#this woulda been a fuck around and find out moment

[mxtxfanatic]

One day this fandom will have a reckoning on how it likes to blame Jin Xixuan's death on Wei Wuxian—whether by maliciousness or a "loss of control"—while ignoring the fact that Jin Zixuan died because he lunged at Wei Wuxian with a drawn sword because he was angry that Wei Wuxian told him that he doesn't trust him after he refused to tell Wei Wuxian whether or not he was a part of the ambush his cousin set up after Wei Wuxian told him to keep his distance from him after he told Wei Wuxian to stop defending himself against an ambush that he showed up to and was plainly told was put together to kill Wei Wuxian after he had already been bodily pushing Wei Wuxian around to protect his cousin. But all of that is supposed to be forgiven and forgotten because the reason he wanted Wei Wuxian to ignore all logic and put his life in danger was for Jiang Yanli's temporary happiness? Lol. Lmao even.

[tododeku-or-bust]

So this isn't a callout; the reblogger was absolutely valid in their take on not allowing men to get away with nonsense but like I'm not gone hold you this one triggered me a little

My father would have punched the shit out of me lmao. I flinch at the thought. Like I cannot fathom the type of safety where I could ever attempt this (and my relationship with my dad is eons better than it was as a child) and not send my father spiralling backwards. Maybe they meant like an arm punch? I hope so. Still. Yikes. I had to calm down a little lmao everybody don't have the same experiences and all that

[oceantornadoo]

part two - outlaw!simon x reader who was supposed to marry johnny (rip)

when you wake in the morning, there is no husband in your bed and an angry sheriff at your door.

the missing husband is a later problem. you snatch your worn dressing gown from your nearby chair, shirking it on over your night shift as you head towards the door. you grab your rifle on the way, noting simon had unloaded it when you weren't paying attention. bastard.

"mornin' ma'am." sheriff graves is a sunny character on your doorstep, western sun and a shifty smile. you mutter a greeting back, wondering why in god's name he is pounding at your door when the sun has barely touched the sky. "did ya have any trouble last night? there's rumors of an outlaw group on the edge of town." you shake your head, gaze holding firm. "no, sir. woulda shot 'em if i did." he nods, then looks down at his boots. "and that husband of yours? he at home, protectin' his wife?" ah, so that's why he's here. everyone knows you are married but no one's ever met the guy, seeing as he's been journeying over mountains and grasslands to get to you. sheriff graves is well aware of your lonesome self, just you and your rifle. "he's around, sir. i'll be introducin' him to yall soon enough. 'course, we're spendin' some time together as man and wife first."

his pupils go wide at your insinuation, not ladylike in the slightest. 'course, you are a barmaid, so what's to be expected of you? "i see. well, i'll leave you to your mornin', ma'am." if he really wanted to give you your morning, he wouldn't have woken you up so early, but you weren't going to give him that much attitude. "good day, sheriff." you close the door when his boots are still in its shadow, a little too close to be polite.

"you protectin' me, darlin'?" you jump at his voice, nearly scaring you out of your gown. "good lord, give a girl some warning!" he's fully dressed, hiding in the shadows of your pantry in a full-black outfit. you take in the bandana hiding his face, the all-black chaps encasing his thick thighs, and the holsters strapped and loaded. "you're up early." he grunts, coming closer. simon checks the door lock, then pushes you up against it with his body, his arms coming to hold the wall over your head. "had t' water my horse. you miss me?" you shake your head vehemently. "you snore. you will not be gettin' in my bed again soundin' like a freight train." instead of taking offense, he laughs, all gravel in your ear. "johnny woulda loved you."

you can tell he regrets saying it the moment it leaves his lips. his body tightens, that easy flirtation dying in the wind. "you miss him?" you ask quietly, testing the lines between you. "everyday. less now, i think. got a spitfire to take care of." unwillingly you lean closer, crossing your arms over your chest. "you better be talkin' about your horse." he grumbles something unintelligible, one hand leaving the wall to ghost against your hip. you're reminded of last night, of his rough embrace and warm arms.

"hips up for me, sweetheart. there ya go." simon places a pillow underneath your hips, the angle revealing more of your cunt to him. you whine as he stares, hips bucking as if to entice him. "y'r so needy, darlin'." you moan, one leg reaching out around his waist to tug him closer. he lets out a laugh as you line up your pelvises, the rough material of his pants rubbing against your bare body.

"i've been horny. can't fuck anyone when you're married, apparently." he hums, opting to trace the line of your jaw instead of the seam of your cunt. "still, coulda been a killer, yet you opened up so easily for me." embarassment courses through your body but you refuse to feel the shame along with it. you reach out your hands to find his zipper, tugging it down when he doesn't stop you. "you're no killer. if johnny trusted you, so do i." your hand finds his cock beneath the layers of his clothes, tugging it out slowly. he hisses when it meets the cool night air, already so hard and ready to go. "don't go makin' assumptions about me, sweetheart. there's a lot you don't know."

the fear hits you for a moment. a realization that this man could be lying completely, some stranger off the street who barreled his way into your home. you search his eyes for the truth, sticking to your belief in the good in people. you find it in his gaze; he's trying to scare you. you smirk at the thought, this big tough man wanting to scare you, a lady living on her own in the wild west. takes a lot more to do that. "can i put it in?" you refuse to acknowledge what he said, gripping his cock tightly and tapping it against your opening. he's already made you come twice, once on the kitchen table and another against the door, but you still need to be full. "yeah baby, put it in."

you shake out of your daydream, noting the moving path of the sun lighting the outline of simon's body. "c'mon, i'll show you where my stable is. and then maybe, if you're good, you can come to my shift at the pub later." he snorts, one hand on your hip. the feeling of possession is alien. you've spent so many nights dreaming of johnny, dreaming of having a husband, that simon's presence feels like something you need to wake up from. he could be a figment of your imagination, you decide, watching him untie his horse from a nearby tree and bring her over. instead of walking down that mental path, you take another step towards this outlaw of a husband and try to shake off the butterflies in your stomach.

--

PART FOUR

yes he's wearing the gunslinger fit idc but with the bandana (i couldn't find a good pic)

tag list:

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@sinful-tawtute

@nightingale2124

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

@saucypeanuttt

[graves4girls]

☆ let's go to bed | miguel o'hara

✮ wc. 763 ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader soft!miguel truther 4 life ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

Sliding one of his shirts he'd left behind over your pillow because you miss him. You hadn't seen him in a good few days, on account of a particularly difficult anomaly, and the best idea you can muster right now is to just fall asleep to the linger of his cologne clinging to the fabric. 

You're curled up in your warm bed, tucked under the covers with the side of your face smooshed into your pillow, wallowing in the faint woody scent as you snore quietly. You don't hear the squeak of your unlatched window sliding open, but you stir when the pane closes with a sounding thud, a hushed expletive following as you slowly awaken. Your eyes wrench open to squint around the dark room, panicking for a moment when your gaze falls on the hulking figure beside your bed, clad in dark shadows, before you realize what's happening. Your face heats up a bit when you remember what your current state looks like, how pathetic it has to be.

"I didn't know you were gonna swing by tonight. A little heads-up woulda' been nice. You scared the shit out of me."

You sluggishly sit up from your mass of blankets, eyes still adjusting to the darkness as you look up at him.

"You shouldn't leave your window unlocked. That's incredibly dangerous."

"I live on the sixth floor. I doubt much could happen."

He scoffs quietly, but he has a gentle smirk on his lips. "I didn't mean to wake you up." He stalls for a second, eyes dancing across your sleepy figure. "Y'know, you're cute when you're sleeping."

"Creep." 

He chortles quietly, stepping closer to the bed, but he stops, and your skin flares again when you see his gaze slide to the pillow beside you.

"Is that my shirt?" 

You sputter a bit, utterly embarrassed he caught you stooping as low as that. "I know, it's weird. I just–" You trip over your words as you dig for an explanation that doesn't sound insanely desperate.

"Oye, cálmate. It's not weird. Es lindo." 

He moves to sit on the mattress, reaching out a big hand to wrap around your own, thumbing over your knuckles. You sit there for a moment in comfortable silence, grinning stupidly when he raises your arm to drop a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Eres tan bonita, muñeca. C'mere, mamí."

You scoot closer to him to nestle into his side as he leans back against the headboard of the bed, slinking his arm around your waist as he looks down at you. City lights bleed into the room from your drawn curtains, painting him in soft purples and whites that wash over him perfectly, the light delicately clashing with the harsh shadows of his angular features. 

"How did the mission go?" You drape a leg over his lap to get impossibly closer, letting your hand settle over his chest.

"Awry, at first, but we got him and sent him back to his universe. He was a lot bigger of a threat than any of us had thought."

You can tell just the thought of what had happened irked him, if the way he clenched his jaw was any telltale.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay. And now you can relax for a little bit. Just me and you."

That soft smile finds its way back onto his lips, and he sinks further into the bed, rolling onto his side to wrap around you like a constrictor. He's kissing you now, tender and sweet, one of his hands sliding up your spine to hold the back of your head. It's cool in your room, but he's insanely warm against you, big hands moving to clutch at your hips as your arm curls around his waist, slipping your hand under his shirt to let your fingertips run along his bare skin. He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your jaw bone, one more to your throat before he nuzzles his nose into your neck, taking in a long breath and letting out a tired sigh, big shoulders relaxing as he closes his eyes, lashes tickling your skin.

"Let me sleep in tomorrow morning. I'm fucking exhausted."

One of your hands comes up to comb your fingers through his soft curls, pressing a short kiss to the top of his head. "I can tell."

His arms tighten around you to keep you from slipping out of his grasp, and his breath quiets.

"I'm gonna need that shirt back, by the way. It's one of my favorites."

[luvrxbunny]

sleek

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Prompt: Car Sex

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, f!oral sex, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.7k

A/N: pretty sure the truck was Tommy’s but we’ll pretend it was Joel’s

You and Joel were on a supply run, nothing you haven’t done a million times before. You guys were wandering around, looking for anything you could find when you heard him let out a sharp gasp. You grip your gun reflexively and start looking around for whatever he saw, but you find nothing. 

“Aww look at this!” He’s admiring a bloody, muddy, beat-down truck. He’s crouching, groaning at his knees when he stands back up to circle the truck. “Wow…” He actually sounds in awe… you don't get it.

“Joel, that truck is in horrible condition.” You deadpan. He turns to you with a childlike glee in his eyes. “No! Don’t say that! She’s jus’ a fixer upper that’s all.” He pats her hood with a smile. “Looks just like my old truck, from before… Of course, mine was cleaner… yeah.”

He runs his finger through the coat of dirt with a sad sigh. “I kept her so nice, so clean.” He glances over at you with a shy smile. “I woulda taken you to a real nice place in her, make it a long drive jus’ to show off for ya’.” It warms your heart, the softness of his fantasy, the domesticity of it.  

“Yeah? I’d be so impressed too.” You make your way over to him, admiring the truck a bit. “I used to love a guy with a truck, especially those ones that need a step to get in.”

You see excitement fly over his face as he holds a finger up to you and rushes to the side of the car, opens the passenger side door, and showcases the step at the bottom of the doorway. “See! You woulda been so impressed.” He sounds a bit deflated at the lost opportunity, you try and indulge him. 

“Where would you take me?” The light returns to his eyes when he turns to you. “Where’d ya’ wanna go?” He stands quickly and rushes to stand in front of you, to watch you answer as though he really needed to know. “Uh- I think I’d love to go to a drive-in theater… especially with a truck!” His smile is wider than you’ve seen in a while.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’d get some blankets, and make the back all nice and comfortable for ya’. You’d be so impressed with me, baby, I swear.” This felt like it was bordering on self depreciation talk and you wouldn’t have it. “Joel. I’m already impressed with how well our date nights go. We’re living on a commune in the apocalypse yet I still feel like the most important thing when I’m with you. That’s the most important thing to me.”

His eyes meet yours sadly. “I have more charm with the truck though.” He has a shy smile on his face as he says it, embarrassed at how true he believes it is. You laugh at his claim. “Sure, Joel. The only appeal this truck has to me… is that there are more places to fuck you in. Other than that, it doesn't serve much purpose.” You watch his face contort in shock for a moment before turning slightly pink. You giggle at his reaction and tell him you guys have to get a move on. 

You’ve taken a few steps when you realize you don’t hear him behind you. You look around and don’t see him at first, then you notice he’s gotten in the truck. 

His obsession is gonna get us stuck out here after sundown. 

You shake your head and make your way back to the truck, his jacket is off, and his back is turned to you. “Joel, what are you doing? You can’t fix the truck” He turns to you and his face is still red, his chest is lightly heaving and there’s a bulge in his pants. “No, but I can still fuck you in it.” 

You look down at the seat to see he’s laid his jacket out for you, so sure that you’re going to let him fuck you in this fake copy of his old truck. He’s right. 

You smile and he reaches his hand out for you to take as you climb in. He watches you press yourself up from the step and almost fall into him. He catches you with a chuckle and your lips are already pressing into his. He groans against your lips at your desperation, at the way you’re already trying to lick into his mouth, repositioning yourself so you can try and wiggle your way onto his lap. 

He smiles into the kiss, pulls your hips away from him, and starts sliding them down, letting you lean back against the seat cushions. He pulls your pants and underwear down to your knees before just diving in. His head buries itself between your legs before you can gasp at the cold air hitting your sensitive skin. 

His tongue is licking across anything he can reach, trying to taste every part of you. One of his hands pulls away from its painful grip on your thighs to unzip his pants. His cock is pressing painfully into the denim as you mewl above him, whining for more, for him to stop and just fuck you, you don’t even know what you want. Joel brings that hand up to lay across your waistline, pressing your hips down against the fabric of his jacket. 

You feel bad because you know you’re making a mess on it. You’re soaked by the way Joel was trying to drink you up, at the groans and grunts he’s letting out between your legs and the way his hips have started to slowly grind his aching cock against the seats. 

