd, and a brochure. 

“Only this.” You flickered through the pages of the sale brochure. It was for the development of a small community, units starting in the low three hundreds. The prospective opening date was off by a few years, though. You doubted they’d even broken ground before everything fell apart. 

“You really don’t like it?” 

“Ain’t exactly a fan,” he grumbled. There was a flash of disappointment across your face, caught in the corner of his eye. His frown lifted a bit. “’S fine, though. Ain’t a big deal, neither.” 

“What are you a fan of then?” You tossed the brochure back inside the box. “Now that we have a radio, next time I’m scavenging I’ll keep an eye out.” 

Daryl thought for a moment. “I dunno. Only really listened to what Merle liked.” 

You blinked, brows knitting a centimetre closer. 

“You spent a lot of time with him?” 

“When he was around.” 

Something stung in your chest. No, your heart. From the sparse details Daryl spared about his brother, Merle didn’t seem the reliable type. Every story he told was followed with stiffness. Those memories were distant and cold— the type of coolness that grew from hurt, not time. 

You knew to tread lightly. 

“What’d you guys do?” 

“Whatever.” Daryl shrugged. “Drank. Went huntin’. Nothin’ special.” 

“So you hunted even before this?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Merle taught you?” 

“My dad.”  

“Oh.” 

Daryl had never mentioned a parent before. Given the age gap, you’d assumed Merle had probably raised him a good chunk of his childhood. When he was around, anyway. 

That cold tone Daryl had for his brother extended to his father, also. A part of you wondered if that hurt had been deep, too. Maybe as deep as those scars on his back. 

It was an insensitive thought. Unfair. Daryl didn’t owe you anything, and he certainly didn’t deserve you stuffing your nose in his family’s business. 

“Do you like hunting?” 

“I liked the forest. Liked eatin’.” It was better than being home. “But I didn’t do it ‘cause I liked it. Was jus’ somethin’ I had to learn.”

With a nod, you went quiet. A softly contemplative look on your face. It piqued his interest, a flutter of nerves catching in his gut. 

“Why ya askin’?” 

“Just curious,” you answered. “You’re the only person I’ve had out here that didn’t jump at every snap of a branch.” 

“Well I got practice,” he said. “Stuck with a lotta city folk, then?” 

You turned back to him then, a sly smile hanging off your lips. “I’m city folk.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

You laughed, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Cause you’re jumpy, too,” Daryl scoffed. “Scared’a your own damn shadow.” 

“I like the forest,” you defended with a slight pitch to your words. It made Daryl smirk, too. “I just don’t like how dark it can get. It’s freaky. I’ll never get used to it. Maybe all those bright city lights mess with your brain after all.” 

Daryl nodded, and he knew the moment had presented itself. The tone shifted a bit serious when he finally asked the question that’d be pressing him. 

“Atlanta, then?” 

“Briefly.” You nodded. “My brother and I were visiting before everything happened.” 

“Heard it was bad there.” 

It was. It’d taken a long time to stop waking up in a sweat with memories of that night. 

Still, you shrugged. “It was bad everywhere.” 

“Yeah, but they weren’t droppin’ bombs everywhere.” 

“I got out before that.” 

Good timing.

“We were only there for two weeks. If the trip had been a month later, or earlier, we wouldn’t have been anywhere close to Georgia when this thing hit.” 

Daryl felt something fester in his gut. Anxiety? That distant, non-existent what-if made him shift in his seat. He could feel it looking over your side profile— the curve of your nose and lips, the soft flutter of eyelashes— and it hit him like that bullet had. Fast. 

It was true. You’d grown on him. He cared. 

“You’re not from Georgia?” 

You shook your head. “Nope.” 

“Explains the accent.” 

“Or lack thereof,” you countered. “I like yours though. It's charming.” 

Daryl scoffed, and you gave him a look. 

“What? I’m being serious. You have a nice voice.” 

A pretty shade of light pink scattered across his cheeks. You couldn’t help that loose smile you wore. It was nice to make him nervous, for once. Of course, you weren’t about to rub it in his face. You glanced away, eyes caught in the fast shades of green, orange, and red passing by the window. 

“What about you? Where were you at the start?” 

Daryl cleared his throat. “Same place I’d always been. Hometown.” 

“You never left?” 

“Nah.” 

“Not even for college or…” 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he tried not to side-eye your reaction when he finally muttered, “Didn’t go.” 

Though that part of him that held all those pessimistic, self-doubts was a strong force to be reckoned with. He didn’t need to prove himself— never cared to before— but now here he was, sitting with that gnawing feeling in his gut, wanting to. 

And yet, you barely even shrugged. 

“I almost didn’t go, either,” you said nonchalantly, eyes running over the back of the CD case. “You ever wish you had, though?” 

“Nah.” 

“Fair enough. I think you could’ve been good at it, though. You’re very…” 

Daryl waited, brow hitched as you hummed. 

“Intuitive.” You’d decided. “You know, you have good instincts. Sometimes it feels like you know what’s gonna happen before it does.” 

He sat with those words a moment, then offered one of his own: “Observant.” 

“Yeah, exactly. Maybe you could’ve been a lawyer… Or a cop.” 

“Nah,” Daryl huffed. “Cops ’n I never got along well.” 

“No?” You teased. “You used to get into trouble, Dixon?” 

“Merle did. Guess I tagged along for the ride.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I was a dumbass.” 

“You being a dumbass— that’s hard to imagine.” 

“I didn’t have to,” he quipped. 

You smiled at the easy wit that always just seemed to flow from him. 

“So you didn’t leave town before this?” 

“Not really. Never even left Georgia.” 

“Seriously?” 

He shook his head. 

“Well, maybe after we pick up your friends we can go on a road trip.” 

Daryl gave you a look. It was questioning, sure, but gentle. “Plannin’ on stickin’ around then?” 

“Well, I uh…” you paused. Curiously, you hadn’t thought about it much. Since those initially tense first days together, the possibility of parting ways with Daryl, not because of a feverish worry or a herd, but because your shared journey had reached an end, hadn’t come to mind often. The two of you hadn’t been together long, but you’d already been through a lot. Patching the other up, too many close calls to count, sharing what little supplies you had… just to say ‘see ya!’ after everything felt wrong. Incomplete. 

“If you’d let me. I don’t really have anywhere else to go— anyone else.” 

“Alright.” Daryl nodded. 

It was a short acknowledgement. A single word. It still made you smile. 

Daryl wasn’t like most people. He was forgiving and insightful. He let you live when you probably deserved to die because he wasn’t like most people. All you knew about the others was that they’d earned Daryl’s loyalty at some point, and made their own way into his sentiment, too. If he trusted them, you hoped that meant you could too. 

Hoped. 

Worry crept back in. Maybe the others wouldn’t want you there. The stain of the prison could’ve been enough to taint your reputation, completely, even if Daryl vouched for you. And, if it came down to it, choosing between you and them, there was no doubt in your mind. He wouldn’t pick the girl he knew for a couple of weeks over his real family. 

It poured out faster than you meant. Words slipped, mumbled and stuttered, “You think they might— might wanna kill me? Or, I don’t know, cut me loose?” 

“Tha’ ain’t gonna happen.” Daryl watched the road. “They’re good people. Like you.” 

The weight of worry lifted off your chest again. He had a talent for that. 

You smiled. 

Good people. 

You tried to hide the flush at your cheeks and chest, glancing out the window. “How’d you find them anyway?” 

“At the start, Merle ’n I were in the middle’a huntin’. Didn’t even know ‘bout the walkers until I found one out there, ’n it tried to take a bite outta me.” 

“Shit,” you hissed. 

“Douchebag was all over me. Smelt somethin’ awful. I started yellin’, screamin’ at the thing. Punchin’ him. He jus’ kept coming, then Merle shot it.” He scoffed, “Thought I was ‘bout to serve hard time for murder, till Merle said he’d heard something on the truck’s radio ‘bout dead bastards comin’ back to life. We left for Atlanta after tha’.” 

“Refugee camps?” 

“Never made it. That was when we found the others on the road. We stayed up by a quarry for a while. It wasn’t safe, so we kept movin’, till we found the prison. ‘Bout a year ago.” 

“You stayed there a year?” 

Daryl nodded. “We lost a lot gettin’ there. Made somethin’ of it, though.” 

“I didn’t think anything like that could be real.” You shook your head. 

He met your look. It’d gone from smiling to serious in a few sentences. That slight bite at your lip, a quiver in your brow. 

“It was," he said.

“Do you think you could ever have that again?” 

Of course, he’d thought about it. Even if he tried not to, those memories of the prison and the community they built from a grey, desolate building— a prison— were overwhelming. It was the first time in maybe his whole life that he felt a purpose. People didn’t just depend on him. They accepted him. They liked him. 

He stole another look at you. That bloom of familiarity was deep in his chest, again. 

“Maybe.” 

---

Another hour passed. The sun was softer, a cold breeze shifting through that open window until you finally rolled it back up. You still stared outside, watching the trees slip by.

