#and mostly to communicate that some things didn’t change

[persephoneflouwers]

I love how you articulated your thoughts. I am guessing that is all the more of a reason why Harry felt so connected to the blue bandana, always carrying him around. Obviously these are just guesses, but I really feel it was(is?) his coping mechanism to feel connected to his love.

The stories about the blue bandana are mostly fun. Back then, when the bandanas fan project was happening, I think it was a statement of course. But recently I don’t really think he used to wear it for that. I think he would do something more personal for them if he wanted to show his partner support or whatever.

[xxxstraightfromtheheartxxx]

Read my tags first, ran out of space.

Note: I change my mind a few times throughout this text post, what I began with is not entirely what I ended with. And I’m not even sure of the ‘conclusion’ I got to. However I’m too tired to try and figure the rest out about it right now. Might change this post later when I have made up my mind or got more questions about it. Heads up! Spelling- and other mistakes in writing, were made. Frequently.

I know my tags make me a hypocrite and that’s one of the judgemental thought processes I’ve been fighting/growing against most for a while now.

I expect people to think similarly to me about this and that’s not within my right, they don’t owe me anything for the choice I decided to make and put the hard work in for. That I’ve suffered for it and for the patience I’ve had to bring up towards others being judgemental and having prejudices they didn’t fight within themselves. The frustration I keep feeling every time I have to explain to other adults how to respect accept and see minorities or marginalised groups as equal in worth to themselves. It’s so tiring, and I’m just white, I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and have these conversations to protect yourself and your family and friends and loved ones over and over again whilst still experiencing racist comments assumptions treatment behaviour bullying exclusion exploitation… through systemic racism, racist communities,through so many facets of their lives.

I feel like I’ve been shouting for equality. Not sure if that’s the best most respectful word for it in english, in my language literally translated our word means ‘equally worthy”. And to me that means that from birth we should all be treated with the same amount of respect love and acceptance. It’s only society, nurture that causes this inequality to exist, that not only allows but encourages prejudices and othering for power. Shouting at people who seemingly just refuse to open their eyes, minds and hearts and keep humanity from growing into healthier behavioural patterns in the future. They refuses to put in more effort to try our best to avoid wars, make the idea of hurting another person out of anything other than self defence, be heavily rejected, punished. Instead of not saving each other out of fear for economic and political threats to our own habitants and countries. To be unified so firmly by the absolute belief that violence is wrong, that those fears wouldn’t even be an issue because we’re all know all the other countries will still have our backs and we’d be able to function without the country that’s trying to start or continue a war, while only having to put in mild effort to be entirely independent from the threatening county, as humanity instead of as “individual countries”. It would cut the county/group at war of their resources entirely, which would endanger them to much to be able to actually be able to hold out being at war and making an actual big difference in the big picture of our common humanity. I know there are many weapons that could destroy so many at the same time, yet they would be poisoning the ground they so gladly wish to live on. (Ofcourse this is an ideal that is almost utopian).

This is the goal I thought we were all collectively working towards throughout our entire lives. To eventually be able to all come together in the far away future. All of the warmhearted people in the world.

And therefore we have to start within our small circle of influence and be open to try and learn to understand and respect each other with our differences and similarities, To expect people to be good and ourselves to put effort in it.

However completely swerved away from my original point. But it is the root of that frustration, hurt, disappointment and envy I experience when I see or hear or feel negative judgement .

People have been calling me stern and too strict and rigid in thought more in the last 4 years. It’s because I’ve been responding to prejudices and discriminatory behaviour and ideas verbally, and I have to admit about 50% of the time quite hard, not disrespectful, but clear. I’ve been setting boundaries over what way there can be spoken about others and myself with me. This week I even threatened to leave the room and wouldn’t continue conversing with them if they didn’t then stop casually using the n-word, while knowing it is wrong and hurtful and what my opinion and feeling was towards it. They called my stern and frowned and sighed but at least could bring it up not to say it with me around anymore. I know I haven’t changed their behaviour without my presence this way and it saddens me to feel them rejecting that part of myself that’s at the core of me. My moral core believe of equality.

When people won’t widen their view for one minority it makes me feel unsafe as part of multiple other minorities. I’m a queer womxn with persistent mental health issues, who isn’t able to work because of it and I’m neurodivergent and have some invisible fysical issues (I have loads of allergies which used to give me big rashes of eczema in my envoys and knees and later hands and feet, it has improved a lot, the amount of allergies keeps expanding though) ( I have a very small amount of energy compared to most people my age because of having to put in too much effort as a child and teen) to take care of others and secretly fighting feelings of depression). I’m lucky to be middle-class, white and have affordable healthcare here. All of these other aspects have made life harder for me throughout my entire life. Yet others have mostly blamed me and pestered me, excluded and avoided me for my inabilities and difference, including the inability to l love men.

It feels unfair that I try so hard to be accepting, understand and respectful of others, and not get the same amount of effort and care back… which is hypocrite of me, because the people I want to make the biggest changes never asked me to do all that. And while their lives are often so much easier specifically on the those societal aspects, does that make them owe me that effort back?

I feel like yes, they should, because they have more space for it, for questioning their prejudices than us. Because of the privileges of the main beliefs in their society, they didn’t have to lift a finger for throughout their entire lives. For all of the freedom and respect they’ve just got thrown in their laps, that took up so much of our lives for us to assemble a resemblance to their quality of life.

(Many people who have to fight for their lives daily, do not have that time or space so they only get to grow slower and are part of minority or marginalised groups as well. Bc evidently their is a lot of prejudice within those groups towards the other groups who are also being pressed down.)

I don’t know if I still think it’s hypocrite of me to expect people to put effort in being good. I don’t think so. The length they are able to go through to make those improvements however, I should bare in mind stronger again, like I used to.

If I give up on following my moral compass on this, I’ll never be the person I hope to be one day. I do feel like I deserve to give myself a break and be forgiving about those negative thoughts because they come from a desire for righteousness and good. Recognise, reject, correct, forgive and trust that I’ll do better next time because it is what I truly want to in the long run. I show myself to not always respond and to better pick my battles, so I can persevere and rebuild my energy for when I can make a bigger impact In the braided context or my own. However when I notice bad behaviour or judgement towards others, I do use little parts of it to give them a correcting look or to speak up for someone else or recently even for myself.

Totally did not see this rant coming!!

I knew this theme has been more at the front of my mind again recently and that I’ve been prickly about it, yet I hasn’t reflected on its origin as deeply as I did just now. So here, little amount of people this will reach, have some personal information from my brain and my heart.

.

I’ve been typing this for so long and my attention span has loosened throughout writing. I don’t supposes I’ve managed to make everything clear, I got more and more tired and created some weird sentence structures and maybe grammar and def phrasing to try to get my point through or at least comprehended.

Don’t come at me about the war part, I know it is unrealistic to achieve anything like that in our lifetimes.

Yet I’m holding onto this dream for dear life. Otherwise what is there? To grow towards, to live for? It all comes to recognising, appreciating, sharing and maintaining the good there is now and nurturing the good to come.

The way you change your immediate reactions to things is that you catch yourself having an uncharitable/bigoted/overly judgmental thought and you catch it and replace it and then you do that a hundred times a day for your whole life and eventually one day like five years later you realize that you think differently now and you’ll always be working on something but that’s how life goes and that’s fine.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. moon ki-yong (the salesman) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

moon ki-yong is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ki-yong doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what moon ki-yong was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ki-yong?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[girlfromflor]

super soldiers!141 x new to the unit!reader | this is dumb and poorly written, i'm sorry, just needed to get it out my mind

thinking about a sci-fi, future-ish au where human soldiers became sort of a social experiment on a large scale after machine soldiers have proven to be inefficient against certain “threats” because of their lack of motivation, incentives. purpose. machines needed things to make sense, they couldn’t be encouraged to do some tasks. they would follow orders, of course, but they – for themselves – were not ethical at all. 

machines didn’t care if it was a child, a man, a woman or an animal, if it was their target they were going to put it down at any cost and that caused problems. a lot of different problems throughout their years of usage. especially if a mission needed fast changing of target. but they were a single mind distributed in countless bodies of wires and hard plastic, and that was their biggest strength. if one knew, they all knew. if one was given an order, all the others knew what it was and what should be done to reach it. it was visceral, a core knowledge that no human was capable of achieving by natural means – of course. 

so the government started to support the return of human soldiers on field, with the exception that they required new training, one to make them more united, more like one living force. they also had to work within a task force – the fewer people in a group, the better. in the first two years of this change of scenario, higher ranked soldiers started making their own task forces in order to choose the people that they worked more in sync with, and proceed through training to get them all to feel in synch as well – until the whole group felt like there was no doubt ever, just pure certain and mutual understanding.

after a sufficient number of task forces were completed and started to act on the field again, it became clear that intense training wasn’t enough. they kept running tests to understand exactly what these soldiers were lacking to improve their performance. after a few months scientists developed a new device, one that should answer their remaining questions. it was an extremely small piece of technology that was injected into the soldiers and that allowed them to communicate better – they needed fewer and fewer words to understand one another. of course, that didn’t really last long until they became obsolete and were replaced by new ones.

that technology kept on evolving until, a few years after, a special type of “device” was achieved. it half worked like a hormone in the human body – heightened senses mostly, that allowed an insane capacity to deeply understand things in a visceral matter. some people suspected it was made from specific DNA traits of animals highly skilled in things that mattered in the military – like hunting –, but in reality no one really questioned what it was. the results were all very natural – as far as they could possibly be in human terms. it worked, and that was all that mattered. it was almost totally customized, the injectable liquid had a different composition depending on what it was that the task force needed to improve as a whole. everyone in the same group received the same sample, they weren't repeated because it changed accordingly with the task force.

the truth is that task force 141 never really needed any of this shit, since day one they were a highly effective unit in all matters. with a total of five years in and out of test devices, they one hundred percent relied on their personal interaction – as any other unit should do. to say that they had each other's back was a total understatement, they completely trusted each other in an extremely vulnerable way. of course it required a deep amount of reliance to reach that, but they had come a long way anyway – with all the training plus the training with the previous test devices. but as time passed and it became law that “all working units shall have a dose to optimize their performance on field”, they had no other choice but to accept. which they were silently glad for, but they were never going to admit it. 141 was the best unit since new training began and human soldiers were a thing again, they were the very proof that human connections were necessary to certain tasks. but after they took their dose? oh boy, they were the best of the best. no questions asked, they all became more sensitive to nature itself. gaz started knowing all significant changes on the weather two day before it happened even if he was in blindfolds, soap somehow managed to always calm stray animals with his mere presence on the empty concrete forests that they had to visit every once in a while, ghost could tell how many people were inside of a room even several floors apart and captain price stopped needing to bark orders, he simply acknowledged them and then the boys seemed to simply know what to do.

they slowly morphed into one consciousness, not like the artificial intelligence prior to them, but like a new evolved version of themselves. suddenly ghost understood every sensation gaz ever talked about, gaz just knew what went through soap's mind, soap didn't even need to touch price to feel his tense shoulders anymore because everytime their captain got worried, they felt it. not like they felt their own feelings, but it was there. like they understood the very idea of their emotions. 

eventually, they grew used to their new form, an emotionally charged bond that held them together. if they felt something hard enough they made the others feel it too. it wasn't always nice. one time kyle and johnny fought and that created an atmosphere where they all kept feeding off their anger, until captain told them to knock it off already and then he was mad at them like he felt both their ire – he did feel it, and it sucked. but then sometimes it was outstanding, like when ghost was so horny on a random ass tuesday and he kept horny for the rest of the week and the week after. when he finally managed to get his sweet, sweet relief, he dragged all his boys with him – even though he was alone in his room and they were all doing their respective chores. they all felt that knot loose in their lower half and just knew exactly what it was – who it was. after that they all tried to rile each other up with only their weird telepathic bond.

things were fun and enigmatic, they didn't need scientific explanations to things they simply knew. and understood. it wasn’t a problem to be solved by any means, they all simply embraced this new scenario and tried to make the most of it. and it worked, they got to a level that some things didn’t even have to be said because they would know from the moment that the others acknowledged it as well.

until one day they were chilling in the living room of their house, watching tv when a small pang of anxiety sparked somewhere low in their chest. cap furrowed his brows looking at johnny for an answer but he was just as confused. he turned to simon to see his visible discomfort at the foreign sensation. simon turned to kyle, the only one who seemed rather unbothered by it, although just as confused, and asked “what is it?”, even though he knew it wasn't kyle, and he knew kyle didn't know either.

kyle simply shrugged, “dunno, but it's weird as fuck.” it was his way to cope with the strange feeling, trying to not let it consume him. he wondered where it was coming from, since it wasn't from any of the others.

“we will know soon enough,” john said, the soothing tone a bit unusual in the captain's voice, but it was welcome nonetheless. it managed to work the boys' nerves, and soon enough none of them felt the small, irritating poke of anxiety.

it wasn't four days later that realization washed over them. it was price who received the news – of course, like always – but they all immediately knew that something was up. they wordlessly gathered at john's office door exchanging glances until his voice cut through the silence. they didn't knock but he knew that they were standing there, “come in already, will you?”

johnny opened the door, simon and kyle stepped in first as he held it open for them. he closed the door behind him, watching john's expression. they all knew they needn't worry, but they also knew it wasn't easy news. no one said a word, simply watching silently as price lit up a cigar and rubbed a hand down his face, then his hand scratched his beard. he sighed, taking a few seconds to find the right words, he took one final drag and settled his cigar down.

he wasn't stressed, just tired – and that said a lot, it also soothed the boys. they could help him relax in their own way if he was tired, but if he was stressed he never really allowed them close – that required a great deal of work, he never wanted them to feel stressed too. john took a breath, opened his mouth to say something more elaborate, but he couldn’t, he was just as surprised as the boys would be. so he just spilled the words out.

“we are getting an addition to the unit.”

a/n: i have no idea what to think of this. | series masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[bluukive]

The Moon Above

summary - Both you and Suguru promised each other not to look outside. But something changed his mind. Should you listen to him?

warnings - mention of sụicide, mental health, the moon is evil, really vague descriptions of what's going on, manipulation, even I'm confused

wc - 1366

an - another Local 58 x jjk inspired post because my mind is whizzing. idk how much of this makes sense (plz be nice it's my first attempt writing all cryptid sob)

It felt different tonight. The city was collectively in hiding, eyes and ears glued to the radio, TV, phones— whatever device was available. The streets were silent, and all curtains were drawn tightly shut as the sound of the Emergency Alert System blared loud and disrupted the silence.

"THIS IS A PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT FROM YOUR LOCAL BROADCASTING STATION.

DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR DEVICE

DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE. 

ALL WINDOWS AND CURTAINS MUST REMAIN CLOSED. IF YOU ARE FOUND TO HAVE OPEN YOUR WINDOWS, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO GO OUTSIDE. INDIVIDUALS ATTEMPTING TO ENGAGE WITH ANY EXTRATERRESTRIAL PHENOMENA WILL BE ELIMINATED.

IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE BEEN AFFECTED: ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY."

You sat there, bloodshot eyes straining as you took in the message before you. The only thing illuminating your pitch-black room was the TV, and your body was rigid as you held your breath. Tentatively, as if skies above would hear you, you exhaled and let the tightness leave your muscles. 

It’s been pure hell for the last few months. Socialisation and communication was at an all time low. Paranoia had struck the nation when outbreaks of psychosis had spread like wildfire. Reports of ritualistic behaviours, mass suicide and missing individuals was growing increasingly common. And there was no one to blame but yourselves. 

It was hostile. Everyone knew that. But people were so easily swayed by the illusion of salvation it seemed to give. It appeared to whisper and shone bright in the ever-lasting night sky. Bow to me, the voices said. Give in to your saviour. 

But there were no voices. The human mind was terribly weak, making up things that weren’t actually there. Theories began to emerge, causing waves of misinformation to reach even the most isolated corners of the world. No-one knew what was going on— not even the most experienced psychologist or astrophysicist. All everyone knew was that it couldn’t be trusted. People swore that it’d appear to breathe and pulse, but madness would soon follow those who dared to look up. 

Whether it was a vessel to harbour some sort of hostile entity, or whether it was the entity itself, no-one had a clue. All you knew was if you kept the curtains shut, you’d be fine. Mostly. 

A faint buzz brought you out of your thoughts. Cellular devices weren’t prohibited, per se. But you were rather cautious about using one. 

Blinking back the wave of exhaustion, you picked up your phone and saw that it was no other than Suguru, one of the very few you could rely on for support. He was a grounding force in your life, keeping you sane and served as a reminder that no matter how tempting it was outside, it wasn’t worth it. 

“Hello? Sugu?” You whispered, longing to hear the voice of your best friend. Your one and only, you’d often kid. You couldn’t hear anything from the other end of the phone except for some light breathing. With your brows knitted in confusion, you called out to him again.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, y/n. Did you see the recent alert?” Suguru sounded breathless. That was the first thing you noted. As if he’d gone for a run. But not in these conditions, right? 

You shook your head stupidly, as if he could see you. “Yes, we can’t open our curtains. Nothing new. Why?” 

The small huff of laughter you were so used to met your ears. It made you feel good for once, in a time where nothing felt right. But what your dear friend said next had your breath catching.

“My TV was telling me something different. Didn’t you see it? It’s safe again.”

Silence.

That wasn’t right. There had been no other EAS. You sat up straighter on the floor, mouth feeling dry. “No, actually. There haven't been any other messages. I would have texted you if there was,” you responded, forcing your voice to stay casual. But you were far from calm. Your mouth felt as if someone had stuffed cotton into it, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a good breath of air into your lungs. 

“...it’s beautiful tonight, y’know?” Suguru murmurs so softly. You falter, feeling as if you were underwater. His words came out muffled as all the blood in your body rushed to your head. You should have hung up on him.

Save yourself. 

But like a fool, your trembling hands kept your phone by your ear. “S-suguru? Did you look…outside?”

Another chuckle, and you felt your heart rate picked up drastically. Surely, he didn’t?

“You sound scared,” he teased, eyes focused on one thing only from his own apartment not too far away from yours. His bedroom felt uncomfortably hostile and cramped. What other choice did he have but to open his curtain? “There’s no need to be scared, Not when it’s so peaceful.”

Your hand was shaking almost violently now, the combination of fatigue and tears prickling at your eyes making it unbearably warm in your room. “Don’t look at it, Suguru. Please don’t look at it.”

A soft exhale. Like he’s getting frustrated at you. But you need to remind yourself that this isn’t the Suguru you grew up with. It can’t be. Not anymore. 

He speaks again, but there’s a slight edge to the silk of his voice. “Don’t you trust me, y/n? Don’t you want to see the God hanging down from the sky? It calls to us all.”

Suguru sounds breathless now, as if he’s locked in reverent worship. You’re frozen now, refusing to listen to whatever was at the other end of the phone.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Look out of the window, y/n. Can’t you see me burning under it?” The crackling of the phone grows louder, yet his voice comes through audibly. You swore you could hear your own voice echoing back at you the more you spoke. 

Nothing felt real. Your head was swimming. 

“Don’t call me by my name. Who are you, and what have you done to Suguru?”

“I crawled into his skin. Now, I burn,” a brief pause, the voice growing more distorted by the second. “But I have an eternity to get to know his flesh, and his body will learn to accept me eventually. Look outside.” 

You were so conflicted. Usually, you were so insistent on following the orders of the EAS. But underneath all of the distortion, Suguru sounded so at peace. Didn’t you deserve that too? 

“Y/n. Just one look,” he said. It sounded like him again. Not the other Suguru that made the whispers in your room grow more prominent. 

Would looking make you stop feeling like you were being watched from the inside of your skull? Would it end the constant urge to look into the mirror to check if the eyes of your reflection were still shut when you looked at it? 

And so the last of your resolve cracked after weighing out the pros and cons. Suguru would be proud, right? You finally listened to him for once. You winced as your knees cracked after hours of inactivity. The roar of white noise was dimming the closer you came to the curtain. The whispers seemed to pause. That was the last push you needed. It felt good to be so close to salvation. 

You cast your eyes back, glancing at the TV. If you hadn’t blinked, you would have seen the way your reflection was slower than you. One deep breath. 

Swoosh. 

You blinked hard once the curtain was drawn to the side, shielding your eyes with a pale arm and grimacing at the sensation of light. Suguru was silent now, the phone long forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even notice, not until you gathered your bearings and finally dragged your eyes to the window. 

Your stomach lurched.

“I-I don’t like this. Please stop moving like that.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Your entire face glowed from the light outside and your feet were planted firmly on the scratchy carpet beneath you. You should turn back now, before you’re caught by the authorities—

“You’ve already looked.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

[willowsnook]

Let me in

Hi! Love your idea for a prompt list. Can I order: A turkey swiss on wheat bread, maybe mike’s way if you feel like it’s fitting for the sandwich?

Joe burrow x bsf!reader

Please don’t leave

—-----------------------------------------

Fall in Cincinnati was something that you loved. The trees changed colors, you could start leaving your windows open, and, of course, Bengals football. Now, you’d never claim that you were a die-hard fan, that was still reserved for your beloved Green Bay Packers, but after 5 years in the city, they were a solid 2nd favorite. Plus, being good friends with the starting quarterback meant you had to root for them. 

You met Joe at a charity event a year after you moved to Ohio. Working for a Cincinnati-specific lifestyle magazine, your recommendations and reviews had made you quite well known in the city. Your strategy was always finding small, hidden gem places, usually family-owned, to review and elevate. This fulfilled your need to make a difference and also get paid to eat food. 

While your job was so public and in the spotlight, you were pretty introverted, which surprised a lot of people. You didn’t necessarily enjoy being the center of attention, focusing more on making those around you shine. This meant that while you were appreciative of being recognized by the community, you hated going to big events; you’d much rather just be writing about them. 

So when the introverted star of Cincinnati joined you in the shadows of an event, the two of you hit it off. Knowing who you were, his PR team had noticed and pitched a content series involving Joe. You spent a whole day with him, going to places he recommended and giving instant reviews. Initially, you were worried about it being awkward because you didn’t know him well, but you both had a blast. Joe was easy to talk to, and he liked that you treated him like anyone else. 

After that, he’d invited you to hang out with his friends several times, and Ja’marr really liked you, insisting that you be added to the friend group. Since then, you’d spent the last couple of years being forced to go to every home Bengals game, but you could also easily force one of them to help you with some kind of content for work. A mutually beneficial friendship you thought. 

Midway through the week, you were back at your apartment, taking pictures of some cookies someone sent you to be considered for an upcoming article you were writing. You snapped the perfect picture just as your phone rang, and you looked over to see it was Joe calling. 

“What’s up?” You said, putting the phone on speaker. 

“I’m bored. Can I come hang?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m doing some work, but I’ll be done soon.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” 

You were used to Joe calling you randomly to hang out, especially when the season was going poorly. One thing you learned in your years of friendship with him was that he didn’t like to be alone, mostly so he didn’t spiral thinking about everything. You were happy to be a friend he could lean on. 

