#I can barely sleep so I’m barely functioning

[sxneie]

older rory pt2 

rory peters x fem reader (obv). this is basically a part 2 to this post so if you want to have an idea on how to imagine rory go to that one. lol srry this is more self indulgent to me i love older men and im so obsessed with jonathan cherry atm like yes tear me up old man

also cw: oral sex, age gap

you wake up the next morning in a bed that isn’t yours. you gather your senses and realize who’s house you’re in— it’s rory’s. you think back to last nights events, how his mouth felt against yours, skilled hands roaming all over you, the way his larger body felt like it was consuming you whole.. how you wanted to go farther but he said not yet. 

he let you spend the night because it was late so he gave you a shirt of his to sleep in. you two slept together in the same bed but he turned away from you to be respectful, but you really wish he touched you that night. 

as pull the the cover off your body and pad through the hallway, you see rory sitting down in his living room. he makes eye contact with your figure and begins to greet you. 

“oh, hey babe, how was your sleep? i made breakfast for you.” rory says in a cheerful tone. but god all you can think about how good he looks right now. he’s wearing a plain black tshirt, but you can see the slight peek of chest hair creeping from under the hem. it makes your mouth water.

you’re not hungry for food at all. you walk over to him and you go to stand in front of him, and right as your about to sit right on his lap, he stops you. 

“look, baby, we can’t do this. i know i got caught up in the moment last night.. but i’m so much older than you, it would be wrong.” rory says with a solemn look on his face, stressfully pushing his hair away. he then stands up, now towering over you. he takes his right hand and cups your face while softly rubbing the apple of your cheek. 

“even if you are so fucking beautiful.” he states and stares with the hottest intensity in his eyes. and it makes you whimper so loudly at his words. 

“please...” you’re so soaked right now you can barely even comprehend what you're saying please to. 

“please what, baby?”

“please-! touch me, fuck me. something!! i don’t care about your age. if anything it just makes me want you more!!” you moan out and you know you’ve ruined your underwear. you’re heaving and out of breath simply from the proximity and his warm strong hand still caressing your face. 

rory says nothing when his resolve breaks, but the fiery kisses he begins to place on your needy mouth speaks for itself. you kiss him back immediately, pushing your body against his, trying to find some friction against him. he knows what you want, but he doesn't want to sleep with you so quickly. he won't take advantage of a cute, young woman such as yourself.

“listen, i won’t fuck you today, but i will make you feel good, okay?

he sits back down onto the couch, leans back, spreads his legs and pats his thigh. you don’t have to be told twice. once you’ve made you’re comfortable on his lap, he grabs your head and kisses your mouth slow. you’re so hot you can’t even function. 

he’s trying to distract you with the fact that his hand is rubbing and squeezing up your warm thigh. but it not distracting enough when you fell him cup the mound of your pussy, fingers pressing down on your clit. 

you moan out “rory” from finally getting that friction you so desperately wanted. 

“fuck, you’re soaked. you should not be wet for someone so much older than you, baby.” he tuts at you. you can do anything but whine and moan and he rubs your “clothed” pussy. it’s so wet you don’t think you can deem it as clothing anymore, and apparently he thinks so too as he pushes past the fabric and slides his middle and ring finger deep into your tight pussy. your moans become louder as you immediately take them and start riding his fingers. 

“oh my god, im gonna cum!!” 

“fuuck. already? that’s a new world record, baby.” he says and you know he has the smuggest smirk gracing his face known to man. he starts becoming sloppier with the way he fingerfucks your cunt. letting your slick trickle down all the way to his palm as you orgasm all over his fingers. 

you slump over on his body, face in his neck as you try calm down. you find comfort in the scratchiness of his beard. he lets you sit for a few minutes as he strokes your back. then flips you and over and you’re now the one sitting on the couch. you look up at him a bit surprised. 

“ohhh no, were not done yet. give me the tie in your hair." you hair comes down and you give him the tie. you’re still breathing heavily and coming down from your orgasm as you watch him tie his hair up. you let out a breathy giggle watching him. 

he then chuckles too. “you’re not about to be laughing in a minute, sweetie.”  

he begins trailing kisses up trembling thighs. you feels yourself getting wet again, but you can’t do anything but let him have his way with you. 

he starts to kiss at your swollen lips, moaning against your pussy as he feels how hot and soaked you are on his mouth. when you feel him lick a thick, warm stripe from your leaking hole up to your needy clit and sucks, oh you know you’re done for. 

“mm, fuck. you taste heavenly, baby.” rory is now full on making out with your dripping cunt and you're on the verge of cumming. again. you don’t even get a chance to tell him cause he presses his tounge down hard on your clit as he’s circling and teasingly pushing his fingers into your sopping hole. that pushes you over the edge. 

“yesss, that’s it baby, cum all over my tounge.” you’re screaming loud moans that you hope no ones else can hear as you orgasm all over his mouth. you can see his damp salt and peppered stubble between your slightly blurred field of vision. rory then begins to get up to help clean you up but you begin to talk. 

“wait.” he freezes. 

“let me play with your hair for a minute, i haven’t got to yet and really really want to.” 

[watch-my-cosmic-death]

I genuinely can’t handle the responsibilities I have in my life when I’m stressed. I have to message my sibling to arrange a date to meet up but I have no money and no time to do so because I have to study for my assignment that is due next week- and I have to message my friend back because he called me and I didn’t answer yesterday because I couldn’t function because I was overwhelmed. I have to work out or my mental health will keep getting worse and I’ll forever be stuck in a painful loop of fear and anxiety. I should call the doctors to see if I might have ocd but I can’t bring myself to do it. I should finish my assignment, I should finish my work, I’m behind, I’m behind, I’m behind

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I try not to dwell on the serious negative impact having bronchitis 5 times in 5 years has had on my life but the odds are pretty high for me getting it a 6th time right now and I’m not thrilled to say the least

[kavehayati]

Man I made a really bad choice …

[gooobraghhh]

1,000 follower kink vote post: 1st place, Somno

Sleeping pups make the best toys. It’s so fun to tease a cute things body while they’re unconscious. You get to hear their honest, unfiltered noises, usually little breathy moans that react to your every move once you start gently rubbing and playing with them while you feel them get hard and messy on your fingers.

I just love the perverse intimacy of it. There’s no lying, no altering your reactions, just the honest results of my touch and you don’t even know you’re functioning as entertainment for me. You don’t know that I’m studying every little thing you do in response to my fingers and mouth. Learning what feels the best based on your reactions.

It’s so rewarding to feel the mess you’re making, to feel you needily throbbing as I play with you. If I can get you to cum even better. It’s so cute to hear you cum when you aren’t awake enough to control your voice. To make you twitch and clench and squirm infront of me while you’re none the wiser.

Maybe I’ll leave it at that. Let you wake up in the morning either oblivious to my actions or I’ll have done something to let you know I used you in your sleep. You might wake up without your underwear, or maybe you notice dirty words written on your skin in some very intimate areas, if I’m feeling cruel there could be a toy left in you that teased you all night.

But I think it might be more fun for you to wake up. To watch you try to process what’s happening. Seeing your little useless groggy brain try to catch up with the pleasure your body has been experiencing. And while you’re pathetically trying to understand why you feel so horny and sensitive I’ll make sure to start fully fucking you now that waking you up isn’t a concern. God it’s so attractive to see you beneath me, getting overwhelmed by the intensity of what you’re feeling while you’re barely even awake.

Hearing the little words you try to say that just get lost in between moans. I’ll make sure to use you until I’m satisfied, as is your purpose. With how primed and sensitive I made you I’m sure it wouldn’t take long for you to cum again, but I’ll keep going for as long as I want, without a care for how intense it is for you. And of course I just can’t stop myself from getting in your ear and telling you how cute you were in your sleep, how loud you got from my touch, what specific things made you react the most. I’ll watch your little face get all flustered and embarrassed before your eyes roll back and you just can’t keep your voice down.

Once I’m finally done with you I’ll make sure to hold my little plaything and let you know how good of a toy you were for me, how amazing your body felt. I’ll keep you nice and tight while softly praising you to sleep in my arms, at least until I feel the need to play with you again <3

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Considering how I dress, I probably have the clothes to dress like I’m in mourning (which I am) but I’m not sure how practical that would be and I’m not sure it would really come across the same way if I dress like this normally, just less formal.

I don’t have a veil though, and that’s what really makes a difference

[luna-azzurra]

Vibes for Characters #3

Who Wear a Mask So Well, They’ve Forgotten Their Real Face

(The ones who are always what other people need and don’t know how to be anything else)

⛧ Mirrors the energy of whoever they’re talking to. You like jokes? They’re funny. You want quiet? They’re calm. You want deep? They’ve got metaphors. ⛧ Looks in the mirror and always thinks something feels… off. Like they’re wearing skin that isn’t quite theirs. ⛧ Doesn’t have favorite things, only the ones that make other people smile. ⛧ Says “no worries!” while bleeding out emotionally behind their back. ⛧ Knows exactly what to say to make someone feel seen, but has no idea how to ask for that in return. ⛧ When alone, they go silent. Like the absence of an audience erases the performance—and there’s nothing left. ⛧ Changes tone, style, even posture depending on who they’re with. ⛧ Has friends in every circle, but no one they call at 2am. ⛧ Desperately wants someone to look past the glitter and say: “You don’t have to do that. You’re allowed to just be.” ⛧ Tells stories like they’re happening to someone else. ⛧ Always “fine.” Always helpful. Always on. Until they’re not. ⛧ Has a dream version of themselves they only let exist in daydreams. Somewhere where they’re messy, soft, real and still loved.

Who Would Die for Everyone but Don’t Think Anyone Would Mourn Them

(aka the quiet martyrs, the ones who love big but feel forgettable)

⛧ Always offering to help. Always the one who stays behind to clean up. ⛧ Doesn't ask for favors—not because they don’t need them, but because they don’t believe they’re allowed to take up that kind of space. ⛧ When someone thanks them, they brush it off with “It was nothing.” ⛧ Treats their own pain like a footnote. (Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.) ⛧ You could compliment them, and they’d smile, but their eyes would still say Why are you being so nice to me? ⛧ Constantly afraid of being annoying, even when they’ve barely spoken. ⛧ Hides their breakdowns by being “the responsible one.” Always smiling, always functional, quietly unraveling. ⛧ Finds comfort in tasks. Dishes. Errands. Anything that gives them purpose. ⛧ Would take a bullet for you and apologize for bleeding on your shirt. ⛧ Thinks no one really knows them, but blames themselves for that. ⛧ Their phone background is a quote that hurts. (“You are enough” makes them cry a little in the dark.) ⛧ If someone did tell them they matter, they’d cry, and then probably never believe it again.

Who Are So Emotionally Numb, They Don’t Realize They’re Already Breaking

(For when burnout becomes a personality trait and disassociation is just Tuesday)

⛧ Says “I don’t care” a lot. Usually means “I can’t afford to.” ⛧ Lives in a weird fog, can’t remember what they had for lunch or what day it is, but somehow still functioning. ⛧ Never first to speak in a group. Often doesn’t speak at all unless directly asked something. ⛧ Laughs at the right times. Smiles when expected. You wouldn’t know anything was wrong unless you really looked. ⛧ Hasn’t cried in a long time. Not because they’re fine, because they forgot how. ⛧ Avoids mirrors. They don’t recognize the person looking back. ⛧ Can’t get excited about anything anymore, but keeps pretending like they can. ⛧ Keeps busy to outrun the numbness. Lists, routines, always moving. ⛧ Their sleep is either 12 hours or none at all. No in-between. ⛧ Gets caught staring at nothing, often. Blames it on “spacing out.” They’re not. ⛧ Doesn’t think about the future. The idea of hope is exhausting. ⛧ Still shows up. Still tries. That might be the most heartbreaking thing of all.

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fight to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

[himasgod]

ACE X READER

Where he sleeps in your bed

Where he breaks a rule and hides from Riddle in Hearstlabyul, sleeping the night with you

This may be my favorite thing I've written about Ace in a long time so enjoy it

You’d just settled in—blanket pulled up, eyes heavy, the usual creaks of Ramshackle blending into your nightly routine—when there was a loud thump outside your window.

Another thump. Then a muffled curse.

You groaned into your pillow.

“If that’s another ghost dragging around, I swear I’m moving into Deuce’s closet.”

Then came the knock.

You didn’t even need to get up to know who it was.

The door creaked open before you even got there.

“Ace,” you deadpanned, arms crossed as you took in the sight: disheveled, slightly out of breath, and very much not supposed to be here.

He held his hands up innocently.

“Okay, before you say anything—”

“You broke a rule again, didn’t you?”

Ace grinned. “Technically, yes. But also technically… Riddle didn’t say I couldn’t charm the vending machine for extra snacks.”

You stared. “So you broke into Heartslabyul’s vent again.”

“I enhanced the student experience. Look, I just need to lay low tonight. Riddle's on one of his ‘I’ll string you up by your ankles’ moods, and I’m not risking it.”

You sighed, dragging him in by the sleeve before one of the ghosts decided to start interrogating him with a lantern.

“I’m not cleaning up your mess if he turns you into a lawn ornament.”

“I knew you loved me,” he said with a wink, plopping down onto your bed like he owned the place.

“Get off.”

“There’s literally nowhere else to sleep in this haunted shack.”

“I’ll take the floor.”

Ace caught your wrist before you could grab an extra blanket.

“No way. You get the bed every other night of your life. We can share.”

You hesitated. He was warm and annoyingly familiar, and… okay, maybe the idea of kicking him to the floor did feel a little heartless.

“…Fine. But if you hog the blanket, I’m pushing you off.”

“I accept your challenge.”