Daryl had traced the backroads back to the main road leaving the prison, and you’d been travelling west since. The same way he’d seen the bus go. It seemed strange that they hadn’t come up with an official rendezvous spot, just a last chance at loading on that bus together. But maybe a more detailed plan would’ve been useless anyway; places didn’t last long, nowadays. 

The car rolled to a stop. Your head lulled to face forward, finding a slight ache in your neck when you finally tore your eyes away from the window. A question sat at the tip of your tongue, about to slip when your eyes landed on the answer. 

Instead, you gasped, “Oh my God.” 

There, sitting in the road, was the bus. 

Splatters of blood painted the siding. A dozen or so bodies sprawled by the back door. Some were piled on top of each other, limbs mixed. Others lay alone. All of them had turned before they were put down for good. 

You could just tell. 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed his white-knuckle grip around the steering wheel. The veins in his hands popped out, muscle turned into stone, and there was no use in glancing up at him; you already knew that look of pain— despair— he had. Could practically feel him begin to bottle up every word, emotion, or care. 

You were the first one to exit the car. 

Goosebumps broke out on your skin as a cold breeze took hold. That chill sunk into your skin with the sound of the second door opening, and something stiff and heavy clouded behind you. 

It was coming from him. You knew that already. It made that pit of dread in your gut even heavier. 

Was it fury he was feeling? Grief? 

Even when you finally did glance back at him, lingering by the car's side, you still couldn’t say for sure. That glossy look in his eye was certainly bitter. Tense with emotion that you knew he was fighting to reign in. It left him with a dark glare as he stared at the dead faces of his people— the only ones he’d known for sure got out. He had practice keeping that type of anger silent. Not the one that made you punch some asshole at the bar, but the type that was born out of misery and regret. 

He’d been abrasive at the cabin. Then softer after the pharmacy. Even strained in the cottage, with you tending to his back. But he’d never forced himself numb before, not like this. You could tell he was holding back. A guttural scream, you thought, from the tension in his neck and that vein threatening to pop out where a swollen bump had been a few days prior. 

But his lips drew shut in a taut line, and he was quieter than the rustle of the trees. 

It made your stomach knot. Though, you were sure it was no worse than what he might have been feeling— if he'd let himself. His only lead: bloody, dead, and rotting in the middle of the road. If you’d kept driving, the tires would’ve ripped through decaying muscle and crushed bone. 

It wasn’t fair. 

The gas station. His wounds. The bus. These people, lying like trash on the road. No more significant than the withering leaves beside them. 

There wasn’t the time, nor the energy, to spend digging graves. But you dragged each limp body, one by one, to the side of the road. Right where the grass bled into the concrete, they laid. 

Sometime around the third body, Daryl began to help. He picked up the opposite limb with his good arm, then eventually his bad one too. 

Nothing but that gloss across his eye to tell you these people meant anything to him. He was retreating by the second. Crawling back into that ugly pit of animosity and cynicism that always seemed to have a spot waiting for him. Each body you moved reaffirmed it. Pushed him deeper as hollow eyes fell on the cold faces of the people he cared about. He fed. He protected. 

Or, tried to. 

It was never enough. 

-> part 9

A/N: so much happened in this part I mean... reader finally realizing she might have a lil crush on him... the bike ride... the car conversation... THE BUS

anyway. back to our regular scheduled bad shit happening to our fav fictional characters. if u have any predictions or thoughts, lmk :p

FYI: I'm expecting to miss next weeks posting. I have too much to do with exams, sorry! after that ill be graduated so lots of free time coming up lol.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[jogos-delulu-wife]

MKAY, SO— allow me to unleash my cum storm—

I was thinkin bout nsfw stuff with our malewife and I think it’s kind of a switch situation?? I can’t imagine him being sub completely, but at the same time he’s not a total top either—

BUT YO—

IMAGINE— JUST IMAGINE JOGO UNDER US?? LIKE, SHIVERING FROM OUR TOUCHES AND EVERYTHIN’?? He’ll probably avoid eye— LOL— contact too ‘cause of embarrassment and that “humans are trash” thing, omg. He totally loves it too I think, but he’ll literally NEVER agree to it…But can you force it out of Jogo by teasing the shit out of his body and stuff? MAYBE— YES EVEN—

AND IF WE’RE TALKIN’ BOUT A TOP JOGO— I— HHNNHHWHDDH— MOTHER OF GOOOOD—

BWAHAHAHA, and what do you think about this?? :3 ( I wanna hear your own headcannons, pookie— )

>:D & So it begins

Sub & Dom Head-cannon’s

Let me start this off- Curse cum is Black in color, deny it all you want but I’d imagine it to fit the aesthetic, it’s black, it’s a thicker texture, stickier, and if you toy with it long enough is like squishing gummies/marshmallows, it’s starts making a web texture and stretch’s and it’s messy in such lewd way 🤭

Jogo’s cum is hot- when he comes inside it’s almost comforting how warm it makes you feel- in the winter this man’s body keeps you warm on this outside and double stuffs you to keep you warm on the inside he’s the whole package 🥰

Man will burn his hand prints and finger prints into you if you beg or give him permission, he’s a curse but since your so dear to him he obviously cares for you and wants to take care of you regardless

Subby Male Wife

(Writing this from 1st Pov 🤭)

Kneeling at the edge of my bed i looked up at Jogo, his distorted expression, eye was forced shut but the tears on his faint lash line were visible, soft grunts through his clenched teeth, i went back down right hand pumping his cock while I played with his cocks small slit. The tip of my tongue rubbing against its head and hearing those strained grunts, i leaned forward taking more of his cock hearing how he started to grunt, i took his right hand in my left squeezing

“Cmon Jogo, one more time and I promise I’ll make you forget everything else and you’ll only feel so good.” I moved to kiss his thighs still pumping his cock, the sounds he made were egging me on getting me more desperate to feel him inside. Looking up at him, hd Barely lifted his head, i got the full view of his flushed face, the purple hue on his cheeks, the saliva shining his lips has he gasped, his hands ripping into my sheets.

“My desperate little boy,” i let go of his cock watching it spring up to smack against his abdomen, he gasped at the feeling hips bucking up trying to follow my hand.

“Y/n,” i smiled as his rough whisper crawling over him, he looked so small and corruptible, “Jogo” i cooed at him straddling his hips, guiding his hot hands against my thighs and up my sides, he moved them down to squeeze my thighs when i slowly started to sink into his cock, i watched his back arch, head forced back into my pillow with a clenched eye and grunting though clenched teeth, his finger tips burning against my skin in a painful way, running my hands up his chest and dragging my nails back down, i started grinding against him feeling his stuttering hips rub against my clit, the hot feeling in my pussy gave away he’d cum from just bottoming out, “cmon Jo, you can do better than that,”

I started to grind on him harder breathing heavier when he started to thrust, i guided his hot fingers to my clit, he rubbed his thumb in circles slowly catching the tip that sent shivers through my body, my orgasm starting to build while i kept bouncing on Jogo’s cock, his fingers leaving burning marks in my thighs as he begged eyes forces shut tears, nails marking my thighs, his hips thrusting to meet my bounces. His gasps sinful and shivering as he swallowed for air chest heaving while i started dragging my nails against his collarbone and chest

“Fuck, Jogo,” i leaned down against him my chest on his kissing him and fucking his cock, he whimpered hands moving up to my hips, pulling back while panting for air i tried to roll us over “Fuck me Jogo, i know you can fuck me good and feel me with your cum, fuck me raw and hard, cum inside me let me cum on your cock,” i grabbed him by the back of the head pulling him down to kiss him again, he started to thrust, slowly, the drag of his cock was amazing hiring every spot, i could feel the veins on his cock rubbing against my pussy spreading my juice all over his abdomen and cock, my thighs were getting sticky and soaked when he started to thrust harder, faster making my bed thud lightly against the wall

“I’m close, damn human,” he grunted, i could feel his body tremble, “shouldn’t feel this way for something so weak.” He grunted when i dug my nails into his shoulders “Don’t get so brave Jogo, your my little virgin, i took your virginity, if you don’t like my pussy that much,” i started to rake my nails down his back and he hissed “i can push you off and make you jerk off like a Sad little boy.” He burried his face in my neck biting down on my shoulder

“Touch me, make me cum first and I’ll let you cum inside, i won’t make you pull out and waste your cum on your hand.”

Instantly i felt Jogo shove his hand between us his feeling up my clit making e gasp and try to grind my clit against his hand “fuck it feels so good jo you’re doing so good don’t stop touching me please.” I could feel his cock twitching more when i started to praise him

It didn’t take long before i was cumming on Jogo’s cock, his hips were stuttering dick twitching and locked my legs around his hips “Cum inside me, cum inside me baby, you deserve it for being so good” i watched as he sat back, pulling my legs up and thrusting roughly causing the bed to rock harder hitting the wall, his cam hissing and with a breathy moan calling “Fuck, y…y/n” he kept panting hands burning their marks into my thighs, i watched when he pulled out the hot hot feeling inside of me, his cum was close to hurting, it was hot and sticky, black in color but made the perfect strands to mark up your pretty cunt and face, sticky hot black cum was slowly forcing it way out around His softening cock. I smiled at him, “Mm, wouldn’t it be cute if gave you a little jogo?”

