#also I liked the use of his assistant Carol

[daydreamerdrew]

Whiz Comics (1940) #2

[cherrychilli]

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

~

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.  

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

[r6eduss]

Sweetness.

•Summary: Daryl and reader haven’t had time for each other lately, because of this the reader begins to have doubts and insecurities but Daryl is quick to ease them. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Soft Dom!Daryl, Smut. Major character death spoilers.

•Word Count: 3.1k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth.

•A/N: Guys this is my first fic, I was bored and decided why not make fanfiction soo.. 😭 also inspired by @/corvidcrossbow ‘s I like it long fic 🫶🏼

You had been overly busy, overwhelmed with the labor that the Commonwealth had brought upon you. Having to deal with the changes of when the world just fell was difficult enough, finally adjusting to the wickedness and horrors of this world just to have to adjust to how the world used to be all over again? It’s been a hassle on you and Daryl’s backs.

Before the world had fallen, you were still in college, studying and planning to pursue to become a doctor. When you arrived at the Commonwealth, you had been beyond confused what your occupation before the apocalypse had anything to do with why you should’ve been accepted into this place, soon finding out that you would receive a position of employment that would be just like what you used to be before everything went down.

Not only have you been beyond exhausted with your position, lately Nabila has needed extra assistance with her and the children, and who are you to decline? You’ve always been a shoulder that your family can lean on.

Today was finally one of those days that you had off, and of course you had spent the majority of your day babysitting the children. You didn’t hate spending time with them, in fact, you enjoyed it. But you were beyond exhausted and craved some time alone with your unofficial husband, Daryl.

It was around around 9:45 pm at night, and you at last entered your shared apartment. The silence was loud, feeling ringing in your ears from it. Judith and RJ had been at Carol’s house for the day, and Daryl had been out being a soldier for our community, so you were accompanied with quietness and some time for yourself. It was honestly quite comforting, considering how overwhelmed you have felt lately.

You had sat down on your couch, pinching the space between your eyes that rested at the top of your nose and closing your eyes. “God..” you let out a sigh, feeling drained and spent. You gave yourself a couple seconds of emptiness then proceeded to get up and head for your shared bedroom with Daryl.

You placed your bag around one of the clothing hangers in your closet, and made your way to your dresser. You picked out a pair of panties, and a nightgown. With your clothes in hand, you headed towards the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a moment to reflect on all the events that took place before finally arriving at the Commonwealth. All the loses.. Carl, Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, Jesus, Tara and the list still goes on! You can't help but miss them and wish they were here to see the community that has been built here.

You catch yourself lost in your train of thought, and then work on stripping yourself of your clothes. You move to turn on the water, giving it a moment to get warm, then getting into the shower.

After your shower, you quickly slipped into your clean nightgown and panties. You took your used and dirty clothes and stuffed them into a basket, where you and Daryl’s laundry needed to be done. Standing next to your’s and Daryl’s queen sized bed, you quickly got comfortable under the sheets. A sigh left your lips, thinking of how much your mind and soul craved Daryl. Lately, you guys have had no time for yourselves.

You and Daryl have known each other since the quarry in Atlanta. At first, you thought he hated you, but sooner or later you realized that he isn’t one for communication. He showed his acts of love through his actions, always making sure you were safe.

Since the quarry, you had always stuck by his side. Sticking up for him when Rick, Glenn, T-dog and the others decided to leave his brother Merle on a rooftop alone. Daryl had refused your company at first, but with time, he warmed up to you and tolerated your presence. And eventually, he found himself falling for you, but of course you were the one to make the first move on him.

When you guys had arrived at the prison, that is when you made your move. It took a lot of self sabotaging on Daryl’s part before you guys had become official. And even then, Daryl isn’t particularly fond of label’s.

It had taken a lot of time for Daryl to start opening up to you even after you guys had established your love for each other. It was also awhile of staying at Alexandria for you guys to start getting intimate. Eventually with each other’s time together, you learned all about his trauma’s, the backstory of his scars and his childhood.