The silence was weird once the lights were off. Not uncomfortable, just… noticeable.

You were both facing away, careful not to brush shoulders. The bed wasn’t made for two. Your knees almost bumped. Your feet definitely did.

“This is weird,” you muttered into your pillow.

“Only if you make it weird,” Ace said, voice low, like he was almost asleep already. “I mean, it’s just me. You trust me, don’t you?”

“…Yeah. I do.”

Silence again. But this time, heavier.

Then, quietly, like he wasn’t sure he should say it—

“You smell nice, by the way.”

You blinked into the dark.

“What.”

“Nothing. Shut up and sleep.”

But his back inched closer. You didn’t move away.

You woke up to sunlight… and Ace's arm around your waist.

His breath was soft on your neck. Your legs were tangled. His entire body was wrapped around yours like this was normal, like he always belonged there.

You froze.

He didn’t wake up. Just murmured something about “don’t steal my cards” and pulled you closer.

You hated how good it felt.

You also hated that this was definitely going to happen again.

You woke up to the sound of Grim shrieking.

“WHAT THE TUNA HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

You didn’t even get the chance to move before the blanket was yanked back—Ace groaned beside you, arms still around your waist, face buried in your shoulder like he didn’t realize what year it was.

Your brain caught up exactly two seconds too late.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

This looked so bad.

“Grim, it’s not what it looks like,” you croaked, voice barely functional.

“Oh yeah?” Grim snapped. “So it’s totally normal now for you to cuddle the tomato boy in bed like you’re in some kind of cheap drama?!”

You tried to sit up, but Ace just… clung tighter. His hand slid across your stomach, and you felt him grin sleepily against your neck.

“I’m not a tomato,” he mumbled, still 80% asleep. “I’m a hot horny tomato.”

You smacked him with a pillow.

He blinked awake, finally lifting his head—and froze when he realized where exactly his hand was.

His fingers tucked under your shirt, caressing your abdomen tbh.

There was a pause. Just a second. And in that second, your hearts were both screaming.

Then—

“Oh.”

“Get the fuck out of-”

“I’M NEVER UNSEEING THIS.”

After forcibly evicting Grim (who swore he was going to "call the headmage and then the exorcists"), you and Ace just sat there on opposite sides of the bed, knees pulled up like awkward kids at summer camp.

“…Sooooo,” Ace started, rubbing the back of his neck. “That happened.”

You stared at the wall. “Yup.”

“Not that, like—not that it was bad or anything. You’re just… warm. And you didn’t kick me. Which was cool. I thought you’d elbow me in the face, honestly.”

“I thought you’d hog the blankets. Or snore.”

“I don’t snore—hey, rude.”

You finally looked at him. And he was blushing. Actually blushing. Ace Trappola, king of smug confidence and shameless teasing, looked like someone had hit him with a confusion spell.

“I didn’t hate it,” you said, too quietly.

Ace blinked. “What?”

You shrugged, suddenly interested in the hem of your blanket. “I didn’t hate waking up like that. It was kinda… nice.”

He went silent.

Then—nervously, a little too quick—he said,

“Yeah. Yeah, same. Not that I wanna make it weird, or whatever, but… I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

You stared.

He panicked.

“Not like that! I mean—only if you’re cool with it, and only because the bed is warmer with two people, obviously. Strictly practical. Like a roommate thing. Totally platonic.”

“Right. Platonic. Yeah. Of course.”

He nodded. You both avoided eye contact like professionals.

The silence stretched.

“…Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re still wearing my pajama pants.”

“...Oh. Whoops.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Special Guest

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

POV: First-person

Fandom: UConn’s Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1,500+

Summary: we have a special guest for the podcast

Tags: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @authentic-girl03 , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani

I adjust my mic and glance at Kayla, who’s lounging comfortably against my pillows, setting up her recording equipment.

“So, let me get this straight,” I start, tilting my head at her. “You, Kayla Williams, decided that my dorm—my bed, specifically—was the best place to record this episode?”

Kayla smirks. “You act like this isn’t the most comfortable setup ever. It’s cozy, it’s intimate, it’s giving vibes. Plus, do you really think I was about to record in one of those stiff chairs in the common room? Be so for real.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You just didn’t wanna book a studio.”

“Correct.” She grins, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “Now, get comfy, and let’s start—”

Before she can finish, my dorm door swings open, and in walks Paige.

Scratch that—drags herself in.

She looks exhausted, still in her practice gear, her low ponytail a little frizzy from sweat, and her duffle bag barely hanging onto her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just lets out a deep sigh and makes a beeline for my bed.

“Uh, hey?” I say, watching as she tosses her bag to the floor, taking her ponytail out and flops onto the mattress like she’s been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Without hesitation, she burrows into me, laying her head directly on my stomach, her arms loosely wrapping around my waist.

I blink down at her. “Paige?”

She hums in response but doesn’t move.

Kayla raises an eyebrow. “Yo, is she good?”

“She had morning practice,” I explain, running a hand through Paige’s locs. “Guess it wiped her out.”

Kayla snickers. “Nah, this is crazy. She didn’t even say hi.”

I poke Paige’s shoulder. “You good, baby?”

Paige nuzzles deeper into me, sighing. “Mhm.”

“Wanna move?”

“No.”

I glance at Kayla, who’s grinning like she’s witnessing something hilarious.

“Oh, she’s whipped,” Kayla says, adjusting her mic. “You sure you still wanna record? Your girl looks real comfortable.”

I glance down at Paige, who’s already breathing slower, her body completely relaxed against mine.

“She’ll be fine,” I say, settling back into the pillows. “If she’s tired enough to fall asleep while we talk for an hour, she probably needs the rest.”

Kayla shakes her head, still smirking. “Alright, your relationship is crazy soft, but let’s get into it.”

She presses record, and just like that, we start the episode.

—

Thirty minutes in, Paige hasn’t moved an inch.

She’s completely knocked out, her breath warm against my hoodie, her arms still lazily wrapped around me. Every now and then, she shifts, sighs, or tightens her grip, but for the most part, she’s dead to the world.

Kayla, of course, is having way too much fun with this.

“Okay, so what I’m gathering,” she says, pointing at Paige’s sleeping form, “is that you got this superstar, face-of-UConn-basketball, Paige Bueckers, so down bad that she literally needs to be on you to function properly?”

I roll my eyes. “She’s just tired.”

Kayla gives me a look. “Nah, see, I’ve known Paige for a while, and I ain’t never seen her like this with anyone else.”

I fight a smile, absentmindedly running my fingers through Paige’s hair. “She likes being close to me. Is that a crime?”

Kayla grins. “Not at all. It’s just hilarious how you try to act all nonchalant about it.” She leans toward the mic dramatically. “Y’all, let it be known that Paige Bueckers is a clingy girlfriend. Possibly the clingiest.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s not that clingy.”

Kayla gestures at Paige. “Bro. She fell asleep on you mid-podcast. You might as well get her a ‘Property of Y/N’ shirt at this point.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “She does have a hoodie that says ‘Y/N’s Favorite.’”

Kayla howls. “Oh, nah! That’s crazy. Ain’t no way.”

I nod, grinning. “Got it for her last Valentine’s Day.”

Kayla wipes a fake tear. “This is beautiful. True love.”

I shake my head, still smiling as we move on to the next topic.

—

By the time we wrap up the episode, Paige is still dead asleep.

Kayla stretches, cracking her knuckles. “Alright, that’s a wrap. Great episode, and we got bonus content of you being the human equivalent of a teddy bear.”

I snort. “Glad I could provide entertainment.”

Kayla stands, gathering her stuff. “I gotta bounce, but good luck getting your girl off you.” She nudges Paige’s leg. “Yo, Bueckers, you alive?”

Paige groans, barely lifting her head. “Barely.”

Kayla smirks. “Your girl’s free now. You gonna let her move?”

Paige ignores her, instead snuggling back into me, her voice muffled against my hoodie. “No.”

Kayla cackles. “Yeah, I’m outta here.”

She gives me a knowing look before heading for the door. “Text me when you finally escape.”

I roll my eyes. “Bye, Kayla.”

Once she’s gone, I glance down at Paige, brushing a few stray locs out of her face. “You good, sleepyhead?”

Paige hums. “Better now.”

I smile. “You slept through my whole podcast, you know.”

She grins sleepily, eyes still closed. “Best nap I’ve ever had.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re so spoiled.”

She finally cracks one eye open, looking up at me with that soft, lazy smile of hers. “By you? Absolutely.”

I can’t even argue with that. Instead, I kiss her forehead, letting her sink back into me.

She’s gonna be wide awake later, and I should make her get up soon.

But for now?

I let her stay exactly where she is.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter twelve

⭐︎ You're a bandit like me. Eyes full of stars

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, post apocalypse au, mentions of death, mentions of killing, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 15k

Author's note: Here it is friends! I've been so excited for this chapter (and I hope you will be too, this has some good stuff). I struggled so much writing this, I have no idea why, it's literally one of my favorite moments in this story so far! But here it is now, and I wouldn't have done it without @hellfire--cult , she wrote a good portion of this (aka all the fun stuff between Steve and Sunshine hehe) so please give her some love ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

“We can cut through Idaho, Colorado, or we can drive straight through Utah.” Eddie explains with his hand. His eyes are focused on the map before him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes concentrated. 

Steve is standing beside him with his arms crossed, nodding as he thinks of what road seems the best. 

“Wasn’t Colorado crawling with infected when the news was still airing?” Steve mumbles. 

“When was that, Steve?” Eddie shrugs at his friend. “A year or two back? The cold temperatures have either wiped out the infected or they have moved down south by now.” 

Steve nods his head, “yeah, you might be right. What do you think, Nance?” 

Nancy isn’t focusing on the map, she isn’t even listening to them. Her eyes are set on you. You are sitting on the steps of the RV, your head leaning against the door frame. You are staring into blank space, fiddling with the loose string on your flannel. 

Someone who doesn’t know you would think that you are just enjoying the sunlight kissing your face, but it’s not that; she wishes it was that. You are quiet, and you have been quiet for the past few days now since the attack. She understands it, but she is concerned about you, scared that you are losing yourself and that there is nothing she or the guys can do about it. 

Steve’s eyes follow, and his face only falls further. He has been trying to get through to you for days now but it’s like your mind stayed there. You don’t talk much, you barely eat, and your lips are in a permanent straight line. He knows you need time and that you aren’t gone completely because even with your mental absence and your silence, you still let him hold your hand, you still sleep in the same bed with him, you still let him hold you at nights – it became a regular thing, after that day especially. 

Steve needs you close, he needs to feel you in his arms, he needs to know you are there, or else he can’t breathe, he can’t sleep, he can’t function. You are on the same page and, without much debating, you settled on spending every night, every perimeter check, every run into towns together. He knows that he is now going against everything he promised to himself when he first met you, but he can’t help it, he can’t help the way he feels about you now, the way he needs you around. 

He misses your voice, even more so, he misses your laughter and your smile. 

“A few weeks, give or take, and we’re in Nevada. That is, if we don’t get into too much trouble on the road. I’m talking weather conditions, blocked roads, hoards of infected–”

“You just said they moved south.” Nancy frowns, not looking away from you just yet. “Now you are talking about… hoards?” She squints her eyes. 

“Probably, yeah. I think they moved south, but I can’t know for sure, Wheeler. There might be a hoard gathering somewhere – which we’ll deal with, no problem. There also might be more demo shit monsters out there which we had the luck of avoiding so far. We don’t know what kind of trouble we’ll run into the rest of the road. Maybe we’ll even have to lay low for a while,” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up. “The winters are brutal out here, we’re lucky if we don’t get snowed in.”

“We will get snowed in at some point. I was stuck in a cabin for two weeks last year, I almost starved and froze to death.” 

Your voice catches everyone by surprise. Eddie and Steve glance at one another before they look at you. You are still staring straight ahead. 

Your words make Steve’s heart ache in his chest, even more so when he thinks about how he treated you when he first met you. How awful he was to you, how much he wanted you to leave, push you out the gates where you would have been all alone again, fighting for survival on your own, fighting the kind of people you have killed for him. 

“It’s gonna take two months or more until we get there.”

“It doesn’t matter how long it will take, Sweetheart.” Eddie says softly. “What matters is that we’ll get there and we will. You’ll see your family again!” He tries to lift you up, to make you see the point in this trip again. 

You will see them again, yeah. 

But what will they think of you after what you have done? 

Eddie notices the way your shoulders tense at his words, the way you suck in a sharp breath, the way your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the ground now. You suddenly get up and move forward. 

“I’m gonna check for more supplies,” you murmur as you walk towards the gas station that Eddie and Nancy have already gathered supplies at. 

Steve follows you without a second thought. Eyes filled with concern and body tense just like yours, “Sunshine–”

“I need a second.” You mumble without looking back. “Just one second…” 

One second to yourself. 

Steve’s face is etched with pain. Sadness flashing across his features, twinkling in his eyes. He halts in his tracks, staring at you in deflation. He wants to follow you, knowing exactly what is troubling you. He so badly wants to take you into his arms and comfort you, but he can’t, not when you are like this. 

Both Eddie and Nancy take a look at him. Pity flashes in both their features, he doesn’t have to look at them to see it. He hates it, hates the way they can see right through him. 

“Steve–”

“It’s fine, Nancy.” Steve grumbles as he takes a few steps back again, he leans against the side of the RV and crosses his arms over his chest. 

She sighs and looks back down at the map before her. Giving you the space that you need, giving him the space as well. 