Your hips slowly begin to rock into his face, your hands come down to hold his head in place as you do. He groans your name into your pussy as you use him, riding his nose as his tongue tries to wiggle its way inside you. His eyes are shut in concentration but they shoot open to look at you when you start moaning his name. “Joel. C- Joel I’m close- so close, Joel. Joel-“ 

Your hushed voice comes out as a whimper as you try and warn him. Joel is lost in the way you say his name. The way you feel the need to have it on repeat as you cum, like it’s the only thought in your head. 

His hand comes down to palm his raging bulge, relieving some of the tension that’s been building as he fucks into the dirty seats. He’s pulsing for you, to get inside you, to fuck you in his this truck. 

His eyes close at the thought. In an alternate universe, Joel thinks you’d be softer. You’re already so sweet and sensitive for him but without the added sense of danger, Joel thinks you’d be a mess for him. Just melting all over whenever he touched you. 

He’d be more affectionate too, get you into that headspace that makes everything fuzzy. Keep caressing you until all you can do is cling to him and ramble deliriously about how good he makes you feel. He’d love to have the opportunity to take his time with you, bring you so high that you feel like you’ll never come down, and then throw you over the edge. 

“JOEL-“ His name comes out as a shouted gasp before you’re creaming all on his tongue. His eyes roll back behind his shut lids as he desperately tries to drink up all your juices. He’s relishing your taste, moaning praises to you from buried between your legs. He knows you can’t hear them but he means them so truthfully he doesn’t even need you to, he just can’t stop them from tumbling out of his mouth. 

You have to tug his hair to get him out, to stop him from. overstimulating you to the point of immobility. “Joel. S- You s-said you’d fuck me.” 

You’re whining for him, already begging for more and he is more than willing to give it to you. He’s already pushing himself off the ground, pulling his jeans down, and climbing over you with a smirk. You’re wearing a pout that’s reluctantly turning into a shy smile under his gaze. He helps you pull your pants completely off your legs before spreading you open. 

He has one leg over his shoulder and the other resting on his hip, his hands are clutching each ankle as he smiles down at you. “Wanna put me in, baby?” His accent makes the words slide out of his throat like honey, spilling from his lips like they’re the sweetest syrup. 

Your pussy is already squeezing down on nothing, begging him to stretch you. He chuckles at the whimper you let out before grabbing his thick cock and lining him with your entrance. You can feel his tip resting so far outside where your hole sits naturally and your heart begins to race. You can tell Joel is having the same thoughts by the way his gaze is focused on where you two are touching, where his tip is just leaking into your hole. His breaths are coming out in small pants and he’s trying to stop his hips from thrusting his cock inside you, pushing his way through. 

You wiggle your hips slowly, trying to ease him in. His tip slides in quicker than you expected, you flinch and moan at the sensation, winning a rare whine from Joel as his tip catches on your ever-constricting pussy. His hand has to leave one of your legs to push your hips down onto the seats, ensuring that you don’t take any more of him in. 

If you did, Joel thinks he’d blow his load instantly. 

Now you’re whining on his tip, begging him for more as he squeezes the base of his dick, trying to will his load to stay at bay. Your whines start to get a bit weaker, more watery and you start to sniff. Joel’s eyes snap to yours and see your face turned away from him with little steaks of water from wiped tears on your cheeks. He reaches for you immediately. 

“What? What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt? Wan’ me t’take it out, baby? C’mon, talk to me.”

You turn to Joel and shake your head with a sad smile before trying to kiss him but he turns away to whisper in your ear. “Gotta tell me what’s wrong first, darlin’.”

He lets you cling to him, a hand still on your hip as you try to coax more of his cock into you, wiggling your hips and clenching rhythmically to try and convince him to push into you as you let it little sobs into his neck. “J- Just need you s- so bad J- Joel. I need it, need you.”

He swears his vision blurs for a moment. He’s heard you say this to him countless times and it turns him on, sure. But he’s always known you say it for that specific reason. 

This time, however, it feels like you really mean it. The way your body is crying- the way you’re literally crying for him. It’s all too much, it doesn’t feel real. He can’t believe the way he makes you feel so good, it’s all he wants; to make you feel good. His cock won’t stop pulsing inside you, he’s trying to calm down but your whines for him are almost too much. 

He starts thrusting into you, he doesn’t work his way up to the brutal pace he’s currently at. He started that way, fueled by the shout of his name from your lips. He hides himself in your neck and your hands come up to cradle his head against you, your hands digging into his soft hair as he ruts into you. “I’m not gonna last.” 

The words rush out of his mouth and you moan his name in response. Your pussy suffocates him, pulling him- forcing him closer to the edge. “I w- want it, Joel. Please cum inside me-” You gasp at your own words and Joel can feel his balls tightening at them. “Joel-” Your tone becomes frantic and you’re clawing at his shoulders, his neck and gripping his hair to pull his head from your neck. You’re staring at his face now, hands on either side, but his eyes are still closed. He’s still too close, he doesn’t want- he can’t risk cumming before you. He needs you to cum on him first, for you to moan his name in the way you only do when he’s got you shaking on his cock… but you’re whining at him to open his eyes, to look at you. You’re begging him. 

“Look at me when I cum, Joey. P-please. Joel-” You gasp out a moan and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him in for a blind kiss. He can’t help but open for you, letting you lick into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his stomach burns at the taste of your tongue. He takes a shaky breath to calm himself and you’re moaning against his lips again. “I need it.” You’re breathless as you try not to cum, letting out breathy keens and high-pitched sighs of his name. He can feel you twitching on his cock, squeezing him for a moment before whining and trying your hardest not to. He can’t deny you any longer. His eyes open and meet your instantly. 

You pull his head to yours, desperately trying to fall into his eyes as your orgasm crashes over you, only waiting for Joel’s gaze to unleash it. Your mouth opens wider the tighter your pussy chokes his cock, you’re gazing right into his eyes as you cream all over his cock. 

He can’t. His breathing picks up as you stare into him, so lovingly. He starts panting, his breath fanning over your face until little whines and curses work their way out of his throat. His chest is heaving and his hips are slowly losing their rhythm. “I-inside, Joel. Wan’ it.” Your words slur together as your eyes roll back at the pulsing of his cock inside you. 

Your name is falling from his lips like a plea before he brings his body flush against yours. His hand comes behind your head to pull you up into a sitting position as he leans back onto his heels, still thrusting into you slowly. “‘M gonna gi-give it to you, baby. Gonna fill you-” Pleasure runs up his spine with a shudder and his eyes fall shut. 

“ ‘M cummin’, sweetheart.” The words are more whiny than you’ve ever heard him and he starts spilling into you. He’s grunting out sounds that vaguely resemble your name, working himself up into a whine as he continues to thrust into you. His brows furrow and his hips stutter to a stop but he’s still filling you, so you start to grind on him. His eyes shoot open with a ragged moan. “Can’t- It-” He struggles to get the words out as you swivel your hips on him, enticing his cock to let another round of cum spit into you. His eyebrows pull inward as you smile at him deliriously, letting an innocent giggle fall from your mouth. 

He moans your name against your lips, his hands on your lower back to hold you up as he finishes filling you. His entire body shudders with the last rope of cum that shoots into you, earning a pretty moan from your lips. “Fuck, Joel.”

He grunts into your neck, placing soft kisses there while he tries to calm down. You’re humming at each one and stroking the back of his head softly, resting your head on top of his. He’s letting shuddering sighs out against your skin as his cock softens inside you. He slowly pulls his head out from your neck, you leave your hand on the back of his head and give him a crooked, lazy smile that warms his heart. “Tha’ was so much, Joey.”

He groans at the pet name and smiles at you fondly. You’re whispering fucked out praises in his ear as he cleans you up and you cling to him the whole way home. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[quinloki]

Random ass Eustass Kid one shot.

College AU I guess.

Reader just got dumped, no pronouns used. Kid calls ‘em Mouse because I love it when Kid calls the reader Mouse so you’re probably going to see that in Every Single Kid Fic I Ever Write.

SFW, comfort

Cheesy

“You alright?”

The gruff familiar voice crashes over you like rain, and you dry your tears hastily before glancing up at him. You can’t feign contact long though, and look away.

“Yeah.” You say, with a defeated huff.

There’s a pause, and it’s almost awkward. You’ve never known Kid to suffer awkwardness.

“You sure?” He prompts, sitting down beside you. There was no shaking him now, but you weren’t sure you wanted you to.

“Yeah.” You say a little more energetically. “I’ll make it.”

Kid snorts, looking around a little before he rummages in his pack and pulls out a candy bar and a soda. “Anything you want me to deal with?”

You laugh, a sharp barked sound, taking the offered snacks without arguing. You know what kind of help Kid’s good at, and it’s not diplomatic, that’s for fucking sure.

“Nah. It won’t fix it.” You admit, wiping a tear that’s pricked the side of your eye for a different reason.

“Might make ya’ feel better.” He offers, pulling out another soda and opening it for himself.

You smile, the concern is appreciated at least. “It… won’t. Is what it is, I just need to move on.”

“… it woulda made me feel better.” He grouses, and you look over to see his ears are pink.

You look away at the implication and busy yourself with the candy bar for a few long moments. It’s comfortable around him, always has been. He’s just too loud, too proud, too dangerous for you.

It wouldn’t work.

At least that had been what you told yourself when you’d turned him down, picking a different guy to date a few months ago. Kid had warned there wouldn’t be another chance, he wasn’t someone who waited around for a pretty piece of ass. It had almost been a fight between you two, the first real one you maybe ever had.

“I… thought you were gonna move on.” You murmur quietly.

The silence stretched on for long enough you figured that was the end of the conversation. Eustass Kid wasn’t going to dent his pride for someone, no matter who they were. One of the guys maybe, someone who’d been in his life for decades. You could see him pushing aside his pride for Killer or Heat or Wire, if he had no other choice.

Still, it was nice to have someone around while you shrugged off the pieces of a failed relationship. Besides, you wouldn’t risk treating Kid like some rebound.

You shift a little, trying to find the words to say farewell for now, but Kid gets up. A heavy hand ruffles your hoodie against your hair, pushing your head down as you grumble at him.

“When you’re ready to give some flaky loser another shot, Mouse, let me know first.” He says, in a voice that’s trying to sound flippant.

“You’re not a flaky loser,” you retort, scrambling to your feet. “I don’t want you to say that about-!”

Kid turns on his heel suddenly facing you, hand wrapped in your hoodie as he pulls you into a rough kiss.

The action shatters your brain, so sudden and desperate and needy you don’t know what to do but sink into him. The kiss breaks and his eyes are locked on yours, a crooked grin on his face.

“Not how I meant that, Mouse.” He hums, in a voice soft and sure and devastatingly sweet to your ears.

He lets you go, turning and walking away. “Think it over. I’m not stupid enough to let you go if you’re dumb enough to pick me.”

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Not sure if you've seen it but could you please do a Graves siblings x Denji from Chainsaw Man style reader?

I’ve never seen Chainsaw Man, not an anime guy- but reading up the Wiki gave me some idea

Andrew and Ashley Graves x Denji Style!Reader

It’s been said many times your impulsivity and general unawareness would be your downfall

Mostly by old farts who think of you as nothing but street trash

It’s not your fault you never finished high school. Not your fault you never socialized properly as a child.

They can fuck off for all you care

But in this moment…you hated how right they were

Your breathing was staggered, air becoming a commodity as you felt blood fill your lungs. Your body curled up into itself, clutching your stomach. Everything hurt. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to be alive.

Footsteps became distant, leaving you in this cold- trash ridden alley, the pricks taking your wallet- and dignity- with them. Not like they’d find much, you had about 20 bucks to your name. They’ll be back for more eventually.

Most kids got their father’s eyes, some their noses- not you. No. Your father oh so graciously left you with his debt to the fucking mob! Asshole thought putting a new hole in his head would get him out of it, and it did- but all that fell on to you. You swore that as your swollen ear was pressed to the concrete, you could hear the prick laughing from hell.

You were gonna die here. You knew that. At least then the debt will finally be gone, you don’t have a kid to pass it along to and you’re an only child. Maybe they’ll track down your mother?….

You groan in pain, though it’s a pitiful attempt to call for help. No one will come find you. They’ll probably think you’re just some homeless person wallowing in their misery.

You tried to open your eyes, but unfortunately they were both too swollen to accomplish that. Tears pricked the corners and fell down your cheeks- causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt too much to cry, but you couldn’t help but sob as breathing became harder and harder. Your throat swelled in pain, you couldn’t swallow down the blood filling it.

Air slowly left your body as you drifted into unconsciousness….the last thing you remember feeling was a hand on your arm.

By all accounts, you should be dead

You wish you were dead

But god is a sick fuck who kicks around their most pathetic toys for entertainment

And you’re one of his pathetic toys

You slowly came too, the feeling of trash bags no longer cushioning you- but rather an actual cushion.

It smelled of cigarettes, but it was honestly preferred over wet garbage

Your body felt sore, but significantly less bloody

In fact….you were patched up

Poorly, some bandages were loose and some were way too tight- but it was better than exposed wounds that could get infected

You attempted to lift yourself to a sitting position, but the pain was unbearable. Along with that, any motions you continued to make were interrupted by two voices,

“Oh hey- woulda look at that. A zombie.”

“Oh my god!”

You couldn’t even register what was happening before you felt someone at your side. Helping you up was a guy, around your age you estimated, with messy black hair and striking green eyes. He struggled to hold you up and grab a pillow, so he narrowed his eyes over the back of the couch.

“Give me a hand would ya!” It wasn’t so much of a question as a demand.

“God! Alright alright, hang on.”

Shuffling noises became closer, but it was all behind you and it hurt to try and turn to inspect. From what you could hear though, the voice sounded more feminine and significantly more chill about this situation than the guy.