Instantly I felt how his cock started to twitch again, “Let’s see how many more times you can be good and cum for me.”

Dom King

Head cannon- bc idk how I’m writing this out honestly-

Daddy Jogo- is a menace, he has a strong superiority thing, it sends shivers down you back when he side eyes you almost sneering-

Yes daddy- look down on while you have to look up at me I’ll be on my knees if it pleases you 🧎

Why drives him to dominate you, to prove humans are hardly reliable for anything, to put you in your place and prove you belong under him, really degrading and little bit of choking, marks up your body to prove how weak you are while filling you up cursing you for your human body that can’t take his seed ánd make a kid if you didn’t have such an abusable cursed technique

It’s his pleasure over yours, he makes your to edge and deny your orgasm until the very end, so you squirt all over his abdomen and cock, he calls you a “pathetic disgusting human,” before saying “getting carried away on my cock you made a mess all over me do something useful and clean up this mess.” Has you start licking his cock clean before shoving his cock into your mouth to the point your nose was pressed against his abdomen and you couldn’t help but moan while he used you, truthfully he seems so selfish, demanding and controlling but in the end 😔 Pussy’s never been more satisfied then when it’s been triple stuffed 2/3 different times by Jogo’s Black Hot and sticky seed, it’s a scene to behold when his cum is smeared on your thighs and cunt 🤭

———————————————————

“Ah, fuck, Jogo please, please please please i wanna cum I’m so close”

Jogo started to thrust harder, his balks slapping against your clit and mound, his hands grabbing your waist tight forcing you back against him with every thrust, his Cock was heavy and hot on your insides a shiver running down your back and eyes rolling when he angels his hips up rubbing against a spongy place deep inside, panting your arms gave out face into the pillow as you moaned out freely thinking your were gonna cum until you felt that addicting burn on your insides, your walls, cunt and thighs burning when Jogo pulled out unloading another round of cum on your body, your thighs and pussy connected to his cock and thighs by the thin strands of cum he’d coated your pussy in hours before, you felt the hot hand burning its way down your back and grabbing the back of your neck, “I’ve told you already, you can cum when i let you, but now you need to remember your place is under me, pleasing me, understanding that your useless unless i give you a purpose.”

You nodded shivering feeling your skin start to burn hotter under his hand eyes rolling back “Yes, yes sir, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, please keep cumming inside me, I’ll do anything”

Jogo scoffed at your begs “Just proves humans can’t do anything right, so many men” he grinned pumping his cock with his free hand lining the head up to your entrance, “and you only want-“ he shoved in only stopping when his balls were pressed against your cunt, “my cock, if you humans weren’t so pathetic maybe you wouldn’t need a curse’s cock to make you cum, to make you beg and squirt, if a human man could make you scream and stuff you the way I do, you wouldn’t be under me letting me burn my hands into your skin stuffing your pussy with potent cum your just wasting, your pussy’s so tight it’s forcing my seed out and even trying to push my cock out but that’s not going to work.”

Jogo’s hands grabbed your waist, nails bitting your skin when he started to force you against his thrusts, stopping to flip you onto your back thumbing your clit throwing one of your legs over his shoulders spreading you open to his free hand pressed against your tummy then your womb feeling how his cock rubbed your insides, “his cock was twitching when your walls pulsed and clenched around him”

“If your body could take my seed you’d have a purpose, but your so weak, your cursed technique is even worse,” he kept thrusting leaning down to bit your neck teeth grazing and marking every inch of flesh he could bite, suck and burn, he wanted to grand you as his, “I can I can bee good i can give you a baby if you let me cum! Please!” You begins eyes tearing up, he pulled away looking at you before his warm slick tongue licked away your tills he whispered in your ear

“You? Give me a heir?” His teeth grazed below your ear, “Prove to me you can even carry my seed and I’ll swear on my child’s life I’ll give you the best orgasms of your life ever night during your pregnancy. If you can’t, I’ll just keep using you however i want.” You knew it was a lie, he’d never leave you unsatisfied no matter how many hours he edged and denied your orgasms, he always made you scream his name head thrown back digging your nails into his skin legs locked around his hips holding his cock and cum balls deep almost in your womb

“I WILL I PROMISE PELASE PLEASE CUM INSIDE LET ME CUM ON YOUR COCK” begging like a whore you started to hump again his thrusts for more friction before he puleld away pounding into your pussy, the wet slick bodies filled your ears and you moaned out stomach aching from the contraction of your muscles, nails digging into his forearm, thighs twitching and squeezing his waist when his hand smacked your clit before spreading your lips open spitting on your clit and rubbing fast circles with his fingers, his thrusts getting hard the bed started to slam against the wall, bed creaking like he was trying to fuck your womb instead of pussy, his hand on your clit heating up, his cock felt like it was getting hotter on your inside and he came the pressure of his cum pushing up again your cervix and g spot and your lifted your hips off the bed with a gasp and cry squirting shamelessly still trying to fuck yourself on his cock, his thrusts slowed as you started to come down from your orgasm,

“You humans always making a mess of things,” he pulled out grabbing a plug similar to the ones he kept in his ear plugging your cunt up before grabbing your hand pulling you up and to the edge of the bed where he stood, pulling your further your crumbled to your knees face getting smacked by his hard cock, his fist in your hair forcing your face against his cock and wet abdomen, “You should clean up your messes if you don’t want to be punished.”

Licking your juices off his abdomen and cock, sucking the head of his cock after he said you missed a spot and forced you to take only the head in your mouth and jerk the rest of him off, he was getting close and you were to dazed out from your orgasm to register when he folded you in half on the edge of the bed, shoving the head of his cock again your interest after pulling out your plug and letting his last load fill you up warm and full, the thin strands of black cum on your thighs stretched when he spread you open, burying his fingers in your cunt and pushing his spilling cum deeper into you before plugging you back up.

“Let’s see how many more times you get to cum this year.”

You didn’t tell Jogo, but 3 weeks later and keeping your cursed technique active, your reversed curse techniques and having Geto help you out, the fetus in your womb was officially 3 weeks, and here you laid on your bed, shaky thighs spread wide open, hands pressed against Jogo’s head while he sucked on your clit fingers knuckle deep, face covered in the juices of your past 2 orgasms while he was grinding against the bed, his free hand pressed firmly against your stomach in just over 9 months you’d have his child and without a doubt, he’d be filling you up with cum to give him another

🤍🤍🧡🩶🧡🤍🤍🧡🩶🧡🤍🤍🧡🩶🧡🤍🤍

I’m a little dummified but i tried 🥺 I’ll retry if y’all think it can be better 🤍 but Merry Early Christmas and Even Earlier Happy New Years 🥳🎉🎉

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Promptober: Day Twenty Eight

Eddie Munson x fem!reader 1079 words.

Eddie was a little surprised when you and Robin decided to take up Nancy’s offer of learning how to knit. He was less surprised when Robin gave up after two days, but shocked nonetheless that his friend had attempted such a time consuming thing in the first place.

But we watched you learn slowly, spending Sundays with Nancy at her house, both of you surrounded by colourful yarn, coming back to Eddie with a satisfied grin on your face and pieces of fluff stuck to your clothes - and on the bad days, a few scratches and bloodied marks from misdirected needles. 

He watched in amusement as some of your creations made their way into your friends wardrobes. The colder October weather called for layers and warmth, and so Dustin and Mike really could say no to the too long scarves you draped round their shoulders. They were mostly navy blue, a little too skinny and the end piece of one side was a forest green, evidence of how you’d run out of wool. 

“It’s avant-garde,” you’d insisted. 

Lucas and Max had matching socks, both a bright mustard yellow with a a tiny sheep stitched onto the ankle. When asked ‘why a sheep?’ by the boy, you’d shrugged and told him it was easier to sew than a demogorgon. Lucas agreed, wore his to his basketball games with pride and even though Max had cringed, she liked to wear them under her boots, the ones she loved to stomp around in. 

Will, El and Steve all got mittens, some missing a finger, some with an extra one or two, but all warm and soft, they each insisted, always trying their best to spare your feelings. So they were happy when you grinned and Eddie was even happier when he spotted Will wearing them to a hellfire meeting one day, the same fondness he felt as Dustin hung up his scarf. 

Eddie felt a little left out, yet to receive one of your handmade concoctions. But then you appeared one night, knocking softly on the trailer door, despite how Eddie and even Wayne had told you that you had a spare key for a reason.  

But the boy found you on the step, face nipped by the chill and you beamed at him, hair wild from the wind. He ushered you inside, took you by the hand back to the warmth of his bed and he wasn’t at all surprised when you toppled down with him, legs braced on either side of his hips. 

