#AND THE SPOT OF COLOR FROM HIS BROWN KICKS UGH

[todayisafridaynight]

My man has not been marinating in his sins under three layers of leather for this 😔😔😔

But I mean. Okay. Incredibly funny choice of materials for a very serious assassin though right... if the sound designers were BRAVE ENOUGH they would've added So Much Creaking when he moves...

Also, congrats on Masato! If it were down to Jo, Arakawa, and Masato, who wins drip-wise?

he did not bake in that leather shirt and crocodile suit to lose to ODA 😭 but on the real though PLEASE Y7 but every jo scene has the underlying sound of leather and gator skin squeaking ☠️☠️☠️

a fashion competition between the arakawas though.... how evil i love all of their outfits so much and i can easily make a case for all of them..... i think i do have to say 2019 jo does take it for me: i really do love all the textures on his outfit and the spots of purple from his patterned tie and the small sliver of white from his vest are SO good....

[ambrozjas]

I get so excited when I see you post Dallas stuff, your fics are great! Could you do a fic where reader x Dallas celebrate their anniversary? And Dallas is pretty nonchalant and forgetful but he ends up still making it special? Thanks!

the moonlight only enhances your beauty ꨄ︎

dallas winston x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

ugh i’ve been in such a funk i haven’t been wanting to write for a while and idk what’s wrong w me but i’m sorry guys!! i’ll try to keep up more, i’ve just been having to focus on my music pieces and festivals so i’ve been pretty busy :((

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

reader wears a nightgown, some cussing, literally a crap ton of descriptions of the moonlight and how it frames things bc i’m obsessed with describing it 💕

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1184 words, 6437 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“i don’t want to talk to you right now, dal.”

“c’mon!” he whined, dragging out the ‘n’ as his eyebrows raised and his eyes downturned in a puppy dog manner. you looked back at the clock, currently 11:47pm and you assumed maybe five minutes earlier those noises you heard outside weren’t stray cats fighting, it was dallas trying to get the ladder to come up to your window.

today was horrible, it was your anniversary, and he had the audacity to forget and then show up at your house begging for another chance to get you to go out with him? at eleven-fucking-forty-seven?

you had to admit, his brown eyes always made you give in no matter how stern you tried to be. whether they were slanted with a vindictive cat like stare, or big and dopey like a sad kicked puppy. you just couldn’t say no to them, even if you tried to put your foot down, this was still the case.

“dallas—“

he cut you off with a huff of your name, “just twenty minutes, that’s all i’m askin’ for, jeez.” you rolled your eyes as his facade dropped, the innocent act quickly shifting back to his regular curt tough nature. but nonetheless, you couldn’t say no. dallas winston always got what he wanted.

you walked away, dally’s eyes trailing after your figure as you walked into another room. your silk nightgown glowed in the moonlight as the creases took on a darker color as they shaded themselves, the blue-ish hue illuminating the rest of your body as you slipped away. dallas scoffed as he was about to climb back down the ladder before he head a faint, “wait.”

his eyes flickered back, watching as you emerged from the other room, only this time, with each step you took came a small clack sound. dallas looked down to see you in your shoes as you held up your jacket to show him.

“only twenty minutes, right?”

“yeah, yeah.” he muttered, watching as the bare skin was covered up by a dark coat of fabric, the zipper glimmering a bit as the moonlight shone on the silver lining before you turned around and made your way downstairs.

“so extra.” dally whispered before he climbed back down the ladder, careful to observe the ground and his feet while he stepped down each bar. the metal was cool beneath his hands, the warmth radiating off him instead because of how much he stuffed his hands in his pockets. the ladder’s paint was chipping off, revealing a silver coat underneath as it creaked with each movement dal made before finally, he spotted you coming out through the front door, back hunched as you tip-toed out.

“this better be good.” you mumbled, shaking your head as dallas carelessly left the ladder against your window and took you by the arm. he led you across town, and you thought to yourself that maybe you should’ve worn pants as you looked at your bare legs sticking out from underneath your nightgown.

with the cool breeze and your free hand—the one that wasn’t wrapped around dallas’ arm—clutching your gown so it wouldn’t fly up, it felt like you two had been walking forever. only the crickets and owls accompanied you with their songs sung in the night as you both walked through the empty streets of tulsa, careful to be on the lookout for any socs driving around in their pristine mustangs with their cigarettes hanging from their hand outside the car window.

you two finally made it to a small summer green turf, planted cautiously behind a few shops in the tall grass so nobody would steal it. “now wait ‘ere.” dallas told you, flicking the bridge between your eyebrows where your nose started as he jogged over to what looked to be a small blanket.

you cocked your head in bemusement, watching as he brought out his lighter and popped the cap open, trying to flick it on. a string of curses escaped his lips as it took a minute to start, but once it finally did he leaned down and positioned his back to light something you wouldn’t see. you stood on your tippy toes as you tried to see above before dallas snapped the lighter shut, shaking his hand once or twice to get rid of the burn from keeping the lighter open too long, and turned around to walk over and grab you by the arm.

you smiled once you took in the sight, already seeing what dallas was planning when he dragged you over there. it was a small blanket, one so small it probably wouldn’t even have enough space for the both of you, with two candles in the middle and a few snacks like cookies and packs of fruit around them. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as dallas smoothed his hair back, licking his slightly chapped lips as he intently watched you for a reaction.

you simply glanced at him and nodded your head to the side, signaling for him to join as you took a seat on the blanket. it was just as you expected, barely big enough to fit the both of you on it, but you didn’t care. all the anger from the day melted away as you watched dallas twiddle his thumbs when he sat beside you, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

then the small candles blew out once a small gust of wind came over the two of you.

dally mumbled a few profanities as his hand made its way back in his hair, smoothing it out to get rid of the reminding feeling of how nervous—the slight sweat on his forehead making his hair stick to it.

but oh glory, when you let out a small laugh, the sound falling from your lips as smooth as honey, dallas could’ve sworn he had heart palpitations—even if he’d never admit it.

and when you looked at him, the blue moonlight shone on your face just right. the glossiness of your teeth and the highlights on your nose seriously made you look like a work of art, your eyes getting that small glimmer in them as their corners crinkled when you grinned. dallas almost died right then and there.

when you looked at him, watching as the corners of his lips—although subtle—twitched upwards at the sight of you, your smile just got even bigger.

it was comical to you. the man sitting in front of you was dallas winston. who would’ve known that when he wasn’t slashing tim shepard’s tires or stealing a few packs of kools from the convenience store, he would be sitting here in the moonlight on what his best affordable idea of a ‘picnic’ was with you. nobody could deny the fact that you had dallas winston whipped.

then you both proceeded to yelp as a stronger gust of wind started to blow away the small bags of cookies away, hurling yourselves over the blanket and clambering away to try to avoid the food flying off into the street.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this request was literally adorbs omg 😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[crazy-only]

showing subby!yuki your favorite dessert !

pairing: subby!yuki x fem!reader

idea: golden retriever yuki follows you into one of your favorite dessert shops to taste the sweets; little does he know you have other plans for him. (*^^*)

creds: pretty 18+ divider by @anitalenia (you’re so talented omg !)

preface: omg bby is so freaking handsome i don’t know how to put it in words but like his face card is on another level ! (+﹏+) ugh wish he was mine. like look at that sweet smile ?? i think my heart just stopped.

“this one?” your boyfriend, yuki, asks rather cutely, his head cocking. he pointed to the street sign reading oscar’s pastries.

you nodded excitedly. “yep! that’s the store!” smiling back at yuki you grab his hand, his immediately wrapping around yours, and entered the shop.

“woah,” he mutters, brown eyes enlarging at the four-story sweets shop. “this oscar dude must be making so much money.”

you shrug, leading him to your favorite section on the first floor, saying, “perhaps. you should ask him.”

the two of you reached the taffy section, consisting of a large assortment of the sweet candies in the pattern of a rainbow, and you pick up a blue one. you unwrap the parchment paper and pop it in your mouth.

“wait! y-you’re supposed to buy it first, y/n!”

laughing, you simply shrug. “oops!”

yuki clings onto you, arm wrapped around your shoulders, as you make your way to the second floor, this one filled with gummies.

and, to yuki’s horror, you pop another unpaid-for candy into your mouth, this time a long green gummy worm.

“shit. y/n what if they kick us out?” yuki says, trying to hide his excited smile.

you boop his nose with a finger, saying, “maybe we’ll take a field trip to jail?”

yuki grins, never able to get bored with that unpredictable personality of yours. that’s one of the qualities he loved most about you.

after roaming around, you traveled to the third level, where chocolates and caramels filled your senses.

yuki’s grip on your shoulders tightened as a male employee stepped up, asking if you “needed any help.”

with his mouth in a straight line, yuki declined, “no. we’re perfect. her eyes are up here.” yuki pointed up to your eyes, clearly fuming at the employee.

the employee, able to recognize he wasn’t exactly welcome (and a bit embarrassed as well), scattered away to the opposite side of the floor.

you gulped at your boyfriend’s sudden feistiness, wondering how his pretty brown eyes could turn angry so quickly.

you also pondered how his dick would feel inside you.

“is this your favorite section?” yuki asked, noticing the wide smile on your face, yet oblivious to the reason behind it.

with a kiss on his hand you said, “not yet.”

yuki spotted his favorite chocolate, one with a fruity filling, and, with guilty eyes, popped it into his mouth. “mmmm,” he murmured, eyes closed in bliss.

your eyes, meanwhile, widened as your head went wild. the dirty thoughts finally stopped when he opened his eyes, nodding towards the candy, encouraging you to try one.

on the top floor, you and yuki wandered around until landing at the cake section, a boulstorous display of frosting available.

with a soft hum you dip an unused spoon (from the ice cream section you passed earlier) into a pink-colored frosting. “wonder what flavor this is,” you murmur to yourself before placing the doused spoon into your mouth.

you lick the spoon slowly, maintaining eye contact with yuki as you twirl your tongue around the frosting. “mmm,” you say, “so tasty!”

you smirk at yuki’s face, looking like a deer in headlights. “what happened, baby?”

his cheeks warm up, eyes moving between the spoon and your mouth in a silent explanation.

“ahh, i’m sorry. you wanted a taste?” you ask, leaving a ghost caress with your hand on his right cheek.

yuki only stood still, waiting for whatever plan of yours to flourish. it was quite often when you flustered the poor baby, yet he’s never really gotten used to it, always having to resort to the “freezing tactic.”

you pretend to be sad, lips in a pout. “damn, wish i had another spoon.” you step closer to yuki, cocking your head at his intrigued eyes.

with a smile you kiss yuki, prodding your tongue into his mouth and letting the flavor of the frosting reach his tastebuds.

you step away, playfully saying, “take a guess! what’s the flavor?”

yuki shakes his head as if he were in a daze. “um, think it’s, uh straw—wait, i need another taste.” he says the last part with a slight smile, almost as if he cracked the code to a safe or something.

with a planning smile you grab his sweaty hand, leading him to the bathroom.

“you asked me what my favorite section was,” you say, pushing yuki against the bathroom wall and closing the door. “it’s this one.”

you smash your lips onto his, the flavor of chocolate and frosting mixing so well. yuki groans into the kiss, making you only more desperate to deepen the kiss.

with a strong hand yuki grabs your waist, his other one going to your hair. he, just as eager (or, if anything, more so) swipes his tongue inside your mouth.

“comfortable, are we?” you murmur in between kisses, biting down softly on his bottom lip.

“mmmm,” yuki moans softly in response.

you chuckle, letting the man run his fingers through your hair as you lean on him, smashing him against the solid wall. “such a cute boyfriend i have.”

yuki gets shy, looking at the adjacent wall, hands, though, rubbing up and down your waist.

you kiss his neck hard enough to leave marks, aiming for the spots you know the press will find. “how did i get so lucky?”

yuki looks down at you, lovingly, and says, “i’m the lucky one.” he gently guides you to a bench in the large bathroom. “let me thank you?”

taken off guard you raise your eyebrows. “sure, baby. let me know if it’s too much, though, okay?” you knew yuki leaned on the shyer side when it came to intimate acts, so you always made sure he was comfortable with new things.

“okay,” he chirped cutely, making you smile at his innocence.

although the next thing he did was anything far from innocent, grabbing your shorts waistband and tugging it down to your ankles.

“fuck,” you curse, watching the boy leave kisses on the dangerous part between your pussy and thighs.

yuki, a bit concerned, looks up. “does it feel good y/n?”

“baby,” you murmur, a hand going to brush his cheek, “you’re doing great.”

your boyfriend, suddenly confident, moves his kisses to your clothed pussy, a happy grin on his face. his eyes shutter close at the taste of you, eyebrows scrunching in joy at the new taste.

“mm, this my favorite section,” he mumbles against your folds, the vibrations making you even wetter.

feeling hot you take off your shirt and watch as yuki’s eyes go wide.

“perv, don’t start acting like you’ve never seen them before,” you say as-a-matter-of-factly, removing your bra as well.

“i-it’s just, you’re so beautiful, y/n,” yuki says, a bit starstruck. he stares at you as he continues to tease your pussy, kisses all over the sensitive area.

you groan, muttering, “shit. so fucking cute, baby,” which only makes your boyfriend speed up his movements, adding nudges of his nose into the mix.

you grasp onto his hair, saying, “yuki, baby, remember what i said about telling me if it was too much?”

yuki hums, nodding as he became more and more drunk from your pussy.

you tug his dark hair, making him face you, wanting a verbal affirmation from him.

although it gives a different reaction than expected, as yuki groans from the tension in his hair, suddenly saying, “mmm,” his eyes lidded, as he stared into your eyes. “s’pretty, y/n.”

you try to hold it together as yuki’s shame went out the window, purely focused on pleasuring you (or was it tasting your pussy?). the man went down on you again, desperately removing your panties to get deeper in your pussy.

“taste so good, mmm,” yuki moans into your cunt, head bobbing up and down for the sole purpose of licking you dry.

you lean your head against the wall as yuki gently inserts a finger into you, feeling your gummy walls with wonder.

he licks his finger with a smile, and, having an idea, lowers his mouth against your hole.

yuki sends his tongue into you, causing your body to jerk at the sudden change.

you can’t help but quietly moan as yuki learns to hit all the right places, your eyes rolling back in estacy.

yuki’s desperate tongue fucks you to heaven. you grip his hair tighter, needing to have some support.

“mmm, y/nnn,” yuki whines, still fucking your pussy deliciously. “so hard right nowww.”

you pant out a laugh. “from the hair pulling, hmm, baby?”

“mmhmmm.”

fuck. the vibrations along with his tongue were just too much. you start rocking your hips, feeling your release coming, saying to your pretty boy, “be a good boy and i’ll help you?”

pleasantly surprised, yuki hums, “please, mommy.”

and with that nickname your eyes scrunch, rocking your hips sloppily against yuki’s cute face as you squirt all over it, surprising him in the process.

“baby’s never seen a girl squirt before?” you ask him in between fast breaths with a hint of teasing.

yuki shakes his head, entranced at your spasming pussy while he cleaned the cum off his face.

“should we see if guys squirt as well?” you half-joke, guiding your boy up gently by his arms.

“wanna taste you again, though!” yuki mumbles, licking his drenched fingers.

you scoff and, with a push, force him to fall onto the bench, back on the brown wood, his eyes large.

you straddle his lean hips, murmuring against his jaw while leaving kisses, “it’s my turn now.”

[the-lone-writer94]

We'll Meet Again (Part 7)

Rex Brown x Female Reader

Summary: Now that the secret is out, it seems like you and Rex are finally at peace... or so you thought.

Age rating: 18+ *Mature content and drug use*

Word count: 3,371 

Scarlet snatched the poster before me and crumpled it up into a ball before she flung it across the room. 

“Hey,” I protested. 

“You’ve been staring at that all day and it’s driving me crazy!” Scarlet whined, as she ran her fingers through her hair. She then continued to focus on unboxing the stack of records as she placed them on the shelves. 

I shifted in my position as I grabbed onto the counter in hopes to aid my balance. “I can’t believe Billy is seriously kicking me out just cause I’m with Rex.” 

Scarlet sighed. “Lead singers, huh.” 

“It’s just totally unfair man,” I groaned. 

“You’ll find another band.” She shrugged. 

“Ugh- all the other bands in town are shit,” I commented, “seriously, you should have seen some of the ones that I’ve auditioned for.”

“So form your own.” 

I shook my head. “I tried, but they’re either too afraid to cross Billy.” 

Scarlet paused as she wiped her hands against her denim shorts and stepped towards the counter. “Look, tonight after Pantera’s show we’re all gonna party at the Abbott house. We’ll get drunk, and it’s gonna be a good time.” 

I stared at Scarlet. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“That’s the spirit.” She said sarcastically. 

I scoffed. “I still need to figure out this band thing… I can’t not be playing, it’s been a week and it’s driving me insane.” 

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah… it’ll be fine, come on. Chill.” 

“Fine,” I sighed. 

“So… you and Rex, huh?” Scarlet cocked her head to the side, and smirked. “Tell me, is his hair down there as pretty as on the top of his head?” 

“Scarlet!” I gasped, as I felt my cheeks flush. 

“What? I’m curious.” Scarlet commented, then shrugged and added, “fine, don’t tell me.” 

I huffed. “Let’s just say his natural hair color is a darker brown.” 

“I knew he dyed his hair,” Scarlet hissed, “I figured that guy can’t have everything. With those pretty puppy dog eyes and golden locks.” 

I shook my head. “Alright, can we talk about something else, please?” 

—-------

The adrenaline I had caught from Pantera’s show remained lodged in my veins. The images constantly flashed in my mind, the way Terry’s voice gripped me, Dime’s fingers moved as the speed as light and the heavy beats which emerged from Vinnie’s drum set. But lastly, the way Rex played, the energy he had possessed, and the way his hand slid up and down against the neck of the bass. 

After the show had ended, we had dispersed to make our way towards the Abbott house, which was commonly known as the party house. Whilst I had heard stories from Scarlet, I had never stepped foot into it. 

Scarlet pulled up by the driveway, a row of cars had already formed. The garage door was swung wide open with a cluster of people surrounding it. The roaring sound of heavy metal seeped out from the speakers. 

Just when I was about to get out of the car, Scarlet tapped my arm. I spun to face her as she drew out a row of condoms from her purse. 

“Dude, what the hell?” I yelled. 

“What? You never know.” 

“Why do you have so many?” 

Scarlet shrugged. “Take some.” 

I stared at her, unable to conjure up the words. “I think I’m good.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Scarlet shoved them back into her purse. “Alright, well don’t come crying to me later.” 

My brows furrowed, as I stalked out of the car and stepped around. I joined Scarlet by her side and we made our way towards the Abbott house. 

The moment we reached the garage, the stench of beer and sweat lingered in the air. I watched the unfamiliar faces before me scattered around. The garage was where the band practiced, with their instruments and amps propped up in the corner. Posters of half naked girls were matted against the walls, and a huge tapestry of the band’s logo was hung up behind Vinnie’s drum set. I managed to spot the wonky lines on the tapestry and the image of the boys sitting around and painting it entered my mind. 

I followed Scarlet on her heels as she led the way towards the kitchen, where we reached the counter and picked up two beers, which she handed one to me. 

In the distance I heard a loud bang, which caused me to jump. “What was that?” I asked. 

“Just the boys doing their usual.” Scarlet said and shrugged. 

Just then, I watched as Rex, Dime, Terry and Vince stalked towards me. They all burst into laughter in unison. 

“Dude, that was so cool.” Terry exclaimed. 

“I think next time we oughta blow those fireworks out of Vinnie’s ass.” Dime suggested. 

“Shut up, asshole!” Vinnie said as he playfully lifted Dime over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing and set him back down. 

“Hey baby,” Rex said as he wrapped his arm around me and planted a kiss on my lips. 

“Hey.” I responded. 

“You’re the chick who’s in that band with Billy?” Terry asked. 

Rex shot him a cold stare. “Guys.” He warned. 

“No, no. It’s fine,” I said and added, “yep that was me.” 

The others burst into laughter again. “Oh my god, Billy is a psycho, dude.” Dime commented. 

“Right? He makes Steven Tyler look like Mother Teresa.” Vinnie said. 

I pressed my lips together. Whilst I was still bitter for Billy kicking me out of the band, I had always admired Billy’s drive. “Well, sure, he’s dramatic… but he’s actually a great lead singer.” 

“You don’t have to be so nice about him.” Terry added. 

“Guys, come on- let’s drop it.” Rex said. 

Vinnie cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Well, I don’t know about you A-Holes but I’m gonna get wasted now.” He exclaimed as he grabbed a six pack of beer and tucked it underneath his armpit, before he spun around and stalked off. 

“Hey, wait man- I paid for those beers!” Terry argued as he chased after Vinnie. 

“Actually, I’ve got a joint.” Dime said, as he drew it out from his jeans pocket. 

Scarlet stepped forward and snatched it from him. “And you waited until now to tell us.” Dime shrugged, as Scarlet spun around to face us as she raised the joint in the air. “Shall we?” 

We remained huddled on the couch in the living room, forming our own separate club from the rest of the party. Vinnie and Terry were nowhere to be seen, meanwhile, Dime, Rex, Scarlet and I remained motionless and scattered on the couch. Whilst weed wasn’t exactly my thing, I had taken one hit before passing it back, and had settled on consuming alcohol. 

My mind had begun to cloud and my hearing had seemed to drain out most of the sounds which had surrounded me. The feeling of weightlessness had consumed me. 

“I think I might try wearing those scarves like Steven Tyler does.” Dime commented, his eyes fixated upon the TV before him that wasn’t on. 

“Dude… no,” Rex added, his words began to slur. 

“You should do it too!” Dime added, “you know you wanna man. Remember when you said you refused to put on spandex, well,” he said and gestured to Rex. 

“You guys pressured me into wearing spandex, man.” Rex argued. 

“I think it looks good on you.” I commented, as Rex tilted his head to face me. I closed the gap between us and planted a kiss on his lips. 

Dime and Scarlet made oooh sounds, which I scoffed and raised my middle finger at them. “I like a guy with spandex.” Scarlet added. 

“Really?” Dime asked, as he raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, you can see everything.” Scarlet teased, as her gaze scanned Dime up and down, which caused him to avert his eyes elsewhere. 

I shifted in my position to face Rex, my legs pressed against his. It was then that I noticed he hadn’t changed out of his stage clothes. He wore tight charcoal gray spandex that had a faint leopard print, which he had placed a chunky leather belt across his waist, paired with a silky material black shirt with the top few buttons undid. 

My fingers trailed along his chest, before my hand reached up towards the side of his face, gently angling him to face me as I planted a kiss on his lips. Then my fingers found its way into his hair as I deepened the kiss. 

“Jeez, get a room, you two.” Scarlet scoffed as she chucked an empty beer can at us. 

Rex and I drew away from each other. “Hey!” I retorted, then added, “but yes we will.” I said as I grabbed Rex by the hand and pulled him up. 

“Woah,” he said, as he stumbled to find his balance. 

Dime and Scarlet once again made ooh noises. “You can use my room, man.” Dime added, and laughed. 

I smirked at him, whilst I tried to guide Rex away. 

“Oh, Rex if you ever want to get your hair dyed just tell me-” Scarlet yelled. 

“What? I don’t dye my hair-” Rex stuttered. 

“Yeah sure,” Scarlet added and snickered beneath her breath. 

Rex turned his attention to me, and I responded,“she’s drunk.” 

We stalked through the house as I navigated my way up the stairs, before we reached a long narrow hallway. A floral print wallpaper was plastered surrounding us, filled with framed photographs, the faces staring directly at us. 

“Where’s Dime’s room?” I asked. 

“Down here.” Rex added, as I followed him on his heels, before I tripped over myself and tried to find my balance. “Are you alright?” 

I snickered. “Shit, I’m so drunk.” My words began to slur. 

“Me too.” Rex commented and chuckled. 

We managed to stumble to the room at the end of the hallway, as Rex pushed open the door I was immediately hit with the whiff of sweat infused with a lingering smell of cigarette smoke. Posters had covered every inch of Dime’s bedroom, his bed was obviously unmade, with piles of clothes scattered across the ground. 

“I’ll open a window.” Rex commented as he trudged across the room and tugged at the window, as he freed it open which allowed a gentle breeze to seep into the bedroom. “So, what do you wanna do?” Rex asked. 

I smirked and stepped towards him, as I wrapped my arms around him. “Oh, I think you know.” I said before I pushed him down onto the bed. 

I knelt down in front of him as my hand slithered up his legs and paused over his belt. “Oh,” he murmured. I gazed at him through my eyelashes as I unhooked his belt. “You don’t- hmm-” he said, and paused. 

“You’ve been such a good boy.” I teased, as my hand grazed over the bulge in his pants. 

Rex’s breathing quickened as he threw his head back. His hands knotted in my hair as he grabbed a fistful and tugged on it. I released a gasp, as he said, “you’re always pulling on mine.” He smirked. 

My hand continued to stroke Rex’s crotch as I watched his breathing quicken, his fingers grabbed and tugged at my hair. “Oh god.” He muttered beneath his breath as he closed his eyes and threw his head back. 

Slowly, I pulled his pants down exposing his hardened cock, before I lowered my mouth down onto him, as my tongue slid across his length. Rex squirmed beneath my touch, as I placed my mouth onto him and went down and up, then up and down again. I paused, before my tongue flicked in circular motions on the head of his length. 

Rex’s grip tightened, as his lips pressed together and his chest heaved. “Fuck.” He hissed, as his fingers ran through my hair as he pulled my hair back and held it tight into a ponytail. 

He pushed my head against him as I felt him quiver, before he released the grip on my hair and I wiped the corners of my mouth. Just then Rex held me in my arms as he hoisted me up as I straddled him. Our lips collided into each other as my hands ran across his neck and then his chest as I unbuttoned his shirt. 

Suddenly the image of Scarlet pulling out a row of condoms out of her purse, and the realization had hit me that I didn’t have any on me. I drew away from Rex. “Shit, you got a rubber?” I asked. 

“Hmm, I think Dime keeps them in the drawer over there,” Rex said.

