#goin in order from left to right

[ingapotejtoo]

Welcome back Hunters and Good Luck.

[tojisteddy]

Acknowledge Me

or: Simon finally gives you attention after you piss him off.

“The power it takes, to make me cry that way. Baby, I hate me when you get under my skin.”

cw: 3.6k words (lord), 18+ MDNI, Toxic!Simon/Meanie!Simon, smut with plot, daddy kink (daddy, pa), dubcon, p in v, dacryphilia, degradation (like hell), water park amusement, pvssy slapping, creampie, marathon!, intoxicated sex, pet names (lovie, doll, pup), overstim, orgasm denial, straight debauchery, after care, y/n visuals.

a/n: acknowledge me by doja cat was the big inspo.

Were you a fucking stupid brat?

Or were you simply itching for attention that you deserved?

If you told your friends, they wouldn’t call you a fucking brat. Stupid? Yeah.

For being with a man who didn’t hesitate to curse you out when you annoyed him. Simon Riley didn’t even flinch when you started hearing those hiccups over the phone, he could already picture your trembling bottom lip, huffed out cheeks and tears forming at your water line. If anything it pissed him off further.

“Don’t fuckin try it with those tears [+]. I fuckin told you, you tell me where the fuck you’re goin. Why the fuck did I have see you move to five different bars in three fuckin hours and you didn’t say a word to me about it till now!?” Simon yelled through the phone.

“You and your dumb ass friends are too fuckin reckless—“

“—Don’t call them that-“ you chided.

“-Oh, I promise you lovie, I don’t give a shit.” his voice with venom.

For fucks sake, it was supposed to be a fun night out and if you were one of your friends, it would’ve been. You and your friends loved bar hopping, enjoying the vibe wherever you went and free alcohol that men and women would order for you. You don’t remember how many bars ago, but your phone died somewhere in the middle and you did spend about five minutes at the last 6 bars trying to find an outlet before your friends dragged you away to the dance floor. That had to count for something, right? You did try to get some form of life on your phone for thirty minutes!

You’d finally gotten to an outlet, right next to the fucking bathroom. ‘15 missed called 4 new messages.’ A string of curses leaving your mouth once you dialed that memorized phone number. And there Simon was, talking to you out the ass while the music was booming in the distance, you had your phone in one hand and a finger in the other trying to hear him properly, the smell of only-god-knows from god-knows-what filling your poor nose all so you could attempt to fix your accidental boo-boo :( — but that bastard had to have you crying in the club.

Like you were thirsty for his attention. you were.

No, none of this was your fault. You didn’t need to update the 6’4, blonde, hunk of a damn brat, when he hadn’t even bothered to contact you in a month.

Yup, the ghost was actually known for ghosting you.

Purposely declining your calls, leaving your texts on read or worse: replying with a ‘k’ when you tried to meet up when you knew (least for the most part) he kept to himself. When he was stationed near by, he was at his own fucking house minding his own business. He was the worst. And the cherry on top?

The fucker had your location on.

You swore he did this to get a rise out of you, to see you teetering off the brink of sanity— and you had to attempt to reel yourself back in every. fucking. time. You weren’t his little plaything, you didn’t need him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” you mumbled, salty tears hitting your mouth. Those would be the last for the night, you swore it. It was like the liquor finally left your heart and went to your brain. Liquid courage.

“What’dyou just say t’me?”

Louder, “I said, don’t fuck with me! I’m sick of your shit Simon!” You snapped. You weren’t an angry person, you’d just hit an annoying wall you needed to get though. The annoying wall called Ghost Riley.

“You always- always come out of the fucking blue ‘nd think you tell me what to do! I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what the fuck I’m doin! Don’t be bitchy at me cause I like to have a little fuckin fun with my friends even when you’ve been ignoring me. Fuckin ignoring me instead of telling me what’s up! The fuck do I gotta do to get you off my dick?!”

“You like the messy shit, Si! You like seein me pissed at you just so you’re the one who has to come and fix it! I can’t stand it. You should go find a bitch who likes that shit because I don’t! I hate how I feel right now and I hate that you can’t be one of those kind boyfriends who’ll come and fuckin hold me nice and shit! Hell, maybe I’ll go find someone to hold me realll nice like since you fuckin won’t!” You spat, nose flaring, you were trembling with rage.

“Pup,” one word. Cut throat. Yanking you right back down to reality. “You take your pretty ass home, ‘nd I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

You felt your chest rising and falling rapidly, you were frustrated that he clearly didn’t listen to your little rant but you felt your panties get damp. Just a bit. Just like always when you saw a punishment coming. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I-“

“—She’s busy right now please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” Your friend, Sharon, has snactched your phone out of you hand, quickly interjecting your conversation with the man and hanging up. She hiccuped, nodding her head in satisfaction.

“You can’t spend the whoooole night by this stinky ass bathroom. Let’s go daaaaance, or-or drink.” She giggled, taking your hands. “Or both!” She squealed at her own words.

Fuck it.

You went out with your friends so you could have a good time, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Simon had such a nice way of breaking you down to your knees, so you were the one sobbing and begging then bringing you back up. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that fucking mean, but he did it when you really pissed him off. Simon needed you to understand— you weren’t in charge. He was. The man doesn’t remember exactly what you did to piss him anymore, it had been a long and grueling month for him anyway. But he had to follow through with something because he’d be damned if he had to actually apologize, you being with your idiot friends didn’t help your case. So he threw it in the melting pot of why he had a right to bully you.

The motherfucker couldn’t help himself.

When he entered your empty and annoyingly small studio apartment, he added another mark to his ‘reasons to fuck babygirl up’ list. He told you to take your sweet ass home, didn’t he? And where were you?

He’d make sure the neighbors knew exactly who the fuck he was.

It should’ve been easy for you to check in, no? He worried about your safety above all else, but it always seemed to fly out the window when you were with your friends who were notorious and extreme party girls while you just went with the flow. He didn’t not like them sober, it’s when you went clubbing you, for some reason, would get hard headed, defiant. It pissed him off, which would always lead to an argument. Usually he’d come snatch you up while you were tipsy, you’d have a cry in the car, mumbling something about how you just knew the man didn’t like you or take you serious.

And partially, Ghost didn’t. He brushed your insecurities away at first, thinking nothing of it as you went about your life. But you kept being on edge drunk or sober. So he would be right there, finger fucking you otherwise while the car was still in motion. And maybe you were right, maybe he wasn’t the sweet and soft boyfriend you wanted who’d hold your cute little hand when you made him angry. He wasn’t the type to coddle you, chicken peck your face with kisses when you felt down. Simon Riley was the gruff and overbearing man you needed to set you straight, keep you grounded when the world went to shit.

That’s what your cute little tantrum was about, least part of it was. Simon knew he was distant, you just needed a reminder he was yours and you were his. And only his. You craved him like you needed food, it was obvious to anyone who saw you two together. He chuckled, couldn’t believe you even suggested fucking some other man. As if they could handle you, as if they knew what you needed.

He’d set that attitude straight.

The shower was running when the front door of your flat closed behind you. There’s no way you left it on this whole time, did you? You didn’t remember. The night turned into a long one.

No, you didn’t get black out drunk like your friends suggested. You had another shot or two, deciding to stay on the sober side with your DD. You two did smoke a fat blunt before hitting another club though, that made you feel like you were starting to lose your hearing. But it mellowed you out completely. The anger you felt, all that angst and sadness? Gone like a snap of your fingers. The person who was yelling and crying earlier? Technically it wasn’t you, you just needed a little peace. A little medicinal help.

After singing and dancing as hard as you could, your drunk friends taking blurry photos and videos of you that you’d probably post later, you persuaded them it’d be best to get something to eat and head home around two am. It took thirty minutes to find a convenience store that was open so you could chow down on something, and fifteen to get home. With a basically empty bag of chips in one hand, purse slung over your shoulder like a duffle, a bag of junk food in your other hand, low red eyes and a small smile— you finally got home.

You’d deal with that asshole tomorrow. Or next week— maybe next month if you gave enough of a fuck like he did.

Who knows.

You sat the bag of food on the coffee table, right now the priority was your skin care routine, then eat, then zonk out till 2 pm. You still can’t believe you left the shower and the bathroom light on that was now blinding your eyes but whatever. You’d turn it off as soon as you were done since it was warm due to the slight steam.

Routine, routine, routin— you stumbled over a pile of clothes. Large male clothes— okay, maybe you were in the wrong apartment.

Not your first rodeo.

You’d just slowly back out and try looking for your apartment. No big deal.

But the shower curtain swung open and you tripped over the clothes, falling right on your ass with a yelp.

“Ya can’t be that fuckin drunk, can ya?”

Your eyes darted open, right at the familiar deep cockney accent— Simon Riley was right there in the flesh, water dripping down his scarred and large body, making him dazzle like a God in that fucked up bathroom light.

Now that was blinding.

“Hello? Are ya listenin?”

Oh, he really wanted an answer.

“ ‘M not drunk.” You said breathlessly. Intoxicated? Yes. But not drunk. The shots had worn off ages ago. Hell, maybe your high was too at the sight of this brute.

What the fuck was he doing here?

The blonde ignored the confused look on your face. Taking a towel that sat on the sink and drying his hair. No point in drying off anything else, he was about to sweat.

So were you.

Simon continued on, stepping past you and you quickly got up, following right behind him like a starved puppy. For someone who hated your apartment, he sure walked around like he owned the place. Nude, large cock swinging, and the look of annoyance written on his handsome unmasked face.

He sat on the bed, manspreading nonchalantly. Knowing you were looking at it, your eyes immediately went elsewhere.

“What do you want?” You mumbled out, shifting from foot to foot.

As if you didn’t know what was bound to happen.

The older man laughed, sarcasm dripping down his throat.

“Be good ‘nd strip, won’t repeat myself.”

“Si-Simon!” Your breath hitched once a large hand came down on your ass, once for good measure.

“Who?” He slapped his thick member on your ass, sliding it through the crevice of your cheeks.

“But- but Simon-“ another slap.

“You’re gonna make it worse for yourself, call me proper.” He smacked his cock over your glistening folds. So fucking wet.

“Daddy mmph,” You moaned.

“All this ‘b-b-but’ bullshit from ya. You’ve pissed me off more than enough. You’ll take all of it today.” Simon slipped inside your hole, filling you to the brim even with half of that girthy cock in you. You both hissed, fuck, it was always so good when he was inside your walls. Simon slowly started to rock his hips into you, slowly but surely making sure you took every inch if his manhood had to offer.

It was when he bottomed out, you knew you were in for it. Simon wasn’t talking to you, he forced your head down on the bed, forcing your back to arch further as he thrusted right at your spot. Over and over and over.

“Gonna cum pa, gonna cum.” You stuttered, feeling the pit in your stomach starting to turn.

“No you’re not.”

“—But—”

“I dare you [+]. I know you’d just looove seein how that turns out.”

You hiccuped, tears brimming as Simons pace got faster. You could feel him throbbing inside you but he wouldn’t cave. He was making the both of you suffer over a petty argument— a mistake that in any normal relationship wouldn’t be that serious.

“I- no- anngh— I need to cum—”

“-You don’t need shit you greedy. fuckin. bitch.” He grunted, swatting your ass with every thrust.

The man yanked you up by your tosseled hair, “You had your oh-so lovin Daddy fuckin worried about’cha so you can be safe then when I finally get a hold of ya ‘nd tell you to go home, you ignore me. Threatenin to go fuck some idiot, but he couldn’t fuck you like I can? Can he? Can’t keep you pretty ‘nd upright? Can he?” His hand trailed from your throat to the buldge at your stomach. He scuffed, “now you’re itching t’cum just because I have my cock right here in ya? Fuckin dumb bitch shit,”

“You a dumb bitch?” He asked, making sure you were fucking him back. Ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

“Noooo.” You cried out, trying to get away but it only made the brute dig into you further.

“What?”

“No sir.”

“Thaaats right princess. You're my smart little girl, listen to me next time. Good on you- fuck— for tryin to salvage yourself.” He huffed.

You didn’t realize your own toes curling at that small praise, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

“Hold it, did you just fuckin cum? When I told you not to?” He growled, forcing you to look at his eyes that were practically red with anger.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You really couldn’t help yourself, you’d been holding it for how long? And you were still kinda high which made you feel the sensations ten fold, Simon was drilling into you like no tomorrow and then he gave you an inch of kindness after being so mean to you this whole fucking time.

Your body unconsciously took a mile.

“Nope.” He yanked you back to lay your back on him, the rest of his drenched length in you, and lifted your leg so it was over your head, legs parted like the red sea. The first smack on your cunt for the night had you screaming, water spraying out.

Simon gripped your chin, forcing you to look down at the mess you created while harshly rubbing your pearl, still thrusting into you from behind, “You wanna act like a greedy bitch and think with your pussy? Then you cum like a greedy fuckin bitch. Cum you dirty pup.”

And he kept smacking down on your poor cunt, unable to stop yourself from cumming and squirting. Completely creaming Simons girthy cock so that a ring of cum formed around the base of his length.

“Daddy I can’t-“ you keened.

The man scowled, “-Shut. the fuck. up. You never shut the fuck up, the only thing I wanna hear is how fucking wet that pussy is. Keep fuckin cummin like a dirty slut you are.”

And you did.

You were wetting the bed like a dog. Water flying everywhere with every thwack of Simons hand on your abused and misused clit. You didn’t even know how many times you had cum by that point. Words? What were those? You wouldn’t even be able to read a street sign or name your favorite color if asked.

You were seeing pure white, the only thing you could hear was the loud squelching of Simon pumped himself in and out of you. He pulled out for a second causing you to whine at the loss of him, but he slipped back into your tight walls, fucking you in a nice missionary.

He gave your face a few light smacks to the face, tutting “Ah, ah, ah, pup, don’t you fuckin pass out. Eyes on Daddy.”

You managed to pry those long lashes open, hooded and lower than they could ever get when you were high.

“Therrrre my pretty girl is. Look so good bein fuckin stupid on my dick doll. This is alllll my girl needed. A good lesson, yeah? Remind ‘er who’s boss, huh?” He smirked, dragging himself down to you so your legs were at your chest.

“Shit baby, feel you squeezing down on me. Wanna cum with me? Missed me given it to ya just like you always need?” Oh, you were crying again. Yeah, you did miss his mean ass.

And his mean beautifully scarred up face, the mean way his muscles flexed when he did anything, his stupid fucking mouth that had to say some stupid shit touching your full lips, his disgustingly sexy muscular yet pudgy stomach with a happy trail touching your stomach everytime he wrapped those arms around you. His massive presence when he stood next to you, mean brown eyes watching while you did your hair, your makeup, or got dressed. Heartless hands that rubbed your neck everytime he didn’t know how to comfort you because that asshole trying his hardest to understand you.

And that undeniably cruel, overly massive cock fucking you like you were the final girl getting a well deserved an award for making it out the trenches in a horror film.

Your head was full with the thought of daddy, daddy, daddy— you shook your head but you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You hung on to whatever bullshit that man gave you. Only him. Always him.

“Wan- I wan it pa! Wan your cum in me.” you babbled through your sobs.

“Course ya fuckin do. Can’t do shit without me.” The older man crooned. He finally planted his lips on yours, you moaned at just the feel. Pink walls fluttering in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim. Slow thrusts making sure he pumped everything he had into your perfect cunt.

So much for not crying anymore.

The only sound you could be heard in that studio was you cries, like a fucking baby, bouncing off your thin walls. The headboard was finally able to rest, you knew for a fact your neighbors probably despise your being now.

“Why didn’t you- you come see me? I wanted- hicc- I wanted to see you. But- but- you wouldn’t come see me! Wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone,” You sobbed, tripping and falling through your words. “you must hate me.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ever say tha’. How can I hate’cha ‘nd your mine? Doesn’t make sense mama.”

“Didn’t call me though.” You were sprawled out on the bed now, fat tears escaping your eyes. The blonde was sitting on the bed, grabbing the bottled water that he kept in the nightstand, opening it and putting it to your lips to drink. You did, lifting just enough for a bit to go down your bound to be sore throat and flopping back on the bed.

“Was busy swee’art.” Half truth, half lie. Though it was habit, he was trying to keep you in the loop of his life this time. But old habits die hard. The man forgot to reply. His work schedule was fucked, and he was busy spending his free time moving house. The house he planned to give you, it just wasn’t ready yet. Simon was actually being good for you, for once.

“You’re not always busy Si, you just don’t like my annoying voice!” You whimpered.

It took everything in the older brute to not laugh, you were bein so fucking cute. Babbling nonsense but still clinging to him like a lifeline. Still wanting, still his baby girl.