Eddie loved you like this, happy in the softest way, smile shy, eager to touch and be touched. So he smoothed his hands over the denim covering your thighs, squeezing at your affectionately. You had orange fluff in your hair and he refrained from commenting on it, ‘cause you were too busy delving into your handbag that you’d laid on his stomach. 

The leather of it was chilly on his bare skin and he flinched. 

“S’cold, babe,” he murmured, lifting it slightly, but you were too busy searching to offer more than a distracted mumble back. 

“I know,” you told him offhandedly, “s’why I’ve got something for you.”

Eddie raised his brows, lips twisted into an amused smile. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you agreed, pulling out some books and pens, scattering them across his bed. “It’s in here somewhere.”

“I thought you’d finished this last week?” Eddie commented, lifting the book by its front cover. The pages flapped and notes fell out, written in ink of every colour. 

“I did, but I forgot what parts were my favourite,” you answered, muffled now, as a knitting needle was held between your teeth.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Eddie muttered, taking the offending object out of your mouth and away from the bare skin of his torso. “You’re gonna do us some damage. What are you even lookin’ fo—”

“Here!” You gasped excitedly, eyes bright as you shoved something colourful at him. “Here. I made this for you. Sorry it took so long.”

The present was a hat, Eddie noted, a knitted thing that actually seemed to be in perfect proportion. It was stripy, each line a different colour, deep reds, forest greens and navy’s, mustard yellow and a dark violet. A pom-pom sat on top, black to match the thicker band that was folded around the stripes and you’d even found a pin to attach to it, a tiny Dio logo that made Eddie grin wide. 

“Baby,” Eddie mumbled, voice soft and sticky with fondness. “Baby.”

You preened, watching his brown eyes turn wide with affection and you clasped your hands to your chest, resting them under your chin as you waited for his verdict. You’d tried really hard to make it perfect. 

“D’you like it?” You asked quietly. 

“You made this? For me?” Eddie asked, voice a little awed. He didn’t get presents all that often, especially one that had that much thought behind it. 

You nodded. 

“I love it,” Eddie declared and you squeaked as he sat up suddenly, your bag falling from between you both as you clung to his shoulders. 

He jammed the hat onto his head with a flourish, curls a little wild and messy as they stuck out from underneath it. He grinned and the bobble wiggled. 

“It fits,” you noted with relief, hands petting at the boy’s hair, trying to tame it a little. 

“It’s perfect,” Eddie told you, hands circling your waist to pull you into his lap more. You were chest to chest, nose to nose and he kissed at your cheek, your jaw. “You’re perfect.”

You thought you were far from it, the bandaids on several of your fingers suggesting otherwise but you forgot about them as Eddie took your face in one big hand, your still cold cheeks squished gently between fingers and thumb. 

He kissed you sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and something spiced, all cinnamon and smoke. 

“Gonna wear it all the time,” he told you proudly, beaming, dimples on show. Smiley Eddie was your favourite. “Tell everyone my girl made it for me.”

You ducked your head, shy, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, flushed from the praise the boy loved to shower on you. “Yeah?” You asked to his chest, fingers playing with the chain at his neck. 

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, dotting more kisses to the parts of your face he could reach. “You’re gonna have to hide it from me when summer comes ‘round.”

[preciadosbass]

4/8/24

woke up at 9 and got dressed into my saw 2004 shirt [again], black ripped skinny jeans, knee high converse, a danger days zip up hoodie, my can tab necklace i made + a chain, and various band bracelets. it took me longer than it needed to for me to get ready because i was briefly watching/listening to my chemical romance’s live in valencia [2011]. it took me like 40 minutes to get ready and once i was done i had time to take a few pictures of my outfit. i’m the awkwardest at taking pictures of myself, even if they dont have my face in.

i put a few more pins on my bag to replace spaces that pins had fallen off of and then said goodbye to boris + took a few pictures with him as i only have two. they came out really cute. i got in the car at 10:30 and we left for the zoo at around that time. the drive is decently long so i put my main 33hour playlist on and packed two heartstopper books. i went on my phone for a while when we set off and then started reading volume two of heartstopper. i finished the book around the same time i started writing this part of my entry, so, 11:25 or something.

it took us over two hours to get there, and once we did we met up with my cousins who were coming off the safari drive. i find its more awkward with them as i’m growing up, i was more sociable as a kid, and now all i want to talk about is taking photos and bands. plus, all my cousins are in their late 20s. i still really like hanging out with them though, mainly because it doesn’t happen a lot. once we’d figured out where we were going we headed to these really organised gardens. they hand a pond with fish and a fountain and i looked at it and thought i wouldn’t mind living there.

we saw the wallabies and mostly walked around when we first got there because our safari drive was soon and we’d need to go back to where we were originally. we unfortunately couldn’t see the animals around the garden area anyways. we split up with my cousins and lined up to get in the safari truck. we set off at around 2:30. i got a window seat but i was feeling insecure in a way to take photos because my dad had taken his professional camera where literally every photo you take turns out nice. i was also scared we’d run out of time to do anything after the drive because he’d agreed to let me use it to take pictures of the big cats. we set off on the drive but i didn’t get many photos because the truck was obviously constantly moving.

it was really cool, though. i like safari stuff. the first few animals we saw were deer, a moose, and some camels. one of the camels stood infront of the truck and refused to move, so they had to get another vehicle loaded with food for it to run after so it could let us pass lmaoo — i didn’t really see much of the other animals, most of them were the opposite side to where i was sitting and i couldn’t see much if i did look because my dads camera is really long. he said he didn’t get many good photos either, so at least it wasn’t just me. like i said, i didn’t see much or manage to take many photos so i’m not entirely sure what i saw, but the journey took an hour and once we were loaded off we met back up with my cousins.

while we were on our safari tour, they were having afternoon tea, so one of my cousins brought back two scones for me. which was really nice because i was clearly exhausted + famished from the heat and not eating all day but i was really worried about what was in it and if itd make me gain. after reuniting with them, we started walking around the actual zoo. id been going on about the big cats without even realising so we saw a few random animals and then headed to that kind of area. on the way there we had something to eat when i had a scone because there was nothing packed i could eat. i really regret it because it didn’t really fill me up, but i must shamefully admit it tasted good.

sadly i couldn’t see the lynx’s, but i did see this otter looking small cat? i’m still figuring out my camera, so i couldn’t work out how to blur the bars around it, but my dad worked his magic and sort of erased them. by this time everyone else had walked off though, so i didn’t get a good photo cuz i didn’t want to hold up everyone’s day. continuing on with the trail, there were a few more cats but i think they’d gone in theyre inside enclosure bit, or they were just really good camouflagers. we also saw these weird ant eater looking things having their food.

there were two workers putting anti fly cream on it and it got a little freaked out. we carried on going around the park and saw a huge enclosure of gorillas. one of them was using a bit of bamboo-like stuff as a walking stick. i wouldn’t have minded living in their enclosure either, the inside bit even had a personalised slide. afterwards was the monkeys, they were all eating and really, really fast so it was practically impossible to get any pictures of them but i told myself i needed to because i do whenever i go to zoos. the bar thing didn’t seem to work anymore so the photos came out atrocious but at least i tried i guess 😭

we also saw these miniature dog things, i took nice photos pose wise, but all i can focus on is the fact it looks blurred in places. once we’d gone round the whole path, the zoo had technically already shut so we said goodbye to everyone else and set off for home. it took even longer to get home because everyone was also coming home from being out. i didn’t end up reading my second heartstopper book because i listened to music for a small while and then slept instead.

i’m not entirely sure when we got back, but i was really happy to see boris. my aunt had come round to feed him and check on him earlier so i wanted to see if he’d eaten. i took my mums laptop outside to the driveway so i could cuddle with him and email the photos i took on my camera to myself. i finished doing that at 9. boris wanted to come in quite quickly, and i don’t blame him. it was freezing. it was funny because he fake stretched on the front door and let himself in. after that i went on my phone and charged it a little, then looked at some band merch on depop.

i’m planning on buying a few things, if they ship to the uk, that is. so far ive added a killjoys book [9 dollars] a brendon urie funko pop [7 dollars], a gerard way funko pop [16-20 pounds], and a pierce the veil necklace [6 dollars] to my wish list/basket. concidering what it is and the difference between dollars and pounds [according to my dad] i think everything’s priced good, for my broke ass. also saw in the process that the bat belt buckle id been eying up as been sold so i’m gunna go sob in a corner now.

my parents went up to their room so i came up and asked about my mum sorting out purchasing the stuff for me tomorrow as i’m not supposed to do things like that myself. she agreed and i went downstairs to accompany boris. i was with him the entire time it took me to write this section of my ‘journal’, or whatever you wanna call it, so a long time. i went upstairs to my sisters room at 11:10 and tried convincing her to go to sleep because all of us couldn’t until she did. i ended up attempting to get her to sleep but it didn’t work, so my mum did and i asked the questions about boris afterwards.