15 minutes later, you heard your front door open and smiled as Joe wandered into the kitchen. He gave you a small squeeze from behind as you leaned over your laptop. 

“Are you doing anything with these?” He asked, and you looked over at the cookies. 

“No, I just got done. Have at it,” you replied, amused as he shoveled one into his mouth. 

“These are pretty good,” he said, swallowing. “But I’ve had better.”

“Hmm,” you thought. “What don’t you like about them?”

“Too grainy,” he said, and you agreed, unable to think of what you were feeling. 

“That’s a good point; I’m using that,” you said, typing it down in your notes. 

“Watch out, I’m going to steal your job,” he joked, and you smirked. 

“Does that mean I get yours?”

“You’d probably do a better job than me right now,” he said, and you frowned, shutting your laptop. 

“You are still a superstar, even when you lose,” you told him earnestly, getting a small smile from him. 

“I think I need you with a headset on to tell me that during the games,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Yeah yeah,” you replied, blushing. “Want to take a walk or something? I need to get out of the house.” 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you walked down the street and ventured towards the water, chatting about upcoming events and his family coming to visit. You started to get chilly and held your arms briefly before Joe noticed. He pulled his hoodie off with one hand and handed it to you, not even stopping what he was saying. You pulled it on, inhaled the lingering cologne, and sighed. 

“Will you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?” he asked, jolting you back to reality.

“With your parents?” you asked, and he nodded. “Would that not be a little weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” 

“I don't know. I just wouldn’t want them to think we were dating or anything,” you said, confused. Joe frowned at that, but you didn’t have time to analyze it. 

“Ja’marr is coming too,” he said. “You are both my best friends, so I’d like you to meet them.” 

“Okay, if it’s important to you,” you agreed, giving in. Dinner with Joe’s parents. Huh. Sometimes you really didn’t understand why he chose you as a best friend when many people were fighting over it. If only people knew how clingy Mr. Cool was. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Ja’Marr picked you up from your place the next night and the two of you headed to dinner. 

“You look nice,” he commented, and you smiled. You and Ja’Marr had a flirty relationship, but nothing had ever come of it. One time, when you were both very drunk in the offseason, you had made out but it didn’t last long with him backing out, saying that Joe was going to kill him. You had just assumed that Joe didn’t want anyone in the friend group dating in case it got messy, which was understandable. With Ja’marr, you were mostly just attracted to him vs. wanting something more. 

“I still feel weird about this whole thing,” you admitted to him and he gave you a lazy smirk. 

“Please, they’ll love you,” he assured you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about; I’m amazing,” you said, causing him to laugh. “I just think it’s weird and intimate. Like if my parents were in town, yeah, maybe I wouldn’t mind them meeting you guys at the game or to celebrate in a group after. But I wouldn’t invite you for a small dinner.” 

Ja’Marr gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before laughing to himself. 

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” he said and you rolled your eyes. 

The restaurant was a nicer one that you had been to before for work. Joe’s parents stood up as you approached the table and warmly greeted you. His mom pulled you into a tight hug, laughing about how excited she was to meet you finally. You shot Ja’Marr a look and found him trying not to laugh. You could tell Joe was embarrassed, which made the situation a little amusing. 

Sitting down beside him, he gave you an easy smile while handing you the drink menu. Joe’s dad jumped into conversation with Ja’Marr about the season while Robin asked you a ton of questions about your job and basically your whole life. You ended up loving his parents; they were the sweetest people. While you might have missed the way that Joe was looking at you the whole dinner, his parents definitely did not. 

“It was so good to meet you y/n,” Robin gushed. “I’m sure we’ll see much more of you in the future.” 

You smiled, confused, while Ja’Marr couldn’t hold back his laugh. Joe’s face turned bright red and his dad chuckled. 

—------------------------------------------------

If you had thought the season was going poorly before it was a million times worse now. It seemed like each week, your two friends were putting up superstar numbers but still losing. After watching them lose by just a point to the Ravens, you clicked the TV off and sighed. Reaching for your phone you texted him a white heart and watched him read it and not reply. He usually would, even after a loss, but this one was tough so you didn’t pay much mind to it. 

As the week went on, you started to feel Joe’s tension about the team bleed into your friendship. He wasn’t answering your calls and had replied to any text you had sent him with just one word. What had really pissed you off though, was that he was supposed to shoot a Thanksgiving promo with you about places that provided free food for those who needed it and he didn’t show. 

“I get that you’re having a tough time right now and while I can live with you being a bad friend I can’t live with you 1. making me look bad professionally and 2. disappointing people making a difference. So give me a call when you figure your shit out,” you ranted to his voicemail. 

You were supposed to fly out for the game this weekend but weren’t sure if you still should. Calling Ja’Marr, you complained about Joe being a dick and that you didn’t know what to do. He assured you that you should still come and that Joe was just hurting because of the season. The best thing you could do was be there for him, even in the shadows. 

The game started out horribly with it being 24-6 leading into halftime. But a different team came out in the third quarter, and you went crazy as the Bengals got ahead. But like the week before, no matter what Joe did, even throwing for over 350 yards, they still lost in the end. You lingered by the locker room after the game and smiled sadly as you saw Ja’Marr first. He wrapped you in a hug, and he was happy to have you there. Joe on the other hand, did not look happy to see you. 

“What are you doing here?” he said coldly, and both you and Ja’Marr flinched. His teammate gave him a weird look, but Joe was just staring at you blankly. 

“I’ve had these tickets since before the season, you know that,” you replied. 

“I didn’t want you to come,” he said and you tried to ignore the hurt you felt. “Did you not get the hint from me ignoring you all week?” 

“Oh, so is that why you stood up the charity?” You bit back. “So that I would ‘get the hint’?”

Joe didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw and Ja’Marr tried to step in. 

“I wanted her to come man,” he said and Joe snapped his head towards his friend. 

“Well just fuck her then and get over it,” he replied and your jaw dropped. Ja”Marr shoved him backward, yelling at him before security intervened. You recovered from your shock and turned around, abruptly leaving the stadium. You called an Uber to take you back to the hotel, and the massive traffic gave you a lot of time to process what had just happened. 

You could understand him being upset over the game, especially since it was so fresh in his mind. But it’s not like you went up to him; he came up to you. This man was supposed to be your best friend, and he basically just called you a whore to your face. This shit was ridiculous. 

30 minutes later, you were walking into the hotel. Ja’Marr had tried calling, but you declined. You called the airline you were flying with to see if there was any chance of flying out early, and you were lucky to snag a seat on the last flight out. You quickly packed up your stuff after changing into a comfier outfit and headed down to the lobby to check out and call a car. 

Turning to head out the door you stopped as you saw Joe walking in, his eyes trained on you. He looked miserable and he made his way towards you slowly. 

“Y/n..” he started, his eyes filling up with tears, but you stopped him from saying anything else. 

“I’m leaving,” you said emotionlessly. He tried to reach out to you, but you flinched back and pain flashed across his face. 

“I need to talk to you y/n,” he begged. “Please don’t leave.” 

“Why would I stay?” You asked softly. “Goodbye, Joe.” 

You left him standing there wondering why it felt like your own heart was breaking into two. 

—-----------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks since then, and you had successfully avoided Joe at all costs. He blew up your phone of course but you have yet to answer. Luckily he hadn’t tried coming to your apartment because he knew you well enough to know that it’d piss you off. 

You were on your way to hang out with Ja’Marr for a group movie night which he promised you that Joe would not be at. You don’t know why you even believed him; Joe’s car was parked in the front driveway and you almost reversed until you saw Ja’Marr waving his arms at you. Stepping out, you crossed your arms, waiting for him. 

“I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was here,” he started and you scoffed. 

“You were right.”

“I am miserable because he is y/n,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry but I will be selfish for a minute. He is being a dick at practice to everyone and isn’t throwing me good balls. He’s moody, won’t say a word to me, and won’t leave his house unless necessary. So please let him make it up to you. You two belong together.”

“He called me a whore Ja’Marr!” You exclaimed frustrated and gave you a sympathetic look. 

“I know he did, and that was terrible. I tried to fight him on your behalf,” he said, earning a small smile from you. “God I shouldn’t tell you this but he’s so in love with you it’s insane. He’s hurting and you’re hurting. Please just talk to him.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you said and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Believe what you want but get in there,” he said steering you towards the door. 

The good thing was that there were a few other people here from your friend group, so technically, you didn’t even have to talk to him. He was the first person you saw when you walked in so clearly, this was a coordinated effort between the two friends. 

Joe did look sad, and you wanted to be happy about it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. He was dressed down in grey sweats and a black T-shirt, his hair looking like he had run his hands through it over and over. His eyes were puffy, and that made your heart clench. 

“Are we ready to start?” One of your other friends called from the living room and you started to walk towards the room but Joe gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to him and letting Ja’Marr pass. 

“Can we talk?” He mumbled quietly to you and you nodded, letting him pull you into the study. You stood with your arms crossed as you looked at him, waiting. 

“I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I was hurting so bad and I took it out on you. The one person who has always been there for me.” 

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Joe,” you said, frustrated. “It’s not like it was just the comment; it was the week leading up to it, missing the event. I can’t be there for you when you don’t let me in.”

You had imagined how this conversation would go multiple times over the past few weeks. You expected an apology and another apology, but you did not expect Joe Burrow to start sobbing in front of you. 

He sunk against the wall and had his head in his hands while he was crying. Your shock wore off, and you knelt down in front of him, moving in between his legs. He looked up and your heart broke at his tear-stained face. 

“What is going on, Joe?” You asked softly, wiping some of his tears with your thumb. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Everything is going wrong, and I don’t feel like I’m in control. I do everything I can, and it’s still not enough.” 

“Oh Joey,” you murmured, pulling his head into your shoulders. He held on to you tightly as he cried and you ran your hand through his hair gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry I hurt you; I hated myself the second I said it.” 

“I forgive you Joe,” you told him, looking into his teary eyes. 

“I don’t deserve you; I’m not good enough for you,” he said. “I want to be enough for you.”

You cupped his face gently, making him look at you. Your own eyes started to water at the vulnerability he was showing.

"Joe, you’ve always been enough for me," you whispered. "You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. I’m here for you, not for what you do or don’t achieve."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his hands moving to hold yours. "You don’t understand, y/n. I don’t just want to be your best friend—I want to be everything to you. And I’ve been so afraid of ruining our relationship that I pushed you away instead."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Joe..."

"I love you," he said, his voice breaking, but his gaze held steady. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I didn’t know how to tell you. But pushing you away hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt on the field. I can’t lose you."

For a moment, the weight of his words left you speechless. You searched his face, finding nothing but raw sincerity. Your heart ached, but in the best way, as if it were piecing itself together after being fractured.

"I love you too, Joe," you admitted to him and yourself, a soft smile breaking through the tears on your face. "But you have to let me in. No more shutting me out, no matter how hard things get. We figure it out together, okay?"

His hands tightened around yours, and he nodded, relief washing over his features. "Together. I promise."

You leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead before resting your own against it. The two of you walked out of the study and into the living room, where everyone else was already engrossed in the movie. Ja’Marr looked between the two of you and at your connected hands and gave you a wide smirk. Joe moved to the big armchair and pulled you down with him, and you snuggled into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, and you finally felt content. 

[wbbpls]

Platonic Plus One

Chapter 12

Word count: 3400 we are almost there...gotta love a slow burn amiright

Last night changed everything. Azzi wasn't quite sure how yet, but she woke up this morning knowing something had shifted between her and Paige. They stayed attached the entire night, especially Paige. Nothing could remove Paige from the nook of Azzi’s neck last night. It’s like she decided that was her safe space to hide in until the real world came back to haunt her. With the sun just beginning to rise, Azzi lies awake, running her fingers through her blonde hair, when Paige mumbles something incoherent. 

“What did you say, P?”

Paige just cuddles further in, and Azzi laughs at the gesture. The gentle pattern of Paige’s breath lulls Azzi back to sleep. The next time Azzi wakes up, however, the bed is empty. She looks around the room and immediately checks her phone. No text from Paige. Shit.

Did last night scare her off? Is she freaking out? Sometimes, when Paige opens up she closes and locks here doors ten times fast. Either way, it’s not like Paige to disappear without a hint of where she’s at. As shitty as they are when it comes to communicating their feelings for eachother, they’ve never has issues over-communicating every other part of their lives. Before Azzi could entirely go into panic mode, the hotel door unlocked. 

“Oh, mornin’, Az. Sorry, did I wake you?” 

Azzi exhales in relief and then takes in the older girl in front of her. Paige is wearing athletic shorts, a cropped tank top, and a messy bun. She’s a bit red and sweaty, clearly coming from a workout. 

“No, it’s okay. I was awake wondering where you were.”

“Yeah, I felt antsy this morning, so I figured I should get a good workout in.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I would have gone with you.”

“You looked so cozy, Az. Waking you up would make me like a monster or somethin’. Anyways, I got you coffee.” Paige hands the iced coffee after taking a sip for herself. 

“Ugh, you’re amazing.”

“So I’ve heard,” Paige smirks. “Imma go shower, then we should head down to breakfast. It’s the last day before all the big festivities.”  

“Mm, okay, I’ll be here.” Azzi distracts herself by catching up on the TikToks sent to her that she’s been ignoring. Usually, she wouldn’t need the distraction, but seeing Paige after a workout and letting the thoughts of her in the hot shower was enough to let Azzi know she needed to refocus. 

Meanwhile, in the shower, Paige let the hot water fall on her and relax her muscles. She chose not to wake Azzi up this morning because she needed space to think and make sense of that past week. Azzi was right about one thing last night: she can’t live her life in fear, letting it dictate everything she does. And the thing she wants the most is the thing she’s the most scared to lose. Azzi. 

Paige replayed every kiss, lingering touch, and intimate moment between them. She knew what they had was real. Paige had a moment of clarity about what she would tell Azzi how she’d felt all these years. Paige rehearses all the things she could say to Azzi. 

“Azzi, the past week has been eye-opening, and I don’t think I can handle just being friends with you anymore. I love you, Az. Like head over heels in love with you in very much not a best friend way. And if you’re not into it, I tota—” 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. 

“Sorry, Paige, but I just realized we need to be at breakfast early to help set up!”

Paige sighed, letting the water hit her shoulders just a second more. “Kay, be out in a sec.” 

Paige forgot to bring clothes into the bathroom with her, so when she opened the door in just a towel, Azzi froze. The two girls looked at each other for a beat too long.

“Uh, sorry, I just need some clothes.”

“Y-yeah right, duh.” 

Paige walked past Azzi to the dresser in an awkward silence. 

“Any dress code for today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so? It will mostly be getting ready for the rehearsal dinner and last-minute preparation for tonight and tomorrow. We’ll change right before the rehearsal for the dinner and after party.”

“Aight, I like chill. You stayin’ in what you wearing, right?” Azzi has on a Uconn t-shirt and athletic shorts. Nothing special, yet Azzi’s heart still races when Paige's eyes track her body. 

“Yeah, I figured we’d be moving stuff today.” 

“Bet.” Paige grabs her clothes and heads back into the bathroom, leaving Azzi to finally take a deep breath. 

When Paige comes back out of the bathroom, she’s wearing grey Nike tech sweatpants that are sitting dangerously low on her hip, a sports bra, and her hair slicked back in a bun. She’s humming to Justin Biebers That Should Be Me as she walks back towards the dresser. Azzi’s eyes are stuck on her abs, so naturally turning into the V line before her sweatpants. 

“Forgot a t-shirt, my b.” Paige grabs a t-shirt and then turns to Azzi, uncharacteristically shyly and totally oblivious to Azzi’s view while she plays with the hem of her t-shirt. “Hey, Az, thanks for last night. Life feels like it has a little less weight to it now.” 

Azzi’s brain is in overdrive, considering she was just eye-fucking her best friend but now needs to respond genuinely. Azzi stood up from the bed and put her hand on Paige’s arm. 

“Of course, P. You know I’m always with you, okay?” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

The two girls smiled softly at each other, and Paige pulled Azzi in for a hug. Azzi’s hands are resting low on Paige’s bare skin. Paige breathed her in, letting the world pause for a moment before their day began. Before pulling away, Paige softly kisses under Azzi’s ear. 

“I’m always with you, too, Az.” She whispers. 

The girls finally pull away, and Paige quickly throws on a simple black t-shirt. 

“Ready, Princess?” Paige smiles softly at Azzi and puts her hand out for Azzi to take. She takes the soft blush on Azzi’s cheeks as a sign that maybe she felt something last night, too. 

====================================

The wedding party and their plus ones meet in the lobby to help the couple finish setting up for their big day. Mrs. Miller is focused on her clipboard, assigning groups and tasks. 

Paige leans into Azzi and whispers, “Jeez, you’d think we were in charge of organizing the damn olympics.” 

Azzi giggles and pushes Paige away with her shoulder. Never able to sit still, Paige sits down on one of the stools behind them and starts to mess with the bottom of Azzi’s shorts, causing her to tickle the younger girl. 

“Paige! Hands to yourself.” Azzi is scream-whispering, trying not to bring attention to them. 

“Nah, I don’t wanna.” 

Paige grabs Azzi’s hips, pulling her backwards between her legs. She wraps her arms around Azzi’s waist and rests her head on her shoulder. 

“This okay?”

“Mhm.” If only Paige knew how okay it really was. 

Azzi finds herself relaxing into Paige’s touch in an attempt to ignore the nagging ache in her knee. Despite her best efforts, of course, Paige notices.

“You okay, mama?

“Yeah, just a little sore.”

“Come switch with me.”

“No, P, I’m fine, really.”  But Paige is already standing up, shifting to stand behind the stool and pulling Azzi down. Azzi dramatically sighs, but sitting down actually helped so much. Paige rests her hands on Azzi’s shoulders and gently rubs them while Azzi leans back into Paige. 

“Feel better?” Azzi nodded and leaned her head back to smile up at Paige before refocusing on Mrs. Miller. From there, things felt easy for them again. Their conversations flowed with each other and those around them easily, without the weight of ‘what if’ taunting them. 

Eventually, they were broken into new groups to start carrying heavier supplies to the ceremony rooms, which would have been totally fine if it hadn’t been for Matt, the icky groomsmen, volunteering himself. He walks up to Azzi with a smug look on his face and nods his head at her before thoroughly checking her out. 

“Hey, babe.” 

“My name is Azzi.”

“Right, well don’t hurt yourself carryin’ anything too heavy, Princess.” Matt winks at her as he walks away. 

Azzi almost gags at hearing him call her princess. How is it so endearing and hot when Paige does it, but the grossest thing in the world when he does it? Not wanting one of her favorite names ruined, she immediately looked for Paige, but she should have known she’d already be there.

“Dude, she can easily lift more than you just pick up a box and move.” 

Paige rolls her eyes and speaks with so much confidence that Azzi completely forgets what she was upset about in the first place. Without hesitation, Paige picked up two large bags, which caused her muscles to flex and her shirt to lift, emphasizing how low those sweatpants were. Paige and Matt are the most efficient ones in the group because they practically used the task as a strength competition. Considering Paige brought more and didn’t even break a sweat, that win was pretty obvious. 

Eventually, Matt stopped trying to hit on Azzi when Mrs. Miller scolded him and sent him to a different area of the property. Now that the two girls can relax, they naturally become more affectionate and giggly. They kept stealing glances at each other from across the room, smiling when they noticed each other. 

Azzi walks up to Paige and wraps her hands around her biceps. “Who knew you were so strong?”

“Uh, me? I literally tell you all the time. I mean, look at these guns, man.” Paige lifts her sleeve to flex her right arm. Paige smirks when she sees Azzi gulp.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re still a noodle.” 

Paige leans in to whisper in Azzi’s ears, “Yeah, that’s only because you’re so hot that I get soft around you.” 

“Oh my god, Paige, that was so dorky.”

“But like, cute dorky?”

“Yeah, P, cute dorky.” 

====================================

Azzi returned from the rehearsal to Paige, who was asleep on their bed with her iPad open. Anyone else she’d roll her eyes, but somehow this is just endearing. 

“Paigey, wake up. We gotta get ready for dinner.” 

“I missed you, baby girl.” Paige mumbles, barely awake. Azzi’s heart started racing. She could really get used to this. 

“I missed you too, baby,” Azzi said softly as she moved the blonde strands out of the older girl's face. Paige smiles back and sighs into her pillow. 

Azzi starts getting ready, knowing that Paige is a slow riser and gets ready twice as fast. 

“Ugh, this zipper is so stupid,” Azzi mumbled under her breath and started angrily pulling at the zipper of her dress. She is wearing a short, silky dress with a deep V-line showing her cleavage, thin spaghetti straps, and bright hot pink heels. 

“Damn, what the dress do to you?” Paige laughed from the bed. 

“The zipper got stuck on the fabric, and I’m ready to give up.” Azzi pouts dramatically. 

“Can I help you, Princess?”

Azzi nods while keeping her pout. Paige walks right up to her and looks down at her lips. She’d do anything to kiss that pout right off her face. “Turn around.” Her voice had more rasp than she intended. Azzi, on the other hand, listened to her immediately. Paige’s telling her what to do with her voice lowered like that? Yes, chef is all Azzi could think in her head. 

At first, Paige was gentle with the fabric, trying to address the zipper without touching Azzi. Paige takes note of the lack of bra in this equation, making it harder to focus. She groans in frustration at the stuck zipper, and her competitive spirit takes over, leading her to be more aggressive with her approach. She grabs the fabric by wrapping her hand around Azzi’s waist and pulls hard, finally getting the zipper to work. Azzi expected her to get the zipper unstuck and then leave. Instead, Paige zipped her dress all the way and then let her hands linger on the bare skin. Azzi could feel her deep breaths and closeness, forcing her to take a deep breath to ground herself. 

Paige leaned in to whisper in her ear, “You look perfect.” Then, she walked to the bathroom as if nothing had happened. Azzi gathered herself and moved to the mirror to do her makeup. In the reflection, she saw Paige come back out in flowy black slacks and a high-neck black crop top. Something so simple shouldn’t look so good.

“Ready to bounce?”

Azzi’s eyes snap up to the blonde's bright blue eyes at the interruption. “Mhm.” She can’t trust herself to speak right now. They gather everything they need and head to the elevator, where Azzi finally finds the courage to tell Paige how she looks when she presses the button to the lobby. 

“I really like this outfit on you, P.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, a lot.” Azzi bites her bottom lip, stopping herself from saying too much, but her eyes already said it all. Paige steps closer to her, keeping eye contact, and then asks, “What do you like so much about it, mama?”

This girl is going to be the death of her. Thankfully, Azzi was quite literally saved by the bell of the elevator notifying them they had arrived at the lobby. 

The flirting and subtle touchiness only grew from there. At dinner, the two girls always found a way to touch one another. The wine started flowing, and their personal space started to disappear. Once they finished up, the wedding party gathered in the van to head towards the club. Azzi sits in a window seat, and Paige quickly slides in next to her, immediately putting her arm around her back like it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly? It was.

Azzi found herself shifting closer and inching her hand towards Paige’s thigh. It was intoxicating to experience Paige’s reactions. Once they made it inside the club, they found their private group tables and started ordering drinks.

