#joe cooper thoughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

semischarmed · 11 months ago

Text

Thread

Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.

= = = = =

The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane.

Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability.

I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle.

I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.

- - - -

I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative.

Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded.

And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.

I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.

— - - - - -

“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.

“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.

“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.

I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”

I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.

“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”

He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch.

“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times.

Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.

“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man.

I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”

I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”

A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.

With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.

The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.

“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.

= = = = =

When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned.

Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”

I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.

“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe.

“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.

“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.

I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.

Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.

“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.”

“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“

“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.

Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.

“Joey- who is that?”

I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.

I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths.

“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.

“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.

Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder.

I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.

I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.

With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat.

I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”

Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock.

What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.

Just my luck.

Charlie.

= = = = =

A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.

#male puppet #male corruption

446 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

Text

with me + part seventeen

authors note: hi! this one isn't as long as some of the most recent, but it is fluffy! well, for the most part. next one will probably be a lil longer and def not as fluffy.....

also, ya'll fake asf for not telling me i put 'simone' as reader sister's name when it's 'bianca' at the end of the last update. i may or may not watch crime docs sometimes while writing......

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 5k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @msbigredmachine @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

You don’t typically get nervous.

It’s just not a trademark of your personality, but for this….for this, there’s definitely a fair amount of trepidation. For one, outside of the fact that most of your favorite outfits suddenly seem too unflattering or fit a bit too snug. For two, you can’t seem to get your hair to cooperate with the same updo you’ve done since you were in your teens.

Not to mention the fact that you were so in your head about this damn lunch during your shower that you weren’t paying close enough attention as you were shaving down there and nicked yourself. On a fucking lip of all things. So now you walk with a bit of limp because that fucking cut keeps brushing, burning, against your underwear.

Truthfully, all of this just feels like a sign that you shouldn’t be doing this. That you should text Bianca some excuse as to why you can’t make it to lunch.

But, it’s the image of Callie’s sweet, smiling face and ardent excitement as you told her Bianca was coming in town and bringing Taylor that you realize you can’t do that to her. She’s so excited about seeing and playing with Taylor again that it feels almost cruel to take that away from her.

So pushing aside your injured pussy lip, crooked bun, and unflattering outfit, you do what needs to be done for the sake of your daughter.

And yourself, really.

Of course, you got Callie ready before yourself, as she’s much much easier. So, it’s nothing to grab her once you’re done overthinking to head out and go. But not before snapping a selfie of the two of you and sending it to your close friends story and Joe. Cause God forbid this man learns what Stories are and how they work.

You may not be thrilled with your appearance, but Callie is just too cute to not photograph.

You two arrive at the restaurant before Bianca and Taylor, which you’re mostly grateful for. It allows you to work through the remnants of your anxiety and catch up on a few texts. The first thing you have to reply to though is Joe who texts you in response to your snap.

Joe: Why does it go away so fast?

Joe: Just text me the photo.

His messages make you laugh aloud, forcing you to smack your hand over your mouth not to draw attention to yourself. Joe’s paltry skills with social media, or just Snapchat, really is both comical and sad as hell.

You shake your head, typing out your reply.

You: babe, how many times do i have to tell you? just screenshot!

Joe: That’s too much work.

Laughing again, you see Callie briefly look your way before she focuses her attention back onto her tablet. She’s been using it a bit more often than you’d like, but considering everything ya’ll have been through the past couple weeks, it’s hard to put limits there.

It is something to be mindful of though.

Hell, maybe she can help her dad learn a thing or two about how to work technology.

You: i’m signing you up for some type of tech class or shit for your birthday, cause this is ridiculous. 🥴

Joe: Lol.

A thought then crosses your mind as you shoot him another text.

You: what do you want for your birthday, btw?

You: and remember, only one of us is rich. 🙃

Back when you and Joe were dating, the most he’d get from you is a birthday text or maybe some baked goods if he happened to be visiting near the time of his birthday. But, this is obviously very different. You’re now in a committed relationship, about to move in together to raise your daughter.

And with all Joe has done for you these past months, both financially and emotionally, it would be almost criminal to not get him something.

Of course, you also know that your man is just about as stubborn as you are, hence your expectation that he’ll simply say nothing or find some bullshit reason why you shouldn’t or don’t need to.

If only you actually planned to listen to him.

And it’s also only March, giving you like two months to wear him down into just accepting your gratitude.

Joe: Just say yes when I ask.

Reading his message makes you frown, your nose turned up in confusion. What is he talking about?

Joe: That’s all I need. All I want.

He’s successful in providing a nice distraction, sure, but this man is also confounding the fuck out of you. He’s always on some elusive, coy bullshit.

You: what? what kind of man code speak shit is that? yes? yes to what? anal?

You: we been over that shit. you’re too big. i’m down for anything but that.

Then again, Joe does have an uncanny ability to make anything feel good. And comparing a sexual experience with Amir to Joe is literally fucking apples and oranges. Much like his wrestling persona, Joe is on some ‘god mode’ type shit when it comes to sex.

Joe: Shut up. You’re gonna make me hard in this fuckin meeting thinking bout that pussy….

Naturally, you angle your body away from Callie a bit to ensure she has absolutely no way to see your phone, to see that message that has you pressing your thighs together. It’s definitely been too long since you’ve had him inside you, and him being nasty right now isn’t helping that.

You: stop being nasty, please. callie is literally sitting next to me, and i don’t feel like soaking my panties.

You don't need your daughter knowing her parents are freaks.

You: i’ll see about when’s the next time we can come visit though 👀

Joe is hella deep in WrestleMania season, so it’s virtually impossible for him to get away, hence you needing to be the one to take her to go see him. Granted, you’re also busy as hell, trying to wrap up things at home, gradually transitioning to the house in Florida.

The house that you and Joe now officially own, because true to his word, as always, your name is on everything. You attended the signing with him which made it official. It’s also when you got to see just how much Joe spent on said house, the number nearly making you pass out in your seat.

Even more, to speed up the process and ensure you could move in much sooner than what’s typical when buying a house, he paid over the asking price.

Cash.

It’s most definitely not possible to love this man more than you already do.

He follows up with another text shortly after, respectfully changing the subject in a way that makes you smile warmly.

Joe: Don’t be nervous.

It’s a bit unreal how good he is at reading you, even through texts.

You: lmao how’d ya know?

Joe: Cause I know you.

Joe: You two already connected before you even realized who she was. Lean into that. Try to take your father out of the equation. This is about you and her. Not him.

Reading over Joe’s message once, twice, three times really does something to help your anxiety. He’s right. If you had never even known who Bianca really is, you guys would probably be even closer now, chatting it up frequently. There’s so much more potential there than there is danger.

You: thank you….i love you ❤️

Joe: Love you too, baby. Text me when ya’ll finish.

Switching threads, you send out a few more texts and work out a date and time with Kaylah for her to accompany you and Alexis furniture shopping when Callie’s sweet, excited voice pulls you from your phone.

“Taylor!” Callie swiftly pushes her tablet to the side and climbs off the bench you two were waiting on when she sees Taylor’s smiling face.

“Callie!”

It’s with an absolutely full heart you watch the two run to meet each other for a big hug, embracing like they’ve known each other for years.

Like they’re family.

“Hey….”

Your attention switches to Bianca who’s standing just a few feet away from you, clearly torn on whether to offer her hand, initiate a hug, or what.

Remembering Joe’s words of wisdom, you take a deep breath and hug her. “Hi, Bianca.”

You can literally feel the anxiety melt off of the both of you as you pull back and see she has unshed tears in her eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

You’re able to offer a smile, a genuine one too, especially as you glance over at the girls who are now sitting on the bench, looking and talking over Callie’s tablet. “I think it’s worth it just for that alone.”

Bianca looks and laughs. “She’s been asking about Callie.”

That dims your smile a bit, a strange sort of sadness. “Callie has been asking about her too.” You feel bad depriving the girls of seeing each other, scheduling out this meeting so far in advance, but it wasn’t entirely of your choosing.

The past three weeks since you found out Joe literally bought a house for three of ya’ll has been filled with nothing but preparing for the move. Working as much as you can, trying to transition your students as best as possible. Trying to figure out who to hire to move you all, flights back and forth from your town to Florida as you work on things for the house like getting the lights and water turned on and in your and Joe’s name.

Just a lot of shit.

So while you weren’t itching to pencil this in ASAP, you also would have been okay if it happened a bit sooner and closer to when you finally responded to Bianca’s text.

The four of you are escorted and seated in the restaurant, you and Bianca having Callie and Taylor sit in the booth across from you.

This isn’t a conversation they need to overhear, not that they’d want to. They’re in their own little world.

After ordering and making small talk over your meals, Bianca is the one to make the first move. “I guess it’d be remiss of me to not start off with the big elephant in the room.”

There’s an unfamiliar sense of anxiety that starts to stir in your stomach, but you push it away, joking, “just one? I think we have a couple.”

She laughs and then starts off with, “I remember that day, you know.” Your confusion must show because she adds with an almost gentleness. “That day in the police station.”

And the anxiety is back, your eyes dropping to the plate of food as you try your best to keep your shit together. “Oh…that.”

“This probably sounds crazy, but….there was something about you that seemed familiar almost. But when I asked dad who you were….well…..”

“What did he say?” A part of you wants to know, but a large part of you doesn’t. So whether she answers or not, both are okay with you.