You were utterly in love with Daryl Dixon, and he was in love with you, he just had trouble saying those things out loud.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, your tummy immediately felt as if it was filled with butterflies while blood rushes to your face, knowing that it was Daryl finally coming home.

You lift your head up as Daryl enters your shared bedroom, he looks tired, exhausted.. His hair is laced with sweat while he’s in the commonwealth’s standardized white-color armor. You’ve always thought he looked quite handsome coming back from a run.

“Hey..” you begin to sit up, now facing your lover.

“Hey.” he gruffed out. Your heart began to ache as your thoughts were laced with worry. Daryl has been so worn out lately, and has barely had any time to see you. What if he was starting to lose the attraction he had for you? What if he was starting to realize he’s interested in someone else? That possibility could become a reality considering you found yourselves in a community of 50 thousand other people.

“So, how was the run today?” You try your hardest to ease the silence, the quietness that had comforted you earlier was no longer comforting. Your nerves began to eat you from the inside out that you began to fidget with your thumbs, that’s something you’d always do when you were nervous, everybody knew.

Daryl knew.

“It was ‘ight.” He quickly took notice of how you began to fidget.

“Wha’ is wrong with ya?” He looked right into your eyes, his tone infected with slight concern. He was waiting for your response as he began to take off the annoying armor that he was required to wear.

Your heart race began to speed up, worried that he would view you as insecure and pathetic, you decided to avoid telling him what you were truly worried about. “Nothing! Just.. had an exhausting week.” You hoped he’d take your answer and roll with it, you were deathly afraid of Daryl seeing you less than you are.

After Daryl finished taking off the armor, he decided to accept the answer you gave him for now. He was tired, and was in no mood to go back and forth.

“Daryl, you should probably take a shower.” you just wanted him to relax for once, even with Ezekiel being the leader of this place, he never once let his guard down and you just wanted him to finally rest.

“Hm. Ya wan’ to get in wit’ me?” Daryl is never one to initiate things, but one thing he always loved was being able to share a shower with you. It felt romantic. Intimate.

“I already showered. We can cuddle when you get out?” You didn’t think anything of your response, well that was until…

He let out what seemed like an annoyed grunt. He took his clothes and headed to the bathroom. You’ve never been more anxious. Did what you say bother him? Did you piss him off? You released an irritated grunt from your lips as you hear the shower head turn on. You decide to lay back down, feeling your brain fall into a spiral of unpleasant anxious thoughts.

It’s been almost 20 minutes, and you’ve been in a complete swirl of negativity. Your chest felt heavy, feeling your heart completely sunken. Were you having an anxiety attack? You eventually hear the shower head stop and you could’ve sworn you were on the verge of passing out, since when were you so nervous around Daryl? You’ve always been super comfortable around him, feeling safe. Maybe it’s because of all this time trying to survive and to keep our loved one’s alive.

Hearing the sounds of him getting dressed, you can’t help but feel more uneasy. You were never fond of people being angry at you, and especially Daryl of all people. Sooner or later, the bathroom door opens. You look up and see Daryl wearing a regular dark gray T-shirt with gray sweatpants, he never was one to sleep without a shirt, considering his scars.

He walks over to the basket of clothes that needs to be washed, and puts the clothes that he was wearing under the uncomfortable set of white armor in the basket.

He looks in your direction, catching you once again fidgeting with your thumbs.

You refuse to look at him, feeling strong tension between you and him. Your breath hitches as you feel the bed dip, noticing that he was getting right into bed, next to you. He starts to get comfortable, getting under the sheets and closer to you.

The both of you lay completely flat on your backs, That’s when you feel him put his arm around your shoulder and pull you closer to him, head laying on his chest.

“I know somethin’ is up.” He takes your hand, making it rest on his chest. “Talk t’me.”