I removed myself from him as I stalked towards Dime’s nightstand. My hand paused on the wooden knob, somehow afraid of what I may uncover. Hurriedly, I pulled the drawer open as I rummaged through several dirty magazines, loose coins and other junk. Right in the bottom, I found a pack of unopened condoms, and tore open the box. 

“Either he goes through them super quick, or he’s never opened them before.” I commented, as I chucked them back into the drawer. 

“He’s probably waiting for Scarlet,” Rex scoffed. 

“Scarlet?” 

“Yeah, Dime’s had a crush on her since like the ninth grade.” 

“I didn’t know that.” I said and cocked my head to the side, then shook my head. “Anyway, where were we,” I added, as I stepped back to Rex and straddled him. 

He smiled at me as I lowered my head and kissed him again, he immediately deepened the kiss, as my lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside, both of us feeling the urgency and passion. It wasn’t long before I tore apart Rex’s shirt and cast it aside, as he hurriedly removed his pants. He sat up as his hands grabbed at my breasts, as he pulled down my top exposing myself to him. He placed his head in between my breasts before he pushed them together, then he drew away and placed his mouth over my nipple, his teeth gently tugging at it. 

I moaned, as my fingers found its way knotted into his hair, pushing his head closer towards me. Just then, Rex’s hands slithered down my back as he cupped my ass and pulled me down with him. He grabbed a fistful of my hair as he nuzzled his face into the side of my neck. 

“Fuck me, now.” I yearned for him. 

Rex slipped the rubber onto himself, as I then lowered myself onto him as I felt him inside of me. Rex’s breathing quickened, as his hands held onto my hips, slowly my hips moved. Rex closed his eyes and he pressed his lips together. 

I continued to ride back and forth, as I found my momentum and the bed beneath us began to creak. My fingers gripped down onto Rex’s chest, the sweat had begun to form and had matted against his body. Rex reached up as he grabbed my breasts, squeezing them down, before his fingers twirled in my hair and pulled me down towards him, as he grunted into my neck. Whilst his other hand found its way to my ass as he slapped down onto it hard, I flinched as my hips continued to move. 

“Do it again.” I hissed. 

Rex’s hand collided against my ass once again, as I moaned into him, before he slapped me several more times. I continued to ride him, as I watched Rex grunt beneath me, his hands grabbed at my breasts, before I felt the pleasure possess us both. 

I sunk down onto him, our sweaty bodies plastered against each other, sweat matted against my hair. As he brushed it aside and planted a kiss on my forehead, I could still hear his heartbeat palpitating beneath me, as we fought to catch our breaths. 

We continued to lay there, as we stared at Dime’s ceiling that had a poster of Farrah Fawcett, and I immediately giggled at the image. 

“I should probably head back home.” I said, not wanting to leave. 

“Do you have to?” 

“Yeah,” I groaned, “my mom’s still mad that I didn’t come home and not call the other night.” 

“Alright.” Rex said and frowned, “let me walk you back though.” 

—--------

Once Rex and I had gotten back into our clothes, we found ourselves strolling down the neighborhood under the black abyss of the night sky. 

We stalked on the empty roads hand in hand, and I saw the familiar looking house in the distance. My heart sank, as I knew this moment alone with Rex would end. 

As we reached my house, we paused and I wrapped my arms around Rex. “I don’t want to go in.” I whined. 

He released a low chuckle beneath his breath. “I don’t want you to go too, but I’ll see you in the morning.” 

I groaned. “I guess so.” 

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” 

“Sure, my mom’s probably asleep.” 

We ascended the steps before I drew out my key from my pocket and quietly slipped it into the lock. However, just when I was about to turn it, the door swung wide open. 

To my dismay, my mother stood in the door, as if she were guarding it. My gaze looked over her expression, and I knew that something wasn’t right. Her brows furrowed, and her jaw was clenched. 

“Mom, hey, you’re up?” I said. 

“Hey, hmm… Mrs-” Rex stuttered. 

“Get inside,” my mom ordered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said to Rex, as I turned to him. 

“Yeah, see you.” He said, as he reluctantly kissed me on the cheek instead, before he stalked off. 

My mom stepped aside, and allowed me to cross over the threshold. “I know… I should have called, I’m sorry.” I immediately said, the lines I had constantly spoken had failed to give any meaning to me anymore. 

My mom cleared her throat. “Do I even want to ask about his black eye?” 

I released a nervous chuckle. “Oh, hmm- it was an accident he had.” 

“Uh huh,” she said, and then added, “we need to talk.” 

“Oh,” I responded, as I rubbed my eyes, “well, can it wait… I’m really tired.” 

“I’ll bet you are,” she growled, and placed her hands on her hips, “with all this partying you’re doing with Scarlet and gallivanting with that boy.” She spat in disgust. “This ends now.” 

“Oh come on, it's summer. I’m allowed to have a little fun.” 

My mom sighed. “The only reason why you’re here and not in college is because of the deal you made with us. We allowed you to follow your dreams of being in a band, and because you were on the way to getting signed, but now that I hear you’ve been kicked out of that band.” 

“Look, it’s a really long story… yes, there was an issue with Billy, but I’m trying really hard to find another,” I explained, then added, “actually, I’m gonna form my own.” 

My mom shook her head. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” she challenged, “you weren’t able to hold up your end, so, you’re going back to California and enrolling into school.” 

The words rang in my ears. “What? Woah, no!” I protested, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes you are. You’re going back to California, that was the deal.” 

“Be reasonable mom, just because I got kicked out of the band doesn’t mean that my life is over here.”

“I know exactly why you want to stay,” she hissed, “that boy. I’m not going to let you throw your life away for him.” 

“You don’t even know Rex, how can you judge him?” 

My mom scoffed. “Believe me. I know boys like him. He’ll only break your heart.” She sighed, her face suddenly softening, “I know you think I’m a monster for doing this, but I only want what’s best for you.”

My chest ached, as I tried to swallow back the tears. Images flashed in my mind of my time with Rex, knowing that it was about to be cut short. 

“I’ve bought your plane ticket. You leave in the morning.” My mom ordered.

[literaila]

dichotomy 

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: even though you woul like to refuse his help, peter is careful and sweet. he’ll take care of you. 

warnings: fluff, illness, medicine. and, you know, peter. 

a/n: part one. (if you’ve seen this before no you haven’t)

*

perhaps this was supposed to feel terrifying. 

the trickle of water, the incessant tragedy, flowing down your back in an incandescent reminder of where you were. 

perhaps you were supposed to be afraid, should've been. 

the honeysuckle air, a golden aura invading your senses crippling the so certain self-preservation that used to rest itself on the tip of your chest. 

maybe you should've been scared by the unfamiliarity; the slightest nod towards you, the tiniest smile invading a sullen face. 

there were so many things, so many possibilities hidden under a special pair of eyelids. 

how glorifying it was to finally see. 

to look around and feel nothing but the surety, the confidence that this was it. 

to see the colors without all the spots. 

to know so many things you could never understand. to comprehend insanity perfectly. 

you really should've been terrified. 

there was nothing usual here. nothing to point you in any good direction. 

but you'd never claimed to follow a set path. 

you could hear birds, whistling. 

*

if there's anything to be thankful for, it's the golden-cast hue of sympathetic eyes as they look upon you. 

not that you appreciate it in the slightest. 

you don't need his pity. 

but, you don't have time to protest his eyes, because a stricken fond look appears on his face. 

"peter," you say, almost warning him. 

"you look terrible." 

he says it admirably, as if he weren't insulting you. 

you frown. 

he only rubs his thumb across your cheek, appreciating you in some creepy, unbelievably adorable way. 

"that's rude," you tell him, trying to sit up on the bed, making room for him to sit down next to you. he does so willingly. 

his hands are rough, calloused as they cradle your head. 

he's so warm. it's disgusting. 

"you're warm," he frowns then, without losing the insane look in his eyes. brings a hand up to your forehead. the frown increases. 

it's a green flag. you've won. 

"i feel freezing," you do make an effort to keep the smirk off of your face. 

efforts are so often futile. 

"you can just tell me if you want to cuddle," peter promises, looking into your eyes once again. 

his brown is so irritatingly beautiful. 

"ugh, gross." 

and then you lay down again, turning to your side so that he can't look at you anymore. 

some part of you feels embarrassed. and you know--you know--that you shouldn't. it's obvious in the sickeningly sweet way peter's still looking at you, in his warm hands and rough gentleness. 

it's not embarrassing to be sick. 

it's human. 

and yet, there's something so trivial about it. it makes you want to crawl under the covers and tell your boyfriend to go away for at least a week until you rejuvenate yourself into something slightly more alive. 

more human. 

but peter hasn't mastered the art of reading minds. he simply moves from his place on the bed--you can hear him kicking off his shoes--and walks around to the other side--your eyes wide open because his presence fills you with something very close to energy--and sits down again. 

right next to you. 

still looking so very sweet. 

"one," he says, smiling. "i'm offended. you love cuddling. two, have you been drinking water?" 

"you probably shouldn't get so close to me," you nod to emphasize. "i'm diseased. spiders might be allergic." 

"that doesn't even make sense." 

"i'm dying, peter parker, and you don't want your last memories of me to be on my death bed." 

it's a futile attempt because both of you know that he's not going to leave. 

there's a pause, and then: "if you were actually dying i wouldn't leave your side for a moment." although you can hear the sarcasm in his voice, his brow still furrows. 

a bit distraught at the prospect. 

"not even once?" you ask. 

peter, with half a smirk, leans down, his nose brushing against yours. "never." 

you want to drink in his skin. you want to kiss him until neither of you can breathe and the world has fallen at your feet. 

you want to keep him from getting sick. 

so you push him away, albeit with a smile. 

he stares at you for a moment, not bothering to protest, and pretends to think. "though, i'm sure i could figure out some way to save you, whatever it is." 

"are you referencing magic?" 

you say it with the excitement of a toddler. peter rolls his eyes. "science." 

"how boring." 

there is something familiar about his eyes. something so familiar about this moment, this breathtakingly powerful exhaustion that threatens to overcome your body. 

you're not really that sick. 

"you didn't answer my question." 

you roll your eyes. "i had a gatorade at approximately 1400 hours, doctor. " 

"that was three hours ago." 

"it was a big gatorade. i'm dying. aid me." 

"when was the last time you took any medicine?" 

you smile at him, bigger than you have all day. "when i drank the gatorade." 

"i'm bringing you nyquil." 

"you're bold for assuming that i just have nyquil in my house, peter." 

and of course, he only smiles, bringing his hand down to craddle your face again--

briefly. it reminds you of something else. some kind of intimacy that you've missed for so long. it feels like a gentle reminder, a roaring fact that he's there, that he's with you, that he cares, despite whatever guilt swims around your insides, infecting every inch of you. 

briefly, a memory flashes behind your eyes. 

and then it's gone, and so is his hand. 

he's still smiling at you. 

"i know you, you know," he says. "i stopped at the pharmacy before i came over." 

something pokes at your heart. 

"did you get more gatorade?" 

peter laughs, standing up. "course." 

*

"how mad would you be if i kissed you?" 

peter's eyes are so perfectly intimidating. 

he sees beyond the careful sculpture of your face. he looks at your eyes, and the sullen-like infraction of your nose, at the blemishes and scars--all the bad, all the good--and he just knows. 

he's unrelentingly observant. 

still. "on a scale from one to ten?" you ask. 

he nods, a soft smile as he plays with your fingers. 

you've drunk all the water, taken all the medicine. you've completely embarrassed yourself in sneezes and coughed until peter actually looked concerned. 

and yet here he sits, looking so perfectly content. 

it's entirely unfair. 

"hmm," you say, pretending to think. "a million." 

he barely looks at you. "you know, i don't think you can get me sick." 

"it's shocking to me that you can think in the first place." 

his eyes meet yours, something like defiance. "mean." 

you look away, feign apathy. "oh i suppose, peter," you say, curling the words on your lips as he brings your hand up to his own. it tickles, but not enough to break you. "as long as you think it'll all be fine. and i guess if you think neither of us will die of disease, then go right ahead-"

peter's smiling, trying to get you to look back at him. you barely notice when he tilts your head back towards him in the simplest of gestures. 

"i'm going to kiss you now," he says, but you're not listening. 

"-and if you think we should go get matching spider tattoos right now, then we have to, because as long as you think-" 

he interrupts you in the cruelest of ways. 

his lips are soft, a particular brand of torture. 

it's barely three seconds, barely one peck and pull and push you away, but it's just enough to give you the need to gasp for air. it's just enough to be too much. 

you're so hesitant to let him go. 

so scared to finally breathe. so afraid to let it go.

you push him away. "you're going to get sick, peter." 

he's so close, you can feel his breath on your philtrum. he's so close, he's melting his smiles into you. 

"it's worth it," he promises you in a bout of stupidity. 

"not to me," you insist, trying to get him to move even further back. 

but he's peter, and so he doesn't even budge. 

you sigh, hands right against his chest--no, you're not paying attention to that, nor the heat flooding your body. "if you get sick i'm going to have to nurse you back to health."

luckily, peter laughs, taking your hands. "oh, that's what this is about?" 

"i'm busy, peter," you whine. 

"so unappreciative," he tsks, shaking his head. 

you've been sitting together on your bed for the past hour. 

"you literally just brought me gatorade." 

"and medicine." 

"and medicine. do you want me to venmo you?" 

peter scoffs. "please." 

he moves then, seeming to realize what you had moments before, getting up from the spot he'd dug out for himself and standing just a bit above you. 

it might be scary. it's really just cute. 

he's barely smiling. "will you move over?" 

"uncomfortable?" 

"we're cuddling. you're sick." 

you hum. "are you going to make me do this when you're sick?" 

peter doesn't answer, he's trying to hide his smile, trying not to stare at you with those unappreciative, hopeless eyes. 

you're thankful for that if anything. grateful for his hesitance, even now. 

it's a brief tether to reality. 

a wake-up call. 

he doesn't answer, instead, gestures his head to the side, gently moving you away from the edge of the bed. 

you don't protest. maybe it's the lack of energy, but you really do love cuddling.

love to tie yourself down. 

peter moves in right next to you, sweatshirt bunching at his waist, and opens his arms, making room for you in the solace of his embrace. 

you go oh so willingly. 

he's warm--he's always warm, it's a quirk--and you're freezing. 

that's your excuse for melting your skin together until you can feel nothing but him. 

it's so very simple, to be welded here. 

there are only satisfying burns. 

only the golden aura of peter, all his acuity punched into your chest. you love it. 

"comfortable?" he asks, only slightly mocking you. 

"this is terrible."

"i know," you feel him nod his head against yours. you're curled up into his neck, smelling the flowers. 

"the worst," you say, again. 

"i know," peter repeats. 

you think you can feel him smiling. 

and there's just a brief moment, guilt, flowing into your skin. 

ruining the limbs you'd glued together. 

"thank you," you say, just loud enough for peter to hear. "i didn't say it. thank you." 

"you don't have to thank me." 

but you shake your head, cuddle closer to him.

this is peace, this is agony. 

"i can't remember the last time anyone took care of me when i was sick." 

it's not really a lie. 

peter sighs, holds you tighter. "i don't like it when you're sick." 

you move, back letting a smile tease at your lips, your eyes meet his. "it's not so bad," you tell him. 

"i kinda think you might be faking." 

you cough, just to prove him wrong. 

he laughs, and you can feel the vibration right in your core. 

"don't worry," you say, voice groggy. "you'll get me back." 

peter just nods, brown eyes so soft on yours. 

his presence is comfort you might've known, just once. 

or twice. 

you crave more. more energy, more smiles, more laughter, more perfection--carved out in the subtlest of hearts. 

"i'll take care of you." 

peter promises things. so many things you can't begin to comprehend, can't begin to believe. 

"me too," you say. 

and it's enough. for now. 

*

how nice it is to open your eyes. 

how perfectly perfect is this? 

*

part two. 

my masterlist here. 

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 9,067 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: The prison Warnings: mentions of anxiety, language Summary: Y/N falls ill on a run and Daryl worries about what's wrong.

Your name: submit What is this?

You leaned back against the chain link fence as Daryl pulled out the bolt cutters and cut the chain around the gate. “Okay. Umm… canned pears,” you said, glancing over at the archer. He peered up at you through his curtain of wavy brown hair.

“Pears? Nah. Peaches.”

You straightened up as he heaved the gate open. “I prefer pears.”

“Canned pears are disgusting,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Fine! If we find some, more for me!” you said. He slung his crossbow back over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit and started to lead the way toward the building. You followed just slightly behind him, fingering the hilt of your knife.

When you reached the small loading dock, Daryl gave you a serious glance and set down his duffel bag. He pulled the bolt cutters out again. You nodded and he banged them harshly on the closed overhead door. You both strained your hearing after the metal rattling ceased. Nothing. It was silent. You grinned at him.

“Well, that’s good news,” you said, relaxing slightly.

“There could still be some in there stuck somewhere. Don’t let your guard down,” he said, clipping the lock off the mechanism keeping the door shut.

“You know I don’t let my guard down,” you countered.

“Mmm,” he hummed, focused on the task at hand. He replaced the bolt cutters in the duffel and checked the magazine of his pistol before sliding it back into the holster at his side.

“French-cut green beans,” you said suddenly.

His blue eyes shot back up to your face. “Green beans?” he repeated. “And what the hell does ‘French-cut’ mean?”

You laughed. “They’re, like, thin sliced lengthwise. Julienne cut.”

Daryl just kept staring at you like you were nuts. “Juli-what? Green beans,” he said again. You grinned. “I love canned green beans! Maybe even more than fresh ones… although I don’t think that’s true anymore since you can’t find fresh anything these days…”

He let out a scoff of a laugh and shook his head, turning back to his crossbow and fitting a bolt into the flight groove. “Yer nuts, ya know that?”

“You like it,” you said, lifting your boot and poking the toe into his butt. It elicited the exact response you wanted, which was a look he meant to be stern, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave away his mutual amusement.

“Sometimes,” he said, straightening up.

“Well, what are you hoping we find in there? Besides canned peaches.”

He shrugged. “I dunno.” He reached for the door latch, getting ready to heave it open.

Your hand shot out and landed on his arm, stopping him. “Nuh uh! That’s not a good answer!”

He sighed, taking in your insistent and expectant expression. “How ‘bout a giant jar of garlic dill pickles?”

You nodded, pleased with his answer. “Much better. Okay. Ready,” you said, unsheathing your knife. Daryl took in the playful light that lingered in your eyes as you readied yourself for whatever you were about to find inside.

He heaved the overhead door open and the two of you stepped into the dim shipment receiving area, shoulder to shoulder. You both clicked on your flashlights and swept them over the room. Daryl led the way to a door in the far wall. “Bet this goes to the storage area,” he said quietly. You nodded, a little anxious, shifting your weight from one hip to the other.

Daryl knocked loudly on the door and again you both strained your hearing, listening for the tell-tale moaning and clawing of the dead. It was intensely quiet. You and Daryl exchanged a look and he reached for the door handle. You gave him a nod and he pushed into the next room.

You were hoping to find the stock of emergency supplies that had been put together shortly before the outbreak became all-consuming. They were to be sent as hurricane relief. But instead of the hoped-for stockpile, you found a mostly empty stockroom instead.

“Shit.” You stepped farther inside and kicked at a piece of discarded shrink wrap on the floor. “I guess someone else heard the same tip we did,” you said, shining your light over the empty shelves.

“Mmm. Or got real damn lucky,” Daryl said, his crossbow still raised. His light illuminating a nearby doorway into the main store area. “C’mon. Let’s just check out here.”

You followed behind him with your flashlight up and you hadn’t moved too far into the room before a wall of horrendous odor hit you. “Oh my God,” you said, pressing a hand over your nose and mouth.

Daryl’s light landed on the decomposing scattered bodies of walkers. “Somebody cleared the place out,” he said, crouching down to look at the inflicted wounds. “They’re all shot.”

“Oh, fuck,” you murmured, gagging at the smell. You doubled over and heaved a few breaths, struggling to stop the bile that was suddenly churning in your stomach.

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder, climbing to his feet when he saw how pale you looked. There were beads of sweat across your forehead. “Ya alright?” he asked, rushing over to you, overwhelmed with concern. He gently rubbed your back.

You were afraid if you spoke you were going to vomit so you waved a hand at him and did your best to steel yourself. When you felt like you could talk, you tried to straighten up. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Really. It’s just the smell—Ugh, it hit me hard. I think I just need some air…”

Daryl was staring at you with a deeply furrowed brow. “Ya sure?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” You felt another wave of nausea and shut your eyes against it. “I’ll be outside… Just finish looking around in here and I’ll—I’ll meet you out back,” you said. Daryl sweetly grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. You met his blue eyes and saw they were darkened with concern. “I’m okay.”

The archer watched you retreat out into the fresh air, puzzled over the situation. He’d never seen you react to the smell of rotting bodies or gore that way. Hell, he’d seen you open up a walker’s stomach to check for meal contents. He’d seen you put down countless numbers of dead ones with an unhesitating knife to the skull. Just then he heard the unmistakable sound of you retching outside.

“Y/N?” He rushed outside to see you doubled over on the pavement a short distance from the door.

You straightened up at the sound of his bootsteps, your knees feeling a little shaky.

“You’re sick,” he said, a shadow growing on his face. “We gotta go. Get ya home.”

You looked miserable. “It’s just a stomach thing. It’s not a big deal,” you said, pulling out your water and rinsing out your mouth.

“Maybe it’s somethin’ ya ate. What’d ya have this mornin’?” he asked with anxiety.

You shook your head. “Can’t be that.”

“Food poisonin’? Why not?”

“Because I didn’t have anything,” you said, shoving your canteen back in your bag. “Did you finish up in there?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, but don’t matter. I’m sure whoever put down all those walkers cleaned it out. Ain’t nothin’ gonna be in there anyway. C’mon. Let’s just get ya home,” he said, taking your pack from you and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Daryl, we came all this way. Don’t you want to—”

“Nah. What I want is to get ya home. You’re sick. C’mon,” he insisted. His face was clouded with worry as you wiped a shaky hand over your brow, surprised at the clamminess of your own skin.

You nodded. “Okay. Alright.”

You were still a little nauseous the whole drive back to the prison. You had the window down so the fresh air was on your face which helped some, but the churning in your stomach never really stopped. Daryl kept glancing over at you the whole time he was driving, checking the color of your face, watching carefully for any sign that you were worsening.

He reached over and rested his hand on your knee. You caught his blue eyes and smiled weakly. “Don’t look so worried. It’s nothing. Probably just the stagnant air in there or something,” you said, trying to reassure him.

He wasn’t convinced, but he nodded.

He felt better as soon as he had you back behind the safe walls of the prison. His hand rested lightly on your lower back as you both headed up toward the main building. Daryl spotted Hershel and Carol in the yard and stopped short. “Hey—I’m gonna grab Hershel to come take a look at ya. Go on and lay down,” he said, inclining his chin toward the building.

“I’m fine,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’re really making too much of this,” you said.

“Maybe. But better safe than sorry,” he said.

You gave him a weak smile and nodded, conceding to his sweet concern. “See you in a few?”

He nodded, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze before he jogged off toward Hershel.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at the space the two of you had claimed, Hershel and Carol in tow. You were laying on the mattress with his poncho draped over you. You looked tired, but Daryl was relieved to see that some of the color looked like it had come back into your face.

Hershel pulled up a chair as you sat up. “Feeling a bit under the weather? Let’s see if you’ve got a fever. After having kids, every parent turns into a human thermometer,” he said. He pressed a hand to your forehead. “No fever. Any other symptoms? Headache? Weakness? Feeling dizzy?”

You shook your head. “No. A bit tired. And just had some nausea.”

“She was pale and clammy before,” Daryl drawled, watching with worry. “She looks better now.”

Hershel nodded. “I see.”

“Really, I think it was just the smell of those rotting walkers. The air in there was heavy with decomp. It was like I could frickin’ taste it. Ugh, it was horrible,” you said. Your stomach turned again a little as you thought about it and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Hershel nodded. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” Hershel said.

Daryl shifted. “Ya sure?” the archer pressed him.

“I’m sure. Why don’t you go on and help Rick with that new water line? We’ll just get her some water and something to eat. Make sure she rests. But I don’t think there’s anything troubling.”

Daryl considered you for a moment and you gave him a smile. He seemed to feel reassured and he nodded. “Alright.” He crossed the space to you quickly and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, giving you one more parting glance. You smiled at him again and watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

“So, I’m okay?” you asked, adjusting Daryl’s poncho over your lap. You watched Hershel and Carol exchange a look. You stomach twisted. “What? What is it?”

“It was the smell of the walkers that set off the nausea?” Carol asked.

“Yeah…” You stared at the two of them, perplexed. “What, you’re surprised that a bunch of rotting corpses in a closed-up store with no ventilation made me puke?”

“Well… a little, to be honest,” Hershel said gently.

You gave him a questioning look and then stared at Carol.

“We’re not saying that isn’t understandable. It’s just that you have never reacted that way before. And we’ve all seen you deal with rotting corpses before plenty of times,” Carol said. “You’ve never gotten sick.”

“I don’t get what you’re driving at. So, maybe I have a little stomach virus or something?” you said. “Is something wrong with me?”

“No. No, honey,” Carol said, grabbing your hand. She took a breath, her eyes searching your face. “Y/N, could you be… pregnant?”

You froze, a sudden, struck expression on your face. The doctor and Carol watched your eyes go a little round and wide, flitting back and forth as your mind whirred, like you were searching for the answer in the air over their shoulders. “Oh my God.”

Hershel and Carol watched your reaction carefully. You were as still as a stone statue.

“Oh my God,” you said again. “I didn’t even—” You shook your head slightly. “I didn’t realize, but—” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “Between never having enough to eat and the constant stress, I didn’t even notice that I—I mean, it’s not like we’ve been trying.”

“So, I’ll take that as a maybe,” Hershel said nodding. There was a spark in his eye as he peered at you kindly. “We’ll see about getting you a test.”