As always, Paige was the life of the party, dancing and singing with everyone. But even then, she made sure always to keep close to Azzi, finding a way to touch her in any way possible. Azzi finished her drink and leaned into the blonde girl, enjoying the comfort she provided. 

“I'm gonna get you another drink, okay, pretty girl?” Paige kissed the side of her head and went towards the bar. Azzi was hypnotized by Paige. She found herself watching every move. It was oddly enjoyable to simply take Paige in. That is, until some girl walks right up to her at the bar. Paige is always so friendly to everyone she meets, which Azzi loves, but sometimes she wishes people didn’t feel so comfortable around Paige. The girl is giggling way too hard at something Paige said and leaning in closely. Jealousy takes over Azzi’s body. It’s not even at the girl throwing herself at Paige. It’s that she even can throw herself at Paige, and Azzi isn’t in a place to claim what’s rightfully hers. Thankfully, Paige didn’t pay much attention to the girl. Once she got the drinks, she nodded at the other girl to say goodbye and walked directly towards Azzi before sliding in next to her on the open booth with a toothy smile.

“Miss me, cutie?” Paige says, leaning in to kiss Azzi’s cheek and another, lower one on her jaw. 

Azzi takes the drink and immediately takes a sip, trying to hold back everything she wants to say. This proves to not help her at all because she still finds herself questioning the older girl. 

“You didn’t seem to miss me.”

“Hm?” Paige is mid-sip and looking very confused.

“Seems like you had plenty of company, that’s all.”

“Watchu talkin’ bout?”

“You had plenty of company up there. No need to come back and sit with me.” Azzi knows she’s being a brat, but she’s too far gone to care. 

“The girl that was talkin’ to me? Nah, she’s just some girl that walked up. Not my type anyway.”

Paige acknowledging her type alerts Azzi’s brain to refocus. She is reminded of her conversation with Caroline, in which she pointed out that all the girls Paige dates look similar to Azzi somehow. Azzi can’t help but grin at the opportunity handed to her.

“Hmm, so what is your type?” She leans closer into Paige. 

“I think you know my type, Azzi.”

“Maybe I want to hear you say it.” 

Their eyes meet, and everything around them fades. 

“Alright. I like pretty, athletic girls with beautiful smiles and curly hair.” Paige’s eyes dart down to Azzi’s dimple when she smiles.

“Interesting.”

Paige wrapped her arm around Azzi’s back, pulling her closer. “Interesting, indeed.” 

“Hm.” Azzi takes a sip of her cocktail. “Well, it seems like there’s plenty of girls interested in you.”

Paige never takes her eyes off the younger girl. “Like I said, none of them are my type.” 

The intensity behind her voice almost feels like a confession, giving Azzi the confidence to push more. 

“So what if your type was interested in you. Then what?”

Paige's eyes dilated at the thought of Azzi being interested in her. “Then I’d give her the world if she asked for it,” Paige said as their faces leaned closer and closer together. Her words were so sincere that something inside of Azzi broke. She closed the gap, entering into a heated kiss. Their kiss was almost animalistic, grabbing at each other, trying to get closer. Azzi hooks her leg around Paige’s hips, straddling her, causing Paige to gasp at the forwardness. 

Azzi slowly starts grinding into her while keeping eye contact. Paige’s hands gently move down the grip at her hips and begin to push her in harder. However, it’s still not enough. Azzi wants Paige to want her. Every bit of her. She wants her to grab her and make Azzi hers over and over and over again. Azzi starts to grind ever harder, creating a rhythm as she kisses Paige’s neck.

Paige responds by gripping tightly onto Azzi’s hips with a shaky breath. Azzi pulls at her hair to create more access to her neck, but the movement causes Paige to let out a moan. “Azzi.”

Finally, Paige is breaking. Paige is letting Azzi have her. Azzi licks and nips at her neck, keeping the rhythm of her grind into the blonde. Paige starts to move her hands lower on her hips towards her ass, making Azzi regret wearing spandex under her dress. 

Paige pulls Azzi back to her mouth, slowing them down by deepening the kiss. Azzi knows her noises would probably embarrass her, but she can’t find it in herself to care when she knows she’s one step closer to having Paige. 

Now Paige is the one to move down Azzi’s neck and suck at her pulse causing Azzi to grind down even harder than before and grab tightly onto Paige’s shoulders. Paige is shamelessly licking and kissing her way down Azzi’s neck and cleavage, taking advantage of the low dress. 

“Mmm, P. Tell me what you want.” Azzi is well aware that this isn’t the time or place to have this conversation, but all she wants is for Paige to want her. 

“I want, I w-want...” Paige’s moan interrupts her sentence, only encouraging Azzi more. 

“C'mon, baby, tell me.”

Suddenly, fear and panic crept onto Paige’s face as she started breathing heavily. “W-wait. We can’t do this.” Paige moved her hands off Azzi as if she was caught red-handed for a crime and began to slide out from underneath her before Azzi could fully sit up. 

“Wait, Paige! Can we just talk about this?”

Paige’s eyes dart between Azzi’s eyes. “I j-just...I—fuck..” Before Azzi can stop her, Paige turns on her heel, rushing towards the bathroom. 

Azzi is done. 

She’s done wonderding. Done waiting. Done hoping. 

She took a deep breath, fixed her dress, and decided that they were having this conversation whether Paige liked it or not.

[sturnsstar]

Adore You ✶ Matt Sturniolo

⋆.˚pairing: Extrovert!Yapper!FemReader x Introvert!Matt

⋆.˚warnings: porn with plot / minor discussion / reader can’t take anything seriously and overthinks a lot / miscommunication / Matt just wants reader to shut up / Matt is a communication king / pet names! / SMUT / fingering / brief jerking off / some dirty talk / p in v / no protection (USE IT) / they banter a lot

⋆.˚requested: no

⋆.˚summary: You and Matt have been together for almost 5 months now. Your lifestyle is pretty different from his, but you manage to find compromises throughout the relationship. One night, you convince him to accompany you to a party, where you start to overthink your relationship. Luckily, Matt is here to prove you wrong. 

P.S. english is not my first language.

It was 11 pm as I finished reapplying my gloss for the third time that night. I finally convinced Matt to come to a party with me. It had been a while since I last went to a big social event, since Matt doesn’t really enjoy them. He never stopped me from going, of course, but he generally declined my invitations to join me.

Tonight though he changed his mind: while I was in the middle of preparations he sent me a text, asking me where and when the party was. I was so excited to go with him: I liked showing him off, he was my best friend and the best thing that ever happened to me. I honestly didn’t understand how he could like me, given the fact our personalities were so different: I’m what could be described as a social butterfly, a yapper, always ready for a new adventure or a new party, the more people the better. Matt was somewhat shy but not really: he enjoyed being with his friends but he never liked loud places, which I, on the contrary, loved.

We somehow worked anyway: he’s the lighthouse I need to calm myself, the part of me that knows how to handle me and my moods. And I like to think I help him too, making him understand that sometimes going out and trying new things is not that bad.

He picks me up twenty minutes later and we drive to the house where the party is taking place. The host is one of my old schoolmates: she’s graduated University and wants to celebrate with her old friends. I begged Matt to come with me, mostly because I want him to know my friends better. The fact he’s here with me tonight means the world to me.

“Thank you for joining me” I say, taking his right hand in mine and squeezing it gently. “It means a lot”.

“Sure, sun” he says not looking at me but squeezing my hand back, his attention on the road. I notice his hand is a bit sweaty. He’s nervous.

“It will be alright. They will like you” I reassure him, confident in my words. There’s nothing not to like about Matt: he’s a kind soul, he just needs to be more open to let the rest of the world see it as well. He hums the tune of the song that’s playing on the radio, and I understand he doesn’t want to continue the conversation. I lay back against the seat and enjoy the rest of the ride with him, knowing he needs silence to relax completely. He doesn’t let go of my hand, though.

We arrive at the right address and he parks the car a bit far away from the house. He kills the engine and doesn’t move to open the car door.

“You don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable” I say calmly, smiling softly at him. He turns his gaze to meet mine, and I can see the anxiety in his eyes. “I won’t force you to do something you don’t want, Matt. We can go home, watch some movie” I suggest, not able to hide the bit of disappointment in my voice. He notices it.

“No, it’s alright. We’re here anyway” and he gets out of the car. I can’t shake off the feeling he’s forcing himself to do this. That’s not what I want. Reluctantly I exit the car and reach his side as we walk towards the house. I take his hand in mine for reassurance, both his and mine, and we enter the already full house together.

Immediately the smell of smoke reaches us. I wrinkle my nose as we make our way through the living room, looking for the host. We find her in the kitchen, two beers in hand.

“You came!” She yells as soon as she sees me, making her way through the multitude of bodies that stand between us. I laugh happily at her outburst and her wobbly walk and immediately greet her with a hug, letting go of Matt’s hand.

“Of course! How could I miss it?” I ask grinning widely. I move back a step to be next to Matt again. “This is my boyfriend, Matt!” I introduce him to my friend, and she screeches about the fact that she’s been dying to meet him. I sense Matt flinching but my friend doesn’t notice. I do, though. He’s uncomfortable.

“We’ll just take something to drink, is that alright? Then we can catch up later” I tell my friend as I grab two cokes from the ice bucket. She voices her agreement before she shrieks again as soon as she sees another girl that played volleyball with us in school. With that she leaves us. I turn to look at Matt. 

“Did you like her?” I ask hopefully. He shrugs. “She yells a lot,” he deadpans. My shoulders sag, knowing this would be his answer but hoping he would say something else.

He senses my disappointment and takes my hand once again. “Sorry, sun. I’m trying” he says, his brows furrowed and his blue eyes sincere. I soften, knowing this is hard for him. He’s doing it for me. I smile and get on my tiptoes to peck his lips softly. “I know,” I whisper. 

Sometime later we make our way to the garden, where a bunch of different seats are spread all around on the grass. We sit down on a sofa where one of my old schoolmates invited us to. He was on the baseball team, if I remember well. We never really connected during school, but we were always at the same social gatherings, somehow. Tonight, he’s as drunk as one can be and suddenly considers me one of his oldest and dearest friends.

“And then, oh, then remember when they dared you to jump into the neighbors pool, and you actually did that?” He asks loudly and I giggle nervously, remembering I was a bit wild in my early teens. “Yeah, well, they called the cops after” I remember bashfully. 

“You never told me this story,” Matt says. I blush. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t one of my best moments” I admit embarrassed. Why do I feel so awkard? He’s my boyfriend, he knows me and he knows this happened years ago. I feel like I’m trying to make a good impression on him.

“This is just one of many, Matt!” Liam laughs. “She was a beast! You couldn’t stop her” I eye him carefully, not liking where this is going.

“You’re exaggerating” I try to joke, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. Liam scoffs. “Exaggerating? Nah. I was there! And if I remember it right, you never gave a fuck about what others thought. What’s changed?” He asks playfully. I feel Matt stiffen. 

“Nothing. I just don’t do this staff anymore” I deadpan, my face set in a stoic expression. I don’t like this conversation, I don’t like this party anymore. 

“Whatever, you’re no fun” Liam scoffs, his attention on me finally over. He turns around to find his next victim and I worriedly turn to look at Matt, but I find his expression extremely calm. 

“Everything ok?” I ask tentatively, and he turns to look at me quizzically.

“Yeah? I’m not a child who’s never interacted with the world” he spits, rather brutally. He’s upset, he doesn’t like my friends. 

“Well, sorry I asked then” I bite back, turning away from him as another one of my old acquaintances calls my name. I chat with her for a long time, forcing myself to laugh at her jokes and smile at the right moments, trying to ignore the gloomy boy next to me.

This is ridiculous. I told him he wasn’t obligated to come with me. Now he’s here and he’s trying to make me feel like shit? I’m not having it. I can’t be ashamed of who I am and was: this is part of me, and if he doesn’t like it, I haven’t chained him so that he can’t leave whenever he likes.

Matt bounces his leg, making the whole sofa tremble, and I grow rapidly irritated. I feel overwhelmed by everything that’s happening: the people that were part of my daily life once felt like strangers now, the stories they’re telling are making me feel self conscious, and the glares I sense from Matt are making me mad. I get up abruptly, Matt follows.

“Something wrong?” He asks, suddenly worried. Oh, so now that he got what he wanted he’s suddenly worried about me?

“I want to leave” I say flatly, making my way to the door. He quickly comes after me, trying to keep up with my pace. Once we’re inside his car and he starts the engine, I feel his gaze on me.

“Were you not having fun?” He asks, and I almost believe he’s oblivious to how he made me feel tonight. 

“No, drive” I mutter, my cheek against the window. He doesn’t say anything as he wordlessly drives towards his house.

“I want to sleep at my house tonight” I say, hearing him take a breath.

“Why?” 

“I just want to”

“Your things are at my place, though”

“I’ll get them tomorrow”

“Sun, can you tell me what I did wrong?” He asks, his voice pleading.

Why do I feel like crying? I should be angry, instead I’m just ashamed. I haven’t felt like tonight in a while.

“Are you serious?” I whisper, turning to look at him. He senses my discomfort and quickly pulls over, killing the engine and turning his head to look at me.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, his brow raised.

“All night, you acted like I forced you to come with me! You kept puffing and huffing all the time. I was afraid to say the wrong thing and piss you off!” I outburst, my cheeks red and my eyes watery. 

Matt stays silent for a while, waiting to see if I have something else to say. I don't. Once he realizes this, he lets out a breath.

“Can I speak now?” he asks. I nod, my eyes on the road in front of us.

“I’m sorry you felt this way, sun. I tried to enjoy it. It was just too much. I felt overwhelmed by all the people there. And honestly I also felt stupid” he confesses. 

“What? Why?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“Because I feel like you don’t tell me things? I don’t know, it feels like you're always walking on eggshells around me.” he explains. I widen my eyes at his words. What is he talking about?

“I don’t know what you mean” I say defensively. He scoffs.

“Right. I feel like you don’t tell me things about your past. Why is that?” 

“Because of how you’re acting now” I raise my voice.

“And how am I acting?”

“Like you’re accusing me of something!” I snap, tears in my eyes. This is escalating way too far. And I know it’s my fault: he’s trying to explain himself while I’m being all defensive. I can’t help it. I don’t want him to change his view of me, but I feel like I’m slipping away.

“Hey, kid, calm down” he mumbles.

“Don’t call me kid.” I hate when he does that. He rests his head against the seat and closes his eyes. I watch him, scared he’s had enough of me. 

“Matt…” I whisper to get his attention. I have to explain myself as well. “Sometimes… I’m ashamed. I don’t like some things I did when I was younger, I know they were careless. I didn’t want you to think less of me if you knew” I admit. He tilts his head in that sweet way of his, a small smile on his lips. “What?” I ask, baffled. He shakes his head. 

“C’mere” he murmurs, gesturing to come closer. Slowly, I climb over the console with his help and finally rest my legs on each side of his. He holds me by my waist and pulls me closer. I let him. 

“Sun, you need to stop doing this” he says distractedly, fingers tracing my hip bone. 

“Do what?” I ask, my eyes transfixed on his long fingers. 

“Assuming things about me. Thinking I’ll get tired of you just because you never shut up” I lift my head rapidly, ready to snap at him again that if he doesn’t like my yapping, he can always leave me, but I see him grinning widely as his fingers start to tickle me. 

I snort very unlady-like and try to free myself from his grasp, failing miserably when he stops my futile attempts by kissing me. I mumble something intelligible as his lips press against mine over and over again, effectively shutting me up. I sigh into the kiss as my arms wrap around his neck, my fingers toying with his soft hair. 

His hands never stop touching me: my shoulders, my neck, my back, until they rest again on my hips, his fingertips grazing my butt.

“Sleep with me tonight” He murmurs as he trails kisses down the column of my neck, his voice husky and his warm breath making me shiver.

“You don’t really wanna sleep at yours, right, pretty girl?” he asks, biting down my shoulder gently. I let out a whine at the pet name, shaking my head slowly. 

“I thought you had enough of me for the day” I admit pathetically. He tuts and shakes his head, a smirk on his lips. “You think a lot, don’t you?” he mocks me as one of his hands trails my chest, feather-like touch making me squirm. 

“Shut up” I breathe when he finally cups one of my breasts through my top, his fingers gently tracing my erect nipple. He laughs quietly, seeing the reaction he has on me. Then, after one last kiss to my lips, he lets go of me, leaving me hot and bothered while he seems completely fine and ready to drive back to his place. I try to even my breathing as I watch him, his expression betrays his controlled demeanor. He still has that damn smirk on him, he knows I can’t wait to get home. His hand rests on my thigh, squeezing it gently every once in a while. 

“I don’t think less of you, just so you know” He breaks the silence of the car ride. I don’t say anything, my hand placed over his. “I’m serious, sun. I just wanted to hear about your past from you, not someone else.” he explains. I nod, a big weight lifting from my shoulders. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted” I answer, feeling awful that my fears overpowered me tonight, clouding my sense of judgment.

“‘s fine” he smiles, patting my thigh. He parks the car and waits for me before walking towards his front door. His brothers are probably asleep by now, but we try to be quiet anyway. He opens the door for me and as I pass by him, I feel his hand slapping my ass quickly. I turn around to tell him to stop or else his brothers will wake up but in a second he’s on me: hands on my jaw to turn my face up as his lips slot over mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth. 

He effectively shuts up every protest I had, as I blindly walk back into his house, his sure steps guiding me. If he makes me trip I’ll seriously be pissed. But he doesn’t. I don’t even realize it but we’re in his room, the door locked behind us. 

He walks me towards his bed, trying at the same time to kiss me and to take off my top. He struggles a bit and I laugh, squeaking right after when he spanks me again. “Matthew, I swear if you don’t quit it-” 

“What? I’m curious, what will you do?” he asks as he finally manages to get my top out of the way. As always, his eyes trail down to my exposed chest. It doesn’t matter how many times he sees me, he always acts like it’s the first time. I blush at his serious gaze, my hands trailing on his waist to get rid of his sweater as well. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He laughs teasingly and I scoff, my hand pushing his chest away from me. He doesn’t let me get far though as his arms lift me off the ground making me yelp. A second later, my back meets the softness of his dark sheets, him soon following after me.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” he mumbles under his breath, making me squirm under him.

“Come here” I urge him, my arms pulling him down towards me. He lets me, his hot lips peppering my face with kisses making me giggle and turn away from him. “Stop!” my laugh turns into a whine when he presses his hips against mine, making me feel how hard he actually is and effectively changing the mood. I try to breathe normally as I spread my legs to give him room, my skirt rising up on its own accord. Matt pushes it out of the way so that my panties are on full display for his hungry gaze. 

“Let’s see...” He mumbles as his fingers trace the cotton material. He looks up at me in mock surprise. “Who made you this wet?” he asks, voice husky. 

“Bloody Santa Claus” I joke, rolling my eyes. He doesn’t smile, though, just shakes his head.

“Do I have to gag you?” He asks rhetorically. I shake my head, giggling. “Sorry, my love” he smiles softly at the pet name and moves his hand under my panties, making me gasp at the sudden gesture. My breath speeds up as his agile fingers find my clit easily, making small quick circles just the way I like it. 

I moan wantonly as I try to keep my eyes open to watch him, on his knees between my legs with his hair now messy from my fingers. His other hand slowly caresses my face, his thumb on my bottom lip, making me slightly open my mouth. I kiss his digits one by one and take his thumb in my mouth, sucking it gently and hollowing my cheeks a bit, my eyes staring directly at his.

“Fuck” He groans at the sight, one of his fingers probing at my entrance.

“‘Gotta stretch you out a bit, pretty girl” He informs me like I’m not aware of the fact I need some preparation to be able to take him. I nod furiously as his long finger enters me slowly, making me get used to the sensation before starting to move in and out of me. Soon it’s two fingers, all the while his thumb never stopped working on my clit. I grab his biceps as I try to muffle my moans of pleasure.

“Matt, please…” I whimper, eyes screwed shut as I feel the coil on my stomach grow more and more, my legs moving uncontrollably.

“What do you need?” He asks me, his lips next to my ear as he keeps his ministrations going. He’s trying to sound calm but his cock pressing up against my thigh lets me know how excited he actually is.

“You know what I need” I breathe as he pumps his fingers faster.

He furrows his brows and I can sense what he’s thinking. Before I can say anything, he stops his movements, his fingers still inside me. I whine disappointed. “Why did you stop?” I ask, trying to move my hips up to gain some friction. 

“You didn’t answer me, so I just figured I had to stop” he teases me, making me roll my eyes. He wants to hear me beg.

“Come on, my love, please” I say sweetly, lifting my head up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I need you” I pant to his ear. “I was so close” and I end it all biting his lobe, knowing this would send him to another planet. He gasps, his fingers give an involuntary thrust that makes me squeal. 

“Yeah?” He asks gruffly. I hear the sound of a zip as he shimmies his pants down his legs until he kicks them away. My hands immediately go to his hips, still covered by his boxers. One trails to the front, where his dick is hard and aching. He must be uncomfortable, restrained like that: I decide to be kind and help him, taking his cock out of its confines. Matt lets out a breath of relief as I start to steadily stroke his length. 

He slowly lowers his hips to mine and slots his cock between my folds, making me gasp when his tip hits my clit repeatedly as his hips rock back and forth. I raise my legs and interlock them behind his back, pulling him flush against me. 

“Matt, I want it” I moan breathlessly, my hands on his hair.

“Yeah? Want my cock in your pretty pussy?” he asks me, panting slightly from the stimulation. I nod furiously, not wanting to wait anymore.

“See? It was easy to admit” Before I can think of some snarky remark, he aligns his cock with my center and slowly pushes in, effectively making me forget anything I was about to say. 

I feel him stretching me out so good, and I try to relax my muscles to ease his access. Matt’s brows are furrowed in concentration. Even with our banter, he’s always very attentive not to hurt me. I smile fondly at his expression and kiss his forehead, making him halt for a moment, his eyes bright. 

“I’m so in love with you” I whimper sincerely, taken by sudden emotion. He smiles back and kisses my lips slowly, his hips starting to move. I whine into the kiss, my hips lifting up trying to be at his same pace. His arms cage me and I feel so safe, so happy to be with him, in his bed.

“You have no idea how much I adore you” He moans against my shoulder, his hips going faster and faster, making my head spin. His hand slips down to play with my clit once again, making me see stars. My legs tremble once again around him, a tell tale of the fact I’m about to cum.

“Will you come around my cock, pretty girl?” he pants as he doubles his efforts to get me there. I moan in response and he laughs, kissing my temple.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re there. Wanna feel you” he mutters, and I know he’s close as well. With one last hard thrust I feel my orgasm crash through me, my whines muffled by Matt’s mouth on mine. 

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight” he groans, and I feel his dick twitch inside me as he lets out a long moan. He stills his movements when he comes, his eyes screwed shut as I hug him tightly against my chest, praising him in his ear. He tries to even his breathing as I trace patterns on his back, and we both lay silently on his bed in complete bliss. 