But Eddie stares at the door you have shut behind you, watching you through the dirty window as you mindlessly walk around the store. His jaw clenches, not in anger at you but in anger for how you feel about yourself. He sees the way you avoid mirrors, the way you stare at your hands for a little too long. He can practically feel the horror you feel towards yourself. 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

Steve pushes himself off the RV again, eyes widening as he watches Eddie stomp after you. 

“Eddie–”

But Eddie doesn’t listen, and he flips his hand up, telling him to stay there. He opens the door and walks inside, not bothering to look back. He closes the door softly, not wanting to startle you. 

He is careful not to step on any broken cans or boxes that fell from the shelves as he looks for you. He walks past the aisles, looking into every one for you. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering where you had disappeared to so quickly in the second he had looked away. 

He searches for a moment until the sound of shuffling lures him into what once used to be an office or a break room. He finds you there, standing in front of a table with your back turned to him. You are holding something in your hand, staring down at it. 

Eddie walks inside, clearing his throat so he doesn’t startle you. You don’t budge. You stand still. He takes a deep breath before he looks over your shoulder and his shoulders tense, a frown appears on his face. 

A mixture of sadness and anger creeps up inside of him. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as he steps even closer and takes the note from your hand. He glances down at it one more time. He skims over it a second time: ‘If you turn into a monster is it still you inside?’ Eddie crumbles it up and throws it on the ground. 

He doesn’t know whether to pull you into his arms or to scold you. 

He wants to do both. 

Eddie wraps his hand around your bicep and he turns you around, forcing you to face him. 

“Look at me.” 

You hesitate but look up at him after taking a deep breath. 

Eddie’s gaze softens when he sees the vulnerability in your eyes. His shoulders slump and he sighs. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as he moves his hand up to your shoulder. “Don’t even think about it, don’t let your mind go there. You are not a monster.” 

You don’t regret what you did, not in the slightest. You would do it again and again if it meant saving your friend, if it meant saving him. You would do anything for your friends. You would do anything to keep him safe. 

“I murdered them–” 

“Monsters. You killed monsters.” He gives you a pointed look, trying to get it through that thick head of yours. “Do you think that’s what we think of you now? That you are some kind of monster too?” 

Your silence answers his question. 

Eddie shakes his head wildly, gripping your shoulder tighter. 

“You did what you had to do, what we couldn’t do but don’t… don’t think for one second that I, that we wouldn’t do the same for you. I would have ripped those bastards apart one by one to save you, and I know that Steve would have done the same.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. You know he is telling the truth, the look in his eyes is so determined and truthful. 

“You saved him, you saved us. I don’t care how you did it, you could have fed them to the infected – hell, I would have helped you drag them to their dinner table. But stop being so hard on yourself, stop living in there,” he taps your forehead. “I know what that evil part of your brain is trying to tell you and I can promise you that it’s all bullshit, okay? You’re a fucking saviour, Sweets. You are fucking hero.”

The tension on your face disappears little by little. Your lips start curling up a bit. 

“You’re not a monster, we don’t think that about you, and your family won’t either. Hell, your brother will be proud to have such a powerhouse as a sister.” 

A smile tugs on the corner of your lip, and you can’t help but chuckle, “stop that now…” 

Eddie feels successful when your laughter fills the room again. He squeezes your shoulder, smiling at you. 

“It’s nothing but the truth. You’re strong, really fucking strong. This world hasn’t gotten to you in all that time you’ve been out there by yourself. Don’t let it get to you now, not over some pieces of shits who had it coming – god knows how many potential victims you have saved.”

You nod at his words. You know he is right. He is right about them, they deserved it, every single one of them. 

“I don’t regret what I did,” you shrug, “I just… I didn’t know that I could turn into this.” 

“There’s a different side to everyone, Sunshine.” Eddie speaks softly and carefully. “Sometimes we have to resort to it… to save and protect the ones we love.” 

His eyes flash with something else, a distant memory that never strays away from him, always reminding him of the night he protected everyone too, the scars on his skin a forever reminder. 

You nod at his words, knowing that he is right about everything. 

“You sacrificed a little part of yourself… that doesn’t mean that you are lost completely, Darling.” He whispers as his eyes flicker to the forming scar on your cheekbone. 

Warmth spreads through you, and you feel the kind of comfort you always got from your brother whenever things got tough. He is like him – in a lot of ways. 

“Like you did…” You whisper, knowing about the night he almost gave his life to save everyone. 

His throat bobs as he nods. His dark eyes flashing with horrors that night tortured him with. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You whisper, knowing how painful it must be to think back to that night. 

He gives you a smile, a soft and comforting one. 

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around. He tugs you into his comforting embrace. Giving you a warm, big hug. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, squeezing his waist. 

Eddie is a little surprised that you hugged back so quickly, but a satisfied smile appears on his face. He loves hugs. Unfortunately, Nancy hates them and Steve… is well Steve. He only allows you to get close nowadays. 

You stay in his embrace for a while, only now realizing how much you needed it, how much you needed the reassurance and the comforting words of someone who is now like a brother to you. 

“You smell really nice.” Eddie blurts out after a long few minutes of silence. 

You furrow your brows as an amused smile makes its way on your face. 

Eddie sniffs at your hair causing you to giggle, especially when you pull away and he follows. 

“What’s that scent? Is that raspberry?” Eddie questions, tilting his head to the side. “How do you smell so good?” 

You push him away with a giggle, rolling your eyes at his genuine curiosity. 

“I wash my hair? Duh.” 

“I wash mine too, smarty pants.” He rolls his eyes at you, poking your cheek. “Mine never smells like that.” 

“Gotta find yourself a new shampoo then.” You shrug and look down, blushing a little. You always made sure that you look decent, that you don’t smell, which isn’t always easy in a world like this considering you sometimes run out of water and have to resort to wet wipes until you find a lake to fill up your water tanks again and Eddie tends to use way too much of your body wash. 

But you always do your best to stay clean, to smell nice – especially, especially now that you share a bed with Steve and somehow always end up in his arms or even on top of him. 

You may or may not have a secret bottle of perfume hidden in one of your boxes. 

He hums, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you slowly. 

“It’s not the shampoo, is it?” He squints his eyes as a smirk tugs at his lips. “You got some sort of body spray or perfume hiding somewhere, don’t ya? No one can smell that nice from shampoo or body wash alone.”

You shrug, humming, “I do.”

But Eddie can see the way you avoid his eyes, the way a blush creeps up your face, and you grow flustered. He knows exactly why. 

He can’t help but poke your waist, chuckling when you flinch, “you little liar! You got perfume hidden somewhere, don’t you? Wanna smell nice for Stevie boy, huh?”

Your eyes widen and your lips part as you begin to stutter. 

“Oh, I knew it!” Eddie laughs loudly. “I mean, I get it, if I shared a bed with someone I have a big fat crush on, I’d do the same.” 

You roll your eyes at him and push his hand away, turning around, you walk back into the store. 

Crush is an understatement, you are way past that point. 

Eddie’s smile never fades as he follows you. “You didn’t deny it.” 

You didn’t, no. There is definitely no point in denying something so obvious. Eddie already knew it when you attacked him with that wet shirt. 

“Do you want me to deny it?” You scoff. 

“Nope. I know it already anyway,” he shrugs, following you with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Tell me, have you kissed yet?” 

You halt in your tracks, cheeks burning at this point. 

Eddie almost walks into you when you stop so suddenly. He raises his eyebrows as he stares at the back of your head. 

You turn around to face him, not bothering to hide your flustered face. 

“No…” You mumble, shaking your head. The thought of kissing Steve makes your cheeks burn hotter and your chest flutter. There was a moment, a fleeting moment, where you thought that he would kiss you, where you thought of making the move yourself and closing the gap between you, but he pulled away before you had the chance to. 

Your eyes flash with something that makes Eddie’s smile fall slowly. The teasing no longer evident in his eyes when he sees something more serious in your features. 

“You hesitated,” Eddie points out, tilting his head at you. “Did you try to…?”

You shake your head. Your mind wasn’t there in these past few days and before that you were too insecure to even think about it. But you want to, god, you want to kiss him so badly. 

“No. There was a moment…” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you to continue. 

You take a deep breath as you glance out the window, even through all the dust and the dirt on the glass, you can still see him. He is standing with his arms crossed, face etched in concern as he waits for you to come back out. 

Eddie’s impatient huff pulls your attention back to him. 

“When I saved the cub, Steve pulled me into his arms… to warm me up– Don’t look at me like that, he would have done the same for you or Nancy!” You frown, blushing furiously when the teasing grin is back on his face. Though the thought of Steve holding Nancy the way he held you makes you feel sour for some reason. 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Eddie snorts. “He’d throw a blanket over our shoulders and call it a day. Now, continue.” He waves with his hand. 

You huff at him, rolling your eyes as you look down at your hands. 

“There was a moment where he moved closer… and I-I thought that maybe… he would kiss me.” You shrug, trying to act like it doesn’t affect you that he didn’t do it. “But then he moved back again… so maybe I just… saw something that wasn’t even there.” 

Eddie’s eyes soften, and a sad smile tugs on his lips. You don’t even see the way he looks at you. 

“Sweetheart–”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head, hating that exposing vulnerable feeling rising up in you. 

“You wanted him to kiss you, didn’t you?” 

You bounce your knee and bite your lip as you feel the nerves clinging to your heart. Your ears burn too now. You don’t answer his question but you look at him through your lashes, allowing him to look into your eyes. 

Eddie’s eyes light up, his dimples show when his smile widens. 

“Aw, Sunshine.” He giggles as he leans closer and pinches your cheek. “You’re adorable.” 

“Stop!” You groan in embarrassment, pushing his hand off. 

“I mean I already knew there was something between y'all but… damn… just make the first move. What are you waiting for? For him to sweep you off your feet and kiss you stupid before putting his cowboy hat on you so you can–”

“Oh god,” you interrupt him, rolling your eyes, though with a smile on your face. 

“You make the first move, you’re an independent, strong woman, Sweetheart. Don’t wait on the guy, I think he lost all his charm, you gotta be the one to make the first step here.”

You shake your head, “nope, I don’t think he likes me like that.”

Eddie sighs at your words, “listen, my sweetheart used to bully me when we were still in high school, we hated each other, turned out we just needed to fuck to see the potential between us,” he shrugs. “Steve wasn’t a bully to you… but… he kinda was. Still, I saw him checking you out, even when we were still in Hawkins.” 

Your eyes widen, “w-what?”

“Oh, Honey.” Eddie chuckles, his eyes flickering with amusement. “You are so oblivious. You’re telling me you don’t notice when his eyes are glued to your ass?”

You swallow and you shake your head, feeling as though you will suffocate if you don’t get out of here. 

“I thought women notice that shit.” He chuckles. 

You only stare in response, not knowing what to say because no, you don’t notice. 

Eddie tilts his chin down and lowers his voice, “you’re telling me he never got hard during one of your cuddle sessions–”

“Eddie!” You slap his chest, blushing harder than ever before. Your reaction giving you away yet again. 

He laughs loudly, eyes widening. “Oh, so he did!” 

“Shut up!” You mumble as you turn around and continue your way towards the door. “He said it was… wasn’t like that…”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, still laughing behind you. 

“He just got hard for the fun of it?”

You roll your eyes and turn back around, “it was cold, it was before I got sick, when we hid in the car during the storm… We warmed each other up and he… you know.” You say quietly. 

Eddie didn’t know that. Steve told him about the part where you had to ditch your clothes and cuddle to warm up, but he left this very interesting part out. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, unable to fight the smirk off his lips. 

“It doesn’t work like that, you know? At least not to me, I’m not gonna get hard because of someone I’m not attracted to, Sweets. No matter how close they are.”

Your eyes grow hopeful, and he sees it. 

“Besides, you can’t tell me that wasn’t the only time…” Eddie says slowly. 

You and Steve have been sharing a bed since you got sick, and more than once, Eddie walked in on you cuddling in your sleep. 

You breathe in sharply and Eddie laughs again. Oh, he is gonna enjoy his next conversation with Steve. 

“And you haven’t mounted that horse yet, Cowgirl?” 

“I am done with this conversation!” You say with a high pitched voice as you turn on your heel and make your way out the door. You breathe in the fresh air, hoping for the coldness to cool off your burning cheeks, but the moment your eyes lock with his, you are done for. 

Eddie clears his throat as he steps out behind you, he stops laughing, though the amusing smile on his face gives away the kind of conversation you had in there. 

Steve pushes himself off the RV, his concerned eyes moving across your face. Unlike before, you don’t seem tense, and your expression is softer, though there is something else now troubling you. You are flustered, he can tell that much, especially by the way Eddie is smirking. 

Eddie picks up the pace when he notices that Nancy isn’t outside anymore. He catches up to you and reaches out for your arm, wrapping his hand around your bicep, he leans down and whispers, “also, you better talk to that poor man again; he follows you around like some lost puppy.” 

Guilt surges through you as you glance at Steve, whose eyes are softer than ever as he eyes you. You know you have been neglecting conversations with him, struggling to talk the way you did before the attack. The look in his eyes is why you avoided eye contact with him – it’s killing you now. 

Who would have thought that you would ever turn him into this? 

Steve furrows his eyebrows as he looks between you, noticing the flustered look on your face right away. 

Eddie brushes past him after letting go of you, he pats his shoulder before he disappears into the RV, giving you a moment to talk. 

Steve never takes his eyes off you, his body moving on its own accord, towards you. His name falls from your lips softly. His voice forces you to look up at him. 

“Are you okay…?” Steve whispers, his hand slowly reaching towards yours. 

You nod, looking into his hazel eyes, feeling warmth flooding through you, settling in your chest and in your stomach. The feeling of comfort holding you strongly every time you are near him. 

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” He doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice. He knows Eddie tried to get through to you, and he might have done, but he wanted to be the one. 