All the warmth went immediately to your face. It felt as if you stopped breathing for a moment, you didn’t wanna be difficult, that’s when you decided to just tell him about your worries, he has a right to know after all.

“Daryl, I'm scared.”

“Scared of wha’?”

Taking a deep breath, you continue. “I’m scared that one day you’ll realize that maybe i’m not enough for you.” You pause for a moment, then resume. “And, are you annoyed with me?”

His eyes widened a bit, it’s not what he was expecting. Not in the slightest. He lifts his head a little.

“Nah, m’not annoyed with ya.” He proceeds to lay on his side, facing towards you. “An’ why are ya thinkin’ ya wouldn't be enough?” From the bottom of his heart, he doesn’t have a single clue where this is coming from. Daryl is the most loyal person on this shitty earth, and he can swear up and down that he loves you to death.

“I don’t know.. We’ve been so busy lately getting used to the Commonwealth, and there are so many people here! So many options.. Maybe eventually you’ll realize that i’m not what you truly want.” Shamefully, the truth escapes your lips. You’ve never felt more insecure. Usually, you felt secure within your relationship, but the stress has truly gotten to your head.

He moves closer to your face, and puts his hand on your cheek, cupping the side of your face. His thumb gently rubbing against it.

“Don’t want nobody here but you.”

Your heart skips a beat, Daryl isn’t one for being upfront, and he isn’t the greatest at comforting people, but he loves you, and he’s very sure of that.

He locks eyes with you, admiring you and your beauty. For a second you could’ve sworn he had stolen a glance at your lips? Or maybe you were seeing things.

Your mind feels more at ease, and you break out a slight giggle “I’m sorry. I know I sound stupid, I just miss you.”

He uses his other hand to move your hair strand out your face, and cup the other side of your face, moving closer. “Ya’ don’t sound stupid.” He’s quick to lean in, closing the gap between the both of you, finally stealing a kiss from you.

His lips are kind of chapped, but oddly enough, still soft. The kiss was soft and tender, only having pure love behind it. Your eyes flutter open, just to see him staring at you. “I love you.”

Your lips curve up into a passive and cute smile, he never says it first.

“I love you too.”

You lean in for another kiss, the both of you have been so touch starved these past couple days. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but more ambitious. Even the slightest things about Daryl can get you going, and you sure as hell are in need of some sex. Especially after these couple weeks.

You lean more into the kiss, and that’s when you hear a grunt come from him. You swear you could turn into a puddle right then and there.

Eventually, you pull away, obviously needing to breathe. “Daryl, i’ve missed you.”

The corner of his lips turn into a slight smirk, and he begins to gently place his hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“I know.”

That’s when he kisses you again, only this time using his hand on the back of your head to lean you in closer. This kiss was more needy.. More intimate.

You accidentally whine into the kiss, pressing your thighs together as you can already feel your panties start to get wet. He moves his hand from the back of your head to your waist, caressing and feeling your curves. He slowly makes his way to your thighs, where he takes the opportunity to pull you on top of him, and have you sitting on his lap while he lays on his back. You could feel his hard on.

“D-daryl.. I need you.” you say in a whine, you felt his cock twitch under you, he has his hands rested on your hips and has the most perfect view of you. He could stay like this forever.

“Yeah?” He said it in such a sweet and gentle tone it could drive you insane. One thing Daryl loved to do was tease you, he knew how flustered you could get. “Mhm.” You begin to tuck at his pants, looking into his eyes for approval.

With a slow nod, he consents. “G’on.” He wanted this as badly as you did, and tonight, he was going to make sure you were taken care of.

You were quick to go ahead and start to take off his pants and boxers while also taking off your nightgown, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock stretch out your tight cunt. He watched as you stripped him, missing every inch of you and your body.