Some time later he slowly pulls out of me, making me shiver slightly. He grabs a glass of water from his bedside table and offers it to me, and I gladly accept it, gulping it down. We set under the covers, his head on my chest and his arms around me. 

He laughs suddenly. “What?” I ask, confused. He smirks, looking up at me. 

“Who would have guessed the only way to shut you up was to fuck you?” He asks proudly.

“Matthew I swear to God-”

a/n: feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

[d1xonss]

Practice Makes Perfect

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+)

✧ Word Count : 8.9k

AN ~ Okay, so this was originally a request sent in by anon, but when I first uploaded it, I wasn't completely happy with the turnout. It felt a bit rushed and there were some things I wanted to change so I figured I would reupload and try again. So in other words, if you've already seen me post this once, no you didn't:) Hope you enjoy! xoxo

ps- Daryl's a sub in this so if you're into that, this is definitely for you;)

Daryl stood slumped over at the kitchen counter in the shitty apartment he now called home, the space oddly silent as the kids were off with Carol for the day. But the quiet was nice, it gave him time to think, time to let his mind wander as he slowly woke for the day. The smell of coffee hit his nose as it brewed softly from behind him, the light streaming in through the opened windows to let in the fresh breeze. 

Though his gaze remained downcast at the piece of paper that sat in front of him, his eyes rereading the words over and over again to the point where he had it memorized. The neat cursive of your handwriting, the small errors in your spelling, and especially the little heart you placed at the bottom where your name was signed. You had left it the first time you came over, and even though you didn’t have a clue in the world, he had kept it ever since. Mostly because he didn’t have the heart to throw it away. Though there might’ve been another small part of him that held onto it because it was something you wrote out for him, and him only.

He reminisced about how stressed he was that day, having just moved into the Commonwealth with two of his kids, trying to figure out the new community and routine they would have to grow accustomed to. It was all very surreal having to go back to a “normal” kind of life, Judith already asking for allowance before he even had his first day of work made his head spin. But then with just a soft knock on the door, came a sight that he never expected to see.

You stood there on the other side, all pretty and perfect, wearing a smile on your face and holding out a container of cookies as some kind of welcome. You explained that you lived just down the hall and heard about the new arrivals, wanting to do something special as you expressed your understanding for how weird it must’ve felt for him. And after offering your baked goods and assistance to whatever they might need, all Daryl could do was nod his head as he stared at you dumbly. He wasn’t trying to be rude, in fact he appreciated your words more than anything in that moment. However, he couldn’t help but ogle you as if you walked straight out of a Disney movie or something.

And it was safe to say those feelings never exactly went away. In fact every time he saw you they only seemed to worsen.

The kids however were even more hooked with you than he was, your cookies really winning them over in the beginning as they finished them within a day and a half. “Marry her.” was the first thing Judith told him after tasting the delicious treat, and he couldn’t deny he was amused. Though he obviously wasn’t looking to date or marry anyone ever, the idea of eating whatever you baked for the years to come...it tempted him a bit.

But the reality of it all was that he didn’t want to ruin his blossoming friendship with you, it was far too precious for him to ever risk. That, and he had absolutely no experience with relationships whatsoever. He had kissed a girl once when he was about fifteen, but other than that, he hadn't been with anyone in his entire life. Never even showed interest in any woman that attempted to flirt or touch him as he simply didn’t ever feel the need to want that. He always preferred to be on his own, that’s just the way that it was. 

But now as he stood there, reading over your note you left on top of the container of cookies all those months ago, he knew he was in way over his head with someone like you.

Just then the front door suddenly opened up, the sound causing him to jump a bit as your familiar voice called out, “It’s me!”

It had become a common occurrence for you to just walk into each other's homes without knocking, and though Daryl didn’t mind, now was clearly not the time. He scrambled to open up a random drawer, tossing the note inside before slamming it shut again, “Kitchen.” he called back with a huff.

He saw your head peek around the corner a few seconds later, smiling as you adjusted the strap of your purse, “Hey, you busy?”

“Nah,” he said as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “Just…makin some coffee.” he gestured, offering you a thin lipped smile.

You nodded, “Where are the kids?” you asked, sitting yourself down at one of the stools across from him, “I found some things I think they’ll like, I figured I’d stop by and drop them off.”

“They’re out with Carol, she offered to take ‘em for a couple hours.”

“Oh.” you nodded again as you watched him turn around to pour himself a cup of coffee, “Well, that’s nice…you deserve some peace in the mornings every once and a while. I can just leave them here.” you suggested as you took the two little boxes out of your bag, placing them down on the counter.

He hummed a response before retrieving some milk and sugar to pour a decent amount into the mug, making you question everything as he was always adamant on having his coffee black. The way God intended or something. But then your expression softened a bit seeing him setting it down in front of you instead, making it the way he knew you loved.

“Oh, I don’t need any-” you tried to protest.

“It’s just coffee,” he said as if it were no big deal, “No roofies or anything, I swear.”

You snorted at his shitty joke, like you always did, raising the cup to your lips as you muttered, “Smartass.” just loud enough for him to hear.

He smirked a little at your response, pouring himself a cup of the steaming hot beverage as the two of you enjoyed it in the nice comfortable silence. His eyes never strayed away from you for very long however, almost as if he was casually taking in your appearance without you noticing too much. You always dressed up pretty, your hair styled to perfection, wearing some kind of boot or high heel, and paired with some fancy outfit that was far too much for the apocalypse. But Daryl never minded. In fact, he found it endearing.

Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit, noticing that it had been quite a long time since he had seen you. Usually the two of you would get together a few times a week simply because you had grown to love each other’s company. But recently you had been busy with other things, with other people. Perhaps that’s why he found himself staring at your note this morning, subconsciously missing you without even realizing it.

“You avoiding me or somethin?” he then broke the silence, his question lighthearted but a part of him was a little serious. His insecurities tending to get in the way of things.

Your brows furrowed a little, “What?”

He shrugged a bit, “Just noticed you’ve been busy lately…haven’t seen ya in a while. Miss ya.”

You gave him a sad smile, “Believe me, I’m not doing it on purpose, work has just been insane. We recruited a few new people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing, training them has been a disaster, and…” you trailed off as you looked at him, noticing the small smile he wore when watching you ramble on and on. “...I miss you too.”

“Then stay for a while.” he said, his voice soft, seeing if he could keep you a few extra minutes before you would ultimately have to go to work.

You sat up a bit straighter at the invitation, “Yeah? You want me to?”

“Course.” he reassured, though his statement made him feel a bit uneasy, roughly clearing his throat to slightly divert the topic, “Just…don’t get too comfortable cause you ain’t movin in.”

He heard you laugh softly, the sound being almost too perfect to be real, “Don’t worry, I know you like your little bachelor pad going on here.” you gestured.

He scoffed, “Yeah, when the kids ain’t hoggin it.”

You hummed before a slow knowing smile was brought to your face, gently setting down your mug, “You know, speaking of…I talked to Carol recently. She told me some pretty interesting things.”

He raised an eyebrow, whether it was one of concern or curiosity, you couldn’t tell, “Oh yeah? Bout what?”

“You. And…Connie.” you hinted.

A look of surprise crossed his face, “What bout Connie?”

You shrugged innocently, “She seems to think you have a little thing for her.” you said, taking another sip of your coffee as you looked around, “Maybe this won’t be a bachelor pad for long.” you winked.

Daryl was left baffled. Why Carol would think he had a thing for Connie, he had no idea. But she had gotten it completely wrong, and now the girl he had been pinning over was under the same impression from the misinformation. But he couldn’t necessarily correct you, not without you questioning why. This conversation couldn’t have been going any worse, and all because he just wanted you to stay for a damn cup of coffee.

He couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, running a hand through his slightly messy hair, “You and yer wishful thinkin, girl.” he tried to brush off.

You tilted your head a bit at his dismissive tone, “I just want you to be happy.”

The sincerity in your voice made his heart flutter in an unimaginable way, finding he couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto his face. This is exactly why he liked you, your heart was far too big for your own good. “Yer pretty sweet, ya know that?”

“I’m just being honest,” you spoke softly, “If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

He scoffed lightly in response, “Well, I appreciate that…but I don't think that's somethin I want...it ain’t really that simple for me. I can’t just…do that with Connie. Or any woman really. I ain’t good at that kinda stuff, I dunno what the hell m’ doin. I never even-”

A lump formed in his throat as he suddenly cut off the last part of his sentence, feeling his face get hot with embarrassment at what almost dared to slip out. He hadn’t meant to say that much, he never wanted to admit this kind of stuff to anyone let alone the woman he was enamored by. But now he had gone too far, he became far too open and honest about his inexperience, and now all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. 

Apparently, the conversation could get worse.

Though whether it was because of your innocence or the fact that it was early in the morning, you weren’t picking up what he was putting down as your face morphed into confusion instead. “Never even…what?”

Oh for the love of God.

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly as he ran a hand over his face, the redness spreading down his neck as he debated on whether or not to tell you. It was mortifying, the fact that he had gone fifty whole years without touching a woman was absolutely the last thing he wanted you to know. Yet at the same time, he trusted you. He trusted you wouldn’t laugh or make fun of him for the matter. And anyway, he felt it was a little too late to back out now given the intrigued look on your face.

“Never had…y’know…” he trailed off with a gesture of his hand, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually say it out loud.

A beat of silence passed before your eyes widened a little as you connected the dots. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. No way this man was a virgin.

“Shut up.”

Daryl felt his cheeks burn brighter at your disbelief, “M’ serious…I ain’t ever…done that before.”

“You’ve never had sex?” you asked as if to make sure you were truly on the same page.

He blinked, “No.”

You slumped back in your seat with a breath, “Wow…” you muttered, watching as he grew more uncomfortable by the second. Though you weren’t trying to make him uneasy by admitting such a thing, it just genuinely surprised you that he had gone this far in his life without sleeping with someone. I mean…he was attractive, kind, somewhat of a smartass. It was hard to believe no one had fallen for that sort of thing, causing you to wonder just how much he had missed out on.

You nodded to yourself, “We gotta get you laid or something.”

His eyes widened in absolute horror, clearly not expecting that response from you, “No, no that’s- what?” he exclaimed in disgust, “You ain’t gettin me laid.”

“Why not?” you asked in mild disappointment.

He set his mug down on the counter with a soft slam as he grunted in slight frustration, “Christ (Y/N), cause it ain’t that easy. I don’t just wanna screw around with someone, that ain’t me. I would have to have…feelings for that person to get that far, y’know?” he asked, silently pleading with you to understand.

His outlook made you slowly realize that Daryl wasn’t like any other guy you’d ever met. Well, you always knew that, but hearing his genuine words seemed to make you falter for a moment as you just simply stared at him. Any other guy would absolutely dive head first for the opportunity to have a random and meaningless hookup, something to make them feel good before forgetting about the other person as a whole. Using them to just get what they wanted. 

But Daryl…was the complete opposite; probably the biggest sweetheart the world had ever seen. You knew he would want to love and cherish that person he would share such an intimate moment with, treating them with the most respect and consideration. He would probably take it as slow as possible, not only to prolong the intimacy, but to make sure they were truly comfortable. You imagined him to be gentle and kind, even after the deed was done, he would continue to take care of them, offering to get them anything their heart desired. 

Thinking about all of this caused an unexpected flutter in your stomach, one that you didn’t expect. But you couldn’t deny it was there.

You blinked a few times to snap yourself out of it, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I know that…I honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” you smiled softly.

His shoulders relaxed a bit upon hearing your response, nodding in appreciation as he assumed the topic of conversation would end here, hoping to get out of this humiliating misery. But before he could speak, your gentle voice cut off his words.

“Is there someone you have feelings for?"

His eyes widened a little at the unexpected question, "...Huh?"

"Is there someone you’d want to, you know…experience that with?” you clarified.

He paused again, swallowing nervously as there was a certain heaviness to that question he couldn’t place. Of course there was. The way he felt about you was unlike anything else he had ever experienced before. In the beginning he denied it relentlessly, because he simply couldn’t accept the fact that he had managed to open up his heart to someone so special. But there was no denying it anymore, at least to himself. Though you on the other hand, could never know the truth.

“Nah.” he said simply.

You nodded slowly in understanding, quietly tapping your fingers on the counter as if you were trying to figure out what to say. “Well��if there comes a time where there is someone, and you need some advice…I’m always around.” you assured.

He nodded slowly, “Alright...” he said in appreciation, trying to mask how he was really feeling, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest at the thought of you seeing through him.

“Dropping the topic now.” you said as you raised your hands in surrender.

He chuckled gruffly, “Thanks.”

You smiled up at him, before catching a glimpse of the time blinking on the oven, “Oh shoot, I should go. I have to head into the infirmary in like fifteen minutes.” you said as you quickly drank one last mouthful of coffee.

Daryl tried his best not to let his disappointment show, nodding once more as his eyes followed you when you moved around to place your empty mug in the sink. Though the disappointment seemed to diminish when you turned around to give him a hug, your arms going around his shoulders as you gave him a soft squeeze. He found himself smiling at your familiar gesture, patting your back before he pulled away first, his hand lingering on your arm.

“Stay outta trouble, alright?” he mumbled.

“Always.” you promised in return.

An entire week had passed since that little talk the two of you had in his home, and it was safe to say that it had been plaguing Daryl’s mind ever since. He couldn’t recall the last time he was so open with someone, not being able to tell for certain if he regretted it or not. Though he couldn’t deny that your support and understanding wasn’t something to take for granted. But the longer he thought about the interaction, the more he wished he’d told you the truth.

Maybe he should’ve laid it all out there, but then again he had a lot to lose. Having no idea how you would react to his confession, he could potentially scare you off, and that was something he didn’t know if he should risk. He became a mess of emotions as he pondered endlessly over the things that clouded his thoughts. Although he couldn’t deny that he was slowly starting to find the idea of sex more and more appealing the longer he thought about it. Maybe having a little experience wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But that also meant having to ask you for that experience, and he knew he would rather die than put himself out there like that.

Though as the days dragged on and he grew more restless, he physically couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. This was way out of his comfort zone, he knew that, but he felt like he was going crazy at this point. At least if you said no then he could just move on and not absolutely spiral about the constant “what ifs.” So, with that in mind, he smoked an entire joint by himself in order to calm his nerves before gathering what little confidence he had left, and headed down to the infirmary where he knew you’d be at this hour. He couldn’t let himself think about the decision too much otherwise he knew he would surely chicken out. 

The door opened with a soft creak as he stepped inside, scanning the area for you. He disregarded the people sitting in the waiting area, clearly anticipating when their name would be called, opting out to peer around the corner to try and see if he could spot you. And sure enough he managed to catch a glimpse of your frame in the back, stocking up a nearby medicine cabinet as you organized a few pill bottles. You were wearing that little white doctors coat that he knew you hated, thinking it ruined your outfits. But he always found it quite attractive.

He awkwardly stood there for a moment as if debating whether or not to go back there, knowing he didn’t exactly have permission. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, letting out a small whistle in hopes to get you to look at him. It was a quiet, soft sound, but it caught your attention nonetheless, glancing over your shoulder to see him standing there lingering in the waiting room. He smiled a bit, gesturing with a hand as if asking if he could walk over to talk to you, to which you nodded almost immediately, waving him back.

Daryl let out a breath once you beckoned him to come over, silently slipping past everyone else to join you in your more secluded spot, “Hey.” he breathed.

You smiled, “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

Once you said that, it hit him. What was he doing here? He showed up to where you worked of all places to have this private discussion, not even considering the option to invite you over sometime to talk like adults. Maybe he underestimated how high he really was.

“Just uh…just wanted to see ya.” he said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he figured there was no backing out now, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Oh, um…” you trailed off as you looked around, making sure no one needed your assistance, “You might have to make it quick.”

He nodded in understanding, “Right, course…I promise it won’t take long.”

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat nervously, gripping the material of his jeans as he felt his palms begin to sweat, “You know, uh…you remember that morning you came over a few days ago? When we was talkin in the kitchen?”

“Mhm.” you nodded.

He swallowed thickly as his heart was beating concerningly fast, trying to force himself to just say it, “Well, I been thinkin…bout what you said and…all that,” he gestured with his hand, “Bout gettin some real experience.”

Your eyebrows raised a little, “Really? You changed your mind?”

“Yeah, I did,” he grunted, “I think it could help, y’know…get outta my comfort zone and whatnot. See what all the fuss is bout.” he joked dryly, purposefully dancing around the subject.

You smiled a bit in surprise that he was willing to take that step, knowing normally he wasn’t one for change or trying new things. But maybe this time he was really ready to put himself out there, and you couldn’t lie, you were happy for him. Though the more you thought about it, the more you became a bit discouraged at the thought of him with another woman. You didn’t know where it came from, this pang of jealousy, but you knew you couldn’t say anything. After all, you were his friend, and he clearly came here in search of the support you always provided.

So, you managed to push your lingering thoughts aside, smiling genuinely as you gave his arm a small nudge, “Well, I think that’s great.”

He hummed as he nodded his head, trying to force himself to just stop being a coward and ask, “But I also had…somethin to ask ya.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh? About advice?”

“Nah…not exactly,” he mumbled as he let out a heavy sigh, “I was just wonderin…if you’d…” he trailed off again as he took another moment to look at you. He knew there was no going back after he said this, questioning last minute if it was really worth it. But seeing that gleam in your eyes and the sweetness of your smile, the words just seemed to stumble out without his permission.

“If you’d be the one to give me some experience.” he said quietly, his tall frame leaning down a bit to mutter it quietly for your ears only.

Your stomach plummeted when you heard his quiet request, feeling as if the wind was knocked out of you as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. The way his tone dropped when he asked, the fact that he took a small step closer to tower over you more than he normally was. It was all doing something to do. The tension between you was there, thick enough to cut with a knife as you stared at him practically gaping like a fish, not knowing what to say.

On one hand, you were flattered, and a little turned on by the fact that he wanted you specifically to give him the experience he craved. But another part of you felt hesitant, as if you weren’t one hundred percent sure he knew what he was asking of you. You wanted him to get out there, escape his comfort zone, but you didn’t want him to do it just because you simply suggested it.

Though just as he was growing a bit worried at your silence, you finally spoke, “...Me? You…you want it to be me?” you whispered.

He let out a soft breath, “Well…yeah. I...I really like ya, and...I trust ya.” he admitted, gazing down at you with a certain gentleness in his eyes, “But you know…you don’t gotta if you dont want to. I ain't gonna pressure you or anythin, I just thought I'd...” he trailed off, realizing he was talking far too much.

But you didn’t feel pressured, quite the opposite really. You honestly just couldn’t believe this was actually happening, it was a lot to process, and you hardly knew what to say. Time seemed to be moving incredibly fast and slow at the same time as you stood there, staring at each other with a newfound feeling.

Though just as you were about to open your mouth to speak again, someone popped around the corner and called your name, clearly needing some help. Daryl silently cursed at the interruption, though it was to be expected. He was coming to the conclusion that this was probably the worst time to be having this discussion.

“Sounds like they need ya...” he said softly.

You tilted your head as you didn’t want to go, your expression turning sympathetic, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Daryl shrugged it off, “It’s alright.” he said, hesitating for a moment, before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. Your eyes widened a little at the gesture, the comfort of his touch, feeling yourself almost leaning into his hand before he took it away too quickly.

“I’ll um…I’ll see ya around, okay?” he said with a nod before turning to head out, not even giving you a chance to respond. 

You were a little shocked at his sudden rush to get away, but at the same time you understood. He must’ve been incredibly embarrassed and ashamed, especially since you hadn’t given him an answer. A part of you wanted to call him back, but you knew better than to do that, knowing he was already too far gone to hear you anyways.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to describe his regret as he walked back home, the distance between his apartment and the infirmary giving him way too much time to think. You didn’t seem completely disgusted, but clearly you weren’t a huge fan of the idea given the look on your face. He knew this was a bad plan from the get go, but he still somehow convinced himself to do it, now wishing he had never opened up his mouth at all. He felt a certain grief wash over him as he could imagine he had ruined whatever relationship he had with you, needing to learn to let it go. 

The remainder of the day passed by in a flash, ending with him taking a long, hot shower in an attempt to ease the tension in his muscles and the thoughts circling his mind. The water sprayed down on him like an element of lava given the harsh temperature, his fingers running through his wettened hair as he rinsed out the soap and bubbles. Perhaps the longer he spent under the running faucet, the more it would make him forget about the embarrassing events of the day. It caused him to wonder what you were thinking at this moment in time, but then again a part of him didn’t want to know.

“Daryl?”

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the sound of your voice, momentarily considering it to be just his imagination, but the sound of the front door closing with a familiar slam convinced him otherwise. What the hell were you doing here? And with the worst timing in the world.

“Y-Yeah? I’m in the shower.” he called out without thinking, the door being opened a crack and just enough to where he hoped you could hear him.

You fidgeted nervously near the front entrance, hearing his slightly muffled words made you rethink your decision to come over, seeing it clearly wasn’t the best time. “Oh, okay...should I um…should I come back later?”

“No, no,” he quickly called out again, “Just…just gimmie a sec.” he said as he frantically finished up before you had the chance to leave.

With his reassurance in mind, you stayed put as you waited for him, briefly hearing the water shut off after only a few seconds. Your thoughts ran wild as you pondered over the things you wanted to say, having not been able to take your mind off the interaction for your whole shift. It was distracting, nerve racking…but it was also a bit enticing. You had no idea what you were going to say to him, but one thing was for certain, you weren’t about to deny that his request didn’t intrigue you.

The sound of his footsteps approaching is what snapped you out of your thoughts, your eyes widening a fraction as you saw him step into the living room in nothing but a towel. The truth was, he was just far too anxious to hear what you had to say to take the time and put on real clothes. Though now as he stood a few feet from you with just a thin piece of fabric shielding him, he felt a little exposed under your lingering gaze. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, his messy hair sticking to the sides of his face and the water droplets that clung to his skin, it truly was a sight to behold.

Had you always looked at him like this? From the moment you met, you always saw him as a close friend and someone you could count on for anything. But now it was like a switch flipped or something, nearly drooling as you saw him in a way you never had before.

“Somethin you need, sweetheart?” Daryl’s voice broke through the silence.

You blinked a few times as you were brought back to the current situation, nodding absentmindedly, “Yeah, uh…I was hoping we could talk.”

He shifted a bit on his feet, subconsciously tugging his towel up a bit, “Bout what?” he asked dumbly. He knew why you were here; he just didn’t know what else to say.

You gave him a look that made him feel stupider than before, “About earlier…” you trailed off after a moment, attempting to find the right words, “Were you…um…did you really mean all that?”

He shrugged, “Yeah…” he breathed, “You really think I didn’t mean what I said?”

“No,” you quickly reassured with a shake of your head, “It’s just…it was all really unexpected, you know? You’ve never done anything like this before, and now all of a sudden, you’re asking me-”

“I know how it looks,” he said as he dared to take another step closer to you, “But…I’ve had these feelings for ya ever since you first knocked on that damn door, alright? It’s new to you but it ain’t new to me.”