“I know,” you whisper, sighing as you look down at his hand. You can’t help but reach out and slowly wrap your pinky around his. 

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest, he looks down and envelopes your hand fully, giving it a squeeze. 

“I just… I needed some time.”

Steve nods, understanding it more than anyone. 

“But Eddie…”

“Eddie is just like my annoying brother. Impatient and forcing me to talk.” 

Steve doesn’t know why he feels the weight of relief at the words ‘Eddie’ and ‘brother’ in the same sentence. He was fearing that you might have a more special bond to Eddie than you do to him. 

He cracks a smile, his shoulders slumping as the tension slips off. You notice it, how his eyes soften and a breath of relief falls from his lips. It gives you a shimmer of hope. 

“I wanted you to talk to me but I didn’t want to pressure you,” he murmurs softly as he takes a step closer to you and looks down at you with an expression that hasn’t faltered, not even after that night. You were so scared to look into his eyes, to see fear or disgust after how you handled things but you find none of those things – if anything, the look in his eyes is even softer now, making you feel stupid for even worrying, for thinking that he could see you how you saw yourself.

“I would have talked to you,” you whisper. Your own eyes soften, your voice filled with guilt. You didn’t mean to push him away, you didn’t mean to be so distant. 

“Yeah?” Steve tilts his chin down, looking deeply into your eyes. 

You nod. 

“Good. I thought you might have ditched me for Eddie,” he jokes, caressing the top of your hand with his thumb. “Thought you’d kick me out of our bed to snuggle him instead.”

Our bed. 

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks burning hotly at the choice of his words that you like a little too much. 

“Never.” You giggle, your eyes glinting with amusement. 

Steve’s stomach flutters, his heart yearning to hear more of that sound. His eyes light up and his hand squeezes yours tighter. 

“I missed that.” He blurts out, redness taking over his cheeks. 

“Missed what?” 

You tilt your head to the side in a way that makes him feel weak, you just look so damn cute, with that line between your eyebrows and the slight pout on your lips. 

“Your smile, your laughter.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart nearly exploding. 

He missed your smile? Your laughter? 

The look on his face is serious, his eyes vulnerable. You never thought that you could have such an effect on the guy who didn’t even want you around at first. 

Now he is holding you in his sleep, needing to feel you in his arms at nights, yearning to see you smile, to hear your laugh, to have you with him. It drives you crazy. It makes you yearn for him even more. 

Lost puppy is what Eddie had called him, the look in his eyes resembles just that. 

You can’t even fight the sudden urge to hug him, you take a step towards him and let go of his hand to wrap your arms around him instead, strongly. It certainly is not your first hug but it still catches him off guard, especially after days and days of your silence and distance.

You lean your head against his chest and close your eyes, breathing in his scent and melting into his embrace when he slowly wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you back after a second of hesitation caused by surprise. 

Steve’s face crumbles completely, his eyes softening even more if that is even possible. His heart beats so strongly, threatening to expose the way he feels about this. He takes a deep breath, an inhale of your sweet scent that sets all his insides on fire every goddamn time. His breathing turns shaky as he leans down and tightens his hold on you. 

You don’t know how long you stay that way for, but a few minutes pass – and if it was up to you, both many more could pass, but you need to move, you need to get back on the road. 

You pull away reluctantly. He keeps his hands on you, not pulling away completely yet. Your eyes meet and they speak to each other, the way your hearts do too. If only you could voice out your feelings. 

You are a hopeful person; you have always been one. It isn’t easy to be one in a situation like this though – even when a part of you, the smallest one, hangs onto the weak string kept together by the little moments of his eyes flickering down to your lips or his hands holding onto you tightly, searching for your touch. 

Could he feel the same? Could he feel a sliver of what you are feeling? 

If so, will he ever make a move or was Eddie right about what he said about him? 

Will you have to be the one to try? 

You aren’t sure if you are ready to try but you know that you will regret it someday if you don’t take the leap. 

You notice the way he stares at your lips, you feel the way his fingers tighten around your arms. 

Your eyes move across his face, tracing every mole, every scar, his pink cheeks, his lips that look surprisingly soft given the cold weather. Too many nights you have gone to sleep wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. 

This isn’t the right moment, it definitely isn’t. 

But you have to test the waters, you just have to. 

“Come on, we should hit the road,” you whisper as you take another step closer, moving onto your tippy toes, you press your hands against his chest, avoiding his eyes as you lean closer and press your lips against his cheek, pecking it softly. 

Steve’s eyes widen and his breath hitches in his throat. The spot your lips touched tingling as his heart threatened to jump out of his throat. 

He stands there for a while, even after you have pulled away to make your way back into the RV. He stands there processing what just happened. 

It was an innocent kiss. It was the smallest peck, a sweet kiss on his cheek – nothing he hadn’t felt before, and yet it made his heart beat in a way nothing else ever did before. 

He can’t help but crave more, he can’t help but want more than just this. 

When he returns to the RV, his cheeks are still burning, his heart's still pounding. He tries to act like nothing happened, like this little moment didn’t affect his emotions. He closes the door behind him, locking it. 

He clears his throat as he looks around, his eyes meeting Eddie’s, who is smirking at him, eyes glinting. He saw the whole thing, of course he did, he watched it. 

Though the metalhead says nothing and only turns back around, getting comfortable in the passenger seat as Nancy throws the map into his lap. She glances over her shoulder after fastening her seatbelt, looking at you before her eyes meet his. 

“Ready?” 

Steve nods, scratching his neck awkwardly as he moves towards you and takes a seat beside you. 

“Hit the road, Nance.” Eddie hums, but not without looking back at you one more time, giving you a wink that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve. 

He glances at you, though you turn away from him, blushing. 

Steve raises his eyebrows, still looking at you – so he isn’t the only one getting teased by the metalhead. 

That sparkle of hope lights up inside of him. And he doesn’t know how to feel about it because it grows fastly and strongly. 

When after a few minutes of the drive, you lay your head on his shoulder, his heart nearly combusts as his skin starts burning up. The little sparkle will quickly turn into a flame and then… what?

How will this end for him? 

He doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to worry. 

But it’s in his nature to worry, to drive himself crazy with the what if’s. 

But for now, he reaches for your hand and he intertwines his fingers with yours. 

The squeeze of your hand makes his heart flutter wildly and it shows him nothing but the fact that he is screwed, so very screwed. 

-

You have always heard about the harsh winters in Wyoming, the sudden snowstorms, the heavy wind, and extremely cold temperatures. Though you didn’t think that it would hit you so suddenly, the way it did, given the warmth of the sun you were grazed with earlier today. 

You’ve only spent three hours on the road before Nancy had to stop driving due to the worsening weather conditions. The snow started falling harder, making it difficult to see. Thunder started rumbling, the red lightning in the distance made you all a little anxious. 

She parked the RV on the side of the road, close to a sign leading to a town. Her and Eddie left to find shelter for the night but they had been gone for an hour now and the wind had picked up since.

You look out the window, bouncing your knee anxiously as the snow covers more and more of the road and the trees. 

The howling of the wind makes you feel slightly uneasy. You feel it, it’s causing the RV to sway, making the tires creak beneath you. 

Steve is pacing back and forth, unable to find rest, knowing his friends are out there and the storm is getting worse but you couldn’t all go together, it’s too risky to leave the RV standing on the side of the road. 

“They’ve been gone for an hour.” He stresses. 

“They’ll be fine.” You assure him as you pull away from the window and sit down on the bench. “It’s not that bad out yet. I’ve been stuck in worse storms.” You shrug, trying to act like you aren’t afraid, like he is. 

“Have you?” He asks softly, his eyes finding yours as he stops pacing. 

“Yeah. It was one of those storms.” You murmur as you gesture to the red lightning in the distance. 

Steve frowns as he glances at the sky. He knows that this means nothing good. The storm, the red lightning, means the town ahead of you is crawling with monsters. 

The thought that you have been stuck in one of those makes his heart clench in his chest. The thought that you could all get stuck in that again, makes him feel the paralyzing fear that he hates so much. 

“We should have kept driving.” He mumbles as he thinks of everything that could happen. 

“No, we could’ve gotten stuck right in there. We are still a good distance away from it, we just need a more stable… shelter for the night, and after that we can figure out how to avoid this area.” 

You are right, he knows it, yet he can’t stop his fear from spreading inside of him. 

The door bursts open, making both you and Steve flinch from the sudden noise. Nancy rushes in first. Her scarf is covering half of her face, her clothes are covered in white snow. She removes the scarf, revealing her red nose and her trembling lips. 

Eddie curses under his breath as he slams the door behind him and removes his scarf as well. “Jesus, it’s cold as shit!” He breathes as he rubs his hands together. His nose is glowing red too. 

“We found something.” Is all that Nancy says before she makes her way back into the driver's seat, not wasting any time to start the engine. 

Steve looks between her and Eddie with furrowed eyebrows. “Found what exactly?” 

Eddie keeps rubbing his hands together as he brushes past Steve and plops down into the passenger seat. “Big place with a garage and everything, we can leave the RV in there, no problem–”

Steve sits down beside you before Nancy starts driving. 

“Any infected?... Monsters?” 

Eddie shakes his head at him, “just one infected outside the gate, nothing else. We checked the area and the mansion–”

“Mansion!?” You ask, your eyes widen. 

Eddie chuckles at your reaction, he holds onto the back of Nancy’s seat as she drives down the road. He looks between you and Steve. “Yeah, the place hasn’t been touched in years, we checked inside as well. It’s clean, nothing except for dust in there.” 

“Yeah.” Nancy nods. “Looks like it was some sort of vacation house.” 

“Mhmm.” Eddie hums, his eyes flashing with something that you can’t read. “You’re gonna love it, Sweetheart.” 

“Why?” You tilt your head at him. 

“You’ll see,” he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You and Steve look at each other, both frowning in confusion. He takes a deep breath and turns back to Eddie when the RV suddenly lurches forward. You begin to slip off your seat, gasping in surprise as you reach your hand out to grab the handle behind you, when you feel Steve’s heavy arm around your body. 

With his arm around your waist and your back pressed against his chest, he holds you tightly, saving you from the fall as he holds onto the table beside the bench you are both sharing. 

“Wheeler!” Eddie breathes, holding his hand to his chest as he stares at the girl gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

“Sorry! Must’ve been the infected!” She shrieks. 

You grab Steve’s wrist, holding on tightly even though the RV is moving normally again, driving smoothly. 

“Jesus!” Steve grumbles behind you as he turns around to face the two in the front. “You drove over an infected?” 

“I didn’t see it until it was too late!” Nancy snaps. 

“Doesn’t matter anyways, it was dead, it was also dead when I killed it.” Eddie shrugs as he settles back into his seat. “Now we know for sure! Nance sealed the deal!”

Nancy shakes her head at Eddie, huffing at him. 

The sound of your giggle fills the silence in the RV that followed after Eddie’s attempted joke. Steve freezes behind you, his hold only tightening around your body as his heart skips a beat. 

A smile tugs at Nancy’s lip as she glances at you again, watching the way you lean your head against Steve’s shoulder who is looking down at you like you are the sweetest thing to walk this tainted earth. 

“Oh man,” Eddie whispers quietly enough for only Nancy to hear. She narrows her eyes at him before she returns her attention back to the road. 

“Ten bucks she’ll make the first move,” Eddie murmurs as he leans closer to her. 

“Money has no worth anymore, Munson.” Nancy snorts. 

She straightens her back as she leans closer to the steering wheel, a soft smile appears on her face. “I’ll get you two packs of cigarettes if you’re right but I have faith that he’ll make the first move.” 

He is intrigued, he didn’t think that she would agree to this. A smirk tugs at his lip, he moves closer to her. 

“And what do you want if you win?”

Nancy hums, “a shotgun.” 

“Why did I even ask?” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he leans back again. 

“I don’t know, now shut up, I need to focus.” She mumbles. Her eyes squint as she drives through the snowstorm, getting heavier by the minute now, the sky darkening. She could almost sigh of relief when she saw her flashlight in the distance, guiding her towards the garage. It was her idea to leave it there, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see the roads with the falling snow.

You could still feel Steve’s arms around your waist as the RV kept swaying, and then, you felt a slight drop making you squeal and Steve’s grip only tightened as he cursed under his breath. Your eyes turned to the windows and it was pitch black. You frowned, slowly getting on your feet with Steve as Eddie got up from the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s lock ourselves up, and we’ll go inside.” You blinked a few times, looking down at your waist. Steve followed your eyes, and he ripped his hand off you, feeling himself burn in embarrassment from holding you even after you didn’t need holding anymore. He feels as if he had been caught red handed. 

“DON’T FORGET MY FLASHLIGHT!” Nancy yells as she sees Eddie walking out of the RV with a wave of his hand. She sighs, shutting down the RV and sighing out of exhaustion. “I can’t wait to just relax…”

She gets up from her seat and turns around to face you both. Instantly, her eyebrows furrow when she senses the sudden awkwardness as Steve is blushing furiously while trying to busy himself with taking out a few cans of food to take into the house. You are sitting down still, looking up at him with a flustered look on your face. 

She can’t help but chuckle. However, when you both turn to her, she covers it up with a cough. She takes a step towards the door and opens it. 

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, garage is locked.” Eddie’s voice echoes in the garage. “Let’s go inside! Sweets come on, you’re gonna wanna see this!” 

You jump up from your seat and make your way out the RV. It’s too dark in the garage to see anything, only the flashlight Eddie is holding lights up the space around you. 

“Come on,” he tilts his head into direction of the door which you assume leads into the house. 

Eddie is grinning at you as he opens the door. He uses his flashlight to guide you inside. You make your way inside, curiously looking around, but you can’t see much yet. 