Witnessing as his cock sprung out, your clit throbbed and you could feel your nipples harden. Daryl gently runs his hand through your hair, making sure that you are enjoying every inch of this. You prop yourself up, sliding your panties to the side and gripping his shaft while slowly lowering yourself onto it. You could’ve came right then and there. He stretched you out, and was always able to make you feel full and complete.

He lets out a low grunt, not only watching you lower yourself onto him, but also feeling the tight and warm sensation of you around him. You needed a moment to adjust to his size, you both haven’t made love since before the war with the whisperers, you just haven’t had the time.

After a moment, you began to move, slowly rocking your hips and lifting yourself up onto him. “Fuck..” You couldn’t help but let out a moan, you were full, and you were overly sensitive. Daryl squinted his eyes shut for a moment, he too had forgotten the bliss and feeling of him inside of your cunt.

With time, you sped up, bouncing on his cock. You threw back your head, rolling your eyes and having your mouth agape, It was almost embarrassing how slutty you looked. His hands roughly gripped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, while also thrusting up into you. You were close but you felt yourself starting to grow tired.

You buried your head into Daryl’s neck, whining. He took the chance to flip you over onto your back, and take control. He pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping and the headboard rutting into the wall filling the room. You heard Daryl growl and you let out a loud and filthy moan, feeling embarrassed you were quick to slap your hand over your mouth, until Daryl grabs your wrist, and puts it above your head.

“Wanna hear ya.” He whispered, his voice gravelly. He loved the sounds you’d make, especially knowing that you were making those noises because of him. He continued to fuck you into your mattress, having one hand pinning down yours, and the other on your hip. With your other free hand, you found it roaming up into his hair. His hand gripping your hip quickly moved under your thigh, lifting your leg above his shoulder and adjusting his position. He thrusted into you, hitting your sweet spot and going at a relentless pace. You whimpered and proceeded to tug on his locks, pulling it.

And that’s when he let out a whine.

You could feel your core tightening, knowing that you were close. “D-daryl.. Please don't stop.” Waves of pleasure were rushing through you, and his scent filling your nostrils.

“Ain’t gunna.” He then leaned into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites up and then down to your breasts. You could hear his accent begin to grow thicker, That's how you knew he was approaching his release as well.

You were head empty, feeling your walls tightening around his cock and clit brushing against him. You were both laced with sweat while also letting out gasps and whimpers. He knew your body so well, and knew all the right things just to tip you over the edge. Daryl was also incredibly gentle with you, this wasn’t just fucking this was love-making.

“Daryl.. Im gonna–” He interrupted you with a sloppy kiss, when he pulled away there was a string of saliva still connecting the both of you. He used his tongue to lick up from your chest to your neck, the feeling of his wet mouth against your skin, it sent shivers down your spine, and that’s when you couldn’t anymore. You gasped as you reached your peak, the knot in your tummy finally unraveling. He rode out your high, pounding into you a couple more times before he pulled out and came onto your belly, letting out a low groan and making a mess out of you.

He collapsed right beside you, the two of you were both a panting mess.

With both of you still slowly recovering, he moves to look towards you and uses his thumb and index finger to raise your chin. “Ya feelin’ better sunshine?” His little nickname for you forever gave you butterflies.

“Mhm! I think im due for another shower though...” You attempt to move, feeling Daryl’s warm serum drip down from your tummy to your legs.

“I’ll join ya.” He says, as he helps you up and directs you both to your bathroom.

Divider credits: anitalenia 🦋

[riality-check]

TW: past verbal and emotional abuse

The Harrington house is a game of perfection.

Steve has known this fact for as long as he can remember. There is a right way, a narrow way, a rigid way, of doing things. Numbers dictate all: rebounds, points, and assists for basketball, new PRs in freestyle and backstroke for swim. The numbers themselves do not matter; all that does is that they grow and shrink appropriately.

Infinite growth is not sustainable; not for Steve's stats, not for Richard's stocks. Both of them strive for it anyway.