they went pretty smoothly, we were all just really tired. once i’d done i went back downstairs, looked at depop some more and added some more stuff to my wish list/basket once id texted a few sellers if they ship to the uk. this time i added two deer jaws [almost ten dollars], taxidermy millipede [offering £8], a gerard way poster [£3], so much for stardust cassette [this’ll be my first cassette if i get it, offering £8], and another brendon urie funko pop because the other one shops to usa only. i’m really excited for tomorrow for when i can hopefully buy everything listed. i love expanding my merch/taxidermy collection.

by this time, it was 1:40 so i did my teeth and said goodnight to boris. while i was saying goodnight to boris he warned me and seemed angry so i immediately got worried because i cant even remember the last time he did that. i know he wasn’t trying to be aggressive, he just must’ve not liked what i was doing but i was just stroking under his chin like i do everynight. he was purring afterwards which made me really worry because that means he’s stressed. i cried for quite a while while apologising to him.

i hate even imaging him being not okay, let alone having plain proof that he’s not as happy as he usually is. i brought his food to him and gave him some treats. i ended up just getting more and more scared as time went on so i went out to see him and he ran away from me which is really unlike him so i went to ask my mum if she thinks somethings wrong. she wasn’t waking up and i took it as i sign i shouldn’t disturb her but when i was about to turn back she woke up. she and dad told me that he’s okay and will be okay in the morning. i love boris so much, i really wish that he knew. i tried calming myself down, blew him more kisses and went to sleep at around 3.

* as you can tell, this monkey photo is the one i took where the bar thing on my camera especially wasn’t working. i’m only putting this here because it’d be decent photo without the bars — i think.. i don’t know. i get weird about photos i take when they’re recent. anyways, enjoy the picture of me and boris from this morning

have a good day/night O_o

[jeanbean01]

Take a Cup of Kindness - Riddler x Reader

Words: 1k

Warnings: None

Summary: It's a different New Year's Eve for Eddie this year.

A/N: This was a very quick little thing I felt like doing. Happy New Year guys, I hope you all have a good night whatever you get up to! :)

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

It was unlike Edward to have plans on New Year’s Eve. He typically stayed holed in his apartment, laying in bed and staring blankly at the walls as the commotion of the city celebrating hindered his sleep. There was no point taking part in the holiday if he had no one to spend it with, so he would simply let the day run its course like any other.

This year was different; KMTJ was throwing a work party and everyone seemed to be going.  Edward didn’t want to go, but you had managed to convince him with a small plea and a soft smile. 

You were the nicest of all his co-workers by a long shot. You never failed to smile brightly at him when passing his desk and mumble a quiet ‘hello, Edward’. Your gait speed would make the papers on his desk flutter and your sweet perfume waft across his workspace, causing his heart to stutter and his breathing to deepen. 

With the promise of you being present tonight, Edward couldn’t resist attending– especially with the chance of seeing you dressed in something other than your work clothes.

Edward took one last glance in his cracked mirror, doing a once-over of his attire. He wore some brown slacks, and a pale green shirt with a deep green tie to match. He threw on a blazer and a woollen scarf to help combat the cold and then made his way out of the apartment.

He felt entirely out of his comfort zone once he entered the bustling building, the blasting of Christmas music mingled with the chattering of his fellow staff made him shrink into his own body.

There was a collection of glasses filled with alcohol on the long buffet table, and he quickly scooped up a glass of prosecco. He stared intently at the rising bubbles before taking a large gulp from the glass, cringing at the taste. 

Clasping the drink firmly in his hand, he stood awkwardly by the wall, searching desperately for your figure in the crowd. 

Unlike usual, it was you that spotted him first,  and you bee-lined over to him with a beaming smile.

“Edward!” You shouted gleefully, making him jump, “I’m so glad you made it!” 

You squeezed his arm and pecked his cheek quickly, blushing once you realised the forwardness of your actions.

Edward didn’t notice your blush, though. His mind was focused on the wetness left on his cheek from the press of your soft lips. 

He muttered a feeble greeting while his cheeks flushed and took a rushed sip of his prosecco. “Are you looking forward to ringing in the new year?” You asked, an excited smile plastered on your face.

“Oh. Um…” He hesitated and glanced to the side, “Yeah… It’ll be nice to share it with everyone.”

“Yes! It will!” You said with vigour, “I haven’t celebrated the New Year with people in so long. It’ll be a nice change.” Edward frowned at this. Had you been just as lonely as him each year? 

He smiled sadly, “Me either.” He said.

The next few hours were spent watching you dance giddily at the side of the dancefloor– not quite drunk enough to take part fully but eager to have your own fun. Edward had drunk his fair share and was feeling tipsy himself, but didn’t yet dare to join you. He was still having fun though, watching you sway to the music– throwing your arms to and fro. In fact, this was one of the most pleasant evenings he’d had in a long while. 

As the night continued, you both drank more, and you even tempted Edward to dance awkwardly with you. You twirled with him, forcing him to do the same but with his tall frame, you struggled to reach over his head and laughed as you both stumbled.

Edward had never danced with anyone before.

Midnight was approaching rapidly and the room was preparing for the countdown. You grabbed two more drinks and huddled with Edward in the corner, hiding away from you’re other, meaner, co-workers.

The chanting of the countdown began and you moved closer to Edward, your lips nearly brushing his ear. 

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked.

He tensed up at the feel of your breath so close to his face, closing his eyes to regain his composure, “Yeah?”

“Have you ever had a New Year’s kiss?” You questioned, waiting until he looked at you, an expression of confusion painted on his face, “It’s supposed to be good luck to have one,” You followed.

Edward had barely kissed anyone in his life– it had certainly been many years since a girl had first kissed him out of pure pity. 

“No… No, I haven’t.” He stuttered, his eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment.

“Would you like to be mine?” You moved slightly closer, making sure to reach his eyes.

Edward responded with a weak hum and a nod of his head– his cheeks flushing brightly.

As the cheers of ‘Happy New Year!’ rang through the room, you brought your mouth to his, pressing softly on his lips.

He groaned at the contact, moving his hand to the back of your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss. 

You obliged, parting your lips and allowing him to lick into your mouth, letting a breathy laugh out of your nose at his eagerness.

The two of you continued to kiss languidly for a while, content to spend the first minutes of the new year attached. 

Eventually, you both pulled away and Edward beamed at you, a glittering sparkle in his eye.

“Thank you,” He spoke, “That was… nice.”

You giggled, pecking him once more.

“It was.” You smiled, “Happy new year, Eddie.”

You gave him another slow kiss before dragging him onto the dancefloor with you, spending the rest of the night in each other’s arms. 

This year was going to be different-- Edward could feel it. 

[berrychanx]

Tokyo Mew Mew New Ep 18 Toughts

Again this episode left me without words, i don’t know how or where to start. Guess I’ll start by saying what i liked the most

Number one gotta be kid Ryou playing scientist in his dad lab. not that the original depection of him was bad but this time I feel like he’s really into science, his father steps, the mew project everything

The original japanese subs said UMA which stands for Unidentified Mysterious Animal

ACTUAL SCIENCE AND UMA DNA LET’S GOOOOOO

From Keiichiro biography card,

this confirms his adoptation into the Shirogane family

The foreshadowing

Ryo’s father acknolodging his a must better scientist and researcher than him

Knowing the burdens Ryou will have if he continues the follow his foosteps

Aoyama nightmares continue, everything is under this blueish grey atmosphere, Darkness and ugly thoughts are consuming his mind

The Chimeras

They appeared cause Ryou was researching UMA? Or where the aliens already stablished on Earth? I hope we get answers to this

They have a gem, so it’s probably they were infused with an alien parasite by either the aliens or whatever Ryou was researching had escaped the lab

Family

Even though the shirogane family interaction with Keiichiro was short, i loved it, somehow I felt like he was a cared for member of their family and because of that the outcome was more emotional.

THANKS GOD, NEW DIDN’T MADE IT LOOK LIKE A SUICIDE LIKE IN THE MANGA OR A RANDOM FIRE STARTING LIKE IN THE ORIGINAL. She tried ... :( Mew Project The rest develops like in the manga and the original with Ryou having memorized everything but this time we get a glimpse into the research

They went to every spot that had the RDA they needed for research, based. We also see this two characters growing

I never about this because how cat Ryou looks in the original,but IS HE SUPPOSED TO BE A BLUE RUSSIAN?

Having Ichigo mention us, the mews, just  confirms what I’ve been saying, he cares for all the same way

A bit of character development on Ichigo side, she’s feeling guilty for the way she treats him, despite him caring for their safety even if its his fault that they’re in this situation, what a loop.

I love that they keep focusing on green enviromental solutions, more care for the enviroment, animals, plants, etc like we’d seen at the end of every TMM volume with WWF, this is the basic idea of TMM.