“They have a generator in the basement, but we couldn’t find any gas.”  

“That’s fine, we can light up some candles and the fireplace if there is one.” You murmur as you walk further into the house with every step that you take. 

“Romantic.” Eddie chuckles as he turns around, pointing the flashlight at Steve, wiggling his eyebrows at him. 

The former jock only rolls his eyes in response. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your shriek startles everyone, but Eddie quickly recovers when he sees what you’re so excited about. 

“Give me that!” You rip the flashlight from his hand and point it at the wall, gasping.

You start jumping up and down, bouncing on your feet as you squeal in excitement.  

Steve steps closer to you, noticing how your eyes light up like the ones of a kid on christmas morning. His lips curl into a smile, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

The wall in the long hallway is decorated with cowboy hats and western style pictures, giving away the kind of people who lived here before. 

Nancy and Eddie laugh at your reaction as you stare at the collection of cowboy hats, already looking for your favorite one. 

“This is like Wayne’s collection except we were poor and these people were rich rich.” Eddie murmurs as he looks into the big living room. 

“Hey,” Nancy steps closer to you. “You wanna take a look in the closet upstairs? I think you’re gonna like it.” 

Your wide eyes meet hers, and even in the faint light, she can see the excitement swirling in your eyes. 

Steve doesn’t tear his eyes away from you, loving the genuine surprise in your features, the happiness that slowly makes its way into your eyes. 

“Looks like a couple lived here and they were gone before shit hit the fan,” Eddie mumbles behind you as he gestures to the plastic covers over the furniture but you aren’t even listening to him. Your eyes only light up even more as you stare at Nancy. 

Steve’s own eyes widen in surprise when he suddenly feels your hand holding his, and you begin to drag him away from the hallway and towards the big staircase in the middle, “come on, Stevie!” 

Nancy’s laughter echoes in the hallway, the look on Steve’s face is more than just amusing. 

“Stevie.” Eddie murmurs under his breath to her, chuckling softly. 

“Shush.” Nancy slaps his chest as she watches you both move up the stairs. “Come on.” 

“I knew she would love this.” Eddie smiles as he and Nancy follow you up onto the second floor, which they have checked out before already. “Do you think she’s gonna force Steve into a cowboy outfit?” 

“Is that even a question?” She chuckles. 

When Nancy mentioned a closet, you didn’t imagine it to be a walk-in closet, let alone one filled with clothes your heart desires the most. You look around with wide eyes, spotting the variety of cowboy boots on the shoe shelf, the leather jackets, the jeans and vests.

“Holy shit!” You whisper as you slowly let go of Steve’s hand. 

Steve squints his eyes as you walk away from him, leaving him in the dark as you use the flashlight to take a closer look at the clothes. 

“That is like a dream come true,” you whisper, putting the flashlight down to grab a pair of boots. “I wonder if these will fit me.” 

He leans against the wall as he watches you move around, his eyes soften, and a smile appears on his face. His heart melts, the tension slowly slips off his shoulders. It’s nice to see you like this again.

“Why don’t we dress up?” Eddie speaks from the doorway, smirking cockily at Steve, expecting him to shake his head though Steve only shrugs. 

“Are you kidding? Why do you even ask?” You exclaim as you start looking through the jeans, tapping off the layers of dust that have unfortunately covered the clothes. 

Eddie chuckles at your expression, at the bewildered look on your face. He steps closer to Steve and pats his shoulder, “why don’t we find you an outfit to impress the girl, cowboy?” He whispers to him. 

Steve glares at him, though only because his cheeks heat up at the thought of your reaction to him wearing something that you love. 

“Let’s do justice to your new nickname.” Eddie chuckles as he pushes him towards the side of the closet that has all the male clothing.

“Where is Nancy?” You frown, already picking out an outfit for her. 

“Looking for batteries for a table lamp.” Eddie explains. “Go on, get dressed, Sweets.” 

You shrug and turn your attention back to the clothes, picking out an outfit. You grab the pair of boots you liked the most before you start making your way out of the room. 

Steve’s eyes follow you until he can no longer see you, with a soft gaze and rosy cheeks. 

“Be right back, fellas!” Your giggle echoes in the hallway.

Eddie’s hand is still on Steve’s shoulder. His smirk bigger than it was before, eyes flashing with mischief. 

“Oh boy.” Eddie murmurs, enjoying Steve’s reaction already. “She’s adorable.” 

Steve's smile slowly falls, his expression hardens as he turns to face his friend. 

“Hey now, I didn’t mean it like that.” Eddie chuckles, his smirk never fading. “She’s all yours, man. Matter of fact, you can make her all yours tonight. We’re safe here, nothing’s out there and if there is, the storm will take care of it, nothing survives that shit out there,” Eddie points out the window, the snowstorm now raging stronger than before. 

Steve’s shoulders tense up again and he frowns, shaking his head. 

“Eddie–”

“Don’t. I know what I see, and I can see right through you. Whatever is going on in that big head of yours,” he pauses, flicking his forehead, making Steve frown harder. “Whatever is holding you back, delete that shit out of your brain, man. Don’t let her slip through your fingers. You waiting on that perfect moment? You got it now, perfect chance.” Eddie whispers, spreading his arms out as he gestures to the big space they’re standing in. “There’s even a king sized bed, you ain’t getting that opportunity again.”

“Dude.” Steve shakes his head, blushing at the last comment. 

“Don’t dude me,” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. He turns away from him and starts looking through the clothes. “Just watch the way she will drool when she sees you in… these… tight pants.” He murmurs as he hands him a pair of jeans, pressing them against his chest. 

Steve looks down, lifting his hand up slowly, and he grabs them, a sigh falling from his lips. 

“This is ridiculous–”

“Guys!” 

Eddie looks over Steve’s shoulder, taking a look at you. It’s dark in the room, the flashlight only gives little light but just enough to see you. His eyes widen, and he puts his hand back on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Tell me I look like a real cowgirl!” You giggle as you twirl around. 

Steve stares at you, not even blinking, not moving, not breathing. He is just staring. His lips are parted as he eyes you up and down. 

The jeans you are wearing are tight,hugging your curves, and your ass perfectly. The brown belt low on your hips. You could have chosen one of the many flannels in the closet, but you didn’t, instead you opted for a jean vest with a very low neckline. You buttoned it up, but it is still very open, very exposing – exposing to the point where he can see a little of your bra, the lace standing out underneath. You opened your hair, removed the hair ties around your braids. 

His eyes keep flickering between your ass and your chest, unable to look away. His stomach making somersaults at the look of you, his skin heating up beneath his clothes. 

“Well damn,” Eddie whistles at you, chuckling when you stand in front of the mirror and check yourself out with a squeal. “You look hot, Cowgirl.” He smirks, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve swallows, unable to tear his eyes away from you. 

“What do you think!” You turn around, facing Steve. 

His eyes widen at your attention, his cheeks reddening underneath your gaze. He looks away from your chest and into your eyes, though finding it hard to after checking you out like a perv. 

“Y-You…” His voice breaks, which makes Eddie cackle behind him. Steve clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath. “You look amazing, Sunshine.” 

A giggle falls from your mouth and you bite your lip as you look down at the jeans in his hand, “come on, it’s your turn!” You smile excitedly, making your way towards him. “Let me pick out the rest of your outfit!” 

Steve and Eddie step aside, letting you do your thing. They both watch as you pick a flannel and a vest for him to wear. 

“You need any assistance, Eddie?” 

The metalhead chuckles, shaking his head as he keeps on watching Steve. 

“Nah, I got it. Just help this Cowboy here out.” 

Steve feels a little relieved when he finally gets to leave the room after you hand him the rest of his outfit. He takes a deep breath once out in the hallway, earning an amused smile from Nancy when she walks past him with the table lamp now in her hand. 

“You okay there?” She asks, glancing between his face and the clothes and boots in his arms. 

“Peachy.” He grumbles as he steps into the closest room he can find privacy in. 

Nancy can’t help but chuckle, already sensing what she will walk into. She steps inside the walk-in closet, lighting up the room with the lamp she found. Her eyes widen when she notices your new outfit. 

“Oh wow! You– Your ass looks amazing in those pants!” Nancy gushes over you, looking you up and down. 

A laugh falls from Eddie’s lips when he sees how flustered you get. 

“Nancy isn’t the only one who thinks that.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You should keep them.” 

“Eddie!” You huff, slapping his shoulder. But you can’t fight the blush off your cheeks, thinking about how he might have checked you out. 

“Just telling the truth.” He cackles, stepping away from you and towards the hallway. “I’ll be right back, I got the best one.” 

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head at him with a smile. She takes a seat on one of the armchairs and glances at you. 

“Aren’t you cold?” She asks, eying your exposed arms. 

“I am, but I wanna enjoy this moment in this pretty vest.” You say, turning back towards the mirror. “Are you not gonna get changed?” 

Nancy shakes her head, “nope and don’t even try to convince me, this is not my style. It looks amazing on you though.” 

You pout at her, “not even a pair of boots?” 

She shakes her head, “I’m satisfied with my own. I’ll take a look at the rest of the clothes though, I’m sure there’s something other than western stuff, right?” 

“Let’s take a look.” You shrug. You busy yourself with the big closet, standing next to each other as you look through the drawers. 

Nancy opens another one, her eyes widening. 

“Wow.” Nancy whispers, blushing as she pulls out a thong. “You want those?”

You narrow your eyes, glancing at the lace in her hand. 

“Wear them during one of your cuddle sessions with Steve,” she giggles, wiggling her eyebrows at you the way Eddie always does. 

“Nancy! You are sounding just like Eddie.” You whisper and grab it from her hand, making her chuckle. You shake your head at her, cheeks burning. 

The floorboards creak in the doorway, causing you both to look over your shoulders. Your eyes widen as Nancy gasps. 

Eddie stands there, hair hanging loosely down his shoulders, cowboy hat on his head. He is wearing a black leather vest with nothing underneath, his tattoos and his scars on full display. You look down and you can’t help but laugh loudly. The leather pants are a little too tight on his crotch, leaving no room for imagination. 

“Ew, Munson! I can see your dick!” Nancy screeches and covers her eyes. 

Eddie walks over to the mirror, ignoring her reaction. A wide smile appears on his face as he checks himself out the way you did before. 

“Oh, I am definitely taking these! My sweetheart will love this!” 

You giggle at both his and Nancy’s reaction. 

“Don’t ever wear this in front of me again!” Nancy stresses, turning back towards the closet with red cheeks. 

“I’m wearing them now, Wheeler.” Eddie mumbles, not paying attention to her. “Just don’t look at my dick, perv.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You can’t help but shake your head in amusement at their interaction. 

“I think I get it now, Sunshine. I’m kind of digging this.” Steve mumbles, appearing in the doorway. 

You turn around to face him, opening your mouth to speak, though before you can even utter a single word, your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight of him in this getup. Your lips part and a weird sensation rushes through your body as you take him in. 

He left the shirt under his vest unbuttoned at the top, showing off his chest hair. You eye the scar around his neck, taking a quick glance at his face to see him staring back at you already. You bite your lip without noticing as you take in the way the jeans hug him, the way the vest looks on him, the boots. 

He doesn’t even look dressed up, it just looks… good on him. 

Your heart flutters as he brings his hand up and runs it through his hair. 

You take a deep breath, sighing softly as you tilt your head. This is it, this is your cowboy. 

Nancy presses her lips together, holding back her laugh when she notices the way you stare at him. 

And Eddie, he only shakes his head at how obvious you are. 

“So…” Steve murmurs, smiling as he finally looks up. “What do you think, Sunshine?” 

You blink. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you. He places his hands on his hips, eying your expression. Satisfaction grows strongly inside of him when he sees how flustered and speechless you are. 

Eddie looks between the two of you, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Do you like what you see?” Steve adds, tilting his head down towards you. 

Finally, you blink yourself out of your stupor. Your whole body is burning up now, your lower stomach tingling, your knees weaken. 

“I-I… you look… you look—“

Nancy cringes a little at your stuttering, knowing that you are dying inside. 

“Yeah, Stevie looks hot doesn’t he?” Eddie chuckles, taking pity on you. “But not even he can beat this.” He gestures to himself, which luckily forces Steve’s attention away from you and towards him. 

Steve eyes him, his smirk falling as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Dude…” He grumbles. “Are you trying out for your next job or…?” 

Nancy bursts out laughing, nodding. “I did see a dancing pole somewhere in here, might as well practice.” She jokes. 

Eddie’s smirk only widens at their teasing, “I would make a good stripper.” 

While the three of them continue to joke about Eddie’s potential stripper career, you are still staring at the pretty brunette, feeling taken aback by the effect he has on you. You have been attracted to people before, your ex-boyfriend for one, but it was never like this. He never stole your breath, he never made you feel weak in the knees, he never made your heart beat so strongly, not even when he broke it. 

You are screwed and it scares you a little. 

Your heart flutters strongly when he offers his arm out to you, acting charming. 

“Care to join me for dinner ‘round the fire, ma’am?” Steve attempts to imitate a southern accent. 

Your eyes widen and a surprised giggle falls from your lips. 

His eyes light up, his rosy cheeks glowing beneath the golden light of the table lamp. 

You hook your arm around his, biting your lip as you step closer to him, “why yes, sir. Do you have a horse to take me there?” You play along, using the same accent.

Steve chuckles as he leads you out of the room, grabbing the flashlight on the way out. 

Nancy watches you both leave the room with a smile on her face. 

“He sure does have one.” Eddie murmurs under his breath, chuckling. 

Nancy’s smile falls and she rolls her eyes at him, slapping his chest. 