You looked back at Carol, your mouth dropping open and your eyes a little frantic. “Carol, what do I—? Daryl… He—" If it was true, you had no idea how the archer would react. Hell, at that moment you didn’t even know how you would react.

She gave you a concerned smile and squeezed your hand between her palms. “Let’s just take this a step at a time,” she said gently. “Okay?”

You gulped and nodded, suddenly reeling with anxiety. “Okay. Okay…”

Hershel climbed to his feet. “You rest. Carol and I will figure out getting a test for you. Probably just ask Glenn to make a run.” He read the anxiety on your face. “Either way this goes, it’s your decision what happens next,” he said gently. “Daryl is a good man. Try not to worry,” he said.

You nodded. “I know. I know… Okay.”

Carol followed Hershel out and you laid down on the mattress, pulling Daryl’s poncho up over you and curling your fingers into it, pressing your face close to the fabric and breathing in his smell. You laid awake for a while with your mind spinning, wondering how he would react to the news. It was always easy to picture your future with Daryl, even during what was seemingly the end of the world, but you’d never thought about the details beyond the two of you being together. And with the history of his parents, what he had gone through, you didn’t know what he would want as far as a family… That had never mattered to you before, but now that you were staring the possibility in the face you were suddenly wrecked with nerves.

Sometime later, the archer arrived to check on you, approaching the space you shared in the lofted area of the cell block quietly, expecting you to be sleeping. But he was surprised to see that, although you were in bed, your eyes were open and you rolled over at the sound of his quiet steps.

He was sweaty and coated in dust and mud that was in various stages of drying. He set his bow down beside the bed. “Ya ain’t sleepin’?” he drawled.

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “Just couldn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Fine. Just a little tired.” You smiled at his dirty and somewhat disheveled appearance. “Come here,” you said softly.

He glanced down at his mud-coated clothes and arms, and looked back up at you like you were nuts for that request. “M’filthy,” he said.

“I don’t care,” you replied. “Come here.” You moved over to make room for him to lay down beside you.

Daryl gave you a look, his blue eyes soft, and bent down to at least pull off his boots. He laid down facing you and his heart leapt as you moved into him closely, your arm draping over his waist. You moved your leg until it was tangled between his. He happily breathed in the scent of your hair.

“Ya okay? Really?” he asked, his deep voice a little heavy with gravel—the result of his concern.

You pulled back from him just enough so you could look into his handsome face. “Mhm. I’m fine. Really.”

He nodded and seemed to relax some, draping his arm over you, mirroring your position. You nuzzled into him again and for the first time since Hershel and Carol had left you alone, your mind quieted.

You felt him place a kiss in your hair and you smiled reflexively.

“I need to clean up. I’m gettin’ our bed all muddy,” he said. You felt the rumble of the bass in his voice.

“Can I come?” you asked softly. “I’ve felt gross since the run.”

He glanced down at you and nodded. “If I ever say no to that, ya can assume I’ve lost my damn mind.” He gave you a fond look and smoothed your hair gently. “Ya sure ya just don’t wanna sleep?”

“Mhm. I’m sure. Besides, I won’t be able to sleep unless you’re right here anyway.”

Daryl smiled, feeling a swell of affection for you and the way you always made him feel wanted and needed. “Alright. C’mon then.”

So, the two of you made your way to the showers and slipped into a private stall. Daryl pulled you into him under the stream of water and kissed your bare shoulders and up your neck, his arms smoothing over the curves of your sides and landing on the angles of your hips. You scrubbed away the mud from his skin and he smoothed the soapy lather over yours, loving the way his fingers glided over the shape of you. When you were both clean, Daryl shut off the water and wrapped you into him with his big towel causing you to laugh. “Gotcha,” he drawled.

“You do.” Your hand landed flush on his strong chest, your fingers splayed out, and you looked up at him, the corners of your eyes crinkled slightly in a smile. Daryl’s heart jumped every time you looked at him like that. He leaned forward and left a kiss on your nose, watching as your eyelashes fluttered closed.

You looked up at him again as he grabbed your towel for you and you both dried off before pulling on some clean clothes. Daryl watched you running a comb through your hair and studied the graceful movements of your hands. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing your eyes to him immediately. “Ya know I love ya, right?” He still looked a little bashful every time he said it. You didn’t mind.

Your face lit with a gentle smile and you closed the space to him in an instant, clasping his face in both of your hands. “I know. And you know, I love you, right?” you said.

Daryl’s lips found yours and you sank into each other for a moment. “I know,” he said when you broke apart. “C’mon. Ya need somethin’ to eat and then sleep.” He laced his fingers with yours and pulled you toward the cell block.

After a quiet supper with the rest of the group, the two of you wandered outside into the evening air to enjoy the stars for a few moments before heading up to bed. Daryl sat down on the soft grass and tilted his head at you, beckoning for you to come sit up against him. You sank down in front of him and leaned back. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

One thing Daryl always loved about you was that you didn’t need to fill every silence. Just being close to one another filled each of you up in ways that idle chatter never could. But when he did want to talk, you listened intensely, really listened to him in ways he wasn’t used to. “I’ve been thinkin’,” he said softly, pausing to anxiously chew his bottom lip for a moment, “if the outbreak hadn’t happened, you and I probably never would have even looked at each other.”

“Hmm. How do you mean?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking about how best to explain what he meant. “I was too busy runnin’ around bein’ a piece of shit with Merle. And you—we were in different worlds, ya know. We probably never woulda even had the chance of brushin’ elbows. But if we did,” he shrugged, “I don’t think ya woulda looked at me twice.” He ran his hand down your bare arm, relishing the feeling of your soft skin. “Hell, I didn’t think ya would look at me twice even now…”

You turned and looked over at him, a sad but thoughtful expression on your face. “It’s hard to know, and maybe you’re right, that we would have never met… but if we did, I think I would have seen you just the same way. It’s impossible not to see you, Daryl.” You clasped his face and stroked your thumb along his strong jaw.

His eyes were flickering between yours and he felt that familiar bloom of warmth starting in the center of his chest, right between his lungs, and growing outward. He nudged his nose up at you, in awe of you always, and you acquiesced happily and kissed him. “Let’s get some rest,” he drawled when you finally broke apart. “C’mon.”

Daryl stood and pulled you up, keeping your hand captured in his, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand as you made your way up to bed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When you woke up the next morning you could tell it was much later than you usually slept in. And the fact that Daryl wasn’t beside you and that you hadn’t woken up when he stirred was also unusual. You were a light sleeper, and the two of you generally woke and got up around the same time. This sent your anxiety whirling again.

You got up and threw on some clothes, heading down to the lower level of the cell block and finding Carol and Beth sitting at one of the tables with Judith.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Carol said with a smile.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed. “Yeah, geez. What time is it? I don’t even know when I last slept in this late.”

She nodded and gave you a pointed look.

Beth only smiled up at you. “You must have needed it then,” she said kindly.

“I guess so…” You glanced around but the cell block was empty. “Where’s Daryl?”

“He’s on the fence with Rick. Little herd piled up overnight,” Carol explained.

“Mmm,” hummed in acknowledgment.

“Maggie and Glenn ran into town for some supplies,” Carol said, shooting you another meaningful look.

You nodded. “Great. Okay.” You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek.

“You want some breakfast? There’s some oatmeal we made,” Beth offered.

You shook your head. “No, I’m alright. I’m gonna go see how things are going on the fence I think.”

“Y/N, you should eat something,” Carol said.

You waved her off, already headed toward the door. “I’m fine! I’ll eat something in a bit!” Truthfully you had no appetite at all. This waiting, the not knowing, was agonizing.

You stepped out into the bright sunshine and set out toward the two figures on the perimeter fence. There was a group of walkers still clawing at the chain link, but it looked like Rick and Daryl had it under control. You grasped the interior chain link and hollered at Daryl and Rick over the mawing and growling sounds. “Best way to start the day?”

They both spun and you grinned at them. They were sweaty and splattered with walker blood, each clutching a metal rod in their hands, the end covered with a bit of gore. You felt a spin of nausea and avoided looking at the crimson dripping from their weapons.

“Morning exercise,” Rick said with a smile. He turned back and continued the task.

“Yer up,” Daryl said with a smile. He came over, wiped his hand on the red rag he always had in his back pocket, and then rested his fingers over yours, which were poking through the fence on his side.

“You should have woken me up! I can’t believe I slept in this late,” you said.

“Nah. Ya needed it,” he drawled. “Ya were out cold. Didn’t even move when I got up. Besides, we’ve got this handled. Ain’t no reason ya need to be out here.”

You nodded. “I see that.”

“Should be a done in a bit,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the growing pile of dead ones on the other side of the fence. Looking back at you, Daryl thought you looked a little pale. “Ya feelin’ alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing a little.

You nodded. “Mhm. Fine. I’m gonna just go see if Hershel needs help in the garden,” you replied. “See ya in a few?”

The archer nodded and watch you start to turn away. “Hey—just take it easy, alright?”

You laughed. “I think harvesting cucumbers is about as easy as it gets!” You gave him one more wide smile and headed for the vegetable garden. “Hey, Carl,” you said, as you came through the gate and passed him. “What are we harvesting today?”

Hershel glanced up at you and gave you a small smile. “Cucumbers. Peppers. Those tomatoes could use some weeding if you’re up for it,” he said. He surveyed you carefully and, like Daryl, did think you looked a little pale. But you seemed otherwise bright and alert as you set about your task.

But you hadn’t been working in the garden long when you started to feel a bit dizzy. A cold sweat broke out at your hairline and on the back of your neck and you knelt heavily in the soil a little suddenly.

Hershel noticed immediately. “Y/N?” He got up and moved over to you. He watched you wipe a shaky hand across your forehead. “You alright?”

You heaved in a deep breath and forced it out slowly. “Just feel sick all of a sudden. I’m okay. I’m fine,” you said, straightening back up. But as soon as you tried to stand your knees felt weak.

Hershel grabbed your arm to steady you. “Whoa. Easy now. Alright.” He turned to Carl. “Carl, go run and get Daryl.”

“No. No, I’m fine… Don’t bother Daryl with this. It’s nothing. I’m alright. I’ll just head back inside and rest,” you argued.

“You sure? It’s no bother to Daryl to come look after you,” Hershel said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Really. I guess I do need some rest. It’s nothing,” you argued.

Hershel reluctantly released his gentle hold on your arm and you made your way back inside. Carol stood up when you came in and you read concern on her face at the sight of you. You let out a wry laugh.

“Wow, do I really look that bad?” you said, wiping at the sweat on your brow again with the back of your hand. Beth glanced over and she too looked worried after studying you. “I’m okay. Just gonna go lay down. I must just be a little sick... Caught some virus or something.” You climbed the stairs and collapsed back into bed, again grabbing Daryl’s poncho and cuddling up to it.

You dozed in and out for a while but woke when you heard hurried steps on the stairs. Looking up you saw Daryl in front of you, his blue eyes narrowed and obvious worry on his countenance. You leaned up on one elbow as Hershel came into view behind him.

Daryl sank down on the edge of the bed next to you and pushed your hair out of your face, smoothing it gently. “Ya are sick,” he said.

“I think she might be a little anemic,” Hershel said. “She needs iron. Red meat would be best.”

Daryl glanced over at him and nodded. “Alright. I can do that,” he said, grateful for a task that would be helpful to you when he was feeling helpless. He looked back at you. “I want ya to stay in bed today. Rest,” he said softly, his eyes flitting between yours. “Ya gonna be alright if I go out and hunt?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He gulped. “Alright. Promise you’ll stay in bed?”

You looked up at the sweet worry on his face. “I promise. Promise you’ll be safe out there?” You hated the idea of him going out and hunting alone.

“I promise. I’ll come back to ya.” He smoothed your hair again and then leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes briefly at the sensation.

He shouldered his crossbow and look at Hershel. “Thanks, doc,” he said. You watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

You glanced up at Hershel who set a glass of water down next to the bed for you. “You really think I’m anemic?”

He nodded. “I do. Fits all your symptoms. All of them except you getting sick yesterday.”

“Oh… okay.”

Hershel gave you a kind look. “Glenn and Maggie should be back any minute now. I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

You dozed on and off for a while until you heard some activity down the stairs and you sat up in bed. Quiet, steady footsteps on the stairs approached and Maggie came into view with a small bag for you. “Got what you needed,” she said.

You sat up, your stomach churning nervously, and accepted the bag from her. “Thanks,” you said. She hovered for a moment.

“Do you know what you’re hopin’ for?” she asked.

You shook your head and glanced up at her. “Not really…”

She nodded. “Well, either way it goes, we’re all here for you. And I know Daryl is too, no matter what.”

You gave her a small smile and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” You stared back down at the bag in your hand. “Well, better get it over with I suppose,” you said, standing up and heading for the bathroom.

A short while later you were back in the space you and Daryl shared, the pregnancy test sitting on the chair next to the bed. You couldn’t stop switching between sitting and anxiously bouncing your leg and pacing along the side of the bed wringing your hands. You were obsessively checking the time and it felt like it had decided to move like cold molasses. You were a bundle of nerves, but finally it was time to check the results. You forced a nervous breath in and out and picked up the test.

Positive. It was positive.

You felt like your knees were about to give out and you sat down on the bed hard, staring at that little plus sign.

Your heart was racing, and even though you were terrified, and so nervous wondering what Daryl’s reaction would be that you thought you might pass out, you broke into a teary smile as you stared at the results.

You replaced the test on the chair beside the bed and flopped backwards onto the mattress, staring up at the gray concrete of the ceiling and watching the shifting light and shadows. Whether it was simply from the relief of knowing or a result of the stress leading up to it combined with the toll on your body, you fell asleep not long after, cuddled up to Daryl’s poncho.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was almost sunset when Daryl came back from his hunt, hauling a small deer over his shoulder. He had told himself he wasn’t coming back until he had some meat for you and everyone else (but mostly for you…) and he had succeeded. Usually hunting or tracking quieted his mind, but the whole time he was outside the prison fences he had been worrying about you. Before the outbreak, it wasn’t a big deal to get the flu or some random virus. But now, without access to modern medical care, something simple could turn into a big fucking problem real quick. You’d never had a problem with anemia before, if that’s what this was, and he didn’t really understand why you suddenly would. But he also knew that you were the type of person who would choose to go without a decent meal so Beth or Carl could have a second helping. He made a mental note to ask Maggie and Glenn about whether they saw any place on their run today that might have meds or supplements. Better to search out what they could before you needed it desperately.

The sun was low and sinking fast beyond the tree line as Daryl nodded to Carol as she closed the gate behind him.

“That’s a good find!” she said enthusiastically, looking at the deer slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. How’s Y/N?”

“Hershel’s been checking on her. She’s been sleeping all afternoon,” Carol said.

Daryl nodded. “Good. I was afraid she’d be up tryin’ to help on the frickin’ fence or somethin’. Stubborn,” he drawled. He started up toward the prison and left the deer outside to be butchered. He wanted to see you before he did anything else.

It was quiet in the cell block. Most of the group was winding down for the evening, sprawled out with a book or busying themselves with some quiet activity. Rick gave Daryl a nod as he came in and continued bouncing and shushing Judith.

Climbing the stairs to your shared space, Daryl could tell you must still be asleep. Normally you’d have been calling out to him already with some greeting, or you’d be waiting at the top of the stairs with a one of those smiles that killed him every time.

He smiled as you came into view on the bed. You were partially curled up on your side, cuddled up to his poncho tightly, your fingers curled into the fabric and your cheek pressed to it. He pulled off his vest and tossed it on the chair beside the bed, debating about whether or not to wake you up and ask how you were, when he heard something clatter to the floor.

He bent and felt around under the chair and his hand closed on it. Straightening up, he finally looked at what was in his hand. Even Daryl knew what that little plus sign meant. He glanced back over at your sleeping figure.

This was—was this—suddenly, everything made sense.

The archer rushed down the stairs and toward the exit. Rick looked up and frowned at his urgency. “Daryl?” But the archer didn’t even stop to look at him.

Outside, he grabbed his crossbow from where he had laid it down by the deer, shouldered it, and let himself into the alley between the fences, running toward the vehicles waiting on the outside.

Carol saw him and her stomach immediately twisted. “Daryl?” She rushed toward the fence, but by the time she got there he was already slamming the driver door of the SUV and peeling out, the tires scattering gravel behind the car. Carol gripped the chain link fence so hard her knuckles were white and stared at the taillights disappearing into the dark beyond the lazily drifting cloud of dust. Her stomach dropped.

She ran the whole way back up to the prison and met Rick on his way out. “What’s going on?” Carol asked desperately.

“I was just coming to ask Daryl that same question,” Rick said, his eyes searching the yard and perimeter fence for his broad-shouldered frame. “He just went hurrying out of the cellblock.”

“I saw! He just took the SUV and peeled out of here,” Carol said, her eyes wide and worried. “It’s dark! Where could he possibly be going right now that couldn’t wait?”

A shadow darkened Rick’s expression. He shook his head and shrugged, meeting Carol’s eyes again, at a complete loss. “Better ask Y/N.”

Carol suddenly realized—like a flash of lightning. She nodded to Rick. “Let me go talk to her.”

Carol climbed the stairs to you and Daryl’s space in the cellblock. You were fast asleep on the bed and she gently touched your shoulder to wake you. You stirred and glanced over at her through sleepy eyes. You must have read something on her face because you shot up in bed immediately. “What? What is it? Is Daryl okay? Is he back?” You could tell by the lack of slanted light coming through the high windows that it must be dark.

Carol didn’t know how to tell you this. “He’s fine. He came back with a deer. And then—all of a sudden he just barreled out of here again. He took the SUV.”

You suddenly realized that Carol was sitting on the chair where the pregnancy test had been. Your heart plummeted into your stomach. “Wait—where—where’s the test? It was—it was right there where you’re sitting,” you said.

Carol shook her head. “I didn’t see it. There was nothing here when I came up. Just Daryl’s vest over the back here—”

Carol took in your wide-eyed expression. You jumped up off the bed and starting searching around the floor, reaching under the mattress. “It was right there. I set it there.” You stood up, frozen, one hand clutched to your head. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Daryl came back, and you were asleep, and he must have seen the test and— “He—He came back and I was asleep and he saw it,” you murmured. “He must have seen it and… he just ran off?” There were tears stinging in your eyes now.

Carol stood up and gently grasped your shoulders. “Try not to jump to any conclusions.”

“Carol, it was positive.” You just stared at her, your eyes still wide. “It was positive! What else am I supposed to think? He came back and he saw a positive pregnancy test and he just—he just left?” Your voice was desperate.

The only thing Carol could think of doing was to grab you tightly and hug you. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay! Don’t panic!”

Part of you knew Daryl would never just leave, but another part of you knew this was completely uncharted territory. You honestly didn’t know how he would react to the news… You couldn’t stop cursing yourself for leaving the stupid test out like that and letting yourself fall asleep. Anyone could have walked up and seen it, and of course it had to be Daryl. You snatched his poncho off the bed and started toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Carol demanded.

“I’m gonna go wait,” you said. “I’ll be in the east guard tower…And Carol—Please don’t say anything about this to anyone… Just—not yet. Not now.” You breezed past Rick on your way out, ignoring him calling your name.

Carol met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What’d she say?” Rick drawled.

Carol shrugged. “She was sleeping. Maybe—maybe Daryl is worried about her being sick and decided to go look for supplies,” she offered weakly.

Rick let out a disbelieving sigh. “At night? By himself?”

All Carol could do was shrug.

“How is Y/N? And where’d she just rush off to?”

Carol nodded. “She’s alright. Worrying about Daryl now obviously. She wanted some fresh air and to watch for him so she headed up to the guard tower.”

The worry creases on Rick’s forehead didn’t ease. “What the hell is he thinking going off by himself at night?”

Carol shook her head. “He probably wasn’t.”

Up in the guard tower, with Daryl’s poncho swaddled tightly around you, you sat out in the open night air and stared at the road that led up to the gate. A few times you even tricked yourself into thinking there were distant headlights approaching, but when you looked again everything was just as still and black as it had been a moment before. You heard the door creak open behind you and Hershel stepped out.

He sighed and looked up at the inky blue-black sky, dotted with innumerable stars. “Ah. It’s nice and cool out here now,” he said, leaning back against the wall of the tower. He bent and set a bowl of some noodles and vegetables beside you. “You better eat something,” he said.

“No appetite right now, funny enough,” you said.

He could see the rigid tension in your shoulders and he sank down next to you with some effort, adjusting his prosthetic leg with a sigh. “I can see you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said gently. “Trying to guess the answer before you can even ask the question.”

You finally looked over at him, an anxious expression on your face. “Did Carol tell you?”

“No. She didn’t have to. I can guess well enough,” he said, a small smile on his lips. Hershel turned his gaze out over the yard. “You know there was a time, back at the farm, when I wasn’t sure about Daryl. You can imagine this old farmer was a little skeptical of his rough-around-the-edges, hot-headed biker attitude,” he chuckled to himself. “But time and time again, he came through for me and my girls. He watched out for all of you and he kept us safe even when we weren’t his to care about yet. He certainly saw Shane for what he was before anyone else.” Hershel breathed in a deep breath of the cool night air and let it out slowly. “And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d do anything for you.”

You could feel tears burning in your eyes again, and you adjusted the poncho around your shoulders.

“Whatever reason he had for tearing out of here like he did, I promise you that he will be back,” Hershel said strongly.

You wiped one tear that leaked onto your cheek and sniffled, trying your hardest to blink away the rest. You nodded. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know how to—how to do any of this,” you said. “And we’ve never even talked about it so I don’t know what he wants. What if—”

Hershel chuckled again. “What ifs can lead you down a dangerous road of thinking. Let’s just wait and see, hmm?”

You gulped and nodded, staring back out into the night. “You don’t have to wait with me,” you said.

“I’m going to sit here until you eat something. Doctor’s orders.” You could hear a smile in his voice and you begrudgingly picked up the bowl he had brought for you and picked at the food. Hershel smiled.

When the bowl was empty, Hershel took it from you and pulled himself to his feet again. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll see.”

You felt like you had been waiting up there for days, but it was really only a few hours. You were reeling with worry, but this time when you thought you saw headlights and looked again they were still there.

You jumped up and stared as the SUV came into view and stopped at the gate. Turning on your heel, you started to rush toward the stairwell but you suddenly froze. What the hell were you going to say? What the hell was Daryl going to say? You were gripped with anxiety again as the multitude of what ifs you had been fighting since waking up suddenly traveled through your brain in single file at light speed. You were frozen, staring at the door for… you didn’t even know how long when it suddenly started to open.

You startled and jumped back with a small gasp of surprise. Daryl’s broad shoulders emerged through the widening gap. “Y/N?”

You gulped and stared back at him, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek.

He stopped just inside the door and took in your wide eyes and obvious distress. His brow furrowed heavily, casting a shadow over his narrowed blue eyes. He gulped and stepped closer to you.

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wouldn’t come unnaturally high or strangled sounding despite the constriction in your throat. “You’re back,” you said softly. It was the only thing you could force out.

Daryl looked puzzled. “Of course I’m back,” he said, stepping closer. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth and worried it between his teeth for a moment. You watched as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test.

Your heart was pounding.

“I, uhh—I found this. Ya were asleep and—” He gulped. “It’s positive, right? Means you’re pregnant.” It really wasn’t a question.

Daryl could see your chest heaving a little with your nervous breaths. You nodded.

Daryl stared down at it for a long moment before he looked back up at you. “What do you wanna do?” he asked.

You stared at him. He looked so calm while you felt like you were spinning. “I don’t—I don’t know—I—” You forced in a breath. “We’ve never talked about what you want. Hell, we’ve never talked about what I want either…”

“I know what I want. I want you. That’s more than I could ever ask for,” he said, stepping closer toward you again. “But this? This is your decision. And whatever you decide is fine by me.”

You were almost overwhelmed with emotion immediately, just hearing him speak those words. Daryl saw it and he couldn’t resist breaking the buffer of space between you any longer. He clasped your face in both hands as the tears finally broke free of your eyes and traveled down your cheeks. “Hey. S’alright,” he murmured to you. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you against him tightly. “M’right here.”

You pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. “You’re really okay with… either way?” you asked him, uncertainty still plain in your eyes.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Promise.” He smoothed his hands over your back.

You leaned your head against his chest for a moment and listened to his strong and steady heart. Daryl gently stroked your hair, enjoying the feeling of you against him and the silky strands of your hair under his fingertips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, part of you still bracing against some worst-case scenario you knew would never come, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t be completely silenced. Your voice was soft, but Daryl still heard it as clear as day. “I think—I want to do this. With you.” You pulled back slightly and looked up, meeting Daryl’s waiting blue eyes. You had barely gotten the words out before he had wrapped you up again and picked you up off your feet, hugging you so tightly he squeezed a little air from your lungs. You let out a surprised laugh as he set you back down, about to speak again, but he clasped your face and kissed you feverishly before you could start. It was like a warm shot of bourbon or that first warm day of sunshine after a long winter. It was urgent and soft at the same time, pleading and needy but affirming, his fingers in your hair.

When he finally pulled back there was a smile crinkling the corner of his blue eyes as they flickered between yours. You were sure you had a slight look of shock on your face still despite the bewildered smile you were now wearing.

“We’re doin’ this?” he asked, not releasing his gentle hold on your face.

You nodded. “We are.” Your heart was pounding. “Oh my God, we are…”

Daryl kissed you again and you sunk into it deeply this time. His hands came to rest on your hips and you stared up at him, still feeling a little like you were spinning. “I didn’t know how you’d—because of your life growing up…” you trailed off.

He nodded. “I know. But I ain’t my dad,” he said forcefully. “You’ve shown me that more than anyone.”

“I woke up and Carol said you just went running off and I—I didn’t know what to think when I realized the test was gone and that you must have seen it,” you admitted.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he shook his head as he looked at you. “Ya thought I would leave ya?”

“No! No, I didn’t—but then—I just—I guess I got scared… This whole thing is a little overwhelming.”

“Hey. C’mere,” he said, wrapping you up in his arms again and pressing you against him. “I ain’t never leavin’ ya. Never. You’re—you’re my everythin’.”