Your expression softened as he admitted this wasn’t some spur of the moment thing, not that you thought it was. But his confirmed feelings for you only drew you closer to him, hearing the assertiveness behind every word.

“Look,” he sighed, “Goin down there and askin ya that was me bein a fuckin idiot. I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, hell, maybe I shouldn’t have even asked at all...I don’t know. But I don’t want ya to feel like ya owe me a damn thing, cause ya don’t. If you don’t wanna do this-”

“I want to.”

Daryl paused for a moment when you interrupted him, feeling a bit shocked that you had made your decision just like that. But then again, you did have hours to think it over. Meanwhile he didn’t even have to think twice when it came to you.

“Y-You do?” he asked, not meaning to stutter. He was just thrown off and absolutely floored that someone as breathtaking as you would agree to something like this with him of all people.

You took a breath as you stepped closer to him, leaving just a few inches of space, “Yeah…I really do. Honestly, I’m...pretty flattered.”

He felt a sudden burst of nervousness in his chest as the reality of the situation began to set in for him. You wanted this too. He could easily see how genuine you were being as you moved to be closer to him.

Clearing his throat gruffly, he spoke again a bit quieter, “Yer flattered?” he couldn’t help but chuckle, “Ya don’t even know the half of it.”

You smiled a little, sensing both his eagerness and unease which you seemed to find charming, “It’s just me.” you reminded.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah I know…” he said as he hesitantly rested his hands upon your arms, as if to help steady himself. “I just…I don’t know what m’ doin.” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I know,” you reassured, “I’ll show you…you trust me?”

He nodded again, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he grew more anxious by the second. Not because of her, but because of the unknown. But it was clear he was in good hands. “I trust you.”

With his simple nod of approval, you reached up to gently grasp the back of his neck, before pulling him down to meet you halfway where your lips clashed together. He gasped quietly against your mouth, the softness of your lips already addicting as his hands instinctively squeezed your arms, wanting to keep himself grounded. The taste of you was better than he ever could’ve imagined, heavenly, unreal…but what else did he expect from someone as perfect as you? As the kiss deepened, you slowly coaxed his mouth open so you could slip in your tongue, his groan in response to you only encouraged you to keep going. His kiss was hesitant and a bit sloppy, though you couldn’t help but love it.

Your free hand moved up to his wrist, guiding his hand down toward your hip as if silently encouraging him to touch you. Daryl received the message loud and clear, but he was still a bit clueless when it came to how, slowly allowing his hand to roam the curve of your back blindly. He then pulled you a bit closer to him, wanting to feel every part of you against his skin. But with his swift movement, caused his towel to nearly slip all the way off his waist, feeling him quickly grab it before it had the chance to hit the ground. 

He cursed quietly as he pulled away from your mouth, his breathing coming out in short, harsh pants as he grew a bit flushed at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. You allowed him to collect himself for as long as he needed, noticing the red that dusted his cheeks, but you still didn’t miss the blatant lust that filled his eyes.

Your hand reached up to gently brush some hair away from his face, “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.” you spoke so softly, so patiently, leaving a few kisses on his cheek as if to help ease him.

He sighed shakily, trying to gather himself as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the feel of your touch, “I know, just…never been this exposed in front of anyone before.”

“I know,” you assured again, your mouth traveling to gently nip at his earlobe, “How about we move to your room? And you can take it off when you’re ready.”

Daryl hissed softly as your teeth grazed his ear, nodding frantically at your suggestion, “Okay…yeah.” he said breathlessly before taking your hand to guide you back down the hallway.

In a flash he had taken you into his room, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you before you gestured for him to sit down on the edge of his bed. He followed your suggestion without saying a word, willing to do just about anything you wanted right now with how incredibly turned on he was. Though he was extremely nervous, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted you, how many times he had imagined himself in situations much like this one. Completely at your mercy.

His eyes followed your movements as you came to stand in between his legs, cupping his face to angle it up toward you. “Just relax.” you whispered before slowly kissing him again with a little more force than before.

This time he couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, feeling the smoothness of your skin on his aging cheeks, his body physically shuttering. His hands reached out to pull you closer to his bare chest, wanting your body flush against him as his touch seemed to roam a bit more confidently. You felt his hands travel down to squeeze your ass, groaning into your mouth as your tongue invaded his mouth to taste him again. At this point he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a dream, or some kind of sick hallucination, his mind tricking his body that this was actually happening with how fast they seemed to move. But he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

You smiled against his lips as he gently groped your ass, your hands moving up towards his hair to give the roots a gentle tug as your mouths worked frantically. A shiver ran down his spine, the action making his head spin. You were so good with him, so gentle yet so firm as well. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking away from your mouth briefly, his lips moving down your neck as if he wanted to trace and memorize every last bit of your skin.

You sighed softly as your head instinctively tilted back for him, “You sure you’re a virgin? You seem pretty good at this.” you teased lightheartedly.

Chuckling against your skin, he took his time to kiss the underside of your jaw a few times before responding roughly, “Just have a good imagination is all…”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

He nodded a bit timidly against your neck, growing a bit shy at the admission, “A lot, actually…”

A smile broke out onto your face as you looked down at him, “Well, now I’m even more flattered.”

He groaned in slight embarrassment as he buried his face in the side of your neck, the words just slipping out without him being able to stop. His mind was too far in the clouds to realize fully, the lingering effects of the weed he had smoked making his mind a bit hazier. But he desperately wanted to remember every little detail, his hands trailing down toward your thighs as if he was itching to memorize your body.

“Here...” you then spoke again, moving his hands up toward the buttons of your blouse, “Help me out.”

Daryl looked back up at you with slightly widened eyes, swallowing thickly as he gave a shaky nod, beginning to undo them one by one. His calloused hands, though rough, couldn’t have been more gentle when it came to touching you. He treated every part of your skin like it was delicate glass, a piece of art to admire, as he almost didn’t feel worthy of being in this position. How could he have gotten so lucky when this was the last thing he thought he deserved.

“Keep going,” you encouraged when you felt your top fall to the floor, feeling his hands hesitantly move to unzip your skirt.

The piece of fabric slowly slid down your smooth legs and bunched at your feet, leaving you in practically nothing as you believed bras were a waste of time and effort to wear. His eyes took in every inch of you, mentally trying to capture this moment as he was already reluctant for it to end. And yet it hardly even started.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered as his hands reached out to touch you again, his face filled with desperation.

You smiled as you looked down at him, “Yeah?”

He nodded instantly, “Yeah…I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you leaned down to be aligned with his face, “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” you said sweetly before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

Daryl let out a breath as you kissed his cheek, the reminder that this was far from over was almost reassuring. His growing need and want was beginning to be unbearable, his hands gripping your thighs a bit tighter as he felt his erection start to ache.

“You wanna take that off for me?”

Upon hearing your request, the gesture of your hand that pointed toward the towel still around his hips, he grew a bit anxious. It was no secret that he was a bit insecure with the way he looked, he was older, his hair and beard a bit graying, his skin worn and scarred. He knew he was about to be fully vulnerable with you, that being both a good and a bad thing. He did trust you, but he just hoped you liked how he looked despite the fact that he didn’t.

It took a moment for him to build up the courage, to which you were incredibly patient, before he finally pulled the towel off of him, leaving him completely bare in front of you. But your reaction was far from a negative one. Your eyes widened a little as you took him in, not being able to see his flaws he was so worried about as you were solely focused on how breathtaking he looked. His arms could’ve been sculpted by gods, his toned chest rising and falling with every heaving breath, and as your gaze traveled south, you were shocked at the bragging rights he seemed to hold. 

But the thing you wanted him to know the most, was that he was just as perfect to you as you were to him.

Though seeing his pleading expression seemed to stir something inside you, quickly slipping off your thong before stepping forward to straddle his hips in a fit of impatience. His eyes widened at your fast actions, but he wasn’t about to complain, his hands immediately going to your hips to hold to in place as he loved the feel of your skin against his. He didn’t know what to do now exactly, but he did know that he wanted more of you.

“You’re so handsome.” you praised, your mouth coming down to suck softly on the side of his neck. "So perfect for me."

A small gasp escaped him at your praise, your mouth working against his skin caused him to nearly melt beneath you. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but handsome and perfect were never one of them. It was new, different…and he loved it. He soaked up everything he could like a sponge, wanting to ravish in your touch forever. But when he felt you begin to rock against him, stroking his length with every pass of your hips, he couldn’t help the strangled moan he dared to let out. His hips instinctively bucked up against you in return, unable to help himself as he craved more than what you were giving him. All he could feel was his heart racing, his skin burning up, and his dick twitching as he physically needed more. His face nuzzled in the side of your neck, breathing you in as shivers of pleasure ran through him like currents of electricity.

You hummed, “You like that?” you asked, your mouth hovering over the shell of his ear where your teeth grazed his sensitive skin.

Daryl nodded his head frantically against you, losing himself in the lust he had never felt before in his entire life, “Yes…yes, I like it.” he stuttered out desperately, gripping onto you as a signal not to stop anytime soon.

He had never felt so good, the rhythm mixed with your kisses and taunting praise, he felt he could’ve imploded right then and there. He wanted more, his body craved more of you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. His breathing was ragged at this point as he tried to hold himself back, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck as his lips began to place soft kisses against your skin. But as your pace grew more tortuous and slow, he couldn’t help but writhe and moan beneath you, not being able to take much more of your teasing.

You felt him pull back to look up at you, a distressed look painting his face, “Please.” he nearly whined. It was a tone you had never heard from him before, finding that you loved the way he was falling apart for you.

“Please what, honey?” you asked sweetly as if you didn’t already know, cupping the sides of his face, “Tell me what you want.”

A soft whimper escaped him in your agony, knowing damn well you knew what he meant. He looked up at you pleadingly, the smooth skin of your hands on his face feeling so good, but not good enough. “You…” he whispered needily, “I want you…please.” he begged.

Whilst he was beneath you, whimpering and pleading for you to fuck him, you on the other hand learned something new about yourself. The scene that played before you was something sinful, but you loved it far too much to feel even a little bit guilty. The burly man you had come to know as tough and stoic, just whimpered because of you. And for that, you had no choice but to give him what he so desperately needed.

In an instant you slowly sunk down onto his length, the size of him causing a moan of your own to escape through parted lips. Though Daryl on the other hand groaned loudly as he felt your tight walls enveloping him, his head falling back as he bit his lower lip in an attempt to silence the noises you threatened to pull from him with one simple move. It felt like he had just walked through the pearly gates of heaven, the feeling so surreal and pleasurable he couldn’t help but let it cross his mind.

As you adjusted to him, you looked down and studied his face, his brow already lined with sweat and his expression one of pure bliss. “You look so good like this.” you whispered, your finger gently tracing his jawline.

He wanted to scoff at your comment, thinking that he no doubt looked like a mess in front of you, but he couldn’t help but feel prideful at the thought of you loving it. It made him feel good, perhaps more confident even though he was fully flushed and exposed.

Though as he felt you begin to move, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and a low moan left him in response, feeling the heat in his stomach already beginning to build. His hands moved from your hips down to your thighs as if to encourage you to keep going, giving them a firm squeeze as he panted to try and catch his breath. He felt as if he were going insane with the waves of pleasure washing down upon him, the feeling like no other as he knew he was a goner from the moment you agreed. His head was spinning though he tried to concentrate, not wanting it to ever come to an end as he watched you steadily pick up the pace from above him.

His mind was lost on him as your movements quickened skillfully, his hips pathetically trying to match your pace though he was failing miserably. But he didn’t care. It felt too good to care. His fingers nearly dug into the soft skin of your thighs as he whimpered and squirmed, feeling himself already starting to chase his high. He felt a little embarrassed that it had taken him close to nothing to reach his peak, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop.

Daryl grew desperate to say something, to warn you that he was getting more and more overwhelmed with the feeling of ecstasy, though he wasn’t able to form any coherent sentence. All that managed to come out were pathetic whines and moans as he desperately tried to pound into you, looking up at you with widened eyes in hopes you would get the message.

And you did. You understood completely. With a simple kiss on his lips and encouraging words, you let him know that it was okay. “I know, honey, I know.” you said sweetly, “Let go for me.”

He whimpered against you lips when you kissed him, hearing your words made him feel a bit more at ease as he felt himself just on the brink of losing all control he had left. But he couldn’t help the way you were making him feel. With his mind beginning to cloud and the desperate movements he made, he finally felt himself release deep inside you, burying his face in your neck as he came. You slowed down your pace a bit as you guided him through his high, trying to make it last as long as possible for him as he just gripped and thrusted into you harder. Near sobs began spilling from his lips as he clung onto your limbs, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as his body was practically vibrating.

He hadn't meant to be this much of a mess, completely falling apart from underneath you as he chased his high so desperately. But with how unbelievable you made him feel, it was like he had no control over the noises he made t or the emotions he felt. Like you had complete control. And he loved it more than he was willing to admit.

It took him a while to come back down to earth, but you waited patiently the whole time, running your fingers through his tangled mess of hair as he collected his hazy thoughts. Though he couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed and a bit vulnerable, knowing he didn’t last as long as he would’ve hoped. When he finally gathered the courage to look you in the eye, he feared your reaction, as if he expected you to regret what just happened.

But instead you smiled, “You okay?” you asked gently.

All he managed was a small nod in response, letting out a breath as it was clear you weren’t upset in the slightest. But as his mind wandered a bit, he began to feel selfish, realizing he couldn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel. Leaving him overthinking the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m sorry.” he then whispered gravely.

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “For what?”

He blushed a bit with embarrassment, almost not wanting to explain his reasoning for speaking up in the first place. But your gaze remained expectant, and he knew he should answer. “For not…makin ya feel good.” he said sheepishly.

“Hey…” you said softly as you titled his head up to look at you, “You did make me feel good.”

The truth was you enjoyed yourself, even if you didn’t finish, you didn’t care. He was still new at this, and that wasn’t something you were about to shame him for.

He grew a little surprised at your admission, “But…you didn’t…” he trailed off, almost not wanting to say it out loud.

You smiled a little at his lack of words, “It was your first time, Daryl. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” you said, kissing his cheek reassuringly.

He sighed, “I know…but I wanna make ya feel good too.” he tried to explain.

“You will,” you nodded, “Practice makes perfect, right?” you said with a small wink.

He perked right up at that, the idea of doing this again with you hadn’t even crossed his mind. He assumed it would only be a one time thing, but hearing you say that sent a spark of excitement through him.

“So…there’ll be a next time?” he asked, trying to hide his hopefulness.

You laughed softly, “Only if you want there to be.”

He quickly nodded, he would have to be an absolute fool to say no to something like that. “Course I do…I want ya…as many times as you’ll let me have ya.”

Your smile widened as you leaned in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to bring him flush against you. He groaned softly as his hands danced across your back, suddenly feeling very grateful. He almost couldn’t believe someone as kind and understanding would actually want him, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it for very long. Just simply wanting to live in the moment and not take it for granted.

“Wanna go again?” you asked against his lips.

“Mhm.” he hummed immediately as he deepened the kiss, his response not having any hint of hesitation. It made you laugh softly, feeling him already getting excited all over again. It was safe to say it was going to be an eventful night.

~ Thanks for reading!

[corroded-hellfire]

Throwing a fluffy idea out there: Eddie volunteering (possibly for community service after getting busted for something silly) at a pet shelter. The kittens trying to play with his hair, him rough housing with the dogs to help get them some playtime and exercise.

Eddie loves animals and no one can change my mind. All I want is to see him with these fuzzy little babies 🥺

Words: 3.1k

Hopper was a good guy. He knew deep down Eddie was a good kid and that if he was the worst criminal that Hawkins had, things were going all right. But that didn’t mean that the chief of police wouldn’t lay down the law once in a while with the small-time drug dealer. 

Eddie had gotten the choice between a few nights in the tiny town jail or volunteering at a pre-approved Hawkins business. Not wanting to spend time behind bars, Eddie grumbled as he took a look at the list of volunteer options. Spending any time at a medical facility was an automatic no and Eddie wasn’t sure how picking up trash would keep him away from drugs when all he’d want is to smoke a joint after the arduous task. 

The Hawkins Animal Shelter immediately seemed appealing, though. Growing up, Eddie had always wanted a dog, but his dad couldn’t afford to own one and Wayne is allergic. Thinking of spending time with the dogs and cats that didn’t have families of their own brought a smile to his face. Maybe part of it was that he didn’t have a stable home life before coming to live with his uncle, so he could relate to the sweet, innocent animals. 

His first day on the job, Eddie jumps out of his van and tosses his leather jacket on the passenger’s seat so it won’t get covered in fur or drool. The gravel crunches beneath his boots as he heads towards the front door. Barking can be heard before he even grips the dull copper doorknob. 

There’s an older woman seated behind a desk as soon as he walks in, who looks up at him over the rim over her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Munson?” Her voice is deep and raspy, the pack of cigarettes sitting in front of her the obvious culprit.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says.

The woman nods her head to a yellow door covered in scratches—mostly on the bottom half. “In there. The girl will show you what to do.”

The girl. Eddie doesn’t even know who she is, but he’s offended on her behalf by being referred to in that way. Giving the woman a quick nod, Eddie heads over and through the door, eager to be out of her presence. 

The sound of dogs barking and yipping is even louder in the back hallway, and now it’s joined by the high-pitched meowing of cats. It brings a smile to Eddie’s face as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. He turns a corner and sees a girl bending over into one of the dog’s kennels. As excited as he is to see the animals he’s going to be spending time with, he admires the view of the nice ass in front of him first. A particularly loud woof from a Pomeranian has the girl standing up straight and Eddie is quick to avert his eyes, hoping he can keep up the facade of being a gentleman for more than five minutes.

“Oh! Hi, Eddie.”

At the sound of his name, Eddie looks back towards you. A smile breaks out on his face as he recognizes you from school. The two of you never really spoke before, but he couldn’t deny that he’d always thought you were very pretty. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here,” he says.

“Nope, just volunteer,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the thighs of your jeans. 

“And I bet you weren’t even threatened with jail time,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. You giggle and it makes Eddie’s stomach flip in a way that’s unfamiliar to him.

“Let me guess, Brenda sent you back here with a huff?” A dog clamors for your attention in a kennel to your right and you reach in to scratch behind the chocolate lab’s ear. 

“I assume so,” Eddie says with a shrug. “She didn’t bother introducing herself before ushering me along, saying you would tell me what to do.”

“Hmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes as if inspecting him. “Can anyone really tell Eddie Munson what to do?”

This makes him laugh and it scares a skittish poodle to his left.

“Aw, I’m sorry, pal.” Eddie crouches down and holds his knuckles up to the kennel door to let the white, fluffy dog give him a sniff. 

“That’s Stella,” you tell him. “Her brother Bruno is on the pillow back there asleep.”

Eddie’s eyes roam over to the dark gray poodle snoozing away in the back corner. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world and Eddie envies that. 

“Do you know all the animals’ names here?” Eddie asks as he stands back up.

“Sometimes it’s hard to keep track because they come and go, but yeah, I think so,” you say. “Hmm, okay, I was just about to go change the kitty litter. Want to come along and distract the kittens? You wouldn’t believe how much they get in the way.”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees as he follows you down the hallway. As soon as you open the door to where the cats are kept, a cacophony of meowing floods his ears. There are different volumes and different pitches blending together to create a song of cat chaos. Eddie realizes he must be staring when he hears a soft giggle coming from your direction. Ducking his head, he clears his throat and turns towards you. “What should I do, boss?”

“Well,” you say as you walk over to a few of the cubbies the cats are residing in, “I’ll let a few out at a time, you distract them with the toys or maybe even some treats and I’ll clean their boxes. Then we try to corral them back in and start over again. Ready?”

There’s an array of cat toys on the far side of the small room. Fuzzy mice, balls that jingle, some with feathers, and a few cat wands. Eddie grabs a bag of cat treats off the shelf–which means every little eyeball in that room is on him–and settles himself on the floor next to the toys.

“Ready.”

The first batch you let out consists of five cats–ones that you know for a fact get along, you inform him. There’s a calico named Turtle, an orange and white one named Eric, an all-white called Kissy with the bluest eyes Eddie’s ever seen, and two small kittens. They’re both tabby cats with stripes, but one is grey with black stripes and the other is a soft orange with darker stripes; named Pepper and Chili respectively. Unsurprisingly, the kittens are the first ones intrigued by their new visitor. Tiny paws pad over the linoleum floor until they’re both standing right in front of Eddie. Now that they’re this close though, they get a bit shy. Their eyes are so big for their little heads, Eddie thinks, and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute they are. Chili decides to be the brave one and takes on the scary task of crawling up Eddie’s leg. 

“Jesus,” Eddie winces as sharp little claws dig through the material of his jeans and prick at his skin. You pop your head out from one of the kennels and give him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah. I don’t know why but kittens’ claws are sharper than adult cats,” you tell him.

“God, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” Eddie tells Chili as the little furball stops to sit on Eddie’s thigh. As if seeing that his brother is safe, Pepper jumps up and follows the trail the ginger cat had led. “Ah, both. Great.” His words are joking, but the way he grits his teeth as Pepper’s claws do their little pricks of damage is very real. 

Turtle makes her way over and begins to chew on the top corner of the treat bag. Kissy immediately wants Eddie to pet her, and Eric is content to sit about a foot away and watch the others interact with the human on the floor. 

You peek over your shoulder as you empty the dirty litter into the garbage can beside you, and smile when you see Pepper standing on Eddie’s lap with her two front paws pressed right over his heart. Her tiny head bobs as she inspects Eddie’s face, little pink nose twitching as it works. 

Chili has to outdo his sister and jumps right up to Eddie’s shoulder, as if he were a pirate and Chili is his trusty parrot. The ginger cat noses at Eddie’s curls before deciding to take a taste. He opens his mouth and Eddie is glad that hair doesn’t have nerve endings when Chili sinks those little needles that he calls teeth into the strand. 

By the time you get finished cleaning out the litter and refilling the food and water, Pepper is up on Eddie’s other shoulder, chewing on hair on that side of his head. Kissy is curled up in Eddie’s lap, purring contentedly as she snoozes. Turtle is still trying to figure out how to get into the treat bag, and Eric decides he can trust Eddie enough to rest his head on Eddie’s ankle. 

“Well, don’t you all look comfy,” you say as you stroll over to them. 

“Cats have no boundaries,” Eddie says with a smile.

“Not a one,” you agree.

Eventually, you get them all back in their cubby condos and are able to move on to clean the other cat’s areas.

When you get to the last one, you open the cage door and reach in. Eddie watches as you pull out an older gray and brown cat and hug it to your chest.

“How are you, Perry?” you ask before planting a kiss right between the cat’s ears. You turn towards Eddie so he can get a better view of the large feline. “This is Perry. He’s the oldest cat here and an absolute sweetheart. I would’ve brought him home with me a long time ago if my sister wasn’t allergic.”

“Hi, Perry,” Eddie says, walking closer to the two of you. He holds his fingers up and Perry gives them a quick sniff. The cat ducks his head and Eddie takes the hint, scratching wherever his hand is guided along the soft fur.