“Why do you always have to be so gross?”

-

The fireplace in the living room is burning brightly, lighting up the room in a golden glow, the wood is crackling, music is playing softly from the radio Eddie had carried inside before dinner earlier.

You hear the howling of the wind outside and look out the window every once in a while to make sure that nothing followed you out here but both Nancy and Eddie keep repeating that you are safe for the night, that nothing will come even close to this mansion without getting stopped by the storm raging outside. 

They are right, you know they are but the red lightning in the distance makes you feel a little unsettled knowing that you might have to go through there tomorrow. 

“I have a proposition to make.” 

You push away from the window and draw the curtains close again, turning around, you face Eddie. 

He had changed into a different outfit earlier, a comfier one but you saw him stuffing the leather pants and vest into his backpack. 

Steve who had been looking at you, sitting close to the fire, tears his gaze away from you and glances at Eddie who is keeping one arm behind his back. 

“What is it?” Nancy murmurs without looking away from a book she found. 

Eddie grins as he reveals the whiskey bottle that he had been hiding behind his back. 

“Before anyone protests, I would like to remind you that this might be the only opportunity we have to relax and have some much needed fun.” He says, holding back a smirk as he looks between you and Steve. “We are safe here, you guys know we are, and we don’t know when we’ll ever get such an opportunity again.” 

Steve’s eyes find yours again. 

“You two deserve it especially.” He points between you. “You guys need to let loose.”

Nancy clears her throat and sits up on the sofa. 

“I think we all deserve to let loose. If these two are getting drunk, then so are you and I, Munson.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, he turns to face her, “Wheeler, you never fail to impress me.” 

“Like you said, we’re safe here,” she shrugs. “And if anything happens, I’m an even better shooter when I’m drunk.” 

Eddie chuckles at her confidence. “Alright then,” he murmurs, turning back to you, he raises his eyebrows. 

You look between him and the whiskey bottle. The desire to forget about everything for a moment, to let loose, to have fun, is so strong. 

“You’re feeling better now, Sweets. You can drink,” he grins, tilting his head to the side. “Cowboy doc over there won’t say no, not tonight, am I right?” 

Steve licks his lips, taking a deep breath as he takes in the desire in your eyes. 

“No.” He shakes his head. 

“Okay…” You murmur, nodding. “But only if Steve drinks too.” 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles as he makes his way back to the bar in the corner of the room. “He’s already made his decision.” 

You make your way towards Steve, giving him a small smile as you sit down next to him. Nancy grabs a blanket and a pillow to sit on, throwing it down across from you, she plops down on it, giving you a curious smile, “when’s the last time you got drunk?” 

Eddie sits down beside her and places the cups on the ground. Opening the whiskey bottle, he fills them all up. 

“Uh… well, I haven’t had a single sip since all this shit had started,” you shrug, squinting your eyes. “Can’t even remember when that was.” 

Steve eyes your side profile, watching the way your dimple appears in your cheek when you smile. Your skin looks so soft beneath the golden light. There’s a scar forming from where you have been hit, he traces it every night, like he wants to cover the painful memory with another one – the way you do to him with his own scars. 

“Happy drunk or sad drunk?” 

You grab the cup and tilt your chin down as you raise it up to your lips, smelling the alcohol. 

“Happy drunk.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie nods. “This is gonna be fun then.” 

Steve pulls his knee up to his chest, grabbing the cup Eddie pushed towards him, he presses his hand against the floor, close to where yours is resting. 

“Do you get drunk quickly?” Steve asks as his fingers brush against yours. 

“Hmm, given the fact that I haven’t had any alcohol in over a year… probably yeah.” You nod. “But I am no lightweight usually!” 

Steve chuckles softly, finding you endearing. 

“Whatever you say, Honey.” 

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away from him, which makes his smile widen even more. The urge to tuck your hair behind your ear is growing strong. 

“Let’s drink!” Nancy cheers. 

Steve’s eyes stay on you, watching how you raise the cup to your lips and how you knock back the whiskey in one go, not even scrunching up your face in disgust. He gulps down his own and scoots closer to you, patting you on the back softly. 

“Atta girl.” 

You try to not feel affected by his words or his soft touch but it’s hard not to, especially when he speaks to you like that. 

You know this won’t be the only moment tonight that will make you feel weak in the knees, and you know that getting drunk might not be the best idea here, especially now with your feelings being so overwhelming. 

But you don’t care because one drink turns into two, two into three, and then into four. By the time Eddie is pouring your fifth cup, you have gone into a complete state of bliss. A permanent smile is stuck on your face, giggles fall from your lips at every joke made. 

And Steve feels no different, he is in the same state as you are. You have both scooted closer to each other, leaning towards one another every time you burst into laughter. His hand finds yours every time you fall into a fit of giggles at some stupid joke Eddie makes or tells a story from the past.

And in your drunken haze, you grow a little more confident, a little more daring, though waiting for an opportunity when it ends with just the two of you. It doesn’t take long for that to happen because soon Nancy passes out with her head on Eddie’s lap, the latter leaning against the couch, slowly falling asleep as well. The two of them too tired from driving all day. 

But you and Steve are far from it, not interested in sleeping at all. He is the first to get up, keeping his balance even with the alcohol in his system. He grabs the whiskey bottle that is half empty now. 

“Come on, Sunshine.” He whispers, turning to face you with a lazy smirk on his face. He reaches his hand down to you, “let’s get out of here.”

You giggle, gazing up into his eyes. Your heart flutters at the sight of his messy hair. His cheeks are rosy, sleeves rolled up, revealing all the veins in his arms. 

“Where are you taking me, sir?” You whisper as you put your hand in his and let him pull you up onto your feet. Your blanket falls off your shoulders, and you leave it on the ground, not caring to take it with you. 

“We’re gonna explore, Cowgirl.”

You giggle at that and he quickly moves his finger towards your lips, shushing you. “We don’t wanna wake them up.”

Your eyes widen, though a smirk tugs at your lips, “why, do you want me all to yourself?” You whisper, your head tilting to the side. 

All the worry, all those insecurities, all those what if’s that were coursing through his mind before are gone at this moment, and he can’t find it in himself to care to hold back. A part of him feels confident, the other intrigued, and the biggest part of him feels desire and yearning for this, for you. 

“What if I do?” He murmurs as his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, expecting you to get flustered, but instead, you take another step closer to him. 

“Well, you got me all to yourself now.”

Steve hums, his stomach flipping at your comment. He takes your hand, squeezing it as he smiles at you, “come on.”

You both tip toe out of the room, making sure not to wake either of them. You step out into the hallway, trying not to step on any creaking floorboards. 

“Where to first?” Steve whispers as he grabs the flashlight from his back pocket after handing you the bottle of whiskey. You instantly raise it up to your lips, taking a swig. 

“Hey now,” he shakes his head at you, “easy with the whiskey, little lady.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the deep tone in his voice and at the plastered frown on his pretty face. You take a step away from him, not letting go of his hand just yet. 

“Or what?” You raise your eyebrows. 

Steve lowers his eyebrows, a suggestive look flashing in his features. His eyes follow the drop of whiskey that rolls down your chin. Sober Steve would think about it but not do it, drunk Steve acts on his feelings though – he steps forward and brings his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek as he wipes away the drop of whiskey. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his action. Your stomach flipping with excitement and desire. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as you look into his eyes. 

Everything happened so quickly, so suddenly. It went from zero to one hundred. You don’t even know how it happened, how you went from shy touches to this but you aren’t complaining, not when he looks at you like this, not when he touches you like this, not when you see the chance of something more happening between you. 

The alcohol in your system makes this feeling between you so much stronger, like you threw fuel into the fire and the flames are burning higher and brighter now. 

Steve is looking at your lips, you are looking at his. All it would take is for one of you to make a move, just one step closer, just one. 

You aren’t your usual selves tonight, barely anything is holding you back and yet, the smallest part, the smallest voices in your heads, manage to break this moment apart. You don’t know who pulls away first, but a few seconds later, you are moving through the hallway again, still hand in hand. 

“I’ll pick out a hat for you.” You whisper to him, looking up at the collection of cowboy hats on the wall. 

“You don’t wanna wear one?” Steve asks, looking down at you. 

“No, I want you to wear one.” 

Steve aims the flashlight at the wall, though he isn’t looking at the hats, he is looking down at you. His heart thumping strongly, his stomach burning in desire. A mixture of emotions rushing through him. 

He watches the way your eyelashes flutter, the way you keep biting on your lip, the way you scrunch your nose up at certain hats. Steve swallows, the desire growing stronger with each passing second. Then his eyes move down to your neck, to the very revealing vest on your body, the black lace peeking out, your skin, your boobs–

“This one!” 

Steve blinks, swallowing harshly as you pull him out of his stupor. 

“I can’t reach it!” You pout as you look back at him, still holding your arm out towards the black hat. 

Steve doesn’t even think before he moves. He puts the flash light down and grabs the bottle of whiskey from your hand, placing it down on the ground as well before he steps up behind you. “I got it,” Steve murmurs into your ear, his lips getting caught in your hair. Instead of just taking the hat himself, he grabs your hips and he lifts you up with ease. 

You almost squeal in surprise, but you manage to hold it back. Your body heats up, burning like the flames in the fireplace, but you enjoy the moment, a little too much. His hands are big, his arms strong – you always knew, but this is making everything in you flutter. 

“Got it,” you giggle as you grab the hat off the hook. 

Steve puts you down again but he doesn’t let go of your hips just yet. His thumbs brush against your bare skin between your vest and your belt. Your skin is so soft, and you smell so sweet, so intoxicating. Your scent drives him crazy, every night when he goes to sleep with you, every morning when he wakes up with you in his arms but now… now it all feels more intense. 

His touch makes you feel weak, it brings out feelings in you that weren’t there before. And when you feel his breath on your neck, his nose in your hair, you almost lose it. Almost. You take a deep breath and turn around to face him. His hands are still holding your hips, grip never loosening. 

You bat your eyelashes at him as you rise up on your tippy toes, holding eye contact as you bring your hand up to fix his messy hair, the bang sticking up. 

His grip tightens on you in response, the feeling of your hands in his hair doing things to him that he can’t even explain. 

“There,” you whisper as you place the hat on his head. “Pretty Cowboy.”

Despite the cocky smirk appearing on his face, he also feels the heat spreading, feeling himself blushing, strongly. His heart skipping in his chest at your compliment. If only he could act upon his desire – he is already doing so, but still holding back. 

“Come on,” you whisper, reaching for his hand again. You bend down and retrieve the stuff from the floor. You press the whiskey bottle into his free hand and keep the flashlight in yours.

Steve tries to not look at your body when you walk up the stairs before him, but it’s hard not to do that when you move your hips the way you do, when your ass looks so good in those tight jeans. 

He swallows harshly, his eyes glued to you. His lower stomach flutters, and his breathing turns shaky. His desire for you had always been there, but never like this. The more he gets a taste of what it could be like to have you, the more his hunger grows. 

You make your way through the darkened hallway upstairs, finding a room that looks like it used to be an art room once. 

“Oh wow…” You breathe as you walk in further, eying all the drawings on the table, the paintings on the wall. You let go of Steve’s hand and pick up one of the wooden sculptures. 

Steve already misses the touch of your hand but he lets you explore the room. He looks around as well, noticing the camera on the shelf. He makes his way towards it, squinting his eyes because of the darkness in this room. He blows the dust off and picks it up, surprised to see it still turning on. He puts down the whiskey bottle, giving his entire focus to the camera. 

He polishes the camera lens with the sleeve of his flannel. He glances at you to see you standing close to the window now, the light of the flashlight kissing your features subtly. A smile tugs at his lips when your eyes light up. You look so beautiful. He raises the camera up, squinting one eye as he tries to get the perfect shot of you. 

You are so focused on the sculpture shaped into a horse that you don’t even hear the snap going off. 

“This is so nice,” you smile, putting down the sculpture. You turn to face Steve. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the polaroid camera in his hand, not even noticing how he stuffed something into his back pocket. “Oh my god!” 

You rush towards him, taking the camera from his hand. 

“I’ve been looking for one everywhere!” You gasp, turning it in your hand. “Is it still working?” 

“Try it.” He smiles innocently. 

Your eyes flash with excitement as you take a step back. Bringing the camera up to your face, you aim it at him. “Perfect, now I get to keep a reminder of this.”

Steve chuckles. The never fading blush stays on his cheeks as he poses just for you. Not in a million years would he act this goofy with anyone. But he does it for you. So he holds the edge of his hat, almost tipping it as if saluting the camera, and his right hand is hooked on one of the belt loops of his pants. He hears the camera shutter going off, and you are smiling widely, bouncing on your feet as you hold your hand to the device to grab the picture developing already.

Once in your possession, you look at it in awe as you shake it, fanning it so it develops faster, and soon enough, your cowboy appears in the picture. He was born to wear these clothes. He sure is going to kill you someday. Your heart can barely handle it right now, but maybe the alcohol is helping with that one. The camera gets taken out of your hands, making you look at Steve, who is smirking already, a dangerous smirk that almost sends your knees to the floor.

You are startled when you feel a hat being placed on your head, his hat, and your thighs clench. You giggle a bit as you bite your bottom lip, your eyes finding his through your eyelashes, your hand stuffing the picture into your backpocket.

“Do you know the hat rule?” He tilts his head in question, a lazy smile on his lips, his body dangerously close as he moves a strand of your hair behind your ear. His voice almost a whisper.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He honestly doesn’t know what you are talking about but he also doesn’t even know when he got this close to you. He didn’t realize it. He also didn’t realize how his fingers were playing with your belt, and how your fingertips were running up and down his arms, almost without your knowledge.