You breathed him in for a moment before pulling back. “Well, then where did you go?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up and he laced his fingers with yours. “C’mon. I’ll show ya.”

You followed him down the stairs and back into the prison to the cellblock. It seemed that everyone was already asleep except for the two of you, satisfied once Daryl was back that they didn’t need to wait up worrying anymore like you were. When you climbed the stairs into your space, Daryl bent down and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. It looked like it was stuffed full. He knelt down beside it and unzipped it.

You stared down at the contents and then met his blue eyes. “This is what you were doing?”

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod, pressing his lips together a little nervously. Now you were the one who grabbed him and kissed him desperately.

The bag was full of things you would need during a pregnancy and for a baby; pre-natal vitamins, bottles, pacifiers, blankets, diapers. Your heart swelled as you looked down at it and then back at Daryl again. You shook your head. “You just—you amaze me,” you said.

He shrugged, still a little bashful when you directly complimented him even after all this time. He reached back under the bed and pulled out a second bag. You gave him a questioning look. “What is that?”

“In case ya decided the other way,” he said. “S’mostly just some random things ya like. Books and…” He shrugged again.

“So—Baby was Plan A?” you asked him as he climbed to his feet.

“You were Plan A. Ya always were and ya always will be.”

You looped your arms around his neck and his hands reflexively landed gently on your lower back. “But—you were hoping—?”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. “If ya woulda asked me a week ago I don’t know what I woulda said. But as soon as I picked up that damn test up and looked at it… And then I looked at ya just layin’ there asleep, all wrapped up with my poncho the way you were… I knew what I was hoping for. But I mean it when I say that anything you decided would be fine. You’re the one who as to do the hard part.”

You arched up onto your toes and kissed him again, sliding your fingers into his hair and feeling calm and happy again for the first time since you had sent out for the test. “How’d I get so lucky finding you?” you asked him quietly. Daryl felt his heart skip a beat and electricity zipped up his back. You always did that to him. Easily. Still.

“I ask myself that all the damn time,” he drawled. “Now c’mon. Ya need rest.”

You nodded and realized that despite sleeping most of the day, you were exhausted. Anxiety will do that… “I suppose you think this means you’re gonna be able to boss me around now?” you joked, settling into bed.

“Damn right,” he said with a smirk, pushing the duffels of supplies back under the mattress. “Gotta make sure ya take care of yerself and the little one. I’m gonna boss ya around all the damn time.” He kicked off his boots and slipped into bed next to you, immediately moving until his body was pressed against yours and he could wrap an arm over you. You slipped your fingers between his. “Gonna tell Hershel he can boss ya around too,” he joked. “And Carol. And Rick. And Maggie. And—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you laughed.

Daryl smiled to himself and kissed your neck. “We’re doin’ this,” he said softly.

You sighed contentedly and nodded. “We are.” And that night you had no trouble sleeping.

[sanguinescorpios]

Still Alive

dream x f!reader

PART ONE

summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance? 

warnings | none!

word count | 1.7k

I had never seen a flower before. At least, not that I could remember. Things like that didn’t exist within the confines of the city walls, the beautiful, living things. The things that reminded you you were alive. My gaze fixated on the object before I even knew what I was looking at. Its petals swirled with pinks and purples, hues I had only seen in worn-out wool and peeling paint. Deep emerald leaves adorned a similarly colored stem, all woven together intricately and standing out amidst the field of brown. I marveled at the plant, bending down to hold it delicately between two fingers. It was incredible, even better than in photographs.

I spent months looking through the old textbooks Zoe had found, simply admiring the anatomy of different flowers and plants from the Old World. She was so excited to show me. I can still picture her jumping up and down as she entered my room in her tattered sports jersey and two-sizes-too-big jeans, a huge stack of books cradled like a child in her arms. Her tight curls were always pulled up into two buns, perfectly placed on the top of her head and bouncing with her childlike movements. I had quirked up an eyebrow at her as she wordlessly dropped her findings on my cot with a thump.

“Books,” she had said, looking at me with a newfound glimmer in her eye, “textbooks. We can learn!”

There was plenty of other information in those textbooks, but the flowers fascinated me. They caught my attention not just for their beauty, but for their mechanics, too. As I read, I began to appreciate how their roots anchored them to the earth, how their stems acted as passageways for water and nutrients, how they came in so many shapes, shades, and sizes. I wanted to know everything I could about them. I had always been that way, I guess.

A nearly foreign feeling emerged in me as a smile curled its way onto my face. The muscles were rusty from a long hibernation and they weren’t sure how to react to the sudden use. Dust found its way into my eyes as my cheeks rose with the grin, so I brushed it away quickly. That, I was used to.

“A cosmos,” I said to no one but myself. Of course, it was a cosmos.

The world before me was barren, a bleak expanse of land that seemed to never end. How the fuck was I supposed to survive out here? Despite my extensive studying, I wasn’t necessarily well-versed in survival. I had no protection out here, no roof over my head, and no soldiers with weapons on watch for intruders, or worse, for variants. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Variants were the one thing I knew almost nothing about, despite how hard I tried to get information from the watchmen and neighboring families. In all honesty, we didn’t know much about them, just that they didn’t seem to like us too much. One week the world was our terrain and the next it was theirs. I had never met one and I wasn’t planning on doing so, but I no longer had control over that. I chose to leave and there was no turning back.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Adjusting my pack on my back, I grabbed my flask and poured a bit of water over the stubborn flower.

“Hope we make it, little guy.”

One last look at the distant confines I used to call home, then I was walking again, this time never turning back.

. . .

As it turns out, walking across one huge expanse of dust and dirt isn’t very fun! In fact, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea where I was going, that much was clear not even ten minutes into the journey. Leave the city, that was my only plan. A shit plan, in hindsight. I reached into one of the many pockets of my pack and pulled out my water bottle. Last sip, that’s not good. If I could just go a little longer and reach the forest, I’d be okay. Much of the landscape had been torn apart over the years, but there were still occasional patches of green, at least that’s what I had been told. Just a little farther, surely I would reach it soon.

The hours dragged on, all melding together into one blurry week of sleeping in a ripped tent in the middle of nowhere and barely eating or drinking. When my eyes focused on a small dot of green in the distance, I nearly brought my hands up to rub the mirage from them, but I knew better than to do anything like that before washing. Especially after the week I’ve had, too much dust and not enough water.

I had been preparing for my lunch break when I spotted it, excited to get my hands on my tenth granola bar of the week. All desire for a break left my body, replaced by the desperate need to get to that forest before nightfall. There could be water in there, shelter, food, the possibilities were endless. I picked up my pace, feet moving with fervor despite my obvious exhaustion. My pack threatened to slip off my back, but I ignored it.

I reached the edge of the forest by nightfall, a shudder running through me at the thought of spending the night alone in the dense environment. Anyone or anything could be living here, and they could be hungry. The ground didn’t feel safe, too open and vulnerable of a place to sleep, but the sliver of moonlight shining down on me wasn’t enough to find anywhere else. This would have to do.

A few restless hours passed before I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, my back pressed uncomfortably against a tree and my pack serving as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t bother to set up camp, figuring I’d pick up and move in the morning anyways. I expected to get a few good hours of sleep at least, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands and a gruff voice.

“Get the fuck up,” the voice barked as my eyes adjusted to the morning light, peering up at the shaded figure looming over me.

“Wha-what?”

“Get. The fuck. Up.” The figure grabbed my pack from underneath my head and I groaned at the rude awakening. In my early morning haziness, I barely questioned the individual’s orders. My body moved before my brain told it to, pulling itself out of the fetal position and standing up, unsteady but sturdy enough.

As I rose to my feet, I took a good look at the person for the first time. He stood tall, towering over my frame with long legs and broad shoulders. Underneath his hood, a mask shielded most of his face from me; it looked to be made of some sort of wood and with the jagged smile that was carved into it, it was borderline terrifying. Dark blond hair toppled out and around the thing, curling messily at the ends. He sported muted green cargo pants and a thick belt bearing a multitude of knives and other weapons I didn’t even want to imagine. A black T-Shirt spread across his torso, strong arms emerging from the sleeves and gloved hands gripping a satchel against his hip. If this went south, I was outmatched.

“What made you think sleeping on the ground was a good idea?” he hissed out a few minutes later as he led me through the trees, taking angry steps at least two yards ahead of me.

“I didn’t have many other options,” I responded simply, not sure what he wanted from me and still groggy with sleep.

“Well, you picked the stupidest option.”

I rolled my eyes, who did this guy think he was? Sure, the ground wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was all I had! I huffed, kicking at a rock as he stopped to check...something — who knows what he was doing.

“You got a name, mask boy?”

He shushed me, holding up his index finger as he looked around at our surroundings.

“It was just a question-”

“Dream,” he cut me off, “now shush.”

He said it simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd name anyone had ever heard, and went right back to surveying the space around us. I poked my head around at him, trying and failing to get this mystery man’s attention.

“Is that your real name?” I inquired, making awkward eye contact with the mesh-covered eyeholes of his mask and wishing I could see his face when he answered. Maybe then I’d know if he was bluffing or not. Or if he planned on killing me.

“It’s what you’ll call me.”

There was a finality in the way he said it, a sternness in his voice that I wasn’t about to argue with. A beat passed in utter silence, me waiting for him to continue the conversation and him already three steps ahead of me on the path. Dream isn’t a chatty guy, noted.

I jogged to catch up to him, slowing as I reached his side. He didn’t seem like he was going to kill me as soon as night fell on the already dark forest, but keeping him in my sight was the safest bet.

“You’re not gonna ask my name?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow and bobbing his head as if to say ‘go on’. I gave him my name and he grunted in response — men.

He persevered through the forest, cutting away branches and leaving a green mess in our wake. I had no idea where we were going or why I was following his lead so easily, but he seemed confident and I trusted his confidence more than my own.

“So…” I dragged on, twiddling my thumbs and shooting him a look, “do we have a plan here or are we just gonna wander for the next five hours of daylight?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an “ugh” as he pushed through another set of leaves. I wasn’t wrong; the sun would be setting soon, and based on how he reacted this morning, he wasn’t a night owl.

“Our camp is set up a few miles north. We should get there before nightfall.”

Did he say our?

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[its-warm-in-here]

Playing Pretend

I’m sorry I didn't get this up sooner. I gutted the end but here’s the first part of the first chapter of a Heisenberg x reader fic that will probably go on too long. This is more of a prolog. No smut yet! Written with a female reader in mind, but I may have versions for both m and f when the final product goes up. Gonna start out kinda fluffy before we get darker. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

Summary: This summer trip to Romania was supposed to be momentous, life changing, and the bases for your master’s thesis. Too bad the villagers want you gone and this ‘Mother Miranda’ won't even see you. Luckily, you run into a greasy engineer who says he can help.

Or

Karl tries to take a day off from being ‘Lord Heisenberg’ with the cute stranger who wandered into the village. Things only spiral from there.

~2080 words

Miranda loved the yearly festivals. She always made a big show of the village, flowers and banners everywhere. The townsfolk would bring out their best clothing, even if their best was still black and brown. The dreary village would come alive with drinking, dancing and merry making. Even some of the neighboring villages would join in the festivities. The town would be near bustling, the local tavern would be full, laughter and song would echo from the church to the castle.

He hated it. All of it. Heisenberg avoided the celebrations, instead opting to stay holed up in his factory as much as possible. And it wasn't just because of the excess of people, while that didn't help. No, it was an insidious purpose for these gatherings. He exhaled a ring of cigar smoke.

First, boost morale through the village and reaffirm the people's faith in Mother Miranda. Second, and far more insidious, was to widen the flock, to expand her influence and bring in new blood for her experiments. The surrounding towns were just as small and removed from the rest of the world as Miranda's village. Made it easy to bring new blood under her wing. Youth would meet and marry, a drunk or four would go missing, and some of the visitors would become new members of Miranda's community. More meat for her Cadou grinder.

Heisenberg flicked the ash from his cigar and watched it float down before the wind caught it. The early morning view from the top of his factory wasn't bad. It was his own part of the world: no view of the village, the stench of the reservoir was nonexistent, and the most he could see of Castle Dimitrescu was a massive wall keeping their territory separated. Just him and his machines. He took another puff. As much as he planned to avoid today, Heisenberg knew that he would have to make at least some appearance. All the Lords did, even if it was just for a moment. Just another way to show her power; having all of her ‘children’ before the townsfolk. He grimaced at the thought. Târgul de Fete was set to start soon. At least that gave him the morning to get shit done. Heisenberg kicked a bit of metal scrap off the roof and it bounced off the scrap heap below with a ping! before landing in the dirt. He rolled his shoulder. Time to get to work.

---

"Well fuck you too!" You slammed the door behind you.  Why even bother going through the proper channels? No matter what, they turn you down, tell you to leave and treat you like an outcast. You spoke to towns folk, to village leaders, hell, you even wanted an audience with their 'Mother Miranda,' but she refused to even see you! You stormed along the path and the few people that had not made their way to the Târgul de Fete celebration steered clear of you, opting to give you a side eye and shuffle to their destination. All you wanted was to observe their festival, and maybe take a few pictures, but even that was negotiable. You had even offered to leave your camera behind with them for the day. Why hadn't you gone to Sweden with the rest of your class? No, instead you went to some culty, backwater town in Romania!

You kicked a rock, hard, sending it flying into the tall grass. "God Damnit!" This was supposed to have been your thesis! Supposed to be life changing! No, now you were just stuck, miles from any true civilization and being kicked out of some stupid, ramshackle heap, whose plants can't even grow right in a Romanian summer. Some of the plants were barely green, most appeared dry or yellowing. The flowers were either wilted and falling apart or hadn't even bloomed. You were no botanist, but you were certain that wasn't healthy.

You kicked another rock, it soared through the grass, but it struck something metal this time before landing with a thud. They didn't want you here, didn't want you at Târgul de Fete? Fine, but they didn't take your camera. Without thinking, you dug the old DSLR out of your bag and snapped a picture of the church.

And immediately deleted it.

You signed. Even if the villagers were a bunch of jackasses, this was their culture and they made it very clear that you were not welcome. Even if they had agreed to all this three months ago. And even if they had called you a bad omen, a poison and a danger to the whole village.  You weren't about to infringe. Crestfallen, you huffed your bag over your shoulder and began the trek back out of town. It was at least a four hour walk to your rental car and a good chunk of that walk was more of a hike. Not like there was much you could do other than leave after cussing out the town speakers and nearly slamming the door off its hinges.

The village had felt abandoned when you walked in, and now that everyone had headed off to a celebration, the village was positively desolate. No traditional brightly-colored dresses or intricate belts to be seen. And no wary or hostile glares from the inhabitants either. It was... quiet. Aside from the occasional crow, you might as well have been in a ghost town. It took you a bit to find the correct path out of the grave yard, but after spinning in circles for a good moment, you pushed past a red door and were back on your way. The village wasn't large, most of the paths were poorly maintained and the whole place was enveloped in a strange fish smell.

You bit the inside of your cheek. This was a good thing, really. Who would've wanted to stay in the ramshackle place for more than a few hours, let alone a few days? You groaned and kicked at the ground again. While not lacking in repellent attributes, the pagan worship of the place fascinated you.  They had their own religion but had incorporated traditional Romania holidays into their culture. Where else in Europe could you see that happen in real time? Of course, you could think of a couple of places, but you had picked here in the Carpathian mountains in particular! While you did have a second choice, you couldn't stop the self pity from setting in.

Ugh.

The village was relatively small and was quickly fading to forest, the castle that overlooked the town vanished behind you as you shuffled down a particularly steep part of the path. The trees here looked more normal, less sickly. While it was only marginally, you felt a bit better, a bit less mad. Stepping away from that place was a breath of fresh air.

Your boots skid a bit as you reach a flat spot. With a huff, you grip both backpack straps to center yourself.  If this couldn't be your thesis, that didn't mean you had to hate the walk. This was Romania afterall, when was the next time you were going to be here? The sky may be overcast, but it sort of added to the eerie charm of this place. You sidestepped your way down another steep incline, using one hand to grip overgrown branches for balance. The last step is a bit further, but you find your footing easily.

And the rock gave way under you, tilting forward with an abrupt grinding sound. A burst of panicked adrenaline rushed through as you struggled to stop. You pitch forward, stumbling over branches and underbrush, your eyes forcibly losing focus.

"The fuck?"

That wasn't your voice. You slammed full force into something, another body? And it gives under you. The other person takes the brunt of the fall, landing on their back with a distinct, "oof."

For a moment, you don't speak, too focused on catching the breath. Finally, your vision swims back and you find your voice, "Damnit... are you ok?"

The man under you goans, sitting half way up to look you over. His hair is grey, and a bit too long, but he couldn't be any older than forty, possibly younger. "Get off." Your eyes go wide and that panicked beat fills your chest. "Ya deaf? Off."

"Er, right," you scramble to your feet and, without thinking, extend a hand to the stranger, "Sorry about... that." You gestured vaguely to the path. "Lost my balance."

He lets out an exasperated huff, and knocks your hand away. For a moment, he doesn't acknowledge you, instead retrieving something from the grass behind him. He's wearing a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up with black leather gloves. You force yourself to look somewhere, anywhere else, nervously bouncing from foot to foot. When he turns back to you, he has a tattered, wide brim hat in place and is looking over a pair of broken sunglasses. One of the lenses was clearly shattered, but he hooked them over his shirt collar, his attention finally turning to you. "You're not from around here, huh?”

You couldn't help but snort, "What gave it away, the wind breaker? Don't worry, I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" He repeats.

You start moving back to the path. "Yup, your village speaker has made that very clear."

"They were clear? Not all back and forth on it?" He chuckles, "That's impressive, they must really not like you."

You stare at him, was this a friendly face? It was certainly a handsome face, even with scarring and stubble. But a trustworthy one? "You sure you're ok? Didn't scramble that brain when I ran into you? The rest of the town was pretty dead set on driving me out."

" 'Cause they're a bunch of morons, sweetheart," he insisted, "All part of Mother Miranda's big, idiot mob."

"Huh," you are walking ahead on the path, and he's not but a footfall behind you.

"But they don't matter."

"No?"

"What matters is, why didn't they want you here?"

You stop, turning to face this stranger. He was gruff, and more than a little rude, but in comparison to the townsfolk, he was downright friendly. Hell, you were surprised he was so forward with you.  "Masters thesis," you put plainly, hoping he'll leave it at that.

"On what?"

"Anthropology."

He leaned in close. He wasn't that much taller than you, but you couldn't help but move away from his imposing figure. From this distance, you could smell motor oil and some kind of smoke on his clothes. "That's it?" You scoff, the sooner you are back in your car the better. "I just mean, it's surprising they'd want you gone. You sure there's nothing else? Didn't kick over any goat statues?"

"Not that I noticed," you started back down the path. You'd wasted too much time talking to this weirdo anyway. Just based on his demeanor and dislike of the rest of the village, you wonder if you'd maybe tripped over the town pariah. He certainly wasn't dressed like anyone else from the village.

"I could get you back in."

You stopped, not fifteen feet from him. "You're assuming I want to go back in." And didn’t you? You just risk getting yelled at again. But if there was a chance to write your thesis...

“Well, if you're not interested,” he turned to leave. You grit your teeth, your nails digging deep into your backpack straps.

“Hold up!" It doesn't take much to catch up to him. "How exactly are we going to do this?"

"My word carries a certain amount of weight," he carried on, "Though,  the village doesn't meet on these matters till next week."

"But what good does that-"

He isn't listening, "For today, I know a place you can watch the town. Besides, you're an Archeologist, you probably want an interview, right?" Of course he gestures to himself with a sort of half bow.

You roll your eyes, but still follow, "Anthropologist." He gives you a blank look. "I'm studying Anthropology, not Archeology."

He doesn't seem to care, instead pulling a cigar and lighter from his pants pocket. "Got a name?"

"Oh, (y/n). You?"

The stranger is part way up on the path you had tripped down. "Karl," he had extended you a gloved hand. You look from him to his hand, before brushing past him, pulling yourself up next to him without the offered aid.

[binniedeactivated]

so reading your last beomgyu fic made me think about something... 😳 do you think you can write a college au smut where the reader is an exchange student and beomgyu is assigned to introduce her to uni rules (and stuff like that) but things go.. wrong?👀 shiiit, i've got a lot of beomgyu in my mind wth 🤣

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮!𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐖/𝐂 | 2.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐚𝐩 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐲𝐦·𝐩𝐡𝐨·𝐦𝐚·𝐧𝐢·𝐚𝐜 / 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞.

a/n: hope you enjoy this! ily </3 

“babe they just assigned me a new student, I already told you that”. beomgyu spoke while throwing a hoodie over his head. he was on facetime with his long time girlfriend lana.

“i know and that pisses me off. we were supposed to meet up and I have another class in an hour or two. ugh can I just come to your dorm room after you’re done?“.

“yeah that’s fine I guess. It shouldn’t take that long”.

she scrunched up her nose. “you guess? so that means you don’t want me to come then?”.

beomgyu rolls his eyes.  he hated how she always caught an attitude for no reason. “that is not what I’m saying”.

“if you don’t want to see me beomgyu just say that then”.

“and why would I say that?”

“because. you’ve been avoiding me lately anyways. what is it? are you with someone else?”.

he shoves his feet in his sneakers. “I haven’t been avoiding you I have basketball practice. don’t you have my schedule? do you ever look at it?”.

she sucks her teeth. “whatever. I’ll be by your dorm in a few. I’ll text you when I’m there”.

sneaking a look in the mirror beomgyu flattens the small hairs that were sticking up from his head. it was getting late in the evening and of course he didn’t look as neat as he did this morning but he thought he looked pretty decent for now. he closes his room door and checks the messages sent to him from the floor’s RA.

room 325. he looks at the array of doors in front of him and realizes the room he was looking for should be around the corner. he turns down a few hallways and once arrived he knocks softly before shoving his hands in his pockets.  this arrangement was pretty frequent for him so he wasn’t nervous at all to recite the floor rules. it often went smoothly if the student didn’t have any extra follow up questions.

but once the door swung open beomgyu’s eyes widened. standing just beneath his nose her skin was the beautiful color of milk chocolate. her curly, black middle parted hair stopped just at her shoulders. her pudgy lips were glazed in lip gloss and her dark brown almond shaped eyes and curly eyelashes were nearly way too beautiful for beomgyu to even look into. he fidgeted nervously.

“um-hi hello I’m choi beomgyu i’m uh..this floor’s assistant RA”. he introduced, hoping she didn’t think he was a total dork for his stuttering. yet she gave him a small smile anyway. the whiteness of her teeth was blinding, might he add.

“hey I’m jasmin. Is there anything you need?”. she leans in closer while leaning on the doorway and beomgyu felt his heart throb. he discreetly backed up a bit to keep himself from being so nervous. she was just so beautiful and he never thought a girl like her would even want to transfer to a university in south korea.

“um-- I just have to lay down the floor rules. it’s a procedure done with every transfer student. uhh do you have a minute?”.

she nods before chuckling softly. “yeah but--are you okay? you seem a little..off”.

beomgyu shakes his head trying to laugh it off. “ah no no it’s just.. um- I’m a little worn out from practice today so I’m tired and my mind isn’t fully here”.

“Ah I understand”. she nods. And she did. playing a couple of sports back in america herself, she knew the feeling of a long day’s worth of practice. The both of them take awkward glances into the opposite directions avoiding each other’s gaze.

“so? do you want to come in?”. she invites after a couple a seconds of silence.

“yeah um-- sure this won’t take long”. he accepts. he hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid while he was in there. after closing the door behind him she kicks a small box further in her closet. it would be off-putting for beomgyu to see her sex toys firsthand. because jasmin was a nymphomaniac. she wasn’t afraid to admit that sex was her livelihood and she needed it every night and day.  it was a good thing beomgyu wasn’t paying attention to her at all though, more so on the way she decorated her dorm.

“wow it’s pretty nice in here. you decorated this all on your own?”.

“yeah. needed a chair to get to the high places but I tried. would you like a snack or anything?”.

“no no i’m fine. thank you though. so yeah- welcome to sejong dorm hall. you’ll love it here. it’s the most diverse out of all the dorm halls on campus. our rules are pretty simple. if you return late keep quiet, no outside guests allowed in the dorm hall, don’t damage any of the building’s furniture or belongings, no drugs or any intoxicating liquor and my favorite rule of them all, no sex of any sort”.

she laughs. “no sex huh?”.

“yeah. I’m sorry that’s the dumbest rule ever. the university really values study time and giving students a peaceful place to study even if it’s in their rooms. and of course if someone’s having sex in the room above, things aren’t as peaceful”.

she shrugs her shoulders. “eh I don’t know. I think I’ll still be able to calculate an equation or two with a bed rumbling above me“. she jokes, with her and beomgyu sharing a laugh soon after.

“but um- I do have a small request”. she says meekly.

“what is it?“.

“I have this kind of condition... and i was wondering if it can be excused“. she says lowly and beomgyu wondered why she was fidgeting all of a sudden. but she had to ask him, otherwise she’d be getting kicked out pretty soon.

“um yeah I can make some arrangements with the RA...what’s the condition?”.

she draws herself closer to him. beomgyu immediately grew nervous, backing himself into the nearby desk.

“I’m um--”. she semi-whispered. she places her arm on his shoulder, her lips were just inches from his own. “I’m kind of a nymphomaniac. if I don’t get what I want my condition will get worse. can i be an exception to the rule?”.

the way her pretty eyes stares at his lips in need. beomgyu didn’t know what to do with himself. he felt caged in. and he hated the fact that he was being turned on just by the seductive tone in her voice. he swallows the lump in his throat.

“I um---I don’t know if the university will allow th--”.

with no warning she pushes her pillow-like lips against beomgyu’s gently kissing him over and over before slipping her tongue in between his lips. she promised herself she would stop kissing him if he didn’t kiss back.

but he did.

she wraps her arms around his neck and allows the kiss to gradually grow rough and sloppier. beomgyu wanted to stop, he swear he did. but her lips were something he couldn’t get enough of. the way she kissed him with desire and passion like it would be the last kiss she ever had in her life. she clutches his wrists and slides his hands down to her ass.