“Told ya, you weren’t annoyin. Got a nice voice, so get it out silly skull.” He cooed, sitting you on your bottom to face him.

You sniffed, moaning and groaning in annoyance but choosing to accept those words. And only those though.

“Fucks sake, Stop it.”

“I caaaant.” You whined, profusely wiping your tears.

“No, dummy.” Simon pushed your hands off your own face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs that continued to poor out, “Yer gonna throw a fuckin fit if your face ends up bein puffy cause you wipe your tears so damn rough. Take it easy.”

No one knew how to wipe your tears better than the man who created them.

“I wanna make up, you don’t want to?” That was as close to an apology you’d ever get. Always.

A proper Ghost apology was rare as is and you wouldn’t be getting that after your little tantrum tonight. So you ate up what you could get.

“I wanna- I wanna make up too Daddy.” You croaked, dragging out your words. Adorable princess.

“Pfft,” he ruffled your now messy, sweated out hair, “I gotcha.”

“Up you go.” Like a feather, Simon lifted you from the bed, walking to the bedroom you too had been at who knows how many hours ago. He gently sat you on the counter of the sink,

“Let’s get you all ready for bed, yeah?”

a/n: I really love meanie!Simon the most. Let me know what you think about him.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: On patrol you accidentally get hurt and try to hide it from Joel.]

If Anything Should Happen

Angst semi fluff

Joel was supposed to go on patrol with you that morning but after promising Ellie that he’d show her a few songs on the guitar you told him you’d go with Tommy and Jesse. If there was anyone Joel trusted to go on patrol with you, it was his brother. Plus with Ellie finally opening up to Joel, you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

“You take care of my girl, Tommy” he patted your horse as you moved up by the gates.

Tommy looked down at his older brother and gave him a nod of reassurance before the three of you went on your way.

“She’ll be fine, you know how Tommy is” Maria tried to assure Joel who didn’t take his eyes off you as you rode away.

~~

“I wish he’d be more relaxed whenever I have to go on patrol, I could tell how much he hates it” you spoke with Tommy as you both went down a trail, Jesse close behind.

“Hey but that’s, Joel. He’s gonna protect what’s his, hell, I hate it when Maria has to do anything that can risk her safety.”

“Yeah, I know. I get it” you sighed looking off into the distance when Jesses voice distracted you and Tommy.

“What the hell is that?” You turned behind to see him staring at something in the woods you couldn’t make out. Jesse jumped off his horse walking towards what he saw, you and Tommy quickly followed.

“Where the hell are you goin’?!” Tommy called out to him just as you heard movement beside you. You both froze reaching for your guns, Jesse nowhere in sight.

“Stay right here” Tommy whispered as he slowly moved ahead, you stood still, gun in hand watching your surroundings. Tommy quietly moving ahead when you heard another quick movement coming from your left and quickly turned only to hear a gunshot go off.

It all happened so quickly, the sudden intense burning sensation on your waist, the sound of Tommy’s voice muffled in the background.

“The hell did you do?!”

“Oh shit, oh shit-“ Jesse panicked, everything felt like a blur, you hadn’t even noticed you fell on the ground.

“What..the..hell?” You whispered looking down at your bloody shirt, Tommy’s voice suddenly louder and clearer.

“Don’t move” he quickly knelt down beside you, slowly lifting up your shirt.

“Thank God” Tommy whispered as you slowly felt yourself coming back to reality.

“W-what?”

“Didn’t go through, grazed ya pretty good but you’ll be fine, let me just stop the bleedin’ till we get back”

“Shit, I’m so sorry” Jesse rushed towards you.

“Joel’s gonna kill you” was all Tommy could say as he wrapped up your waist with a spare shirt.

“No” you whispered slowly propping yourself up on your elbows

“Move slow” Tommy ordered giving you his hand as you winced getting on your feet.

“No one’s telling Joel anything” you looked up at Tommy who had a look of disbelief.

“You know how he gets about you. He finds out you were hurt and I didn’t tell him-“

“So what, blame me. He doesn’t need to know, I don’t need him worrying anymore than he already does”

“And how the hell are ya gonna hide that?” He looked down at your wounded area.

“I’ll figure it out, just promise me you won’t say anything” You could see the hesitation in his eyes. If anyone knew how Joel would react it would be his brother.

“Please, Tommy”

After a tense moment of silence he gave in.

“I’ll distract him when we get back, so you have time to change. I’ll stop by and get some pain medication and send someone to clean it up for ya” you breathed in relief.

“Thank you, Tommy” you whispered.

“Yeah, thanks” Jesse intervened making Tommy narrow his eyes on him.

“Get back on the damn horse and put your gun away,” he ordered, Jesse anxiously got back to where he was.

With the pain you felt, how you were able to get back on that damn horse even with Tommy helps, you’ll never know. The whole ride home he kept looking over at you, riding slower than he usually did to make sure you were ok, he really was like a big brother to you.

Once you returned, Tommy did just as he said he would. He found Joel in the house sitting at the table with Ellie, a smile on his face watching her play the guitar till he noticed his brother walking in.

“Everything go ok?” He took off his glasses, an anxious look in his eyes.

“Yeah, everything’s good” Tommy felt guilty lying through his teeth.

“Where is she?” He slightly leaned over hoping to see you walking in behind Tommy.

“Said she wanted to go check on what ingredients we have to make something for the event,” Joel furrowed his brows as he walked around the table.

“Hm-“ he scratched his chin with the tip of his index finger.

“Coulda sworn she checked on it this mornin’”

“Hey, guys” you walked in casually, your hands crossed before you as Joel walked towards you with a smile.

“Hi darlin’” he greeted you with a kiss to your forehead.

“So, Joel taught me the coolest song ever” Ellie interrupted with excitement.

“Are ya gonna play it at the dance?”

“No way! I just started learning it, gotta perfect it first” she stood up excitedly taking her guitar to the room as Joel turned back to you.

“Had fun today?” You asked with a smile seeing the happiness in his eyes.

“Yeah, it was a good day, how about you?” He put an arm around you.

“The boys take good care of you? Or do I need to have a talk with someone?” He teased not noticing the uncomfortable look in Tommy’s eyes. Tommy knew it wasn’t no damn tease and he knew it wouldn’t have been no damn talk either.

“They were great” you smiled up at him when his smile slowly faded.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?” You whispered confused.

His hand slowly coming up to your face, taking a hold of it as he moved it from one side to the other.

“Why do ya look pale?”

“I don’t look pale” you shook your head taking your face out of his grasp.

“Tommy she don’t look pale to ya?”

He silently shook his head tightening his lips.

“Come on, let’s go relax for a bit, I’m tired ” you sighed attempting to change the subject. Joel agreed walking beside you out the door till you pretended to forget something in the room.

Quickly creeping in you found Tommy lost in thought rubbing his forehead till he heard your footsteps. Somewhat relieved to see you alone he rushed towards you.

“Did you take the medicine I left ya?” He whispered.

“Yes, thank you. I’m fine, Tommy”

“You do look pale, you sure you feel alright?”

“Yes” you sighed.

“If something else looks wrong even the slightest bit, I ain’t stayin quiet. I’m just lettin’ ya know” he rushed off past you and left the house.

~~

The next day you woke up feeling a little more sore than the day before. The area on your side feeling tender surrounding the actual wound itself, you wondered if that was normal. Looking at yourself in the mirror you lifted your shirt before hearing the door open behind you, quickly you pulled it back down.

“How’d ya sleep, honey?” Joel came up behind you, his hand sliding over your waist, thankfully opposite of where the wound was.

“I slept ok, I know we have a long night with the dance.”

“If ya don’t wanna go we don’t have to, you just say the word” he looked at you through the mirror.

“It’s fine, I already promised Maria. It’s ok, we’ll have a good time” you smiled but Joel knew you, your smile didn’t meet your gaze.

“Is something botherin’ you?” You turned to him and caressed his face, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips that he could never resist.

“I’m fine, let’s get ready for the day” you assured him with a gentle kiss and went on your way.

~~

That night getting ready for the event you found yourself feeling a little weak but pushed through it. Joel noticed you were more quiet than usual and kept an eye on you as he always did. You had cleaned the wound up the best you could before leaving but still something felt off.

The moment you arrived to the gathering, you noticed Tommy look directly at you from across the room and when he did, you knew that was it. The simple walk from the house to the party throwing you off, you felt queasy and it showed. Joel holding your hand leading you further into the event, you gently tugged at his arm.

“Joel”

Tommy got closer.

“What is it, baby?” He turned to you, instantly noticing something didn’t look right.

“You alright, what’s the matter?” His hand quickly releasing yours to caress the side of your face and that’s when he grew more concerned.

“Jesus, baby ya burnin’ up-“

“Joel, we gotta talk” Tommy cut in.

“Tommy don’t” you whispered, you knew how Joel would react, especially towards Jesse.

“I shoulda said something the moment we came back but…there was an accident”

“The hell are ya talkin’ about, Tommy?” He turned towards him.

“Joel-“ your voice barely heard, the music continued to play as no one noticed the tense conversation between the two.

“It was an accident-“ Tommy repeated trying to remind his brother before telling him what played out.

“What the hell happened, Tommy?” He grew more desperate by the minute with what his brother needed to share.

“We thought there was some infected or raiders, we heard somethin’ but didn’t find anyone. Jesses gun went off-“

“Tommy, I’m fine dammit!”

“The bullet didn’t go through her but it grazed her pretty bad-“ Joel quickly turned to you, an alarmed look in his brown eyes.

“You were shot at” he whispered as you quickly shook your head.

“Under her shirt, left side” Tommy continued bluntly.

“No-“ you attempted to stop him but Joel moved towards you and quickly lifted up your shirt to see gauze wrapped around your waist beginning to fill with blood. The color draining from his face, worry mixed with anger. How the hell did someone accidentally shoot at you?

How the hell didn’t he notice?

“We need to get cha inside, right now. Tommy-“ he turned to his brother.

“I should’ve told you, I know-“

“We will deal with that later. You bring me a doctor, meet me at the house.”

There was no use in even trying to go against Joel at this point. You could tell he was angry but more so you could see the concern he felt helping you walk back to the house. You could see him looking over at you repeatedly to make sure you were alright, that was his first priority.

“Joel, don’t be mad at them-“

“Don’t talk right now, save your energy till they make sure you’re alright” he replied looking ahead, his arm around your waist, his hand careful to not rest on the wound but still enough to help balance you.

As the doctor checked you, Joel anxiously stood over his shoulder with his arms crossed watching what he was doing.

“Is it infected?” Joel asked.

“Too early to tell but looks like it’s gettin’ there. I’ll give her some antibiotics”

“And I’ll be fine for patrol tomorrow?” Your question making Joel narrow his eyes on you.

“You think you’re goin’ back out there any time soon?” His brows grew knit.

“Joel-“

“He’s right, should slow down for a few days. Let this heal properly” the doctor agreed. You couldn’t look up at Joel, you knew what he was thinking, there wasn’t anything you could say.

Once the doctor finished dressing your wound properly he left you and Joel alone together. A tense moment of silence, Joel didn’t know what reaction to even begin with. Pacing back and forth, Tommy could hear his footsteps loudly outside the door.

“So this was Jesses doin’ huh?”

“He didn’t do it on purpose” you quickly responded, a quick glance at him through the corner of your eye as he stopped to face you.

“Don’t matter, he put cha in danger. Kid shouldn’t be allowed with a damn gun till he’s properly trained” his nostrils flared just as Tommy walked in.

“How she doin’?”

“And you” Joel turned to him, hands on his hips.

“What the hell, Tommy”

“I know” he looked down in defeat.

“You shoulda known better”

“I know” Tommy didn’t bother to argue, he knew he was right.

“Don’t blame Tommy, I asked him not to say anything” you cut in but he didn’t take his eyes off his brother.

“Still, he shoulda been more alert, kept ya safe. Let alone at least tell me when my woman was hurt-“

“It happened so fast, Joel, Tommy did take care of me” you sat up faster than you meant to causing a sharp pain making you gasp. Joel quickly turning to you rushing to your side.

“Easy, lay down, baby” his hand gently guiding you to lay back on the bed as you looked up at him desperately.

“I know Jesse could be an idiot at times but he didn’t do it on purpose and Tommy-“ Joel looked down at you silently listening to what you had to say word for word.

“You can’t be mad at him, you should’ve heard everything he said to Jesse the whole ride home, he ripped him a new one” Tommy couldn’t help but silently smirk in the background, if there was one person that could make Joel break, it would be you. Joel took one look at his brother then back at you, you swallowed nervously waiting for some kind of a response.

“Now as to why Tommy kept your little secret. I know how persuasive you can be” he whispered.

“But I will have a word with Jesse” you sighed.

“Nothin’ like this is to be kept from me again. Am I clear?”

“Joel-“

“Am I clear?” His eyes narrowed on you until you nodded before turning to his brother.

“Never again” Tommy whispered.

“I’m sorry, Joel” you whispered, the sight of tears building up in your eyes was enough to soften Joel’s.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re ok” he whispered, his hand caressing your face, his thumb gently wiping the tears away.

“You get your rest, don’t worry about anything else, alright?” You nodded and took a deep breath.

After both men left the room allowing you to rest Tommy could see Joel was still left uneasy. His mind lost in thought as he sat at the table crossing his arms.

“You alright?”

Joel was silent for a moment, biting his inner lip staring off into the distance.

“How the hell didn’t I notice?” He blurt out looking back at his brother.

“Joel, you can’t blame yourself for not knowing what she was hidin’” Joel shook his head stubbornly.

“No, I knew somethin’ wasn’t right. I could see it in her face. I just- she shouldn’t have gone on that patrol without me. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Well Jesse won’t be on patrol for a while.” Tommy assured him.

“Neither will she” Joel uttered low looking back in the direction you were in. The thought of how worse it could’ve actually been haunted him. The thought of anything happening to you was one he couldn’t live with.

@moonpascal @katmoonz @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @heartpatch @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @lonely-ey3s

@elliesr1fle @ro-nahime-things @laliceee @just-mj-or-not @iamtoriasworld @katwriteshardy @lily-mylove @antobooh @sukivenue @keileighr

[dilfstarr]

Eren x black fem reader

꒰𝜗𝜚꒱a/n: eren catching and stopping that attitude before it starts. something quick while i finish his other fics. thank yall again for all the love

꒰𝜗𝜚꒱warning: Eren is an eaterrrr, a single slap to the thigh, lowkey arrogant!Eren, dom!Eren/sub!reader, masturbation, slight overstimulation

The sound of his keys scraping against the marble counter top was enough for you to break your neck in that direction.

“Where you goin’?”

He chuckled before replying, “I have to run to Michael’s for more paint and brushes.”

“And you couldn’t do that before you got a haircut?”

“Slipped my mind.”

Shit always slipped his mind whenever he got a touch up on his hairline and a quick fade. You wasn’t against your man wanting to looking good—no, but he can look good in the house.

You kissed your teeth, mumbling a whatever before going back to watch your ghetto Sunday show.

The sound of his keys being dropped on the counter is heard followed by the heavy sound of his sneakers walking towards the spacious front room. He stood right in front of you—blocking your show. His hand was out—an invitation for you to grab it

“Move. They are about to fight.”

“C’mere.”

“Eren.”

He said your name as a reply, in the same tone you used.

His fingers moved in a come here motion—urging you to stand up and do it quickly before he gets irritated. Reluctantly putting your hand on top of his, he pulled you up. You followed behind him like a lost puppy as he lead you to the dinner table?

“Sit.” He pointed towards the wooden table.

“Eren no. We eat on this table.”

“I’m about to eat. Now sit.”

Now if anyone was to walk in, god forbid, they would think Eren is eating a good ass bowl of ramen. Just slurping and smacking, until a looong drag of your high pitched moan is heard.

He held both of your wrist in each of his hands, tugging you towards him to watch. His makeshift bun was lazily wrapped in the damp fabric of your panties. Your ass was hanging off the wood just enough to where your juices didn’t drip on the table, instead dropping on Eren’s lap and floor.

“Juuus’ like that daddy! You s-so gooood to me!”

You begin to lean back—head looking towards the ceiling. Your breathless moans sounded so sexy—echoing into the high ceiling. Acrylic nails dug into your palms while your toes curl into the ball of your feet.

“E-eren! Ohmygoderen!”