Nice plot idea for the aliens

It’s still a enemy of the day kinda of plot but with some truth behind its actions I LOVE IT

Can confirm this, I live near a river (Rio Tejo) and since the waters are more clean now every year we get visits from a dolphin family (will share videos later)

Confrontations

More Pie x Lettuce confrontation, YES YES YES, let’s develop this please, I want them to have a debate with each other

Lettuce stepping up, Ryou worried with her safety,, all it took was for her to stand firm in her belives, she was the best Mew for the job and she belives she can handle it then she’ll try no matter what, I know its hard to see but when Ryou’s looking at the red sea we can see a white thing moving, its Lettuce and Masha being swept away, that’s why Ryou says this line

I love how she relied on everyone trusting her to find the courage to keep going.

Preverance wins

The rainbow detail, thanks to the (mew) aqua and being sunny :’)

MVP, and the day is saved

Having the Nlue Knight not wanting Ichigo to fight anymore and only protecting her keeps following like the manga, I’ll share my thoughts when the reveal episode is released, to avoid spoilers for non-manga readers.

I loved Ryou’s reaction, as far as they all know, he can’t be trusted, he might be a manipulative character. Altough..... this leave little space to Ichigo wondering his identidy, because RYOU AND KEIICHIRO ARE RIGHT THERE

<3, Ichigo seeing her teammates are evolving, its so sweet

Aoyama ruining the mood XD but after what he witnessned on TV is normal for him to think that way.

I intreperted Ichigo line to what Aoyama said before, she’s not wondering about her relationship with him she said she’s happy being near him, she’s wondering about the planet’s conditions

This reverts back to episode 1, what can she do to protect the planet

I wonder what kind of approach will TMMN take to make Ichigo mind at ease, will it end with the final Mew Aqua, will it continue and develop to A La Mode? If she decides to follow alongside Aoyama’s dream, I hope they give us  a glimpse into A La Mode story.

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 3

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 5.6k

Synopsis: The horse has arrived

Warnings: Death, blood, some gunfights, bit of murder to spice things up, hostages

Blue eyes opened wide as he stared into the darkness that surrounded him, he struck out at the arm that had jostled his shoulder. His mouth opened but before he could utter a sound a gloved hand covered his mouth and another held his shoulder down. It was just enough time for Soap to follow the arm up, staring into Ghost’s eyes for a tense moment before the hand that had been on his shoulder raised to the Lieutenant’s mouth indicating he needed to be quiet. A slow nod communicated his understanding as Ghost removed his hand and backed up. The Scotsman sat up from the couch he had been stretched out on and looked around giving Ghost a confused look. He gestured with a jerk of his chin towards the kitchen which was near the back of the house before he led Soap into the backyard where the Sargeant’s bag had already been laid up against the side of the house.

The Captain looked up as they exited the house and he whispered, “We’ll be together for about thirty minutes and then we’ll break off. Be quiet, there are hostiles all around the city and they cut the power some time this morning so we are in the blind, Laswell doesn’t have access to city’s cameras anymore. Come on.” No one said anything, just grabbed their things and headed for the fence. Soap was the first over as Ghost boosted him, Price doing the same for Gaz beside him. The two Sergeants landed on the other side, night vision goggles pulled down in front of their eyes, scanning the alley carefully before Soap knocked his knuckles against the fence. Gaz and Soap watched either side of the alley as the others climbed the fence. When they had all made it over they split into groups of four with Soap and Ghost both at the back, backpedaling until they left the alley and continued on to the pitch black streets. Not even the moon hung in the sky now, the sliver that had lit the sand up the night before having disappeared completely in its cycle.

The eight men continued into the city together until it was time for Ghost and Soap to split up. They paused between a stand of buildings as Price spoke quickly to them, “Get to your overwatch position. You will be our eyes and ears. Stay frosty team two.”

Ghost nodded once quietly before Soap answered for the both of them, “You too Captain, I think we’ve had enough wrenches in the plan already.”

Price turned back to the main road and glanced over his shoulder as he and Ghost backed up, “You keep us stocked on wrenches Sergeant.” He saw the smirk on Price’s mouth before he leaned forward, “Let’s go, Lanster.”

“Rog,” the simple word came over all of their headsets as the young man leaned forward into the street looking around before leading them all out. Before Price had disappeared around the corner Soap and Ghost were already turned and headed down the alley towards their own objective. The building had been confirmed as a local hub for business matters and with the evacuation of the outer homes it was supposed to be clear of just about all activity. Neither the Sergeant nor the Lieutenant took the intel at its face value though. 

They moved quietly through the door as Ghost opened it. Soap swept the muzzle of the gun around, eyes hyper focused on any movement but there was none. He whispered quietly into the mic, “Clear Lt.'' The skull-faced balaclava entered the door behind him, shutting and locking it as he did. They headed for the stairs, every movement controlled and efficient.

When Ghost lined up on the stairwell door his eyes glanced up to the Sergeant, a confused look in his gaze at the face Soap was making before he asked, “What’s wrong, Sergeant?”

The blue hues moved to look at Ghost as he answered, “There’s going to be so many stairs Lt.” 

An annoyed sigh came from behind the balaclava as Ghost muttered, “Fuckin’ hell Johnny.” The Sergeant sighed and then lifted his gun to his shoulder and nodded to the waiting man. Soap watched the door open and pushed into the stairwell, he froze in his tracks before he tripped and glanced down at his feet before his attention shifted to the stairs, his gun aimed at the levels above just in case.

Two dead bodies laid in front of him, bullet holes littering their chests, a man and a woman’s lifeless eyes looked up at him, the fear of their last moments still on their expressions. He shook his head whispering, “Bloody Jesus Ghost, they were killing their own people too, not just ours.” He stepped over the two and heard a shaky breath come from under the stairs. His gun immediately shifted to the sound, staring into the dark corner before he took another step forward, his finger just above the trigger and ready to fire. He swung around and his gaze shifted to the floor again, a child’s eyes stared up at him. They were round and full of tears, and it wasn’t just because it was likely his parents that were sprawled out on the ground. The boy’s face was pale and he had dark circles around his eyes, glancing down Soap saw his hand holding his chest. The front of his clothes were soaked in red, and his hand that was trying to hold him together was shaking over the wound as he tried to move but couldn’t. “Get in here Ghost, there’s a kid.”

The man clad in his dark hoodie and jeans slipped through the door and closed it behind him before he turned to see what the hell Soap had meant by there was a kid. Sure enough a child was laying in front of the Scotsman who was kneeling now in front of the child. Soap’s hand pulled the boy’s away and he heard a soft groan of pain from him. Ghost looked up the stairs, checking to make sure no one else had been present to hear that before he joined Soap, standing just above his shoulder. The tall man put his hand on Soap’s shoulder lightly as he looked down at the boy, there was no saving him, evac couldn’t get here in time and even if they could he wouldn’t survive being moved. He was already dead, his body just didn’t know it yet. Price’s voice came through the comms then, “Team two this Bravo 0-6 repeat your last.”

Ghost spoke for the Scotsman this time, “We found a kid, he’s alive for now but there’s nothing we can do for him. He’s been here for a couple days looks like.” Soap’s jaw tensed at the statement as he sighed, putting the boy’s hand back on the wound.

“Are you sure nothing can be done?” Price asked, tension evident in his voice.

“Affirmative sir, he wouldn’t survive being moved.” Soap was the one to answer then, as he tried to move the boy towards him before he stopped, the pain written on the kid’s face making it very obvious that he was in fact doomed to die here.

Ghost glanced back up the stairs and gestured with a look, “Come on Johnny, we have to go.”

The Sergeant bit the inside of his cheek before he sat down with the boy. Blood covered his hands now as it did his chest when he moved the boy up into his lap. “Give me a second Ghost, just a couple.” Soap smiled down at the kid, trying to sound as calm and soothing as he could, “It’s ok kid, I don’t know if you can understand English but it’s ok, I promise.” The kid looked up at him, the breaths that had been coming in shaky and shallow evened out. They deepened as he seemed to get that they weren’t here to shoot him again and that they weren’t with those who had killed his parents. Soap smiled as he pointed up to Ghost, “Look at that guy, doesn’t he look silly with that mask?” The boy certainly knew some kind of English because he smiled as well nodding at Soap’s words. The blue eyes looked up to Ghost’s before his hands that had been stroking the kid’s hair and soothing him jerked the boy’s head to the side and up. It was quick, as painless as he could make it. Better than lying on this floor for however many hours it took, or being carried through the streets and given false hope only to die on the way there, sobbing and in pain. A smile was still on his face and Soap looked away as he closed the kid’s eyelids and stood up. “Couldn’t leave knowing he was suffering down here Lt. I’m sorry.”

The big man stared at the Scotsman for a moment, eyes unreadable before he nodded, “If you hadn’t I would’ve. Better than his alternatives. Come on Johnny, let’s go.” Soap had already stood back up, bringing his gun up to his shoulder and nodding at Ghost as he started up the steps ahead of the Lieutenant. They made it to the roof without any other incident, both still imagining that boy lying under the stairs though neither would have admitted it. They both set up their positions, each pulling a spotter scope out of their packs before Ghost spoke, “Team two is in position Bravo 0-6. What’s your status?”