Speaking of which, the guy carefully lowered you on to some pillows, a couple throw ones from the dingy couch and one more fit for a bed. You got a better look at the owner of the feminine voice.

She was shorter than the guy, same messy black hair- only this time tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a soft shade of pink. She stared at you unamused while the guy hovered over you worriedly. It made you anxious. What sucked even more was you didn’t know who these people were, and why you were here! Last you remembered you were dying in an alley! The fuck?!

“Oh shit- uhm-“ the guy bit down on his finger to think, “Fuck what do we do?”

“Beats me,” the woman shrugged, “It was your idea to bring them here.”

“THE FUCK IT WAS”

You flinched at the sudden change of tone.

He pointed a finger at the woman, who stood unphased still, “You are not putting this on me- not again! You had the bright idea of using them for—“ he paused, suddenly remembering your presence. If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve said something, but instead he grabbed the woman by her wrist and led her into the bathroom with her protesting the entire way.

Finally, with your changed seating position and privacy, you could examine where the hell you were. Taking a look around at the peeling wallpaper, stained carpet, and two dingy beds (one surprisingly made despite there being two occupants)- you deduced it was a motel. A motel with very thin walls that allowed you to vaguely pick up on the two’s hushed conversation….

“….lets just ditch them.”

“No! We can’t do that…..might go to the police.”

“Maybe not….they looked like a bum.”

“Ashley!”

“Well? Am I wrong?”

The rest was a back and forth of deciding your fate while you sat by, twiddling your thumbs….or you would if you could move your arms. At least you learned the name of one of your saviors….or captors in this case.

Moments later, the guy and Ashley exited the bathroom- standing before you, one significantly more tense than the other.

“Uhm- sooooo, hi.” The guy started.

“Hey…” your voice was still strained from pain, “Look I heard you two in the bathroom….I won’t tell the cops anything.”

“Yeah, cause you’re not leaving.”

Crickets. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I….” You blinked, “I’m what?”

“See- here’s the thing,” Ashley strode forward, ignoring the guy’s protest, “You’ve seen our faces, and thanks to these thin ass walls you know my name at least. His is Andrew by the way—“

“Ashley!”

“What? I’m not going down alone!” She retorted before turning to you again, “So, you can’t leave.” She sounded a little disappointed.

You blinked, still processing all of this. Did you just get kidnapped?? You took in the figured of your captors, their body languages vastly different. But…in some sick way….this benefited you.

The mob thinks you’re dead. You can’t just walk free now, not in case one of their members finds you alive and reports it back to their boss. And these guys are already on the run from what it seems…

You can work with this.

Andrew Graves

The more comfortable you became to this situation- the more it was apparent you and Ashley were tiring Andrew out

He had grown used to his sister’s impulsivity, but your own was new territory to him

Also a new source of gray hairs…

Honestly, you assumed he hated you

But….despite what he says- you believed Ashley when she told you that bringing you along was his idea

Things still felt tense, just the two of you

And you’re still not entirely convinced he enjoys having you around

But that just made the moments where your brazen antics made him laugh all the more enjoyable

To an extent, Andrew was patient with you

He took care of a lot of the social and book smarts stuff, areas you lacked in

It felt nice having someone take care of it, instead of chastising you to do better

Andrew stared at you in quiet disgust, his elbow rested on the diner’s table. In your run, the three of you decided to stop at this diner to eat. The place was littered with 50’s memorabilia- neon signs, a jukebox, obnoxiously plush booths to sit in. Great if you ignore literally everything about the 50’s!

You had settled next to Andrew, sitting closest to the wall while he took then end. Ashley had seated across from you two, but she had since gone to the bathroom, leaving just you two.

Seated on the table in front of you was an array of sauces, each opened for you to dip your fries into. The concoction of sauces were a mess on your shirt, face, and hands- something Andrew visibly recoiled at.

Andrew scoffed, “Y/N-“ you looked up, “C’mere.”

Reaching over you, Andrew grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the sauce on your face- to which you squirmed at irritably. Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Hold still!” He became a little more aggressive with his cleaning, “God- has anyone ever taught you how to clean yourself!”

You decided to fight back in the only way you could think of, and that was by throwing a sauce covered fry at Andrew. You both paused as the projectile stuck to his sweater before it pathetically peeled on and on to the floor below you two. You blinked. Andrew blinked, then grabbed a fry, and threw it back at your face.

What followed was an in booth fight of several things being thrown: sauces, food, punches- ending with Andrew getting you in a headlock.

“Say it!”

“Never!”

“Fucking say it!” Andrew tightened the headlock as you flailed about.

You wheezed, “Ah! Asshole I can’t breathe!” You tried to pry his arm away, “Fine! Uncle! Uncle!”

With that, he released you- leaving you wheezing as you scooted away. He had that smug grin on his face though, a grin of victory. You flipped him off.

“Dick.” You muttered.

Andrew grabbed a napkin and began cleaning himself off, “You started it friend, I finished it.” He turned to you, pushing his basket of untouched fries to you, “Here. Most of yours are on the floor.”

You looked at him, tentatively reaching your hand for the basket before quickly pulling it to your side- feasting on them like a rabid raccoon. Andrew no longer watched in disgust, but a strange fondness in his eyes.

Ashley Graves

Maybe part of the reason Ashley kept you around was because you went along with her ideas

They were about the same thought process you had, so why not

You two always beat Andrew in votes for how to navigate a problem

And somehow always ended up pushing through it

Maybe she just liked how obedient you were with her

She’s easy on the eyes, and who are you to argue with a pretty woman

She never chastised you for your antics or behavior, but rather rewarded it

“So good Y/N!”, ruffling your hair, squishing your face while cooing all this praise

It felt….nice

So it made you feel terrible whenever it got taken away

Ashley was easy to upset, you learned that

You’d precariously tiptoe the line, and eagerly await the affection when she recovered and liked you again

You wished you never made her upset…

The air felt thick with tension, Ashley’s back turned to you as she looked out the window. It was just the two of you in the backseat of the hitman’s van, Andrew having stopped on the side of the road for a bathroom break. You didn’t know what you did wrong- but it must’ve been something to make her upset with you.

You tentatively reached out a hand, debating whether or not to grab hers. Before you could make the decision, she pulled it away without looking. A small whine arose from the back of your throat, like a hurt dog.

You wish you were a dog sometimes.

A dumb dog who couldn’t mess things up, maybe then she’d love you again.

“Ashley…” your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

“What?” Her voice felt like a knife stabbing at your heart.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you lowered your hand.

Ashley’s body made the slightest movement, “For?”

You tensed. Genuinely, you didn’t know what you did, but it must’ve been something. You gulped, looking down at the floor of the car, “For….” You grimaced as you couldn’t think of anything.

Ashley sighed, turning to face you. Her pink eyes stared into your own, you shrank a little at her glare, “Genuinely- you don’t know what you did?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Ashley sighed, apparently seeing you on the verge of crying was enough for her to open her arms to you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself into her arms- face burying itself into the crook of her neck as you sniffled. You felt her hand tangle itself into your hair, almost petting you.

“There there…” she shushed, “You’re forgiven.”

It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders as she said those words, you held on to her tighter- not wanting to let go. Not wanting to lose the one person who didn’t make you feel stupid or like a burden or annoying or- any of those things.

Ashley made you feel warm. Ashley made you feel good. Ashley is good.

And you want nothing more than to be good for her..

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

Wayne Munson wasn't sure what to expect from Gareth's phone call, but a hole in the roof to what appears to be a reflection of his home covered in vines and extension cords with the sounds of power tools was not it. That's partially untrue; he did have an expectation. He expected to find his traumatized nephew hiding in his bedroom.

"What the fuck," he whispers to himself, staring up at the ceiling. He's seen a lot of weird shit in his time, so he takes a couple of deep breaths before he pulls his eyes away from the hole to head down the hall. Ever fiber in him knows that he's not going to find Eddie in the safety of his room, or the in the bathroom, but instead, through that hole in the ceiling.

Still. He checks just in case.

With no Eddie in sight, Wayne heaves a sigh as he stands below, staring up at the mattress on the floor of his living room, a mirror of the one he is also standing on. It's been a hot minute since he's had to climb any sort of rope but whoever made the sheet rope had the smarts to knot it, so it's not the climb that ends up being difficult. It's the shift in gravity that he wasn't expecting.

He has just enough time to turn enough so he lands on his back instead of his head. Thank God for the mattress, could have been worse, but it still winds him.

He finally gets to his feet just in time for the front door to be ripped open and some boy he doesn't recognize stands ready to throw a hatchet at him.

"Whoa!" Wayne throughs his hands up to show he's unarmed.

"Holy shit," the boy sags, arms dropping, though he's careful with lowering the hand holding the hatchet so Wayne's gotta give him a little respect. Eddie woulda just ended up slashing himself probably. Speaking of Eddie.

"Where's Eddie?"

The hatchet raises again, though the boy takes a stance less like he's going to throw it and more like he's ready to charge forward with it. "Who's asking? How you get here?"

"What's in there, Steve!?" A voice Wayne doesn't recognize calls from somewhere behind the boy.

"This is my home, boy. Or, that is," Wayne points up to the hole and watches the boy as a myriad of emotions cross his face. Wayne watches him back a few steps out the door and look up.

"Eddie! Your dad just dropped through the gate!"

"My dad!?" He hears Eddie- he hears Eddie! Wayne is out the door, crowding into the boy's space, turning to look where the boy was looking. He sees Eddie. Eddie on the roof, a tangle of cables in his hands.

The both just stare at each other for a moment before Wayne barks, "Get your ass down here, son!"

Eddie scrambles into action. The cords get dropped and Eddie vanishes from sight. Wayne hears the sound of him clambering down the side of the trailer. Wayne takes this time to step off the small porch and onto the ground, looking back and forth between the two ends of the trailer, unsure which side Eddie's going to appear from.

"Wayne!" Eddie calls from his right side, and Wayne turns just in time to catch an armful of his nephew.

Wayne sends Steve back through the gate to fetch a backpack he has hidden in a cupboard above the dryer. He was right when he'd told Steve he'd know it when he saw it. Steve's got to climb the dryer to look on the top shelf, but there's only one backpack in the whole cupboard, black, shoved against the back, and bursting at the seams.

Wayne had said it was full of emergency supplies and it looks like he wasn't joking.

He drops back into the Upside Down and finds Wayne waiting in the room. There's thumping on the roof that draws his attention.

"I'm makin' Eddie cover up the vents. He probably woulda gotten around to it 'fore I interrupted earlier, of course, but sometimes ya gotta remind him 'bout things. Thanks, son," Wayne explains and takes the backpack from Steve, turning to place it on the counter beside him and digs into it. He watches as Wayne pulls out a bunch of stuff -rope, flashlights, box of matches, and more- before shuffling out a box with a handle on it, pushing the backpack away to set the box down and flick it open.

Inside is a pistol.

"How long have you had that?" Steve asks.

"A coupla decades," Wayne answers.

"Has it always been in that cupboard?"

"Since I got custody of Eddie in '77."

Steve moves around him, climbing the dryer and opening the cupboard. The same black backpack sits shoved to the back, not stuffed nearly as full at the one he brought through the gate. Steve pulls it out and jumps off the dryer, before setting this backpack down and repeating what Wayne did, pulling out the same handled box. Then he looks up to Wayne, who looks pleased.

"Given what y'all told me, I think two's gonna be better than one. Y'know how to use that, son?"

"No," Steve shakes his head, "but Nancy does. She's got the shotgun, though. Will she need a pistol, too?"

"Dunno. Your mind wizard could pull it from her hands. Best to have a backup. Send her in here."

With a nod, Steve goes to find Nancy and then help finish boarding up the vents.

When Wayne and Nancy emerge from the trailer, they have a new plan. Robin will stay behind and help team distraction, just in case. Wayne's going to be coming with Steve and Nancy. Eddie tries to argue, but a stern look and small speech about how Wayne's not going to let any of "you children" walk into danger shuts Eddie down quick. Wayne's the only one with military training, infiltration training, so it's an obvious choice anyway.

That would have been fine and good, except before they leave, Eddie calls out. Says to make him pay. And Steve doesn't know the Munsons beyond this terrible week, but he does know what a face looks like when filled with grim determination and a willingness to die for someone else. He sees it on Eddie's face. He thinks Wayne sees the same thing he does on Eddie's face.

They make it only a couple of trailers away before Steve has to ask, "you think Eddie will do something stupid?"

"Worse," Wayne says, "I think he'll do something brave."

"I'm switching with Robin," Steve decides.

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to get back at Vecna. For Chrissy," Nancy asks. No accusingly, but curious and concerned.

"Not at the expense of someone else's life. I'm going to switch with Robin. Eddie's not going to be able to overpower me if he wants to try something brave."

Nancy and Wayne nod at him, and Steve jogs back, calling out for Robin when they're closer.

She runs to meet him, "what happened?"

"Nothing. You're going instead."

Robin scans his face, and says, "okay."

Steve gives her his Vecna-fighting equipment, and the backpack of molotov cocktails, and she heads off while Steve moves to the trailer, where Eddie and Dustin are finishing things up and both look surprised to see Steve instead of Robin.

"Steve? Why're you back?" Dustin asks.

He grins. "I've decided I'm no hero. I'd rather be the babysitter."

Lucas can't imagine how this would be playing out if Gareth wasn't here. Gareth was keeping eyes on Erica while Lucas watched Max, and shortly after Max cut off mid-sentence, Gareth had gasped, writing furiously on his notebook and rushing down the stairs as quietly as possible, closing the door behind him.

Lucas grabs the notebook to read it quickly. Someone tackled Erica. Going to investigate.

A short while later Lucas hears the sound of fighting, and even though he wants to go help, he has to wait. Max can't put the headphones on herself and he can't abandon her. He's got to trust that Gareth will figure it out.