With a tug of your arms, you’re forced to watch the man making you act the complete fool. The peak of his nose was shiny—wet, as it occasionally kissed your clit. His eyes were low and blown as he watched you fall apart from beneath—drinking from your overflowing fountain. Your was stomach filled with butterflies when he winked at you with his left eye

The sound of his chair screeching against the floor rumbled in your ringing ears. He scooted the dinning chair closer—diving deeper. His skillful tongue toyed with your swollen clit before leaning and giving it a wet kiss. He glanced at your glistening pussy—admiring his work.

“She’s fuckin’ droolin’. Who got her this wet? Hm?”

“Y-you! You did Eren.”

“Me?”

“Yeaa!”

“Yeaa!” He mocked. “Wan’ Eren to keep goin’?”

Nodding ecstatically, you tuck your bottle lip between your teeth. “Yes please! Mmm I’ll be so good! I s-swear!”

At that moment, he knew he had you right where he needed wanted you—desperate.

“You gonna let me leave without catching an attitude?”

“Mhhhm!”

“Say it.”

He placed both of your wrist in the grasp of one of his hands while the other gently played beneath your wet folds.

“You can leave without me c-catch-ing, huggh! Fuucck- attitude.”

He smacked the inside of your thigh before he scolded you.

“Watch ya fuckin’ mouth. Lay your arms out nd’ don’t move.

Your knuckles knocked against the wood of the table—complying to his orders almost instantaneously. Without him having to hold you—he had complete freedom with his hands, mainly his fingers.

The sticky sound of your pussy lips opening up sounded similar to a soggy, syrup filled pancake being lifted off a paper plate. Your folds opened like curtains with his two thumbs. Your clit throbbed and your wet hole clenched—both from anticipation.

“You’re such a pretty fuckin’ girl.”

He whispered, speaking directly into your drooling pussy. The tip of his tongue dragged from your winking, contracting muscle and slowly dragged it up. Reaching your throbbing clit, he swirled his tongue around it—teasing it before engulfing it whole. He hummed in satisfaction.

Your back lifted off the table like you were being abducted by aliens. Tears rolled down the side of your face—pooling on the table underneath.

“Guuuhdd m’so close!”

With your warning Eren stood to his feet, knocking the chair over in the process. He tugged at his belt—pushing his cargos far down enough so his dick sprung free. The combined noises of your moans, your soaking wet pussy being devoured, and the fap fap fap of Eren jerking himself were disgusting.

“Mmmmm’cuuuumminn’! Dontstopdontstop!”

Your moans were caught in your throat as the wave of your orgasm hit. Your stomach clutched, pushing out your juices— covering his lower face and neck. Your hands gripped the table for deal life as you found your voice again.

“Gooooodddeeeren!”

The desperate sound of his own name tipped him over.

“A-auhhg shiit- m’nuttin!”

His loud groans, borderline moaning, silenced yours. Warm spurts of his nut painted your sopping pussy. His breathing was sharp—taking a breath before a line of cum shot out. He was slumped over from the intensity of his orgasm—milking himself all over you.

“Fuuuuccckkk!”

You both took a second to catch your breath. Eren’s shoe squeaked from him sliding on the juices beneath him. The plat plat plat sound of him slapping his dick against your pussy caused you to jump over overstimulation. He chuckled, leaning over to give you a kiss.

“I love you princess.”

[growth-opportunities]

We all know Stacy's mom has got it goin' on, but what about Stacy after her second puberty?

It had been weeks now and Stacy still hadn't gotten used to her new size. Her body was still learning that she could no longer sleep on her back and so, as her alarm blared, she did her best to reach out for the snooze button. Every movement, every flail of her arm sent ripples and wobbles through the enormous tits that say heavy on her chest, pinning her in place beneath them. By the time she finally managed to turn off the alarm, she was sweating, heart pounding, chest heaving. The few minutes that the snooze button earned her would pass in frustration and exhaustion but not a wink of sleep. As she caught her breath, she tried to roll onto her side, rocking back and forth to build up enough momentum. She had gotten pretty good at it by now and, as she tried not to let herself get distracted by the massive mounds on her chest, she finally was able to swing her breasts over and-

FWUMP!

The warmth of the bed and the covers was quickly replaced by the cold of the floor beneath Stacy, no longer under her tits bust resting on top of them. Her focus had been on getting out from beneath her breasts, which meant she wasn't thinking about how close the edge of the bed was. Her tits found the edge, though, and dragged her right over it, gravity winning out the floor rising up to meet her. She groaned, flailing her legs in frustration, burying her face in her own cleavage and letting out a scream. Above her head, once more just out of reach, her alarm started again.

Her life wasn't supposed to turn out this way. Her body wasn't supposed to turn out this way. She was just frustrated, that's all. Boys she thought had crushes on her, boys she invited over to her place, turned out to just be interested in her mom. And, if she was honest with herself, Stacy couldn't blame them. Her mother really did have it going on. She had a flawless hourglass figure, breasts big enough to dwarf her head and wide, womanly hips to match. Curiosity got the better of her once when doing the laundry, but knowing that her mother was a 34K did nothing to quell her anger. And puberty had left Stacy a perfectly good body! Her friends were jealous of her! F-cups and a nice ass to go with them. Half the school, guys and girls, ought to have been drooling over her! But she just couldn't compare to her mother's enormous figure and that left her overlooked.

After calming down and buckling in from her morning frustration, Stacy managed to rise up to her feet, nearly losing her balance. Her tank top, mercilessly stretched by her gargantuan bust, had ended up flossed between her tits, one of them bursting out. She adjusted, slipping it back in, though she didn't know why. A deep sigh rattled out of her as she lifted one of her few remaining bras out of her dresser, the cup taking up almost the entire drawer. As she turned it over in her hands, her eyes caught a small tear forming near the front of the band, where the two cups came together. It was a small tear, not even half an inch, but experience had taught her that small tears like that had ways of turning into big tears with a single jump or jostle. She groaned, making a mental note to order a new one before slipping it on anyway. It might be on its last legs, but it was all she had.

From everything she had read online, it was only supposed to give her a little boost. Most women were happy if they managed to get three cup sizes out of the medley of supplements and lotions and that was all Stacy was really looking for. While it would be nice to beat her mother, she just wanted to be able to compete! She was excited at the first cup size she gained. Elated at the second. Content at the third. Concerned at the fourth. Anxious at the fifth. Worried enough at the sixth to finally talk to a doctor. A bevy of tests and three more cup sizes later, she at least had something of an answer. The best guess of the team of doctors that oversaw her case was that her second puberty was either latent or dormant and the cocktail of treatments she had given herself was enough to jump start the process. Having a reason why she was changing so much and so rapidly was reassuring, but less reassuring was the fact that they couldn't tell her when it would stop. Or, for that matter, if it would stop.

The sheer size of her breasts had turned going down the stairs into an athletic challenge. Not only did her breasts bounce every time she dropped down to the next step, nearly brushing against her chin, but they blocked out a huge portion of her view. It came down to grace and balance, keeping herself upright so that she didn't go tumbling downward. The narrow walls on either side of the staircase gave her pause but, at least for now, there was an inch or two of clearance on either side so she wasn't at risk of getting stuck. Yet. She begged her mother to make sure the stairs were clear for her; if there were something sitting on a step, she wouldn't know it was there until she stepped on it and that would almost definitely mean a long, bumpy, bouncy ride down to the bottom. She'd be lucky if her shirt remained intact.

Stacy struggled to adapt to her breasts. Clothing was a constant hassle, buying a new wardrobe only to outgrow it a week later. Her friends' playful teasing turned into faux jealousy which, eventually, turned into real jealousy. Julia, one of her oldest friends, refused to speak to her. She didn't think there was any actual cheating going on, but hearing her boyfriend moan Stacy's name was enough to blame the growing woman for the failing relationship. Even baggy, oversized sweatshirts couldn't hide her gargantuan bust, pulling them tight and a bit of tit spilling out underneath. Just walking down the sidewalk made a scene, people gawking and whispering and, occasionally, outright yelling at her for being obscene. She avoided the produce section at the grocery store entirely, worried that just holding a cucumber would be enough to send some pearl-clutching religious bit into conniptions. The worst part is that they weren't entirely wrong, as their sensitivity had increased almost in proportion to her size. It wasn't uncommon for her to greet the dawn, sweaty and exhausted, still kneading her tits, having lost count of the orgasms around 2am.

As Stacy made her way towards the front door, already bracing herself to go through it at an angle to keep her breast from getting stuck, something in the laundry room caught her eye. She squeezed inside and there, on top of a pile of laundry, was her mother's bra. Her lips broke into a smirk, her first positive expression of the day, as she read the tag: still 34K. Stacy glanced over her shoulder, making sure her mother wasn't anywhere nearby before pressing the bra up to one of her tits. She bit her lip, shuddering as she realized that just one of the cups wasn't quite big enough to cover her areola and the entire bra, band and all, wouldn't reach around one of her tits, let alone both. She set the bra back in its spot and made her way outside, a new spring in her step and a smile on her lips.

For a fleeting moment, Stacy felt that, maybe, all the struggles were worth it.

[v6quewrlds]

GOOD DAYS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀2.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀what gift do you get for a man who has the world at his fingertips? a really, really good day.

author's note⠀⁎⠀fluff to celebrate joey's 28th. warnings⠀⁎⠀crying, mentions of the jake paul mike tyson fight.

In the early morning light, the Cincinnati suburbs were habitually quiet. The calming silence was only broken by the occasional chirp of a bird or the distant sound of a neighbor's lawnmower. Inside Joe's sprawling home, he lay on his stomach in your plush, king-sized bed, his broad shoulders moving up and down in a steady rhythm as he quietly snored.

Your brown skin shuffled against the eggshell white comforter as you tried to slide away without disturbing him. But as soon as you moved, Joe's hand reached for your wrist, dragging you back into his grasp as you shrieked in response. Despite being a heavy sleeper, Joe always had a strange sixth sense that woke him up whenever you attempted to leave his warmth.

“Where do you think you're goin'?” he mumbled groggily, his blue eyes peeking open to find you pouting at him from underneath his arm.

You leaned in and kissed Joe's cheek, your voice soft with morning sweetness, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Joe's sleepy smile grew as he rolled over and pulled you closer, his hands feeling the fabric of your hoodie from your alma mater. “It’s too early for you to be sneakin' away from me. What are you up to?”

You chuckled and kissed him again, your face nestling into the crook of his neck as you whispered, “Just a little something for your birthday.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed playfully as he felt you trying to squirm out of his embrace. He tightened his grip and hummed skeptically, “Is that so?”

“I wanted to pamper you a little bit. Breakfast in bed, maybe?” you offered with a small smile, hoping to distract Joe with morning kisses and the promise of food.

“Mm, or you could stay here? Pamper me where it's warm and comfortable?” Joe's voice was a low rumble as he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly.

You rolled your eyes, picking up on the hidden innuendo in Joe's suggestion, but you were determined to stick to your plan. You shifted your weight, allowing Joe's head to rest on your chest as you ran your fingers through the soft strands of his messy hair. You whispered, “Later, maybe. Right now, I need to know how your knee's doing.”

Joe grunted, his hand reflexively moving to rub his left knee. “It's fine, just a little sore. Nothing too bad,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Your eyes searched his, knowing he was downplaying it. you had watched the game the night before, your heart in your throat every time he took a hit. “Joseph,” you warned, using the name that always made him squirm. “You need to be honest with me about these things. If it's bad, you need to tell me so I can take care of you properly."

Joe sighed, his hand moving from his knee to squeeze your thigh. “It's just a bruise, sweetheart. The trainer said I’ll be good to go in a few days.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced but deciding to let it go for now. You leaned over him to grab the bottle of painkillers and a water bottle from the nightstand. “Take these for now, and I'll get breakfast started. Try to get some sleep, Joey.”

Joe took the offered pills with a grateful smile, watching as you slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. You had insisted on cooking him breakfast yourself, despite his suggestion to order in from your favorite brunch place when he got in from his flight last night.

Joe settled back into the pillows, watching your retreating figure. The aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs began to waft into the bedroom, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Despite the pain in his knee, a sense of comfort washed over him knowing you were there to take care of him.

Meanwhile, you hummed to yourself in the kitchen, juggling pans and plates with an ease that belied the complexity of Joe's breakfast order. You had been planning this for weeks, eager to show your appreciation for his hard work and the sacrifices he made for his dreams. As you flipped the french toast just right, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement for the main surprise you had in store for him.

Once the breakfast was ready, you returned to the bedroom with a tray laden with food. You found Joe propped up against the headboard, his phone in hand as the sound of his parents' voices filled the room. You set the tray down gently on his lap, the aroma of cinnamon and butter floating through the air.

He looked up at you, reaching for you to return to bed, frowning slightly when you simply pressed a kiss to his temple and turned to leave the room again. He didn't dwell on it for too long, turning his attention back to his parents on FaceTime.

You retreated to the bathroom, your thoughts racing with excitement. You had been planning the next part of Joe's birthday surprise since the moment you had decided to put on this low-key, home-based celebration. You turned the tap on the bathtub, pouring in a generous amount of Epsom salts and bubble bath. The water began to froth and steam, filling the air with a calming scent of peppermint.

You knew Joe took his recovery days seriously, especially after a rough game, so you figured a warm bath would be perfect for his knee and aching muscles. You waited for Joe to finish his conversation with his parents, your smile growing wider as you listened to their laughter and shared stories. When the call ended, you poked your head into the room.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you called out, your voice bouncing off the walls with excitement. “Your bath's ready. No complaints.”

Joe groaned but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom with a grin he failed to suppress. You watched him carefully, your eyes tracking the movement of his injured knee. You knew he was in more pain than he let on, but you also knew that Joe was never one to make a fuss. Once Joe was undressed, you turned off the lights, allowing the natural light to flood in before leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Ja'Marr and Sam will be here in about an hour. I've got some errands to run, so just rest up, okay?” You called out as you left the bathroom.

Joe's voice echoed through the space, “You're the boss,” he joked, his smile fading into a grimace as he eased into the hot water. You knew he'd protest if you hovered too much, so you left him to soak while you started to clean up the kitchen.

Your mind raced with the final details of the surprise. The video montage you had been working on for the past two months had to be perfect. You had collected messages from everyone Joe cared about—from members of the Bengals organization to high school friends and family members—a testament to the love and support surrounding him. You hoped it would serve as a reminder that even on his toughest days, he wasn’t alone.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Sam, confirming his arrival. Ja'Marr, on the other hand, was running a few minutes "fashionably" late. You knew Joe would be thrilled to see two of his closest friends, especially on his birthday. You hoped that by inviting them over, they could keep Joe occupied while you set up your home theater for the nearly 30-minute-long video tribute you had painstakingly edited over the course of two months.

Ja'Marr, with his broad smile and infectious laugh, barged through the door a few minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand. “Happy birthday, Joey B!” he bellowed, the sound echoing through the hallways.

You emerged from the kitchen, pulling your hair into a ponytail as you gathered your purse and wallet to head out. “He should be down in a bit. I'm ordering from Jeff Ruby's, you guys want anything?”

As Ja'Marr and Sam took turns typing their orders into your notes, Joe emerged from his bath. He was now dressed in a comfortable pink hoodie and his Seinfeld sweats, thundering down the stairs, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw his friends. You noted the slight limp in his step but pushed aside your concern as he greeted them with enthusiastic handshakes and daps. You knew he was in good spirits, which was all that mattered for today.

“We still watching the fight?” Sam asked as you grabbed your keys from the counter.

Joe nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the Jake Paul v. Tyson fight they’d been dying to watch together. You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips, shaking your head in amusement. The fight had taken place nearly a month ago, but they had agreed to watch it again in greater detail as if there was much to miss the first time. But, you knew better than to stick around for the rewatch, knowing they'd be arguing over every jab, pausing and rewinding to analyze every hit.

“Alright, I'll be back in a few. You three behave yourselves,” you warned playfully, pointing a finger at them. “Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

Ja'Marr held up his hands in mock surrender, “I don't know what you're talkin' about, we're the perfect angels.”

you ignored him, simply calling out, “Sam, I'm trusting you.”

When you returned with the food, you found Joe and his friends engrossed in the fight, shouting at the TV as if they were ringside. You couldn't help but laugh at their passionate commentary and insistence they knew better than the professional boxers.

You quietly slipped upstairs to set up the final part of Joe’s birthday surprise. The video montage was ready to play on your home theater, and you had the room set with your favorite snacks and drinks, the ambiance perfect for a heartfelt moment. The anticipation grew as you thought about his reaction—how his face would light up when he saw the messages from his loved ones.

As you finished putting every thing in place, you heard Joe send Sam and Ja'Marr on their way, the fight having wrapped about an hour ago. You could feel your heart racing as you descended the stairs. Joe was waiting for you in the living room, his head bowed as he read through his texts, probably catching up on missed messages from his friends and family.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you approached him.