“Copy, hold.” Price went silent for a few seconds before he spoke again, “East side of the building, still in cover. About to make our move to the east entrance. Holding for your all clear.”

Ghost and Soap both looked through the thermal sights on the guns, scanning the building Team One would be entering as well as the open square they had to cross to get there. Soap was the first to call out, “Three hostiles in front of the building, males and armed 0-6. Four more two blocks east of you position and heading north on the street, looks like they have a dog with them so you need to move fast.”

Price spoke to the others in Team One before answering, “Good copy 7-1. Anything on your end Ghost?”

Ghost had been scanning the inside of the building as best he could before he reported in, “Negative sir but be advised the lower levels have fewer and smaller windows. You’ll be clearing blind until you reach the fifth floor.”

“Good copy 0-7, keep us posted if you see anything.” Price went silent as Ghost and Soap both acknowledged Price’s orders and then it started. “Take out the three in front on my mark, 3, 2, 1, execute,” a shot from Ghost and a shot from Soap and one from Team One and the three men outside dropped. That’s when they spotted the six men moving across the street and headed into the building. They entered and everything was essentially out of the snipers hands until they made it to the fifth floor where they exited the stairwell with both Ghost and Soap tracking them. “Anything on your end Team Two?”

“Affirmative sir, five hostiles end of the hall looks like they have three hostages with them,” Ghost answered. He got an acknowledgement from the Captain before he said, “My mark on 3, 2, 1, execute.” The men dropped as Lanster and Powell untied the hostages, pointing for them to leave and to leave fast before they hurried up the stairs behind the rest of Team One. “Multiple hostiles on the eighteenth floor, looks like they’re holding on to something real tight there sir. Probably our target.” 

“Good copy, headed there now,” the six men cleared each floor with the help of the two snipers on overwatch, moving at a steady pace upward through the building. When they made it to the eighteenth floor Team One stopped and Price spoke again, “Let us know when we are clear for entry Bravo 0-7.”

“Affirmative, hold your position,” Soap and Ghost put their attention on either side of the floor glancing to one another as Soap nodded he was ready before Ghost finally said, “You are clear for entry Bravo 0-6. Time to get loud.” The charge on the door blew as soon as Ghost cleared them, it took out the two guards stationed on either side of the door as well as the door itself. Gaz entered first, dropping three men down the hall that Ghost and Soap couldn’t see. Price was the next through the door, shots firing from his gun at men the snipers still couldn’t see. Lanster, Powell, Baris, and Holland were next laying cover fire down as all six men made entry, Holland firing shots at men who were coming from the floors above after hearing the explosion. The dark haired Sergeant held the door with Ghost’s help, firing shots through the opening and dropping a few men running down the stairs before they decided a different approach was probably best. They would come from another direction though, they weren’t giving up.

Ghost was covering the door on the east stairwell as Soap sighted in on the hallway. He watched as several men ran into the same door and shut it as fast as they could. He saw several other heat signatures inside as well before the door closed. “Bravo 0-6 be advised there are several hostiles currently in the room three doors down from your current position. At least ten, I recommend a C4 charge and a flashbang for entry. Target is likely in the room as well.”

“Copy that 7-1, moving forward to the door now. Watch the end of the hall as we make entry.” Price moved forward with Gaz right behind him as well as Lanster, Powell, and Baris.

Soap moved his sights to the end of the hall and answered, “Copy that Captain, you’re cleared for entry.” He dropped two men with back to back shots as they entered the hallway opposite of Holland. He saw the flare of the C4 charge even looking at the end of the hallway as Team One made entry. Soap kept his side locked down, knowing Ghost was doing the same on his end with Holland’s help.

“We have the target, I repeat we have the target. Exiting the room now with him, we are on our way to exfil now Team Two.” Price and the others exited the room quickly, a man was slung over Lanster’s shoulders as he exited and they headed for the stairwell. “Clearing down now, we’re in the home stretch boys.”

“Rog, get outta there old man,” Ghost turned to Soap then, “I’m setting up in sight of the exfil, keep overwatch on them until I have them in sight.” Soap nodded and Ghost moved quickly to set up his second position. 

The Sergeant kept his eyes on the team watching their backs and killing hostiles that were headed for them. He glanced at the plaza outside and said quickly, “Be advised Bravo 0-6 you have ten hostiles outside the building, possibly more.” He started popping heads then, watching as each of the men he could see fell with each of his shots. Soap then said, “All that I can see are dead, but stay frosty Price.”

“Copy that Soap, we’re exiting the building now,” he watched the six men exit and turn back the way they had come. Ghost would be able to see them soon as they headed back down the same roads they had entered on.

A voice sounded over all of their comms then, “Exfil is ten minutes out Bravo 0-6, let’s make this a clean cut operation yeah?” 

“Affirmative,” Price said immediately as the six men wound their way through the streets. As they left Soap’s sight he moved to where Ghost had already set up and was helping to cover their escape. The two snipers saw the incoming trucks as Team One made it back to the neighborhood they were exfilling from and watched as the target was loaded and the team climbed in. Then they were heading out, their extraction had been successful, another job well done. “We are extracting now Team Two, you are free to make your way to your primary extraction point.”

Ghost and Soap pulled their rifles down off the ledge and sat back, packing the rifles up and securing them on their packs. “Copy that Price, see you in a couple days,” Ghost glanced at Soap then with a deep breath before switching his comms off and waiting for the Scotsman to do the same. “Good job, Johnny. We should move though, come on.”

Blue eyes narrowed at Ghost before he said accusingly, “You turned your comm off so no one would hear you say I did a good job didn’t you? I can’t believe you.” Again he saw the movement of Ghost’s mouth that looked like he was smiling under his balaclava though he refused to confirm or deny the accusation. The Scotsman stood up following Ghost to the roof entrance and followed him down the thirty flights of stairs and out a side entrance of the building. Neither man looked at the bodies that littered the floor and the stairwell nor did they comment on it. There was no reason to pay attention and nothing they could do to help now, paying attention to it would only serve to worsen their already fragile mental states. Everything was packed behind the wall of their mind, sealed off with every atrocity they experienced. It was a thin line to walk though sealing those thoughts behind those many layers. A delicate balance in their minds that kept them sane even dealing with everything they had to experience.

Soap and Ghost turned their comms on as they left the building, they were outside the range of the team comms now, the only people who would hear them were each other now. “Hey Johnny,” he was surprised it was Ghost that broke the silence between them but he gave a grunt of acknowledgement quickly to let him know he was listening. “When does a joke become a dad joke?”

The Sergeant glanced at Ghost before asking, “I don’t know, when Lt.?”

“When it leaves you and never comes back,” eyes glanced at him as they walked quietly through the darkened streets to find Soap’s face barely holding back a laugh and struggling to suppress his smile as well. Ghost nodded slowly and he knew the Lieutenant was proud of himself at catching Soap off his guard with a pun. A terrible time for it really, but it just made it all the more funny. They made it fifteen blocks before Ghost checked his watch and led them inside a dark building. They went up to the second floor, clearing the building with quiet efficiency before they locked themselves into a room on the second floor and shed their gear. Their voices were quiet whispers in the silent city knowing that in about thirty minutes it would be coming to life around them, “I’ll take first watch Johnny, get some sleep.”

“Sounds good, Ghost. You want an MRE?” Soap dug in his pack for one of the good ones before pulling out another and handing Ghost the better of the two. The big man stared at it for a second before finally taking it and casting a weird look Soap’s way, he honestly had no idea what it meant.

“Thanks Johnny,” the Lieutenant turned his back to Soap before he lifted his mask. Soap watched for a second before he too turned his back and leaned back against the other man’s back as they held one another up. He listened in silence as Ghost ate, finding he enjoyed the quiet inhales and exhales of the man leaning into him now.

Soap finished his MRE before he spoke with a smirk on his face, “Hey Lt. Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?”

The silence lasted a few seconds before Ghost asked, “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Ghost gave a soft chuckle and he felt the man nod his approval before he too finished his MRE and pulled his mask back down. “Good one.”

“I try my best Lt.” They sat quietly for a few minutes as the sun rose outside the shaded window. Without saying so they moved apart at the same time, Ghost finding a place to sit near the door that separated them from a city full of armed men and dead bodies. Soap settled on his pack using it as a pillow as he laid down. He had learned early to sleep whenever and wherever so the Sergeant was out within a few minutes.

It felt like no time at all when Ghost woke him with a light hand on his shoulder. Soap looked up at the skull-faced balaclava for the third time in as many days and gave him a tired smile, “My turn already?” The Lieutenant nodded and Soap sat up stretching his still tired muscles that were aching from his thirty kilometer marathon however many hours ago that was. The sun was high in the sky now and when Soap looked at Ghost he could see the redness of the man’s eyes, “Alright Lt. get some sleep, you deserve it.” A tired grunt was the only response he got as Ghost laid on the ground just below the window. He held his pack against his chest like it was a stuffed animal or something. Soap watched as he slid into sleep easily, mouth turning up at the corners.