“Wow,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Perry let anyone pet him that quickly. He can be a grumpy old man when he doesn’t know someone.”

“I live with a grumpy old man,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Guess I just know how to deal with them.”

“Do you want to hold him while I clean?” you offer. 

“Sure.”

You hand the cat over and Perry quickly adjusts to being in Eddie’s arms. It’s another thing that surprises you. Perry isn’t usually a fan of being held—unless it’s by you. But the tabby seems quite content in Eddie’s arms. 

Since the last cage is the easiest to clean, you finish up with the cat room in no time.

“What now?” Eddie asks. 

A look down at your watch lets you know.

“Time for the first group of dogs to go outside.” You nod for Eddie to follow you in the direction of the dogs’ section. “We do it in groups since there’s so many of them. This way they can all get some attention and there’s less likely to be any issues or fighting.”

It’s not surprising to you that Eddie is a complete natural with the dogs when you get outside. He’s on the grass with them, rough housing, he plays fetch, and even runs laps around the yard with a few who just need to burn off their extra energy. The dogs all take to him so naturally—even the shy ones. It’s impossible not to smile as you watch the canines play with this golden retriever of a man. 

By the time the two of you bring the last round of dogs back inside, Eddie’s cheeks are rosy from exertion, his breathing is somewhat labored, and he has patches of dirt on him almost from head to toe. 

“Come here,” you say with a chuckle once you’ve snapped the last lock shut. 

There’s a battered door at the other end of the hall, and Eddie follows you over towards it. You jiggle the rusty doorknob and step into the small bathroom. There are a few stacks of towels lined up on the counter and you pull a teal one off the top of a pile. 

The scent of lemons fills the small space as you pump some hand soap onto the towel and wring it out with some water. 

You turn back to Eddie and motion for him to drop his chin. He does, and you push a few strands of curls back to wipe at the dirt on the left cheek and jawline.

“How’d you get this?” you ask with a chuckle.

“No idea,” he replies with a small huff of laughter. “I think it was when Yogi and I both dove for that tennis ball.”

The memory of Eddie and the chocolate lab both going for the toy brings a smile to your face as you clean off what you can of the dirt. 

“He’s a good boy,” you say. 

“What about me?” Eddie asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You laugh and toss the dirty towel in the laundry bin. 

“Yes, Eddie,” you tell him. “You were a good boy, too.”

Even though he’s the one who brought it up, he feels his face get warm.

“So, I’m actually headed out early today,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the sides of your jeans. “But I’m sure Brenda will let you know what you can do next.” It’s hard to keep the playful smirk off your face at the mention of the cantankerous receptionist.

Eddie drops his jaw and stares at you with mock annoyance.

“Playing hooky and leaving me with someone who makes Ms. O’Donnell look like a ray of sunshine? How dare you?”

You chuckle and shake your head.

“I mean, if you want to go get my cavity filled for me, I wouldn’t complain,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie winces, fighting off the urge to run his tongue over his teeth.

“Oof, okay. That’s a good excuse, I guess,” Eddie says. 

“I’m so glad you approve,” you tease. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Sure am.”

Honestly, Eddie has no idea if he’s scheduled to come in tomorrow or not, but he hardly doubts anyone would complain if he showed up for extra volunteering. 

“I’ll see you then.”

You give him one last smile before heading to grab your bag from the back room.

The next day, all the cats and kittens meow at you the moment you step foot into their room. 

“Hello, babies,” you greet them. “How’s my man Perry doin—” Your face falls when you see Perry’s usual crate empty of the senior cat. 

Despite the cries of protest, you back out of the cat room and hastily make your way to Brenda’s desk.

“Where’s Perry?” you ask without preamble.

“Got adopted,” Brenda responds, not looking up from the old issue of People Magazine she’s flipping through. 

“Oh.” You swallow and nod your head. “Good for him.” I didn’t get to say goodbye. 

A few tears fall as you head back to the cats and begin your daily cleaning routine. You are genuinely happy that Perry has found a home. Cats of his age don’t belong in a shelter, they belong with a family. Well, all cats do, but it’s especially harder for seniors. It’s the fact that you didn’t get to give him one more scratch between his ears or kiss the back of his head one last time that is upsetting you. He was so much a part of your daily life that it already feels empty in the shelter without him.

“Hey.”

Eddie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump and hit the back of your head on the roof of Chili and Pepper’s cubby. 

“Ow.” You wince and step back, bringing your hand up to hold the sore spot.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Eddie says, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you—hey, are you okay?” Eddie frowns in concern when he sees the tear tracks running down your cheeks. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you say before wiping off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m fine. Just found out that Perry got adopted and I’m bummed I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

“Oh.” The smile forming on Eddie’s pretty face doesn’t hold the tone of sympathy that you were expecting. He clears his throat and brings his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, um, actually, I’m the one who adopted him.”

Either your ears or brain are having a hard time grasping what Eddie just said, so it takes a few moments before it finally clicks.

“You? You adopted Perry?”

“Yeah.” There’s a prideful grin on Eddie’s face and it makes your heart rate pick up. “After you left yesterday, I went to say goodbye to him, and he kept pawing at me through the bars of the crate. I let him out and he wanted me to hold him. I kinda fell in love with him right then and there.”

Tears flood your eyes once more, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

“Oh, Eddie.” You chuckle and wipe at your misty eyes. “That makes me so happy. Perry deserves a good family, and I couldn’t have picked a better one. Thank you.”

“You can come by whenever you want to see him,” Eddie says, a nervous warble in his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sure, uh, he’d love to see you more.”

A shy smile graces your features as you reply, “I’d like that, too.”

“So, no more tears,” Eddie says, stepping forward and using his thumb to gently erase any remains of your waterworks. 

“No more tears,” you agree, taking a deep breath. 

Before you can let the thought linger and overthink it, you lean forward and wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging his body close to yours. He tentatively wraps his arms around your body before holding you just as tightly as you’re holding him. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and take a step backward.

“So, what do you say?” you ask. “Should we get to work?”

Eddie drops into a bow and makes a grand sweeping gesture towards the cat cubbies. 

“Let’s do it.”

[ncsdlr]

Willing (To Be Manipulated And To Manipulate)

Eva x Reader

Warnings: Dubious Consent & Manipulation

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

You grew up with Eva.

Before the sermons, before the followers with glassy eyes and matching linen dresses, before the voice that dripped like honey and stuck to everything it touched—there was just her. A girl who burned bright in every room. Who spoke like she’d swallowed poetry and made you believe in things you couldn’t name yet.

She was radiant. Even then.

You used to follow her everywhere. Down cracked sidewalks and into abandoned parking lots, flashlight in hand because she said she saw something “magical” in the dark. You believed her every time. You always did.

Eva made you feel like you could be something more. Not prettier. Not louder. Just sharper. Like the way she looked at you made you clearer.

You started writing because she told you that your words mattered. You tried harder in school because she said you were smart. You kept your voice steady, even when you were scared, because Eva never flinched—and you wanted to be like her.

She inspired you.

She shaped you.

And then she ruined herself.

You don’t know exactly when it changed—maybe after that first “gathering,” maybe after she shaved her head and started speaking in metaphors instead of full sentences. But at some point, the girl you loved became someone else entirely. Someone you didn’t recognize.

Someone who knew exactly how to make people fall in love with her, and did it anyway. Over and over. Just to prove she could.

She started calling herself a guide. A vessel. A mirror. She built something from nothing—pulled lonely people into her orbit like it was gravity. And the worst part? She looked good doing it. Barefoot. Angelic. Untouchable.

You stayed away at first. You told yourself you were done.

But something in you cracked when she texted you out of nowhere. “Come see what I’ve built.” Three years of silence, and that’s all it took.

Now you’re here. Living on the edge of her little commune, in a guest room with no locks, surrounded by people who whisper her name like it’s sacred.

You hate her for it.

You hate how easy it was for her to change. You hate how beautiful she still is when she talks to a room like she owns it. You hate that she remembers your favorite wine. You hate that you drink it with her.

You hate her.

God, you hate her.

****

Eva’s in the kitchen when you walk in, barefoot and bathed in golden light like she fucking planned it that way. She’s pouring coffee—slow, precise, theatrical. The steam curls around her like it worships her too.

For a second, you almost forget.

Then she speaks.

“You sleep okay?” she asks, not looking at you, like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.

Like you didn’t grow up next to her heartbeat.

You open the fridge. It’s mostly wine and some sad, untouched fruit. Typical. You close it again with a soft thud.

“I made you a cup,” Eva offers, already holding out the mug she definitely poured for you.

“I’m not drinking your cult brew,” you mutter.

She chuckles. “You think I laced it or something?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Eva finally looks at you. Her eyes are so annoyingly soft it almost stings. “I missed you, you know.”

You ignore the weight of that. The way it slides under your skin.

“Still giving me the silent treatment?” she teases. “That’s dramatic, even for you.”

You shoot her a look. “Dramatic says the woman who made twelve people quit their jobs and live in the woods for ‘spiritual alignment.’”

“They wanted something real.”

“They wanted therapy and maybe a hobby. Not a prophet in silk robes with a god complex.”

Eva smirks, leans against the counter like she owns the whole damn world—and maybe, in her mind, she does. “You’re jealous.”

“Of what?” You fold your arms. “Your aesthetic?”

“My attention,” she says, eyes flicking to yours. “And maybe the way I still get to you.”

Your pulse stutters.

You keep your voice even- just like how she taught you. “Get over yourself.”

“You used to like the way I talked.”

“That was before you turned every sentence into a sermon.”

Eva shrugs, unbothered. “Still hanging on every word, though.”

She moves closer. Two steps. No permission. No hesitation. Now she’s near enough to make your ribs tighten.

“You're impossible,” you say quietly.

She smiles like she knows. “And you’re still here.”

That lands heavier than it should. Your throat tightens, just for a second.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you whisper.

Eva softens. Just slightly. “I’m not. I’m just… surprised you came back.”

You hold her gaze, and for a moment it feels like you’re sixteen again—sneaking out after curfew, laying side-by-side on the roof of her parents' house, trading secrets and daring the stars to fall.

And then you blink. And it’s now. And she’s not yours anymore.

Maybe she never was.

You step back. Put space between you.

“You’re not the person I grew up with.”

Eva’s smile fades into something else—sadness maybe, or understanding. Or just a really good performance.

“I could say the same about you,” she says softly.

You walk out before you let it sink in.

****

You try to stay away from her that night.

You tell yourself you’ll stay in your room, read something pointless, maybe pretend to journal even though your pen’s been dry for weeks. You hear the soft laughter of her followers outside by the firepit, the clink of bottles, the low hum of someone playing guitar like you’re all in a damn indie film.

But it’s the way the house feels that gets to you. Empty. Hollow in places. Like Eva took all the air with her when she left the room.

So you drift out to the living room eventually. Not to talk. Not to join. Just to sit on the edge of the couch with your legs pulled up and your arms crossed like armor.

You don’t even notice her watching you until she sits down.

Not next to you. Not right away.

But closer than she was before.

You sip slowly from your glass, eyes on the flickering candle in the center of the table. It smells like sage and eucalyptus. She probably made one of her followers hand-pour it.

“You always drink like it’s a punishment,” Eva says, voice soft and amused.

“I’m drinking because it’s the only way to survive your bullshit.”

She laughs gently, like that didn’t sting. “Still got that bite.”

“You still got that god complex?”

“Only when I’m around you.”

That earns her a look.

She’s already moved closer. Just enough that you can feel the heat of her thigh near yours. Not touching, but near enough that it makes you acutely aware of the space between you. And how fast it’s shrinking.

You down half your glass in one go.

“Slow down,” she murmurs, brushing a fingertip along the rim of her own. “No one’s chasing you.”

You glance at her. “You say that like you’re not the one doing the chasing.”

She tilts her head. “You think I’m chasing you?”

“I think you’re always chasing whoever gives you the best mirror.”

Her eyes flicker, just for a second. You hit a nerve.

But then she smiles, slow and deliberate. “You always did know how to read me. That’s what I missed most.”

“You didn’t miss me,” you say. “You missed how easy I used to be to control.”

That’s when she gets bold—shifts a little closer. Her leg brushes yours, and she doesn’t move it. Her voice drops, syrupy and low.

“I don’t need to control you,” Eva says. “You always came willingly.”

The heat that flushes your chest has nothing to do with the wine.

“You’re disgusting,” you mutter, looking away.

“And yet… here you are.”

You laugh bitterly. “Here I am. Wasting wine and oxygen.”

“Sharing space,” she corrects, smiling like she’s won something. “You could’ve stayed away. Could’ve gone home. Blocked my number. Burned your little yearbooks.”

You don’t respond.

She pours you more wine.

You let her with a flaming glare.

You’re not sure when the conversation fades.

Somewhere between the third glass and the fourth, the words start to feel too careful. Like she’s guiding them, steering the night like a slow river, pretending to drift while secretly pulling you toward the rocks.

She’s always been good at that.

Eva lounges beside you, glass loose in hand, eyes soft and calculating. She watches you like she already knows what you’ll do next. Like she’s already counted your moves.

“You always looked better like this,” she says gently. “Unwound. A little flushed.”

You glare, but your body betrays you—cheeks warm, breath just slightly uneven.

“I think it’s the wine,” she adds, tilting her head. “Or maybe it’s me.”

“You really can’t go five minutes without making it about you, can you?”

Eva smiles like she’s proud of the observation. “I only talk about what’s in front of me. And right now? You’re glowing.”

You roll your eyes, but your legs have stopped tensing. Your shoulders have dropped. Just a little. You don’t realize it yet.

She leans back, swirling her drink lazily. “I missed this. You, getting all riled up. Always so sure you were above me, but still sitting at my table.”

“I’m not sitting at your table,” you mutter.

“You’re here.” Her voice goes quiet. “You didn’t have to be.”

You say nothing. You know she wants you to fill the silence.

“You could’ve left a hundred times,” she continues. “But you didn’t. You stayed. You stayed with me. Why?”

You clench your jaw. “I wanted to see for myself what you’d turned into.”

Her smile softens. “You wanted to make sure I wasn’t lost.”

Your breath hitches.

“You wanted me to still be her.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“You lie to yourself more than you ever lied to me,” Eva says, and it doesn’t sound cruel—it sounds like a prayer. “That’s why I never hated you. You wanted goodness so bad it made you blind.”

“I wanted you to be good,” you whisper. “And you turned into this.”

“And yet you still drink with me,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers along the stem of her glass. “You still sit close. You still look at me like you did when we were seventeen.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

Her voice drops. Low, coaxing. “Do you remember that summer? The one where we snuck out every night? You brought a blanket. I brought that old CD player.”

You blink. You do remember. You hate that you do.

“You said the stars made you feel small. I said that meant you were lucky—because I’d never felt small a day in my life.”

She leans in just a little, her hand resting beside yours on the couch.

“I think that’s when you started loving me.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Eva—”

“Shh,” she whispers. “You don’t have to say it.”

She’s too close. Her skin warm. Her breath impossibly steady. Her eyes locked on yours like a dare, like a promise, like a trap.

“You always liked it when I got close,” she says. “Didn’t matter what I said.”

You want to push her away. You want to pull her in.

You hate that you’re still here. You hate that she knows it.

“Eva…”

“Shh,” she murmurs again, and her fingers brush your cheek. “Don’t overthink it.”

And before you can—before your shame catches up to your pulse— She kisses you.

****

The kiss deepens before you can stop it—before your brain catches up to your body. Her lips move like she’s been waiting for this, like she’s trained for this. You hate how easily your mouth parts for her, how natural it feels to fall back into something you promised yourself you’d never touch again.

Her hand slides over your thigh, and somewhere in the haze you realize: you’re in her room. You didn’t mean to end up here. But you’re here.

Everything smells like her—jasmine, wine, something sweet and burning in the incense dish by the window. The lighting’s low and warm, amber from the salt lamp on the nightstand. The sheets are soft. Of course they are.

This whole room is a trap.

“Let me fix it,” she whispers against your skin. “I’ve been too distant with you.”

You’re still catching your breath when she pulls back just enough to look at you—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, voice syrupy soft.

“Take this,” she says gently. “As an opportunity to take what you lost.”

And because the room is warm, and your chest aches, and the way she’s looking at you feels like a dare—you give in.

You move first.

You touch her like you’re owed something. Like reclaiming her body might heal what she stole. You kiss her throat, trail your fingers lower, drown her in pleasure until her back arches and her breath comes in choked sobs against the headboard.

The sheets twist under your knees. She clutches the pillows like she’s breaking.

You think you’re winning.

But the whole time, she watches you. Quiet. Sharp. Like a queen surveying her most loyal follower.

You don’t notice.

You just think—this is it. This is mine again.

"I've already made you cum so much, Eva...think you can still take this?" You grin as you speak because you think you're the one in control- that's how it feels.

Eva's wet velvet walls flutter around you as you curl your fingers just perfectly. The slow yet deep thrusts of your fingers are what takes Eva right over as you coax another orgasm out of her, her mind unsure of whether or not she can take more of this. She really underestimated how good at this you could be.

"F—fucking hell, Y/N! You're really—ah... you're really taking me, huh?"

The small, smug grin on Eva's lips makes you tick. It makes your finger curl inside her harder. Reach deeper. And it makes Eva cum one more time with a violent moan, one of her hands reaching for your forearm and holding onto it as if it would help her in anyway.

But it doesn't.

If anything, it only makes you fuck her more- claim her more. And with a suddenly quick pistoning of your fingers in and out of Eva's cunt, her orgasm gushes out of her, jetting around you finger and soaking everything within range.

The look of utter exhaustion on Eva's face makes you stop just to give her a minute to breathe, at least. You pull your fingers from her depths and cup her cunt gently. Almost as if you're afraid she'll blow away in the wind. Like now you want to cradle her after all you've taken back from her.

But like you didn't just give her transforming orgasms back to back, she flips you over. Like you've always belonged beneath her. Like she's been waiting to have you under her since forever.

The flip makes your breath catch, and the air feels a little too thick. You notice how soft the sheets feel now. Like you're more open and more vulnerable now than ever before.

And then it begins.

Eva's hands move like they remember you better than you remember yourself. Her mouth finds all the places you thought you buried. Her fingers slip inside like they belong there.

"Holy fuck." You moan into the air, the feeling of Eva's fingers deep inside you, feeling like a soothing balm.

You come too fast. Then again, "Shit, Eva!" Then again, gasping into her neck like you’ve forgotten who you are, "Oh, my god."

It’s effortless for her.

And that’s the worst part.

By the time your body stills and your chest stops shaking, you’re half-draped across her lap, legs limp, heart pounding in your throat. You can still hear your own voice echoing in the room. You hate how loud you got. You hate how smug she looks, all calm and golden in the afterglow.

She kisses your temple like she didn't just ruin you.

“See?” she murmurs. “You didn’t lose anything.”

But this bed doesn’t feel like sanctuary. It feels like a throne. And you—you’re not lying next to her.

You’re laid out in offering.

****

You wake up sore, warm, and furious.

The sun is barely up. Pale light spills across the room, lighting the sheets in gold, and you’re still in her bed, tangled in her sheets, still tasting the night before on your tongue like a crime you meant to commit.

She’s not beside you.

Of course she’s not.

You sit up, hair a mess, throat dry, heart hammering. The room smells like sex and incense and smug satisfaction. You find your clothes scattered near the foot of the bed—your shirt inside out, your underwear nearly under the nightstand.

You dress quickly, almost violently. Like every second you spend here makes it worse.

By the time you make it to the kitchen, Eva’s already there.

Barefoot again. Mug in hand. Wearing one of those thin white shirts that might as well be transparent. She doesn’t even flinch when she sees you.

“Morning,” she says casually, like she didn’t have you begging under her last night.

You don’t answer. You go straight for the sink and splash water on your face like it’ll burn the memory off your skin.

“I made coffee,” she offers.

You look at her. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

You blink at her like she’s insane. “Don’t ‘what’ me. You don’t get to act like nothing happened.”

Eva shrugs, completely unfazed. “I’m not acting like anything.”

“You’re humming.”

She sips from her mug, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re grumpy in the mornings. I forgot how cute that was.”

You stare at her, jaw tight. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

She sits on the counter like it’s hers—legs dangling, eyes glinting. You hate how calm she is. How put-together. How she looks like last night only confirmed something she already knew.

“You’re not going to ask if I regret it?” you say bitterly.

Eva raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

You pause.

And that pause—that one second too long—gives her all the confirmation she needs.

Her smile widens just slightly.

You glare at her, throat tight. “Don’t think this means anything.”

“I don’t.”

She sips her coffee again. “You do.”

Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter. You want to scream. You want to grab her and kiss her again. You want to leave.

Instead you mutter, “It was a mistake.”

Eva hums. “Maybe. But you make mistakes beautifully.”

Your heart skips.

She hops down from the counter, brushes past you on the way to the sink, and whispers as she passes:

“You looked so good falling apart.”

You don’t speak. You don’t move.

You just stand there. Burning. Remembering. Wanting.

And hating that you still do.

You stare at the back of her head as she hums and washes her mug, like last night wasn’t carved into both your bodies. You wonder if she’ll ever bring it up again. You hope she doesn’t. Because if she does—you’re not sure you’d be strong enough to lie.

[artemiseamoon]

I’m glad to see more discussion about the experience as a non-white person in the PP fandom. I have been in many ‘fan groups’ in my life, 80s baby here, and this one has surprisingly been the most unwelcoming and triggering in many ways (💜minus the ✨amazing✨ readers, mutuals, and friends I have made here. This part is the good stuff.) 💜

I’m glad to see more discussion about how we get overlooked and our work, art, and moodboards get ignored.

I’ve been yelling into the void about this since 2020, many others as well, and many for much longer than me. We get ignored, overlooked, nasty anons, the list goes on…

In my time sharing here, I have tried to make things as diverse and inclusive as possible while highlighting black and brown folks. But I tell you, my readership suffered, my moodboards (which I put my heart and soul into) were only shared sometimes, if so it was by a few lovely mutuals and amazing readers who supported me.

My engagement has always been a struggle. I could actively see my moodboards and fics with brown skin characters get 0-10 likes and no reblogs while ones with petite pintrest ⚪️ women get 100+. This happened often, minus cool surprises like when something would be shared by a bigger blog and then i’d see more engagement for a burst of time. Only in these cases I would have the most reach and see that reflected in things like reblogs and likes. Anyway…

This has been a discussion for a long time. I got so tired I stopped talking about it. I stopped posting about it. It seemed my voice, and many others didn’t matter. I took many breaks, left and came back, only to find things worse and the little community I had mostly gone. I stepped away from here and the PP fandom.

I was and am greatly disappointed that there is such a lack of support and blatant (plus passive aggressive) racism in this fandom for a poc!

Recently, to see the confederate flag used as an aesthetic choice in a fic (by a writer I did enjoy and follow) was a blow. Especially even more now as a queer woman with brown skin living in a country that voted a racist criminal into office, again.