Max starts to float, and Lucas is in the process of dragging a chair that looks like it'll support his weight to stand on and get the headphones over her ears when the door flied open and there stands Jason Carver. The sight freezes Lucas in place.

"What the fuck!?" Carver says, and it's then that Lucas sees the gun he has. Where's Erica? Where's Gareth? He didn't hear a gunshot but-

"AAH!" Gareth yells as he barrels up the stairs. Jason turns, and Lucas takes a step towards them but Gareth shouts, "MAX!" and Lucas is back on task. He climbs the chair and places the headphones on Max, pressing plays and making sure the volume is up as loud as possible before stuffing the walkman in the pocket of her hoodie.

Lucas doesn't know what happens, but he hears the gunshot and then the sound of someone crashing down the stairs. He looks quickly to see that Gareth is the one of the top of the stairs.

"Holy shit!" Lucas yelps, jumping off the chair. The noise makes Gareth turn around, startled. "Holy shit." Lucas repeats, because there is blood spreading quickly across Gareth's shirt.

"I think he shot me," Gareth says, quiet and scared, before he slumps to the floor.

Lucas doesn't know what to do, he needs to go call an ambulance but Max could still be in danger-

"Holy shit, is Jason dead!?" Erica screams from the floor below and Lucas shouts back, "Go call an ambulance, he shot Gareth!"

Erica doesn't say any more but he can hear her running away. He rushes to Gareth and rolls him over before pulling his own shirt up and off to press against the bullet hole.

Max drops, and it's a rough landing, but she's cursing about it so she's not dead. It'll be fine that she's mad at him for not catching her, especially if it means Gareth doesn't bleed to death instead.

[marvel-ous-m]

Closer to Fine

AO3 Link

TWs: PTSD, Panic Attack, Somewhat-unhealthy coping mechanism (Steve snaps a hair tie against his wrist)

Steve walks away from the final battle with a handful of scars, a new pair of glasses, and a diagnosis of PTSD.

At least, that’s what his government-assigned therapist says. He’d explained the feeling he gets when he thinks of the Upside Down. How everything around him slows and he can’t focus on the current moment. How the only cure seems to be curling up under his duvet in his room, his back pressed against his bedroom wall while he stares at the wall across from him and waits for some predetermined obligation to pull him out of his stupor.

He described how he felt like he was somewhere else while his body went through the motions. How his body became his armor, and how he only came back to himself when his brain finally realized there was no immediate threat- that the portals were closed, Vecna was dead, everyone was alive, safe, healthy.

When Steve finally came out of that mindset, everything around him usually felt like too much and he would find the smallest place possible (the backseat of his car, the corner of his closet, under his bed) to curl up and cry until he finally felt like himself again.

Then something would happen (a ‘trigger,’ his therapist said), and the cycle would start over.

Turns out that facing inter-dimensional monsters four times over in just under four years really does a number on your brain.

Huh. Who woulda guessed.

His therapist gives him some helpful coping mechanisms. Some are meant to ground him: to count to 30 and take even breaths, square breathing, finding the nearest paper to write down his feelings, to try and see 5 things and hear 4 things and- y’know, however else the rest goes.

She also suggests finding a friend to help him when he’s in an episode, or distracting himself with hobbies he enjoys.

Steve opts for the ‘shock’ methods more times than not. His therapist tells him they’re effective in the moment and fast-acting, but that they won’t do as much for his long-term mental health. Still, Steve’s always been one to focus on fixing the problem that’s happening in the moment so he can move on to the next one, so he sticks one of Robin’s old hair ties around his wrist and snaps it as hard as he can whenever he finds his mind running down the path that causes him to feel all space-y and detached.

It works for him.

Until it doesn’t.

Because hair ties can break apparently. Right in the middle of a lonely Tuesday afternoon shift at Family Video. When Steve is caught in the middle of a flashback.

He tries his best to recall the other methods that his therapist taught him. Square breathing- fuck, was it four seconds each side or seven? How many things was he supposed to see and how many was he supposed to hear?!

He ends up on the floor behind the counter, back pressed against the candy display and legs against his chest, his glasses set aside, and his forehead pressed against his knees. He can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can only remember what it feels like to be strangled by the tail of a Demobat and-

-he’s going to die here. Alone at his shit job. Robins going to find him when her shift starts in an hour and she’s going to have a breakdown and he won’t be there to fix it because he’ll be the cause of it, he’ll be the source of more of Robin’s trauma, just like he was back at Scoops, and-

Suddenly there’s a hand against his back, rubbing comforting circles in a way that seems to melt some of the panic away. There are brown curls tickling his hands, barely visible through the strands of Steve’s hair that have flopped in front of his eyes. Then there’s a voice-

“Deep breaths, Steve. In and out. You’re at work, at Family Video. It’s Tuesday, the 14th of October, 1986. It’s uh- 2pm? No, 2:10. My watch is slow.” Steve’s identified the mystery panic-attack-savior as Eddie. If it weren’t the long brown curls or the feeling of his rings through Steve’s work vest and polo that did it, it became evident by the small chuckle Eddie gave after he mentioned that his watch was broken.

Eddie’s laugh: high-pitched, at times a little manic… there was something about it that was just…

Comforting.

Safe.

Steve was safe.

Steve lifts his head from his knees then, taking in Eddie’s worried expression, and is pulled into a bone-crushing hug almost instantly. Steve would usually pull away, too embarrassed to be held by someone in public, but…

He’s tired. He’s hurting. The vestiges of a flashback are still holding his brain hostage. So, he says ‘fuck it’ and he holds Eddie right back, burying his head in Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie runs a gentle hand through his hair and down the length of his back, then does it again, and again, until Steve lets go of the tears welling behind his eyes, and allows himself to cry. Eddie murmurs comforting reminders- ‘you’re safe’ and ‘I’ve got you’ fall like a blanket over Steve’s shoulders, and he feels some of the weight of his waking nightmare roll off his back.

Eventually the tears cease. Robin hasn’t interrupted them yet, so Steve figures that he couldn’t have been wrapped in Eddie’s arms for that long- her shift starts at 3, so if she isn’t here yet, it’s been less than an hour.

Small mercies.

Steve pulls back a bit, and Eddie shifts so that they’re both sitting against the back of the counter, legs touching. “How are you feeling?”

Steve sniffs, running a hand over his face. He shrugs, trying to manifest an explanation for the exhaustion suddenly overpowering his body and the numb feeling seeping into his bones, but he comes up empty-handed.

Eddie hums, putting a comforting hand on Steve’s knee. “I get them too. Panic attacks. Flashbacks. It helps if someone is touching me- grounds me, y’know? That’s what my therapist says. Wayne’s usually the one to figure out that I’m all…” Eddie trails off, then waves a hand in front of his face awkwardly. “Stuck. Or whatever. Anyways- I uh, hope I didn’t overstep. That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t know what works for you, and- “

Steve moves his hand to rest over Eddie’s, shooting him a gentle smile. “That helped.”

Eddie smiles back at him, using his free hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Steve’s ear. “I’m glad.” Eddie’s smile grows ever-so-slightly, his dimples making an appearance, once he finishes adjusting Steve’s hair. “There. Can’t have your hair looking anything less than perfect, can we big boy?”

Steve blushed, ducking his head down with a shy smile at Eddie’s teasing. Eddie was just… ugh. He didn’t have words. But the butterflies he always got when Eddie was around? Those were definitely making an appearance.

“I usually get pretty tired after a panic attack. Apparently, it’s like… something to do with adrenaline? I guess what I’m trying to say is- when do you finish your shift? We should probably get you home, sooner rather than later.”

Steve nods, moving to adjust his glasses- a nervous gesture he’d picked up over the last few months- when he realizes that they aren’t on his face. Steve glances up to search for them and Eddie’s there, again, holding them out with a playful smile. “Looking for these, sweetheart?”

Steve blushes again, mutters out a ‘thank you’, and shoves them on his face. “Three- that’s when Robin gets in. Keith only staffs one at a time on Tuesdays and Wednesdays because they’re the slowest days of the week.”

Eddie hums and checks his watch, then grins when a chime rings through the shop. “That’s what I call perfect timing.” Eddie gets to his feet and holds a hand out for Steve, hoisting him up when Steve takes his hand.

Robin looks at them both from her place by the front door, eyebrow raised. “Umm. Should I be congratulating the two of you?”

Steve blinks in confusion, opening his mouth to question Robin, but is cut off by Eddie’s nervous rambling.

“Nope- no, uh, Steve- well, um, I came in to get a movie and Steve was having a panic attack. He’s fine now! We were just sitting behind the counter to uh- y’know. Calm down. Yeah.” Eddie pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Robin hummed and reached into her purse, pulling out a hair tie with a soft smile. She circled the counter and pulled Steve into a tight hug, pressing the hair tie into his palm. “Get some rest, Stevie.”

Steve stared down at the orange band in his hand, blinking in surprise. How did she know?

“Don’t need to worry about that, Birdie. I’m gonna take Steve home on my way to ye-olde-government-purchased-apology-housing.” Eddie winked at Robin, making the younger woman roll her eyes and shove Eddie’s shoulder.

“Ugh. Get out of here. Abandon me to face a night of rewinding tapes and fighting boredom all on my own.”

“You got it, Buckley!” Eddie responded playfully and wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders, leading him out of the Family Video to his van parked out front.

Steve climbed into the passenger seat, frowning at the orange band now wrapped around his wrist.

“I figure I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning before your shift and drive you back here, your precious car should be safe here overnight.” Eddie winked at Steve as he turned the key in the ignition, then put the car in reverse. He frowned when he noticed Steve’s expression and switched to ‘drive’, pulling out of the Family Video parking lot. “Penny for your thoughts, darlin’?”

Steve sighed, running a finger over the hair tie. “I just… I wear a hair tie, right? When I get a flashback or uh- a trigger. I snap it against my wrist, and it helps. I just… I thought I hid it, but Robin…”

Eddie hummed, moving his right hand to wrap around Steve’s left. “She pays attention. She loves you, Steve.”

Steve looked down at Eddie’s hand, noticing two hair ties around his wrist. Steve moved his free hand to rest on top of Eddie’s and ran thumb over both of the dark brown bands. Eddie glanced over, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

“You pay attention too, Eddie.” Eddie’s grip tightened on Steve’s hand, the man smiling to himself.

“Yeah, Steve. ‘Course I do. I always will.”

I love you.

The admission was written between the lines, implied in Eddie’s tone, but to Steve, it was as clear as day.

Steve smiled, moving his hand to play with Eddie’s rings. His fingers paused on a small ring Eddie kept wrapped around his pinkie, a mood ring that Steve had won one summer night when the entire party went to the arcade together. Steve had playfully presented it to Eddie, and even though it was child-sized, Eddie figured out a way to make it fit.

It was blue.

“I pay attention to you too, Eds. Always will.”

Eddie’s hand squeezed his again, a silent acknowledgement of what Steve had left unsaid.

They would talk about it later. When Steve wasn’t so tired and emotionally charged. When Eddie wasn’t so focused on making sure Steve was alright. But in that moment, wrapped in the comforting presence that came naturally with being around Eddie, Steve knew everything would be just fine.

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

Author's Note:

Blue mood rings mean that you feel calm/peaceful/romantic so there ya go. I also think Robin is way too fun for plain hair ties, so she would only have rainbow colored ones. Eddie would probably want to hide his, which is why they're his hair color. (Eddie keeps two so that, if he ever has to tie up his hair, he can still have one for Steve).

Work title is from Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls. I wrote this, then realized it kinda reminded me of the song :)

I have diagnosed PTSD and went through a triggering event today that caused a panic attack, which spurred my writing this! Steve's PTSD pretty much presents the same as mine. For me, writing helps to process everything, which is why I ended up writing this! (If you were wondering I'm feeling much better)

Thanks so much for reading!!

[aurorawritestoescape]

A Villain’s Monologue

Pairing: serial killer!Joel Miller x f!reader

18+ DEAD DOVE!!! Heed the warnings!

Tw: dead dove, non-con, allusions to smut, mentions of SA, mentions of death, bondage, gagging, swearing

Word count: 650

A/n: if you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! I don’t condone the actions of the character. It is all fictional!

——————————————————————————

Silly girl… You really thought you’d be the one to get me? Have some balls on you; I’ll give you that. Sneakin’ into my home like that... snoopin’ around. What were you tryin’ to find, Nancy Drew? Some kind of evidence—an earring, a set of teeth?? Haha... I’d never keep anythin’ like that. I’m not dumb! Been doing it for what now? Hmm, 7 years? Haven’t been caught. Not even suspected…

Oh! A cop came over once to ask about that girl. What was her name? Melissa, Melody? Fuck it, doesn’t matter. Real pretty, gave it to her good. She was beggin’ me to fuck her. Yeah, choke me, daddy! She’d been enjoying herself, for sure. Well… until…

And that cop...See, I’m Joel fuckin’ Miller! A single dad, thanks to that bitch! A workin’ man, always charmin’, nice. I showed all my concern! No, officer, I haven’t seen her around. Yes, of course I’ll join the search party. Damn it was fun being the only one to know we’d never find her in those woods.

And you, baby. Ugh! How long have you been suspecting me? Sorry, forgot you’re gagged. I bet it’s since that night. Did you hear her scream? Right? Nod if I’m right, slut?! Yeah, that bitch was loud. It’s a pity you couldn’t just forget about it. Look the other way. Began stalking me, got so fuckin’ close! I’m the one who stalks, sweetheart.

Remember that night when I caught you in the alley behind the bar. Were you followin’ me and that chick? Did you think I was gonna…? Nah, she had similar hair to Her, but… somethin’ was off. Lost interest. But you! Fuck, you were hot. Scared shitless. Did you think I was gonna kill you? Strangle, like all of them? No. You look nothing like her. You were safe. Well…woulda been safe if you hadn’t begun your sleuthin’.