Joe looked up, his expression unreadable. “Just some birthday messages,” he said, his thumb scrolling through his phone. “Everyone's asking about my knee.”

Your eyes softened as you took in the weight of his words. He was always so private about his injuries, not wanting to be a burden on anyone. You knew he was trying to be strong, but you also knew that he needed this day to be about him, not football. You took a deep breath and announced, “You can respond tomorrow. I have one more surprise for you.”

Joe's curiosity piqued, and he followed you into the home theater, the room dimly lit and cozy as he took a seat. He glanced over his shoulder to see you approaching with a tiny, ridiculous party hat in hand.

“No.” Joe said firmly, eyeing the party hat with a disapproving squint.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “C’mon, it’s your birthday, you have to wear it!”

With a dramatic sigh, Joe allowed you to place the hat on his head, the elastic band snapping around his chin as you stepped back to admire your accessorizing touch. The hat was a neon pink monstrosity with a plume of feathers sticking out of the top. You giggled uncontrollably, pulling out a duplicate hat to put on yourself. The sight of the two of you with these absurd party hats brought a warmth to the room that Joe hadn’t felt in weeks. Joe couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Alright, alright, now that we're both looking like complete idiots, can we get on with this?” Joe teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he picked up the TV remote.

You grinned, taking a seat beside him. “Yes, sir, Mr. Grumpy Pants. But before we do, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you and how much everyone else does too.”

You took the remote from Joe and hit play on the video you had queued up. The screen flickered to life with a montage of photos and videos from Joe's life—his childhood, college days, and moments from his career. The first message was from Joe’s high school coach, who spoke about Joe’s unwavering dedication and talent on the field.

Joe's eyes grew misty as he watched, his chest swelling with pride and love. Each message brought a new face into your private sanctuary, sharing stories and well wishes. His parents talked about the first time they held him in their arms, and his brothers reminisced about the fierceness they recognized in his eyes from such a young age. His teammates praised his leadership and friendship, sharing inside jokes that made Joe's laugh echo through the room. You had managed to capture every aspect of his life, every person who had shaped him into the man he was today.

The video went on, each message more heartfelt than the last. You watched Joe's reaction, your heart swelling with joy at the sight of his tear-filled eyes and the occasional sniffle he tried to hide. When the video reached its final moments, you took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The screen filled with a picture of the two of you from your first date, both smiling awkwardly but eyes hopeful.

Your face appeared last on the screen, your eyes shining with love as you recorded your message.

“Happy Birthday, Joe. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life, for making me laugh, and for being the most dedicated, disciplined person I know. There's no one on Earth who deserves this love and appreciation more than you do. You inspire me every single day, and I am so proud of you. Everything you've accomplished in only 28 years is nothing short of incredible. And even though we all know you’re going to do so much more, we'll still celebrate all the wins, even the small ones. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I'm here for every hit, every victory, and every moment in between. Happy birthday, my love.”

Joe looked over at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned over, pulling you into a tight embrace, whispering into your ear, “Thank you for this. I had no idea you were going through this much trouble putting this together.”

You leaned into him, your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his heart pound against your chest. You whispered back, “It's nothing compared to what you do every day, Joe. You give everything for the people you love, and I just wanted to make sure you knew how much you're loved and cherished in return.”

You sat there, holding each other, as the final message from the video played out—a group of guys from his high school football team shouting “Happy Birthday, Joe!” in unison, their faces a blur of happiness. The screen went black, and the room grew quiet except for the soft background music that you had chosen for the end credits.

Joe pulled away, swiping at his eyes, trying to compose himself. You handed him a box of tissues from the side table, your own eyes misty with happy tears. “Was it okay? Did you like it?” you asked, your voice gentle.

“It's perfect, babe. Thank you,” Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. He took a tissue and dabbed at his eyes, trying to regain his composure. You sat next to him, your hand on the back of his neck, gently rubbing circles. You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the video’s messages lingering in the air.

Then, as if on cue, Joe’s stomach rumbled, and you both burst into laughter. It was a welcome relief from the emotional intensity of the video. You picked up the remote and paused the video, standing up. “I got your favorite from Jeff Ruby's. It's all ready for you in the dining room.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Joe murmured, following you out of the theater, the party hat still atop his head, taking your hand in his as you made their way back to the dining room.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “You’re worth every second of it and more.” Joe leaned down, kissing you softly on the forehead before allowing you to lead him to the dining room.

[nezuscribe]

(nsfw, 18+)

toji stared at you, green eyes set it a deep glare as he gnawed on his lip. he was used to knowing things, he actually kind of prided himself in the fact that he was always three steps ahead of usually anybody. 

but today, he wasn’t. today he had somehow stumbled, and staring at the back of your head, was trying to figure out what went wrong. 

you had only spared him a glance when he walked in, unlike your usual bouncy self, greeting him with a kiss as your arms snaked around his shoulder, lips tugging upward into a radiant smile as he felt the stress of the day melt off his body. 

today, none of that happened. 

he walked in, staring at the way you were bundled up in a blanket, watching your favorite show as you pretend he didn’t exist (he knew he took up a lot of space, so he knew that you were bluffing on that part). you didn’t say anything, radio silent as the show hummed along in the background. 

“hey sweetheart,” he called out, waiting for you to turn around, “how’s you’re day been goin’?”

he set his bag down, running a hand through his tousled hair as he looked over the city, (he liked it this way, it normally calmed him down), but without your boisterous voice filling the space of the penthouse he quickly realized just how dull it was. 

“hungry?” he asked as he began to shed off his coat by the door, setting his briefcase down gently as though not the make a sound. 

obviously it didn’t do much because you didn’t answer him, still watching your show. 

“was thinkin’ about ordering some takeout,” he grumbled, now just saying anything to get a response from you, “how does that sound?” 

still, nothing.

he sighed, glancing at you and then to the hall, moving alongside furniture, the room almost becoming a maze as though to stop hm from reaching you, not letting his mind run until he was able to get a full understanding of the situation. 

he maneuvered around the large couch, your eyes never faltering to acknowledge his presence as he moved in closer to you, towering above you as he placed a hand on the cushion behind your head, the other on his hip as he cocked a brow. 

“did i miss something?” 

you swallowed, not trying to give any emotion away as you sat still, almost like a statue, a part of you hoping he’d move on after a couple seconds of trying. 

but he didn’t, he was persistent like that. 

he sank down to his knees, a sight a part of you would always swoon at despite your obvious annoyance towards him, and jutted your chin out, lips slightly pouting despite his large hands running up and down your legs, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he tried to figure you out. 

“is this about what happened with that assistant?” 

with the way your breathing hitched ever so slightly, he assumed he guessed right. 

“sweetheart,” he started, his hands moving up to your knees but you roughly moved your legs away, curling them up into the sofa as you still refused to look at him, “you know she’s trying to make you feel like this. fired her right after you left baby. ” his voice had dropped lower, seriousness flooding his tone so that you know he’s not joking around anymore.

a part of you gleamed at his words, happy to have the bitch gone. and you know he’s right, know that the pesky assistant that kept calling him her work-husband was only trying to get a reaction out of you. but now she did and you were petty and couldn’t find it in you to care.

“c’mon sweetheart, no need to be jealous,” he pushed, his hands finding their way back on your legs as his green eye glimmered with a sort of mischievous light, “know you’re the only one for me.” 

his fingers danced on your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he was determined to get something out of you. he decided that he didn’t seem to mind all that much if it weren’t words. 

his slender fingers tugged at the hem of your sleep short, and a part of you wanted to squeeze your legs together and leave, but you couldn’t, just pushing your head deeper into the cushion behind you as you pretended his movements weren’t sending heat straight to your core. 

you didn’t even fight him as he pulled the shorts all the way down, his breathing hitching in his throat when he realized you weren’t even wearing pantie, greeted with the sight of you bare pussy as he grinned slyly. 

“did you want me to resort to this, hm?” he asked, nudging your legs to open with his head, grinning when you huffed, your tits rising in your tank top as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“fuck sweetheart,” he nudged a finger closer to your cunt, groaning at just how wet you were, “this turning you on?” 

yes, it was, you wanted to say and admit it, but not yet. not now. 

his pushed his finger in deeper, reaching that part in you that you never could, hooking it in the way you liked as his thumb found your clit, applying pressure as he swirled it around in an eight pattern, watching with his devil as your head turned to the other side, lips pressed in a thin line as your eyes welded shut. 

“my pretty girl should know by now that only i fuck her like this, right? that i can’t have anybody after i’ve had her?” and it wasn’t a question because you already knew the answer, but he relented, shoving in another angry finger as they easily slid in and out of you. 

your pretty lips fell open as you whined, your nails gripping his hair as you pulled him closer to your cunt, and though he was a bit annoyed at the fact that you still hadn’t made a sound, he knew just what to do. 

he moved his fingers away from your pussy, a smirk growing on his ace when he heard you whine, but instantly replaced them with his mouth, beginning to eat you out as if you were a meal he’s been craving forever. 

he ate you like a man starved, his tongue licking and sucking at your clit, pumping in and out of you in way his fingers never could. he knew your cunt better than you did, and if he wanted you to come in under three minutes he was going to have his way.

the sounds that bounced off the high walls were so sinful that you felt heat crawl up your neck and to your checks, sweat dotting your forehead as you grasped onto his hair as if your life depended on it.

“mmmm, ‘s too much, toji!” you moaned, your pretty lips falling into an o shape as toji looked up from your pussy, the scar on his lip rising as he smiled.

“my baby found her words?” and before you could nod he went back in, sucking at you clot as you moaned out pathetically again.

on any other day you might have tried to at least hold out for a little bit, but you’ve been missing him since this afternoon, horny and needy for him, that you couldn’t stop your toes from curling, your stomach from clenching as you felt your release creeping up on you. 

“come on baby, i know you’re close, let go for me.” he ordered, gripping your thigh so hard you knew he was gonna leave bruises in his wake.

“toji, toji, fuck, i’m...!” you whined out loud, throwing your head back as your muscles clenched down, your pussy spasming around nothing as he pulled away, feeling your essence coating his tongue and his chin as you came, your hands grasping his hair, his shoulders, the cushions, anything you could find. 

your chest heaved as you struggled to calm down, peeking at him from the corner of you eye in an embarrassed way as he only chuckled, slapping your thigh gently as he stood up.

“hi baby,” he greeted, grasping your chin between his two fingers.

“hi toji,” you muttered weakly and he smiled, missing your voice so much that he never realized how much he needed to hear it. 

“feel like talking now?” he asked and you meekly nodded, letting him slip a finger into your mouth as you sucked around it, not feeling that pettiness you were feeling only minutes ago. 

“good, ‘cause i need to hear you scream tonight.” 

you could be bratty when you wanted to be, but toji knew just the counter measures against it.

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 — y’all have had it too good for too long. Time to suffer again.

Content warning for angst, nightmares, and non-descriptive panic attack

You’re bleeding.

Can’t tell who shot you, only that it’s hard to breathe. Your chest is a bloody, mangled mess, your entire front painted crimson. A puddle expanding around your boots.

Your head feels leaden as you drag it up, searching for help, searching for —

There they are. The 141. SpecGru. All of them, standing just out of reach. They could help, they could save you. But they’re not, they’re just standing, watching. Could be statues if not for the sneer that twists Soap and Nova’s face when you make desperate eye contact.

Your captain takes a single step forward, crouching as you fall to your knees.

“You’re just not a good fit, anymore,” he explains, shrugging. “Nothing personal, kid.”

“Baby. Baby!”

Keegan’s face is above you, jaw dusted with dark stubble. He’s wide awake, eyes huge and worried, showing you both his hands. His mask is gone, hair tussled.

Bed. You’re in bed. You fell asleep with him tonight.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers.

“K-Keegan…” The shivers start almost instantly, like you really were bled out. Before he can ask, you reach for him. Let him bundle you against his chest, arms tight around you, and legs bent up on either side of you. A cage of safety around you, keeping you safe and close.

“I’m here, sweets. Right here,” he murmurs into your hair. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

You sniffle, press your face against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat. Too fast; because he’s worried about you.

“Which one?” he asks.

You shudder. “A new one.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. Drops a kiss on your head. “Just me, or do you need someone else?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as the tears start flowing, guilt gnawing at your tight stomach.

“C-can I see the captain?” You ask. “I-I’m sorry, Kee. I just…”

He shushes you. “That’s why I asked, baby. It’s okay. Nothing to feel bad for.”

He doesn’t even give you the option of walking. Just tucks you into one of his sweatshirts — sandalwood and vetiver — and scoops you up. You tuck your face against his neck against the hall lights as he walks with you.

“Dreams again,” he says to someone — Nikto, probably.

Three sharp knocks. A single beat. Then a door opens. You peek out, relieved to see your captain standing there.

“Hi babygirl,” he rumbles, “bad night?”

Keegan hands you over with practiced ease, your captain letting you loops your arms and legs around him. His skin feels almost burning, warm enough to drive out the lingering chill. He smells good too. Like sleep and home.

“Y-you still… you still want me right?” You whisper, eyes stinging.

“Always,” he answers instantly. “My girl, my soldier, mine. Just like Keegan and Nikto and Nova.”

You cling tighter, but he just hums and smooths his hands over your back.

“Keegan, get Nova and an extra mattress,” he orders.

“On it.”

The captain carries you in, a shadow from the corner of your eye telling you Nikto is still there. You’re set on the bed in a spot still warm; it dips as another body settles with you. Nikto again. Mask on as always, but dressed down for sleep. He’s even got his gloves off and lets you play gently with his fingers while your captain turns on a light and fetches you a glass of water.

“Still with you,” Nikto murmurs.

You sniffle and wipe hurriedly at your eyes, trying to preserve what little dignity you’ve got left.

“None of that now, baby,” your captain soothes, tilting a glass to your mouth. “Cry if you need. Get it out.”

The tears some slow and quiet, only little sobs escaping as Nikto’s arms curl around you. Keegan appears at the door soon after, Nova helping him drag a mattress into the captain’s quarters. She comes to your other side while Keegan and the captain start arranging the other bed.

Soon, they switch you over, drag the first mattress onto the floor as well. After that, arrangements are familiar and automatic. The captain takes one side, fits your back against his chest. Keegan takes your other side, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. Nikto nestles up behind him - needs the access of the end of the bed. And Nova distributes herself on top of you and Keegan, a gentle warm weight soothing you.

“Sleep if you can, babygirl,” your captain murmurs in your ear. His thumb sweeps gentle arcs over your hipbone. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

—

The nightmares were the worst when you first joined SpecGru. The first six months. You’d wake up in a cold sweat, apologies to an empty room on your tongue.

Nikto would find you out on the obstacle course at all hours of the night, in all kinds of weather. Running and jumping and climbing without so much as penlight. Pushing and pushing until you were panting on bloody hands and knees, driven by the single-minded need to be better, to be worth it.

When he found out, your captain put a ban on you from running the course unless he himself was present the entire time. You were pissed at first — even went so far as to bitch him out one day, exhausted and strung out on stress.

And he’d let you. Just sat behind his desk listening. Unimpressed, but not pissed, either. When you’d finally run out of steam, he’d stood.

“Still mad?”

When you nodded, he nodded towards the door.

“C’mon, we’ll go for a spar,” he explained when you gave him a distrustful look. “And then you’re going down for a nap.”

You frowned, shifted. “What about…?”

He snorts. “All that a minute ago?”

When you nodded, he shrugged. “Nothing, unless you feel like you need a bit of discipline to keep it together.”

You’d wrinkled your nose. “Definitely feel like socking you now.”

He’d smirked. “Good.”

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Masterlist

[holdmytesseract]

Mercy

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: It's time for the archer to let go of the past and focus on the future. It's time to start over. But... Can Daryl show mercy upon his enemy? Can your words help him do what's right?

Warnings: TWD stuff? mentions of the Savior war, injury (being shot), pain meds, fluff, mentions of murder, mentions of babies (you know me, i can't resist)

Set in Season 8!

Word Count: 1,7k

a/n: This is inspired by one of Rick's famous quotes - which I also borrowed for this story. 🤗

Disclaimer: That quote isn't mine.

Personally, I love this lil' story. Might be one of my favs...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Y/N? I'll be goin, 'kay?" You saw Daryl coming to stand in the dooframe of the medical trailer. You sat up in bed; giving him a nod. "You're gonna... take care of Dwight?" The archer nodded while biting down on his lower lip. "Yeah..." He paused. "Yer gon' be okay while 'm gone, sunshine?" Your partner referred to the injury you suffered earlier that day. Even though Eugene had manipulated the bullets, a Savior had managed to shot your leg nevertheless.