Fan-fiction should be a safe place to escape. Why would we want to see our very valid fears and hostile signs like that flag in fics we read?

On that note, it is crazy to me we have to experience this at all, but especially in a fandom for a poc man!!

Again, I am happy these conversations are happening. Will things change? I dunno - I feel doubtful. I am pissed. But I do hope there will be change.

Ps: just because a character is from the south, and has an accent, DOES NOT mean you have to make them racist. As a woman with Louisiana Creole roots via my dad, and Southern (GA, NC, VA) both via my mom and dad (I grew up in the North so no accent and all for me) BUT I do write alot of Southern Gothic and fic settings in places like Louisiana. Would I add that fucking flag even tho it’s around? No.

Don’t do shit like that. Do better.

Pss: this is bigger than me, I am not just talking about my self. My work is not for everyone, some will dislike it, thats totally ok, i have weaknesses as well as strengths as a writer, thats ok - i am talking about this on a grander collective scale of things. We already lost so many creative talented poc and queer writers and I myself have been distant from the fandom as well. Don’t be surprised if more continue to leave if this shit keeps up.

[cosmickid-inmotion]

From Each According to Their Ability

Jackson!Joel x gn!reader

Masterlists being updating under the new renovation. I went from romanarose to cosmickid-inmotion!!! I have to fix everything up before I add masterlists etc

Summary: You're fully deaf, and you're begining to feel frustrated with not being seen as a productive human with your own capabilities.

Warnings: Covert ablism. Nothing extreme but just to be fair. Reader lost their hearing in a explosion. Mention of meth. That's it i think, lmk if I missed anything!

Disability Visability event OPEN THROUGH THE END OF MAY!

A note on disability and employment after the fic.

Based on an ask I got by @goodbyetothenight! Back in October I said i was done writing Joel due to constant abuse from the fandom. However, in the spirit of an inclusive enviorment for people of all kinds I decided to write this piece. I took a intro to disability class where one of my big projects was on disability and employment, and i have a good friend who used to do dead/HOH advocacy so I feel pretty comfortable with this subject. As many of you know, for a long time i suffered hearing loss due to what i know know was a mass in my ear. I got it removed and hear much better now, but it was bad enough it caused problems for me. Still, if I said anything offensive please let me know!!

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

1.7k words

(I changed it to gn reader so if theres accidentally anything indicating gender other than the 50s housewife joke which i think works either way, lmk!!)

To each according to their need, from each according to their ability.

That was the communist manifesto, wasn’t it? Honestly you don't remember anymore, college was so long ago, and you’d have enough brain trauma. Of course your memory wasn’t what it once was. 

What you did remember was Maria saying, “Everyone has their place”

The accident was how they’d found you; how Joel had found you, actually. No, you weren’t making meth in Wyoming after the world had gone to shit, but you might have been known to… do some trade running is all. Imagine your surprise when you came to a supplier, were having a chat, when his entire lab blew up… and all the explosives he’d stored in the next room. 

You laid there in the rubble, making peace with your ending when and angel appeared in flannel.

You didn’t hear a word he’d said, the ringing in your ears far too loud, but after he’d taken the parts of the house that’d fallen on you and shortly before passing out, you were certain you could read his lips.

I got you.

You had lost all your hearing. This made you hesitant to join the community Joel had brought you too, but what choice did you have now? Maria, in conversing through writing, had assured you that there would be work for you and you’d be provided for in return.

“Not everyone does patrol.”

But you couldn’t do a whole lot you used to do either. Anything that involved needing to be very aware of surroundings was a no. No construction, for obvious reasons. None of the farm work: if there was a clicker or a siren went off, what if you were too far out and no one got you? No teaching, the kids, no large animals, not even cooking because you couldn’t hear when someone said ‘behind!’ or ‘sharp knife!’ or ‘oven open!’

Yeah, you did work. You did a lot of sewing, mostly. Sometimes you could watch the young children in the nursery, just not alone. You did what you could but sometimes you felt useless. It’d been a year now, and you struggled to feel yourself all the time. The world kinda being over meant not much for options like hearing aids, but your deafness was so profound you weren’t sure anything could have fixed it.

Sign language wasn’t happening. You’d learned some things because some people in Jackson knew a little but there was no one really an expert. Besides, at this point it was hard to learn something new. You counted your blessings. You could read lips pretty well, and you could talk, so most communication face to face was fine… unless people were weird.

Maria and her husband, Tommy, were nice and acted normal. They invited you over quite a bit and always spoke clearly, so you could read. Not that thing a lot of people did where they spoke slowly or over-enunciated. That didn’t help anything. The over enunciating was almost worse than the mumbling, but often the mumbling was mixed with people who wouldn’t even look at you.

Ellie was awkward sometimes but honestly, that was just Ellie. Jesse spoke like a boy scout and was overly formal, but you were pretty sure he was just like that too. He enunciated.

But then there was Joel. Your Joel, as he came to be over the months you’d been here in Jackson. Joel took such care to speak clearly, but also let his personality shine, that smile you loved to see. The teeth so close to perfect, you’d known before you ever explored his mouth he had to have a wire retainer on the back of his teeth. The night it all exploded and he closed the gap between you, you’d slipped your tongue behind the bone and felt the wiring yourself. 

It wasn’t long before you’d moved into Joel’s house, opting to free up a new house for the people kept fleeing to Jackson and finding comfort in the safety of him. You weren’t scared of existing in a house, no, not at all. But there were times you worried you wouldn’t hear a siren or a warning call. Now, even though you would be home alone for hours you knew that there were people that would come for you. Joel would know where you were. Joel would find you.

He always made sure to come from the side or the front where you could see him. Since you couldn’t hear when he came home, sometimes he caught you off guard, but after a few jumpscares living together Joel learned how to enter your vision without giving you damn near a heart attack. Ellie hadn’t quite learned the skill, but she was trying.

Joel’s deep green flannel peaked the corner of your eye as you sewed, and when you looked up, he came into vision. When you can clearly see his face, Joel grins at you. Maria said she’s never seen Joel this happy.

“Hey darl’n,” Joel always tried to stifle the accent to make things easier to lip-read, but it came out in certain words. “How was the day?”

You put down the sewing in a huff, pouting up at him. “I’m tired of this. I want to be useful.”

Concern seeped into his aging face, those two deep lines between his brows coming out to say hello. “What do you mean?” Joel came to sit on the couch with you, and you two turned to face each other.

“I mean, I’m useless, Joel. It’s frustrating! I used to be feared, did you know that? No Tony Soprano or anything, but my god people knew my name some places. I was taken seriously. And now?” You hold up what you were working on. “I’m fixing Eugene’s jeans. His You-jeans, if you will.”

Joel was clearly trying to stifle his smile at your joke, unsure of what tone you needed. “Baby,” He gets out through a laugh. “I promise, you’re valued here. Everyone has a role to play.”

“And mine is nothing better than a 50’s housewife. And I don’t even get to be high and balls on valium while I do it.”

Joel sighed, thinking. “If I could get you valium, I would.”

“I know.”

“Used to be able to. I ever tell you I ran drugs?”

Your ears perk up at that. “Before?”

His eyes go wide. “No, no not… not while I had Sarah. That was Tommy’s scene, if I’m being honest. I mean in Boston. I was a big tough guy, running underground trades. Anyone that crossed me got fucked up. People feared me too.”

It was hard to imagine your sweet old man a fear drug runner… but everyone had a second life before Jackson. “I didn’t know that.”

“Used to be a fist of fury. Now it’s just a hand.” he spread his fingers and grinned. Joel was happy in his new life, you understood. He liked this domesticity.

You give him a smile, but you don’t feel better. “It’s not the same, Joel. You get to use your skills. I’m not even that good at sewing!”

Something in Joel’s expression shifted, he could pick up that this was actually bothering you, not just a mild inconvenience.

You continued, softer. “I wouldn’t have an issue if all I was good for is sewing. I understand everyone has their place, everyone is important. But I feel like I’m not being used to my fullest. I’m not a child just because I’m disabled.”

He looked you, those two lines thick with thought before he sighed again. “When I… when I lost some of my hearing, it was confusing. I mean, it was a confusing time in general but navigating everything while dealing with the fact I was never going to hear the same wasn’t easy. I thought, how can I protect Tommy like this? Sarah was dead, all I had left was Tommy. I thought okay, you only have one fucking job left and it’s keeping him safe. It was like we were teenagers again.” That flicker of sadness across his face, the look of a man who was nearing 60 but still shivered at the thought of his father. He shakes the thoughts away. “I had to figure it out, but I would be damned if I let Tommy help me. I hated that shit; I still do.”

You nod a little. “I get that.”

“I know, and darl’n,” His eyes flittered away, and his lips didn’t move enough. “I feel protective of you-”

“What’s that? You’re mumbling.”

Joel snaps back to look at you, eyes apologetic. “Shit, Sorry,” He was clear now. “I just mean, i feel protective of you, but maybe instead of protecting, I should be advocating.”

Your heart clenches, feeling nothing but love for you sweet, still-fresh boyfriend. “I love that you like protecting me. I love when you got your arm wrapped around me when we talk in the tipsy bison… We met because you were protective, even of a complete stranger.” You give Joel a peck on the lips. “But could we talk to Maria about figuring something else out? I can work with my hands Joel, I can be productive for more than Sewing. AND I’LL SEW!” You raise your hands in defense, and Joel chuckles. “I’ll sew too, don’t get me wrong, just… please. I need more.”

He nods. “Yeah baby. I know we can figure something out.”

And you trusted him.

Later that day, you and Joel sat down with Tommy and Maria and explained how you felt. Maria emphasized safety, including yours. You knew she meant well, but I felt frustrated. Joel stepped in. 

It wasn’t long before you joined the construction crew. Not on the field, not climbing around where constant spatial awareness and knowing where everyone was was necessary, no. But a corner of the shop was set up just for you, a space people could only enter with express verbal permission from you, a space you could work with your hands and saw and cut and nail and wire. 

And yeah, sometimes you still sewed, but you don't mind it as much now. Not when you finally felt fulfilled.

Disability and employement.

For a long time, disabled people were often given menial labour jobs, like putting caps on pens, for pennies. Many people thought all disabled people could do was barely contribute to society. This seems to be RFK's thought process to.

LET ME BE CLEAR. You do not need to work to be valuable. Some poeple can't work, and they contribute in other ways. Some people simple cannot work. Everyones life is important and disabled people deserved dignity no matter what. You don't need to be paying taxes to be worth something. Human value is innate.

BUT, just because one is disabled does not mean they cannot work. Many, like myself, WANT to work, meaningful work we feel proud in. I'm lucky to have a job that works well with my disabilities. In this story, we briefly explore the reasonable accommodation. In the past, my emplyers have not had to give an accomidation but I've had costumers be extremely rude with my hearing loss.

Maria is not mean to be the bad guy here. She cares for reader, wants reader to be happy and safe and keep those around them safe, but she wasn't thinking outside the box. Joel gave reader the chance to speak, then helped advocate for them like a good partner.

I want to leave you with this fact I learned from my disability and employment project.

Did you know? Disabled people hired very rarely need much accomidation, and the accomidation is usually pretty cheap if anything. In return, disabled people have much lower turnover rates, which saves the company money. This is a purely capitalist arguement, but unfortunetly we live in a capitalist society. Next time someone wants to say something negative about the ADA or requiring accomidations at work, remember that disabled people are very valuable in a job.

Thanks guys!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @copperhalfcent @miraclesabound @quiet-night-sky-writers-blog @missdictatorme

ill get a proper tag list going i swear sorry if yall arent interested

[dispatchvampire]

Nailed It

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: super duper fluffy, some pining, some misunderstanding

Summary: Reader takes Bucky with her to the nail salon and ends up with a whole lot more than a polish change.

WC: 2240

A/N: No use of y/n, reader isn't described, and this is a shameless 'we have always lived in the tower' fic. Basically, CW never happened, Tony, Steve, and Bucky got their poop in a group like adults, and it's always chill on the communal floor.

Italicized conversation is in Vietnamese, plus a couple other phrases written out.

Special note: many thanks to @noellez-best-life23 and her hubs for the beta and the assistance. They rock.

Divider by @enchanthings

“Where ya headed?” Bucky asked, his voice carrying over from the couch in the common area while you made your way into the kitchen. The only parts of him you could truly see were the beat up old boots hanging over the arm of the sectional at one end and the curtain of his hair draped across the other end

“Hell if I don’t change my ways,” you replied as you filled your emotional support thermos with ice and fresh water. His little giggle in reply made you smile. “Headed out to get the claws sharpened.” 

This was greeted with the cutest gopher impression you’d ever seen, with only the top of his head popping up over the back of the couch to reveal his gorgeous eyes narrowed in confusion. “That’s a thing you need?” he asked as he sat up further and brushed his dark bangs out of his face. 

“I’m going to get my nails done,” you clarified with a smile, showing off your purple, glittery tips in desperate need of some professional attention. “Wanna come with?” 

Now, a part of you asked as a joke, because that wasn’t really his scene. It wasn’t like Lotus Nails in Little Saigon was a huge tourist attraction. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to spend time with him. 

In the protective confines of the tower, you were mission support and comms, not a superhero in any way but tech, and yet, you and Bucky had hit it off immediately, bonding over sci-fi and fantasy books and movies. He was frighteningly smart, with a sarcastic sense of humor and a sassy beautiful mouth. He made the cloistered, serious life of being a member of the Avengers Support crew fun. 

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed he was pretty. Like intimidatingly so, even without the metal arm. You had eyes, and had had a healthy crush on him going back to eighth grade American History class, but in person… You’d like to say it was no problem at all overlooking that ridiculously sharp jawline and those massive shoulders, and that mouth… whew. 

But more than just a gorgeous everything, Bucky Barnes was a sweetheart. If ever a man ignited your desire to cuddle them, it was him. Something about him made you squishy and soft, and while normally you’d squash that instinct immediately, with him you were hesitant to follow through on that. 

In the first place, you had no idea how he felt about you. Up to this point, you’d been wallowing in your one-sided crush on a man who was likely emotionally unavailable in that sense. Not that you blamed him. After all he’d been through, he needed to do what he needed to do for him and you would never begrudge him that. 

In the second place, there was the not so little matter of you. You weren’t armed with potentially lethal sexiness like Natasha, or waif-like and twee like Wanda. You didn’t have illusions, not once in the history of ever had you been anyone’s first choice. Not that that really mattered anymore. Thanks to therapy and working on yourself, you were strong in your own sense of self and mostly unbothered by how other people perceived you or responded to you. 

It’s still unclear to you how a question tossed out so flippantly resulted in you standing in a crowded subway car to the Village with the Winter Soldier pressed in behind you like the most menacing and unreasonably hot shadow possible, but you had to admit, his henley, boots, and jeans combo coupled with his long hair, bright eyes, and stubble, was a thirst trap in every practical sense. 

So much for the relaxing afternoon you’d had planned. Now you’d be spending it focusing on keeping your libido from taking over your tongue and releasing your mortifyingly acute crush on such an unsuspecting victim. 

You two had made some smalltalk on the way to the salon, the brisk afternoon breeze refreshing after the stuffy train ride. 

You’d told him about needing to change from your winter to your summer color palette on your tips and toes, and he’d nodded along dutifully, glancing at your sandaled feet. The squinting  look of confusion and vague consternation never really left his face. 

He held the door as you entered the building, likely a reflex but you thanked him all the same. If you blushed a little, you could chalk it up to the sun exposure. 

“Chào các bạn,” you greeted the ladies as you walked into the salon. You’d been coming here for years, longer than you’d been with the Avengers even, so this place was a regular haunt for you. Because of the time of day, the place was mostly empty except for the staff, all of whom were sweet and very curious about your tagalong. 

“You speak Vietnamese?” Bucky questioned over the chattering as he watched you interact with your friends. 

“Sure,” you replied with a shrug and a smile. “Learned it for just this reason, actually. I like talking to folks and meeting new people.” He nodded, but it was hard to tell if he was still confused or slightly impressed. Then a stroke of genius struck you fast and hard. “Have you ever had a pedicure?” 

The wide blue eyes and quick wash of pallor as the blood left his face before coalescing in his cheeks made you laugh openly. “N-no?” 

The slight stutter of terror didn’t miss you at all. “You want one?” His response of blinking and not much else. “It doesn’t hurt.” 

“But-but, my toes.” It was hard to parse out the source of his exact concern, but he sounded like a little kid being asked to give up his beloved blanky for a quick stint in the laundry. His furrowed brow and hint of a pout made you want to kiss him all over his face and hold him while you reassured him. Admirably, you kept your hands and lips to yourself.

“Will have the time of their life, trust me.” You hoped your smile was reassuring, ”C’mon, it’ll be fun. Certainly more fun than just sitting in the lobby waiting for me to get done. Plus, it’ll be on me. I think you’ll like it.” 

His skeptical look followed him over his shoulder as he was led across the room to the pedi chairs and you were taken over to a table to begin your regular ritual. 

“Cut down?” your nail tech asked as she removed your electric purple gel polish a finger at a time. 

“Please,” you confirmed, though your attention was firmly across the room as Bucky was directed to take off his boots and roll up his pant legs to the knees. They were, unsurprisingly, just as sexy as the rest of him. He looked thoroughly flummoxed and out of his depth, but played along gamely. 

“He’s cute,” she observed in Vietnamese as she carried on flawlessly with her task. All the other techs in the room chimed in with agreements and additional praises for everything from his ‘pretty eyes’ to ‘big, sexy body’. If he only knew how in depth these ladies appreciated his form, he’d probably pass out from embarrassment. 

“Very,” you agreed with a smile, heat suffusing your cheeks totally unbidden. You feared that if he looked over right then, he’d know immediately that you were talking about him, but alas, nothing to be done. 

“Is he your boyfriend?” 

Your snorted giggle was wholly unintentional. “Don’t I wish. He’s not, unfortunately, but I totally would take him if he asked.” 

That answer perked up your tech considerably. “Ooh, that’s too bad. Does that mean he’s single?” 

You shook your head, doing your best not to grimace. “No.” It was hard not to sound petulant, but it was true. “I think he’s seeing someone.” At least, if the amount of Sharon Carter sightings you’d had in his vicinity were anything to go by. That woman was doing her best to hang off him like a poorly fitted suit. 

“Lucky them, I guess.”

“You have no idea.” You shook your head with a sad smile. “The things I would do to have him look at me… see me like that? I’d be an absolute menace. But alas.” You sighed wistfully and shrugged, admiring your fresh overlays as they cured. 

“Pity.” She patted your hand in sympathy before hauling out a massive set of polish color swatches. “Still, it’s good to have a friend, yes?”

“It is.” You nodded as you flipped through the selection to the glitter contingent. “This one please.” You handed her back the swatch for her to pull your color, when something caught your eye. 

It was blue. Bright, metallic blue with turquoise flakes that shimmered like the sun on the open seas. You looked at it and smiled, immediately thinking of the man across the room. “Actually, I have an idea.”

Bucky was still in the pedi chair by the time your hands were done, so you bopped on over to sit at an adjacent work station. His demeanor was lightyears away from the fearful one he’d had coming in, kicked back with eyes closed in utter bliss, his legs wrapped in hot towels and receiving a hot stone massage. “You good, Barnes?”

“Best I’ve been in a while, actually,” he confirmed without opening his eyes, a lazy grin unfurling across his lips. “I feel like you’ve been holding out on me. This is absolute heaven.” 

You took a moment to make eye contact with the tech working on him and handed off the bottle of polish you’d brought over with you. Her startled expression when she’d uncapped the shiny goodness made it difficult to stifle your laughter, but in the end, she just shrugged and nodded. 

“I’m glad you think so. What are you thinking about doing after this?” 

He shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it, really. Not in the mood to return to the Tower?”

“Not especially.” You watched as the tech applied the bright blue polish with deft, practiced strokes and hit the nails with the UV lights to cure the polish quickly. “You got something in mind?”

“There’s a great Italian place not too far from here on Broome, just off of Mulberry. You wanna go?”

“James Barnes, are you asking me on a date?” your intention to keep your tone teasing and low stakes was entirely undone by your sudden breathlessness. In a bazillion years, this is not how you would have seen your afternoon going. 

“I might be.” Eyes that shimmered like moondust met yours, a tender, playful grin spread across his lips which did nothing at all to improve your breathing situation. “You interested?”

“You better say yes!” Nancy, the manager hollered across the salon from the front desk. 

“If you don’t, I definitely will!” your traitorous nail tech supplied. The rest of the girls in the place all chimed in with various levels of encouragement and teasing. 

“Give me a second to breathe, dang!” You couldn’t stop laughing, both from the giddyness in your chest and the exuberant chaos erupting in the salon. “I’m working on it.”

“Whaddya say, cutie?” 

Your face felt like it was on fire as much from the sudden nickname as it was from the whole room quieting down to await your answer. It was unnerving being so put on the spot, and yet, not enough to change your mind. “I like Italian,” you replied softly. 

“Alright then.” 

Bucky smiling was a rarity that you cherished. The way he beamed in that moment though, was a fricking revelation. It was a good thing you were already sitting down, because that would have absolutely taken out your knees otherwise. 

Once his nail tech turned him loose, he leaned down to put his socks back on, pausing with a puzzled look on his face before carrying on with his task. You’d expected him to freak out or at least have some questions, so his silence on the matter of his newly adorned toes was a bit disconcerting. You weren’t going to bring it up unless he did, though. 

You pulled your wallet out as you went up to the front to settle your bill. It was a bit pricier than you’d anticipated, but seeing the smile on Bucky’s face and spring in his step was more than worth the extra cost. 

“Cảm ơn bạn vì tất cả mọi thứ,” Bucky told Nancy as you signed off on the credit card slip, and you almost tossed the pen. 

“I’m sorry, what?” The blood drained from your head at a speed so fast it left you dizzy. You had absolutely no control of the way your jaw practically unhinged as it dropped open in shock.

Instead of answering you, he turned to address the rest of the room who were watching with undisguised curiosity. “I appreciate everything you did this afternoon. You are all too sweet.” Turning back to you like he hadn’t just set off the verbal equivalent of an incendiary device, he offered you his arm. “You ready, sweetheart?”

Shutting your mouth with an audible click, you nod mutely. In fact, you don’t manage to speak until you’re at least half a block down the street. “You never told me you speak Vietnamese.” 

The smug smirk and equally sexy wink about ended you on the spot. “You never asked.”

[thesharktanksdriver]

The witch boy and magical girl (platonic)

Sorry the ending is a bit rushed, I have a wake This weekend and a funeral plus exam on Monday

I still wanted to get this out tho so enjoy!