A pity, really. Been such a good playthin' for daddy. That first time. Your heart was beatin’ so fast, like a little bird’s, flutterin’ under my fingers. Felt it when I was gropin’ your tits. Hell, I love ‘em. Look at you! Tied up and helpless. Want me to play with your tits? If I just slide my dick between them like this, shhh! Sit still! I’m sure I could come just fuckin' your boobs, sweetheart. My cum on your beautiful face. Here. I’ll make you eat it all up, every drop. Shhh, stop flinchin’! Don’t be shy on me all of a sudden.

You’re such a slut. Came all over my cock in that dark alley. Your neighbour, your dad’s friend, made you moan like a filthy whore. Still can see my cock slidin’ in and out of your tight cunt. Ah, the sounds! Fuck, you were so wet. You bitches are always so wet for me.

But you just had to go and ruin all of it. Have you been snoopin’ around for a long time? Since you started comin’ here, so I’d fuck you? Began noticing it. You’d ask hella weird questions. What do you have in the basement, Joel? Where do you go after work, Joel? Haha. Cute. I thought, "Well, even if you suspect somethin’. You have nothin’ on me.” Just your pretty mouth on my dick. Haha… You give a mean blowie baby. Pity really.

Today you really pissed me off. Breakin’ in like that? What if Sarah were here?! You’d scare her to death! I should’ve dealt with you the moment I found you in my bedroom. Well… maybe it’s for the best… Should daddy play with you one last time? Your last time… yeah, I’ll bend you over that table, ruin your little hole. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you come and soak my dick real good. Gagged, tied up—just how I like you, sluts. Promise you, you’ll enjoy your last minutes.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,145 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: language, sexuality, nothing else really in this one but get ready for the next one haha A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 8 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List! Summary: Alexandria tries to figure out how to survive. Daryl and Y/N explore their closeness and keep filling in the gaps of their lives. Daryl and DJ bond some more.

Previous Chapter - Part 7

“Except for losin’ you, it was the lowest I’ve ever been, I think… Every fuckin’ day I thought ‘bout givin’ up. Woulda been easier to,” Daryl drawled softly. You were tucked in against him with his arm around you, your hand resting on his bare chest, head on his shoulder, looking up through your lashes at him. His fingers were trailing over the bare skin on your shoulder and your upper arm. “When I was in there,” he paused, wondering if he should even tell you this, “I—I was hallucinatin’ at one point. I dunno if it was the lack of sleep, or dehydration, or hunger but—” He gulped. “I saw ya in there. In the cell with me—crystal clear as if I could reach out and touch you.”

You leaned up on your elbow, your eyes wide and sad and striking. “Daryl…” There were tears in them.

“I just remember askin’ ya where ya were… Screamin’ it. I just wanted to know where ya were…” he trailed off. A shadow fell over his face for a moment, before he grabbed your hand that was resting on his chest and held it gently in his, his thumb moving over the back of it. This grounded him in this moment instead of in the torture he was reliving as he told you. You were still looking at him sorrowfully. You could hardly believe what he’d been through. They’d fed him fucking dog food. He’d been beaten and starved… humiliated. You felt sick. You saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth together. He finally looked over and caught your eyes again. “You’re the reason I didn’t give up. I just—I still believed ya were alive and out there… somewhere.”

You sighed, pain aching in your chest, that canyon created by your worry and sadness wedged between your eyebrows. You’d spent the last couple hours going through so much of it, just talking, but you knew there was far more. The thick scar on his leg, the “X” that looked like a brand burned into his back... more. A lot more. And that was just him. You hadn’t even talked about any of your darkest moments. You figured he’d read about them soon enough in your journal. “The next time I see Negan, I’m gonna punch him in the face.”

Daryl actually chuckled. “I’d like to see that actually. But if he talks to ya again, I’ll probably beat ya to it. He ain’t the same as he was but…” He shook his head.

You leaned up and kissed him, brushing away his hair from his forehead. You placed another kiss near his jaw.

You’d been surprised when you woke up that Daryl was still asleep with you in his arms. He was usually the earliest riser. You’d been unable to resist placing a gentle kiss on his jawline then too, and he had stirred immediately, blinking open his bright blue eyes and tightening his arm around you. “Part of me thought this was all gonna be a dream I’d wake up from today,” he’d said, his fingertips dimpling into your softness.

You’d shaken your head, giving him a sleepy smile, your fingers splaying out on his chest. “Nope,” you’d said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You ran your fingers through his wavy brown hair and he leaned into the touch of your fingertips. You chewed your bottom lip nervously for a moment before speaking what was on your mind. “Daryl?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, hardly moving, and certainly not opening his eyes. He was that comfortable with you tucked in against, stroking his hair. It was like a dream.

“Did you ever—” you broke off, and Daryl sensed perhaps some stress in your voice, because now he did open his eyes and looked right at you. You bit your bottom lip nervously. “Did you ever tell her about me?”

“Leah?” he asked, though it wasn’t necessary. Daryl gulped and felt an unpleasant tightness in his chest, as if someone was tightening a belt around his diaphragm or pushing a weight down onto his lungs. He avoided your eyes as if he still felt guilty over this other relationship despite the fact that you’d tried to relieve him of any such notion. He nodded. “I did. But I also didn’t…”

You leaned up on your elbow. Curiosity tugged at your brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I had the tattoo already. She asked me about it. I told her that I’d lost you. She knew—I mean, she could tell that it was—that you were—” He struggled to find the right words. He finally gave up and just cleared his throat. “But I never told her anythin’ else. I dunno why really…” His hand drifted up to your bare shoulder and his index finger drew absent circles on it. “It just felt—sacred.”

Your heart ached at his words and you leaned up and kissed him softly, the pillow of your lips against his as light as a breeze. You felt his blue eyes on you and now he was the one who looked at you with a questioning glance. “Hmm?” you prompted him, sliding your fingers down another wavy strand of his brown hair. It was soft and shiny from your shower together the night before.

“What’re we gonna do about the kids?” he asked. “I mean—‘bout DJ mostly? Are we gonna tell him that we—uhh… are we—?”

This almost made you laugh. “Together?” you finished for him. He nodded. “What do you want?”

His eyes flickered over your face for a moment. The early morning light had the halo of fly-aways around your face glowing. “I dun ever want this to end,” he said softly.

You smiled at him, small at first and then growing and blooming like petals opening in the daylight. You were staggering—how much light you still contained. “Me neither,” you agreed. “But about DJ—mmm,” you nodded thoughtfully, leaning against his broad chest. “I think we need to take it slow. It’s been a lot lately—losing our home, finding Maggie, finding his dad, all these new people, a new community… I want the two of you to build a bond naturally, you know? Day by day.”

Daryl nodded in agreement. “Me too. Alrigh’. But, uhh—I’mma have a hard time keepin’ my hands off ya, too,” he drawled. You grinned at him.

“Same.”

He suddenly swept you over so you were caged beneath him again. You let out a surprised laugh and draped your arms around his neck. He was just kissing along your collarbone when you both heard a distinctive bark outside and then a knock on the front door.

“Ah, shit,” Daryl murmured, pulling back and hanging his head. “S’Maggie and the kids.” He hastily climbed out of bed and tugged on his pants. You slipped out from under the sheets and he tossed your clothes to you, before grabbing his own shirt and pulling it on.

Another loud knock. “Daryl?” Maggie’s voice came through the front door.

“Comin’!” Daryl called out. You started to make a dash for the room you’d been sharing with DJ but Daryl caught you around the waist in the doorway and pulled you in for one last deep kiss. You smiled up at him, a little lightheaded almost, before darting down the hall.

Daryl unlocked and tugged open the door. Maggie was there with RJ, Jude, DJ, and Hershel, giving him a curious look. “Everythin’ okay?” she asked.

Daryl nodded, avoiding her eyes, feeling his face and chest flush involuntarily. He wondered if she could sense that something had happened between the two of you. Was that the real reason why’d she’d suggested he patch you up and the kids stay put last night? To give the two of you some more time alone? Hmm. If she had been that devious or clear-sighted, he ought to fucking thank her. “Yeah. Good. All good,” Daryl drawled, scruffing a hand through his hair.

Maggie nodded. “How’s Y/N doin’?”

“Uhh—oh. Yeah, she’s fine. Got her all—all fixed up last night.” And then some. “Gash on her arm didn’t need stitches. Should heal fine,” Daryl nodded. “We were just gettin’ ready to head up to the meetin’ house,” he said, avoiding Maggie’s eyes again, still afraid she’d be able to see what had happened somehow. Dog barked happily and came bursting into the house, pushing past Daryl followed by a stampede of the kids. He managed to give DJ’s shoulder a fond squeeze as he ran by and he looked up from beneath his wavy hair and smiled. “Hey! Where’s my hug?” he called after the others. Jude and RJ circled back and Daryl knelt down to grab them into his arms. “Missed you,” he said, smiling at them.

“Missed you!” they both said back, smiles on their faces and light in their brown eyes. It warmed Daryl through and through.

“Alrigh’, go on in and play,” Daryl drawled, ruffling RJ’s hair.

“Is Aunt Y/N still here?” Jude asked, her brown eyes big and bright.

“Mhm, she’s right inside,” Daryl said, pointing toward the hallway. DJ was already headed straight toward you. You met him halfway, now in a fresh change of clothes.

“Mom!” he called, hurrying to accept the hug you were offering with a broad smile on your face.

You squeezed him tight and breathed in his smell. “Oh, I missed you. How are you? Alright?” He nodded, and then noticed the bandage on your arm. “Oh—it’s just a little cut. Nothing to worry about,” you said, catching his expression. “Sleep okay? Have fun?” He nodded.

Judith and RJ came bounding up behind DJ grinning. “Are you alright?” Judith asked, eyeing the bandage now too.

“Completely fine,” you reassured her. “Daryl fixed it up for me as good as new.” She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“How did the supply run go? Did you find some food for everyone?” she asked.

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “We did. And we all came back safe and sound, so I’d say that’s a good trip, yeah?”

“How much food did you find?” Judith still seemed worried.

You gave her a long look and then reached for her hand with both of yours and smoothed it between them. “Are you worrying about that?” you asked her gently, a rhetorical question. You could see it in her eyes. “We found enough for now. And we’ll go find more.”

She glanced over at RJ, who had run off to play with Dog in the living room. DJ had gone into the spare room to change into some clean clothes. “But that means you and Uncle Daryl will have to leave again. And Aunt Maggie and probably more. And we just got you and Aunt Maggie back.”

Your heart was breaking in your chest. You nodded again. “Yeah, I know. And we wish we didn’t have to leave so much. But once we get this place up and running again, things will be better. You’ll see.”

Judith ducked her head a little, adjusting the sheriff’s hat that had been Carl’s and her dad’s before that. “Everyone leaves… and what if no one ever comes back?”

“Oh, Judith.” You opened your arms for a hug and she leaned right in and you squeezed her extra tight. “I’m so sorry about your mom and dad. I miss them too. I was hoping to find them here with all of you.” You pulled back just enough to look into her sad brown eyes. “But me finding all of you after all this time should tell you that they aren’t gone forever. And I just know they are doing everything they can to get back here to you and your brother. It’s okay to be sad about it, or mad, or lost, or sometimes to feel nothing at all. But I know you’ve got so many people here who love you and would do absolutely anything for you and RJ. Including me.”

Judith managed a small smile for you and you were relieved to see how it brightened her face.

Daryl appeared at the end of the hall, and you didn’t know he’d seen and heard the whole exchange you’d just had with Judith. His chest was aching, but at the same time he felt filled with a wholesome warmth that had been previously rare in this life, but was becoming commonplace now since having found you again. “Ya ready?” he drawled.

“Yeah,” you said standing up. “Let me just say bye to DJ fast. You’ll all be okay here for a bit?” you asked Jude, and she nodded. You went down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. “DJ? I’m heading out for a bit, just up the street, okay?” The door opened and there he was, his hair a little wild with static since he’d just pulled a different shirt on.

“Are you gonna tell me about the supply run? About what happened to your arm?” he asked, his expression quite serious.

You nodded slowly. “Sure. If you really want.” He nodded again. “Okay. It’ll have to wait until after I get back though, alright? Gimme another hug.” He obliged and you kissed the top of his head before he flitted off to rejoin everyone out in the living room.

Soon, you and Daryl were accompanying Maggie up the street to the meeting house. Hershel had stayed back at Daryl’s. Judith’s worry and DJ’s grim question were on your mind. “When did they turn into such—little people, you know?” you asked, glancing over at Daryl. “Worrying about this place, worrying about us just like we worry about them,” you said.

Maggie nodded her agreement. “I don’t know. But I guess it means we’ve taught them right,” she drawled in her sweet southern accent. “Though I know we all wish they didn’t have to worry about anything.”

The core of Alexandria’s leadership was already gathered inside the meeting house when the three of you arrived. The mood was tense as Gabriel explained that all the MREs you’d managed to procure from the military base would only last one week. Considering the close call it had been, it was like a slap in the face.

You swore under your breath and leaned forward on your hands on the table in front of you. Daryl shifted beside you, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his posture stiff. He wished more than anything that he could just reach for you, rest his hand on the small of your back, but this was all too new, too precious still for him to do that so blatantly in front of everyone. “That’s it? A week?” he drawled, disappointment and anxiety increasing the gruff quality to his deep voice.

Gabriel nodded.

“We can make it work,” Aaron said, though you noted that he looked thoroughly worried too.

Carol voiced her skepticism, and you had to agree with her. You straightened up and shook your head. “We don’t have time for the usual solutions,” you said. “We need a windfall of food and we need it now. We need it yesterday.” You locked eyes with Maggie and Daryl caught onto it immediately.

“What?”

“I know where we can find food, and a lot of it. The place we lived before this. Meridian. It’s got plenty of food, water, crops, and animals. Backstock. All of it.”

“Yeah, and now it’s gone,” Elijah said.