“No, it’s more like… something that has to be shown.” Your eyes are fluttering and his chest is brushing with your own body and his lips are some tippy toes away. Your heart is hammering in your chest thanks to your emotions, to the alcohol, and to the heavy tension that hangs in the air, that hangs between the two of you. 

He wobbles in his place for a second, dizzy by just looking down at you. How bad leaning down could be?

But a rough rattling makes the two of you jump in your place, something having hit the side of the house and you wouldn’t be surprised it was either a tree or an infected. He steps away from you, feeling a bit more awkward than courageous now. He had to change the situation back to friendly. He had to. He points at you with the camera, a smile on his lips.

“Pose for me, cowgirl.” You smile widely, heading a few steps back, heading towards the large porcelain horse sculpture in the corner. Steve frowns because, when did that spawn? He shrugs, following you until he sees you pose, holding onto the horse that is standing on two of its feet. He snorts when you pretend to give the horse a kiss, and is that jealousy he feels for a piece of inanimate porcelain?

He swallows when you pull your vest down tighter, a more provocative pose. More skin of yours being revealed, more of your flesh that he wants to touch. He takes a picture and he is trying to think of something else to distract you from taking that last one for himself. He pretends to jump and turn around in his place. 

“What’s in the other rooms? I wonder if Eddie went into one of those.” He lies as he moves away and you jump up, rushing to get the whiskey bottle and following Steve as he holds the flashlight and camera. 

“Wait for me!” You whine. Steve is biting his bottom lip as he looks at the developing picture in the same hand he holds the flashlight. Mission accomplished. He sees you rush forward in front of him and– His eyes stuck to your ass again. You really should stop moving like this. Today is not the best day for you to show off that you look this good in tight jeans.

He sees you open the door from the room that is next to the one you two were just in. 

“Holy fuck…” A plastic wrap covers the entirety of it, protecting it from dust, bugs and humidity. Your eyes open like plates as well, sighing in surprise as you approach the massive mattress. 

Your hands immediately grab onto the plastic and you start ripping it off. Steve walks over to the dresser, wiping the surface off before placing the camera and then the flashlight on it, making it face the ceiling to turn it into a pretend lamp. It is very dim, but it works. He wobbles towards you, helping you with the weight of the plastic wrap. He almost tumbles a few times, which only makes you giggle. Once the plastic is off, you get on the bed, standing in the middle of it with your knees. 

“Sunshine–?” His voice gets cut off when you start bouncing, your hips going up and down and up and down, and your breasts and your body and– 

“Oh, this wasn’t made just for sleeping!” You giggle as if unaware of the images you just gave him. The fucking fantasies that flashed in his mind in a milisecond. You had just conjured images of yourself in many positions and with much less clothes than you had now, and you managed all that by just bouncing on a bed. 

He has to focus. The alcohol is making it all go south. It is going faster by the minute, and he is afraid of not being able to stop it. He feels sweaty, suffocated, and then you plop down on the bed with a huff, taking off the hat, you throw it on the bedside table. Laying on that bed would not be a good idea. Drunk Steve should leave. Drunk Steve should look away. Drunk Steve should leave you alone for the night.

But he can’t control himself. He wants to be near you. He wants to be close to you. So he lies down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. His head starts spinning in a good way, and oh fuck, he is sure having a hangover tomorrow. 

“I’m so fucking drunk that I feel so good, Stevie…” You mumble out, and he smiles, nodding.

“Me too.” He turns on his side to look at you properly, and you are still looking up.

“Does sex feel this good too? I imagine it does.” Your question catches him off guard. Sober Steve would have become nervous and wouldn’t have known what to properly say. He hums, making you look at him.

“It depends.”

“Depends?”

“Mhm. You can have sex, sure, but if the other person only cares for their own pleasure and is selfish? Kinda sucks. Or sex without feelings, that also sucks too.” You are caught off guard by his answer, making you turn on your side to face him. Despite the wide bed, you two are close, too close. Maybe one hand away from each other.

“So, you never had sex just because?” You ask, and he chuckles, nodding.

“I have, that’s why I can tell you that sex like that sucks.” You blink a few times, feeling a lump in your throat. Your head is spinning, and your heart is singing, and you don’t know if it is nausea or butterflies in your belly, but maybe it is a mix.

“And… would you do it again?” His eyes find yours at your question, and one of the qualities alcohol had was that it made you honest.

“Sex without feelings?... No. I wouldn’t, Sunshine.” And for some reason, that answer of his made you want to sigh out of relief. But the answer made you think a bit more, your eyes moving down from his.

“I wouldn’t do it normally… but I don’t think there’s another way for me to experience it… So I guess I would.” His heart plummeted at that. You would give your virginity away if the situation were to present itself. He felt his throat closing up at the thought of it, and rationally he should not care. Rationally, he should nod at it, and if it happened, good for you.

But fuck does he feel sick thinking of the possibility of another man touching you.

The horrible thought gets interrupted when you let out a big sigh, your eyes slowly closing.

“I hope my kids don’t get to see this, the world as it is now.” Your words shock him, making him raise up using his elbow for support, which kind of makes him dizzy.

“You… what kids?” You open your eyes to find his alarmed ones, making you giggle as you shake your head.

“I don’t have kids now! I meant– I meant my future kids, if medicine allows me to have them.” Your giggle dies down when you find him just staring at you. You feel a little intimidated and shy, making you pout. “I like the idea of having kids, sue me! I’m 22 years old!”

His heart becomes a furnace of pure warmth with your words, making his mind feel a little foggy, a little heavy. His eyes drift down for a second towards your belly… just one second. Fuck, oh no.

“I didn’t say anything, I was just surprised.” You see him lay back down with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “I want kids too. Six, to be exact.” 

“SIX!?” You yell, the emotion coming out naturally at the surprise. 

"I know, I know, it's a lot and the world isn't the best place to be right now but... I just want a big family. I always did.” He admits to you for the first time. Your eyes are looking at his profile, your mind filled with possibilities, with images of a future that started including little details you never expected.

"That sounds... nice. A big house... with a pool. A dog. Maybe one set of them are twins..." You start with your rambling, your eyes looking up at the ceiling as the image forms right in front of your eyes. Steve smiles, as if connected to you, as if he could see what you were imagining.

"Get to take them to the lake. Buying a suv." You giggle at those words, but nodding nonetheless. He follows you with a chuckle, looking at you at the same time you turn your head to look at him.

"Can't forget the family movie nights." He nods at that, and his voice starts lowering, his stomach flipping into itself as the words slip out of his lips before he could contain them.

"Yeah... and then when the kids are all sleeping, I can finally be alone with... my wife, partner. Have that solitude for each other." And you hum for a minute in thought, not realizing how Steve was looking at you.

"Honestly, with six kids? I think the one thing I would do is sleep." And you giggle but Steve keeps looking at you. Just looking at you.

"Yeah... you would definitely sleep." Steve smiles, still staring at you, never looking away from you, not even when he catches himself thinking of that future with you. Of walking into the living room after putting the last kid to bed, ready to spend the night on the couch with you, only to find you sleeping. The image of that is so endearing to him. His warm smile widens, his chest flutters with warmth. 

You close your eyes, humming at his words. A lazy, yet happy smile lingers on your face as you move closer to him, searching for his warmth, for his touch. 

“You getting tired, sleepy head?” He whispers, his eyes softening as he watches you snuggle up against him. 

You only nod in response. 

Your hand brushes against his, and he looks down, moving without thinking. He envelopes your hand in his, pressing his larger palm against your own. 

You open your eyes, and you are so close now that your nose almost brushes against his. Your breath hitches in your throat as his own does too. 

Steve’s eyes flicker across your face, staying on your lips for longer than they should, for it to mean nothing, for it to be friendly. You look down at his lips too, craving them on your own so badly. 

Your heart skips a beat. You want to kiss him, you want to kiss him so badly. And everything in the way he looks at you, in the way he squeezes your hand as he finally entwines his fingers with your own, tells you that he wants it too. 

And yet, neither of you make the final move. 

Neither of you step over the line that you both want to cross so badly. 

But you won’t lie and say that all his reactions, all his actions tonight, didn’t fill you with confidence. 

For tonight, you move closer, giving him one last smile and a squeeze to his hand before you curl into him, snuggling against his body and tucking your head under his chin. And your confidence only grows when he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, to squeeze you, and pull you into his embrace. 

And then… he presses his lips to the top of your head, and your final decision is made. 

So maybe you won’t kiss him tonight, but you will kiss him tomorrow. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington

[antinitoniny]

anton as your affectionate bf: headcanons

this is so long help + it’s organized in sections 😁😁

💭 anton x fem!reader

💭 texts in pink: oc, texts in blue: anton

💭 fluff fluff fluff (and crack)

physical touch

- anton might be the humanized version of ‘physical touch.’

- hand always on ur back or around ur hips

- top of the head kisses

- fixing ur necklace or hair while you’re talking

- as long as you’re in the same room, anton can’t last a minute without physical contact.

- anton’s hand will always be on ur hip or around ur waist.

- he’s backhugging u like 30% of the day

- morning kisses. barely awake kisses.

- tracing anton’s nose while he’s sleeping (he’s actually awake so he’s giggling w his eyes closed)

- “TON I LOVE U BUT IT’S SO HOT. STOP HUGGING ME” “are we breaking up”

- waking up w his leg on you, his face nuzzled on ur neck, and his hand placed light on ur head — it’s a heavy morning.

- “can i bite you?” */stares at anton for 5mins* “is that a yes”

- imagine being against pda while dating a guy who'd tear up if you sit on the other side of the table at dinner? yea, anton.

- fav kissing spot: anton’s nose

- his fav kissing spot: */his nose bled while trying to answer the question

- you guys would last for 5hrs on the couch in silence as long as anton’s wrapped around you

down bad anton

- when he’s talking about his day but you’re rlly focused on what he’s saying so he got flustered all of a sudden “stop staring at me, you’re making me nervous” — “YOU’RE telling a story, where else am i supposed to look at?”

- suddenly smiling from ear to ear during breakfast because “1 year ago, i just thought you’re really nice to me and now i’m eating breakfast with you in our shared apartment” */insert anton giggles (and grumpy you ‘coz u js woke up & he’s talking non sense)

- smiling from ear to ear whenever he hears ur name in his group of friends. (would result to 1hr of anton yapping about how cute you were yesterday and the day before that, and two weeks ago)

- anton buying matching EVERYTHING. and giving them to you with a shy smile.

- matching rings, matching trinkets, matching bracelets, matching phone cases— told u, everything.

- “why are you hugging me all of a sudden?” “you’re the cutest i adore you so much” (you’re just eating bread)

- “hi, can we date with the intention of marrying you & having pets as many as you want”, “anton, we’ve been together for almost two years”, “oh, i thought i was being delusional”

- even on casual days, anton would send his newly made playlists for you.

- "i'm gonna take a nap" "okay, me too" "are you sleepy?" "no" "then why..?" "i wanna take a nap with you"

- anton taking care of you when you're sick. and you always feel bad. "baby, sleep somewhere elsee. you'll catch my fever" "i can't sleep without you next to me"

- "have i told you that i love you?" - anton says while eating dinner.

- anton having five story highlights with just you

- anton using a photo of the two of you as his profile photo in every social media platform.

- has two pouches of things that you MIGHT need in his everyday bag (thats why his bags r always gigantic)

- anton's really expressive. he's expressive but would get shy right after saying that he loves you.

cute stuff

- "they're cute, they're just like us" - anton w every single couple in a romance movie

- anton learning how to cook your favorite foods & baking ur fav pastries at home

- would always be on a facetime w u even in social events (he can’t function w/o seeing u)

- anton massaging u after a long week !!!

- handwritten notes :(

- anton writing post-its and sticking it on ur forehead while you’re sleeping whenever he has to leave early in the morning

- anton writing DETAILED handwritten letters for you every monthsary to tell u his favorite moments w u that month, to tell u that he’s proud of u for every single thing that u’ve done that month. he’s such a words of affirmation guy.

- anton not ordering a lot because he knows that u get full easily so he’ll get to eat ur leftovers anyway

- but anton would always make sure that you’ll eat A LOT. that’s why he’ll research a lot about the restaurant menus that you’ll eat in.

- anton brushing your hair every night

- anton letting you style his hair (once went to work w pigtails)

- reading together (and anton falling asleep on ur shoulder right after one chapter)

- SUNDAY RESET IS ANTON’S FAVORITE DAY !!! the everything shower, doing each other’s nails, cooking together, eating a homemade fancy dinner with candles, talking about your week, and ending the day with wearing couple face masks while watching a 2000s romcom movie.

- anton going with you to ur nail appointment and him sitting next to you for 2 hours.

- anton’s closet is basicslly your closet, and your closet is basically anton’s.

- you wearing anton’s clothes & anton wearing your watches and accessories in a daily basis

- gazing at each other in the midst of the crowd, exchanging warmest smiles

- anton running to you to carry you in a hug

- you mentioning that you like this specific cake ONCE in a casual conversation and anton buying it for you every night.

- “did you hear something?” “BABY STOP SCARING ME”

- when you wanna wear something revealing but you asked anton first so now he doesn’t know if he’ll be mesmerized with you or he’ll be offended that you think he won’t let you wear that

- anton waiting for you to come home til midnight because he wants to have dinner with you (it’s 12am)

- anton carrying your handbag / shoulder bag as if it’s his bag.

soft spots

- arguments w antons barely happen but when it does, it often ends almost immediately.

- anton’s always the one to apologize first. even though you’re at fault, anton makes sure to talk to you without making you feel invalidated.

- anton’s definitely a date to marry guy. which is why during deep talks, he’s always talking about the future with you.