The house must be clean. The parties can't be busted. The people of Hawkins will only say good things about the Harrington family. Gloria strives for these things, day in and day out.

The Harrington house is also a game of Perfection.

Steve hated that game growing up. The one with the little yellow pieces and the blue board. He was never able to get all the pieces in the right spot before the board spit them all back out.

It made a ticking noise, like a time bomb. Steve doesn't know when he started associating that sound with his parents.

It fits. It fits almost too well. They're fine, at least for a little while. The ticking starts quiet, then grows louder and louder until everything blows up.

The thing is, in Perfection, that the board blows up even if you put all the pieces in the right spots in time. The thing is, in the Harrington house, that everything blows up even if Steve does everything right.

The ticking lasts for days sometimes, weeks others. It's impossible, random, and impossibly random.

The only consistent thing is the board blowing up. And when that happens, so does the shouting.

The Party thinks that Tommy and Carol taught Steve to be cruel. That they're the ones who taught him how to bare his fangs and spit venom. That once he left them, the rage left him.

He's okay with letting them think that. It's easier than explaining that Richard and Gloria are the ones who taught him how to snap and shout, how to tear holes in other people with a few well-spoken barbs.

When Steve thinks of his parents, he thinks of fighting. He thinks of his father calling him useless and his mother calling him an idiot. He thinks of his mother calling his father dirt and his father calling his mother a bitch.

There are never any apologies. "I'm sorry" is never said in the Harrington house, even when the board gets reset.

They say "I got you pizza for dinner." "I saw this at the store and thought of you." "Do you want to come with me to get gas?"

And with that, the ticking starts up again.

Horrible things are said when the board blows up. Steve says horrible things when the board blows up. He's called his father an asshole and his mother self-absorbed and apologized without any apology at all.

He cleaned the pool instead.

Steve doesn't want to the board to blow up in the middle of the Munson trailer. It's why he's keeping his mouth shut while Eddie yells at him.

"What the hell, Stevie?" Eddie shouts, arms flying. "I told you that you can’t do that!"

“You told me you don’t want me to,” Steve says, staying calm and measured.

Calm and measured. Not blowing up. Steve isn’t going to snap or shout or bitch. He isn’t.

“Fucking semantics!”

“They were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” Eddie roars. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me!”

It’s true. Wayne calls Eddie “Teflon,” says that nothing sticks to him, least of all anyone’s opinion. Steve knows that Eddie doesn’t care about what most people in Hawkins think about him.

But he cares very much about what the people who care about him think.

Steve can say a whole lot of things right now. He’s angry, physically biting his tongue to ground himself. He can say a whole lot of things to cut Eddie to the bone, to end the argument and then some.

But he won’t.

Love is knowing how to hurt someone and choosing not to. It’s using a knife to split an apple to share instead of to cut skin to ribbons.

Steve can’t trust himself not to slash Eddie open. He says awful things when everything goes to hell like this, snaps back hard when snapped at first, operates purely on instinct.

He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I care that you could have gotten hurt when you swung at those assholes,” Eddie continues. “I care that I wasn’t there with you when you defended yourself. I care that you won’t let me take a look at your hands and make sure they’re alright.”

Steve squeezes the knuckles of this right hand in his left. It stings, but he’s fine. Nothing broken. He knows from experience

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” Eddie barks.

Steve lets go of his hands, lets them hang loosely at his sides.

“So, what the hell, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still loud, still snappish.

A variety of terrible answers surges to the front of Steve’s mind. Eddie’s biggest insecurities, the things he’s only told Steve when he thought he was asleep. Ways to wipe the anger off his face and replace it with stuff easier to manage: shock, hurt, sadness. Things he would say if he didn’t particularly like Eddie, if he were still in high school, if he were still in his parents’ house.

Steve doesn’t say anything. He keeps the knife in its drawer. He closes his eyes tight and breathes in once, then again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer.

Steve opens his eyes to find him a step closer, hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

Oh.