You shook your head, your gaze still fixed down toward the rough wood table in front of you. “It’s not gone. Not exactly. At least, not in the same way that my home, Fox Hollow, is.”

The trauma behind your words hit Daryl as if he was permeating the air around you, like it was bleeding out from you. He tried to study your expression more closely but it was difficult to read your profile.

Maggie sighed heavily. There was a tense moment before Rosita asked the question on everyone’s minds.

“So, what happened out there?”

Your eyes shut for a long moment and then you murmured a quiet “excuse me,” and headed for the door to step outside into the open air for a moment. Carol straightened up as if to go after you and Daryl did the same, on his feet first, but Maggie stopped them. “It’s alright. She just needs a second. She’ll be alright.” Maggie had, of course, already heard you recount the fall of your home several times. But that didn’t mean it got any easier.

And then came the story of how Meridian had fallen to The Reapers. Its people—slaughtered.

“What exactly happened to Y/N’s community, Fox Hollow she called it?” Carol asked. “She made it sound—worse somehow, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

You were coming back in as Carol asked it. You seemed steady again and Daryl gave you a glance as if to ask if you were okay. You nodded and resumed your place next to him, standing at the table again. “My people weren’t caught off-guard in quite the same way Maggie’s were. We had scouts who had seen some sign of these Reapers in the days before they showed up, not that we knew exactly who or what they were after... In fact, one of our scouts had gone missing. We were ready for something, but we didn’t know exactly what was coming. We’d doubled the watch and taken more precautions. Stocked ammunition at the guard posts and the walls. They came. My people fought.” Your eyes shut for a moment again as you steeled yourself against the images wanting to surge forward in your mind’s eye. “Those people—they burned everything to the ground, destroyed the walls to get inside, killed everyone, and took what we had. But they couldn’t stay there. There was nothing left to live in by the time it was over. I don’t think that was their original plan. They didn’t expect a fight. So, instead, they took all the supplies and looked for a new place to take.” “Meridian,” Maggie said, nodding. “Though we’re not sure exactly how much time there was between the two.”

“How’d you survive?” Aaron asked you, amazement on his face mixed with deep empathy.

A far-off look grew in your eyes and they were blurred with tears you had to blink away. “Luck. DJ and I had been out on a hunting trip, pretty far away. It had been his choice to go. Otherwise, we’d probably be dead too. We came back and—Fox Hollow was gone. Everything was gone.” Your voice sounded haunted. There was no other word for it.

“They’re at Meridian now. We just need to take it back,” Maggie said. The faces around the room were grim.

Rosita shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Maggie, this sounds like a suicide mission.”

You were leaned back against one of the pillars now, your jaw set. “Anyone have a better idea?” The silence was deafening. “We aren’t asking anyone to go who doesn’t want to. Aaron’s right too, Alexandria does need people here to help it hang on until we can get back. But this plan is the way we make it until we can rebuild. It’s the way we make it past next week.” You stood up with your feet firmly planted. “So, I’m in.”

Daryl was on his feet next. “Me too. Anybody else?” There were more than you expected. Only Carol, Rosita, and Aaron wanted to stay behind. And you couldn’t blame them.

After the meeting disbanded, you walked back to Daryl’s. He stayed close beside you and you could feel that something had shifted and a weight was on his shoulders again that hadn’t been there since you’d kissed him the night before. Maggie and Carol walked alongside you both. You discussed preparations for leaving. Carol said she’d look after the kids while you were away, and for that you were grateful. You knew she’d protect them with her life if it came to it.

Daryl looked particularly grim after Maggie and Carol had departed and the two of you were alone again in the kitchen of his little townhouse. That weight you’d noticed was practically dragging him toward the floor now. The two of you were standing in the kitchen alone. The kids had taken Dog outside for some exercise, giving the two of you a few moments to talk. Daryl was leaned back against the counter with his blue eyes fixed on you across the small space.

“I can see you thinking it,” you said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“You want to tell me to stay here, just like you did with the supply run to the base.”

Daryl ducked his head and gulped at the tightness in his throat. Of course he wanted you to stay here. He knew for a fact that with this mission they were heading straight back into a potential shitstorm of danger and death. He’d seen how these people operated in the woods that day when you’d found each other again. “I just keep thinkin’ that if somethin’ goes wrong, which seems goddamn likely, the kids could lose a lot of us. DJ could lose both of us.” The uneasiness on his face was plain. It was bordering on fear.

You sighed and he watched your lips tighten into a thin line for a brief moment. “If something goes wrong, in all likelihood most of our people back here are gonna starve. Including our kids, our son.” Daryl felt a jolt like electricity at those words. Our son. “I’m not staying behind. I’m going along to do every damn thing I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines of this one.” You crossed the kitchen to him and your hands landed on his sides lightly. “And the last thing I want right now is to be separated from you.” Your eyes searched his face. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m not doing that by choice, not for something like this. We do this together. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Daryl felt a burst of heat in the center of his chest that slowly crept upwards toward his face. “I dun want that either. I just got ya back. But—” he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “—I want ya safe too. Or at least safer. And these assholes—sounds like they kill first and ask questions later.”

You nodded gravely, but your expression was strong and determined. “They do. That’s why I’m going.”

Daryl sighed. You were resolved. He nodded. “Alright. If tha’s the way it is, tha’s the way it is.”

You clasped his face with one hand, your thumb moving lightly over his jawline, and one corner of your mouth twitched up slightly. The effect was a sad sort of smile. “It’s gonna be okay.” It came out in a whisper.

Daryl gulped and you felt his hand alight on your hip. The other landed gently on the graceful curve of your neck. His eyes flitted over your face for a moment and then he leaned in and found his lips softly with yours. You could somehow feel his anxiety and his yearning in that kiss… You gave way beneath him softly, melting under his touch, and Daryl only wanted to keep you safe all the more desperately. The thought of this disappearing from him after having just found it again was almost unbearable, almost paralyzing.

You pulled back and just then there was a stampede of feet in through the front door, accompanied by the tapping of Dog’s paws. You smiled at him now, and it warmed him, lessened the sick feeling that had remained in the pit of his stomach despite your reassurances that everything would be fine.

Daryl straightened up as RJ burst in through the kitchen doorway and ran to hug Daryl around the middle. You grinned at the scene and Daryl committed that to memory—you in that little kitchen of his, grinning. DJ came in next and gave you and Daryl a smile that reminded you of Daryl’s; no teeth showing, but that curve of the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I gotta go check out that truck Aaron mentioned. We can at least take a vehicle part of the way,” he drawled. You nodded.

“Alright. I’ll make myself useful around here,” you said.

“Can I come?” DJ asked, directing the question at Daryl.

“Ya wanna? Would be good to have some help. Ya know yer way ‘round a tool box or an engine?” he drawled, a small smile on his face at DJ’s desire to spend time with him again.

DJ shrugged. “Not really. But I’m a fast learner. Can I, Mom?” he asked, glancing at you eagerly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Of course,” you said, smiling. You kissed the top of his head. “Just stick with Daryl, okay?” DJ nodded.

The two of them set out down the sidewalk, side by side, and you watched them from the window until they disappeared around the corner. Jude and RJ were coloring in the living room with Dog lying beside them on the floor. You meandered down to the spare room and picked through you and DJ’s meager belongings. You really needed to track down some more clothes for the two of you.

“I’m gonna pop next door to see Carol, okay?” you said to Judith and RJ. “You guys good to hang here for a bit?” Judith nodded. “Okay. Don’t go off anywhere without telling someone, alright?” She nodded again and then went back to her drawing.

Just a block or so away, Daryl and DJ arrived at Aaron’s where the truck in question was sitting half in the garage. “Alrigh’,” Daryl drawled, walking around and opening the driver’s side door to pop the hood latch. There was a metallic clunk noise and he returned to stand in front of the grill beside DJ. “Well, open it up,” Daryl said, a half-smile on his face. Daylight’s burnin.”

DJ gripped the hood and lifted, but it caught on the latch still, as Daryl knew it would. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he tried again to the same effect. “There’s still a latch hooked,” Daryl explained, feeling with his fingers under the edge and finding the flat metal piece. “Right here. Ya gotta push it to the side and then lift. Feel it?”

DJ felt for the latch, followed Daryl’s instructions, and the hood rose up and stayed propped open. Daryl pulled over a 5 gallon bucket and DJ stepped onto it so he could better look into the engine compartment. “Yer mom never taught ya ‘bout hood latches? About engines?”

DJ shook his head. “We haven’t used cars or trucks much,” he explained. “Seems like we walk everywhere. Or—” he broke off suddenly, looking sad.

“Hmm?” Daryl asked, leaning on one elbow on the edge of the engine compartment.

“Well, we—we had horses… for a while. At home,” he explained.

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed. “‘M sorry. We used to have some here. They’re gone now too.” DJ nodded. “Yer mom never was great with mechanical stuff anyway,” Daryl went on, a fond smile on his face. “I taught her enough to get by when I could but—I don’t think she liked it much,” he said with a laugh. “But somebody should teach ya. I’ve got an important job for ya,” he said, changing the subject. “Hold this flashlight for me so I can see in this damn thing.” Daryl clicked on a sturdy silver flashlight and handed it to DJ. “Point it right here. See this? This is where the oil dipstick is. That’s how we check the oil level. Too much or not enough oil can be big trouble,” Daryl explained, pulling the dipstick free, wiping it on a spare rag, and replacing and withdrawing it again. “All good,” he said, leaning over to show DJ. “See right there? Level’s gotta be between those lines.”

This is how the two of them went along, side by side, for quite a while. Daryl explained everything as he worked and had DJ actually replace a bad hose with him. They checked the tire pressure and tread, the radiator, heater, bypass hoses, the belts… And all the while they talked comfortably a lot of things—about fishing and hunting, about holidays, about things DJ and you had seen and done, about Daryl living in the woods, about Rick and Michonne and others who were gone one way or another. There was a comfortable lull for a while as Daryl spliced together some wiring to fix what looked like mouse damage. Then DJ broke it again.

“What should I call you?” he asked suddenly.

Daryl looked over at him and then withdrew his hands from his work, facing DJ and leaning one arm on the edge of the engine compartment again. He sighed and nervously chewed on his bottom lip, considering the pensive look on his son’s face. He scruffed a hand back through his hair. “Well—‘m yer father. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. But—‘dad’ is somethin’ else. Tha’s somethin’ tha’s earned. Ya can call me Daryl if ya want, and if someday ‘Dad’ seems right to ya, if I earn it, well…” he nodded, “then alright. But tha’s all up to you about if and when.”

DJ seemed contemplative still about Daryl’s answer and only nodded, before resuming his role as Daryl’s assistant.

It was moving toward evening when there were footsteps around the side of the truck and you appeared with a sparkling light in your eyes and a happy smile on your lips at the two of them side by side with dirty hands. “Am I interrupting?” you asked.

“Nah,” Daryl said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just finished up actually. Couldn’ta done it without DJ. Got a future mechanic here, I think,” Daryl said, taking the flashlight back from him.

“Oh, good to know,” you said, watching your son leap happily down from his perch on the bucket. “That’s certainly something I always need help with,” you laughed. You brushed DJ’s hair back from his face fondly. “Wait outside for me for a sec, bud?” DJ nodded and stepped around the truck to stand on the driveway.

“Ya alrigh’?” Daryl drawled, still wiping the dirt and grease from his hands.

You nodded. “Yeah. Carol helped me track down some more clothes for me and DJ. We hardly have anything after being on the road again.” Daryl nodded. “Anyway, I’m gonna take DJ for a quick walk before it gets dark, talk to him about the run and what’s coming next. See you back at the house in a bit?” Daryl nodded, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He still worried sometimes that you were a mirage.

“Yeah,” he drawled. His voice was soft and sweet, like warm maple syrup. “See ya in a few.” Walking the perimeter of Alexandria beside DJ, you were battling your own nerves. Leaving him again so soon was going to be hard, especially with such a dangerous and grim task ahead. He peppered you with questions about the supply run to the base, about the swarm of the dead soldiers, about why you didn’t get the guns and ammo too, “could we get a tank?!”, about how your arm got hurt, about Daryl and his crossbow and his two knives that helped keep you and Carol alive… and still he was bursting with more questions. You answered them all patiently. He seemed to have run out finally and you walked silently beside each other for a few minutes, your arm draped around his shoulders. until he was looking up at you. You smiled down at him and brushed aside the curtain of his long wavy hair that was hanging in his eyes. Just like his dad, you thought tenderly.

“You’re leaving again,” he said seriously.

You drew in a long, deep breath slowly, held it, and then let it out. Your eyes were fixed toward the gap in the wall. It was shrinking slowly with the repair efforts, but not fast enough. The outside world was visible, peeking through, and if you all weren’t careful it would start to leak in. You nodded in response to DJ’s question. “Yes.”

“It’s to go after them?” he asked.

You looked down at him and met his worried eyes. “Not exactly. It’s more about food and supplies than it is about them,” you explained.

“But you’re going to kill them. Right? They killed almost all of us. And then they hurt Aunt Maggie and her family.” You thought you could hear a tremble of anger in his voice and your brow furrowed. You bent down in front of him, your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s likely that you’re right, that it will come to killing. But you need to remember that isn’t always the way things need to go. It’s not always the way things should go. But we do what we need to, to survive.”

He nodded and you brushed the back of your fingers over his cheek and gave him a fond look before straightening up.

You walked for another minute before DJ spoke up again. “Is Dad going?” he asked.

You snapped over to look at him so fast you thought you might have tweaked something in your neck. You felt tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. That was the first time he’d referred to Daryl as just “Dad.” You tried to pull it together and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s going with.”

DJ nodded and looked thoughtful. “It’ll be okay then,” he said. “I don’t think he’d ever let anything happen to you.”