There’s clear hesitation but she still answers, nonetheless. “He just said you were a troubled teen.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Typical. That man is bottom of the barrel trash, and if not for Bianca probably thinking decently of him, you’d say as such. “Of course he did.”

“When I first asked him about you, he lied. He said he had no idea who you were, but I refused to let it go because…..because I could see the hurt in your eyes that night. I knew there was a story there, and I wasn’t going to give up until he came clean. And when he did…..” She shakes her head, tapping her fork against her plate. “We haven’t spoken since.”

That surprises you. You’d take a guess that Bianca and that man were close, or at least semi-close, so the fact that they haven’t spoken…..you feel bad. Not for him. Fuck him. But for her. “Bianca, regardless of what happened between me and….him…that shouldn’t get in the way—”

“I always wanted a sister, Y/N,” she interrupts, and you can hear the emotion arriving in her voice. “I begged my parents for years when I was a kid for them to give me a sister. And he knew. They both knew about you. They knew about you, and they kept us away from each other. He kept us away from each other.” She angrily wipes at her eyes. “I–I don’t know how to forgive that.”

Her emotions and feelings are valid. You feel the same way just for slightly different reasons, though forgiveness isn’t even something you’ve thought about. There is no forgiving that man for what he did.

But, just because that’s your story doesn’t mean it has to be Bianca’s.

“You need time to sort through it all,” is the best guidance you can give her. Anything more would be the emotionally blind leading the emotionally blind. “The same way I needed time before reaching out to you.”

She nods, sitting on your words. “And I really do appreciate you giving this a chance, Y/N.”

You’re starting to as well, but before things can move forward, you feel the need to set some ground rules. “I’m open to this….to getting to know you more, to letting the girls continue to know each other more, but…..I have a stipulation.”

Bianca swallows. “I’m listening.”

“Anything I share with you regarding myself and my family, I need it to stay between you and me. Your husband is fine, but your parents and brother…..I don’t want them knowing anything about me and especially my daughter.” Fingers nervously tapping against the table, you disclose, “I just had a really messed up situation happen that I’m still trying to fully process, so I’m even more protective of Callie and myself at this point in my life. And I like you, Bianca, but this isn’t something I can compromise on.”

“And you shouldn’t.” Her initial response surprises you a bit. A part of you was worried she’d try to convince you that you should at least be open to the possibility of getting to know the rest of the family. But given she’s not even speaking to her parents right now, your stipulation must not be a hard sell. “I completely understand, and I’ll respect your wishes. It’s probably better this way, actually.”

Her agreeing and being respectful really means a lot to you, and you express as such. “Thank you, Bianca.”

Her smile is warm and welcoming as the both of you happen to glance over at the girls at the exact same time while they’re in the midst of a giggle fest. It makes you laugh as she asks, “so, you mentioned something about moving?”

“Yeah, umm, we’re moving to Florida with Callie’s dad.” For a brief second, you second guess telling her this information. Second guess how much you want to disclose. But, you decide that if Bianca is willing to meet you halfway, you need to do the same.

“Seriously?” you nod. “You know we live in Florida too, right?”

Yes and no. You remember Bianca telling you she lived further down South, but it isn’t until this very moment that you recall Bianca lives in Florida. You ask where and realize she’ll only be about 45 minutes out from your house.

Callie and Taylor are going to love this.

“So…..” She starts off, facial expression giving away that she has a question she’s burning to ask but is trying her best to keep to herself. “Callie’s dad…..”

Instantly, you’re laughing. It’s comical seeing her try so hard to be respectful. “You wanna know how we met.”

She releases a heavy sigh, planting both hands on the table. “Girl, you cannot just have Roman freaking Reigns fine ass be your man and daughter’s father and not expect me to ask.” Your laughter increases as she adds on, “respectfully, of course. I’m happily married. But, I still have eyes.”

Fair. Very fucking fair. “It’s….a bit of a complicated story.”

She darts her eyes over to the girls who seem like they’re still only in the first stages of play. “I think we have time.”

She’s not wrong.

Leaning a bit closer to her, extra mindful of your volume, you start of this wild yet epic love story. “So it all started at a Smackdown show….”

—------

“Alexis, why the hell is your mugshot your instagram profile pic?”

It’s a question you never thought would leave your mouth, nor something you thought you’d ever see.

You still feel bad about that, about Alexis getting arrested for assaulting Mariah. Granted, it’s obvious Alexis doesn’t. Not one bit. She’s said as such to you, that she would do it all over again, arrest and all.

And it does help, slightly, that just as she predicted, the DA chose not to pursue the case on the grounds of lack of evidence. How much of that was Alexis being rich working in her favor vs there not being enough concrete evidence to sustain a case is beyond you. Regardless, you’re just happy she’s not in any major legal trouble because of you.

She looks over and flips her recent sew–in over her shoulder. “I look cute.”

She’s not entirely wrong, but Alexis looking amazing at any point and time isn’t a hard thing in general considering she’s naturally fucking gorgeous. “It’s a mugshot, Alexis.”

“And? Booking or not, I look cute.” You can see her observing some of the living room sets you two pass while making your way back to Kaylah and Callie from your bathroom break. Your bladder has been freaking irritating, with you needing to pee more than usual. And of course, Alexis couldn’t turn down an opportunity to snap bathroom selfies. “What about this?”

Sliding your phone back in your purse, you see it’s a bedroom set, immediately reminding, “I’m waiting for Joe, Lex.”

“Girl, isn’t WrestleMania in like three weeks? You can’t wait that long to get a damn bed.” Before you can protest, she lifts an acrylic stiletto nail to silence you. “How you gonna be sleeping in a million dollar house on a damn air mattress, Y/N? You suck at this rich bitch shit.”

“I’ll be fine. We just need to get Callie something today. That’s the priority.” And it’s the truth. Callie having at least the essentials in her room is why you’re perusing this fancy ass furniture store in the first place. “As long as my baby is good, I’m good.”

“Whatever, but do you at least like it?” Her question is valid, so you observe the bedroom set. It’s a seven piece, dark wood, silver accents. “It is nice. Looks like something for a man too.”

That’s the thing though. You feel a bit wrong buying a bedroom set that’s for two people when only one is present. Joe made it clear he’s cool with whatever you get, but considering he’s paying for it, he should have a say.

Alexis then points out. “It even includes a full body mirror that way ya’ll can watch yourselves fucking.”

“Alexis!”

“What?” She smacks her teeth, hand on her hip. “Is it a lie?”

Your mouth opens and immediately snaps shut. She’s right. It’s not a lie. Joe loves making you watch him fuck you, finger you, eat you out. You name it. And it’s not like you object either….

But, that doesn’t mean you need it pointed out in a damn furniture store.

“Let’s just get back to Callie,” you murmur, certain that your cheeks are tinged red. Thank black Jesus for melanin to hide embarrassment in moments like this.

Callie spots you before you can even catch her attention. “Mommy!” She runs over, taking your hand as she guides you over to a display. “Look!” Immediately, you can understand why she wants you to see it.

It literally looks like something out of HGTV magazine. White bedroom pieces adorned with pinks, purples, yellows. All of Callie’s favorite colors. The bed is actually a bunk bed that’s designed like a castle, the larger bed on the bottom and the spiral staircase leading up to the second bed a bit smaller.

It’s so excessive and so Callie.

Kaylah comes beside you with a knowing smirk. “I think she’s found the one.”

“Can I get it mommy, please!” Callie is peering up at you with those big brown eyes, holding onto your legs. “We can ask daddy!”

That last part makes you chuckle. You already know that man would have his card out by now, signing for the transaction. Whatever she wants, he makes it happen.

You do ask though, looking for a price tag or something. You know it’s gotta cost a pretty penny with how excessive and grandiose it is. “How much is it…..”

“Who cares?” Alexis suddenly sounds, walking over with an annoyed expression. “You know Joe is good for it. Time to pull out one of those fancy new cards he got for you.”

She’s referring to the new set of debit and credit cards in your wallet, all the result of Joe adding you on as an authorized user on all of his accounts. For some reason, you’ve hesitated to actually use any of them, regardless of the fact that all of the shopping you need to do is for the house you’re all living in together.

Kaylah gently bumps into your side. “You already know what he’d say.”

His deep voice is in your ear as if he’s standing beside you. My little girl gets what she wants.

“Girl, he’d be at the register by now.” You laugh, looking down and bopping Callie’s nose. “Daddy already said you can get whatever you want, Callie Bear” Wanting to be sure, you lean down, asking, “is this really the one you want?”

“Yes!” She cheers, jumping up and down and hugging you. “Mommy! I’m gonna be a princess!”

Rubbing her cheek, you lean over to kiss her forehead. She’s not entirely wrong. Especially when she sees the surprise Joe is working on for her new bedroom.

Feeling slightly ganged up on but also content with making a purchase that will make your little girl happy, you stand up, announcing, “then let’s get it for you, baby.” Callie continues to celebrate at the pending purchase of her new bedroom set as you grab your phone to check the time. The OB-GYN happened to have a cancellation today, which works perfectly cause the initial appointment they gave you wasn’t until the end of April. So, you snatched it up. “Come on, let’s go use one these fancy new cards.”

Alexis nods with such pride, giving a fist pump and high five to Callie after Kaylah does the same. “Let’s fuc—”

“Alexis!”