“jasmin--”. beomgyu spoke in between the fluttering kisses. “jasmin I don’t think we should do-- this we’re going to get expelled”. yet the more he kissed her he didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or himself. what made things even worse about this affair was the sheer fact that he knew no one would ever approve of it. because jasmin was black. especially his girlfriend who would practically murder beomgyu if he ever found out he cheated on her with a black girl. but beomgyu disregarded skin color. he always did. he was never racist like his peers. his phone buzzed in his pocket. he fishes it out and glances at lana’s caller ID. jasmin pulls away with the same seductive glance before she hangs up.

“how about we make a deal beomgyu?”. she offers while pushing him backwards until he was sitting on the desk. she crawls on his lap and holds the nape of his neck sucking hickies into it. beomgyu’s eyes closed and a sigh of relief spills from his lips. her lips were different than the small pecks he was used to from lana. her lips were so hypnotizing, soft and perfect he couldn’t even bring himself to speak.

“if you keep fucking me and covering for me,”. she starts prior to leaving hickies in a few other spots. “I won’t tell your little girlfriend about this”. she finishes before moving upwards to kiss his bottom lip. she tongue kisses him once more. “deal?”. she smirks knowing she already had beomgyu wrapped around her finger. she reaches underneath her skirt and sluggishly slid her lacy panties down her thighs. beomgyu didn’t know how much his lips were parted due to pure shock and arousal. she tossed them to the side.

“deal?”.

he nods his head desperately and she clashes their lips rougher this time around. the more she grinds her hips against him the tighter his pants felt. it isn’t like he had to do all the work either. once she felt him get hard she unzips his jeans and pulls it out herself. she bit her lips and inches herself down on it until beomgyu was fully seated inside of her. she was satisfied, finally filled and wanted nothing but bliss to take her mind away.

“does it feel good baby?”. she asks softly.

and beomgyu, god beomgyu looked as if he could just melt. his eyes were lidded and hazy while he looked at her. she hadn’t even moved a muscle yet and the hairs on the back of his neck were already raising at how wet and tight she was. his mind boggled at how everything about her was so hypnotizing.

he clutches her waist and nods diligently. “p-please ride me”. he begs. she follows his plead and does as she were told, sinking down his dick slower than she reared up. beomgyu’s head drops back between his shoulders with an erotic groan.

“you have to be quiet gyu. remember the rules?”. she breathes loving the sight of the blonde-haired boy becoming undone.

“you feel so fucking good”.

she grins and continues with the rotation with of her hips trying to keep the meek moans that awaited in her throat at a minimum. he brings his head up and lets his hands bracket her moving hips. he thought he finally had himself under control through his weighty breathing. but jasmin does a thrust particularly hard that unraveled him all over again.

“s-shitt”.

she grins once more. “potty mouth”.

“i c-can’t control myself”.

and he couldn’t, especially with the room filled with nothing but their discreet moans, the squelchy sounds of jasmin riding his lap and the desk clashing against the bed in front of it. she quickens her pace,  being just as stubborn as the orgasm that ached within them both.

“fuckk this feels way better right?”.

by now beomgyu’s head was clouded. he wanted to groan as loud as he want  it was painful that he had to keep quiet. he resorted to low whimpers while gripping her waist tighter.

“don’t ask stupid questions. look whose the potty mouth now?”.

she wanted to say something slick back but she couldn’t. she was also trapped in her own clouds with her hands splayed on gyu’s chest. “oh my god”. she hisses, almost dreamy.

beomgyu gazes at her, “come down here”.

“w-why?”.

“because if you keep riding me like this I don’t know if i’m going to be able to control myself much longer”.

bouncing atop of beomgyu she leans her head lower to flatten his lips, the both of them drinking in each other’s moans to keep them from going directly through the walls. he reaches his hands down to cup her ass while her thighs trembled.

“fuckk--fuck keep doing that”. beomgyu groaned in between the pauses of their hot feuding tongues.  she ruts her hips down harder with each thrust with curse words of her own disappearing into the cavern of beomgyu’s mouth. without warning and in perfect sync the both of them reached their highs, jasmin still riding him diligently even with his cum dripping down her thighs. his hips bucked up into her still cumming, he decides to hold her up to refrain her from riding him no longer to keep from the overstimulation. she smirks while watching him finish. she kisses his sticky bottom lip yet again.

“fuck-- did I just cum inside of you?”.

she chuckles and kisses him one last time before climbing back down off of his lap pulling her skirt down. beomgyu sat up and straightened himself up again.

“don’t worry, I take pills beomgyu”.

he breathed in relief, zipping his pants back up. “good”. he stood up with his legs kind of limp and him kind of feeling tired. he didn’t know what he was going to tell lana when he got back to his room. he couldn’t believe what he was about to ask jasmin but he shoved down his pride. he couldn’t get enough.

“maybe, maybe I can get your number for whenever we do this again?”.

[starlocked01]

If This is Madness

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 1- Myths/Supernatural

WC: 7.6k

Summary: One night a lighthouse keeper finds the impossible on the shores of his little island. Fighting both loneliness and temptation, he forges a bond of trust with a selkie as mysterious and unpredictable as the depths of the sea.

Content Warnings: Swearing, Nudity, Kidnapping, Description of Physical Injury, Violence

@dukexietyweek

Unseen flecks of dampness peppered his face with each crash of waves against the rocks, and salt pleasantly stung his eyes and nose as Virgil cautiously picked his way through the slick, sharp stones, headed towards the small lagoon with his canvas, easel, and paints. Moonlight reflected off the low tide waves and he strained to see each next step. Virgil almost missed the obvious until he practically stumbled upon it. He hissed in a startled breath and hid behind the nearest crag. He rubbed his eyes hard and blinked several times, trying to rule out hallucinations or a trick of the moonlight.

A naked man sat with legs spread wide, staring out at the sea, taking large breaths every time the waves broke on its rock. Virgil blushed at the indecency and watched from his hiding place. After a few minutes, he realized the man was wearing a leathery grey spotted animal skin like a cape.

Holy shit...

Virgil had become accustomed to fishing and gotten over his aversion to dead sea life for the most part, but seeing this naked man wearing the skin of what looked like a seal twisted his stomach in an unpleasant knot. Virgil turned away from the sight and spilled his supper between the rocks. He wondered if there was a safe way to run back to the lighthouse and call the coast guard to pick up this tweaker, but when he glanced back the man was staring in his direction, alert and wary.

Shit, look away! Look away! Don't bother with me, freak!

Virgil covered his mouth and pressed further into the shadows, hoping the man would lose sight of him when the man threw back its head and let out an inhuman barking laugh that sent chills down his arms. Virgil watched as it stood suddenly and dashed away across the rocks, careless and surprisingly agile. Virgil breathed a sigh of relief and tried to turn back towards home, but found his feet uncooperative, chasing after the man.

What the fuck? Go back and call this in.

He told himself he was just trying to follow the man back to its ship so he could report how it'd gotten to the island. He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the lagoon and found instead of a crazed man looking for an escape or undocking a boat, a giant, fat, grey seal flapping at the edge of the waves on the secluded sandy beach.

No fucking way…

Virgil didn't believe in legends. He didn't believe in stories of merfolk and sirens and malicious creatures larger than life with tentacles stretching out of the depths (although he was agnostic about ghosts). He certainly didn't believe in selkies. Except this seal had the same skin as the crazy naked man had been wearing as a cape.

Internally screaming at himself to run the other way, Virgil stepped closer to the seal and yelled the only intelligent thing that came to mind.

"Hey, you!"

Hey you? Brilliant, V.

The seal stopped flapping and rolled over to stare at him with those same piercing alert eyes. Virgil shivered as the animal seemed to recognize it had been figuratively caught. It barked the same strange laugh and Virgil was certain it was the same creature.

Virgil watched in fascinated horror as the man began to wriggle right out of its skin, transforming before his eyes. The man stood, picked up the skin, and slung it over its shoulder before grinning at Virgil and shouting back.

"Hey!"

"You can talk?"

"You yell at seals you don't think are capable of talking back? Freak," the man giggled maniacally and Virgil scoffed.

"What? No.. I- look- ugh who are you?" Virgil felt heat rising in his cheeks in embarrassment.

The selkie grinned and stepped closer, offering Virgil its hand, "Remus."

"Remus?"

"Yeah, that's my name," Remus bobbed its head pointedly at Virgil, "and you are?"

Virgil looked Remus over and noted its appearance, from the bruise-like rings around its prying dark slate-colored eyes to the wildly unkempt, grey-streaked hair and mustache. He tried to avoid looking farther down than the creature’s chest, fascinated by the strange ways its muscles moved beneath the skin, built for swimming as a seal. Taking the offered hand, he replied, "gay. I MEAN- Virgil. I'm Virgil."

Remus snickered, "hi, gay Virgil. What are you doing on my island?"

"I live here- what are you?" Virgil pointed back toward the lighthouse and shook his head, shivering in the stillness as the creature examined him with an invasive stare. Remus didn't answer him right away, instead stepping closer and poking him in the stomach. "Hey!" Virgil jumped back in alarm.

"I believe the surface drifters call us 'selkies'," Remus answered with an amused twitch of a smile, "the hookers and netters call us nuisances, but I think they should call me a catch."

Remus stepped closer once again, reaching for the string of Virgil’s jacket. The overwhelmed lighthouse keeper jerked and smacked at the encroaching hand, "would you quit that? Who knew selkies were so nosey?"

Remus shrugged and tried again, hand darting forward and rolling the string between its fingers before yanking hard and cinching the hood over Virgil’s eyes. Virgil stumbled forward and scrambled to yank his hood back. When he had, he caught a glimpse of Remus, half re-skinned, jumping into the waves and swimming away like a merman. Virgil groaned and ran calf-deep into the waters of the lagoon and shouted, "Oh Yeah? Well… Warn a dude next time before just showing up naked and uninvited! Ya damn seal!"

Virgil stood there as the waves lapped up over his boots and dampened his socks, and tried to sort out whether he wanted the selkie to stay away or come right back. He knew the fables- of insecure men stealing a selkie's ability to swim away and calling it love. How their trapped wives always found a way to escape in the end, whether happily or in tragedy. Thinking of Remus, he could almost understand the temptation. The selkie was exotic and grossly captivating even after their short lived discussion.

Virgil kicked at the water and trudged back on shore. If Remus never came back, it would be for both of their benefit. He sighed and turned to set up his painting supplies, hoping he hadn’t broken anything while running after Remus. He continued his painting of the lagoon, mindlessly adding colors to the water and the beach. After a while he took a step back to compare and was startled to find he’d started to sketch out a seal sitting in the shallows. He peered off into the waves, wondering if Remus had turned back and was watching him, but if it had, Virgil could only see it in his mind’s eye.

Less than a fortnight had passed when Virgil awoke to a surreal howling on the beach. The man stumbled out of his cot and over to the window, terrified of what could be making that noise. In the distance, difficult to make out in the waning sunlight, Virgil spied a gray blob on the sandy side of the island, waving a flipper in the air and bellowing. He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Remus?" Virgil sighed and grabbed pants and shoes, silently pleading with the selkie to shut up for a minute. Shrugging on a light jacket, Virgil left quickly to scan the beach for the creature.

Virgil didn't have to look for long before confronted once again with the naked human-form of the selkie.

"Hiya Virgie! Did you hear my warning?"

"I appreciate the heads up.. Where’s your skin, dude?" Virgil tried to glance anywhere except where his eyes were drawn as the selkie stared openly.

Remus shrugged, "over on the rocks. It's fine."

"Fine. Right. Um," Virgil stumbled over his words for a moment before clearing his throat, "why don't you… go grab it and join me inside? We can talk for a while- if you want to that is. I was just going to make breakfast."

"Breakfast? It's practically nightfall," Remus tilted its head inquisitively.

Virgil shrugged, "I'm usually up all night since that's when the light is absolutely needed on." He pointed up to the lighthouse behind him and Remus followed his direction.

After a brief moment of consideration, Remus replied, "sure. I'd love a closer look at the spinny fire tower. Be right back!" With that it dashed away and left Virgil alone for a moment.

Virgil stared after Remus, utterly confused. It was obvious Remus was just curious about him and the lighthouse. There was no reason for him to think otherwise. So then, why did he want to read into the selkie's manor and excitement as affection? That didn't make any sense and the thought almost scared him.  He had taken the lighthouse keeper gig precisely because he was satisfied with the relative solitude and protection from the complexities of human interactions. Was it something about the selkie making him feel this way?

“Hey, Virgil, is there a reason humans change color so much?” Virgil was snapped from his thoughts by the selkie’s question. He shook his head and watched the creature returning, wearing its skin as a cape again.

“What do you mean ‘change colors’?” Virgil replied, turning back to the lighthouse.

“Well, I’ve watched drifters who’s hair changed from muddy or sandy or night-sky-y to cloudy. And their skin sometimes goes from pale like yours to fiery or driftwood-y.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks, utterly confused, “what color would you call my hair?”

“Driftwood-y.”

“I call it brown. If it were darker?”

“Night sky-”

“Black. Okay. Okay, I see what you’re doing here. I guess.. Over time humans get old and their hair tends to go grey or white- cloudy like you call it. Out in the sun all day, their skin will burn or tan, unless they’re already dark skinned and it’s not as noticeable,” Virgil tried to explain as he led Remus back to his place.

“You go fiery really quickly when you see me,” Remus remarked, causing Virgil to blush and prove its point.

“Well, you look like a naked man. It’s indecent,” Virgil tried to brush him off.

“Do you like naked men?” Remus prodded, following Virgil into the lighthouse and immediately becoming engrossed with all of Virgil’s collections. Shells and dried out driftwood lined the walls and paintings sat on the floor against the stairs, the unfinished lagoon landscape hung on an easel in the corner. Virgil chuckled as Remus wandered the combined kitchen and dining room, electing to ignore the question.

This selkie, Remus, was so unassuming. So unafraid. Did selkies not have myths of dangerous, skin-stealing humans? He shook the idea out of his head and smiled at Remus’ energy, “hey, are you hungry, Remus?”

Remus looked up from a painting it’d been tracing with its fingers, “uh, yeah. What do you have?”

Virgil shuffled over to the fridge and opened it to show the selkie the options, “a bunch of stuff…. Would you like… tuna salad?”

“You make a salad out of tuna? That sounds amazing!” Remus beamed, looking for the fish eagerly.

“Uh, for one thing it’s cooked so it probably tastes different than you’re used to,” Virgil cautioned as he reached in and grabbed a tupperware bowl of leftovers, “also there are extra… human ingredients…”

Remus just nodded and grabbed the bowl as soon as Virgil opened it, sniffing once, recoiling from the smell, then dipping its fingers in and scooping a large bite into its mouth. Virgil watched amused as the selkie’s face screwed up in a mixture of unfamiliarity and disgust and gasped as it kept frantically eating while still making faces at the taste.

“Woah woah woah!”

“It’s disgusting. I love it!” Remus intoned between bites, shoving more in its mouth as Virgil tried to wrench the bowl from its grasp.

“You don’t have to eat it if you think it’s disgusting!”

“But I want to!”

“What is your problem?”

“I dunno, I’m a seal. Is that a problem?”

Virgil paused and stopped trying to grab the bowl, watching as Remus quickly finished the food, “no, it’s not a problem. I guess I just don’t know you.”

“Yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yeah. Yet. You’re gonna make me more of this sour fish slop.”

“I am?”

“You are. And you’re gonna tell me about the weird skins over there. Why are they so colorful? Did you color them?”

“Oh, the paintings? Yeah I like to spend free time painting. I have a lot of free time,” Virgil admitted, mind whirling at the thought of Remus coming back often, “I was trying to do some painting the last time you washed up here.”

“Washed up? This is my island,” Remus hissed, spitting tuna salad at Virgil’s face.

“Yours? Then why haven’t I seen you here before, Mister Selkie?” Virgil sassed back, wiping chunks of tuna off with his sleeve.

“Eh, I usually only really come back once a year. Got a lot of islands around here to search,” Remus smirked, setting the bowl down and leaning back against the counter.

“That doesn’t make it yours. I live here all the time,” Virgil scoffed.

“So if I come back tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Hmm…”

“Do you want to come back?” Virgil asked cautiously, “I don’t mind you showing up…”

“Sounds great, thanks for the fish!” Remus laughed and dashed out the door, leaving Virgil stuttering. He rushed after the selkie and watched as Remus wrapped back into its skin and dove back into the surf. Virgil sighed, staring out over the water where the seal had disappeared, watching the sunset dancing like flames in the waves. It was strange, but he found himself looking forward to more visits.

Virgil could never predict when Remus would show up. Sometimes it was early in the morning just when he was preparing to sleep and other times it was the middle of the night as he was tending to the light or painting in the lagoon.

Each time, Remus would announce itself and Virgil got in the habit of bringing it out clothing to wear. They spent the hours talking about the island with the lighthouse, Remus’ world and Virgil’s work. Virgil showed it how he painted landscapes around the island and Remus helped him find more secluded parts of the island. Virgil truly began to look forward to their time together as the visits became more frequent.

It was difficult, but he always resisted touching or even talking about Remus’ skin unless prompted. Remus had on request gleefully told him the horrific stories that its kind told their young about the drifters and hookers and land dwelling monsters that stole pups and young cows to keep them as captive slaves. Virgil was absolutely horrified but understood completely, resolving even harder to never touch the selkie’s skin. It was quite a surprise to him when he realized that Remus would just leave the skin by his coat near the door and never worried about it until it was ready to leave. Remus had never seemed incredibly protective of it, but Virgil marveled at the trust he’d gained in the few months they’d known each other.

The fourth day that week that Remus had shown up, Virgil decided to finally ask. He bit his lip and listened to Remus babble on about dead fish until the tension was too much and he blurted out, “why do you visit me so much?”

Remus paused mid ramble and tilted its head to stare at Virgil, “because I like you. You don’t drive me away for talking about seaweed slime and you show me cool human things.”

“Really, you like hanging out with the loner?” Virgil asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Mhmm and the others think I’m nuts for walking into a human lair. It’s great!” Remus giggled and slurped up a fish stick.

“Oh. You talk to me for clout. Cool, cool,” Virgil shrugged, trying to hide his disappointment, “kinda weird to hang out with a monster.”

“Wait, you’re a monster? Have I ever told you I’m a monster fucker?” Remus grinned, poking and teasing Virgil, “I mean, yeah, humans are supposed to be so scary, but you’ve really just followed the tide. Why would I be scared? Do you wanna hurt me?”

“I don’t- gah I don’t want to hurt you, Remus. Humans have selkie stories just like selkies have human stories, but ours are always about not fooling yourself into holding a wild animal captive. You’re not human, as much as you look like one of us without that skin. I’d never force you to be human.”

Remus listened intently, “wanna know why I actually stopped by here?”

“Why?” Virgil tilted his head, sipping his glass of water.

Remus looked out the window, “I’m looking for someone. I keep hoping I’ll find him on a beach somewhere.”

Virgil tried to ignore how much more his heart sank at the revelation, “who are you looking for?”

Remus chuckled sadly, “my brother. He left one day and never came back. I assumed a human had captured him and devoured or skinned him for fun or something. Then about nine seasons ago, I found his skin trapped on the rocks of this island. I searched this whole island for three days straight and never found anyone.”

“Oh my word, that’s horrible. Is he dead?”

“I dunno. I hope he’s somewhere out there. But if he’s alive and doesn’t have his skin? That’s bad. You know what your kind usually does to us. I always said I was the only one allowed to scare him. I don’t want him to be scared and alone out there.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil replied quietly, remembering with shame how much he’d wanted to do the same things to Remus when it had first shown up.

“I wish you’d been the one to find him, Virgie,” Virgil looked up suddenly.

“I would have never touched his skin. I’m so sorry about your brother, Rem. I don’t know how you can trust a human after that.”

"You're easy to trust. Like you said, you'd never lay a hand on me."

"Thanks..."

“Wanna touch it?” Remus asked suddenly.

Virgil flushed immediately, “what??”

“My skin. Wanna touch my seal skin?” Remus grinned, grabbing Virgil by the arm and leading him back toward the door.

“Remus..”

“Come on, I know I can trust you,” Remus nodded and pushed Virgil toward the drooping grey mass.

Virgil struggled, not wanting to cross this line until his fingers brushed the skin. It felt supple and gave way beneath his touch and Virgil found himself burying his hand in folds, spellbound by the texture. Remus watched him in amusement, placing a hand to his back.

“See, I know you won’t hurt me. You would never hurt me or any of my kind. I like you, Virgie. You get it,” Virgil just nodded in agreement, slowly pulling back from the skin and turning to face Remus.

“You- you like me? Like, just as your friend?” Virgil croaked out, his voice failing him.

Remus giggled at that, “well, gay Virgil. I did kinda think you were cute for a monster. That okay or is that weird?” Virgil chuckled and nodded, hyper aware of just how close together they were.

“That’s okay. I like you, Remus.”

Remus spent the whole day for the first time, snuggling close to Virgil as he slept. It was a strange and unspoken change. They were both a bit different now but the change felt secure. Remus felt more like a companion than a myth. Virgil would never force humanity on it, but revelled in its trust and comfort with him.

Virgil thought often about Remus when it wasn’t there and started including it in his paintings on purpose. The selkie took every opportunity to stop by that it could. When it did, Virgil would sometimes study Remus’ skin while the creature watched.

Virgil thought often about Remus, but the one time he wasn’t was the one time he really ought to have been.

The supply ship made its normal monthly delivery and Virgil was kept busy talking with the captain and the small two person crew as they all unloaded his rations and supplies. He thought nothing of Remus’ trumpeting call as he restocked the pantry until he remembered that the ship hadn’t left the dock yet. In a panic, Virgil ran outside, scanning the beach for his companion or the crew of the ship. His heart dropped when Remus called out again, this time a rather human sounding scream for help.

Pulse racing, Virgil ran for the dock, screaming for Remus. When he rounded the path and spotted the ship, he stopped in his tracks. The two deck hands had Remus wrapped in small nets, halfway out of its skin and gnashing ferociously at the leering men.

“We got a mermaid! A real mermaid!”

“Do I look like a fucking girl? Let me out of here and I’ll show you a real mermaid, you kelpie!” Remus barked and struggled violently.

Virgil shook out of his shock and charged down the beach, “let it go! That thing isn’t worth anything to you!” Virgil winced as Remus looked hurt by his words but he persisted yelling, soon catching the captain’s attention to the scuffle.

The captain watched as his crew fought the small lighthouse keeper and shook his head as the single man started to get the best of them. He sauntered down the dock and blew his whistle, shrill and sharp until the fight came to an abrupt halt.

“You idiots. Some jackass wraps himself in a dead skin and you think you found a mermaid? How did I get stuck with superstitious fools? Let the man go before I let Mr. Feny whip both of you for me,” the two quickly dropped their nets but Virgil glared at the captain with suspicion before running to help Remus get untangled. The captain watched with a gleam in his eye as Virgil tended to Remus, but turned to mutter to his crew, “get ready to sail. We’ve got a plan to make. That thing is better than a mermaid.”

Virgil and Remus watched from the beach as the ship set out into the tide, Virgil laying protectively over the selkie until the ship was out of sight.

“What were you thinking?” Virgil turned, meeting Remus’ frightened gaze.

“I needed to see you. I- you didn’t tell me you had other bitches showing up here!” Remus quickly became defiant, scrambling away from Vigil on the sand.

Virgil sighed, “today was a delivery day. They bring my food, paints, kerosene, and other supplies for the month. You’ve never come on delivery days- I assumed you saw the boat and knew better than to show up. Are you okay? Did the ropes hurt you?”

Remus grumbled but slowly showed Virgil the angry red lines on its arms and sides. Virgil hissed and helped Remus to its feet, leading the wounded creature back to the lighthouse.

Early in the morning just before the sun had risen, Virgil lay next to Remus, exhausted from the break in his routine and the excitement during the delivery. The selkie lay curled in Virgil’s arms as had become their habit on days when it stayed as Virgil slept. He gently brushed over the rope burns on its skin and wondered if he’d be able to better convince Remus to leave to go heal away from any human when they each awoke later in the day. Remus shifted with a hurt grunt next to him and Virgil quickly moved to run fingers through its hair to soothe it back to sleep.

He was on the edge of drifting off himself when the door to the lighthouse slammed shut. Instantly, Virgil sat propped up on one arm, hyper aware of every creak and crack around him. Remus shifted again, mumbling for Virgil to shut up and go to sleep.

“Shhh sleep. I’ll be right back,” Virgil promised, leaning down to nuzzle Remus’ hair momentarily. Remus grumbled and rolled over, hogging the blankets from the man as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his trusted baseball bat. A loud creak on the stairs startled him and confirmed that they weren’t alone in the lighthouse. Virgil fought back a million unlikely guesses of shadow demons, octopi ninjas, and vengeful seals as he stood and silently cracked open the bedroom door.

Lamp light flickered somewhere down the curved stairwell and Virgil cursed to himself. But who would break into a lighthouse on an otherwise deserted island? Had some ship run aground and the crew were just looking for him to call for assistance? Virgil let himself hold on to that explanation despite the panic screaming in his brain that it was too quiet for survivors of a crash to be looking for him. He crept down the stairs, bat ready in hand to fend off anything less than friendly.

Virgil stared- more than a little confused- when he found the crewmates of the supply ship creeping up his stairs. The meaner looking one gasped when he stepped into their light and the other grinned, taking advantage of his confusion and recognition to grab Virgil and clamp a grimy hand over his mouth.

Rage seethed under Virgil’s skin as he kicked and tried to smack the men with his bat. The man holding the torch chuckled and caught the bat midswing, wrenching it from Virgil’s grip and smacking him hard in the leg. He grinned as though Virgil’s moans of pain caused him great pleasure.

“That’s what you get for stealing our catch, you fuck,” he whispered and spat in Virgil’s face as he expertly tied the lightkeeper’s hands. Virgil hissed and tried to kick and struggle as the two men carried him down to the dining room where the captain stood guarding the door.