"Sure. Don't worry about me - or my leg. It's gonna be okay." The man gave you another nod, "A'right. Keep restin'. Dun want to see yer pretty ass walkin' 'round the Hilltop when I return." and turned to walk away.

But you stopped him.

"Daryl."

He froze in his movements and turned to face you once more. His blue eyes landed on yours; view slightly impaired by a few loose brown curls which hung in his face. You held his gaze for a few moments, before you started to move and shift your body, in order to stand up. It caused the archer's eyes to widen. "Whatcha doin'? Y/N, don't. Doc said ya should stay in bed. Ya dun have to-" Daryl cut off his own sentence with a sigh, seeing that his efforts weren't able to stop you. Instead, he stepped inside the trailer and quickly reached for you when he witnessed you limping towards him.

"Damnit, woman. Why 'r ya so stubborn?" He grunted as he wrapped his strong arms around your middle; keeping you steady and preventing you from falling. You just smiled up at the taller man. "Learned from the best, you know..." Daryl scoffed.

A moment of silence passed between the both of you, in which you chose your next words wisely. "Daryl..." You started again, and placed both palms on his chest. "I know you want to kill Dwight. I wanted to kill him too. So did Tara. And he deserves it. He does. For what he did to her. To you. To me..." You swallowed and quickly shoved the horrible memories threatening to knock against the door to the forefront of your brain aside.

You took a deep breath and looked into your boyfriend's eyes again; thumbs rubbing circles into his soft pecks. "But we have to be better than that, Dar... We gotta - and you know it. This won't make us feel better. Killing him won't bring Denise back or..." You had to swallow again. "Or undo the things he did to you. Giving him a chance is right."

Daryl just looked at you; watching you fight against the tears which desperately wanted to spill from your eyes. "It's not easy, I-I know, but... It's over. I-It's the past and... now it's all about our future. What's after - like Rick said. I don't want you to start over with a kill. Start over with me."

The archer listened patiently to every word you said - but only kept looking at you. No word left his lips, but you could see the gears violently turning in his head. So, you decided to give him a few moments to sort his thoughts and process what you had just said.

Your thumbs kept rubbing circles into his clothed skin, but when you noticed a single tear escaped the corner of his eye, you quickly lifted your hand to gently wipe it away. You had a guess where his mind had taken him - and your heart ached for him... Nevertheless was your point still standing. Killing Dwight wasn't the solution.

"Dar..." You softly called out his name; grabbing his attention and taking him out of his most likely dark thoughts. "My mercy prevails over my wrath," you whispered with your hand still on his cheek. Ignoring the roaring pain in your leg, you stood on your tiptoes to at least reach his chin and place a soft kiss there; feeling his beard tickling your lips.

Another beat of silence passed, before Daryl cleared his throat. "I'll better go now. Wanna be back 'fore it gets dark." You nodded; still with that smile on your face. "You'll do the right thing." Daryl chewed once more on the inside of his lip, then leaned down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead. "I'll try," was all the archer said, before he turned on his heels and walked out of the trailer. Your eyes followed him; hoping that your words were able to reach him.

Daryl's gaze softened again - your mission successful. He looked at you for another long moment, before he took a deep breath. Bending his knees, he slid one arm carefully under your knees, while the other stayed around the small of your back. Before you could even say something, he had carefully - not to hurt your already injured leg - swept you off your feet and was carrying you bridal style back to the bed, where he gently lowered you again.

"I could've walked, you know..." "Nah. Ya already walked enough for today. Gotta give that leg rest 'n time to heal." You subtly rolled your eyes but also couldn't suppress the smile which tugged at the corners of your mouth.

The pain meds Siddiq had given you were strong enough to knock you out for quite a few hours. It was pitch black outside, when you reopened your eyes again. It was dark in the infirmary as well, except for the soft glow of a few candles.

It took you a hot minute to realise that you weren't alone... Daryl was seated on a chair beside your bed; your hand neatly tucked in his. Slowly - with your brain still a bit sleepy and woozy, you turned your head to face the archer. "You're back..." You stated in a low voice. The man grunted in response. "Told ya I'd be back 'fore sunset. I found yer sleepin' when I returned, though. Thought I let ya sleep, knowin' ya need the rest." You nodded, and gently squeezed his hand. "How long was I out?" "Dunno, sunshine. Few hours." You gave your partner another nod and gazed up into his face; handsome features softly illuminated by the dim light.

"How's yer leg doin'?" Daryl asked you then; voice tinged with concern. You tried to move your leg - and hissed slightly. "Painful. Bit better thanks to the painkillers, but yeah... Being shot sucks." He nodded. A compassionate expression took over his face. "Yeah, I know." Of course, he knew. He's been shot before... Multiple times by now. "But you'll get through this. Yer strong," Daryl assured you and brought your joined hands up to his lips in order to press a featherlight kiss against your knuckles. You smiled.

Another beat of silence passed, in which Daryl didn't say a single word - not even move a muscle; his expression neutral.

A long moment of pleasant silence passed between the both of you, in which you bit your lip; unable to push that one obtrusive thought aside in your head. You had to know - had to ask.

"Babe...?" You called out quietly. His eyes instantly snapped up to meet yours. He hummed in response. "Did you..." You swallowed. "You know... kill Dwight?"

But then he slowly started to smile, "Nah." and shook his head. "Didn't kill 'im." Your partner's words made you smile as well. He had listened. He had chosen what was right. "Really?" Daryl leaned in closer to you. "My mercy prevails over my wrath," he whispered; quoting you. Your smile even widened while you lifted your free hand to cup his cheek. Daryl turned his head to press a kiss against the soft, delicate skin of your palm. "I'm proud of you, Dar. You made the right decision." He nodded; shortly biting the inside of his lip. "Send 'im away. Gave 'im the car keys 'n told him to go." Told 'im to find 'er," he added whispering. "Sherry?" Another nod. You smiled again; thumb gently caressing the apple of his cheek. "Love persuaded you then, huh?" He scoffed, but smiled. His cheeks and the tips of his ears turned red. "If ya wanna call it tha'..." "Mhm, think I do." Still smiling, you sat up slightly - just enough to press a tender, lingering kiss on his mouth. The archer's eyes fluttered shut; lips locked with yours.

You could've sworn that your heart skipped more than just one beat; your stomach doing that funny flip thingy.

Retreating from the kiss, you laid back down in bed; the hurt muscle in your leg protesting. Your hand left his cheek again and came to rest on the mattress instead, while your other hand was still snugly wrapped up in now both Daryl's big palms.

"You gonna stay all night, Dar?" The man sitting beside you nodded. "'Course I do. Where else should I be?" You started to smile again, but rolled your eyes. "In your bed, Dar. You need to sleep. It's been a long, tiring and nerve-wracking day..." Daryl just looked at you for a long moment, before he shook his head. "Nah..." You raised an eyebrow. "I jus' need one thing in this life, 'n tha's you, sweet girl," he said in that low, gruff voice you came to love so much.

"Oh, Dar..." You had to fight the tears. "I love you. I love you more than words can say." Daryl smiled and lifted your joined hands to press once more a gentle kiss against your fingers. The look of pure, raw love in his eyes spoke enough. Daryl didn't need words to express what he felt. How deeply he felt.

"Sleep now, sunshine. 'N when tha' leg's all healed again, we're gonna start to work on the future... What's after..." You smiled; curiosity piqued. "And what's after? For you? For us?" The archer shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno..." A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "... but, I thought we, uh, could start workin' on tha' baby we decided to have... 'N buildin' up our home again, of course." Your heart skipped another beat; smile even widening. "Sounds perfect to me, babe."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @mikaela-granger @sweetz1919 @secretsicanthideanymore @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @dilfdixon @dixonsdarkelf @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep

[grayandthyme]

thinking about THIS trend with tommy... im feral. chewing on the bars of my enclosure, barking like sgojesgsoigseubesg

warnings: making out, hand on throat, reader is a lil tipsy, he's a bit tense here. early jackson!tommy & reader. def rough tommy.

It was late. Stupid late. Probably close to two in the damn morning, and the lights of the Tipsy Bison spun like a carousel in your wine-blurred vision—smeared and too warm, like someone had dragged their fingers through the paint. Your skin was hot, slick with a cold sweat that clung to your shirt in patches.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not really. But when he didn’t come home—again—your hands shook too much to sit still. Hours ticked by.

Patrols were supposed to end at midnight, and Tommy had this habit of walking in like nothing happened, blood on his knuckles, exhaustion in his eyes, no word of where he’d been or why.

So you left.

Shoulders brushing against a few of the girls from the garden. They didn’t ask questions. Just poured you something dark and sweet, and kept your mind off the sharp ache that settled right behind your ribs.

One glass of wine.

Then another.

Someone ordered shots—maybe for a birthday, maybe just because the Tipsy Bison was that kind of place. Before you knew it, the edges of the world had softened, gone a little fuzzy.

But the ache didn’t leave.

Because the something you were drinking to forget?

Was him.

You didn’t even notice the door creak open.

Didn’t see the shadow step through the haze of bar lights until a hand brushed your elbow, and a voice—his voice—cut through the noise.

"That what we're doin’ now?" Tommy’s voice was low and rough, like gravel under boots. "Goin' out, gettin' shitfaced while I’m draggin’ my ass through the snow lookin’ for ya?"

Your head turned too fast. Vision tilted. But there he was—leaning against the doorframe like he hadn’t just spent the entire day silent, outside the walls of Jackson. Jacket wrinkled, hair messy like he’d been through hell… or just didn’t care enough to fix it.

"You weren’t home,” he added, quieter now. Jaw tight. That vein in his neck ticking.

“You weren’t home,” you shot back, too tired to sound furious, too raw not to be. “You were out for ten hours, Tommy. No one knew where the hell you were. Not even Maria.”

His brows twitched, and he swallowed something down—guilt, maybe. That quiet, heavy kind.

“You think I was just out messin’ around?” he muttered, stepping closer. “I was working, alright? It got messy.”

“I don’t care if it got messy,” you slurred, voice catching. “I care that you didn’t send someone. I thought—” You broke off, hands trembling now. “I thought you were dead.”

He stilled. Eyes softening in a way that made your throat hurt.

“You don’t get to show up mad at me,” you added, blinking hard. “I came here because I couldn’t sit in that house one more second, wondering if I’d have to go ID your body in the morning.”

Tommy looked like he’d been shot clean through the chest. A sharp exhale left him, his face falling from anger into something hollow. Heavy.

“You got no fuckin’ clue how much I worry about you, do you?” he muttered, stepping in until the space between you barely existed. “But I—I ain’t ever wanted you to feel that way about me.”

You swallowed, fists clenched.

“You say that, but you disappear like your life doesn’t belong to anyone,” you whispered. “Like I don’t have to sit with the silence you leave behind.”

He blinked. And that was the thing about Tommy Miller. He didn’t bleed in words. He bled in silence, though, less like his Brother. In furrowed brows and long stares, and that twitch of his hand that meant he wanted to touch you but didn’t know how to start.

“You drunk off your ass or just hurtin’?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You didn’t answer.

Tommy sighed and reached for your coat. His hands were steady, even if his mouth was tight.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, helping you to your feet. “Let’s get you home.”

And somehow, despite everything, his touch still felt like safety.

The snow was falling in wet, heavy sheets, the kind that soaked through boots and bit at your fingertips. Streetlights and strung lights cast long, broken shadows through the drifts. You barely felt the cold—too full of cheap wine, too pissed to care.

Tommy walked beside you in silence, boots crunching in rhythm. His jaw was set, hands buried in his jacket pockets, eyes forward like he wasn’t walking with you at all.

And that? That was enough to piss you off all over again. The alcohol definitely helped speed this process up, though.

“You gonna pretend nothin’ happened?” you snapped, words slurred but sharp. “That you didn’t just disappear for half the goddamn day?”

He didn’t answer. Not even a twitch in his expression.

Like you were noise. Like you didn’t deserve the breath.

You stepped in front of him, stumbling slightly, hands shoving at his chest—not hard, but enough.

“Say something. You vanish for hours, come back smelling like iron and dirt, and expect me to just sit there? What the hell were you even doing out there, huh?”

Tommy’s chest rose slowly under your palms, eyes dark as thunderclouds. Still no answer.

So you pushed him again. Harder.

“What, couldn’t even radio in? Couldn’t let anyone know you were still breathing?” Your voice cracked, full of anger that felt too close to grief. “Or do you just like makin’ me worry like an idiot?”

He grabbed your wrist. Not to hurt. Just to stop the next hit. His grip was tight, but it was the look in his eyes that made your stomach drop—like you’d reached into something raw.

“You think I like being out there?” he said, voice low and trembling—not from the cold. “You think I wanted to be gone that long?”

You yanked your arm free, shoving him again, square in the chest.

“I think you don’t give a shit what it does to me.”

And that was it.

His hand was at your throat. Fast. Controlled. Like instinct, not malice. Fingers firm but not cruel, palm warm where it pressed just under your jaw. It startled you still.

His face was close, breath warm in the frozen air, his expression cracked wide open—anger, panic, something too soft to name hiding behind his lashes.

“You don’t get to say that,” he growled. “You don’t get to say I don’t care.”

Your chest was heaving, eyes locked. You could feel your heartbeat fluttering under his hand like a warning.

“Tommy—” you started, “Let go,” you whispered, though your hands curled in the front of his coat

He didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you.

Rough. Clumsy. Desperate. Like he’d been holding it back for weeks and you’d finally ripped the lock off.

No buildup. No permission. Just need.

It was all teeth and bitter cold, mouths clashing like a fight neither of you had the words to finish. His other hand found your hip, dragging you closer like he needed proof you were real. Snow hit your cheeks and melted between your skin. The world narrowed to the taste of him—smoke, salt, and bitter heat. You kissed him back like it was a punishment.

It wasn’t soft—it was survival. It was everything you’d both swallowed for too long.

You made a sound, something close to a whine, and his hand eased against your neck, fingers brushing your jaw instead. Gentler now, like the storm in him had shifted—but hadn’t passed.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathing hard, the night had gone silent. The wind died down. Your lips were swollen, your throat burned, but your chest felt lighter.

“I don’t know how to do this right,” he said quietly. “But don’t you ever say I don’t care. ‘Cause I do, more than I fuckin’ should.”

You stood there, still trembling, still aching.

And you believed him.

masterlist

authors note: ignore how boring this is.. wrote it in 30 mins

[mattslilies]

Reflection - M.S.

"no, baby, that's not true." or... the one where you begin to hate what you see in the mirror each morning, and despite trying to hide it from matt, he makes it his mission to comfort and reassure you. warnings: insecurity, mentions of weight, social stigma. word count: 942 a/n: requested by anon! dividers from @kodaswrld! disclaimer: beauty standards are not real!!!! you are all gorgeous <3

you told matt absolutely everything. well, almost. you hadn't told him this.

you didn't know what had changed. it was like someone was slowly turning a dial, one that caused self-hatred to flow into your brain like water. progressively, every time you looked into the mirror, you found flaw after flaw after flaw.

your nose wasn't the right shape, or your eyes were too uneven, or your stomach showed just a little bit too much in the outfit you were wearing. you weren't tall enough, your ribcage too wide, or something completely out of left field. you always managed to find something that was wrong.

logically, you knew that this wasn't rational. there hadn't been anything specific that had triggered it, but the online discourse surrounding your relationship with matt definitely did not help at all. it only furthered your belief that there were things about you that needed to change, in order to be considered worthy of being his girlfriend.

you knew he would discourage that idea,. you knew he would sit and list all the reasons why you were wrong to think that, how it didn't matter what anyone said online. and that was the exact reason you hadn't told him, because you always felt like a burden expecting him to take time out of his day to comfort you.

you'd been independent for a long time before meeting matt, and even after you two were official, you stayed that way. you would never use him for his money, although it was nice not having to worry about bills anymore. but you still had the deep rooted urge to do everything by yourself, and if it was gonna get done right, you had to do it.

though matt appreciated your independence, he also gently encouraged you to allow yourself to depend on him sometimes, instead of always arguing over paying for yourself. he often knew that was an argument he wouldn't win, so he made up for it with spontaneous gifts that you couldn't possibly refuse to take from him.

you stood in front of the mirror, picking apart every piece of your body, so deep into your own mind that you didn't hear the front door opening. nor did you hear him walking into the bedroom. as he saw the bathroom light on and your shadow encompassing the floor, he walked towards it, face etched full of concern when he processed the sight.

you had a look of disgust on your face, looking down at yourself. your eyes were red-rimmed, from the long minutes of crying you'd spent today. he stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder, accidentally startling you as you jumped. you quickly wiped your eyes, shoving him backwards slightly.