—---------

After purchasing and arranging an expedited delivery date for Callie’s new bedroom set, the three of you head back over to the new house. Kaylah leaves shortly after, needing to go pick Ellie up from school.

But Alexis stays and keeps Callie company while you shower and get ready for your appointment. Callie asks if she can come with you, and you explain that you’ll come right back home after, which seems to somewhat settle her. But, you can tell she still doesn’t like the answer.

It’s something you make a mental note to discuss with Joe.

She’s been asking a lot of questions like ‘when are you coming back,’ and ‘can i come with you?’.

You’ve noticed an increase in her separation anxiety since the whole DCFS nightmare. Not that you can blame her. You also have a small amount of anxiety any time you have to “leave” her, a brief irrational thought that they could take her away from you again.

Yeah….definitely something to discuss with Joe.

The doctor’s office is only about a 15 minute drive from the house, which is super nice and the office atmosphere is automatically welcoming. Right off the bat, you feel comfortable. Approaching the receptionist who offers a kind smile, you provide your first and last name, explaining you’re here for a new patient appointment.

She types on the computer, asking in a kind voice, “were you able to fill out the paperwork?”

“Uhhh, no, I’m sorry. We’re in the process of trying to move here, so I’ve been back and forth, and it just slipped my mind.” You’re probably offering more information than what’s necessary, but as someone who gets heavily annoyed when people don’t follow through on tasks, you can understand if there’s irritation on her part. “But, I came a little early to see if I can just fill it out now?”

“Of course, honey.” Her voice is honey sweet as she rolls in her chair, grabbing a clipboard that has paperwork attached. Handing it to you, she explains, “just answer as best you can and be sure to signature and initial when it asks for either. If you don’t finish by the time they call you back, don’t worry about it. You can finish it with the nurse.”

“Thank you so much.” As she hands you back your drivers license and insurance card, you place both back in your wallet and find an empty seat in the waiting area. Using the pen attached, you start to complete the paperwork, unsurprised by how thick the packet is. Specialty doctors typically have a lot of information they need. Unfortunately, some of it requires you to pull up your phone to log into your MyChart. This makes the process take even longer, so much so that you’re only about halfway done when an older black woman, probably around your mom’s age, calls you back.

Seeing so much melanin instantly puts you at so much ease. You can see why Kaylah highly recommended this practice. You haven’t even met the doctor yet, and you’re already sold.

The nurse, Helen, as she introduced herself makes nice pleasantries with you as she takes your blood pressure before directing you to stand on the scale.

It’s one thing to suspect that you’ve gained weight but another to actually have it confirmed. And that’s exactly what the scale does.

It’s nothing major, but definitely something to monitor. You’ve never been super anal about your weight, but you also know you have to keep an eye on it, to some extent.

Helen takes the incomplete paperwork from you, kindly explaining that she can just take the information from you verbally as she types it into the system. You’re grateful because your hand is already cramping.

Her questions are mostly easy, some requiring you to use the MyChart as well as dig deep into your long-term memory to retrieve those long forgotten tidbits of information.

But, it’s one question in particular that changes everything.

“And what was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

Naturally, you unlock your phone again to open Flo, but your finger is hovering over the pink icon when it slams into you. A whirlwind of little things that create a much bigger, life changing picture.

Nausea. Vomiting. Emotionality. Breast tenderness. Weight gain. Frequent urination.

No cycle.

“Oh my god…..” Your phone drops in your lap as you bring your hands to cover your mouth, eyes wide and focused on nothing in particular. “Oh…..” How you didn’t put the pieces together much sooner is a bit beyond you. A large chunk of it, you’d guess, was because you chalked it all up to the high stress you’ve been under the past few months. Many people would react the way you did, but this isn’t just that.

It’s more.

So much more.

Helen is suddenly crouched in front of you, hand on your knee. “Is everything alright, baby?”

Watery eyes snapping to her, you nod fervently, starting to wipe at the tears that have already started to spill. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just—” You get choked up, releasing a perfect mixture of a sob and laugh. “The last time I was in this position, I sat in my doctor’s office bawling my eyes out because I was so scared and nervous and just not in a good place mentally. But now…..” It’s hard for you to fully explain all of the wonderful emotions coursing through your body. “I’m doing the same thing but for entirely different reasons.” Your hand goes to your stomach as you look up and tell her with the happiest voice. “I’m pregnant.”

————

It’ll take a couple days for the results of your pregnancy test to come back, as explained by Dr. Young, whom you already love and trust to assist you through your pregnancy.

But, you don’t need test results to confirm what you already know.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that you’re pregnant, and that thought alone is enough to bring you to tears. It’s why you’ve been sitting in your car for almost half an hour just crying. Tears of joy, of course.

The first and only thing you want to do is call Joe. You want to tell him with everything in you.

But…..

You can’t.

Not yet anyway.

He was deprived of so much with Callie, lost out on so many special moments. You can’t do the same with this pregnancy. You need to make this as special for him as possible, from the moment he finds out to the moment he holds this new baby for the first time.

It’s why you know that you can’t tell a soul. Not Alexis. Not your mom. Not even Callie.

Joe was the last to find out before, but he’ll damn sure be the first to find out this time.

It’s also why you make the somewhat difficult to keep Callie out of the loop too. A part of you thinks it could be sweet to have her help you break the news to him, but you also don’t want to deprive him of telling Callie with you.

So, you decide that this has to be a solo venture.

The first thing you need to figure out is the timeline. Figure out when you can go see Joe to tell him in person, because with WrestleMania right around the corner, there’s no way he’ll be back here before then. You and Dr. Young predict you’re about 10 weeks along, which means you’ll be hitting three months in less than a month. That works out good, because you were about four months pregnant with Callie before you started showing, so there’s some grace there.

Granted, it is a little odd that you’ve already gained the amount of weight you have given you’re not even three months along…..

The phone ringing pulls you from your thoughts. The ringtone tells you it’s Alexis before you even look at the phone.

It takes a second for you to gather yourself, knowing her perceptive ass will pick up on something right away if you don’t. Three deep breaths help you to feel adequately prepared before you hit answer. “Hey girl. I’m on my—”

“I swear to God, Y/N, I’m literally going to kill that bitch! I don’t even fucking care anymore! I’m going to prison!”

You’re used to Alexis being dramatic and over the top, but there’s an unfamiliar level of alarm in her voice. “Lex, wait, slow down. What are you talking about?”

She pauses on the other end of the phone. “Fuck. You don’t know yet, do you?” She curses. "Damn, I figured you did by now, considering my phone has been going off with notifications from all the major news outlets the past hour."

Your throat suddenly feels dry. “Know what?” She doesn’t say anything, so you snap, “know what, Alexis!”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone followed by her directing, “go to TMZ. Right now.”

Your panic instantly melts away. Alexis and her damn obsessiveness over pop culture.

Sucking your teeth, you laugh and shake your head. “Girl, you are so dramatic. Had me thinking something happened.” Switching to speaker, you open up your browser and start to type. “This better not be about the housewives, cause…..” Your voice stops and stomach drops when the splash screen loads, allowing you to read the headline.

A headline that includes a picture of you and Callie.

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: WWE SUPERSTAR ROMAN REIGNS LONG-TERM MISTRESS AND ALLEGED LOVE CHILD

Click for pictures and videos! Read the scathing story and watch the exclusive tell all interview with mistress childhood friend!

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #arisnotebook

159 notes · View notes

jhoneybees · 11 months ago

Text

Sweetly Drunk

I hope you like it! It's a little different from my other age regression fics but it's still really cute!! It's a pretty short one, sorry about that!! My brain isn't cooperating again😭

Tags: @elvisalltheway101

Characters: Drunk!Elvis X little!reader

Warnings/triggers: Little lifestyle, age regression, littlespace, intoxication, alcohol, drunk person(the fic is nothing terrible!)

There are a lot of 'babies' and 'sweeties' in this😅

_____________________________________________

It’s one of those very rare nights where someone like Elvis who isn’t a big drinker, has a few too many drinks with the guys. Elvis doesn’t get loud like many other drunks but the moment your name unknowingly slips out of his mouth, that’s when things break loose.

“Y/n? Babyy..where is my baby, Joe? Where?” Elvis whipped his head around at Joe, his eyes growing heavy and body jolting now and then from hiccuping. “At home E, she’s at home” Joe answered with a chuckle, patting his back. Elvis groaned and rested his head in his hands “I wanna see her… My darling…darling..so it goes SOMETHINGS ARE MEANT TO BE” lifting his head up, Elvis leaned back in his chair with his arms lifted in the air “TAKE MY HAND, TAKE MY WHOLE LIFE TOO” slurring his words and singing loudly, making the others laugh “E?” Charlie chuckled with a shot glass in his hand. His energy levels changing, Elvis groaned again and rubbed his eyes “Lord…” he sighed as he fell further into his chair with his legs spread out.

As time went by, the guys decided to send Elvis home. Leading him to his black Lincoln limousine for only him to make their lives harder by pushing them away and sprawling his arms out as if he’s an eagle but after some time, they eventually got him in and Joe volunteered to drive him back to Graceland.