“I swear he tried ta bite me,” the man gagging Virgil complained. As soon as he removed his hand, Virgil snarled and yelled for help, earning himself a sharp kick in the side. He layed curled on the floor, panting for the breath stolen by the sailor’s boot as the men tied his legs and the captain chuckled darkly.

“So, Mr. Feny, I suppose your selkie friend is upstairs,” the captain’s teeth gleamed in the steadily growing light of dawn and he fingered Remus’ skin like he were appraising its value, “shame he didn’t swim off right away. You made this far too easy.”

Panic clutched hard at Virgil’s chest as he heard Remus stumbling down the stairs, sleepy heavy in its voice as it called for him, asking what was going on. He tried to warn it to run, but one of the sailors kicked him again and the captain stepped forward, boot placed threateningly over Virgil’s windpipe.

Virgil watched helplessly as Remus tripped and barked out curses in its native language, careening down the last curve of the stairs and right into the waiting nets of the sailors. Remus screeched and bit and fought as the two men wrestled him down to the floor of the dining room, crashing into Virgil’s paintings in the process. The captain kept Virgil at bay, smirking as their quarry fought hard but soon succumbed to the ropes and bruises. Virgil gasped as Remus met his eyes with a helpless and betrayed expression.

Virgil croaked out a pathetic, “I’m sorry- they won’t-” before the captain pressed down his foot, choking off his air. Remus was picked up by the two crewmates and carried out the door despite its struggles and howls for salvation.

“Funny how exotic pets tend to run off when we think they're happy, eh?” the captain of the supply ship laughed and nudged Virgil in his bruised side before exiting the lighthouse without another word.

Virgil sobbed as Remus’ terrified cries echoed back to him and grew slowly further away. He struggled against the ropes, biting at the hastily tied knots until his hands fell free and immediately moved to shove the binds off his legs. He cursed the man he had thought was at least friendly, unable to see anything but Remus’ terrified look of betrayal as he slowly pulled himself up and over to the stairs. He cursed himself for setting the radio up near the light, wincing as he pulled himself up the first stair. If he could just contact another ship…

Fighting pain and the ever growing tide of panic pulling back to form a giant wave of despair and doubt, Virgil pulled himself up the stairs as fast as his broken ribs and swimming head would allow. Once he reached the light, he winced at the brightness as it swung over his face, ducking down to crawl over to his radio set up. Virgil groaned as he pulled himself up into his chair and flicked on the equipment, praying anyone would be within range and willing to break course to help him.

Virgil thought for a moment before beginning to tap out his message on the telegraph, trusting years of translating Morse to guide his fingers. He kept the message short, starting with an S.O.S. and his location, adding that someone had been kidnapped. He repeated three times before pausing to listen for a response.

Virgil waited with baited breath and nearly sobbed again when the reply came.

In vicinity. ETA 5 minutes.

Virgil was so relieved, he nearly forgot that he would have to explain who and why Remus had been taken. His heart hammered in his chest as he spotted the responding ship and rushed down to the beach to meet them, wincing with every step.

The ship that pulled into the dock was somewhat bigger than the supply ship, manned by the captain and a three person crew. Virgil stood at the end of the dock, shivering in the weak sunrise as the captain, an honest-looking man in a red coat, jumped off and rushed over to him.

“Oh my god, you look terrible! What happened, sir?” the captain grabbed Virgil by the shoulders just in time as everything that had happened that day suddenly washed over him and his knees gave out. The captain supported Virgil and ordered his crew to help the man aboard so they could care for him.

Virgil stuttered as they brought him aboard, not sure how to explain the selkie’s existence or his need to rescue the being he’d come to see as a companion. A crewmate the captain referred to as Mr. Hart took care in tending to Virgil’s wounds and murmuring words of comfort. The navigator quickly assessed possible routes the fleeing ship could have taken, pondering over which would be the most logical for avoiding getting caught with a missing person. Another crewmate busied himself around the ship, preparing to set sail again as soon as the captain gave them a bearing.

“Listen to me, sir. We’ll get them back, but we need to know who took them and where they went. I promise. Captain Roman Shoal does not break his word,” Virgil looked up to meet Roman’s dark grey eyes and found great comfort in their fierceness, “Patton, go help Janus. I think our lighthouse keeper is in shock.” Patton nodded and jumped up to help pull the ship out of the dock.

“You’re not going to believe me,” Virgil muttered. Roman laughed gently at his first spoken words since being brought aboard.

“Try me. I’ve seen a lot more unexplainable things than you’d expect,” the captain grinned and offered Virgil his hand. Virgil took it and decided to just blurt out the truth like ripping off a bandaid.

“My supply delivery ship crew jumped me and tied me up so they could kidnap my… companion. I don’t know what they wanted with Remus-”

“Remus?” the captain looked as though the name were a spirit come to haunt him.

“Yes, Remus. I know this sounds crazy, but the people who took Remus knew that- that-” Virgil tried so hard to say it out loud, to acknowledge the impossible, knowing the moment he said that Remus is a selkie he’d be thrown back on the island as another mad lighthouse keeper.

“It’s a selkie. Right? They stole a selkie- shit! Logan! We need to make the best time we can heading northeast from this position!” Roman stood, barking orders at the navigator while Virgil stared agape at the man.

“How did you-”

“I’ve known Remus before. It is an idiot to get itself into this predicament,” Roman barely spared Virgil a glance, but the piercing gaze made something click in his head.

“Oh… are you-?”

“Luckily, if these kidnappers are stupid- and they sound quite stupid- I know exactly where they’ll be headed. We should be able to catch up before they get to the market. How much of a head start do they have on us?” Roman asked insistently.

Virgil sighed, “I think at most an hour? I had to get free and get to the radio,” he gulped, “sir…”

“Please just call me Roman.”

“Roman, um… how exactly do you know Remus?” Virgil hazarded the question as the ship began to speed off after the kidnappers.

“My sibling has always been far too trusting of humans. You called it your companion? So was it with you willingly or am I going to release Remus to the waves and let the pieces of your body follow?” Roman answered with a hard edge to his voice.

Virgil shook his head, “I never touched its skin until it offered and actually forced me to touch it. I never wanted to hurt Remus… I tried to convince it to flee the island after the men attacked the first time earlier yesterday, but it was hurt and didn’t want to leave.”

Roman nodded, satisfied for the moment, “fine. You rest here while I find Remus. If it wants to return with you, that’s no skin off my back.”

Virgil watched, quiet as the crew maintained their pursuit. He wondered at the selkie captain and idly if the others were also mystical sea creatures pretending to be human. Roman spent several minutes explaining their exact heading to Logan and encouraging Patton and Janus in their sailing of the ship before he made his way back to the injured lighthouse keeper.

“So what’s your name and how do you know Remus?” Roman asked in a low voice.

Virgil nodded to acknowledge the fairness of the questions, “Virgil Feny. As you guessed, I tend the lighthouse. I met Remus when it showed up on my beach one night and claimed it owned the island I live on.”

Roman snorted, “yeah, that sounds about right. Remus trusted you?”

“After a while. Like I said, I never tried to touch its skin when it came to visit. I also never asked it to come back at any specific time. I didn’t want a pet and certainly didn’t expect a partner,” Virgil whispered the explanation. Roman nodded in approval.

“How did you lose your skin?”

“That is a long story.”

Virgil started to reply when Patton whistled for Roman’s attention. Both the selkie and the lightkeeper looked up to where the man was acting as lookout.

“Spotted the ship, sir. How should we approach it?” Patton called back in a low tone despite their distance from the other ship. Roman stood and began to pace, contemplating that issue.

“They’ll be too wary to stop when hailed. They might have even been in range when Virgil signaled for help and could be expecting us,” Roman mused aloud.

“We could throw up the Coast Guard colors. Make them think twice about running?” Janus offered.

Logan scoffed from his place at the wheel, “why would kidnappers obey martial law and stop for the authorities? Especially if they heard the distress call.”

“Well if I were on their ship I’d hide the- man and stop for the Coast Guard to throw off suspicion,” Janus rolled his eyes, “running from the authorities when caught red handed is beyond unintelligent.”

“Gentlemen,” Roman tried to interject.

“There has to be a way to save him! I mean look what they did to poor Virgil, the guy they took has got to be in so much pain,” Patton whimpered, empathetically imagining all kinds of tortures. Virgil and Roman both paled at the suggestion but Roman shook his head.

“No. They think they have a.. Selkie. They’re going to try and sell the man at market. We have to stop them before they sell a man to the highest bidder.” Roman spoke measuredly and watched his crew’s reactions. Patton looked confused while Logan seemed incredulous at the very notion.

Virgil noted Janus’ carefully trained neutral expression with suspicion. He wondered again just how Roman had lost his skin. Just then the ship lurched and he was thrown to the deck, groaning at his jarred ribs and swiftly darkening bruises.

Patton quickly jumped to tend to Virgil again, righting him against a barrel and tearing his own shirt to bandage Virgil’s torso.

“Don’t mind the captain. He’s always been a bit eccentric about stories,” Patton whispered to soothe Virgil. Virgil just nodded, knowing the truth. The others continued to bicker over options as they came closer to their quarry.

“You know what I say? Let’s give them a fight. They’ve obviously got their hands full with their prisoner since we were able to catch up so quickly. Let’s make them regret their rash little stunt,” Janus grinned wickedly, hand resting on the saber tied to his waist, “we can steal back what they’ve stolen.”

Roman stared with contempt at the ship they were quickly gaining on, “it’s what they deserve. Let’s go. Raise the colors.”

The other three men jumped into action, Patton moving to run a flag up the mainsail while Logan steered in such a way that they were suddenly gaining very quickly on the smaller vessel. Janus stepped up to a chest along the wall near where Virgil was sitting, winking at the lighthouse keeper as he pulled out several loaded guns to distribute among the others. Virgil was heartened by the rescuers’ enthusiasm, but felt lightheaded as his injuries, lack of sleep, and steadily holding tidal wave of panic met with the rocking of the ship.

He awoke to a loud shout followed by a gunshot. The ship lurched again as it was anchored to the listing supply ship. Virgil ducked, suddenly terrified of being seen by the supply ship crew or getting shot. He cursed himself as he cowered from the angry yells and clanging of metal pieces.

Suddenly a large warm body landed in Virgil’s lap and he faintly heard Roman yelling at the crew to pull away. Slowly, he opened his eyes, surprised to find Janus in his lap, moaning in pain and clutching his leg.

“Wha- what happened? Where’s Rem-”

Janus hissed, “The selkie is fine.” he nodded up towards the helm, "and I totally meant to shoot myself- god damn it!".  Virgil’s breath caught as he looked up to see Roman belting orders with Remus clinging to him and sobbing into his shoulder. Roman had wrapped his sibling in his coat, holding tight to his waist as though the selkie would disappear into the waves if he let go.

Virgil turned back to Janus who was also watching the selkie and the captain, “wait you got shot!” he turned with a groan to look for Patton, but finding the man busy helping Logan steer the ship away from the point of engagement, Virgil turned back and began to rip as clean a strip of cloth from his own shirt as he could get. “Show me the wound, you need to be bandaged.”

Janus hissed again, trying to pull away from Virgil but unable to move far, “I’m fine!” he snapped. Virgil pushed up the man’s pant leg and gently felt the bloodied skin around the wound. The bullet was definitely still lodged inside. He frowned and tied the scrap of his shirt firmly around to slow the bleeding.

Janus sighed heavily, unable to look away from Roman and Remus, “thank you. Roman has been looking for that one for a very long time...”

“Remus mentioned finding his skin. At least they’ll be able to be together again,” Janus whipped around to stare at Virgil.

“No. No, he can’t leave- I can’t-”

“You knew about Roman,” Virgil replied with a confirmed understanding, “he’d be happier with a choice.”

“We’re happy now- you don’t even know us,” Janus scoffed as he climbed to his feet, “just watch your mouth, lighthouse keeper.” He turned to limp back to his post, brushing Roman’s shoulder as he passed them.

Virgil moved to stand, only to be tackled back to the deck by a blur of red. He looked up and found Remus’s slate-grey eyes grinning back at him.

“You came for me! And you found Roman! You’re the best monster boyfriend ever!” Virgil cried from relief, pain, exhaustion, and joy. He wrapped his arms tightly around Remus feeling much the same way it had looked like Roman was, terrified Remus would disappear if he let go of it. When he looked up again, Roman was standing above the both of them, a confused mess of emotions playing out across his face.

“I hope you don’t mind a quick diversion before we return you home, Virgil. I would hate for that crew to try again without properly alerting the authorities. And as you saw, my first mate got a bit clumsy and needs medical attention,” Roman spoke quietly, trying to ensure neither Patton or Logan were listening in, “Remus assured me you don’t mean us any harm…”

“You always treat me like I’m stupid. Looks like I picked the better human,” Remus retorted, hugging Virgil tighter and squeezing his bruises.

"I just- I missed you, Rem.. and years later, we find you.. and you're throwing yourself at a human. I just can't believe it," Roman shook his head in disbelief.

Virgil sighed, "yeah. Please report those jerks and get Janus help. I'm so sorry he got hurt-"

"Nonsense. We would have risked a lot more to get this knucklehead back," Roman waved Virgil's apology off before leaving to direct the ship towards dock.

The sun had begun to set and nearly dipped below the horizon, lighting the water in flames before Virgil spotted the beacon of the lighthouse still spinning. He felt immense relief in just recognizing home.

The ship pulled up to his tiny dock and Virgil nearly tripped over himself, running to grab clothing and Remus’ skin. Roman and Remus also disembarked while the crew rested after such a harrowing day. Virgil found Roman and Remus standing on the beach, staring out over the ocean and talking quietly. Virgil stopped several yards away, curious.

“You could come back. We’ve missed you so much, bro.”

“I’ve missed you more than you’d know. But I have a life up here.”

“That bitch trapped you, didn’t he? You deserve so much better for yourself!”

“Look- yes, Janus hid my skin at first-”

“So take it back and leave him!”

“But I threw it overboard. I lost it on purpose. I hope you never understand, because Virgil seems a decent man. In fact, give it to him.”

“I’m sorry, give me what?” Virgil interjected, holding the clothes out for Remus. It happily grabbed them and its skin, dressing right there on the beach and tying its skin around its neck like a cape.

“Oh! Virgil! Um-” Roman stammered a moment, “I was offering to let you have my skin. You could become a selkie with it. I don’t need it.”

“Yeah! I could show you my world! Exploring shipwrecks and fighting squids over fishies- it would be so much fun! We could come back here for you to keep painting and all that stuff too,” Remus grinned broadly, offering Virgil its hand.

“I- I don’t know,” Virgil shook his head, “what about you?”

“My ship will be around. I know where to find my sibling now and that it’s okay and in caring arms,” Roman shrugged, “I wanted to stick around for a week or so, make sure those ruffians get jailed for attempted kidnapping. If that’s alright, of course. We have rations and won’t interfere with you.”

Virgil laughed quietly, “that is much appreciated, sir. Thank you for everything today.”

“It wasn’t a problem. Figured I’d be saving this knucklehead sooner or later,” Roman grinned and took his jacket back from Remus, “have a pleasant evening, Mr. Feny.”

“You too, sir!” Virgil called back before tugging Remus close to his side. The sun slipped below the water line and Virgil rested his head on Remus’s shoulder, taking comfort in the soft skin draped there. Roman had retreated to his ship, leaving the pair effectively alone.

The beacon spun overhead, glinting off the waves and fighting with the set sun for brilliance. Virgil stood silent, barely held steady by Remus who also leaned on him for support. The day had been all too much to process. As though reading his mind, Remus pulled Virgil down to the sand, laying down and offering to hold him. Virgil wrapped himself in his companion, feeling the world shrink to just one patch of the beach, the whisper of water draining through the sand, a spinning lantern warning other beings away, and the warmth in their embrace.

[poc-movie-supremacy]

I’m coming home to you

Christopher wanted to see his Buck today and who was Eddie to refuse? They picked up Buck for a nice day at the pier. When things go from great to catastrophic, will Eddie reunite with Buck and Christopher. Based off this tumblr post by @sexyapplemilk

This story is for @sexyapplemilk/ @fandom-101 @its-like-looking-in-3d

Thank you to @not-falling-but-flying for reading over this long long fic!

I hope you guys like it!

----

Eddie and Buck had the same day off. Well Eddie had the day off and Buck didn’t have work but potato potatoe. It was Saturday so Chris didn’t have school today either. 

Eddie was sitting across from Chris at the breakfast table munching their way through breakfast. It had been a quiet morning so far, Chris was lost in his own thoughts. Eddie wondered if his kid was planning anything, but decided not to put much thought into it. 

“Daddy can we see Bucky today?” The question made Eddie cock his eyebrow. He knew that Buck had been wallowing in his bed for the past few days after he got the news he couldn’t go back to work just yet. Part of him didn’t want to disturb the younger man, but the other part of him figured this could be good for Buck. Also he can’t say no to his kid. 

“Let me ask him if he’s free.” Eddie will probably come over anyways, Buck can’t get mad at him, he had Chris. “Finish your breakfast first though mijo.” Chris shouts in joy and resumes eating his breakfast, bagel with fruits cause eddie can’t mess that up, with renewed rigour. Eddie smiles fondly at his kid while he takes a bit of fruit. 

Eddie made Chris finish getting ready for the day. They had to do Chris’s PT, get changed, fix their hair. Eddie combed his hair back, put on a nice white shirt and a plaid button up, jeans, and some sneakers. Chris put on a yellow stripped shirt and blue pants. He waited impatiently for his dad by the door. Eddie chuckled, unlocked the door then walked with his kid to the car. “What do you want to do for today Chris?”

“We can color or Bucky says he got a new video game!”

“You don’t want to go outside?” 

Chris looks at his dad curiously. Eddie helps him into the car then doubling back to get into the drivers seat. He starts the car and starts to drive. “What could we do outside?” 

“You could go to the park, play on the play structure?”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “Bucky can’t fit on it though, I know, we’ve tried.” Eddie laughs out loud at that. The idea of Buck trying to fit into a play structure is way too amusing. 

“Well okay then, no park, we could… go to the laser tag?”

“I promised I’d go with Denny next week though.”

“Hmmm yea we gotta keep our promises don’t we?”

“That’s what you always say.”

“Well maybe Buck will have better ideas huh?”

“Bucky has the best ideas!” 

---

They get up to Buck’s apartment and Eddie doesn’t knock, instead he just lets himself in. The apartment is eerily quiet and Eddie wonders if Buck wasn’t home. “Buck, Hey Buck me and Chris are here to hang out.” He looks around the apartment for any signs of his best friend. 

“Daddy look.” Chris points up to the loft to the mass on the bed.

Eddie smiles proudly at his kid. “Good job mijo. Go sit in the living room while I go rouse Buck.”

“Can I watch tv?”

“Sure kid.”

Eddie sets Chris up in the living room before heading up to Buck. The bedroom is a bit messy, loose clothes strung everywhere. The blinds are closed and all the lights are off. Any evidence Buck is here is the gigantic mass on the bed. Eddie frowns in worry, before getting to work. He opens up all the blinds and repeatedly pulled the covers off of Buck to force him to get up.

“Dude I have nothing to do today.”

“Nope, you're taking me and Chris, more importantly Chris, somewhere today. Heads up, he’s vetoed the park and laser tag and he’s downstairs. Get changed and start thinking of places to go. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Buck looks at him incredulously. “Eddie, you can’t cook.”

“Yea it’ll probably be toast or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but food is food and you need to eat.”

Eddie watches Buck calmly. Anger, confusion, acceptance and happiness flit across his face. He gives Eddie a smile before turning around. “Okay Eddie. Anything for my favorite Diaz.��

Eddie knows he means Chris, he still leaves the loft with a small smile.

---

The Diaz’s make Buck a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some strawberries Eddie found in Buck’s fridge. Buck’s in a white shirt and a plain pink button up. His hair is slightly gelled up and any trace of sadness was gone from his eyes. Happily he let Chris pull him to the kitchen table. “Wow this all looks so good buddy, did you make it?”

Chris beamed. “No Dad helped a bit.”

“You coulda convinced me otherwise.” 

Chris giggled as Eddie rolled his eyes, “I cut up the strawberries.” Buck made a small noise of understanding before starting to eat. Chris quietly colored beside him. Occasionally he stole Buck’s strawberries. If Buck cared he didn’t comment on it.

“So have you picked where we’re going Buck?” Eddie asked.

“Yes actually, May’s been talking about visiting the Pier with her friends and I figured  if it was good enough for her, it’s good enough for us right? You wanna go to the pier buddy?”

“What’s on the pier?”

Buck’s face lit up in a blinding smile. Quickly he starts listing off all the unhealthy snacks sold at the pier. Eddie shakes his head and mock glares at Buck, but he only gets a cheeky grin in response. 

“You’re going to give him such a sugar high. Ugh, if you want to do this you have to put him to bed tonight.”

“You’re going to stay with us for the whole day?!” Chris smile could put the sun to shame. He looked eagerly between his father and his Buck.

“Sure Buddy if that’s what you want.” Chris nodded his head so fast he looked like a bobble head. 

Buck chuckled, “Okay buddy, I’ll hop you up on sugar then have the pleasure of tucking you in.” Buck sent Eddie a teasing smile, only to receive an eye roll in response. 

Once Buck finishes his food, the boys head for Buck’s jeep. They could’ve ridden in Eddie’s truck, but Buck likes driving more than Eddie. Chris’s car seat is transferred to the back of Buck’s jeep and they all pile in. Some top 40s song blares from the radio as they head to their destination. 

The wind feels nice in Eddie’s hair. He stares out the window as he listens to Chris and Buck have an animated conversation. Eddie doesn’t really pay attention to it, but it still sounds nice, his son and best friend being happy.  

“Will you ride with us Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“The bumper cars? Do you want to ride on the bumper cars with us?”

“Oh why not. You sure though, I’ll kick your butt.”

Buck squacks offendedly. “As if, I’m a pro at bumper cars Diaz. In fact I should be asking if you’re okay going against me.” Buck flashes him a cocky smile and Eddie gives him a deadpan stare. He’s impossible yet so endearing. Eddie can’t bring himself to hate it, any of it for a second. 

----

Going to the pier, Eddie will admit, was a very good choice. The smell of fried food and the noise of the amusement park rides was relaxing. It felt like being back at the state fairs in Texas. Buck and Chris dragged him along to every ride and Eddie went willingly. He doesn’t remember the last time he had so much fun. 

Eventually they tired down. Eddie was sitting on a bench next to Buck with a frankly gigantic brown bear on his lap. Chris is watching the surfers surf the waves down below with Buck holding onto his shirt. Eddie let himself relax after spending a whole day running after a child and a golden retriever. When Chris comforted Buck, Eddie snuck a photo of the moment. Buck was smiling sadly up at Chris while Chris held Buck’s chin in his hand. It was so sweet Eddie could’ve gotten a toothache.

He went about saving the photo when Chris started talking again. “Where did all the water go?”

---

So there was a Tsunami in California, and Eddie was in the middle of it. He really can’t have nice things. Immediately Buck grabbed Chris and together they started running off the pier. Man can’t outrun nature though and they were barely halfway across the pier when they got swept away.

---

Buck tightened his hold on Chris as he felt the water slap them around. As much as he wanted to keep Chris with him, he wasn’t stronger than the water. Eventually Buck felt Chris get torn away from him. Debris the tsunami picked up hurtled toward him. He could feel little nicks appear on his arms and legs. 

When he finally broke through the surface, he spotted Chris clinging to a pole twenty feet in front of him. Carefully he angled his body so the water would take him to Chris. When he got close enough he leaped and wrapped his arms around Chris. With the same intensity, Chris clung to Buck tightly. It was nice to have proof that Chris was safe. After hearing the little guy cry out for him and Eddie, he wasn’t letting Chris go anytime soon. 

For a while the duo was at the mercy of the water, but when Buck spotted a half submerged fire truck, he used his reserved energy to swim towards it. Once there, he lifted Chris onto it and then lifted himself onto it. The whole act hurt his leg, but Buck didn’t voice his pain. Quietly he breathed a sigh of relief. The open air stung his fresh cuts and his soaked clothes clung to him uncomfortably. Chris climbed into his lap and rested his head on Buck’s chest.

“Bucky, where’s my dad?”

Buck sighed, not wanted or knowing how to answer this question. “It appears that we got separated when the wave hit, but that can’t be permanent right buddy? When the water recedes we’ll go search for him okay?” Silently Chris nodded. Buck carded his hand through his curls and let his head gently hit against the truck. He breathed deeply once before getting into action.

“Hey superman, can I give you a quick check-up? I wanna make sure you aren’t too injured.” Chris nodded and Buck went about a modified version of the paramedic check up. (He’s been around Hen and Chimney to know it by heart. He also is a certified EMT.)

“You’re all healthy, kid, just a few cuts but that’s okay. Pretty amazing, I need to know your secrets.” Buck poked Chris’s cheek to make him giggle. He succeeded.

“I had you. You saved me.”

---

Somewhere along the way Eddie got separated. In the water he tried to reach for Chris or Buck, but his hand kept getting smacked by debriefs. He did it enough times that he was sure his wrist was sprained. 

When he finally broke free from the waves he couldn’t tell where he was. There were string lights hanging above him and a row of nondescript red buildings. Eddie let himself be dragged along with the waves while he thought of something to do. Buck and Chris weren’t beside him, making him officially alone. He hoped they were still together, the thought of all three of them trying to survive this on their own was enough to puke. 

He clutched onto his St. Christopher’s medal as he searched for someplace to grab onto.  There were inflatable toys, scraps of metal, and spare tires; but nothing safe to actually hold onto. Eddie tries to groan in frustration, but he ends up swallowing a mouthful of water instead. 

After another half-hour he finally sees an awning of a restaurant. He makes his way over and lies down on the awning. He breathes in deeply and lets out a slow breath. He’s safe. He’s safe and alive and all alone. Dread tries to settle in his stomach at the thought of his son. He knows he can’t think like this, but god it’s so easy too. He can only hope that Buck is with Chris, Buck will keep Chris safe. 