That was how he spent his entire day, staring at the Lieutenant as he turned over a few times, the pack pulled to his chest. A thought crossed his mind as he considered what it might be like to take that pack’s place. He struck it from his mind as soon as it came though, it was no secret Ghost didn’t exactly like him. The big man merely tolerated his presence because on occasion he had proven to be useful. Most of the time it didn’t bother him, he was comedic relief for his team and he knew that, but when he was sitting quietly without anything for his hands and mind to focus on he started overthinking. It was a curse. Maybe he should bring something to do next time. A rubik’s cube maybe? That might be nice. Thankfully the sun started going down and Soap woke the Lieutenant. The wild look in his eyes set him on edge at first until Ghost looked around the room and the tension in his shoulders relaxed and he pushed himself up to sit.

As the sun sank below the horizon the two ate quietly, preparing themselves for a run in the desert. They had a day and a half to make it to their extraction point and neither wanted to face the repercussions for missing that deadline. Soap stood, lifting the curtain of cloth that hung over the window looking around. As the sun set, the lights of the city suddenly flashed on. The Sergeant pulled back some from the window then, “Fuckin hell, the lights are back on Ghost. They either know we’re here still or they have no clue and think they’re safe. I don’t like it either way.”

Ghost moved to kneel beside Soap as both looked out, people still milled about the streets heading to wherever they were supposed to go before the curfew set in. “Damn…” Ghost eyed the streets and he could see the thoughts working behind his eyes before he shook his head, “We’re not changing our timeline. Come on, we gotta go.”

Soap grabbed his stuff and the two left the building as fast as they could. They set off onto the street, avoiding patrols with perfect timing and luck. They were three blocks from being home free in the open desert. As they neared the corner of the alley they had been moving through, Ghost peeked out while Soap was on a knee behind him watching where they had come from. “Fuck…”

Soap didn’t turn around but asked quickly, “What’s wrong now?”

The silence that followed his question had Soap’s nerves on end, his mind wondering if they were about to be in a fight or flight situation. Finally Ghost answered, “I know him, he’s ex-KSK.”

“German special forces? What the fuck are they doing here?” Soap glanced over his shoulder at Ghost who was still watching around the corner.

“I said ex-KSK Soap. He hasn’t been on their payroll for a few years now.” Ghost waved him forward and the Scotsman moved up to look around the corner. Two men lay dead on the pavement, another kneeled with a sack over his head and his hands tied behind his back. The last was currently taking punches to the face and stomach, before they threw him to the ground. One of the men pointed a gun at the back of the hooded one’s head, looking back to the one Ghost had been talking about.

The man’s voice was loud, malice dripping from every word, “You have one more chance to answer me, don’t get the question wrong this time. Where are the men who took Suheil?”

The man who had been getting the shit beat out of him not five seconds ago stayed quiet for a few seconds before he shook his head. “I told you! I don’t know! I don’t know what men you’re talking about, I don’t know who the fuck Suheil is, and I don’t know where those men are! We've been here for months, listen to me! I-DON’T-KNOW! You want me to tell it to you in German? Ich weiß nicht!” The man with the gun stared hard at the other for a few seconds, head tilting slightly before he pulled the trigger. He never even turned to look at the man, just pulled the trigger and let his body slump to the ground lifeless. “Schweinehund! Fick dich! I don’t know anything!” 

Before Soap or Ghost even knew what was happening the man turned his pistol on the large man knelt in front of him now and pulled the trigger. “Die in the dirt like the dog you are. Know that we will get Suheil back with or without you.” The men with the gun left the large man as he slid slowly to the dirt.

Soap looked up at Ghost from where he was knelt, meeting his eyes for a moment before Ghost shook his head, “We have to go. He’s dead already.” A few more seconds of Soap staring and Ghost tried again, “You’ll get us killed Johnny, we have to go.”

“Not gonna happen Lt. We couldn’t save that kid, we can save him though.” Soap looked back out at the street, the man had pulled himself to the wall of a building and before Ghost could physically stop him Soap took off across the street.

“Damnit Johnny!” He heard Ghost as the man trailed behind him. As they neared the ex-KSK looked up with wide eyes at the both of them shuffling backwards as best he could with a gunshot wound and his hands tied. “Konig,” Ghost said quietly as he looked around, “Long time no see.” The large man on the ground tilted his head a bit before his eyes blinked a couple times and his body lurched forward slowly. Soap was there though, keeping him from hitting the ground and laying him down. “Hurry the fuck up Johnny,” the tension was palpable now as they were much too far out in the open.

“I’m working on it, Ghost,” Soap muttered under his breath as he lifted the man’s tattered shirt to find the entry wound. It was a rather terrible shot, Konig would have died without them sure, but it was unlikely to happen now with first aid so readily available. It was exactly like the shot on the kid from the stairwell, meant to let you suffer for as long as possible. Soap didn’t have much time to think about that though, not here, so he bandaged the wound quickly and slung the man over his shoulders. His eyes bugged at the weight for a moment before he nodded to Ghost, “Let’s go.” Neither wasted any more time on words as they took off down the street back to their original course.

They were in the open desert well before daybreak and as the sun began to rise they decided not to stop. They continued through the early morning, eventually Soap handing his bag over to Ghost as they jogged. The Lieutenant flat out refused to take any part in the saving of the German. Ghost had said he knew him, never had he said he liked him. They finally stopped as the sun was nearing midday, it was much too hot to keep going now, so they took shelter in a rocky outcrop. Konig had woken up a few times on the trek there, but had quickly lost consciousness again each time. He was still losing blood but at least it was slow, but Ghost had refused to stop so close to the city and Soap couldn’t exactly make him. He had already stretched his luck thin with the man and Ghost didn’t look like he was in a very forgiving mood, especially not in this heat.

He laid the large man down, pulling his medkit out of his pack as he did. He felt Ghost’s eyes drilling into his back as he lifted Konig’s shirt and pulled the bandage from earlier off. Blood leaked down the sweaty muscle but at least it was slow. Everything was quiet as Soap grabbed an injector from the kit, he slotted in a shot of morphine and shot the big man up with it watching as his face relaxed from the twisted sort of pain. He grabbed another injector then and muttered quietly, “Here’s hoping you aren’t allergic to anything big guy.” Soap watched as the antibiotic slid into the man’s body. The Scotsman didn’t dare move, as if doing so would set off the reaction he so desperately feared, but after a minute went by without any problems he took in a deep breath and nodded, “Hell yeah.” He heard a low grunt from Ghost but when he turned the masked man had his back to them, ignoring Soap completely for the first time since he had saved him a seat on that plane before all that shit went down with Graves. He shook his head, he didn’t have the time nor the energy to figure out what his problem was right now, he had just carried a man on his back through the desert he didn’t feel like handling all of the bullshit.

Soap instead put his mind to carefully bandaging and wrapping the wound, careful not to run the wrapping over the bruises on his abdomen from the men who had beaten him. He had given him morphine yeah, but eventually it would wear off and they didn’t have enough to give him a steady supply. Konig remained steadily asleep through the whole process, eyes closed and face wincing every now and then but Soap didn’t really think that was a physical pain, probably more of a mental one. He taped the wrapping off and glanced across the well formed physique as he pulled Konig’s shirt down. Ghost growled again, and again Soap looked over to see the Lieutenant’s back staring at him, “You ok Lt.?” Ghost glanced over his shoulder at Soap and rather than speak he merely nodded. Soap watched for a second as Ghost’s shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. “Are you sure, Ghost? You look…angry?” It came out as a question but it wasn’t, he was just not sure how he knew it was anger. Ghost growling was nothing new but it was the way he sat and ignored, refused to turn around, it just gave off angry vibes.

“I’m fine, MacTavish.” A dark eyebrow raised at the use of his last name. It was Ghost’s turn to feel a hard stare on his back and feel it he did because it was the only reason he turned around to look at him. “You could have gotten yourself killed helping him Soap, you don’t even know him.”

The Sergeant glanced down at Konig then shrugged, “You do though.”

“I never said I liked him enough for you to risk your life for him,” the tall man shot back immediately.

Another shrug from Soap drew an angry glare from the eyeholes of the balaclava. “He needed help. We went into that mission to take a man who had already slaughtered half of the citizens in that city. I wanted to actually help someone, and we couldn’t help that kid Ghost. I killed a child, a little boy whose only crime was being born in the wrong country, and this guy, Konig, was about to take the fall for something we did. I wanted to help Ghost, so I did.” They stared hard at one another, neither one accepting defeat in their stance on the matter.

They looked away at the same moment, Soap turning back to Konig as he set himself up with a place to sleep and Ghost looking out from their spot in the rocks. The Sergeant laid down then, his mind beginning to slip until he heard Ghost’s voice, “You did good Johnny.” Soap didn’t move and neither did Ghost but the Scotsman smiled a bit at the praise before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off.