"matt! you can't sneak up on people like that!"

he threw his hands up in surrender, apologies leaving his mouth.

"i'm sorry, baby, i didn't mean to scare you. are you okay?"

you nodded, quickly. too quickly.

"yeah, i'm fine."

you walked past him, going straight back into the bedroom and changing into a loose hoodie that encapsulated your frame.

it was almost like you didn't want him to see you.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, opening his arms.

"something's up, baby, i know you too well. cmere."

he was right, after over a year of dating, matt knew very well when something was wrong. you sighed, not wanting to talk about it but desperately wanting a comforting hug, so you sat down next to him. he wrapped his arms around you, letting you lean against his side.

"what's goin' on, sweetheart?"

you shrugged, not feeling like responding. he waited for a few minutes before speaking again.

"you had a look on your face, baby. like you were grossed out or somethin'."

he felt wet droplets hit his bare arm and his shirt, and he immediately tilted your head up, his heart breaking when he saw your tears flowing. he had a feeling he knew what was going on, but he had never wanted to be right.

"hey. who said something about you? i'll handle it, you know that."

you shook your head, sniffling and wiping away the water pouring down your face.

"it's not that, i just-"

you sighed. he didn't speak, knowing you weren't finished with what you wanted to say.

"i just don't like what i see in my reflection anymore."

matt tightened his arms around you, as if should he squeeze hard enough, all of your insecurities would flood out like a sponge.

"i feel like every time i see myself, there's something new that's wrong, or doesn't look right, or some new flaw."

matt shook his head, insistently.

"no, baby, that's not true."

you knew he would immediately rush to comfort you, and the tears only poured faster.

"there's nothing about you that's wrong. every part of you is perfect. i think you're absolutely beautiful, and anyone who says different is wrong, even when that includes yourself."

his tone was soft, but his words hit deep.

"i just wish i could see what you see in me."

he sighed, but not one of annoyance, one of deep thought, concern, and sadness.

"and you will. you don't ever have to deal with this stuff alone, sweetheart. i'm here. we're going to work on it, okay? whatever you need."

you couldn't stifle the tears, full blown sobs leaving you, yet comfort radiated over your entire body.

"it's okay, baby. cry it out. you're going to be alright. i love you, pretty girl."

you couldn't make out the words, so instead squeezed his body.

he knew you loved him too.

[squinch-depraved]

Thinking of Schlatt and mutual masturbation/phone sex. Thinking about him just moaning into your ear from the other side of receiver and talking you through it while also getting off 💕💕💕

i like this. short but sweet hopefully :3

"'s okay if you don't wanna doll," schlatt's voice rang through the speaker pressed to your ear. "i've got plenty of pictures of you i can use."

you shook your head, forgetting he couldn't see you, and jumped onto your bed. "nono, i wanna!" you assured him as you got comfy. "it's just new, that's all."

he didn't speak, leaving you to babble on. "i'm down for- for whatever you want, i promise. i just don't know what it is you want from me yet," you rambled.

"touch yourself, doll," he ordered you simply, voice gravelly. he waited for you to do so, listening carefully for the small whimper that left your lips before beginning to stroke his cock. his eyes and yours fluttered closed at the same time, thousands of miles apart, and he grunted when you mewled into your phone's mic. "you bein' a good girl for me?"

you moaned at his words, rubbing circles into your clit as you pictured how hot he must look at his desk right now. "i'm being so good for you, j, promise," you crooned. "just wish it was your fingers instead of mine."

he groaned desperately and you could just see him bucking his hips up into his hand. "need more noise from you, toots. 's all i got right now," he instructed. you obeyed, not holding anything back, and continued producing lewd wails, crying out his name as you wished more than anything he could be here with you.

the sounds he let out were surely ones that he wouldn't let anyone else alive hear him make; only you could draw these low, frenzied moans from him. you knew this and appreciated it for what it was: him being absolutely whipped for you.

"i-i'm getting close, j," you said airily.

"me too, doll, c'mon, keep goin'. finish with me," he whined, impatient from not having you on his cock like he wanted. the two of you continued, panting and writhing, craving only each other until you cried out and gasped, unable to catch your breath for a few moments as your orgasm crashed through you. "yeahhh, attagirl, toots!" he praised you before sighing an, "ahh, fuck," and spilling all over his stomach, staining his plain black shirt.

"we gotta do that more often," you murmured hazily.

"yeah, we do, doll. it was great. you should go to bed though, 'kay? i'll call you in the morning," he agreed lovingly. you protested for a moment before he convinced you and hung up. it wasn't long before he sent you a selfie of his thick, leaking, red cock, still standing at attention against his torso and cum-stained shirt. you groaned, insatiably horny for him, and threw your phone down. there was no way you could sleep now.

[unsuperingyournatural]

building something together

Joel Miller x Jackson Leader!Reader

The morning briefing was already underway by the time Joel arrived, his boots caked with mud and his expression unreadable. You didn’t look up right away. The council had been debating food preservation methods for the past fifteen minutes, and you had little patience left. You rubbed at your temple with the edge of a knuckle, letting your councilmates finish their point before offering a calm, decisive response. Your mind was already on the growing supply delays and the fragility of ration stock.

When Joel finally slipped in beside Tommy and leaned against the wall, arms crossed and silent, you acknowledged him with a glance. Just long enough to send a message. He was late. Again. And he knew it.

He didn’t apologize. He rarely did. He just waited until the discussion shifted and you mentioned rerouting lumber deliveries to the west side of town. That was when he finally spoke, his voice low, even, but with that unmistakable edge.

“You really think movin’ all that out there’s smart? It’ll slow the foundation builds.”

You met his eyes directly, your spine straight, tone steady. “We’ve got a dozen homes almost framed. The west block has nothing but a few empty lots and people crammed into shared housing. If we don’t start there before the next freeze, it’ll set us back months.”

Joel’s jaw worked for a second like he might argue again. But then he just breathed through his nose, nodded once, and stayed quiet.

The rest of the meeting went long. You felt every minute of it dragging across your nerves like a slow burn. When it finally wrapped, Joel didn’t say a word to you. Just walked out with Tommy, leaving the council to clear out in pairs and small groups. You lingered, tidying the table, reviewing your notes again even though you already knew what needed to happen.

Afterward, you didn’t see Joel for most of the day. The hours blurred together in the way they always did lately. You logged inventory, helped settle a dispute about missing fuel rations, and dealt with a malfunctioning radio that left one patrol unreachable for two hours. You patched things up. You gave orders. You smiled when needed and stood firm when pressed. When your head finally lifted from the paperwork, it was late afternoon, and the sun had already begun to shift west.

You walked to the construction site without thinking too hard about why. The air was cold but clean, and the scent of fresh-cut timber reached you before you even saw the outline of the half-finished house.

Joel stood in the skeletal frame of a home, barking instructions to a pair of younger men who clearly respected him but hadn’t yet learned to keep up with his pace. His flannel sleeves were rolled up, his forearms streaked with dust and sweat, and the set of his shoulders told you how tired he was even before he turned around. There was a tension in his posture, something tight across his back and neck, the kind that didn’t come just from lifting beams or leveling floors.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Not until your voice broke across the hammering. “Looks sturdy.”

Joel turned. Surprise flickered over his face, real and unguarded for just a second, before it softened into something else, something quieter. He grabbed a water bottle from a crate and crossed to you, handing it over with a quiet murmur.

“Drink. You’ve been at it all day.”

Your fingers brushed his as you took it, and something small but warm passed between you. A current that wasn’t new, but still made you pause.

“You checkin’ up on me?” he asked, voice lighter than before, a hint of a smile trying to push through the fatigue.

“Maybe.” You took a slow sip from the bottle, then lowered it, meeting his eyes. “Or maybe I just wanted to see how things are really going.”

Joel looked at you for a long second, unreadable again. “They’re goin’. Just slow.”

You nodded, but didn’t say anything else. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, only full of the things you didn’t have time to say with others around. You lingered a little longer before heading off, both of you returning to your respective tasks for the rest of the afternoon. By the time the sky began to dim, casting long shadows across the frozen ground, the day had taken its toll.

Dinner that night was at Maria and Tommy’s place, something Maria had insisted on keeping regular despite everyone’s growing responsibilities. It was her way of ensuring none of you lost track of each other in the chaos. The table was already set when you arrived, the scent of roasted root vegetables and fresh bread filling the room with a comfort that almost made you feel normal.

You ended up seated next to Joel, him subtly pulling the chair out for you. His knee pressed lightly against yours under the table. You didn’t move. His hand found yours more than once, accidentally at first, but then not so much. He brushed his fingers along yours when he passed the bread. Rested his palm on your thigh for just a moment after you made a sharp point about crop rotation that made even Tommy blink.

The conversation hummed around you, but Joel’s presence pulled your focus. He didn’t speak much, but he listened. Eyes tracking every voice, especially yours. You caught him watching you more than once, that steady intensity never wavering.

When Maria brought up a recent council argument that ended in raised voices, Joel leaned in close enough that his beard tickled your ear.

“You gotta stop terrifyin’ the new folks.”

You turned just enough to shoot him a wry look. “They should do their jobs.”

He chuckled under his breath, barely audible. “Remind me not to cross you.”

Later, when the dishes had been cleared and Tommy was pouring Maria a final glass of wine, you and Joel slipped out into the cold without needing to say anything. The sky had deepened into a shade of navy that made the stars look sharper, more present. You walked side by side through the quiet streets of Jackson, your boots scuffing softly against the snow-dusted path.

Snowflakes danced in the air, clinging to your lashes and hair. Joel shrugged out of his coat without hesitation and settled it around your shoulders. The inside was still warm. You didn’t give it back.

For a while, the walk was quiet. Not strained. Just thoughtful. You both carried too much these days, and it was rare to walk without the weight of the town pressing down on your backs.

“About this morning,” Joel said eventually, his voice low and rough from the cold.

You looked up at him. “You don’t have to explain.”

He nodded slowly, then sighed. “Yeah, I do.” He paused for a few steps, his boots crunching softly on the snow-packed path. “It’s just... sometimes I still get caught in thinkin’ the worst’ll happen. Always have.”

You nodded once, your hands tucked deep into the coat. “So do I.”

Joel glanced over, his voice softer now. “But I ain’t tryin’ to fight you. I trust you. I hope you know that.”

You stopped walking, turned to face him in the glow of a nearby porch light.

“I need to feel like we’re on the same team.”

His eyes held yours. “We are,” he said. “Even when I’m slow to act right. We are. Always.”

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you just let the words settle between you, their meaning soft and solid like freshly packed snow. Joel gave a small nod, as if sealing a promise without needing to say more. The two of you resumed walking, slower now, your steps falling in rhythm again. The weight of the conversation lingered, but something had eased between you.

By the time you reached the porch, the quiet had become companionable. There was no big gesture, no dramatic pause. Just Joel slipping his arm around your waist. Just the slow exhale he gave when your head rested lightly on his shoulder. The scent of sawdust, earth, and cold clung to him, grounding you.

Inside, the house was still. The fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the floorboards. You kicked your boots off slowly, carefully, like if you moved too fast the moment might break. Joel latched the door behind you, and the silence settled in.

Joel moved to the hearth and crouched in front of the fireplace, stacking dry kindling with care before striking a match and holding it to the base. He shielded the flame with his hand until it caught, then added a log, coaxing the fire to life with practiced ease. The room began to glow again, warmer now, softer. You drifted over to the couch and sank into the cushions, pulling one of the old knit blankets across your lap. When Joel joined you, he didn’t say anything, just eased beside you and let his arm settle around your shoulders. You leaned into him without hesitation, your head finding the crook of his neck, your hand resting lightly on his chest.

The heat of the fire, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the familiar scent of him—it all worked its way into your bones, steadying you. And when his hand shifted, when his fingers trailed down and came to rest over your stomach, it wasn’t sudden or uncertain. It was natural. Like it belonged there. 

No one else knew yet. Not even Tommy.

When you first told Joel, he hadn’t said anything at first. Just stared down at the floor, his hands braced on his knees. You waited, gave him time. You knew what it brought up for him. The weight of Sarah. The pain of almost losing Ellie. The fear that history would repeat itself, again and again.

But then he looked up. And slowly, quietly, honestly, he said he wanted this. That he was scared, but not enough to turn away. Not enough to give up.

Now, in the stillness of your home, with the fire flickering low and his hand resting over the new life growing inside you, you ask him the question anyway.

“You still sure?” The words come out soft, but not uncertain.

Joel doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look away. He just nods.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I’m sure.”

He leans forward until his forehead presses to yours, warm and solid. His hand stays right where it is, grounding both of you.

“We’ll figure the rest out,” he says, voice calm and steady, “together.”

And you hold on to that, not because you need reassurance, but because you believe it. Because he means it. Because this time, you both are here, and even though this wasn't planned, you’re ready. Ready to build something lasting in a world that rarely allows for permanence. Ready to move forward, together, not in spite of the past, but with it. Even with the risk, even with the scars, you're choosing this. You're choosing each other. And even in the moments when doubt lingers, that choice feels like steady earth beneath your feet, a foundation strong enough to hold the weight of what you've both carried—and everything you're going to build.

[msbigredmachine]

Black Sweatpants (Roman Reigns)

Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman's appearance on March 22 2024. Pat was forced to cut a promo on the fly because Roman took too long to come out 😂

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Smut

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

You knew he would get out there late, and you accepted full responsibility. But given the way you were getting dicked down right now, it was totally worth it.

Your blood-red lace thong dangled from your right ankle as Roman jackhammered into you, his thick shaft stuffed inside your tender walls. Biting down on your bottom lip, you wrapped your arms tight around the big man, long-awaited pleasure coursing down your spine all the way to your pastel-colored toes as he pounded you out in the corner of the spacious locker room.

"Oh, ohhh fuck," you couldn't help but cry out at one particularly deep thrust.

"Keep it down before someone comes in here," he growled. Hunched over you, the wicked gleam in his eyes watching you struggle to suppress your moans, told you he was relishing every second of your agony.

"I'm trying, you ain't helping," you whined back.

"Not hard enough," he countered, nudging your legs wider and making you watch his dick disappear inside your wetness. He slapped your hand away when you placed it on his abs to push him back because he was getting too deep. "Naw, you wanted this dick all day, you better take it now..."

When you ordered the new all-black hoodie and joggers set from Nike for Roman, you knew he would look good in it. However, when he returned for his scheduled private flight to Iowa for Pat McAfee's show wearing it, you didn't expect him to look that good. And you certainly did not expect his dick print to be on display like that. You had endured three tortuous weeks of no sex because he'd been away spending time with his two kids he shared with his ex-wife. So you were excited to have him back, and judging from that not-so-little bulge between his legs, he was excited to see you too. You could all but see it, that long, thick brown cock that time and again wreaked the unholiest of havoc in you, protruding against the cotton material and calling for your attention. But the man had the gall to play hard to get, deliberately spurning your advances, acting all platonic and professional, like the rest of his team didn't already know you were lovers. Never one to back down, you ramped up your actions, rubbing his inner thigh throughout the flight and on the ride to Field House, brushing your body against him every chance you got, teasing him right back, trying to get him to crack. As soon as he ordered everyone out of his locker room just minutes after arriving, you knew you succeeded.

Roman planted wet kisses along the side of your neck, the soft prickles of his thick beard unleashing another flood between your legs. His hulking body stretched over yours, his sweatpants rolled down to just underneath the curve of his ass cheeks for the purpose of this quickie. He was so hard inside you, demanding your pleasure as he impaled you with no mercy, his tempo hot and frenetic from the very start. His big hand slipped from your breast downwards to twirl his fingertips around your clit, your throaty whines music to his ears as your sweet moisture pooled around his fingers. The squelching noise pierced the air that was already thickened by your heavy breaths and his hips smacking into yours.

"Mmm, wet as fuck, just the way I like it," Roman grunted, leaning down to suckle on your left nipple, his saliva smearing the puckered skin when he released it with a wet pop, "I can tell you was goin' crazy without this dick, right, baby?"

"Yes, and yet your punk ass still ignored me all day, too fuckin' busy making your damn TikTok videos," you griped.

"Quit your whining, Daddy always gives you what you want in the end. Unh, how you feel so good all the time? I love it," he moaned, his brown irises rolling back briefly before they landed on yours again in an intense stare. Through the lustful haze of passion, you felt your heart thumping rapidly inside your chest as you looked into his eyes. It didn't matter if you were having sex or not; it always sped up in his mere presence.