That was too much for you to handle and a few tears escaped out onto your cheeks as you grabbed DJ in a tight hug and kissed the top of his head as you straightened back up, hurriedly swiping the tearstains from your cheeks. “Yeah. It’s gonna be fine,” you agreed. “Love you.”

DJ looked up at you again. “Love you too, Mom.”

That night, you and Daryl settled all the kids down together in the spare room and then collapsed back on the couch, finally alone again. Daryl’s blue eyes were studying the shape of you next to him. You leaned back more heavily into the cushions and sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “Do you think they bought it?” you asked, leaned up on your elbow on the back of the couch, your chin propped on the heel of your palm.

“What, that I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” he laughed. He paused for a moment. “Prob’ly. ‘Cept Jude. That girl sees every damn thing.” You laughed softly but then your mind turned to the next day’s journey.

“Are we insane? For trying this?” you asked him.

Daryl nodded. “Prob’ly.” There was extra grit and gravel in his voice now. “But ain’t no way ‘round it.”

You rubbed at your tired eyes. “Yeah… I just wish there was a way to know that we’re doing the right thing beforewe do it.” You laughed wryly. “Isn’t that the truth about all of life?” You glanced over at Daryl beside you.

“Some things it’s easy to know are right,” he drawled quietly, even a little shyly again, ducking your gaze for a moment. You had the distinct impression he was talking about you. “Hey—” Daryl’s hand found you gently and his fingers laced in between yours. He tilted his head toward his bedroom. “C’mon. Let’s steal a little time for ourselves.”

A smile came back to your lips. You nodded. “Please. That sounds perfect.”

You fell into bed together again, pulling away the layers of the day’s clothes until both of you were just skin. Your worries drifted to the floor with the folds of cotton and denim for a time. Daryl seemed softer than the night before when the two of you had collided, but it was no less intense or fiery. Instead, it burned slowly but heated you to your core in an instant. The roughness of his palms over your skin as he ran them from the flare of your rib cage down the indent of your waist and then to the prominence of your hip was intoxicating. You were biting down on your lip to stop yourself from waking the entire house as he kissed nearly every part of you. Your heart pounded as the muscles in his back, taught and strong, rippled and tensed under your fingertips. His name escaping you in that breathy gasp had him nearly over the edge in an instant and when the two of you finally hit your peak together it was pure, extended bliss which didn’t lessen when you collapsed down beside each other, spent and bleary with happiness and afterglow and waiting sleep.

Daryl had tossed one of his t-shirts to you when your flushed and overheated skin cooled and left you chilled and you tugged it on and settled down against him, his arm tightening around you securely. You looked into one another’s eyes, still smiling coyly occasionally, eyes heavy with impending sleep. Daryl bent toward you and kissed your forehead and another wave of happiness and pure contentment that had been entirely absent for a decade crashed over you again.

He chewed on his bottom lip nervously. “I meant what I said yesterday, ya know.”

“Hmm?”

“I never stopped lovin’ you. And I never stopped lookin’.” He still sounded vaguely like he was trying to convince you. You looked into his bright blue eyes again and nodded, pressing a hand to the center of his strong chest, knowing that your initials were there in black and white, in ink, beneath your fingers.

“I know. I love you too,” you whispered back, and then you tucked in against him and closed your eyes and sleep took both of you gently and quickly.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Your breath rose in a cloud as you stepped down off the last step into the subway terminal. It was eerily quiet compared to the thunder of the storm overhead. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you moved farther inside. Daryl was beside you and you exchanged a glance with him. He could read the unease on your face. Before long, Negan was speaking what you were feeling.

“Not to sound like a broken record, but I think we ought to take a breath, hunker down, wait for the storm to pass,” he said. His tall frame was stiff and rigid.

“Ain’t what I asked,” Daryl drawled. “I asked which way. Tha’s the only damn reason yer here. So which way is it?”

Maggie chewed him out next when he didn’t answer fast enough. “You don’t wanna go in there?” she asked, referring to the gaping darkness ahead in the tunnel.

“No. I don’t,” Negan admitted.

“I don’t give a shit,” she snapped at him. “Which way?”

This time he answered, and the group started to move off. Daryl whistled to Dog and glanced over at you, some concern growing on his face at your expression. “You good?”

You stared again at the long, dark tunnel ahead. You let out a wry laugh. “Not to sound like an 80’s cop movie but—I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Maybe Negan’s right.”

He was standing close enough to hear that. “God Bless America,” he chuckled to himself. “Somebody else with a fuckin’ lick of sense. Daryl—you can’t ignore that,” he insisted, “considering the source. You and I both know you’ll put plenty of weight on that opinion. Me not wanting to go in there? It ain’t ‘cuz I’m a chicken. It’s because if we go in there and bad shit goes down—walkers, tunnel collapse, flooding—we are up shit’s creek without a paddle. This is a genuinely bad idea,” Negan said. “And you want to just walk the Love of your life, with a capital fucking L, right in there? Really?��

“Negan, shut the fuck up and stop fucking listenin’ in on my goddamn conversation. And don’t. talk. about her,” Daryl growled. Negan threw his hands up and backed off, pacing a tight circle up on the platform. Daryl gulped and sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He caught your eyes again. “We ain’t got time to burn here. Shit is desperate back home and we dun even know how long this whole thing is gonna take, not to mention gettin’ the supplies back if we even manage to get 'em. I think we gotta go ahead and work with what we can,” he drawled.

You eyed the tunnel one more time but the sick feeling in your stomach remained the same. Your hand strayed to the hilt of your knife and you loosened it in your sheath. “Alright,” you conceded.

The last few members of the party who had remained on the platform hopped down, following Maggie. Several of them purposely bumped into Negan on their way. You were left standing there a few feet from him and happened to catch his eyes once the two of you were alone.

“You see that shit?” he asked with a dry laugh and a roll of his eyes.

“What, you think you don’t deserve it?” you said coldly. “Look, just because you and I happen to fucking agree about the creepy tunnel—that doesn’t make us friends.” You left him standing there and accepted Daryl’s waiting hand to help you down off the platform onto the tracks and into the dark.

[stardewstardropthoughts]

Okay so this thought has been infecting my mind- Shane is talking about how his mind won’t shut up and he drinks to calm it down and make reader is like “I normally just use sex-“ (this would be when they’re super close) and Shane is like “idk who I’d do that with, I don’t trust anyone enough” and the reader offers and now it’s a habit 👀

This got pretty long will not lie 😂 but I had fun writing it, it’s not has hot and heavy as most of my Shane stuff but I still like it lol, as per usual smut is under the cut MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT 💙

Content warning: little bit of degradation, little bit of praise, Afab reader

Shane when the farmer offers to be of use 👀

Your hanging out at the saloon again with Shane after he’s had a miserable day at work

“It’s like my mind just fucking lives to torment me I swear to god it never stops”

He’s mumbling while holding a cup of beer in his hands face on his arm on the counter

“Have you tried other methods of distraction?”

He looks up at you mildly interested in what you had to say, ever since you came here you’ve been dedicated to befriending him even when he tried to push you away

“Like I usually just have sex or masturbate if my minds to loud and I need a break”

His face is heating up at the implications but he decides to joke with you for a moment to ease the tension

“Oh yeah because there’s a line of people down the street to jump in my sheets right?”

You look down at him from where your sat and offer him a smile

“While, you can always try jumping in my sheets if you wanna give it a try”

God does he want to, he’s been thinking about you tangled up in bed with him forever

“Don’t fuck with me here sweetheart”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Shane, my offers serious, if you wanna take me up on it swing by the farm around seven tomorrow”

You throw him a smile as you pay for your tab and his tab, always so sweet to him dispute how much he hates it sometimes

And that’s how he found himself here, on your porch with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and hesitating to knock

But you opened the door since you wanted to make sure your sprinklers were gonna work in the morning because you just had them installed

“Well hello there, here to take me up on that offer big boy?”

His mouth is dry as he tries to find his words again

“Uhhhh yeah, if it’s still up?”

Fuck yeah it is

Which is how you end up here, on his lap in an intense make out while he drags your shirt up over your head his shirt following suit very quickly

Hands grabbing, pulling, squeezing whatever they can reach as you whine against his lips when he’s particularly rough with your tits

Your palming his cock over his pants and he’s trying not to groan to loudly but fuck he’s been dreaming of this forever and he’ll be damned if he isn’t gonna indulge now that he has the chance

After a few moments your bra and underwear are on the floor and he’s above you admiring how your body looks underneath him

“Shit sweetheart if I knew this was on the table think I woulda come over sooner”

His hands are flipping your skirt up, pulling your thighs apart so he can admire your wet cunt before diving straight in eating you out like a man starved

Tongue rolling light circles over your clit, two fingers pumping in and out of your cunt at a leisurely pace while he scissors them open and closed to stretch you open a bit

Your hands threaded in his hair, you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening “fuck Shane please, right there shit don’t stop”

He hums in acknowledgment which sends vibrations through your clit ultimately pushing you over the edge of your first orgasm of the night

“Shit baby, did so good for me. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock”

He’s moving you so that your on your hands and knees on the bed, ass in the air back arched

Lands a firm smack on your ass, enjoying the squeak you let out at the contact

“Shhh love your okay, I’ll take good care of you”

Bottoms out immediately, giving you very little time to adjust to his cock before he’s slamming his hips into yours, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger print bruises while he hauls you back to meet his thrusts

“Fucking feel so good shit, you like that? Like being impaled on my cock like a little slut? Yeah ya do”

One of his hands moves to your hair to pull your face out of the pillow so he can hear your moans better, the other wrapping around your body to rub at your overstimulated clit

You can hardly think straight with his cock slamming into you, lighting your nerves on fire with every touch

“Shit shit Shane fuck to much gonna cum again please”

“Sound so good when you beg for me, cum for me baby girl, be a good slut for me”

Curses as he feels your pussy spasming around him milking his cock as he cums with you

“Fuck sweetheart, may have to do that more often”

He’s cleaning you off currently, running you a hot bath and getting you some water

“Well, the doors always open ya know” you replied with a yawn

He gets in the tub with you and sits behind you so he can wash your hair and gently rub any sore spots on your body, very much gonna take you up on that offer again at some point

[loganlermanstanaccount]

What you deserve

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

(AO3 mirror)

summary: you confessed. Joel shut down. now he's trying to pick up the pieces.

warnings: angsty asf guys (whoops) , hurt/comfort with a twist! (mostly hurt, minimal comfort)

a/n: part 2 is up! read here.

wc: 800

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He walks into the room so quietly you jump at his voice.

"Ellie said you'd be here."

You don't turn around; fingers fumbling around the med bag you were rearranging. Had been rearranging. It was hard to do much with Joel's voice rattling around in your head.

Jackson was hard. The journey, even harder. Tess, Henry, little Sam. A list of names crossed out in a black ledger. In the heat of the moment, almost you. So finding this little safe haven just west of Wyoming was a miracle and a half. But somehow, you wished you were back out there. Like Joel, you'd take a clicker head on, just to avoid this conversation.

He rubs his wrists demurely and pads behind you. Close, heavy. Hands glancing at your waist.

"Don't." It comes out shakier than you meant it. Unsure. "Please, don't."

He pauses, steps away. "Just wanted a look at ya. That's all." No response. And then he says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're avoidin' me."

You manage a dry chuckle and your shoulders heave, "...good thing you don't know any better."

"I mean it. Are ya…. are you ok? I wasn't thinking, sweetheart, I promise-"

Now, you turn around and look at him, and his voice dies in his throat. Joel Miller, square-jawed, handsome, even in the moonlight streaming into the clinic. Even pallid and pale from the stab wound at the base of his stomach. His brows are knitted together, worried. About you? It was fucking ironic, considering things.

"I just need time, Joel. I'll be okay, but I need time. And some space. And for you not to call me sweetheart, and look at me like-" -like that. Like you hung the moon and stars out in Jackson tonight. "Coworkers. Like you told Tommy. I'm fine, promise."

"Jesus." He steps closer, so this time you can feel his breath on your cheek. He takes your palms and kneads them in each hand. God, this isn't fair. He knows what he does to you, and yet here he is; cradling your hands and looking into your soul. He hasn't said a word and yet you can't move. You should, but you can't.

"M'sorry… listen- listen to me. Please, and then I'll fuck off wherever you wan' me to. Just need you to hear it."

You can't even look him in the eye.

"I thought I was gonna die, twice maybe, on the way back here. The first time, I was stupid. Raiders, fucking idiots, stompin' around the place. 10 years ago, I woulda seen them in time, gotten Ellie away. Wouldn't have gotten stabbed; not a chance. It was my fault. The second time," He pauses, hooks his thumb under your chin. He wants to see you when he says,

"The second time, I told Ellie to leave and get straight back to you. Thought that was it, thought I was a fuckin' goner and then, 10 minutes later, she comes back with a rusty needle and thread from God knows where - and tries to patch me up. All I could think, was that if I survived this, you would kill me. I could hear your voice, clear as day; 'Joel, you so much as get an infection from these shitty stitches I'll finish you off myself', 'Joel, I told you to practice first aid with Ellie every now and then, or you're both gonna regret it,' " He's smiling now. It's sweet and he's so pretty in the gentle light.

" 'Joel, you come back in one piece' "

"Except you left," you say, staring right back at him. "Before I could tell you to come back safe, Joel. Before I could say goodbye."

"I know. And m'sorry, doll. I meant what I said….before. It hurt to say it, but I did. I can't give you what you deserve."

A small sob, and you shake your head. "No, we're not… we're not doing this again-"

"Just hear me out, okay? We don't just work together and it was dumb of me to say so. I'm sorry. Maybe I should've said something when Tess told me. H-how you felt. I'm sorry." and now, a little quieter, "You deserve more than what I can give you. What we do, smuggling shit in the QZ, it's not- it's not a life. That's what you need. A warm bed every night. Dinner parties. Those disgusting fuckin' noodle packets ya like to hoard. All you can eat, sweetheart. Friends. A family, maybe. Someone who can protect you. A life. Please don't cry… you know I don't like to see you cry,"

He wipes the tears from your cheek. "That's why I said what I did. Not to spite you. But because you know I'm an emotionally stunted ass who's only gonna hurt you."