Finally arriving back home, Elvis shuffles himself out of the passenger’s seat, stumbling up the steps with Joe watching him from the driver’s seat “Baby, baby…Babyyy” barging in, Elvis looks around “Where’s my baby… DARLING I’M HOME-” getting cut off abruptly by Jerry who was watching over you while Elvis was away “ Jeez E! Quiet down, she’s sleeping man!” he whispers. Elvis in his very drunk state, doesn’t listen and pushes Jerry away as his arms sprawl out once more. Walking up the stairs towards his bedroom “Wittle sweetie!” Jerry shakes his head whilst sighing as he leaves the house.

As Elvis walks into his bedroom, he snickers quietly, seeing a small lump on his bed “Sweetie…” prolonging his words in his silly voice.

Elvis kicks his shoes off and climbs onto the bed. A big grin on his face as he lays down and shuffles closer to your sleeping figure. Elvis wraps his arms around you, making you stir and soon opening your eyes. “...Daddy?” rolling onto your back, peering up through squinted eyes. Elvis letting out a breathy laugh “My baby! Hello..” he hiccups.

Your eyebrows furrow as you notice something’s different but your thoughts get interrupted by Elvis rolling himself on top of you in an attempt to give you a bear hug “How’s my darlin’ been? Hmm?” the size and weight difference being very visible, you gasp out for air “Daddy! I can’t breathe!” pushing your fists on his shoulders, Elvis chuckling he rolls off “Aw c’mon you love those hugs!” you huff out a breath and sit up, frowning confused at why he’s acting like this but then again Elvis interrupts.

Sitting himself up to pull you into another unexpected hug “C’mere Daddy wants a hug, a hug f’om my baby” he rests his head in the crook of your neck and playfully munches at your skin, making you giggle. “Daddy! What are you doing?” humming softly as he pulls away, looking at your eyes with his dazy ones “I love you so much” he whispers and you smile gently but soon fades as you watch his eyes close and slump back down onto the bed. “Daddy?” feeling concerned, then out of nowhere, his arms go up in the air “C’mere..” hesitantly you lay down against his side while placing your head on his chest, he sighs contently and wraps his arms around you again to make sure you don't go anywhere.

Soon drifting off to sleep, not knowing he'll be suffering from an awful hangover tomorrow morning but that's alright, he's got you.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fans #60s elvis #70s elvis #elvis imagine #i love him #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfiction

299 notes · View notes

blueberryarchive · 8 months ago

Text

thoughts on 80's slasher!jk...♡ (18+)

more here

(because i can't stop thinking about him)

There was something so cruel and fun about being part of a sleepover. The sweet aroma of vanilla and nail polish compacted in the room covered in colors. The muffled laughter of 2 in the morning, Steph's mother sleeping on the other side of the wall where the Billy Joel poster is. The yellowish silhouettes move slowly as they write on small pieces of paper, concentration makes them frown, smile flirtatiously at the ceiling.

“Can it be any guy?” Bobby Joe asks, tossing the piece of paper in the corner to grab another one, Steph rolls her eyes knowing full well why she would ask such a question.

If Bobby Joe was talking about any guy there would be no problem but the three girls, including you, knew perfectly well that sweet BJ wanted to put the philosophy professor's name in big italics.

“We're not going to call Mr. Hogg, Bobby Joe. I don’t want to hear him pull his old and saggy out just because I said the word ‘wet.’”

“I thought this was a game.”

“Exactly, it's a game. I don’t want to develop an infatuation with men over forty-five.” Liss attacked folding her game papers into four.

Your fingers fidgeted on the piece of paper on your knee. You couldn't write your boyfriend's name, obviously, it wouldn't be as fun since Jimin knows your friends' voices and it wouldn't be as fun to see one of your friends flirt with Jimin on the phone.

“Come on, Boo. Don't you know another man besides Jimin? Steph laughed. Bobby Joe and Liss put the names inside Elmo's mug.

No, you wanted to answer. But what's so fun about that. Now that you think about it, you should have brought your Monopoly or the old Ouija that your brother hides. It wasn't a good thing to ever leave the games to Steph.

Liss sat her face on your shoulder looking at the yellow paper, empty, desperately empty. You can put the name of someone who isn't in college, she whispered to you, taking pity on your sorry male record. And that's what you did, you chose your neighbor, only two people know how long you and Cooper haven't seen each other: God and your mom. And that was perfect, he wouldn't know your voice if you called him to ask him what his favorite position was.

Dan Cooper, the “o”s looked like long zeros and the ink pooled at the edges, demonstrating your hesitation in looking for another man in your life you wanted to call for a prank. But it was too late, Steph took the paper and crumpled it before you finished the R.

“Who dares to call first?” Liss held the cup, turning the papers over with a spoon.

Bobby Joe sighed looking into the darkness of the room. You noticed her nervousness, perhaps regretful.

“I want to change the last name…”

“Don't be a pussy, BJ.” It gushed from your lips, the Malibu bubbling in your throat with the taste of the Caribbean islands and the triple cheese pizza you had for dinner. None of the three expected to hear your babbling so early and in so few milliliters of rum.

“Well, you start, take a piece of paper.” You heard her mumble something about putting your stepfather's name on the cup, you ignored her as you took the paper that first fell on the carpet.

“Wait, let me turn on the camera.” Liss got up taking the camcorder that her father gave her for her new career in communication. Now the lens focused on the college antics of your group of friends and, occasionally, the artsy pornos that she and her boyfriend tried to sell on college corners.

Of the ten papers, the one you took seemed to be folded with the delicacy of origami. You unfolded until you undid the little cube and found a name that you have rarely heard or even thought about.

“Jungkook Jeon?” You feared you had said the name wrong but the looks between your friends were not looking for a good pronunciation but rather who dared, in fact, who even thought of trying to flirt with such a specimen.

Steph let out a squeal as she almost dropped her drink on her favorite sweater.

“God, Liss surely wrote that.”

"Why me?"

“You've always liked weird men.”

“You like octogenarians, you bitch.”

“Who the fuck is Jungkook?” You were starting to get desperate and the tiny flickering light from the camera was starting to feel like needles in your pores.

Steph takes another drink before proceeding to explain.

“He's a guy in econ class, a complete loser. He doesn't look anyone in the eye and walks around like he wants the earth to swallow him all the time."

“And why do y'all put it in the pile?” If you were going to call someone, it had to at least be worth it.

Bobby Joe and Liss look into each other's eyes and smile knowingly. BJ's bubblegum-pink coated index fingers come together and then spread alongside her smile.

“Several of the guys on the team have seen him in the showers.”

“I don't believe any of the men on the football team, that's what they said about Marc and he had a micro dick.” Steph looked pointedly at the camera. “Plus he doesn't even get up from the stands, I've never seen him play.”

“Jimin started calling him Junghood.” BJ played with her gum, twirling it around on her finger.

Jimin had never mentioned the guy to you.

“Junghood?”

“He likes to play with his bow and arrow in his free hours, like a Robin Hood.” Liss looked for another light, she wanted tried to see every line that formed on your forehead.

“The name is so stupid…no offense.” Steph finished her drink and handed you the heavy book.

You grabbed the phone directory and headed to J. The last name was easy to find and the dial easy to rotate, until your nerves choked you listening to the buzzing on the other end of the line. You wished he didn't answer, but you were also intrigued by the description. How is it that one of the players on the football team, who was supposedly well-hung and caught the attention of your little elite, was so relevant? And why didn't you know about him?

Your friends didn't focus on dragging unfortunate people through the mud, that's a high school girl thing. In college it was a matter of continuing to climb the ladder, maybe marrying a stockbroker from New York or becoming an intern at Vogue just so you could rub it in other people's faces.

And unfortunately for you, it was a Saturday night and of course this Jungkook guy would take the call. ‘I Can’t Quit You, Baby’ reverberated softly in the room, his breathing hitched and heavy. Had you woken him up? Suddenly, you were aware of all your senses, of the sense of the cassette filling up with frames of your stupid face trying to do a function as human and basic as talking, of the two shots running through your system. But oh…

"Hello?" His voice was raspy, sweet, a little nasal and whiny.

BJ squeezed your chin shaking it from side to side, enjoying your cowardice. Your face was toasted with a simple word.

“Jungkook?” You swallowed, your finger curling around the phone's pink cord.

"Who is it?" Complainant moved between the sheets until he was silent. “Fuck, it's two in the morning. Is this another one of the evangelical whores trying to sell me Bibles? I already told you what I would do to y'all if you called me again.”

And the threat sounded like a foreign promise that you wish you had heard alone. You looked at Steph who was drawing a cock next to his name, her eyes closed sensually as she stuck her tongue out.

“I just heard a rumor a couple of days ago and, you know, I haven't been able to sleep thinking about it being true.” Your voice turned to molasses, your eyebrows curled and your shoulders tensed in acted innocence.

“No, I don't sell pot. Is that it, princess?”

“Is it true that you have a big dick?” Steph, Liss and BJ were shocked. You stole the Malibu from one of them, you didn't even have the courage to talk to Jimin like that when you two were alone.

The girls ran as quietly as possible out of the room and down the stairs, opening the other phone to listen to Jungkook. But it was useless, since the person questioned did not respond. The camera already forgotten on the bed, you kneeling on the carpet hugging Liss's pink Care Bear between your legs.

A small laugh, the click of a lighter, a drag.

"What?" You could hear him reposition himself in his pillows. " You would like to know how big the weirdo in your class is, you fucking slut.”

No, ew.

“Yes, I say, if it is true.”