--- 

When the water finally recedes, Buck climbs down the truck. The nice lady, Mrs. Violet, hands Buck Chris before climbing down herself. “Stay safe you two. Good bye.” Chris waves goodbye and Buck gives her a megawatt smile. She’s nice company while they were stuck on the truck. Buck hopes they find their husband. He waits to make sure everyone else gets down safely too. 

The winds from earlier have died down. The warmth from the midday sun beaming down on him feels nice. His clothes have dried into uncomfortable messes, but it’s fine. He gave his pink button to use a tourniquet for a man with a bloody arm. 

Chris tightens his hold on Buck, shifts around to get comfortable, then goes lax in his arms. “You don’t want to be let down buddy?” Chris shakes his head. Buck hmmed in acquiescence . 

As an eight year old, Chris is hesitant to let people hold him. He says he’s too old for it now. The first time it happened Eddie called Buck to drink with him. Buck agreed and listened as Eddie complained at how big his kid was getting. The fact that Chris was willing to be held right now meant that he was more scared than he appeared. It made Buck worry and want Eddie. He shouldn’t be here, Eddie needs to be here to console his kid. 

Buck hiked up Chris further up his hip then started walking. He didn’t know which way he should go, just hoped wherever he went would lead him to Eddie. 

---

Eddie fell asleep. He fell asleep on top of the awning waiting for something to happen. It wasn’t a great sleep, he kept seeing Christopher get torn away from him. Eddie shocked himself awake and took stock of his surroundings. The water was gone, leaving in its wake the debris it swept away. Also dead bodies. If Eddie had anything to puke up he’d be hurling. 

Okay, okay, you can’t stay here. You gotta go find your kid. How… Eddie thought. Call someone? Call Buck! Or Bobby or Carla! Hope invigorated him to pull his phone out despite the fact that his wrist was definitely broken. Hope left him when he saw his completely waterlogged phone. Okay Plan A was bust on to Plan B… whatever that was. 

The awning was connected to a pole that he could climb down. Best way to find his kid and his best friend was to look for them. Slowly he made his way to an edge of an awning. Then he edged himself off the edge slowly and feet first. Eddie wrapped his feet around the pole and shimmied down. 

There were a few stranglers around him, similarly confused and lost. He tried asking them if they’d seen his lost kid or best friend. Unhelpfully they shook their heads no. Eddie sighed and continued walking. 

----

Buck’s arms were on fire. His leg was also on fire. He’s pretty sure he was also bleeding something… not good. Holding Chris and walking around for hours in the hot sun hadn’t been kind to him. Buck was still searching for Eddie or a hospital. Finding Eddie was better than finding a hospital, but at this point he’d take either.   

Technically he had found two hospitals already, but they were filled to the brink. The wait was astronomical and there was no place to sit. And there was no Eddie. He let a nurse check Chris out and give them some supplies, water and granola bars, before heading out. In hindsight he should’ve also asked for a phone to call someone but he forgot. 

Chris had long since passed out in his arms. The kid's soft breaths on his necks was very reassuring. It was part of the reason Buck didn’t want to let him down. Another reason was because he wanted to physically pass Chris off to Eddie. Who is fine. He’s healthy and fit and able to carry his kid when Buck finds him. ‘Cause he will find him, Buck can’t not find him.

Chris shifting in his arm brought Buck back to the present. “Bucky? Bucky, I'm tired.”

“I know superman, you’re okay. I heard there's a new hospital a few blocks from here. They’ll be able to help us.”

“Okay Bucky. Can I have ice cream when we get there?”

“We deserve it don’t we? Still need to ask your dad though buddy.”

“Why? He’s not the boss of you?”

“This is a trick.”

--- 

After searching for Buck and Chris for five hours (and getting nowhere his evil mind adds) he’s starting to lose hope he can find them on his own. No one has seen a tall man in a pink button up nor a little boy in a yellow striped shirt. Eddie’s poor heart doesn’t know whether or not to implode at that. By now the sun has started setting. The winds aren’t as refreshing as they once were. 

As he made his way down another debris filled street, two first responders found him. Eddie resists their attempts at checking him over for any injuries at first. He needs to find his partner and his kid, but he’s also tired. The first responders seem to pick up on this. They promise him that they’ll help him find his kid and partner if he just cooperates. This is how they cajoole him into going to a hospital. With promises of phone calls to his kid and a message passed around to the other first responders that Firefighter Eddie Diaz of the 118 is looking for his partner Evan Buckley and his son Chris Diaz. 

This satisfies Eddie a great deal and he then becomes a much better patient. (He’s still grumpy and aloof, but now he’s tolerant). He’s almost fine, acquired a cut on his right arm, broke his left wrist, is dehydrated and exhausted. One of the first responders tosses him a bottle of water on the way to their destination. Eddie finds out when they arrive that it’s a VA hospital set up specifically as a halfway point for the sick and wounded. 

The first responders usher him in through the door and into the hands of a nurse. They describe his injuries, and tell her about his missing family. He’d correct them but the statement doesn’t feel wrong anyways. The nurse takes him to a free cot before giving him a check up too. 

The first responders hit the nail on the head with his list of injuries. Since it’s not severe he doesn’t need to be transported to the hospital right away, although it is recommended. She leaves to go get him pain meds and once again, Eddie is alone. The people in the cots beside him don’t count. Hell one’s unconscious and the other one is having an intimate looking conversion with a loved one. There are tears, Eddie looks away.

To keep himself busy Eddie makes a to do list of what he needs to do next. Find Christopher. Give him a big hug. Give Buck a big hug. Sleep. Tell people he’s okay. Buy a new phone. Buy ice cream. The last one isn’t technically an emergency but forgive him he’s in pain. 

The nurse comes back with a wrap for his wrist and disinfectant and band aids. He finishes his water while she works. The nurse tells him he’s lucky his wound isn’t infected. Eddie nods, mind focused on something else.

“This is awkward, but my phone got damaged in the tsunami and I need to tell some people I’m okay. Is it alright if I borrow your phone and make some calls?” 

The nurse smiles and nodds. She gets out her iphone, unlocks it and gets out the phone app. Eddie takes it gingerly and thinks of who to call first. His parents? Ha. He could call his sisters, but if they don’t know then he didn’t want to worry them. He’d call Tia Pepa but she’s probably with Abuela already so calling Abuela’s home phone is the best bet. 

She’s calm if not incredibly saddened when she picks up the phone. Abuela  lets out a fast stream of spanish that’s said through tears once she realizes its him. He waits patiently for her to finish talking before reassuring her she’s fine. Eddie wants to tell her about Christopher, but he’s worried about Abuela having a heart attack so instead he promises to bring Chris over for lunch tomorrow. He then talks to Tia Pepa for a bit, but there’s not much new to say because Abuela had the phone call on speaker. She thanks god that he’s okay and that he better see her as soon as possible.

When they hang up he immediately calls Bobby. As he waits for him to pick up the phone he gives the nurse a sheepish smile and promises that this is the last call. 

“Hello Bobby Nash, who is this?”

“Bobby? It’s Eddie, listen, my phone got damaged in the tsunami. Buck, Chris and I were at the pier and I can’t find them anymore Bobby.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Eddie, you need to breathe. Okay breathe.” Eddie rubs his hand over his eyes as he takes a deep breath. 

“Okay Where are you right now.”

“The new VA hospital they set up.”

“Okay I know where that is. I’m going to send out a message to keep an eye out for Buck and Christopher. I’ll also ask Maddie to start calling the hospitals to see if they have Buck. We’re going to find them okay Eddie. Buck’s a fighter, we’re going to find him and Chris.”

“I know Cap it’s just-.”

“Hey Hey, this isn’t your fault, you can’t blame yourself for this. Stay there at the hospital so we know where to send Buck and Chris when we find them.”

“Yeah okay, okay, okay.” 

“Okay, are you okay?”

“Umm yeah I’m fine, shallow cut and sprained wrist. I’m fine Cap, it's Buck and Chris.”

“I know that, but I worry about you too. I gotta go, they need me, but take care of yourself okay? Stay safe?”

“Yes sir.” Bobby hung up and Eddie gave the nurse back her phone. 

The nurse left almost immediately to tend to other patients. Eddie took a deep breath before taking the next step. He knew someone had to have a list of patients at this hospital somewhere, he just had to figure out who. Eddie got up from his cot to start looking around. 

The first few people were a bust. Lady #1 was actually a nurse who just finished tending to a patient. Man #2 was actually an off duty first responder helping out. Lady and Man #3 and #4 were family of some of the victims of the tsumai. Eddie was starting to get frustrated. He needed to find his son and partner quickly. The longer they were out there the more Eddie’s insides turned into knots. 

He walked forward towards the entrance and saw a woman with a clipboard. “Hello ma’am is that a list of patients for the VA hospital?”

The woman turned toward him and smiled politely. “Yes it is. Who are you looking for?”

“My son Christopher Diaz. He’s 8 years old and about 4 feet 5 inches tall. He was wearing a yellow striped shirt and khakis. I’m also looking for my partner Evan Buckley. Late twenties 6’2’’ wearing a pink button up, white shirt and some jeans. He has an identifiable birth mark on his right eyebrow that could be mistaken for a burn scar.”

The lady pursed her lips as she scanned through the papers. Eddie tried not to loom or tap his foot as he waited. When her face fell and she frowned he tried not to cry or get violent. “No, I’m sorry sir, I don’t have anyone like that listed here. They could be at another hospital, or,” the lady pointed to a nearby tent, “they could be there.” 

Eddie followed his gaze to the place she was pointing at. “The, the-” black trash bags were piled in front of a stark white tent. That could mean it was only one type of place. 

“I’m so sorry sir, if your family is actually there.” Eddie barely nodded at her, listlessly making his way over to the tent. Part of him wanted to believe that Buck and Christopher was at another hospital, but if they were, wouldn’t they have been found by someone. Wouldn’t Eddie have tangible proof that they were alive? Tears started streaming down Eddie’s face. His knees started to wobble as he started scanning through the list of the deceased kept just outside the doors of the tent.

---

“Eddie! Has anyone seen an Eddie Diaz?!” A loud voice echoed in the background. Eddie frowned. It sounded a lot like Buck, but he- the lady said he was-

“My name is Evan Buckley, have you seen Edmundo Diaz?” The voice was slightly softer this time. Eddie turned around and almost fell to his knees. There, bathed in the LED lights was his best friend clutching his child in his arms. Eddie sobbed and started running to them.

“Buck! Buck!” 

“Eddie?” Buck wanted to run to Eddie, but walking was hard enough. He stayed where he was and let Eddie run into him. It didn’t take long. Buck quickly felt Eddie wrap his arms around both him and Christopher. 

It was then in his best friend's arms that Buck finally let the weight of the day catch up to him. His knees buckled and he went boneless in Eddie’s arms. Said man took it like a champ, first he made sure he had a secure hold on Chris, then he let himself sink to the ground with Buck. The younger man rested his back on Eddie’s chest and relaxed. The uncomfortable, burning pressure on his legs and arms was finally eased. Buck made a happy little sigh and burrowed further into Eddie, just as Chris was doing in his sleep. Maybe he should’ve been embarrassed by it but he just spent over five hours slowly losing hope that he would ever find Eddie alive. It would take the fear of God to separate them. 

Eddie seemed to have the same idea. The arm that wasn’t around Christopher tightened around Buck’s waist. The younger man could hear his partner murmur prayers in what he thought was spanish. Tears, of what Buck hoped was relief fell from Eddie’s face onto Buck’s shoulder. 

“Oh god, oh my god, I thought- I-” Eddie rambled, finding his voice again.

“Hey, hey hey, I’m fine. Me and Chris are all right.”

Eddie made a disbelieving noise. “Okay my leg hurts like a bitch and I probably have one too many cuts, but it’s nothing life threatening.” 

“You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Not after the day I’ve had.”

“In a minute we should get you checked out.”

“Aww you can’t do it for me?” Buck shifted his head slightly to bat his eyes at Eddie.

“No, an unbiased professional should handle you,” Eddie whispered hoping the night sky would hide his blush. Buck nodded and listened to Eddie breathing. 

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Buck whispered, like a mantra. He brought Eddie’s hand up to rest above his heart so Eddie could feel his heart beat. “We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Even though Buck actually did need medical help, the trio stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the fact that all three of them were lucky enough to make it out alive and to return to each other. 

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is hard right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately following the path of straight and narrow is difficult when you find a blonde ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was easy. New experiences, new friends, new interests...what could go wrong?

Chapter 4: Fine. Fight Me

Content Warning: adult language, Cringy Situations, slight mentions of grinding

WC: 1.4K

AN: This is what I was listening to when I wrote this :)

It was a restless sleep to say the least. First you were hot, then you were cold. Hours of tossing and turning had passed until you finally realized you weren’t going back to sleep. You stared out the window at the night sky for a while contemplating on what to with yourself.

Glancing at your phone to check the time, it indicated that there was still an hour until sunrise. You huffed and swung your feet over the edge of the bed. You padded quietly to the bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing at the brightness.

You examined yourself in the mirror. You had faint dark circles under your eyes and disgusting eye boogers. You must have slept hard for the time you did sleep. Quickly you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Feeling slightly better, you brushed your hair and threw it up to get it out of your face.

When you retreated back to your room you opted to change your tank top into a sports bra with a loose cropped top. You put in your contacts carefully infront of the mirror hanging infront of your closet. Sliding some socks on, you picked up a pair of sneakers and headphones. Deciding to begin your work out, you took the three flights of stairs to the gym.

You paused for a moment infront of the gym doors to lace up your shoes. Making your way inside an audible gasp escaped you. The room was filled with expensive equipment. Rows of treadmills, bikes, bench presses, you name it, gleamed. “Planet Fitness doesn’t have shit on this place.” You drooled.

Finding an empty spot on the floor you began stretching. Once you were warmed up, your eyes darted from one thing to the next. Settling on running a few miles, you chose the treadmill in the corner, facing the wall. You clicked on your work out playlist and turned the volume up loud. You found you could think better with music flowing through your ears than silence.

You jogged for about 20 minutes before shifting to a run. The to do list for today formed rapidly in your head. You needed to buy the essentials, obtain a residency card and a metro pass, pick up your uniforms, and locate your hero costume. You didn’t exactly know where to go for any of these things, but you knew you needed to call Mr. Aizawa about the last part.

You began to think about your costume. You loved it with every fiber of your being. Designing it yourself, It was made to be a simple yet functional long sleeved black bodysuit. The sides were a breathable sapphire colored material. You adorned the same colored high boots with a thick heel that made it easy to run. Blue goggles were made especially to protect your eyesight from diminishing more, thick insulated gloves helped form your UV light, and a utility belt to hold your smaller support items.

Lost in your thoughts you realized you had ran about two miles and you were loosing steam. You turned off the treadmill, and tried to catch your breath. Your muscles ached and you shirt was sticking to your back. You felt gross. Closing your eyes you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face.

When you turned around and opened your eyes there stood Bakugo in all his shirtless glory. “Ugh, don’t look!” You cried out and pulled your shirt down, attempting to stretch the thin, white fabric over your stomach. If you weren’t mortified you probably would have tried to sneak a peak yourself. His cheeks dusted with a heavy blush as he dropped his weights onto the floor.

“I wasn’t fucking looking! You’re the one who flashed me!” He shouted, defensive he had been caught.

“I thought I was alone!” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to make yourself feel small. You had a banging body that you weren’t ashamed of, but your cleavage hanging out of an old, ratty sports bra infront of a guy you didn’t know was a different story.

“You live with 20 extras! You’re never alone!” Bakugo argued. He stared at the floor, not making eye contact with you.

“Clearly!” Your own blush not faltering. “How long have you been here?”

“Just long enough to hear the whole rendition of that Chris Brown song. Jesus, I thought some stray dogs were going to break in.” He laughed. You threw your head into your hands. You had to get out of here.

You hastily made your way to the exit. “Go to hell.” You called over your shoulder.

“See you there, Cherry. ” Bakugo called after you. You paused dead in your tracks, anger taking over you.

“You just always have to get the last word in don’t you?” You were fuming at this point. You never let anything bother you, but you had enough. He didn’t have to be rude to you all the time.

“You started it.” Bakugo grunted, now gaining his full attention once again. “ Look, I don’t care who the hell you are or where the hell you came from, we can go right here. Right now.” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, maintaining a hardened stance.

Turning on your heel, you stomped towards him. He was built and had the advantage of a few inches on his side, but that didn’t matter. You had taken on far scarier enemies. Your gaze bore into his. Without breaking eye contact, you responded. “Fine. Fight me.”

You could have sworn your answer took him by surprise. His face faltered slightly before turning back into the grimace he wore well. “No quirks. I’ll be damned if I pay for one more thing in this shithole.”

“I don’t need it.” You hissed. Taking him by surprise you hit him in the face, hard. He groaned, but it didn’t affect him as much as you were hoping. Bakugo countered and hit you with a jab to the side. Thank god something told you to move so when he connected with you there was only half the impact.

You two were going at it hard. Every move he made you matched. It was a pretty equal fight overall. You didn’t hold anything back. You let out all your aggressions and frustrations onto him. He took them in stride. If you weren’t so focused on winning this battle you might have realized you were having fun.

“This is all you’ve got, Cherry?” Bakugo taunted as he blocked another one of your punches. You knew you needed to end it fast because you didn’t have a whole lot left in you. You managed to kick his leg out from underneath him and twisted his arm behind him as he fell. You landed ontop of his back, straddling him, and held his arm tightly in place.

“You don’t have to like me, Bakugo. But you will respect me.” You huffed, feeling accomplished you kicked his ass. You held his head down so he couldn’t escape. He squirmed under you as a string of curses left his mouth. You remained like this for a few moments until he stopped moving. Smiling, you let up on his arm slightly, assuming all the fight left his body. You were wrong.

Bakugo used the opportunity of you loosening the grip and flipped the two of you. Your back was planted firmly on the floor, pinned under the weight of him. He held your wrists down to your head with both of his hands.

You both were panting messes, chests rising to meet each other and falling back into place. “I’ll be damned if you tell me what to do, Cherry. ” He hissed, just loud enough to make your head swim. It was a compromising position to say the least. If anyone were to walk in they’d assume the worst. Hell, you were beginning to assume the worst.

You shifted under his weight, planning your escape. There was no point in trying to use your arms, so you used your lower half to wrestle against him. The friction you caused was dangerous. You both felt it. You felt something press into you and you knew it wasn’t his phone. The gym felt like it was five hundred degrees.

You struggled to find your voice. “My name is Y/N.” You whispered. Giving up, you stopped resisting. This time he ground his hips into yours, not breaking eye contact. You moaned in response. You felt yourself throbbing to the core. Bakugo wasn’t dumb, he could tell you enjoyed it.

He leaned down and his lips hovered over yours. You held your breath and closed your eyes, waiting for his to meet yours.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Bakugo peeled himself off of you and left you laying on the floor alone without another word.