You fell in love with him not long after you became his personal assistant a year and a half ago. You worked hard to please him, on the job and off it, and he showed you his gratitude in a plethora of ways, carnal and otherwise. You were a walking cliché, but you couldn't care less, not when it bagged you a man like that. The sex appeal oozed from his pores. He was confident and self-assured and had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. He got along with all of his team, was a decent and fair employer, and was generous to a fault, showering his staff with presents on birthdays and Christmases. The diamond pendant he gifted you for Valentine's Day currently hid between your cleavage he was kneading with his big hands. He was everything you could ask for in a boss and a boyfriend, which was honestly an impressive feat.

You placed one hand behind his neck and tugged him down to flick your tongue inside his warm mouth. His thrusts remained indulgent as you kissed hungrily, branding you, marking you, wiping out everything from your mind except the euphoric feeling that engulfed you every time he kissed and fucked you dumb. He pushed your dress further up your waist and gathered your supple ass cheek in his competent hand, lifting you right up against him. He was all up in your stomach and your walls suckled his cock greedily, holding him in a vice-like grip. The gruff yet sensual sounds pouring from him teased your core, making you need more of it, more of him.

"Awww, shit, yes," Your eyes fluttered shut when he began to wind his hips, circling clockwise and then in reverse, the head of his cock churning your sweet spot, his triumphant growl accompanying every thrust. In and out, in and out, the erotic loop punctuated by the low, husky groans of your Tribal Chief, causing your head to rock back from blinding bliss. "Ooooh baby, baby right there, ahh," you whimpered.

"Uh huh, I'm deep in that shit. Got this pussy feelin' good, huh?" Roman said, his haughty taunts disappearing in another moan as your pussy rippled around his dick over and over. He kept up his grinding strokes which seemed to intensify the throatier and more desperate your moans grew, as though the mere sound of them fueled his ruthlessness. His paw curled around your throat, his display of dominance leaving you a sopping, dripping mess as he made you take every inch of him. You were dizzy, on the verge of falling apart, and your body burned for release, yet all you could do was hold on while this man continued to destroy you, rendering you helpless and pathetic and under his heady spell.

"I'm gonna come, Daddy," you gasped. Your fingernails clawed at his forearm holding your neck, moaning his name as he fucked you harder, making sure there was no way you would last long with the kind of pounding he was giving you right now.

"Mmm-hmm, come on my dick, give it to me," he ordered, barely hanging on himself. He groaned as your pussy walls held his cock hostage, making him swell inside you as his climax beckoned. "Fuck, babe, ahhh, fuck..."

Burying your face in his broad chest, you barely kept your scream muffled as your orgasm tore through you, your body arching, legs trembling around his waist as you came hard. Time and space and coherence blurred into one sensual puddle. His heavy weight almost smothered you as he chased his own orgasm, his eyes glazing over in a telltale sign that he was right there with you. His hips jerked as his dick began to throb and twitch inside you, and you gasped at the feel of his seed spilling inside your walls, his big body shivering from the force of his release, his deep voice exhaling guttural moans as he succumbed to you. It felt so good, feeling him fall with you, toppling over the precipice of pleasure together.

After he finally caught his breath, Roman shifted back a bit to observe you, taking in your face, flushed with satisfaction, your lips plumped and ravaged by his own. You looked damn beautiful, and he showed you by brushing your mouths together in the gentlest, sweetest kisses.

"Happy now?" he smirked.

You grinned from ear to ear. "Very happy, Daddy. I've missed you. Love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," he replied with one last soft kiss, both of you moaning as his drained dick slipped out of your warm confines. You dragged yourself to a seated position when he climbed off you and hurriedly tugged his pants back up. Adjusting your dress, you checked your watch and sighed. "Great, you're two minutes behind schedule. You're not even mic'd up yet," you said, fishing out Roman's bottle of Jean-Paul Gaultier cologne from his backpack and giving the room a few quick spritzes to stifle the cloying scent of your latest sexscapade.

"Well, Pat's gonna have to wait," he answered flippantly as he raked his hair back into its trademark bun. He watched you reach for your underwear that had tangled around your foot and beat you to the punch, snatching up the tiny scrap of lingerie and tucking it into his back pocket.

"Roman!" you exclaimed.

"What? It's mine now," he declared, grabbing his gold championship belt and standing to his full height. You bit your lip as you drank him in, your gaze stopping between his sturdy thighs. You just had sex but you found yourself getting aroused again.

"Your dick print is still showing," you pointed out, licking your lips reflexively.

"Course it is, I got that thang on me," he bragged, smoothing his big hand over his groin, his body tingling from the memory of your delicious warmth. Noticing the heat in your eyes, he smiled that suggestive half-smile of his and tapped your backside. "Down, baby girl, Daddy's gotta go to work. You can have me all you want after TV tonight."

As you followed him out of the locker room and stepped into the cold sunshine, you caught the slightly pronounced limp in your man's walk, his glowing, kiss-swollen features, the extra width in his smile, and beamed with pride.

Yeah, I did that shit.

THE END

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

Another short one. Thoughts?

I have a few more Roman ones I'm working on and hope to get out soon.

Thank you all so much for reading!

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[doctorbitchcrxft]

What Is and What Never Should Be | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: Dean's an alcoholic dick, coping with trauma from a sexual assault, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of suicide but like not really cause it’s in a dream, canon violence, canon gore (take care of yourselves, as always. Love you guys.)

Word Count: 5281

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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About two weeks had passed since you’d left Deacon’s prison. You were convinced it was the hardest two weeks of your life. You couldn’t quite decide if you wanted Dean hugging you all the time, or if you never wanted anyone to touch you again. It felt like every time you looked in the mirror, you were in that disheveled prison guard outfit again, tears streaming down your face with fresh scrapes trailing down your arm. You felt like you were never going to leave the prison’s parking lot.

It definitely didn’t help that you were also having to deal with being fugitives simultaneously. Sam and Dean were waiting for you back at the motel. You put the two of them on a strict lockdown given their mugshots would be everywhere, and the feds hadn’t seemed to find a clear enough image of you to post yours. You drove the Impala around the area of your newest hunt searching for a potential location the victims could have been brought to while the boys researched back in their motel room. 

You knew Dean could tell you were pulling away from him, and you knew it was hurting him. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t let him in right now. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems given Sam was supposed to be the main concern right now and evading federal agents was a huge priority. You needed to deal with your issues in silence in order to keep yourself from completely breaking down in front of the boys and pulling focus away from what you believed were more pressing issues.

Your phone rang and broke you out of your thoughts. It was Sam’s number. “Hello?” you said into the phone.

“Hey. Got you on speaker,” he replied. “There’s a cop car outside.”

“You think it’s for us?” you questioned.

“I don't know.”

“I don't see how,” Dean jumped in, his voice a little distant. “I mean we ditched the plates, the credit cards.”

Sam breathed out suddenly. “They're leaving. False alarm.”

“Well, see. Nothing to worry about,” Dean jested.

“Yeah, being fugitives? Friggin’ dance party,” Sam deadpanned.

“Hey, man, chicks dig the danger vibe,” Dean commented.

You scoffed. “Got anything yet?” you asked the boys.

“Just one thing. I'm pretty sure of it now. We're hunting a Djinn,” Sam answered.

“Really? How do you know?” you questioned.

“A freaking genie?” Dean asked simultaneously. “What? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Quran.”

“And where do these guys shack up?” you asked. 

“Ruins usually. Uh, bigger the better; more places to hide,” Sam replied.

Something struck you. “Y’know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I'm gonna go check it out.”

“Hell no, (Y/N),” Dean stated, voice suddenly much closer to the phone. “You’re not goin’ without us.”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around,” you argued. 

“I’ll call you guys when I’m headed back.” Despite the voices of the Winchesters protesting, you hung up the phone and turned the Impala around. 

Minutes later, you came upon a decaying factory. Doors squeaked on their hinges as you pushed through them and decades-old papers crunched beneath your feet like fallen leaves. Everything seemed very empty and very abandoned, but you weren’t quite convinced. You headed deeper into the factory past several offices with smashed windows on their doors and blinds hanging crookedly. 

Suddenly, something grabbed you and pinned you to the wall behind you. You dropped the flashlight you were holding as the Djinn pinned your hand above your head. You got a clear look at the monster in front of you; a bald man with curling blue tattoos detailing his face and body. You struggled against him, trying to get your knife through his chest with your free hand, but he pinned that one as well. The eyes before you began to glow an electric blue, and your entire body went numb.

*** The next time you woke up, you were alone in a comfortable bed. You jerked up, turned on the lamp next to you, and took in the room around you. There were scrubs tossed on the back of a rocking chair in the corner of the room and a picture of you and Dean hung on the far wall. 

‘What the fu—’ you thought. 

Suddenly, a shirtless Dean entered the room wearing sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean!” you exclaimed. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

He eyed you strangely and snorted. “Wha— What do you mean?”

“Where are we?” you asked.

Dean paused, still standing in the doorway and taken aback. “Uh, our house?”

“What?” you questioned.

“Babe, are you feeling okay?” he questioned, sitting on the bed next to you. “I knew your shift at the hospital was bad, but—”

“Wait, what? I don’t work in a hospital, I was hunting a Djinn—” 

Dean cut you off. “You were probably just having a bad dream, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

You weren’t quite sure what Dean was talking about or if this was even Dean. Maybe  he’d been possessed, maybe you’d been— ‘Wait,’ you thought. ‘The Djinn. Maybe he did this to me.’

Dean climbed into bed next to you, and you noticed he wasn’t wearing the amulet he quite literally never took off. You were apparently eyeing him strangely, because he chuckled, “What?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “Just, uh— where’s your necklace?”

Dean laughed, almost sounding relieved. “Oh, I took it off to shower.” He put a silver chain with dog tags hanging from it around his neck. He opened his arm for you to settle into. 

Hesitantly, you laid down on Dean’s chest. You didn’t get much sleep the remainder of that night, though; incredibly uneasy about what was going on around you. 

Around three in the morning, you slipped out of Dean’s arms and began to explore the house around you. You peeked through the bedroom window to see a neighborhood outside that screamed Middle America. You crept down the hallway to the living room and kitchen area. 

Along the walls of the den, there were photos hanging of what looked like you as a teenager and a child, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t think photos of you existed of that time in your life. And if they did exist, they definitely were not of you at your third birthday with a pink frilly party hat stuffing cake in your face or of you in a cap and gown graduating high school and college. The next thing that caught your eye was a picture of you hugging Steven tightly. Your hand flew to your mouth at the sight. However, it wasn’t your Steven. This one was older and a lot happier than the Steven you once knew. 

Then, there were pictures of you and your mother. Your father was nowhere to be seen, much to your surprise. You nearly wept at the sight of your mom. Then, there were pictures of a young Sam and Dean. One was Dean hugging his mother. He looked much older than four which was the age you knew his mother died at. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed out. 

You took out your phone and checked the time. You considered for a moment, but decided to call Sam figuring he would likely be up soon anyway. 

“Sam?” you asked when the call was answered. 

“(Y/N)?” His voice sounded raspy and tired. 

“Hey, yeah, what the hell’s goin’ on, man?” you demanded.

“(Y/N), what are you—”

“Oh, god, not you, too.” You hung up the phone and ran a hand through your hair. No one but you seemed to understand that this wasn’t right. You noticed something laying on the coffee table at your feet. An envelope addressed to you with Lawrence, Kansas written on one of the address lines. 

“Lawrence? Why the fuck am I in Lawrence?” you breathed out. 

You noticed a computer sitting a distance away and immediately hurried to it. You typed in your password; no luck. You tried Sam’s password for his and Dean’s shared laptop; no luck either. Frustrated, you sat back in the desk chair. You weren’t sure where the idea came from, but you suddenly had the thought to type in Steven’s name and birthday. Somehow, it worked. You remembered how that was your original idea for a computer password when you first bought yourself a laptop in your real life, but the reminder of Steven was too painful to do so. 

You then set to work researching the Djinn. You learned that they’re not so much genies as they are wielders of godlike power. They could alter reality to their whims however they want in the past, present, and future. 

Then, the thought hit you. ‘What if this is just my life now? What if I never see my Dean again? Am I even a hunter wherever this is?’ Your breath hitched as you realized something else. ‘Was I ever raped? Are my parents alive? Where’s Stevie?’

You typed “whitepages” into the search bar and put in your father’s full name; no results. You tried your mother’s and actually got a hit. She lived in Lawrence, too. 

‘What the fuck?’

You then tried Steven’s. Surprisingly, his name generated results, too. He also lived in Lawrence. 

You hurriedly wrote their addresses down on a sticky note beside you on the desk. When you returned to your room, it was around five in the morning. Creeping around the room, you discovered the clothes in your closet were nothing like you wore in the real world: flowing skirts, cardigans, and lots of different colored scrubs. You almost smiled at the sight of the clothes hanging in your closet. 

‘In another life, I definitely would’ve worn all this,’ you thought. You’d always wanted Carrie Bradshaw’s closet; Sex and the City was one of your guilty pleasure shows in the real world.

Your outfit of choice consisted of a pair of low-rise jeans, a halter top with a plunging neckline, and… ‘Oh.’ The only shoes this version of you had in her closet were heels. Admittedly, you’d never been great at wearing them, but always wanted to try. And so, you did. 

Dean still slept peacefully, and you carefully clacked your heels back down the hallway. You headed outside to find the Impala in the driveway, and for that, you were grateful. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” you grinned. You remembered seeing car keys on a hook next to the door of the house and quickly grabbed them. You popped open the trunk of the Impala secretly hoping to find something useful in it. However, old playboy magazines and paper cups were all you found.

‘Ew, Dean, clean out your car.’

You moved around to the driver’s side of the car. Before you could sit down in it, though, something caught your eye. A girl with a gaunt face and billowing white clothing was standing across the street on one of the neighbor’s lawns. A car blew past, and she was suddenly gone. 

***

You rolled to a stop in front of the first address you had written down: your mother’s. You tried to keep your composure as you walked up to her front door. Hesitantly, you rapped your knuckles against it. 

The door opened to reveal your beautiful mother who you’d missed so much. She looked a little older than she did the last time you saw her, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from throwing your arms around her.

“Mom?” you breathed out.

“What is it, hon?” she asked. “C’mon, come inside.”

The sound of her voice made tears spring to your eyes. You followed her into the living room where pictures of you and Steven lined the walls between crucifixes.

“Hey, Mom?” you started. “What song did you sing to me before you used to put me to bed?”

She looked confused, but humored you anyway. “The, uh, ‘The Long to Be’ song by the Carpenters.”

You smiled, partially in relief that this seemed to really be her and not just a figment of your imagination and partially at the fact that she knew. You rushed to her and hugged her tightly. Your mother seemed taken aback once more, but didn’t say anything to let on that she was.

“You okay? Everything alright with Dean?” your mother asked you. 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s— everything’s great. Just, uh, it was a rough day at the hospital, ‘s all,” you said.

“How’s the garage?” 

You tilted your head. “The garage?”

She seemed confused, too. “Dean’s? How’s work going for him?”

“Oh, oh. The garage, of course,” you laughed awkwardly. ‘Smooth, (Y/N),’ you mentally berated yourself. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s great.”

“Really? Last time we talked, he was too busy drinking to focus on fixing a car,” she said.

You felt stunned. The Dean you knew was bordering on becoming an alcoholic, sure, but he wouldn’t let that get in the way of his job.

“Baby, I’m glad to see you, but why are you here at six in the morning?” your mom questioned.

“I just— I just couldn’t sleep. Needed to see my mom,” you replied. It was a half-truthful response.

Your mother offered a small, thoughtful smile. “Oh,” she suddenly said. “What time are you and Dean going to dinner tonight?”

You tilted your head. “Uh—”

“For Mary’s birthday?” she prompted. 

“Oh, oh,” you said. “Right.”

“Did he not tell you?” she asked. “(Y/N), I’ve been telling you that boy isn’t right for you for a while now.”

“Mom—” you protested.

“No, (Y/N). You’re a fantastic nurse. You’re dating a drunkard mechanic. Why couldn’t you have dated Sam?”

“Ew, mom, no. Sam’s my best friend,” you said.

She seemed stunned. “What? That’s new. Last we talked, you hadn’t heard from Sam in months. Neither had Dean.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Right, right, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—”

“Have you been drinking? Dean’s rubbing off on you, (Y/N). You should have listened to me when I warned you about him,” your mother sighed. 