“How much would you like to know, mm?”

This wasn't the answer you were looking for, you thought maybe he would hesitate on your question or just hang up out of embarrassment. Maybe you should have stopped five more minutes and brought Clue or Guess Who? that was in your closet.

You thought about every face in the college hallways, about your boyfriend's friends, and about those you met at the mall or behind the movie theater on Sundays. None matched his voice.

“I told you I haven't been able to sleep for two nights, isn't that enough?”

“Maybe with a proper fuck you would relax, don't you think?”

You swallowed, letting your eyelids droop. Your hand approached the camera and you turned it to the wall so it could record its own reflection in the mirror.

“Can't talk, love? I thought you were the one who was going to play a lil' prank on me and leave me hard as a log on the other end of the line. What happened, do you really want me to crash this dick into your pretty pussy?” His laugh was mocking, he knew what he was saying and how he said it: with his hisses, deep tones; all through the smoke of an improvised cigarette in the late night.

You squeezed the bear between your legs and sighed.

“I've never been so…”

"Dirty? Badly spoken? Pleb?"

“So direct.”

“Isn't it so fucking good, though? Being able to say out loud that you think about my cock at night” The bass solo repeated itself like an angelic tune intertwined with his words.

It was hard to follow the joke when your panties started sticking to your lips with every word that came out of his mouth. Your friends had abandoned you so theycould listen downstairs and in the darkness of the room you could only imagine a headless body stretching your legs up to your shoulders, your pussy trying to make room to choke on the throbbing veins of an unknown dick.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” His question sounded like a command and your hips leaned forward, rubbing against the rough carpet.

"No."

"Ya' sure? Because just with your absence of words you have me squeezing my base. Can you imagine if you could take it all like a champ? I know whores like you, they dare to take on a whole team if they feel like it.”

His sly laugh was the last thing you could hear before hanging up the phone. You rose from the carpet searching for the cassette in Liss's camcorder, your thin fingers trembling as you destroyed the evidence of your pusillanimity and lust.

The three girls walked slowly to the room, all grouped on the bed like judges of the case. Looking for an explanation in your features but there was only one order.

“Nobody talk to Jimin about this, okay?”

The judges looked at each other, nodded in unison. Apparently bedtime approached earlier than expected and you were grateful that the alcohol had knocked out your friends so quickly.

You ran to the bathroom with the memory of his voice still fresh. The humidity still warm between your legs, you held onto the sink while you held back your moans, your forehead pressed against the mirror and your drool falling into the drain with the voracious hunger that only imagination can give.

#jk.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡#❗slasher! jk thoughts #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you

327 notes · View notes

boxblondiecoops · 1 year ago

Text

Expect a Coop x reader thing about stealing his jersey soon........ I'm on a kick.

#joe cooper #joe cooper thoughts #joe cooper x male reader #joe cooper x reader #baseketball #trey parker #trey parker x reader #trey parker x male reader

17 notes · View notes

baseketballer · 7 months ago

Text

Can I interest you in a web graphic / pixel of Cooper eating cereal?

#idk why I made this tbh #thought it would be silly #here you go I guess #BASEketball #joe cooper #trey parker #pixel #favicon #web graphics

50 notes · View notes

zvdvdlvr · 6 months ago

Text

The World We Knew

☢️ — synopsis. Sometimes even the Ghoul got lost in thought.

When Cooper was bored and there wasn’t anything worth shooting, he would find himself thinking of the love he had, the life he had, and the world he knew. He only let himself take a blast to the past once in a blue moon. Cooper knew that you were dead, your corpse long rotted over the 200 some years after the bombs dropped.

Admittedly this was one of the times Cooper would think of her.

The first time Cooper heard of you was after hearing your name being brought by some scriptwriters. “She’s just a young thing without much experience. We need to have a bigger name in this move, not some girl!”

The other man ‘tsk’ed. “Foolish man! I know the woman personally- not in such an inappropriate way, mind- and this would do wonders for her career! Y/n is truly a lovely thing and skilled at her trade. Just let me bring her in, Randy. Make your decision after you meet her.”

Randy sucked his teeth and massaged his temple. “Fine. A quick meeting. But when that thirty minutes is over, don’t yell at me when she’s thrown out.”

The Ghoul pulled out his canteen of miraculously clean water and took a sip. He had quietly grabbed a snack during their conversation and left without a word. Little did he know just how drastically his life would change after that conversation.

“Hello! I’m y/n l/n,” a woman greeted politely. She stuck out her manicured hand and shook Cooper’s tightly. Cooper was surprised by your firm and respectful handshake- he was used to people running up and hugging him or gushing and asking him questions.

“Well,” Cooper said as he returned your handshake. “I’m Cooper Howard, darlin’. More than happy to make your acquaintance. What brings you around… here?” He gestured to the men and women running around the movie set. He remembered your name from the overheard conversation from about a month ago.

You just laughed. “It would appear, Mr. Howard, that I will be lucky enough to work with you. I would have gone as far as to guess the production crew would have told you? It was brought to my attention that you were aware of my arrival,” you explained. Cooper was amazed at your polite and easygoing nature. It felt wonderful to be treated like just and average Joe for once. “I’m sorry you had to find out by me, Mr. Howard. I was under the impression you were already aware of this arrangement.”

“Oh, Cooper or Coop is fine, sweetheart,” Cooper told you kindly. “And it is truly no problem. Why don’t we go and see if we can get you all situated?” To Cooper’s delight, you nodded with a grateful smile. “Well have some time left until we wrap up for the day: why don’t you tell me about yourself, darlin’?”

Heaving a sigh, Cooper lets himself kick aimlessly at a large chunk of rock. What he wouldn’t do to go back in time to just have another conversation with you…

You two had gotten alone like two peas in a pod! Weeks passed quickly and soon the movie Caught on the Tides was released. To no one’s surprise, it was a smashing hit. People apparently loved the idea of a woman who was practically immune to the male charm until Walter (Cooper) caught your eye at a local festival. It was an easygoing romance/comedy that was thankfully PG-13. As a young woman, the past roles you were offered were side pieces or basically selling yourself. You took what you could get and attempted to steer clear of the nudity.

The side celebratory party was amazing. Randy and Joseph had rented out a cozy little bar/restaurant building that had enough room for about 100 people. The other castmembers, producers, and writers were there along with quite a few guests.

As the night went on, though, you found yourself growing increasingly exhausted with all the plastered smiles and arm patting and men’s eyes dropping to your assets whenever they thought you wouldn’t notice. You slipped out a side door and dug out a smoke and a light from one of the pockets you’d personally sewn into your dress.

You had just slipped out of your heels and plopped (unladylike, of course, but no one else was there to reprimand you) when the door opened. The intrusion made you want to sigh unprofessionally loudly and hide in the puffy material of your dress. Until Cooper’s smooth voice and slim body say down right beside you.

“Some producers are lookin’ for you.” Cooper’s comment doesn’t have the sharpness your manager’s would when she hollered up a storm about your tendency to wander.

In response you only click your tongue and fill your lungs up with smoke. You turn and face Cooper, who’s complexion is lit wonderfully but the light of the full moon. “Do you think the man on the moon gets lonely, Coop?”

Cooper’s eyebrows dip downwards. “I- I’d imagine so. Can’t be too fun bein’ up there by his lonesome.”

“I think so too,” you hum. Smoke seeps out of your lips as you turn to ask him another question. “Do you ever feel like the man on the moon, Coop? I’m just- I- I wonder if I’m in over my head sometimes with everyone here, Coop, and I-“ your words stumble out of your mouth and your hands shake as you bring the cigarette to your lips again. “I just feel like… you’re the only one that knows what I’m talking about, what I’m feeling.”

Cooper stares into your teary eyes with a heavy heart. You brought out such a protective part of Cooper he hasn’t felt since… since falling in love for the first time. Cooper shook his head. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. A sick part of him feels ecstatic that you are practically snuggling into his side- that you feel that he is the only one that understands. Deep down Cooper indulges himself in thinking you want him the way he wants you.

But you don’t. So Cooper is just barely content to let you lean into his side and tearfully ask for advice. “A part of that is always there, sweetheart. I feel like the man on the moon more than I’ll ever admit. But I’m also an old man who’s future is practically set in stone. You, though,” he chuckled and patted your side. You seeped into him and Cooper felt adrenaline rush through his veins. He could smell your delicately scented shampoo and matching body wash. “You could have any man on Earth you wanted, darlin’. Only a fool wouldn’t fall for you.”

You sighed and snuffed out your cigarette. Every part of you told you to leave him alone- to leave whatever relationship you have with him alone because he’s married (and you’d rather die than ruin your friendship). But being tucked under his arm and hearing the speed of his heartbeat made you think he felt the same as you. “Coop?”

Cooper looked back down at you. “Hm?”

“Are you a fool?”

Cooper’s heart raced. Your powerful gaze seemed to dig into his soul, searching for the answer he’d be damned to hell if he never gave you. “Do you take me for a fool, darlin’?”

You swallowed. “No, Cooper. Never.”

Within seconds, Cooper found his lips pressed against yours. He felt like exploding into a ton of confetti. His other hand came to cup your cheek and take dominance of your mouth. The passion Cooper felt was like none other and your breathless whimpers only encouraged him.

“Cooper…” you murmured, sitting up and grasping st the nape of Cooper’s neck. You felt perfect.