You grabbed your chest, “What the hell just happened?”

~~~~~~~~~

AN: Hi all! So if you’ve read the chapters before this one was posted you might be confused why Bakugo is calling Y/N Cherry. Well, after brainstorming ideas of the future chapters a thought came to mind referring to the panty incident of 2021, “Lane, he can’t call the reader pinky...that’s Mina’s hero name.”

That was a total face palm moment. So if you go back you’ll see I changed the underwear to black with cherries on it. Ok, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 😬

[floggingink]

OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU! 

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip? 

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest 

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.” 

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme 

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

[whirlybirbs]

                                          (   gif, again, by @barissoffee​ !    )

     —   STARJOCKEY & CO.   ;   2 of ?

summary: the bad batch gets a pilot, and they get a mission. acid rain happens. hunter & zip still don’t get along. no one is surprised. pairing: twi’lek!reader (zip nickname) x hunter word count: 3.2k a/n: pumping this out so i can write some hunter/reader content tonight to follow this character arc! we love some good ol’ action adventure acid rain! also, don’t try and neutralize acid with water, kids. that’s not how that works. but this is star wars, and it works here.

previous chapter   |   next (coming soon!)

It’s too early for this. 

Despite having a steaming thermos of caf in your hands, you still have to pull your eyes open wide and try not to sway on your feel as you remind yourself this debrief is important. Very important. 

Very early, but very important

Sleep, too, especially after the amount of hours you poured into repairs on the Havoc Marauder last night, is equally as important — but the debrief takes priority. For now. 

Maybe you can bribe D-M1 to pilot for a bit once you take off. Just so you can plant your head on the dash and doze for a minute. A loth-cat nap. 

Ugh -- a nap sounds good right about now. 

You take a long sip of caf and rub your face as Cody continues to speak, gesturing to the glowing blue holomap that casts a glow across the entire room.

Through the thick of the swirling mission debrief, Hunter is staring.

Well, more glaring, really.

(Can you blame him? His senses have been cranked to 12 since he was made, and still, he can’t ignore the smell of your morning beverage of choice. All he can smell is your caf and the elaborator creamer you’d put in it. It smells like cocoa and star-cherries and caf and it’s all Hunter can smell. It’s giving him a damn headache.)

You’re beginning to wonder if that’s all his stupid -- albeit handsome -- face does. The scowl there digs in deep, and you have to try your hardest not to roll your eyes as you take another sip of your caf. 

He’d walked in here, hauled the helmet off, and you’d realized Cody was right when he said they didn’t look like the other clones you knew. They were all different -- higher cheekbones on Crosshair and a sharper profile on Hunter. Tech was small and boggly-eyed, while Wrecker towered over everyone in the room with his round ol’ dome.

They were nothing like the others from the 212th. 

Your lekku twitch, swatting a bit, as your attention moves from challenging Hunter’s glare back to the debrief at hand. 

Hunter, as he pries his eyes away from your cock-hipped posture, wonders how  in hell a civvie like you managed to land this job. He’d much rather have a reg flying him and his brothers around than a ex-criminal and her junkyard droid.

... He heaves an inward sigh. 

Maybe he’s being a dick. 

Cody trusts you. Hunter can at least try... 

... Right?

Hunter diverts his attention back to Cody’s words, ignoring the unsettling idea of being civil with you. “What’s the status of Yanibar’s alliance?”

“None,” Cody drops a hand to his hip, resting it on his holster, “Neutral -- but it lays between the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. The inhabitants tend to be those running from things like the war. But, I’m sure the Separatists will have their eye on the space ports for GAR officials. It’ll be basic recon. You fly in under the radar, scope out the manufacturing lab on Yanibar, and get out.”

Cody pauses, takes in the affirmative nods of the room, then continues:

“And lucky for all of you -- that ship in the hangar has no Republic tags. You’re gonna be a ghost.”

“No Republic tags?” Hunter asks, dark brow lifting. 

“We’ll be off the books -- Seps will think we’re probably just smugglers,” you shrug, explaining as Tech hums quietly at the realization, “Knowing them, they won’t wanna start anything with locals. Especially if they’re break neutrality laws and mining a planet in the grey zone.”

“Exactly.”

You cop a smirk Cody’s way. “Now I know why you kept that bucket of bolts.”

“Repo’s have their uses,” the Commander shirks, “And civvie pilots, too.”

Now this is all starting to make sense. They wanted you to play the part -- and with any luck, the boys in the back cargo hold will go unnoticed as you carry on on Yanibar. 

D-M1 pipes up from her spot below the holo-map. “Zip plays a wonderful smuggler. Four varying counts of weapons, drug and wildlife trade have made her --”

“Alright, alright,” we swat at the droid’s bobbing head, “I swear, who ever programmed you should be shot.”

The droid makes a sound akin to a laugh. Cody snorts.

Hunter ignores the distrust settling under his skin. 

“Everyone got the plan?” Cody asks, looking around the command center. When he’s met with silence, he nods to dismiss the Bad Batch and their new pilot, “Alright. Head out. Comm in if there’s any trouble.”

“You got it, Commander.”

“Hunter?” Cody calls, “Zip?”

You both linger in the doorway. 

“Play nice, yea?” he grins, “And good luck.”

--   ↯   --

You realize, six hours later, as you hang yourself out of the landing ramp mid-flight, trying desperately to get a hold on Crosshair who’s trying to get a hold on Hunter, that Cody jinxed you.

He most definitely jinxed you.

--   ↯   --

The mission had started just fine, after all -- the ride was fast, the travel checkpoints passed with no trouble, and you’d entered Yanibar’s airspace on a pretty mild day. No questions were asked when you dropped the Havoc Marauder down fifteen klicks outside of the nearest space port. The boys off-loaded and headed for the manufacturing plant. 

The landscape gave enough cover as if it. 

Large, sweeping stone outcroppings punctured the dunes and climbed high towards the sky, casting long jagged shadows in the golden sand. Creatures moved with the shade, relaxing along the cooling surfaces as the suns moved high in the sky. 

Parked in a ravine and hidden from sight, you’d spent the first two hours monitoring the location of the Batch; every half hour, Tech would radio in giving an update on their location. By hour four, they were close. By hour five, the line had gone silent.

And you were starting to get nervous. 

Their geo-coordinates marked them about 30 klicks East -- in the estimated area of the manufacturing lab they were slotted to recon. 

By hour five and a half, the sun was disappearing. Slowly, with clouds shrouding the sky, but... the spaces between the brown clouds were turning a muddied color. You leaned, squinting over the dashboard with a confused look, before moving to the back of the ship and punching open the landing ramp. 

When you stepped into the hot, mid-day heat, you realized exactly what was happening. You kicked yourself for not realizing sooner.

D-M1′s the one that made a panicked sound. 

“We’ve got a problem!”

You were fast, bounding up the ramp and skidding inside as you slam the lock for the door on your way to the cockpit -- in a flash, you’d started up the engine and flicked alive the comms.

“Boys,” you yelped, pulling the headset on over your lekku, “We’ve gotta get a move on, now.” 

Hunter, elbows deep in a dune with his eyes plastered to a pair of specs, cursed. Your voice crackled from his helmet, resting between him and Crosshair, and Hunter was almost inclined to ignore it.

But, the sniper tapped his wrist without looking from his scope and spoke. 

“Go ahead, Zip.”

“Acid rain storm,” you blurted out, leaning as D-M1 points at the meteorological gauge in her little hands in a panic. The radar swept across the map once and showed the brewing storms, “About five klicks South of me.”

You knew acid rain storms. The planet you’d grown up on had them enough -- and even Coruscant had them. But, the color of these clouds...

Your father always used to say, the dirtier the cloud, the quicker the shroud. 

Y’know, like death shrouds? 

“-- Shit.”

Hunter was hoping that feeling in his gut was nothing. He should have listened to it.

“She couldn’t a’ told us sooner?” Hunter gritted out, pushing up from his elbows in a flash. Not entirely fair, but damn. This was not going according to plan. First the patrol droids and now --

A deep bellow of thunder rolled in the distance, then.

And now this. 

Crosshair inhaled sharply and proceeded to silently snap the attached scope from his rifle in one swift, practiced move. He’s not gettin’ in the middle of this.

“Unless you boys wanna melt your pretty armor,” came your voice, crackling alive in Hunter’s helmet as he pulled it over his head, “I’d say we hurry this little play date up --”

And that’s the precise moment Wrecker snapped one of three patrol droids over his thigh, much to Tech’s despair, and sent the entire op down the shitter. 

You found the squadron, then, pinned in a rain of blaster-fire, trading shots with the handful of B1′s -- their shots lit up the kicked up sand from the winds, beginning to howl as the dark brown clouds to the South began to loom over the once sunny dunes. 

“Bring it down low, Deemi!” you hollered, throwing your headset as you moved to the back of the ship, “Get ready to go when they’re loaded on!”

“Got it!”

You punched the ramp, pulling your green tinted goggles down over the slop of your nose as the door opened. Taking a braced step out, you were fast to spy the boys as the Havoc Marauder began to lower itself slowly. 

Then, a blaster bolt skimmed your head -- it leaves a charred sizzzzle against the matte black paint job of the repo’d ship.

You leaned back, tugging your pistol from you hip and firing a quick volley back at the droid who’d aimed for your head. After three shots, you nailed the B1 unit down, and turned your attention back to the Bad Batch. 

You’re about to wave Deemi down, to tell her to plant the ramp on a rising dune then, when an entire squadron’s worth of battle droids lumbered from the back entrance of the manufacturing plant and began laying down fire on you and the ship. 

“SWING IT AROUND!” Hunter screamed, waving you off.

Deemi listened, and you fell back through the door as the ship pulls away fast from the oncoming fire. Your back hit the navicomputer’s paneling hard as the ship banked left, and your breath flew from your lungs as you did, gritting your teeth tightly at the impact. 

You scrambled, quickly, to watch from the open side-ramp as the entirety of the plant came into view. 

It’s huge. 

A main control tower rises high in the sky, above the three conveyor bays that spark through the small slitted windows three stories up. The walls are encroached by dunes, and the desert threatens to swallow it up. 

As Deemi banked wide, you planted your boot on the doorway as you watched the firefight disappear around the edge of the massive building. 

And that’s when it started to rain.

You hissed loudly then, immediately drawing a hand back when a fat droplet of brownish water hits your skin. Cursing as you swiped away the acidic liquid, you scowled at the welt it left behind. 

And if the from the drop in temperature was any indication, it was about to pour.

“Deemi,” you screamed, “I’m gonna need you to speed it up!” 

You were fast to stagger back from the doorway, moving to haul the bottom of your flight suit up -- the sleeves, tied neatly over your belt, are yanked onto your arms and over the black compression top. You zipped the collar up tight and moved to the storage built into the bunk atop the navi-console.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, digging around. You knew you saw a poncho somewhere and -- “Aha!”

It’s not much, but it at least covered your lekku. If anything it will keep the sensitive skin of the head-tails safe enough for a few minutes. You hauled the black, weatherproof poncho over your head and ignore the musty smell coming from it -- just in time, too, as Deemi had propelled the engines into a kick for the banking maneuver and the Bad Batch was in sight again. 

The moment you and Deemi get in range, the skies opened up. 

It starts raining so hard you could hardly see -- and the headlamps of the boys illuminated the muddied downpour a few feet ahead of them. Deemi bought the ship down low enough that the ramp connects with the tip of a dune, and you staggered a bit on the impact.

The ship’s lights cast bright cones of light into the acid rain storm, and Tech is the first one through the doors. You curse, ignoring the tingling sting of the rain splashing on your face, and call out to the others. 

“GET ON!” 

Wrecker is next, passing you and launching himself through the doors with a curse -- the droids have seemed to back off, leaving the squadron to book it as the acidity begins to gnaw at their armor. You can hear a commotion behind you, and assume it’s Tech snagging the gallon of filtered water stored under the refresher sink to dowse himself and the heavy artillery man. 

Next is Crosshairs, who you reached out to as he planted a boot on the edge of the ramp -- without warning and rather suddenly, the ship gave a terrible moan. Then, unceremoniously, the dune the ramp had been perched upon tumbled downwards into a slip of mud.

The landscape was melting, and so was your poncho.

In a panic, you grabbed Crosshair’s vambrace and barely managed to snag the ramp’s guard rail; in a flash, Crosshair had Hunter’s hand secured in his own. Good thing, too, since the Sergeant’s boots now hung thirty feet in the air where the tip of the towering dune used to be. 

And that’s where you find yourself now.

Cursing, you strain to readjust your grip on the railing as rain runs down your chin. It stings like a bitch -- but you can’t help but think the pull of your arm is a little worse. 

You curse sharply in Ryl, and scream Wrecker’s name so harshly the trooper’s heart nearly stops. His helmeted head whips around.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE!” 

Your knuckles, beneath the thick flight gloves have gone from a warm peach to a pale yellow -- the strain there is only relieved when Wrecker finally moves to the other side of the ramp and grabs Crosshair’s upper arm; together you both haul the two troopers up onto the ramp as Deemi’s banks backwards -- a few moments too late -- and sends a pile of acid rain soaked bodies tumbling back into the belly of the ship. 

The droid closes the ramp as she banks away from the manufacturing plant.

You don’t even have time to celebrate the sheer survival of the stunt -- you’re instead stripping off the poncho that’s now got Republic credit sized holes eaten into it. You whip off your goggles, and curse again -- your flight suit is starting to sizzle and the acid on your face hurts and --

Suddenly, you take a whole bucket of water to the face and it all stops.

Tech, standing there clutching the now empty bucket, looks rather sheepish. 

Your shoulders immediately sag in relief, and the troopers behind you are the next victims of Tech’s hose-down. Deemi, from the front of the ship, asks if she should drop into hyperspace and the entire cabin gives a dejected chorus of yes at the same time. 

You wipe the neutral water, running over your nose and chin, from your face as you sit down in one of the chairs by the navicomputer. 

Hunter drops his hands to his waist, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and opens his mouth to speak.

You, instead, cut him off with a single raised finger and a pointed look.

“You,” you snap, “Don’t get to say a word to me until my face is not swollen and Tech can confirm I don’t have acid rain poisoning. Understood?”

Hunter just snaps his mouth shut. You have welts down your cheeks from where your goggles met your skin. Your lekku, too, don the same blistered orange marks. Guilt suddenly washes over him, only for a second. He’d gotten off easy. The acid rain had only eaten through the first layer of his composite armor.

The whole cabin, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable, decides to go their separate ways. Hunter, though, doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you stand and inspect the now shredded flight suit that hangs off of you. You move across the cabin quickly, not bothering to avoid him. 

You slam your shoulder into his and keep moving.

--   ↯   --

You don’t have acid rain poisoning.

Which is good, you guess.

But, the residuals still hurt -- bad. 

You throw yourself into the far-too-small ship refresher for a rinse off -- Wrecker was nice enough to insist you get to go first (“For savin’ our skins an’ all, Zippy!”) and you can’t help but snort at Tech’s face when you emerge in a clean flight suit. He looks worried.

You’ve got welts all over your face. 

“I think it’s a cute look,” you jab playfully, leaning to inspect your reflection in the polished chrome door, “Don’t you, Tech?”

“Looks painful.”

Crosshairs laughs. 

The welts on your lekku are. You’d had to smother the startled yelps with your hand when the hot water made contact. You hope the boys hadn’t heard.

(Hunter certainly had, and he wasn’t even in the lower level of the ship. He was up top, ignoring the dull ache in his arm and pretending he didn’t need to rinse off. It had sparked a little worry in him, though, and he’d casually muscled his helmet on to do some digging on the holo-net about potential complications from injured lekku. The results were... not ideal.)

You massage the point on the back of your neck where your headwrap normally clasps together, keeping the animated little appendages under control and out of the way. You’ve forgone it now, and Crosshair watches as you sigh quietly as you rub the tension point. 

You look different without it. A bit softer.

“It doesn’t feel great, but,” you shrug, shoulders a bit more relaxed than before, “I’ll be fine. Definitely the worst acid bath I’ve had in a while.”

“You’ve been caught in those storms before?” Tech asks, surprised. He’s placing his helmet down, stripping his armor as he speaks. 

“I grew up in the South Tann Province,” you explain, “The jetstreams would carry polluted air through during the summer months, and sometimes the rain would be bad -- tarkona taka, my dad used to call it. But, that, back on Yanibar? That was worse than anything I’d ever experienced when I was a little girl.”

“Tarkona taka,” Tech sounds out, “What does it mean?”

“Brown weather -- or, storm, actually,” you grin, “Tak is brown, and tarkona is storm.”

“Yeah, well,” Wrecker supplies, muscling around through the barely stocked fridge in the far corners of the meager living quarters. Behind the microscopic kitchenette lay a hall of four bunks. Wrecker closes the door looking dejected, “I can’t wait to be back on Coruscant. No brown rain there.”

“On the lower levels there is!” you call out, spurring Wrecker’s shoulders to sag.

You move towards the ladder, planting a boot on the bottom rung when Crosshair’s calls out.

“Careful, Zip.”

“He still pissy?” you ask, loud enough that you know Hunter can hear, “Shame.”

The three members of the Bad Batch snort quietly as you move up the ladder anyway.

They like you.

And Hunter, still, doesn’t. 

[ickle-ronniekins]

to have and to hold

request from nonnie: Hey I'm 17 and still sleep with stuffed animals.... can you write something where George finds out and teases you about it? I know I'm a bit weird but I cuddle in my sleep so it's hoard stuffed animals or kidnap my cat (dangerous).

word count: 3.3k

pairing: george x reader

A/N: y’all i love this—totally nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffed animals, THEY’RE SO CUDDLY! and that’s what they’re for! thank you for reading and requesting, i’m so grateful for you all, and in case anyone’s wondering, i’m still irrevocably head over heels for these silly boys. also the title’s a tad misleading but there’s no marriage in this but it’s definitely all FLUFF because i’m a dork

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added darlings!

The Sorting Hat cries Ravenclaw! as a young, brown haired girl jumps from the stool and gleefully makes her way over to her respective House table.

Everyone begins to clap, and although he doesn’t feel much like it, George does too.

He’s a bit taken aback when you say to him suddenly, “I can’t believe that was us only a few short years ago.”

Just a few months ago, it seemed as though your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was still a long while away. It couldn’t be creeping up that quickly, could it? You both met only six years ago in Transfiguration, but it feels like a lifetime. George grins at the memory. But now, sitting and watching the newest first years get placed into their Houses, he’s feeling the nerves of the finality of it all—even though you’re not there yet. Not exactly.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he asks you, watching another student jump up excitedly and run to the Hufflepuff table. More claps ensue. “There’s no way this is our last year here, right? We must be dreaming, or something.”

A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, and George feels his insides go warm. “Of course,” you reply, “we’re dreaming.”

“Would you two quit being so melancholy?” Fred takes you by surprise when he kicks both of you underneath the table. “It’s our final year! It’s exciting! We’ve got loads of mischief planned, Y/N, and we expect your help.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to get out of this, is there?”

The twins smile and chorus together, “Nope.” before diving head first into the feast that’s just appeared in front of you all.

“Ah well—it is exciting, isn’t it? We’ve got a lot to look forward to!” you tell them, cutting into the piece of chicken on your plate, “and besides.. with whatever you two have planned? I reckon I’m bound for some type of adventure. Things could be worse, right?”

Just then, a sickeningly sinister giggle emits from the front of the Great Hall; the three of you look at a woman dressed in all pink, whose face resembles that of an old toad, chatting animatedly with Dumbledore who’s looking positively woebegone.

“Ugh,” you say, looking back and forth between the twins, “maybe I’ve spoken too soon.”

— -

You’re tiptoeing next to George in the middle of the corridor; you keep whirling around to check if anyone’s behind you. Months, you’ve been doing this. He can’t help but grin at your flustered state. “D’you really think this is a good idea?” you ask him stealthily as the two of you meander throughout the castle halls.

“Of course,” he replies, squeezing your hand. But inside, he’s just not entirely sure. By the sounds of what Harry’s said, getting detention with Umbridge is no walk in the park. He turns back to you and continues, “Don’t worry—Harry knows what he’s doing. Plus, we haven’t been caught yet, have we?” He jabs you in the ribs and teases you, “Where’s that sense of adventure we so admire? Oi, here’s Fred and Ginny.”

Just then, the two Weasley siblings round the bend and quite literally bump into you both. Fred says quietly, “Merlin help me—I can’t ever remember where this bloody room is,”

“Seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,” you reply in a lowered voice, your eyes shifting across the corridors, “so you’ve got a flew floors to go, Freddie.”

Both he and George laugh; Fred continues, “You’d think after months of going to these meetings, I’d remember where it is?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny elbows Fred, teasing him slightly. “C’mon then, let’s go—looks like the coast is clear,”

The four of you make your way up two more flights of steps, sneak past the tapestry, and finally find yourselves inside the Room of Requirement.

It’s an easy lesson today; with the impending Christmas holidays, everyone is in quite a chipper mood—the Room of Requirement has a light, airy feel to it, and everyone seems to be doing their best at all of the defensive magic Harry’s taught so far—even Neville! When he dismisses you for the day, noting that you probably won’t meet again until the New Year, a dramatic groan nearly shakes the room—it seems as though everyone wants to stay.

When you all land back in the common room and take a seat next to the fire, Fred immediately begins to market his and George’s products to a bunch of excited looking Gryffindors; to you, George just shrugs.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you begin, standing up from the couch and gesturing George toward the dormitory, “I think I’ve fixed that little issue with the Fever Fudge.”

George grins broadly; there’s not many people he and Fred trust with their products, but you? You’re basically a third owner. He stops short, though, at the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. You shake your head and say, “No worry, most everyone’s gone home for the holidays already. Plus—I’ve already hoodwinked whatever spell the professors have cast.”

“So I won’t get caught, then?”

“Nah,” you reply, urging him forward, “I’m strangely brilliant at derailing bits of professional magic,”

He beams at you at this and follows up to the girls dormitory, leaving Fred with a room full of students eager to get their hands on all Weasley products.

It doesn’t look as different from the boys' dorms as he thinks; it’s pretty much the same setup, same four posters, similar looking curtains. He shrugs, thinking, Nothing to worry about, but when he notices you plop down on your bed, he suddenly feels his insides constrict. You pat the spot next to you and say, “Well c’mere, won’t you?”

He places himself down next to you, careful not to mess your very neat bedspread, while he watches you rummage through a bit of your trunk. “Ah—here we are,” you say brightly, pulling out the box of Fever Fudge you’d hidden so as not to be stolen, “good as new, Georgie. The fevers, now, should stop at the appropriate number we’ve discussed—they shouldn’t continue to spike as the evenings go on. Any problems, let me know!”

“You’re brilliant, truly,” he says, peering down at the box of his own inventions. “How did you get so bloody good at this?”

You smile sweetly at him and flip your hair, “Just got lucky, I suppose.”

He laughs and is about to head back downstairs, careful not to mess up anyone’s things, when he spots a little brown bear on your bed near your pillows. His lips curl into a grin, “Erm.. Y/N,” he begins, pointing to the stuffed bear, “what is that?”

Suddenly you jump onto your bed and try to secretly slip this tiny little animal behind all of your pillows. The rosy pink color of your cheeks is evident in the sunlight flooding the windows, “Erm—what’s what, George?”

He places the box of fever fudge down on the table next to your bed, and walks slowly over to you. With a mischievous grin on his face, he continues, “Don’t make me jump on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But I would.”

And as soon as he says it, he does it; he flops down dramatically, ruining your very tidy sheets. He begins to poke you in the ribs, a tickling of some sort, to try and get you to move. It seems to work, because he grabs the bear from behind your back and you both fall backwards, next to one another, laughing quite animatedly.

He waits with bated breath for you to explain yourself. “Shove off, Georgie,” you say, stealing the bear back from him, twirling it in your fingers and peering at it. You offer to continue, “My mum gave him to me when I was a baby. When I was born. A little ‘coming home’ gift, if you will.”

“You mean to tell me,” George begins, “that you’ve had this for seventeen years?”

You roll your eyes and stifle a bit of laughter. You roll off of the bed, stand up, and place the bear delicately into your trunk. You pull George into an upright position and say, “This conversation’s over. C’mon—let’s bring Fred the fixed Fever Fudge,”

“This conversation is certainly not over,” he teases.

“It’s a source of comfort, you git!” you reply, slapping him playfully across his chest.

“Comfort,” he echoes through a chuckle, “right. And he’s here now because.. you need comforting after a long Potions lesson with Snape?”

You slap him again as you both begin to laugh. “Yes,” you tell him straightforwardly, “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, after a long day, I just need something to hug, to hold whilst I sleep, alright? Quit the teasing,”

Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to pull you into an embrace washes over George; he wants, more than anything, to just curl up with you on your bed right now, and to hug you for as long as you need. He’s about to do so, when you pull him by his hand and say, “Oh come on—can’t leave your brother waiting, can we?”

George can’t help himself; he just needs to tease you. Just a little bit more. He begins to tickle your waist when he calls in a sing-song voice down the stairs, “Oh, Freddie!”

You turn and grab his arms; even though he’s feeling rather mischievous, the butterflies are swirling around his stomach, as well. A sinister smirk tugs at the edges of your lips and he feels as though his entire body goes rigid when you wink at him, “Don’t you dare.”

— -

When Ginny enters the portrait hole, she’s surprised to see George slumped in an armchair and not with Fred, off creating some sort of chaotic mischief right underneath Umbridge’s nose.

“No pranks today?” she asks, sinking beside him on the couch.

“Reckon you didn’t see Angelina hanging all over Fred in the Great Hall, then?”

“Guess I must’ve missed it,” she rolls her eyes, and they both smile. “Speaking of—how are things going with Y/N?”

George is slightly taken back; he peers at Ginny with a confused expression and she just shakes her head at him. He knows that everyone else sees right through him, but he never expected his younger sister to bring it up. Guess he’s the type of bloke who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Erm, I mean—things are fine.”

“Things are most certainly not fine. Why haven’t you told her?”

George has been preparing for this—whether it was to come from a sibling or a friend—he knew, down the line, someone would question him as to why you two aren’t together. He slumps back into the couch and twirls his wand in both his hands. “Well—‘cause, we’re leaving soon, aren’t we? Fred and me. Just doesn’t make sense at this point.” He sinks a little lower, and his face turns sullen. “I’ve missed my chance. It’s too late, Gin.”

Just then, you pop inside with Dean and Seamus, giggling animatedly about some silly joke one of them made, and you raise your hand to George and Ginny before quickly heading upstairs to the girls dormitory to change out of your uniforms. There’s a tug at George’s heart—if only he could sneak up there without anyone seeing.

“Hey,” Ginny snaps her fingers at him, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him out of his daydream-like state, “It’s never too late.”

“You think?”

Ginny raises her eyebrows when she notices you coming back down the stairs and making a b-line right toward them. Quietly, she tells him, “I reckon she’ll think the same.”

When you seat yourself down next to them and Ginny quickly changes the conversation, George can’t help but grin goofily at the bunny slippers you have on. You sit yourself comfortably on the couch next to him, cross your legs, and blow lightly on your steaming cup of tea while Ginny relays the story of her brilliant Bat Bogey hex in the last DA meeting to you. Each and every time you smile broadly, George can feel himself shifting closer and closer to you.

— -

“The devil incarnate, she is,” Ron tells his siblings darkly. He peers down at the top of his hand, running his fingers over his silky smooth skin, knowing exactly what is about to happen as the DA prepares for a detention with Umbridge.

Harry shakes his head and replies, “Just try not to think on it all too much. It’ll be over before we know it.” He’s still looking on edge, sleep deprived. The whispers of other members can be heard slightly as Umbridge makes her way down the corridors.

“How is this even legal?”

“Where’s Professor Dumbledore? She can’t possibly get away with this.”

The Great Hall is darker than normal; the hour and a half spent there is some of the most draining George has felt in his entire life. It’s as if the writing alone is setting his soul on fire. Or, perhaps, is it the weak smile and look of pure anguish you give him from a few rows over? He can’t help but feel extremely protective, and he’s shooting daggers at Umbridge each and every chance he gets.

When you’re all finally released, Umbridge giggles in a mocking, satisfied tone. She makes her way back to her office as all of the members of the DA walk begrudgingly back to their common rooms, completely ignoring the apologies of Marietta Edgecombe, who, by the looks of it, is now regretting her decision of giving up the DA to Umbridge.

The Gryffindor common is filled with students looking positively sullen, almost each and every one of them running their fingers over their red, raw, and bloodied hands. George hops through the portrait hole and notices you in the corner, talking animatedly with Ginny and Fred.

“I swear,” Fred’s saying as George sits himself down next to you, “she’s barking mad.”

“You’d think she’d end up in Azkaban after pulling a stunt like this,” you agree, tracing the outline of the cuts on your hand with your finger, “but I reckon she can get away with anything.”

“I reckon you’re right,” George says, leaning his arms on his knees. He takes a deep breath and opts to continue, “how could she possibly get away with something like this?”

Ginny offers, “It’s the bloody Ministry.”

There’s a collective groan from all of you. Ginny shakes her head and continues, “Mum and Dad are going to go wild, you know; this isn’t over. By the way, speaking of Mum and Dad—you two planning on telling them that you’re leaving in a few weeks time?”

George suddenly feels his heart stop. Next to him, you look frantically back and forth between him and Fred, a confused expression plastered across your face. Fred is shaking his head, Ginny’s cheeks are flooding with color, and George is dreading the next conversation.

“You’re—you’re leaving?” you ask, stunned. “When?”

“Gin, we only told you because you overheard us the other night,” Fred says through gritted teeth. Then, he softens and says to George, “but.. I reckon it’s maybe time we tell a few people, eh Georgie?”

“Oh no,” Ginny says sheepishly, looking down at the floor. But you just grin weakly at her as she pulls Fred to his feet and they make their way over to the other end of the common room, most likely to tell Ron of their plans. You hope Ginny isn’t feeling too guilty.

George swallows thickly and then begins, “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at his apology, “You don’t need to apologize to me.” You place your hand over his and wait with bated breath for him to tell you what’s going on. You smile broadly at him when he begins to explain.

“We’re, erm, heading out a bit early, you see,” George begins, his eyes shifting from yours to the floor, “we’ve got these grand plans for a business to open up—in Diagon Alley, actually.. sell our inventions. Reckon it could become quite successful if we market correctly—”

His heart is thundering against his rib cage, surely trying its best to escape his chest, and he’s nervous that you’re not going to approve, you’re going to be angry, you won’t ever talk to him again. But to his surprise, you throw your arms around him excitedly and pull him into a bone crushing hug. He’s relaxing in your arms as he listens to your squeals of delight, breathing in the scent of your hair, focusing on the way your body feels beneath his fingertips. And when you pull away from him and shake his shoulders slightly, with both a bright smile on your face and tears in your eyes, you tell him, “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re talking quickly, shaking your head admiringly, throwing your hands into the air and running them through your hair, chuckling lightly, blinking quickly to push back any tears rising to the surface, but he can’t even hear what you’re saying. All George can hear is the pounding in his ears from the steady beat of his own heart, and not before long, he’s laughing at your exasperated state and is leaning in to kiss you, pressing his lips gently to yours and melting into something that’s been building up for years and years. The tension and surprise is subsiding, and you’re playing absentmindedly with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck and you’re both ignoring the annoying whistles from his siblings near the fireplace, and you’re quite certain that George is making a rather inappropriate hand gesture at them across the room for interrupting your moment.

When you two finally part, George grins broadly at you, his hands still shaking slightly due to the adrenaline rush and he asks you, not bothering to answer Fred’s whistles at all, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?!” you cry out, still obviously rather electrified from both the news and the kiss, “No! I’m not mad.. how could I be? I’m so excited for you both. I hope you’ll know I’ll be coming round to visit all the time.”

“Well, you better,” he replies cheekily, pulling at the collar of your shirt. Then, “I’m really going to miss you these last few weeks.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you reply breathlessly, and he now feels a tug at his heartstrings. He’s feeling nervous. Off balance. Do you still want to be with him after he leaves? Can you two survive on letters alone until after you graduate? “Do you, erm—I mean, I know I’m leaving, but—”

You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over the light stubble on his cheeks. A feeling of warmth overtakes him when you grin, peering into his yearning eyes, “We’ll make it work.”

He pulls you into his arms, and the calls from Fred and the others don’t seem to subside in the slightest. “We’re being summoned,” you tell George, leaning back against his chest. You pull out some of their inventions from your own pocket, things they’d given you early on; a pygmy puff, a screaming yo-yo, extendable ears, and more. You begin fiddling with them in your fingers and George grins against your shoulder.

“D’you want to go?”

You intertwine one of your hands in his. “Just hold me for a while first, would you?”

He giggles softly and wraps his arms tighter around you. Teasing begins to bubble up inside him and he can’t help it, he just has to say it. “Don’t you want to go and get your bear first?”

He expects the playful slap across his chest, he grins goofily when you begin to laugh, but what he doesn’t expect is what you say next. He’s practically putty in your hands when he pulls you closer and breaths in your scent when you reply,

“Reckon I don’t need it—I’ve got something else to hold, now.”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading darlings, ily so <3