Well.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s said it before. Of course he has. He knows the words, knows that he needed to say them to Dustin and Robin and Max, and he has. He’s stepped too far with jokes and forgot about some things and missed some things they’ve said.

But he’s never yelled at them. They’ve never yelled at him.

This is not how this is supposed to go. Eddie isn’t supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to clean Steve up or make him dinner or invite him along to go grocery shopping.

And Steve was supposed to snap back.

“It’s okay,” he says because that’s what he’s supposed to say, yeah?

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen.”

Eddie stares at him, big doe eyes shining, like he has five heads. It makes Steve want to put his bloody hands behind his back, make him shrink.

He swears he can hear ticking, but the board just reset. Didn’t it?

“What?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I got scared, but that doesn’t mean I get to yell at you. That’s not okay.”

What does Eddie get to do, if not yell?

I deserve it, Steve thinks, but he’s smart enough to know that saying that out loud will just lead to another fight.

There’s been barely any time to put the pieces back.

Steve doesn’t get it. But, he figures he’s always been a little slow on the uptake, so he can watch. Observe. Figure it out later on his own. He’s pretty good at that.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he holds his hands out for Eddie to take.

He’s dragged along to the sink, where Eddie rinses the cuts out with cool water before bandaging them up with the remnants of a box of Band-Aids from the bathroom. When they’re dry and finished, he presses a kiss to each knuckle, feather light.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at Steve very seriously.

“Me, too,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

It feels good to say. It feels good to mean.

Standing there in the kitchen of a trailer in Forest Hills, looking at the mismatched furniture and half-full ashtrays of the living room, holding hands with his boyfriend formerly accused of murder and apologizing for the first time and meaning it, Steve feels like he can finally breathe.

The ticking has finally stopped, and silence sounds so sweet.

[morganbritton132]

Sometimes I think about what season 4 would’ve been like if instead of introducing Jason and Chrissy, they used two already established characters for those roles. Like Tommy and Carol, for example.

You don’t even have to change much with Eddie or the basketball team, just have Carol be the one buying drugs and have Tommy be the assistant coach on the basketball team or something.

It’d add a layer to Lucas’ story because then he’s not just struggling with peer pressure but also with an authority figure that we’ve already seen be aggressive. I think it adds more weight to Steve helping to clear Eddie’s name because Carol was his friend.

I also think there’s something very interesting about a town mob hunting down and demonizing Eddie, a character whose biggest sin was being different, in the honor of a canonical bully.

[vermilionsun]

This post translates directly to @musas-sideblog's about how Touchstarved ties with Victorian horror and implicit/metaphorical sex, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so here is a lengthy theory. Enjoy :)

Note 1: Victorian era authors used an unholy amount of ways to imply sexual feelings/acts etc, so I here I will include only the ones that are of interest. Note 2: I've highlighted the "most important" parts. Note 3: I'm not an expert at this, so please bear with me and feel free to correct me. Note 4: Do I need to add a TW? I think it's obvious-

Overview: What is Victorian Horror?

Victorian horror refers to the genre of horror literature, art, and culture that flourished during the Victorian era, roughly from the mid-19th century to the early 20th century, coinciding with Queen Victoria's reign from 1837 to 1901. This period was marked by a fascination with the macabre, the supernatural, and the dark aspects of human nature, reflecting the anxieties and societal changes of the time. 

Key Themes and Characteristics

Supernatural Elements:

Ghosts and Spirits: Tales of haunted houses and spectral apparitions were central to Victorian horror. Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol" (1843) and Henry James's "The Turn of the Screw" (1898) are notable examples.

Monsters and the Gothic: The era's literature is filled with monstrous creations and gothic settings, such as in Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" (1818), Bram Stoker's "Dracula" (1897), and Robert Louis Stevenson's "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" (1886).