Cooper closed his eyes. He stood outside a familiar house. He figured he would stay here for the night. Cooper had already cleared, secured, and set traps around the building whenever he knew he’d be back.

Heaving a sigh, Cooper settled down on the bed and tilted his hat down over his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” Cooper muttered after wrapping a hand around your waist. “Got another birthday party and then I’m all yours, baby doll.”

The fall from fame was hard on everyone but Cooper refused to let it affect your career. He only saw you in professional settings and when no one saw you enter or leave his house.

“Manager’s giving me the day, so I’ll be here all day if you don’t mind,” you said, scooping out cherry pie filling from the can to your mouth with a spoon. Frank Sinatra’s hauntingly low voice crackled through the radio, painting a scene Cooper wanted to commit to memory forever.

Cooper just shrugged. “Up to you,” he said. “How do I look?”

You tilted your head and slid off the counter. Your hands came up to adjust the collar of Cooper’s blue cowboy shirt. Then they slid down to his lapels to smooth back. “Perfect. Ready to roll, cowpoke,” you joked.

His soft eyes stopped you in your tracks. “Why’re you looking at me like that, Coop?”

“Like what?” Cooper asked. His tone was teasing but you noticed a hint of the seriousness that had grown on him as of late.

You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, Coop. Like… like you love me, I suppose.”

Laughter filled the room, drowning Sinatra’s eerie song. “‘I suppose’?”

You shook your head with laughter. “I don’t want to overstep right now, Coop.”

The mood turned quiet again at your words. Cooper took your face in his hands and rested his thumbs under your eyes. “You don’t overstep, sweetheart. Speak your mind. Always.”

“I will. Promise,” you replied solemnly. Cooper pulled your face up to his and kissed you gently.

“I’ll be home later, sweetheart. Promise.”

You grabbed your spoon and the cherry pie filling before fallowing Cooper outside. The cool grass felt good on your bare feet as you watched Cooper mount his horse. When he looked back at you, Cooper broke out into laughter at the sight of you raising our eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart, and then we can get busy.”

You muttered something along the lines of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ before nodding with a comically dejected expression. “Alright. Bye Coop. Be safe!”

Cooper tipped his hat at you. “I will, sweetheart. I’ll see you later, now.”

Cooper could have sworn he heard you call out ‘I love you’ as he rode away. In fact, Cooper would have sworn on his life that you had said you loved him. But Cooper would just come home to you and hear you say it clearly when he got home.

If he got home.

200 years later, Cooper heard Frank Sinatra singing “over and over, I keep going over the world we knew” and wished he would have told you he loved you back.

75 notes · View notes

totalfrybag87 · 6 months ago

Text

I’ve never seen people so divided over an episode of The Boys before. Granted I wasn’t active in the online fandom until the tail end of the Season 3 rollout but I digress. What did y’all think if the newest episode? (Under the cut are my thoughts)

So um. I’m really half-n-half with this week’s episode.

There are a lot of things that I enjoyed:

- A-Train saving MM and then him and the kid smiling at each other at the hospital (kripke do not harm my pookie…)

- The Joe Kessler hallucination reveal (even though it was obvious, JDM ate that monologue UP!)

- A-Train and Kimiko interaction cuz how tf does Tek Knight have the perfect titles for books in there??? Also the last time they interacted (from what I remember) is from season 1 where they tried to kill each other so seeing them cooperate is cool.

- The Deep giving the new Noir some direction, something he desperately needed, and effectively radicalizing him (also shows how with a little push from Sage he went off the deep end. Ha.)

- The key book unlocking the dungeon being 120 days of sodom because…. Ofc it is

- Dumb sage interacting with HL and Victoria

- HL realizing he ain’t that smart when it comes to politics and can’t buzzword his way into political domination AND ALMOST CRYING LMAO? Also it affirmed what Barbara said in episode 4 about his need for love.

- Victoria saving HL’s ass cuz SHE is the actual politician and knows what she’s doing #girlboss

- Breast milk nut shot, had me screaming early in the morning cuz that actually shocked me

- Tek Knight being tortured via Starlight, Kimiko, Hughie (and Laddio) donating millions to causes that go against him i.e. The Innocence Project

- Tek Knight dying HALLELUJAH!!! Get that racist rich man gone.

- Hughie acknowledging that he was not okay at the end because with the shit he went through, no one would be.

But, I do have my gripes:

- Hughie’s SA scene. Way too long. Did I have to see him get violated for like half the episode?

- The dialogue. This emcompasses multiple episodes but the dialogue is so…. Edgy? To the point where it’s cringeworthy at times. It’s like that meme “If Vivziepop Wrote The Boys” and it’s just unecessary cursing or awkwardly placed cussing. Like why are these grown adults cursing like middle schoolers who just discovered “fuck shit bitch” for the first time?

- The Supe Virus. Sooooo it was fucking useless okay. But this does leave the door open for Sage. She is obviously not on Homelander’s side, she’s just there for her master plan of overthrowing him (that caesar line? Come on). I feel like she could pull off some double agent shit and help The Boys with the virus. If she can discover a cure for a disease at 11, she can definitely adjust the inner workings of a virus in her 30s. I hope that’s what happens in this season or at least in the next season. (Writers do not fail me now)

- Eric Kripke admitting that Hughie’s SA scene was supposed to be funny like bro what? You were able to handle Annie’s with grace but now that it’s a guy it’s funny now? I can understand making his situation somewhat comedic but really disturbing cuz that’s how I initially interpreted it and it’s really absurd if you decide to unpack the scene (okay i’m going undercover, wuh oh now i’m in a sex dungeon and am about to be dominated :0). But yeah, weird asf. Poor Hughie man. SOURCE

- This episode felt like filler. It’s like they sacrificed narrative progression for Hughie getting tortured. Let’s see what exactly happened in this episode that moved the general narrative forward (at least what I picked up on): A-Train redeeming himself more leading to his eventually defection from The Seven, Joe Kessler hallucination reveal, Sage sorta kinda losing her reliability with HL due to her getting shot in the head, The Deep radicalizing Black Noir 2, The Boys getting dirt on Victoria I guess. Idk I feel like we could’ve gotten more relevant plot moments had they just cut up the SA scene.

But that’s just what I think, lemme know your thoughts.

#long post #the boys #the boys tv #the boys season 4 #homelander #billy butcher #hughie campbell #starlight #kimiko miyashiro #a-train #sister sage #firecracker #the deep #black noir #victoria neuman #ashley barrett #tumblr polls #.txtpost

54 notes · View notes

dazed-and-confused23 · 7 months ago

Text

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 19

Summary: While in Goodneighbor, you find out that Cooper was a famous actor before the war, and ask him to tell you about some of his favorite ones. Much to the amusement to you and Hancock.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader , John Hancock x Female Reader

Warnings! Drinking and Drug Use. Movie references. Fluff and Domestic Fun.

Masterlist

The three of you are drunk as a skunk, high as a kite, and having the time of your life in the old state house that John calls home. You sit curled against the mayor, watching Cooper, who, in his delightful mood, had decided to regale the two of you with movie quotes and scenes that he'd done back before the war. It had started after he'd made a comment about being a better actor than the one they'd been watched on the fuzzy TV screen.

You had laughed and demanded that the ghoul show you a scene or two from the movies that he'd stared in.

Cooper stands across the living room table, a crocodile grin on his face as he quotes one of his films, his accent thick with a southern draw, "You ain't never heard of Wellenbeck prisoner of war camp, West Virginia?"

You shake your head, playing along with the ex-actor, and John snickers beside you, his laugh smokey and rough from the hit of jet he'd just had. Cooper continues, strutting around the room as he tells his story.

"Oh, Major Marquis did more than bust out. Major Marquis had a bright idea. So bright you hafta' wonder why nobody never thought about it before."

He skips over the other dialog, unable to remember half of the other men's lines, and continues. He gives you and John a look under the brim of his hat, "There was a rookie regiment spendin' the overnight in the camp. Forty-seven men... burnt to a crisp. Southern youth, farmers' sons, cream of the crop."

You gasp dramaticly, eyes wide as you clutch your imaginary pearls. Coop had told you a bit about the movie, set sometime just after the first Civil War back in 1877. You wish you could have seen Cooper back then, but this was just as good. The bounty hunter sets the scene, a small pit stop way up in the mountains.

He suddenly switches up, expression becoming a bit feral at the edges as he gives you and John a mean grin. He explains that Major Marquis has them all lined up against the wall after two men died from poisoned coffee. His voice is sarcastic, disbelief coloring it.

"So you finally decided I'm tellin' the truth 'bout bein' the sheriff of Red Rock, huh?"

He steps away from the wall, turning dramatically and stalking forward, hand under his chin as if he is pulling his thoughts together, "John Ruth was one mighty mighty bastard. But the last thing that bastard did before he died was save my goddamn life."

Cooper pauses and points at you, "You didn't. You were sitting there all quiet like when I poured that cup."

He spins on his heel, his duster flapping and his spurs jingling as he paces the room, "Both of you. Just watching me, waiting, waiting for me to drink myself to death. So what was the plan, Joe Cage? I drink the coffee, OB drinks the coffee, and John Ruth drinks the coffee? And you two sit around and laugh while we roll around on the ground, holding our bellies, screaming in pain?"