***

part 2

[noturlesson]

A Comforting Snack

[I’m starting to feel the rocky beginnings of a depressive episode, so in order to save myself some sanity, A Sal x Reader which is rlly just a self insert. Reader is black and southern. This is a bit more unfiltered than my other posts, so more aave is used.]

Sal x gn!reader - no reader pronouns used

Synop: Reader is very upset about smth (this is for all my depressed ppl so u can just insert your own situation) and Sal comes by and shares their favorite snack with them.

Warnings: Angst, depression, crying, all of that icky stuff.

It was irritating, really. You felt like crying, but the tears never left your eyes. You cursed yourself for all the times you bottled your emotions, woulda been a lot easier to cry right now if you hadn’t. But it’s whatever, the music blasting in your ears right now was doing all the work for you.

You pulled your legs into your chest, returning to that oso comforting fetal position. Your mind spun, thoughts racing, yet you weren’t thinking of anything. What had you this upset? You couldn’t answer that. It just happened, and you were helpless against the waves of sorrow washing over you. Your phone buzzed over and over, but you ignored it. After all, answering text messages wasn’t going to allow you to wallow in self pity. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft knocking on your bedroom door.

It creaked open, a familiar off-white and pink prosthetic peering through the crack. You frowned when his gaze fell on your face. He furrowed his brows, which you could make out through the eyeholes of his mask, and it made your stomach churn bitterly. He stepped in silently, closing the door gently behind him. You pulled off your headphones, pausing the loud music. Once fully inside, Sal held up a black plastic bag and shook it softly, signaling he had gotten your favorite snacks.

You felt your face scrunch up, and that’s when the waterworks came. Unable to stop them, you choked on a sob, and the tears came pouring down your face. You brought your hand up to try and cover your mouth, but it did nothing to stop the pathetic whimpers that escaped you.

Sal’s eyes widened, and he hurried over to you, seating himself next to you on your bed. He placed the bag to the side, scooping your shuddering body up seating you upright so that you leaned against him. You cried into his arms, your fingers clinging on to the cotton fabric of his striped shirt. He remained silent, opting to move his hand to your head as his fingers massaged your scalp, pressing into the spaces between your cornrows. The wig you were wearing was long since discarded and you didn’t have the energy to find your bonnet.

You cried harder, unable to understand why Sal was so kind to you. Not that you thought you weren’t deserving, you knew you were. But someone doing something for you out of the kindness of their heart (especially when you were in a time of need) was extremely foreign to you. You buried your face into his chest, tears soaking the material. He continued to play with your hair, this time pulling you into his lap so he could use both hands.

As he did so, you wholeheartedly accepted his affection, allowing yourself to let all your emotions out, despite how ugly you looked at the moment. And Sal was patient with you, rocking you back and forth slowly to further soothe you. He hummed the tune of your favorite song (Everlong by Foo Fighters obv) softly, effectively subduing you into a complete puddle of mush in his arms. You moved so that you could wrap your arms around him, hands resting on his upper back as your fingers clung to his shirt. You were like a child in their mother’s arms with him, a level of comfort you hadn’t felt in entirely too long.

When you were finally calmed down, he pulled back and stared into your puffy eyes. You sniffled, staring back at him with confusion and a little embarrassment because oh my god you really just sobbed into his shirt like a fucking baby. And even if you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling softly at you. God, how did you find someone so perfect? He tilted his head to the baggy on the floor, eyes flashing you a questioning look. Your eyes flickered over to the bag, remembering that it was the reason you even started crying in the first place, and nodded.

He nodded at you, removing his hands from your hair (to your dismay) and stopping to swipe away some of your tears with his thumb before leaning to the side and grabbing the bag. You watched Sally intently as he pulled out a small white and yellow cup. Your eyes lit up at the sight of it, and you playfully slapped his chest.

“Say on God.” You whispered, jaw on the floor.

He chuckled at you and shook his head. “On God.” You couldn’t help but smile and took the cup from him carefully. The styrofoam was warm against your hands, and when you removed the lid, you almost cried again as the nostalgic scent of spicy cajun boiled peanuts hit your nose. He even remembered to put some of the broth in the cup as well, which was honestly your favorite part of the whole thing.

You looked up at him, a huge smile on your face. “Where you even find these at? Ian think Nockfell had ‘em.” None of the corner stores you had been to here carried them, but that just came with moving up north.

He shrugged, “Don’t worry about it, just know that I found them for you.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it warmed your heart. You nodded, taking one of the nuts from the cup, cracking it open with your teeth, and quickly eating its contents. They were just as good from when you last had them years ago. You offered him one, and he declined. “Their yours.” He said simply, hands now resting on your hips.

You pouted, setting the cup down in your lap. “Ion want ‘em if I can’t share with you.” Sal signed, knowing that he couldn’t fight with you. He didn’t really like spicy foods, but if it made you happy, then he would gladly eat all the spiciest foods the world had to offer. He unclamped the bottom half of his mask then lifted it, opening his mouth for you.

You placed a peanut between his teeth. “Bite.” You instructed. He bit down, a crunch signaling that the shell cracked. You pulled the peanut back, pulling the top shell off to reveal the real prize inside. You then tapped the shell so the nuts [please what else do I call these] would fall out. A hum left your lips when Sal started chewing, and then you went back to eating your own helping. It was quiet while you two ate, only the occasional crunch being heard.

After you had your fill (and forced Sal to try some more despite his complaints of the heat), he spoke. “You feeling better now?”

“Mhm, a lot better. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s what I’m supposed to do.” He smiled, and you saw it this time. It was beautiful, despite the huge slit that twisted his lips and left some of his teeth exposed. It was genuine and honest, and was so soft. You smiled back at him, leaning forward to hug him.

“I love you.”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

(hi it’s gratitude anon again)

for the october prompts thing if you get some time:

⁹⁾ the taste of honey from someone else’s lips

+ my love dani

thank you darling 🥰

october prompts! (still accepting!)

i wrote this on the bus while listening to she by dodie and YEARNING. god i'm so soft for this woman what have you done to me

warnings: swearing, dani just kinda gives mechanic vibes ya know?

wc: 844

She’s staring. 

She knows she’s staring and she knows she needs to stop but she can’t help it, hands falling still as she watches you from where she’s bent over, elbow deep into the hood of Tyler’s truck. 

You’re stood across Kate’s farm, talking to her and Javi. You do look rather nice today, hair gleaming in the beaming sun. Your eyes are extra bright, your jeans hugging your hips just right, your nails a new color. 

But then again, she might be biased cause she thinks you always look nice. 

But no, her eyes are drawn to your lips, a new chapstick flavor clutched in your hand as you keep talking to Javi and Kate, the minuscule movement all but forgotten by you three when it’s all she can focus on. 

What flavor was that?

The last had been a cherry of sorts, and she couldn’t help the thoughts of wondering what your lips tasted like with it on.

“You’re fucking pathetic.” Lilly snorts and she belatedly turns to look at her friend. Lilly simply shakes her head, clicking her tongue. 

Tyler huffs. “Are you gonna help me fix this or not?” 

“I am!” She protests, head jutting down to her arms that are covered in oil and grease. “You think I’m this deep into the guts of your truck for shits?” 

Tyler’s still peeved though as he ducks under the hood, peering down at where her hands are. “I need someone who’s actually gonna be useful. If I wanted an unhelpful set of hands, I woulda called Boone over here.” 

“Tyler-“ She huffs, but he shakes his head, lifting himself up to get closer. 

“Lil, can you help me with this?” He says, Lilly uneasily nodding as she sets the tablet she’s holding aside. “You go get washed up.” 

Dani huffs but knows better to challenge Tyler, not when he’s this annoyed at least, and retracts her arms from the car. She wanders around the back of the barn, picking up the hose to wash off. It won’t get everything, she’ll still have to do a good scrub in the kitchen sink but it’ll get enough so that Cathy doesn’t get annoyed at greasy fingerprints leaving their remnants. 

“T’s terrorizing Lilly, making her do that work.” 

She glances up to find you coming to plop yourself on a stray hay barrel as she turns the hose off. She drops it, unable to say anything as her words get caught in her throat.

You really do look exceptionally pretty today, what with the way your hair looks oh-so-soft and the way you’re smiling at her as you lean forward, hands propped up at the edge of the hay bale.

“What flavor?” You hum, question clear in the sweet noise. “The flavor of um, your new chapstick.” She says awkwardly, gesturing to where it sits in your pocket. 

You hum again, smile growing. “Why don’t you come find out?” 

It feels like she stops breathing for a moment as your words register in her head. 

Was that really- were you really- 

She’s silent too long, because you let out a light laugh. 

“C’mon Dani, I don’t usually know you to be so hesitant.” 

Your eyes are tinted with teasing mirth and you tip your head up, only making the invitation more clear. 

Oh. So you were asking. 

And she doesn’t know what this means for your friendship but she also knows she doesn’t know if she’ll get another chance so she moves forward, only pausing once more as her hand finds your chin in silent question. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed, and god, for as strong as she usually is, she’s weak for this. 

For you. 

She has to bend over slightly to reach you at the angle, you pushing yourself up to meet her, but it’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s everything to her. 

You pull away too soon for her liking, and she doesn’t move, swallowing hard as you grin up at her. 

“So? What’s the verdict?” 

“Honey.” She whispers softly. “You taste like honey.” 

And you had, honey with a hint of vanilla. 

But more so, you had tasted like home. 

It makes her chest ache, wondering if she’ll ever get to taste that taste again as she drops her hand, taking a half step back. 

You’re looking up at her, so soft and kind, with an unbridled warmth she hears all her friends claim you look at her with when she isn’t looking. 

“You like it? Or should I switch to something else you think?” 

She feels like she’s still struggling to get her brain online, staring at you as she wonders why you would care what she thinks of the taste. You must be able to read her mind, grinning at her as you stand up. She can hear Javi call out for you but you pay him no mind, still smiling. “C’mon Dani.” You say softly, just inches away from her. “You have to know that I picked it for you. You’re the one who loves honey after all.” 

[girl4music]

DOC: “You had no right!”

WYNONNA: “I did what was right!”

DOC: “Right woulda been shooting that thing and us running for it.”

WYNONNA: “He wasn’t always a thing, Doc. And if I’m gonna keep killing them and not go crazy, I need more than revenge…”

DOC: “Goddammit, Wynonna! They’re bad people.”

WYNONNA: “So I just ignore they’re people at all?”

DOC: “I spent over 100 years in the dark, at the bottom of a dried-up old well. Do you know what thought I turned over and over in my head? What I lived on? The sheer knowledge that I would pay back the bitch that made me what I am. This monster.”

WYNONNA: “You’re not a monster.”

DOC: “But a lesser man than Fish. I saw her today. At least I think I did. And she… her power… I couldn’t.”

WYNONNA: “That’s why you stayed. Not to help us.”

DOC: “I staked that man out there. I knew what would happen to him and I staked him still. Even worse, I would stake every revenant in this world and most of the humans too if that’s what it takes to destroy Constance Clootie.”

WYNONNA: “Well, I need rules, Doc. A code. Otherwise I’ll end up just like you.”

DOC: “Oh, stop kidding yourself, Wynonna. You’re exactly like me.”

This whole conversation. Damn it’s deep. It’s probably one of my favourite character interactions in the entire show. And the fact that this is the interaction between Wynonna and Doc that makes them kiss and fuck for the first time. Oh,… it’s all so good and so well done!

There’s some very good writing in this show that really justifies the motivations and choices and actions of the characters. It’s like soap opera levels of drama but it’s like it gives you higher stakes and consequences.

That’s another reason why I love supernatural/fantasy so much. Because the melodrama just hits differently.

Here the attraction and desire between Wynonna and Doc is amped up because they’ve admitted they’re just like each other. They both have deep jagged edges that cut and saw and the pain is mutual.

Unhealthy, sure. But it is a way of finding a deeper connection beyond that attraction and desire and so it fuels the heat they feel for each other in the moment. You know, that sudden recognition of “You’re dark - just like me”, “You’re in pain - just like me”, “You’re lost - just like me”, “You’re an outsider - just like me.”

They’re very Spuffy-like actually. Except Buffy would have never offered Spike this much faith when he was soulless. And Wynonna and Doc are not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they have the same passionate but rocky rollercoaster of a journey to navigate through and overcome based on the type of people they are. And they’re virtually mirror reflections of each other. Anti-matter equivalents. That push-and-pullness to them where they’re so toxic to each other they shouldn’t be good for each other. But that’s exactly what makes them work. The fact that they shouldn’t because they’re naturally opposed. Now Doc was always supposed to be on the same side but due to the brutality and cruelty he was dealt by Bulshar and Constance, and the rejection by Wyatt, it made sense that he chose to stand on the other side initially but then grew to love his crazy found family once again. They always were meant to stand together as heroes rather than against each other as enemies.

And how you know that’s 100% true is because they do a 180 at the end of the show and it really hits because by that point it was Wynonna that was shut off and shut down to the power of love and forgiveness. That was driven by vengeance and violence and that had to open her heart to Doc.

I’m so SO glad Andras chose to play it that way. To have her chase after him instead of the other way around even if that does seem like she’s desperate. Because she had already proven that her vulnerability didn’t outweigh her power or make it seem less than. If anything - it did the opposite. Made her even more. And I loved that so much. I really fucking loved that!

She’s always been the black sheep of society and of her family. So has he. And that’s why they worked. Something that you would think would not work at all because it’s contradictory is what makes those jagged little pieces not only fit - but also function together. When you find that deeper connection - as mad or bizarre as it might be - it’s still a deeper connection and it will still tell a deep and beautiful TV love story.