Science and the Unknown:

The Victorian period was a time of great scientific advancement, but also of fear about the implications of these discoveries. This is evident in works that explore the dangers of unchecked scientific experimentation, like "Frankenstein" and H.G. Wells's "The Island of Doctor Moreau" (1896).

Exploration of the Human Psyche:

Victorian horror often delved into the darker aspects of the human mind, including themes of duality, madness, and the hidden, sinister side of human nature. This is seen in "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" and Edgar Allan Poe’s works, such as "The Tell-Tale Heart" (1843).

Social and Moral Anxieties:

The literature frequently reflected Victorian society's fears and anxieties, including issues related to sexuality, class, and the role of women. Gothic novels often contained subtexts about societal norms and the consequences of transgressing them.

Urban Fear and Isolation:

The rapid urbanisation of the Victorian era contributed to themes of isolation, alienation, and fear of the crowded yet lonely cityscape. This is evident in the settings of many horror stories, such as Arthur Machen's "The Great God Pan" (1894).

Sexual Content: Victorian literature is renowned for its strict moral codes and conservative views on sexuality. Explicit depictions of sexual activity were considered taboo and were subject to censorship. Consequently, authors developed subtle and nuanced methods to imply sexual scenes or themes.

Literary Techniques for Implying Sexual Scenes

✧ Symbolism and Imagery:

Sexuality was often conveyed through symbolic imagery. Objects, actions, or natural phenomena could serve as metaphors for sexual activity or desire. For example, in "Dracula" by Bram Stoker, blood and biting symbolise sexual penetration and the exchange of bodily fluids, infusing the act with a sense of forbidden desire and eroticism.

Clothing and Undress:

Gloves: In Victorian culture, gloves were highly symbolic. The act of a woman removing her gloves in the presence of a man, or a man assisting her in this act, could signify a moment of intimacy or vulnerability. Similarly, a man giving a woman his gloves could be a sign of affection or a deeper connection.

Hats and Bonnets:

Corsets

Objects and Personal Items:

Locks of Hair

Jewellery

Books and Letters

Touch and Physical Contact:

Kissing Hands

Hand-Holding

Food and Drink:

Wine: Sharing wine or a meal in an intimate setting often suggested a prelude to deeper connection. Descriptions of characters drinking wine together in private could imply a romantic or sexual undertone.

Fruit: Certain fruits, like apples, grapes, or peaches, were laden with sexual symbolism. Eating or sharing fruit could represent temptation or indulgence. For instance, in Christina Rossetti’s poem "Goblin Market", the act of eating the goblin fruit is rich with sexual symbolism.

Flora and Fauna

Flowers and Gardens:

Roses: Roses were often used to symbolise love and passion. A red rose might suggest romantic or sexual attraction, while a wilted rose could imply lost innocence or sexual ruin.

Lilies: Lilies, especially white ones, represented purity but could also suggest a contrasting theme when associated with a fallen or tarnished character.

Garden Settings: Scenes set in secluded gardens or amongst lush, overgrown vegetation often hinted at secret or forbidden encounters. Descriptions of characters wandering through or tending to gardens could imply sexual exploration or awakening.

Flowers Blooming or Opening:  The blooming of flowers often represented sexual awakening or the act of losing one's virginity.

Nature Imagery:

Rivers and Water: Flowing water and rivers often symbolised sexual desire and the act of lovemaking. For instance, in "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" by Thomas Hardy, Tess's encounter with Alec d'Urberville is often described with metaphors of nature and fluidity.

Storms and Weather: Storms, with their intense energy and sudden outbursts, were frequently used to symbolise sexual passion or climactic moments.

Birds and Beasts:

Animals, especially those that are wild or predatory, often symbolised primal sexual instincts and desires. The taming or interaction with these animals could imply a character’s grappling with their own sexuality.