You and John are hooked after the speech, eyes wide as the two of you watch Cooper stomp across the room, grab a chipped coffee mug, and stalk over to them. You jump when he slams the cup in front of John, a nasty smile on his face.

Cooper pulls out all the stops, reaching for his side arm and aiming it at John, who looks more than a little nervous at having the hand canon pointed at him. The ex-actor mimes pulling back the hammer and then swings the barrel of his gun at the coffee cup, a snarl on his lips as he glares down at you and Hancock.

"Drink it."

Cooper keeps the scene going for several long seconds before breaking character and stepping back, shoving his side arm back in his holster and spreading his arms, a grin on his face, "Well?"

You burst into laughter and clap, snickering at the look of relief on John's face and the self-satisfied one on Cooper’s. The ghoul across from you bows before loping over to the couch and plopping down between you and John. He sits back and lights up a cigarette, smug as can be.

"Told ya, I still had it."

Ps. I own nothing here.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #john hancock x reader #john hancock #fallout john hancock #movie quotes

103 notes · View notes

the-lean-buddha · 5 months ago

Text

My thoughts on the news about The Long Walk's film adaption

I have very little faith that The Long Walk will be a good adaption but maybe I'll be wrong! I can dream, and I've been wrong before. Here are my thoughts on the casting announcements and set pictures.

Cooper Hoffman and David Jonsson are the leads, according to Deadline, which means they're presumably Garraty and McVries. Jonsson seems like a good actor but an awful fit for either character, and with Hoffman (presumably Garraty) it comes down to how good an actor he is, I guess, because I can see it working if I squint but I haven't seen anything from Hoffman to suggest he can do Garraty. And I reaaaaally doubt he could do McVries. McVries has a bite to him.

Joshua Odjick is Native American so he's presumably Joe or Mike (not to say that a different character couldn't theoretically be Native American in the adaption, but it's key to Joe and Mike that none of the other Walkers understand their culture at all, and only Baker defends their parents). It's odd that either of those two would have a prominent enough role to be cast already, so I wonder if either one of their roles is beefed up, or if Mike and Scramm will be a composite character and Joe won't feature at all. Alternatively, Odjick isn't playing a Native American character (or he is but Mike and Joe are adapted out), in which case I'd guess Parker.

Roman Griffin Davis is someone I've only ever seen in Jojo Rabbit so I don't know how much range he has. I think he'd fit best as Barkovitch but I wouldn't be surprised if he's been cast as Baker or Olson.

Charlie Plummer is Stebbins. I say this almost entirely because he's a long-haired blonde. If McVries is black then book descriptions (and characterizations, let's be honest, you can't make McVries a black kid in the 70s and keep his character the same) are thrown out the door already, but google Charlie Plummer and tell me he's not been cast as Stebbins. Also, take a look at this.

Ben Wang is Asian American and there are no explicitly Asian American characters, so we've gotta guess this one purely on Vibes (Olson and Barkovitch could both be canonically Asian American, but Barkovitch is openly racist, so). From Wang's YouTube channel and some clips of Chinese Born American I found, he's a nice and playful guy (hmu Ben let's get a lemonade, also tell me who you're playing), so I'd assume Baker or Olson or Abraham because they fit that the closest, I guess? But this is unfortunately a flawed way of guessing because actors playing lunatics are sometimes normal people in real life, walking among us, going almost undetected.

Tut Nyuot's a young, sweet-looking kid. I'd assume Percy? Again, weird to cast Percy already because he doesn't even have any lines in the book, but I can't imagine Nyuout playing a character who's supposed to be the same age as Charlie Plummer's character. Maybe he's unexpectedly good at playing deranged assholes like Barkovitch? We'll see.

For Garrett Wareing I'd say Olson, looking through clips and interviews.

Jordan Gonzalez gives me no strong impression. Sorry, Jordan. Feel free to give me a stronger one over lemonade (and tell me who you're playing). If I'm held at gunpoint then I'll say Abraham.

Mark Hamill is presumably playing the Major. He's absolutely not who I would have picked because he overflows with character and I always pictured the Major as a stoic, empty Big Brother type figure, whose moments of charisma and friendliness were obviously just an act. And I guess Hamill could play that, but I think the Major will more likely have a lot more personality and vim and vigor in the movie, if Hamill was cast - he's easily the biggest draw in the cast. Not necessarily a bad way to portray the Major, but easier to mess up. We'll wait and see.

Judy Greer as presumably Mrs. Garraty will presumably be fine.

Set photos look promising, aesthetically. No half-track, though. And there's a tank. Why is there a tank?

There's a Deadline article suggesting that there are only 50 kids and the pace limit is 3mph. But there's also an article suggesting it's still 100 kids so it might be a mistake? If it's 50 kids then that's presumably done for practicality but it's a bad change, the number will either get too low too fast or it'll drop too slowly (and also no 47 and 61 which would be weird but that's not significant). 3mph isn't necessarily bad, it's more feasible, but it does mean the "first into Massachusetts in seventeen years" can't happen. Maybe they'll make New Hampshire the record instead.

i want lemonade

Reblog with your thoughts! We've got news, people, and I'm sure someone somewhere is more excited about that than I am. Let's get some discussion going on in here.

38 notes · View notes

daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

Text

The Promise of Us: Chapter 43

warnings: threats of s/a

You

You walk along the train tracks later that day, next to Joe—the only one who offers even a semblance of safety, however thin. Gravel crunches under your boots, the rhythmic sound almost comforting, mingling with the acrid scent of cigarettes as he smokes beside you. The sky above is a dull gray, matching the grim reality you’ve found yourself in.

“Got any extra?” you ask, the words surprising even you. You hate the idea of relying on any of them for something so simple, yet the craving for a brief escape overpowers your pride.

Joe chuckles, his eyes flicking toward you, amused. “Thought you might ask,” he says, pausing to reach into his pocket. He pulls out a thin white stick, handing it over. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya,” he adds, striking a match with practiced ease and holding it up to the tip of your cigarette.

You lean in, the end flaring bright orange. Your lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile—it’s all you can manage as a gesture of thanks. You take a drag, the nicotine hitting your lungs hard, a bittersweet rush that almost makes your shoulders relax.

The two of you walk in silence for a while, the cigarette burning down between your fingers. There’s a strange, almost companionable quiet, broken only by the distant sounds of the others and the crunch of gravel underfoot.

“What’s your name, anyway?” he asks suddenly, his voice softer than you expect.

You hesitate, still wary of him and the others. You glance up where the rest of the group trudges a few paces ahead, their backs turned, “Y/N,” you say quietly.

“So what’s the plan, Y/N?” He asks right away.

“How so?” you ask, the question catching you off guard.

“You’re with us now, but you ain’t stickin’ around, are ya?” he guesses, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a faint, knowing smirk.

You nod slowly, taking another drag. The smoke makes your head spin, making everything feel a little lighter, a little more detached. “Just lookin’ for the right place,” you say quietly, exhaling through your nose.

Joe’s grin widens. “Oh, so we ain’t good enough for you, huh?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, meeting his gaze for a brief, tense moment. “Some of you ain’t exactly friendly.”

“Yeah, 'cause you’re a real peach,” he shoots back with a smirk. “But you know you need a group out here.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“No, you do,” he insists. “You oughta be with us.”

A sudden snarl ahead makes both your heads snap up, your instincts kicking in. A lone walker stumbles into view, and the men up front begin to taunt it, pushing it back and forth like a game. One of them finally plunges a knife into its skull, the grin on his twisted face.

Joe’s voice breaks the silence, calm and steady beside you. “Just gotta follow the rules—don’t gotta be ‘besties’,” he teases, “You steal— you keel, you claim. Sounds funny, but nobody laughs when somethin’ goes missin’,” he says, his tone deceptively casual. “And you don’t lie.”

“What happens if you break ’em?” you ask, voice low but curious.

Joe glances down at you, his gaze hardening slightly. “You’d catch a beatin’. Severity depends on what you did. But for you…” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, barely audible. “I reckon the punishment’d be different. More…personal. One you sure don’t wanna earn.”

The threat is clear, but his tone is almost friendly, as if discussing the weather. You swallow the knot of anger and fear rising in your throat, feeling a strange mix of defiance and resignation.

“Course, it all depends on the attitude of the day,” Joe continues, as if there’s some great secret to be learned. “Cooperate a bit, and maybe this world becomes ours.” He whistles sharply, signaling the others to stop near an abandoned building to set up camp for the night.

“There ain’t no ‘us.’ No ‘ours,’” you say sharply as he strides ahead.

Joe glances back over his shoulder, a knowing grin playing on his lips. “You leavin’ right now?” When you don’t answer, he shrugs. “No? Then it sure seems like there’s an ‘us,’ whether you like it or not.”

You all move into the dilapidated building, its interior filled with old, dusty cars lining the walls like decaying sentinels. One by one, the men call out their claims, each taking possession of a rusty vehicle as if it’s their own private kingdom. You roll your eyes, sticking to the shadows, leaning against the wall as you pull out your last can of beans.

You start eating, feeling each bite like a small victory in a day full of losses. But then a frustrated curse breaks the stillness from across the room.

“Christ,” someone mutters. You look up to see Len rummaging angrily through his bag. He straightens suddenly and marches toward you, hand extended.

“Give it here,” he orders, black curtains of hair hanging from his eyes, face twisted in rage.