Magical girl y/n masterlist

Bruce could deal with a lot more than the average person could ever imagine

He’s dealt with a literal killer manic clown

Aliens

Vampires

56 assassins attacking him at once

Literal end of the world events once a year at least

But he doesn’t think anything compares to what he finds himself peering in on now

When he adopted a daughter who fights shadow creatures that feed off of negative human emotions and want to literally eat the universe he knew he was gonna see some weird shit

The weird cosmic ferret, he’d mentally dealt with that already

Same with the Magical weapons that transform and how his new daughter could change her appearance at will

That he could all deal with

But watching his daughter paint her nails with Klarion the witch boy, lord of chaos while they talked about sailor moon wasn’t something he thought he’d have to grapple with

So instead he closes the door and ponders his life and how it got to this point

How you somehow befriended the witch boy started as all good things do

Accidentally finding a someone being tormented by Shadowmites that you have to then kill

But oddly enough instead of the usual human it was…a cat?

An orange cat with distinct blood red eyes and striped black rigged markings

It hissed and scratched at the Shadowmites but was unable to harm them much to its confusion

Until you whacked its assailants with a hammer making them dissipate into nothing

It stared at you and you stared at the cat

And it just kinda tagged along with you for the rest of your patrol

To be fair…having a ultra intelligent possibly eldritch creature in the disguise of a regular animal wasn’t really a “new” thing to you

So when the cat began to follow you it didn’t really bother you much

If anything it was kinda funny especially since Rigel seemed to have an almost silent companionship with the feline

Staring down at the ginger cat from his perch on your shoulders as you continued your nightly patrol

Chittering and barking as the cat meowed back occasionally

If at this point you questioned anything in life anymore you’d be curious as to how their seemingly communicating but now you couldn’t really care

You were just happy the seemingly demon cat got along with your ex-deity ferret

Along with the fact that this seemingly aggressive cat who tried to scratch the eyes out of anyone who got too close for its liking seemed to enjoy your presence

Even at one point during your food break curling up in your lap wanting to be lavished in attention

The violent cat being reduced to a softly purring mass of fluffy orange hair

Black leather collar and red gemstone attached to it

This was definitely some bougie cat, almost definitely a supernatural one as well considering it saw Shadowmites

But the collar definitely implied an owner

A rich one at that too

So you post online with a picture of yourself and the cat asking for its owner

Mostly since the collar had some type of ancient language not spoken by you in a hieroglyphic type of alphabet

Cool as hell

But impractical to you as you tried to Google translate it

He’ll you’d even sent a picture to dick and all you got back was garbled nonsense that looked like he slammed his face against a keyboard

Which was probable since he was on yet another coffee bender where he stayed up for too long

Alfred would definitely not be pleased

But back on topic of the eldritch Garfield cat, eventually you got a response

But not via online

More like in person since a figure then materialized in front of you via scarlet fire

And there floating in all his glory was lord of chaos Klarion the witch boy

Looking back maybe you should have payed more attention during that one league meeting your dad took you to where they talked about him

To be fair though, at the time you were surviving on 2 hours of sleep, a combination of redbull and monsters along with hopes and dreams

So you couldn’t be blamed in remembering he had a cat familiar

Or said cat familiar was likely an eldritch level entity in the form of a cat

A cat with red eyes

….ok maybe there were more obvious warnings and you were just excited about the weird cat to notice

As you had a mental debate with yourself there he stood, hair pointed upwards into what looked to be horns and in a suit

Magic twisting around him in a scarlet aura

Distinctly you notice patches of ice blue on the tips of his fingers that quickly distort to the flesh tone consistent with him

And from then on out the encounter with him is…odd to say the least

His cat (whom you then learned was named Teekl) getting up from your lap

Klarion is….odd

He scoops up his familiar fretting over the ginger cat, making subtle threats your way the entire time

Asking the kitty if he had to “erase someone from existence” once again

But luckily for you whatever the cat meows to him is enough for him to cast a glance back to you

Though now not out of suspicion but instead curiosity

(Something perhaps to others would be just as bad)

He quirks an eye at you, looking you up and down once more but now giving you a proper look

Now seeming to notice your own magical aura and companion of otherworldly nature

And suddenly something clicks in his head

“You’re that magic girl I’ve heard about.” He says gliding a hand through the fur of his familiar, the demonic cat purring in content.

“Bit vague of a statement, but yeah that’s one way to describe me I guess” you respond shrugging your shoulders laxly, he seems on edge even with your demeanour.

“And your…not attacking me? Not trying to play goody-two shoes? And “bring me to justice” with a big speech about doing good” He almost seems to hiss this out. A defensive air to him.

“Look dude, I deal with weird inter-dimensional shadow creatures that feed on negative human emotions” you explain pulling out your magical weapon in the shape of an axe, you close an eye and aim while biting your tongue before throwing it to hit said shadowmite clinging to his shoulder. The creature gives out a cry, before dissipating into a melting puddle of inky black sizzling liquid, he stares down now seemingly more intrigued. “I don’t deal with robberies or anything besides those things and the occasional helping someone. Plus I’m decent friends with a few villains of the city”

“I’ve been trying to kill that thing for ages…” he pauses whisky looking down at the creature. Teekl hisses at the disappearing remnants of the creature. “How come your able to destroy them?”

“Only magic from their realm can kill them, I’m the only one with access to it ”

For a long moment the witch boy goes quiet, staring at the spot the puddle used to be. He turns his face to you once more, a smile on his face. “I think I like you Magic girl. Your more interesting than I thought.” He says this so suddenly that your left a bit baffled yet you give him a thumbs up. This seems to make him more amused as a portal opens beneath him, “I’ll be in touch”. With that he left

As he said Klarion would appear to you a few nights later on your lunch break during patrol

Quite literally appearing from nowhere as he laid down kicking his legs back and forth

Along with stealing some of your fries

You had to resist the urge from stopping him from stealing your food, it was still hard getting used to having an abundance of food now

There was no more scraping together to afford cup ramen from the 711 cashier who’d pretend not to notice the missing 50 cents

No more going to go to bed hungry because of the free lunch program at Gotham academy and reasoning you’d save your scraps for dinner the next day

No more barely scraping by just to survive

But never truly live though, surving was different to truly living

You couldn’t call your much of life before your adoption as living

The only moments you did truly feel alive was when you’d save someone or watch old reruns of sailor moon or cardcaptor sakura

Forever dreaming to be a better hero like them

To be a pretty sailor scout who saved the day despite being scared

To be able to enjoy something as mundane as skating on roller blades without potentially being mugged

Though your trying to get used to having free time

Having a Better sleeping schedules

Having Food

And having free time

It’s still feels odd

Still is weird to finally have time to yourself with nothing to fill it with

Even like now on your break during patrol you don’t know how to spend it

But now at least you have more company to fill that uncertainty of what to do

Curiously Klarion eyes your weapon, before finally speaking aloud

For awhile he asks mostly about your abilities

The extent of your power and what type of magic you could do

Showing him your weapon and transformation seems to cause him more questions

Especially since he mumbles to himself about your magic being different to anything he’s seen

As a lord of chaos it was safe to say he was adverse to almost all types of magic there was to offer

So seeing something this new and odd after millenniums of years of being alive is certainly a sight

He even says so to your face

Which brings up the question to you, after so long he’s still a kid?

You get that he probably ages slower than most, almost all magical creatures or people did

But after so long he was still a kid?

You can’t say you relate

You grew up too fast

But maybe that’s why your equally intrigued by the horned boy

You begin to notice that at some point he began to watch you from afar during missions

Sometimes from a rooftop

Other times it’s from an alleyway

Klarion watches and you always find yourself waving to him

But as time goes on he gets closer

Even if Damien or Jason tag along with you

But neither seem to notice him

No one but yourself ever does even if in a crowd of people he’d be someone they’d be fleeing from

Definitely some sort of magic stuff

Or maybe he was just oddly good at blending in

Either way you see him and wave and he gets closer each time

As does his vists during your break where he asks you questions of your magic

Your abilities

What the shadowmites are and what their goals are?

Are they fully sentient?

Their all things that you answer him as best you can, now bringing extra food for him so he didn’t steal from you anymore

Yet despite that he always steals a fry

Probably something he finds funny and something you find yourself less anxious about now

In a lot of ways he reminds you of a cat which is funny considering his familiar

He watched from a distance before getting closer and closer as time went on

Mischievous and sometimes a bit spiteful but with a playful edge like a cat pushing something off a shelf with fluffy claws

Positive interaction usually being something that pushes him farther away at first but now gravitates him closer

It’s odd

He’s odd

But so are you

A lord of chaos and a magical girl definitely weren’t titles that upheld the pillars of normality

So it’s perhaps not odd either of you are the way you are

And yet it draws you both closer like magnets all the same

Meetings get more frequent

As do more topics of much more mundane things being brought up

He asks you about human things he doesn’t understand, questions he’d feel to embarrassed to ask any of his “allies” due to not wanting to be written off as an oblivious kid

Because for as much as Klarion tries to be taken seriously he’s still subtly looked down upon

His chaos seen as little more than that of a child being given godly power to wield at his command

But over your talks you come to see there’s much more to it all

Lords of chaos function differently to humans both physically, emotionally and mentally

What was seen as mindless abject chaos to others was an art form and way of living and expression to them

A means to express and delight in the non-orderly nature of the universe, to live not constricted to the boundaries of reality itself

Constructing a landscape of Picasso paintings come to life or making a smiley face by moving the stars out of their places in their solar systems are a sort of expression to him

They viewed the universe as their canvas

That could be both good and bad in various ways

It’s the same in the fact too much order could be bad

Because chaos and order are a revolving door that need one another

They weren’t objectively good or bad, just neutral in nature until the scales tipped too much in one direction

Because complete anarchy is objectively terrible but so it a totalitarian police state

Both are bad in different ways because the scales are unbalanced

And now he’s left one of the last of his kind, for better or worse

And he’s a lot more lonely than he’d like to admit

Because he’s surrounded in a sea of beings too unfamiliar to his own

Orderly creatures in an orderly society in an orderly world and in an orderly universe or at least that’s how it feels to him

Human bodies function in certain predicable patterns as do the ways their societies work. Cogs and Gears working orderly in a intricate machine

And that makes it all the more confusing and alien to him in a bad way

But you can understand feeling alike to society even if you are human

So you try your best to explain to him

And even if at times he still seems confused he seems appreciative that you try

That you don’t seem to look down on him for not understanding humans and how humanity works as a whole

Because how can anyone assume that he would when he’s a lord of chaos

It’s literally in the name

And from then on it grows

The interest beyond the supernatural to the mundane

You show him the little things in life

Taking him in disguise to your favourite hotdog stand on a corner of a dodgy street down to walking him around Gotham and almost getting shanked along the way

All the while you show him that humanity is quite as orderly as he thought

He sees graffiti sprayed on brick walls, tags of neon colour of names that people try to scrub off but stubbornly and triumphantly remain

A person in odd dress on the street corner waiting for a bus, the way in which their clothes don’t mesh at all and the colour clash but they wear it anyways in style

The little shortcuts you take him to through alleyways and through abandoned buildings still standing to the test of time.

By his smile you think he comes to appreciate it all

The small signs that the machine he assumed humanity to be wasn’t just that

Cogs and gears too big or too small, bringing a bit of chaos in their wake

He knows your identity, you’ve known that he’s known for a long while now, and yet for some reason you trust him with it

Just as he trusts you to treat him all the same while in his true form

Blue skin, red eyes and all

And he’s seen you too

The girl behind the dramatic cutesy clothes, magically changing eyes, hair, face and height

You were just you

Klarion was just Klarion

And Tekyl and Rigel tagging along with it all

But to be honest you’d never thought he’d trust you enough for this

Whats this exactly? Oh well just him dragging you along to a meeting the Light was having as his quote on quote “human translator”

Aka explaining to him human things he didn’t understand

Aka him just wanting you there to sit with him for the duration of said meeting

Your not sure how this happened

Neither is any other member except the old man your pretty sure is Damien’s assassin grandfather

You can tell by the pointed emerald green eyes, similarly deathly composed demeanour and the same look of surprised/somehow impressed he gives you similar to when Damien sees half the shit you deal with

Speaking of which you’ll need to get him on board with Klarion to have another member for clue night

But that was a later issue

The real issue was right now

Klarion arguing with half the people here as you stand there more exasperated than anything

The witch boy occasionally shaking you by the shoulders…and climbing on you hissing and swiping at people who got too close

You see why a demon cat is his familiar

But even Teykl seemed a bit annoyed by his behaviour by how she rolled their eyes

Didn’t know cats could do that but hey, teykl’s also a demon cat so there’s probably a lot she can do compared to regular cats

Just as cute, but more lethal though instead of just getting a quick swipe at your hand

A door opens, a new contender for the fight

Though luckily (or unluckily for you) it’s Deathstroke

Instinctively you wave

And that pauses the fight

“Hey, how was that job abroad? I haven’t seen any dictators dead yet”

“You’ll be seeing it in the news soon, but what are you doing here?”

“Klarion brought me”

“Ah”

“You have a shadowmite on your shoulder, hold on, lemme get get it for you” and with that you transform you magical weapon, sparkles fly as a bright light momentarily flashes the room. In your hands was a battle axe, pink with bows and ribbons flowing as you chuck it at the invisible creature now made visible on Slade’s shoulder when the blade imbeds itself into the things flesh. It screeches reaching a shadowy hand as it’s pinned to the wall, prying your axe from the wall it falls to the floor but can’t get free as you hold it down beneath your foot. There’s no last words for the creature, just hungry screaming for its next victim until the axe comes down on its head severing the tie from this world.

The room is silent for a few moments, “you could’ve killed it with just the throw if you aimed a bit more to the left. Besides that you had good form”

You get to sit between both Klarion and Slade for the meeting

Somehow you doing your hero job impressed (more like terrified) this group of villains

Maybe it was manifesting your weapon from thin air within the blink of an eye

Maybe the fact you threw it at Mach 1

Maybe it was the fact that you could’ve summoned it at any time, make it any weapon you wanted including a bazooka at will

Or maybe it was learning your keeping the literal universe from being eaten on a daily basis from inter-dimensional shadow creatures who’ve eaten countless realities already

Fun thing to explain to such a diverse group ranging from a evil billionaire, a dictator and two immortal men who were older than dirt

The entire meeting you end up keeping Klarion from impulsively deciding to leave because he found it boring and drawn out

To be fair to him it definitely was, but how he’s gotten away with disappearing 30 minutes in each time was beyond you

So somehow you do the impossible

He stays the duration of the full meeting

It’s a first for everyone

What’s also a first is that Tekyl hasn’t gone off and scratched some unfortunate members leg like a scratching post

Mostly because she stayed perched in your lap along with Rigel

Later on when hanging out with Klarion on a roof your not surprised when he mentions that you’ve been offered a “partial membership”

He laughs and burns the letter for you

You’d think that the meeting between Damien and Klarion wouldn’t go well

And you’d be mostly right

At least until Damien spotted Tekyl on klarions shoulder and somehow the two ended up talking about things

And looking past the being a hero and being an super villain they got along well

Well enough that your now slightly worried for anyone who sent you weird messages online again

Because now they’ll have to deal with Tim giving these two their up address

But beyond that you feel bad for Bruce

Because dear god when he finds out Damien invited the lord of chaos to movie night

Jason was gonna love him

Your iffy about Tim but you know Dick is gonna practically wedge himself into the three of you hanging out before Damine threatens him or Klarion sends him halfway across the world or something

Besides all of that though your happy he gets along with Damien

That he has another human friend

Your also proud of Damien as well

Though you do wish he’d stop giving Klarion new ideas for his schemes

Showing him MLP wants a good idea when the character of discord existed

Yeah he had a field day when he was introduced

Chocolate rain and literal actual cotton candy clouds had a lot more of an environmental impact than shown in the kids show

Thankfully it was only the UK that suffered the side effects

And a very pissed off John Constantine

At some point you and Damien begin to sneak him into the manor

Somehow Alfred knew and can only smile and warn the lord of chaos to turn things back to normal before he leaves

And so the fun begins

Damien shows him his swords collection and bat cow

You end up binging madoka magica with him and your collection of magical girl figures

He ends up showing you and Damien some of his magic

And the infinite pillow fort in the corner of your room is born

It literally goes on forever…you think

Is there an end? You don’t know, but all you do know is that at some point you went in there and emerged 7 hours later still not reaching the end

Kinda like the backrooms but with less monsters and piss stained looked walls and carpet but instead with pastel pillows and my melody and kuromi merch scattered around

Now having permission to appear in the manor, or at least in yours or Damien’s rooms he sometimes appears at odd hours of the night

Like you’ll wake up at 4 am and find him hanging out in your room

Sometimes resting in a corner quietly with Tykl

Other times just poking around your room with curiosity, examine various nick knacks you have

Photographs and poosters

High class Jewelry and handmade bracelets

Old magical girl shows on equally old cds and the new HD releases on blue-ray

Books that were yellowed and brand new ones piled on a shelf

He admires them all

Turning them over in his blue palms or tracing them fondly with a pointed finger

He sees the wear and tear in the old and the loving upkeep behind it all

The new items that you gratefully covet like the old

There’s an unexpected and uncharacteristic fragility to his actions

A certain look in his eyes that faulted under the weight of your own once he realizes your awake

In which he then finds himself sitting at your side

Crossing his legs and pretending to stare at nothing in particular

Though you see his gaze occasionally flicker from your window showing the Gotham night and then back to you

It continues like this until you take his hand and get up from bed

Dragging him through the darkened halls

Depending on the night schedule of that particular day sometimes the two of you go to the gardens

Sitting down on the marble benches to listen to the calming sound of water flowing from the fountain

His hands shifting and turning to create illusionary magic

A rabbit hopping through the air in streams of starlight

Like the white rabbit of Alice in wonderland, then slowly leading you to the land of dreams

The next morning you wake up in your bed as if nothing happened

The only proof of the night before being the flower crown he made for you to match the one you made him still on your head

Woven in messy hair

Other times you show him to the library but not before a small detour to the kitchen

Taking the secret stash of Alfred’s beloved cookies to snack on as you read together by the fire

Your duvet blanket wrapped around the two of you and was dragged halfway across the mansion floor

Surely leaving a small trail of feathers in its wake that’ll lead Alfred to you in the morning

And depending on if Damien is there that night you go to knock on his door

Your brother in everything but blood opening his door and inviting the two of you in

Thankfully Damien’s bed was renovated to be big enough to fit him and his pets

So the three of you can laze on it comfortably without being pressed for space

Sometimes a board game is pulled out

Other times you all just talking until passing out

And sometimes when you fall asleep first both he and Damien talk heart to heart

About what exactly your not privy to

But your just happy both get along so well after the bumpy meeting

Sometimes Bruce calls you along with the justice league if they need your help with him

Honestly it’s flattering and funny at the same time

You can’t help but feel a bit bad for his teammates who see your pastels and instantly known that Klarion is gonna pull out the battle in an instant

He used to complain about it

But now the minute you show up and politely chid him for nearly exploding a building he snaps his fingers and things are back to normal

And then he teleports you away to hang out as per usual

Is this usual to everyone but yourself and him and maybe Damien? Highly

But do you care? Not exactly when you have a friend

And also end up helping Bruce/dad

To be honest your still unused to calling him dad yet

You definitely view him as your dad, he’s been the only one besides Rigel to fill that role

But it’s weird saying it aloud

Of carving it in stone

Putting it to paper

Saying how you feel and being emotionally intimate when you’d built up walls and barriers

Opening up is still hard for you, even after various times you had let people in

You’d think it would get easier to open the gate around your heart but there’s always a hint of hesitation each time

Like a twitch in your fingers

A whisper in your mind

Because you care for people

You care about your new family, your friends, Klarion included

And it’s hard each time to feel the guilt of hesitation

Because it isn’t them but it’s you

You feel it now as you sit atop the top of Gotham

Watching the skyline as the cool air blows past

You wish to be open

To speak your mind and break down the walls but it feels so hard in the moment

So odd showing your hand

The cards up your sleeve

Opening the always shut door

How do you even introduce that? Hey here’s my heartfelt feelings

Each time you’ve done it beforehand it’s felt so awkward

So weird starting off

And then you get emotional

And start getting teary eyed and people ask if your ok and that makes you break-

Klarion is the one who starts first

It comes from nowhere, like a sudden burst of chaos that makes sense for him and a surprise for you

He explains to you that “when I gaze at you i see mortality incarnate”

Something that will last moments to him in his life yet will haunt him for the rest of eternity

Like a glass doll that will inevitably break and yet in its fragility holds incomprehensible beauty

A blazing fire that’ll eventually burn out yet it’s gentle warmth lingers

A memory never forgotten and always there even if the moments is long gone

He’s lived so long and will continue to live even when your long gone

He’s similar to Rigel in that regard

Something and someone so consequential that they’ll last millions of years

You’d only become important from chance compared to him and many others

They were born great, with powers or had qualities that made them special

You became a magical girl because Rigel picked you by chance (or at least that’s how you felt)

And yet here’s a lord of chaos, an god in almost human form saying you were important

That you were special besides your powers

He explains to you that he’s met many magic users

Some competent others masters

Yet none were like you

But what was initial the thing that drew him in didn’t matter

One day he would’ve forgot, it would’ve faded from his chaos filled brain eventually

But what remains is you

Not the magic, the thing that made you special

But you

Just you at your most plain and simple

It wasn’t the magical girl who saves Gotham from an invisible force that not even he could fight

Not the frills and magical transformations or weapons

Not the limited magical abilities that could make you level a building easily

It was just you

All the times you’d shown him through the streets of Gotham

The willingness to explain to him concepts of humanity he didn’t understand

The kindness in your gaze when he shows you his true form without a hint of apprehension

“And it’s there” he says that he comes to value you for all your worth, humans for all their worth

Because despite their fate set in stone

The fact that they can die so easily compared to just about everything in the galaxy

Despite it all they shine the brightest somehow

Because beings like himself have hundreds of millions of years to do something with their lives

To shine slowly and at a snails pace becomes stars

But humans with their short lives make the most of it all

They may die but in those terminally short years to others in this large universe they become a supernova

And their impact is heard and felt across time and space itself

Because sometimes despite it all an ant can move a mountain and that’s a whole lot more impressive than when a god does it

And an ant doing it will always be more impactful when it knows that at the end it’ll die moving that mountain

But does it anyways

“This…may be be a weird question but in a hundred years when I’m dead and gone…will you remember me?” You ask this in a moment of fragility, looking up to the smoggy night sky. Distantly you see the small glimmer of starlight hundreds of millions of lightyears away behind the pollution. “Even if I’m a blip in the grand scheme of things”

Klarion looks to those same stars, with a swipe of his hand the sky clears. For the first time in a hundred years Gotham sees the natural night sky. The dark navy blue of midnight and the hundreds of thousands of speckles of light dot the sky. “I will, somehow you humans make longer impacts than any creature I’ve ever met. For better or worse” it’s spoken in sincerity as he looks with you at the night, and distantly he chooses a star and decides that it’s you. A star he’ll one day look at when your dead and gone, a star that might already be dead and fizzled out and yet its light and impact still crosses the galaxy hundreds of thousands of years later to still shine, to still meet his eyes in the infinite dark if night.

A star that he would nurture and protect

To keep its light from going out

A star that one day he’ll clutch closely as the universe comes to a close from natural causes or the ravenous mouths of the creatures you fight

He says his piece and opens the way to say your own.