- anton finding you crying. he won’t ask why, he’ll just hug you warmly til you feel better. once you’re feeling better, he’ll buy u guys pints of ice cream and watch your comfort movie in silence and in each other’s arms.

- imagine anton’s soft voice welcoming you home after a tiring day. "how was your day, my love?" anton asks, carrying your bag, gently pulling you to the couch so he can massage your shoulders while you spend 2 hours talking about your day.

- mornings with anton are always so warm. you're cooking your breakfast while anton's just hugging you from the back. his face buried at the side of your neck, while talking casually about your plans for that day.

[mentalmeles]

Suddenly thinking about a recovering Bucky Barnes.

His brain was obviously heavily damaged due to all the times he was given electroshocks to forget, but do you think he had any other issues besides memory displacement and memory loss? Seizures? Tics? Stuttering? Tremors? Headaches? Chronic fatigue? Not to mention his PTSD from everything that happened to him while he was under Hydra’s control and from the war itself. I’m willing to bet Hydra hardly fed him or let him sleep (the closest he could ever get was being put under). I also can’t imagine all the kinds of drugs they also would’ve given him to keep him more compliant and submissive, so there’s withdrawal symptoms to consider, too.

When he’s eventually in a place to actually take care of himself/be taken care of, I imagine his serum would finally be able to catch up and heal some of the damage, rather than just doing the bare minimum and keeping him functioning. But it obviously wouldn’t heal everything. He still forgets, still sometimes wakes up and thinks it’s WW2 or is startled to find that Steve is no longer small. Sometimes he loses the light in his eyes and asks what his mission is and insists that he’s ready to comply. Sometimes he doesn’t speak for days. Sometimes all he can do is lay in bed with the lights turned off and the curtains closed, leaving him in total darkness as his head aches and aches..

But he loses his stutter over time, unless he’s particularly overwhelmed or his thoughts are just too fast for his mouth to keep up with. He doesn’t tic as much. He no longer eyes all possible exits or keeps hidden weapons on him all the time. He remembers his childhood and his family. He has an appetite again. He opens himself up to others. He smiles and teases and laughs. He is able to love and allows himself to be loved.

Bucky Barnes’ mother had always said he was a resilient kid. And, these days, he’s so glad that she was right.

[b1eedthefreak]

Can I Have a Bite?

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

Summary: Reader can’t stop staring at Daryl and he finally asks why!

Warnings: Reader bites daryl… but she’s just doing what we’re (me) all thinking

⸻

The scent of simmering vegetables and freshly cooked rabbit filled the air as you stood beside Carol, stirring the pot over the fire. The quiet rhythm of cooking was comforting, but your attention was far from the task at hand. Your gaze was locked onto something far more distracting. Daryl.

He had just returned from hunting, his sleeveless shirt clinging to his skin, damp with sweat. His crossbow hung off his shoulder as he made his way toward camp, his muscles flexing with each step. Those arms. Those damn arms.

You were so lost in watching the way his biceps flexed when he lifted his crossbow that you barely noticed Carol turning to look at you. It wasn’t until she let out a knowing chuckle that you snapped out of your trance.

“You’re burning the stew,” Carol said, clearly amused.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly looked down at the pot, stirring it with a little too much urgency. “No I’m not!”

Carol smirked, arms crossed over her chest. “Oh, please. You’ve been standing there with heart eyes for the past five minutes.”

“I have not!” you protested, even as warmth crept up your neck.

Carol only chuckled. “Mhm. That man walks in, and suddenly you forget how to function.” She shot you a look before glancing over at Daryl, who was now unloading his kill. “Not that I blame you. Those arms could do some damage.”

You groaned, covering your face. “Carol!”

She laughed, nudging you. “What? That’s your man. You should be staring.”

Before you could even think of a response, Daryl glanced up from his spot near the hunting gear. His brow furrowed slightly as he caught you staring.

Your eyes widened in panic, and you quickly looked down at the pot, stirring it so aggressively that a few drops of broth splashed over the side.

Carol was full on giggling now. “Smooth.”

Daryl, still looking confused, shook his head and went back to what he was doing.

Later that night, you and Daryl lay in your shared tent, tangled beneath a pile of blankets. The sounds of crickets filled the air, and the fire outside had long since burned down to glowing embers. Daryl’s breathing was slow, steady, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You should’ve been exhausted, but you weren’t. Not when your mind was still stuck on those damn biceps.

Daryl shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His blue eyes flickered over you, still filled with sleep. “Alright, what was that about?”

You blinked innocently. “What was what about?”

He gave you a look. “Ya know what. Ya starin’ at me all weird earlier. Thought maybe I had somethin’ on my face.”

A grin slowly spread across your lips as you reached out, running your fingers over his bicep. “I was admiring these.”

Daryl blinked. “The hell?”

You giggled, poking his arm. “They’re just so big. I love them.”

Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. “Damn it girl what has gotten into you?”

Instead of answering, you leaned down and playfully bit his bicep.

Daryl jerked slightly, staring at you like you’d lost your mind. “Did—did you just bite me?”

You grinned up at him. “Yep.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re killing me.”

You only giggled, pressing a soft kiss to where you’d bitten him. “I can’t help it, Daryl. You’re just so… ugh.”

“Ugh?” He repeated, raising a brow.

“Ugh in a good way,” you clarified, snuggling closer.

Daryl shook his head, but his arm wrapped around you, pulling you against him. “Yer lucky I love ya.”

You smiled, pressing your face into his chest. “I know.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you poked his bicep again. “Daryl?”

He groaned. “Woman, if ya say one more thing about my arms—”

You giggled. “I was just gonna say… do you work out?”

He pulled the blanket over his head. “Goin’ to sleep.”

You bit your lip, barely containing your laughter as you wiggled closer, pressing another kiss to his arm. “Goodnight, big strong man.”

Daryl groaned dramatically but didn’t let go of you. If anything, he pulled you closer.

And you knew, without a doubt, that he loved every second of it.

—

a/n does anyone else want to bite daryl or it just me… also i love carol sm i will be incorporating her into more of my daryl stuff because like she is daryl and readers #1 supporters

[whatifitis]

♡ how do you want me? - OP 81 ♡

Summary: A wet dream has you grasping for something to feel (or someone). Will your needs be fulfilled?

Author's Note: This is a rework of one of my old fics. It was originally posted to my Spencer Reid blog but now it's been made for Oscar

WC: 639

CW: a bit of fingering, bit of smut, Oscar is dominant if you squint your eyes and don't blink, fluff i think?, we also (lovingly) call Oscar a bitch at some point :P, use of the word brat for a milisecond

It had been a long day. Oscar had left early in the morning, not without lightly kissing your neck and wrapping his hand around your waist. His warm breath caressing your neck, his hand roaming your body, slowly making its way lower and lower, down your front. He lightly swept his finger against your clothed clit, making you whine and squirm. You moved your hips forward, silently begging Oscar for more. He took the hint and slipped his hand under the front of your panties, inching his way towards where you needed him most. You were practically soaking, your thighs sticky with your slick. Oscar softly and slowly rubbed your clit with one finger, slightly teasing you. 

“Please Oscar, more. I need more.” you whined, attempting to somewhat grind against his hand. 

Who was he to deny his favorite girl? He then moved his hand further down, inserting a finger into your cunt, slowly pumping in and out. it felt good but you needed more, you needed to feel him. Oscar then inserted another finger and started pumping his fingers a bit faster. You could feel yourself hurtling towards your orgasm. Just a bit more and you were going to be there. You could feel your stomach turning and tightening at once. The string in your stomach was about to snap, you were so close you could taste it. The only sounds to be heard were your moans and the sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

But you woke up, it was a fucking dream. Oscar had actually left early in the morning for work, but only having left you with a kiss on your head as you were fast asleep. 

You were now feeling all types of discomfort, and your panties were soaked through due to your dream. You knew if you tried to relieve yourself, it wouldn’t feel half as good as when Oscar does it, so you got up and spent the day waiting for him to come home. You spent most of the day absolutely feral due to your lack of an orgasmic high that you’ve been craving. Not only that but you were dead tired. And you were too horny and frustrated to take a nap to pass the time. Your eyes were itching for sleep, you could barely function. 

Oscar got home quite late. You were on the sofa, mindlessly watching a film when you heard his keys rustle in the doorway. You listened as he dropped his bag onto the ground, kicking his shoes off and taking his coat off before joining you on the sofa. With a huff, Oscar plopped onto the sofa. 

“Hi darling, how was your day?” you ask as you run your fingers through his unruly hair, making him let out a groan that makes the heat between your legs grow. 

“It was alright, Lando was Lando, and the social media team had us working overtime. I'm glad to finally be home though. I missed you.” he said, giving you a quick peck on the lips. (not the lips you wanted though 😗)

“I'm sorry darling, is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” you asked, itching to please him whilst pleasing yourself. 

“No, just be with me please.”

“How do you want me?” you asked seductively, moving to straddle him before he pushed your leg back.

“In bed. Asleep. Get your dark circles out of my face.”

“Bitch. I’m fucking horny.” 

“Okay? The bags under your eyes are so bad. You look like a raccoon, love.”

“Fuck me then i’ll sleep.”

Oscar moves too fast for your brain to register. One minute you’re sitting beside him on the sofa, the next you’re being pinned down by Oscar with your back on the floor.

“Alright then. Have it your way, brat.”

[pizzaapeteer]

coming from a sleepy girl rn, i just really wanted to write something tiny, about sleepy Mattheo who I wanna wrap up in my clothes

“Mattheo!” Another attempt at calling after the rugged boy falls short on his ears and you huff with exhaustion. Having followed behind the disappearing shadow, and snow covered footsteps for the past few corners struggling with little efforts to catch up. He trudged with his hands shoved in his pockets to battle the cold, walking along the aisles down the courtyard.

He wasn’t even walking that fast, a lethargic dawdle much like that of tortoise - yet it still made for a much quicker pace than your shorter legs. They moved with haste finally breaking into a run, being careful not to slip on the snowy cobblestones. Now within distance, you reach, taking ahold of his arm to grab his attention. “Matty!”

His head jerks with sluggish movements at the sound of your exasperated voice, a soft huh exhaling out as he halts his steps barely having time to grip onto your wrist before you can skid straight past him. His voice is low and filled with heavy sleep, his eyes lifting with recognition and he smiles tiredly. “Oh hey baby...what’s up?”

His body radiates with low energy like a car barely keeping its engine alive, unlike his usual comical suave self. His eyes are weary, while his neck struggles to hold the heavy head nearing a dramatic droop. He doesn't want you to fuss over his lack of sleep, knowing these are the consequences of his overachieving cocky attitude, resulting in another essay left last minute and an all-nighter cram.

So he just continues to give you a smile but doesn't say anything deciding with the little part of his brain still functioning, that keeping his mouth shut is best.

You raise an amused brow at his exhausted tone, and grin at his adorable lazy smile, “Good morning! Are you trying to freeze yourself to death!?” You examine his lack of extra layers with a disapproval gaze, dressed in only sweatpants and a hoodie which you assumed he slept in.

He watches the small scoff you let out, the way those pretty eyes of yours roll playfully at his ridiculous lack of care for warmth. Before the heat and softness of your own beanie is squashed down over his curls with a tight pull snuggly. “You look cold.” You comment with concern. "And tired."

He doesn’t protest too tired to even utter a mere grumble as his head jerks sideways in your assault of motherly warmth. He likes when you do things for him, makes him feel special and needed. “Mm’fine baby, I’m not” he pauses, extending his sentence to mid yawn, “-cold at all.” His soft brown eyes continue to blink back the battling sleep threatening to consume him as he denies your words.

“Uh huh, yeah well I say differently.” Your lips brim into a sweet adoring smile, studying his features closely. The tip of his nose beginning to scarlet from the cold, his eyelashes fluttering again as he looks down at you with a droopy lidded gaze trying to stop another ambush of yawns, the warmth of your clothes making him extra sleepy.

He offers a small smile, finally humming a tired acknowledgement at your comment, he knows better than to argue with you. Especially in his weak and weary state. His fingers tighten their grip around the fabric of your coat bringing you further into his embrace, wishing he was more awake to touch you properly. They drum, flexing in an impatient fidget, while happy to see you he knows he's going to be useless towards you until he continues his original goal of obtaining a fuckload of caffeine.

"Did you sleep at all mattheo?"

"mm, maybe..." He comments, rubbing the palm of his hand into his eyes with another deep yawn. "or am I'm asleep right now?.. I do already dream of you." His body jerks forwards at the sudden tug of your scarf now hung around his neck, his feet shuffling between your legs. "woah hey."

You laugh pushing aside your interest in his bad habits, flattered by his ability to charm you on the brink of exhaustion. "does this happen in your dreams?" Leaning up, your hands caress his cold cheeks and grant him a sweet good morning kiss. A burst of warmth and goodness floods him and he groans, brushing his hand into your hair.

It’s quick and soft and when you part you stay close to him, resting your warm lips brushed up against his. “how are you so cute even when your half dead, and looking adorable in my clothes.”

His laugh is soft and breathless, and he offers a slightly brighter grin, "It's called talent baby, and we do far more than just kissing in my dreams." He sighs, "but fuck if I don't get coffee in me soon I will be a deadless zombie all day.

“What my kisses aren’t enough to zing you awake?”

“Nope.”

You laugh rolling your eyes at his blunt answer, knowing whenever he’s this needy for coffee there’s no schmoozing him over. “Alright sleepy boy I’ll lead the way.” The warmth of your hand slides into his, and with an easy tug you lead your poor sleepy boyfriend towards the only thing with a stronger hold over you; a hot cup of jo.

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