“Get back,” you snarl, your voice low and dangerous as you sit up straighter, spine rigid.

Len’s eyes flash with irritation, but he presses forward. “My half was in the bag, now it’s gone,” he snaps. “Now, ain’t nobody else here interested in half a damn cottontail ‘cept you, ain’t that right?”

Your heart slams into your chest, adrenaline spiking. You stand quickly, hand going for your knife as Joe and a few of the others begin to circle closer, forming a loose ring around you. It feels like a trap closing in, the air thick with tension.

“You’re the only one still obsessed with that shit,” you bite out, baring your teeth at him like a cornered animal.

“Empty your bag,” Len demands, stepping closer, eyes blazing with a twisted kind of triumph.

“I said get back!” you yell, holding your knife out in front of you, the blade shaking slightly but firm in your grip.

A heavy silence falls over the room as Joe steps forward, his gaze shifting between you and Len, assessing the situation like a predator studying prey.

He reaches for your bag, snatching it up from where it lay. His eyes fix on yours, cool and unblinking. “You take his rabbit, Y/N? Just tell me the truth.”

Your lip curls further, rage mingling with the sting of injustice. “No,” you snarl, voice raw with frustration.

Joe doesn’t hesitate, tipping your bag’s contents onto the floor. The ass end of the rabbit, your blanket, the small first aid kit, and the flint tumble out. But then, with a sickening thud, the bloodied, matted head of the rabbit rolls into view. Your chest tightens, disbelief and fury washing over you as you realize you’ve been set up.

“Well, look at that,” Joe says with a casual tone that belies the gravity of the situation.

“You put that there, didn’t you?” you growl, eyes blazing at Len. “When I set my bag down for one fucking second.”

“You lied,” Len sneers, looking you up and down with satisfaction.

“Didn’t you?” you shout, lunging forward, knife forgotten as your hands shove him with all your strength.

“You lied,” Len spits back, jabbing a nasty finger in your face. “You stole. Let me teach her a lesson, Joe,” he snarls, grabbing you roughly and spinning you around, slamming you against the hood of a rusted car. The metal bites into your chest, and a scream tears from your throat, blood roaring in your ears as he pins you there.

“Whoa, whoa,” Joe says sharply, pulling Len off you with a firm grip on his shoulder. You spin around, leaning back on the hood, palms pressed against the cold metal, chest heaving.

“She says she didn’t take your rabbit,” Joe continues, voice steady but probing. “So we got a little conundrum here.”

Joe’s eyes narrow slightly, shifting between you and Len. “Either she’s lyin’—and you’d be perfectly within your right to punish her. Or…” He pauses, a cruel smile twitching at his lips as a chuckle escapes him, “Or you— you didn’t plant it on her like some pussy, punk-ass, cheatin’ coward cop, did ya?”

Len’s face twists, and for the briefest moment, you catch a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

“While that wouldn’t be breakin’ the rules exactly,” Joe says slowly, as if savoring each word, “it’d be disappointin’.”

Len’s jaw clenches, anger mingling with fear. “Yeah, well I didn’t,” he snarls, face inches from Joe’s.

Joe turns to you, a hint of disbelief in his eyes, like he’s almost amused at the situation. “Well…” he starts, but then suddenly, he pivots, swinging a hard fist into Len’s face. Len stumbles back, crashing to the ground, surprise etched across his features.

“Teach him well, gents,” Joe says coldly, nodding to the others. “Lyin’ sack of shit, and I’m sick of it.”

Your eyes widen as the other men descend on him, fists and boots flying in a brutal, unforgiving rhythm. It’s a savage display of loyalty to their twisted code.

Joe turns back to you, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Saw ‘em do it,” he admits quietly.

Your face hardens, fury bubbling up again. “And you didn’t try to stop him?” you demand, pushing off the hood and stepping into Joe’s space.

“He wanted to play that out,” Joe replies, his tone almost patronizing. “I let him.” He raises a finger, pressing it gently to your chest. “You told the truth. He lied. You understand the rules—he doesn’t.”

The sounds of grunts and fists connecting echo through the building, a violent backdrop to the moment. Joe bends down, picking up the head of the rabbit. He tosses it to you with a casual flick of his wrist. “Looks like you get the whole thing after all.”

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

“Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pig’s feet. That’s a white trash bunch, right there,” Daryl mutters, surveying the open cupboard inside the funeral home they’d found across the cemetery. There’s an uneasy feeling gnawing at him as Beth pulls things off the shelves.

“It all looks good to me,” she says, her tone laced with a simple happiness that only comes from finding food.

“No, hold up.” Daryl’s eyes narrow, his instincts prickling. “Ain’t a speck of dust on this.”

“So?” Beth asks, still rummaging.

“So, that means someone just put it here.” He points at a jar of grape jelly, suspicion creeping into his voice. “This is someone’s stash. Maybe they’re still alive.” He nods, already making up his mind. “Alright, we’ll take some of it and leave the rest, alright?”

Beth smiles, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “I knew it. It’s like I said—there’s still good people.”

Daryl dips his finger into the jelly jar, bringing it to his mouth, savoring the sweet, sticky taste with a grunt.

“Gross,” Beth whines, but he just smirks, slurping the tart jam off his finger.

“Hey, them pig’s feet are mine,” he calls after her as she heads to the other side of the room, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself.

A few hours later, the night settles in fully, cold air drifting through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. Daryl steps inside from the darkness, having done his rounds to make sure the place is secure. He rubs his hands together, trying to warm them after the chill outside. His boots scrape lightly against the worn floorboards as he moves into the dimly lit room, the scent of wax and old wood filling the air.

Beth’s voice drifts softly, her fingers gliding over the dusty piano keys. It’s a sound that’s almost jarring after the silence of the night—fragile, human, and unexpectedly tender. Daryl clears his throat as he steps further into the room, the sound unintentionally breaking the soft rhythm. Beth jumps slightly, her shoulders tensing.

“Uh, the place is nailed up tight,” he mutters, his voice low, still rough from the cold.

Beth turns on the bench, swinging her legs to face him, her expression curious but calm.

“Only way in is through the front door,” he continues, glancing around the room once more. He’s scanning the shadows, double-checking for anything he might have missed, the instinct to be thorough always in the back of his mind.

Beth watches him as he approaches the casket in the center of the room. Without a second thought, he climbs inside, shifting to get comfortable against the surprisingly plush lining.

“What’re you doin’?” Beth asks, half amused, half appalled.

“This is the comfiest bed I’ve had in years,” he says, letting out a long, contented sigh, the warmth of the room finally settling into his bones.

“Really?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.

“I ain’t kiddin’,” he replies, adjusting his leather jacket under him. He jerks his chin toward the piano. “Why don’t you go ahead and play some more, keep singin’.”

“I thought my singin’ annoyed you,” she teases lightly, her voice taking on a playful lilt.

“There ain’t no jukebox, so…” he trails off, letting the words hang in the air. It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s close enough.

Beth turns back to the piano, her fingers hesitating before picking up the melody again. Her voice is soft, but steady, filling the small room with a kind of comfort that feels foreign. Daryl watches her, the warmth of the notes sinking into his bones, surprising him with how nice it feels. His fingers fidget around his mouth, a restless habit he’s never quite managed to shake. The edge of his thumb finds his lips, and he chews absently at the skin, his gaze fixed on Beth.

The dull, familiar ache of Y/N lingers somewhere deep inside him, but it ebbs just a little when Beth smiles his way, her eyes bright with some kind of hope he doesn’t recognize anymore. There’s guilt in that, a pang that twists in his gut. He doesn’t understand why he’s even here, sitting in this dusty old living room with a girl like Beth—a girl who’s all light and hope, something he’s never known how to handle. But the warmth is there, confusing as hell, and for a moment, he lets himself lean into it, unsure whether to fight it or cling to it.

Beth’s voice rises a bit, a sweetness that makes him feel something soft and raw. He huffs quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor, but his thumb stays at his mouth, his teeth working at the calloused skin like he’s trying to make sense of all the conflicting feelings swirling inside him. He’s not good with this—never has been. It’s all tangled up: the guilt, the comfort, the warmth that lives in Beth’s voice.

His eyes close as memories flood to him then. As the melody shifts, suddenly he’s back at the prison—Y/N humming softly as she cleaned her knife after a run, the tune light and careless. He’d acted like he wasn’t listening, but he’d memorized the sound, the way it made the walls of his chest feel a little less tight. The ache is sharp and sudden, and Daryl forces his eyes open, his gaze focusing on the flickering candles instead.

Beth’s singing breaks slightly on a note, and Daryl’s lips twitch with the faintest hint of a smile. He watches her, her silhouette framed by the dim glow, her voice raw and unpolished. He knows this moment is fragile, something that could break under the weight of all he’s carrying. But for now, it’s enough to let it be what it is.

He closes his eyes again, leaning back into the casket. He isn’t sure what the next day will bring, but for the moment, he allows himself the small comfort of Beth’s voice in the quiet, the distant memory of Y/N’s laughter mingling with it like a ghost. It’s a bittersweet blend—enough to make him feel something that isn’t anger or regret. It’s not relief, not really, but it’s a start.

And as the candles flicker low, Daryl lets himself exhale slowly, the cold of the night giving way to a warmth he can’t quite explain.

#the promise of us #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl one shot #daryl twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl fanfiction

27 notes · View notes