“Jesus, Mom—”

“Don’t take his name in vain!” she scolded.

You scoffed. “I forgot that you’re like this.” You crossed your arms and turned away from her. 

“Like what?” your mother pressed, voice rising. 

“So incredibly judgmental of me. I’ve never been good enough for you or Dad, Mom!”

“How dare you bring up your father!” your mother cut you off.

“What?!”

“Wow, you really are drunk, (Y/N),” she replied. “He’s been dead almost your whole life. You barely even knew him. How could you say that about him?”

You felt like you’d been punched in the chest. ‘So that means he never hit us.’ “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Just leave, (Y/N). Please. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she sighed.

You turned and slammed the door behind you. You sat in the Impala with your head on the steering wheel just trying to process everything that was going on. Even in this fantasy land or new reality or wherever this place was, your mother was harshly critical of you. Granted, you’d rather her harshly criticize you and be alive than dead, but this version of your mother perfectly mirrored the true version of her. It truly freaked you out. 

‘Well, scratch that off the list, I guess,’ you thought.

***

You hesitantly knocked on the door of your little brother’s home. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked upon opening the door.

Tears sprang to your eyes. “Steve?” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked.

You smiled as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Uh, just a hard day at work ‘s all,” you replied. You threw yourself into his arms; a hug he responded to immediately. 

“Hey, seriously, what happened?” he asked when you pulled away. “Was it Dean again? The hospital never gets to you like that.”

“Wait, what? No,” you shook your head. “Why does everybody keep saying he treats me poorly?”

Steven looked at you as if it was obvious. “Uh, ‘cause he does. He’s an alcoholic playboy asshole that you’re way too good for.”

“What?!” you questioned. “No, he isn’t.”

He sighed. “Listen, (Y/N), I don’t wanna keep having this fight with you.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied. You stopped for a moment. “Stevie, I’m really happy to see you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too.”

A small voice piped up from behind your brother. “Daddy?”

Steven stepped back to reveal a staggering toddler in pigtails. He picked her up and grinned down at her. “What’s up, kiddo?”

‘He’s a dad?’ Your shock only increased, and you smiled at the sight of them interacting. Another tear slipped down your cheek. 

“Why’s Minnie crying?” the toddler asked her father.

You grinned. “She calls me ‘Minnie’?” 

Steven nodded. “Yeah, just like I used to.”

You laughed. “Can I hold her?”

“Duh,” he replied, handing his daughter to you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you grinned down at her. She tugged on the ends of your hair, babbling happily and singing to herself.

“Look, Minnie, I braid.” The toddler held up a now twisted, knotted mess of your hair. 

You smiled at her. “Awesome job, angel.” 

You sat on the floor playing with your niece and Steven for hours until your phone rang.

“Hey, (Y/N), where ya been?” Dean’s voice came from the other line.

“Steven’s,” you replied. “Why, what’s up?”

“We gotta be at my mom’s in an hour. Meet me there?” he asked.

*** You met Dean on the steps of his mother’s house. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned, pecking your lips. 

Suddenly, a voice came from behind you. “Seriously, Dean?”

“Sam!” you exclaimed, turning around to give him an enthusiastic hug. He hesitated to return it, and the woman next to him cleared her throat. You released him to come face to face with Jessica, a woman you’d only seen in pictures. 

“Hey, Jess,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue. You hugged her as well, and she awkwardly laughed.

“Hi, (Y/N),” she said. 

You then noticed the awkward distance between the two brothers and the bags Sam was lugging out of the trunk of the taxi in front of you. 

“Where'd you guys come from?” you asked.

“We just flew in from... Califor—”

“California! Stanford and everything. Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’m really not with it today.”

Sam nodded somewhat disapprovingly. “I can see that.” He motioned to the beer in Dean’s hand. “I see you started off Mom's birthday with a bang, as usual.”

“Sam—” Dean warned.

Your heart was breaking at the awkward tension between two brothers who were otherwise incredibly close friends. You couldn’t believe there was a universe where Sam and Dean weren’t, well, Sam and Dean.

***

The restaurant you sat in next to Dean was stuffy. Sam and Jessica were dressed equally as stuffy. Nothing felt right at this moment. You were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were here, and that you needed to figure out how to help yourself get out of here. 

“Wow, that... looks awesome,” Dean said, referring to the plate of steak and asparagus that had been placed in front of him.

Sam raised his glass. “All right. To Mom. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you, Dean, and Jessica said in unison.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, clinking her glass against yours.

You watched Sam and Jessica peck each other on the lips and you smiled fondly. 

“I was really worried about you last night,” Dean told you.

“Oh, I'm… I'm good. I'm really good,” you nodded.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” he smirked. “I know a few ways I can make that a reality, though.”

You recoiled at that comment, slightly dumbfounded by how correct Steven had been about Dean’s behavior in this realm.

“Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday. Ah,” Sam turned to Jessica, “you wanna tell 'em?”

“They're your family,” she laughed.

“What? Tell me what?” Mary asked excitedly.

Sam held up Jessica’s left hand to reveal an engagement ring. You laughed happily in surprise. “Holy shit! That’s amazing!” You got up and hugged Sam happily before hugging Jessica. “Congratulations!” you told them.

“I just wish your dad was here,” Mary told Sam.

You suddenly realized John was missing. You searched Sam’s face, whose disappointment mirrored his mother’s.

Dean and Sam awkwardly shook hands which hurt your heart a little to see. Just behind them, though, you noticed the girl from earlier. Her white, flowing clothing was much filthier and torn this time. You brushed past Sam and headed toward the girl, pushing past people mingling in between you and the haunting figure. As you pushed past the final woman, the girl was gone.

Confused, you turned back around to see the equally weirded-out faces of the Winchester family. 

Sheepishly, you grinned and walked back over to them.

*** “You got somethin’ we need to talk about?” Dean asked you. He’d been completely silent since dinner up until this moment. He downed a beer in the kitchen before turning to you. 

“What?” you asked.

“Back there with Sam. What’s going on with you two?” Dean asked. “In fact, you’ve been acting really weird the past two days. There somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You scoffed. “Dean, I’m not fucking your brother. Look, I’m not feeling like myself right now. ‘S all.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Dean responded mockingly.

“Dude, why are you being such a dick?” you questioned.

“Oh, so we just call each other ‘dude’ now?” he argued.

“Listen, I’m really not enjoying this attitude, okay?” you responded.

Dean cut you off. “I’m not enjoying yours, either. What happened to the sweet little nurse I married?”

“Jesus, we’re married?” you questioned before you could help yourself. 

“(Y/N), what the hell?” Dean replied, his confusion seeming to grow by the minute. 

“I think I’m just… overly tired. I’m gonna… sleep out here tonight,” you said.

Dean scoffed. “Since when are you the childish one?”

“I’m not being childish, Dean, I just wanna sleep on the couch tonight, okay?” you hissed.

“Fine.” He left the room and returned to the bedroom the two of you apparently shared. You heard the door slam a moment later, and you flinched. You settled to the couch and pulled a blanket over yourself. You clicked on the television and began clicking through the channels. Something on the news caught your attention.

“And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424,” the reporter began.

“What the—” you breathed out. 

“Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives—”

Your throat clenched. “No, no. We stopped that crash.”

Panicked, you moved to your computer. Every hunt you checked had apparently never happened. “Nine Children Comatose” was the headline describing a “mystery illness” that had swept Dane County Hospital. Then, the brutal homicides from the clown killer after John died. And Taylor from the closing-down-Hoodoo-hotel case had drowned in the hotel pool. As you looked out the front window, you saw the same woman you’d seen twice already flash by the window. You turned around to see several female corpses hanging around you, and you nearly screamed out in surprise. Then, that same woman again flickering in front of you.

This twisted world was completely shocking even you, an experienced hunter. Your mind raced, but you knew what you had to do. A picture of your dad holding you as a baby on the wall of your house caught your attention.

“I’m sorry you’re not here, Dad,” you murmured. “And I know what I need to do. I’m gonna hunt this son of a bitch, but… I don’t know. Stevie’s happy. Mom’s… Mom. And I just— Why do we always have to be the ones to sacrifice something? A part of me is happy to do it, and this is proof that I could never have this. But it’s just… I don’t know. I know you’re tellin’ me to stop whinin’ and just get it done. I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

And with that, you grabbed a silver knife from your china cabinet and headed out to the Impala. You managed to steal lamb’s blood from a butcher’s shop and headed to the factory you’d last seen the Djinn at. 

***

Hours later, you arrived at the factory in Illinois. Running on pure adrenaline, you headed inside. You moved your flashlight around to illuminate different parts of the factory, and you ignored your phone as it began to ring in your back pocket. The ringing silenced, and then rang again. Without thinking, you lifted your phone over your head and slammed it into the ground, shattering and silencing it completely.

Then, you came across a big store room with the same bodies you’d seen hanging in your living room strung up around it. Next, you noticed the woman you’d been seeing all along. She seemed close to death; her cheeks sallow, face pale, and body hanging limply. 

“It’s her,” you breathed out.

Suddenly, you saw the Djinn coming around the corner. You ducked into the shadows as the woman began to cry. “Where's my dad? I won't tell—” she suddenly cut herself off. “Don't. Where's my dad?”

“Sleep,” you heard a soothing male voice say. “Sleep.”

You then saw the woman’s body completely relax, and the Djinn began to drink from the blood bag next to where she was hanging. 

‘So that’s what it does,’ you realized. ‘It doesn’t grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.’ As the Djinn disappeared, you continued to think. ‘What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?’ You walked up to the woman. “I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.’ You nearly scoffed audibly. ‘So, she’s not a spirit, she’s a flash of reality. I’m catatonic. Fucking great.’

Then, you remembered an old wives’ tale. “Listen to me, motherfucker!” you called into the darkness. “I’m gonna slit my fucking throat! I die in a dream, I wake up, right! Come and get me, I dare you!”

“Wait!” Dean’s voice suddenly called. He walked into the room. 

“Why'd you have to keep digging?” Sam asked.“Why couldn't you have left well enough alone? You were happy.”

Your mother walked up to you and put a hand to your cheek. “Put the knife down, honey.”

“You're not real,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “None of it is.”

“It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had,” Steven replied, holding his daughter. 

“What?” you breathed.

“It's everything you want. C’mon, let’s go home,” Dean pleaded. 

“I'll die,” you argued, voice breaking. “The Djinn 'll drain the life out of me in a couple of days.”

“But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime,” your mother said. “I promise.” She put her hand to your cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. (Y/N), stay with us. Get some rest.”

“You and Dean don't have to worry about Sam anymore,” Jessica said. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

Dean walked up to you and kissed you fiercely. “We can have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, sweetheart. Please.”

“Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?” Sam tried. “I'm begging you. Give me the knife.”

You looked over to Steven, your lip quivering as you sobbed. “I’m sorry.” You slashed your throat with the knife, and the world went white once more. 

***

“(Y/N)!” you heard someone yelling. “Sweetheart, wake up. (Y/N)!”

‘Dean.’

“Oh, God. Come on,” you heard Sam murmuring. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up, damn it!”

You began to roll your head a little, and your eyes could finally open. “Hey, guys.”

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Dean sighed. “I thought I lost you for a second.” 

One of the two boys yanked out the IV in your arm. 

“You almost did,” you joked half-heartedly.

“Oh, god,” Dean muttered, giving you a once-over. “Let's get you down.”

You winced as the boys helped you down, but you suddenly saw a pair of blue eyes glowing behind the boys. “Boys!”

Sam wheeled around, going at the Djinn with the knife. Dean immediately tried to get you away from the scene and set you down a distance away from the scene. “Stay here!” he ordered.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I,” you groaned as Dean turned to help his brother. Several yelps and groans later, the two boys staggered over to you after having killed the Djinn. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing, and immediately moved over to the girl you’d been seeing in your sleep. “She's still alive!” you called to the boys upon feeling a pulse in her neck. 

The two Winchesters helped you cut her down and get her out of the factory to a hospital. 

***

Upon your return to the motel, you found out from the hospital that she was alive and stable. There was a solid chance the girl would pull through.

“How 'bout you? You all right?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, guys,” you said. “I’m great, actually. I’m just— I’m just glad to be back here again.”

“What was it like?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you were a complete dick,” you replied.

Dean chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“And Sam— Sam you were such a freak,” you said. “All stuffy and Stanford-y.” You paused for a moment. “But, uh, you guys were really breakin’ my heart, honestly. You couldn’t get along to save your life.”

“I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy,” Sam said.

“Trust me, it wasn’t,” you replied. “I know we’ve lost a lot, but, uh, I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. Even seeing Stevie again, I— it just wasn’t right. I felt like more of a freak there than I do here. I, uh, I wished what happened to me at the prison never had, but the truth is, that’s always gonna be with me. I can’t just… get rid of it. Nothing can. And that’s not okay, but I’ll learn to live with it.” 

You left the boys to sit with your words and moved to the bathroom. When you looked up at the mirror, an image of you with your mussed-up hair and guard uniform on flashed before you. You ignored the fresh-looking scrapes on your arm and blood streaking down them and shut your eyes. When you opened them once more, you were back to looking at your sunken face and tired eyes. 

Dealing with this was hell. Every day felt like a struggle since what happened to you. But deep down, if you were honest with yourself, you would take dealing with all this with your two boys over your white-picket-fence, Djinn-dream-life any day.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[lynxgriffin]

Yeah, the fact that Noelle can equip some swords is fairly ominous! And It's definitely interesting that the shard is one of those few objects that doesn't seem to change between worlds. Just really wonder what is going on with the Knight that they can look like that even jumping between worlds!

Yeah, it's honestly something I really appreciate about the fandom. It's also just a cool time capsule to see what people thought might happen between chapters, and what people prioritized, and then how those priorities and ideas shift with new information. If Undertale was in part a warning to players that overusing a game will detach you from its characters and world, I really feel like Deltarune is an encouragement to engage in fandom in order to take characters beyond what's already been set out for them.

Mmm no, I believe that part of chapter 2 did happen...it showed Queen's car in that scene, and the little bit you do drive her car she literally just has you barrel through everything in the way. That said, it really does feel to me like Susie is the lynchpin to change how the prophecy goes, just based on what Gerson tells her throughout chapter four. What that ending is, though, still don't know.

The images we see describing the heroes are frustratingly vague. Even the silhouette of "the girl" I feel has a duck-or-bunny situation where it could read as Susie facing left with her hair behind her, or Noelle with her hood up and wearing the tattered wings. Hell, I'd even say Ralsei is not 100% certain...during the sermon, Catty describes one of the heroes as being fluffy with horns, and sounding cute. Is that Ralsei or Asriel? Who even knows right now!!

It's hard to focus on because I feel like that could apply to any one of the main characters, or to none at all and something else entirely. All options would be bad!

Heck, right now I'm already afraid of the fact that there is a scary amount of foreshadowing that Kris will lose a hand before we're done!

Geez I have no clue how to choose. Hard to go wrong with Black Knife in chapter four, of course...but I think a lot of my favorite tunes are weighted towards chapter four. From Now On, Hammer of Justice, Gya Ha Ha! are all bangers... Right now I've got Second Sanctuary on repeat. Heck, even 12AM might be my new melancholy "Quiet Water"-esque favorite.

It really does seem to be there's some bigger conspiracy at work with people working with each other in different capacities...Kris and the Knight are involved, Kris and Carol are involved, Carol and the Knight are involved, Asgore is in that mix somewhere as well, and possibly also Alvin?? Honestly I'm going to need a Pepe Silvia corkboard or something to try and work it all out in my mind.

Dragon Blazers is such an interesting aspect of the game, because Dragon Blazers is the in-text media that Deltarune uses to talk about itself. (Cat Petterz almost seems like the inverse of this, the off-the-beaten-path game in comparison to Dragon Blazers' more straightforward adaptation.)

And yeah, that very well could indeed be a reference to something happening to Dess...I think that was a thought some folks had even before the new chapters. The "stay in the party" part could just be about reinterpretation telephone, yeah. It'd be really nice if we had a copy of Lord of the Hammer and knowledge of what happens in Dragon Blazers to compare, but I don't think that'll ever happen.

The prophecy is so vague on both the terms and symbology used that it could refer to Susie and Kris or the Vessel and Noelle. I don't know if we can say for sure that it's not one or the other. I lean towards the latter because I do like the idea that Susie is the wrench in the prophecy, but there's just as much evidence towards the fact that it IS supposed to be about Susie and Kris.

But man, after Susie's whole development where she's so excited about finally being picked for something, about actually being a hero...getting that rug pulled out from under her is going to really hurt if it happens.