Fire and Heat

✧ Phrases and Sayings

Euphemistic Language

Descriptive Phrasing

Dialogue and Confessions

Private Spaces:

Secluded or Dimly Lit Rooms: Scenes set in private, darkened rooms often suggested clandestine sexual encounters. The privacy of the setting allows authors to imply what could not be explicitly stated. In Wilkie Collins’s "The Woman in White", many key interactions happen in secluded spaces, hinting at secrets and hidden desires.

Dreams and Fantasies:

Dream Sequences:

Dreams and fantasies were used to explore a character’s subconscious desires and fears, often revealing their suppressed sexual longings. These sequences provided a socially acceptable way to delve into erotic themes.

Hallucinations and Madness:

Moments of madness or hallucination could serve as a metaphor for overwhelming passion or uncontrollable sexual desire. These states allowed characters to express forbidden feelings in a way that was metaphorically safe.

Physical Interactions and Horror

Touch and Proximity as Menace:

Unwanted or Forced Touch: In horror, touch that is typically a sign of affection or intimacy becomes a source of fear.

Physical Closeness in Horror Settings: Close proximity in dark, secluded places amplifies the sense of claustrophobia and vulnerability, turning what could be an intimate setting into one fraught with terror.

Undress and Exposure in Horror:

Loosening Corsets and Vulnerability: The act of undressing or loosening clothing, which can be a prelude to intimacy, in horror often leaves characters vulnerable to attack or exposure of their deepest fears.

Food and Consumption in Horror

Cannibalism and Vampirism:

Blood as Sexual and Vital Fluid: The act of consuming blood, as in vampirism, blends the themes of sustenance and sexual exchange. The vampire's bite becomes a metaphor for both sexual penetration and the transfer of life force.

Example: "Dracula" is a prime example where blood consumption is deeply eroticized, with Dracula’s victims often portrayed in a state of ecstatic submission as he drains their blood.

Food as a Lure: Food and feasting, typically symbols of pleasure and indulgence, in horror contexts can be used to lure victims into dangerous situations.

Example: In "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti, the goblins’ fruit is both irresistibly tempting and dangerous, representing a forbidden and potentially fatal indulgence.

Plot and Character Dynamics in Horror

Power and Domination:

Common Dynamics with a Dark Twist

Predators and Victims: Characters who prey on others are often literal monsters in horror, representing the loss of control or innocence.

Secrecy and Concealment:

Hidden Desires and Monstrous Revelations: Characters who conceal their true identities or desires often find these hidden aspects manifesting as monstrous or terrifying in horror narratives, suggesting that repression can lead to dire consequences.

Clandestine Meetings and Forbidden Encounters: Secret meetings and forbidden relationships, often tinged with sexual implications, add an element of danger and fear, suggesting that transgressing social norms leads to horror.

Common Themes in Victorian Horror

Duality and the Doppelgänger:

Theme: The concept of duality, where a character has a hidden, darker side, or encounters a double (doppelgänger), often symbolises the internal conflict between good and evil within individuals.

Connection: This theme reflects Victorian anxieties about identity, morality, and the consequences of repressing one’s darker impulses.

Gothic and Supernatural Elements:

Theme: Victorian horror is rich with Gothic elements such as haunted houses, dark landscapes, and supernatural beings. These elements create a sense of dread and evoke the mysteries of the unknown.

Connection: The Gothic setting often serves as a backdrop for exploring human fears, isolation, and the impact of the supernatural on everyday life.

Decay and Degeneration:

Theme: The fear of decay and degeneration, both physical and moral, is a recurring motif. This theme often examines the decline of individuals, families, or societies and the consequences of corruption and vice.

Connection: This theme mirrors Victorian concerns about the erosion of social and moral values amidst rapid industrial and social changes.

Madness and Psychological Horror:

Theme: The exploration of madness and psychological horror delves into the fragility of the human mind and the terror of losing one's sanity. This often includes hallucinations, obsessions, and the thin line between reality and delusion.

Connection: This theme resonates with Victorian fears of mental illness, the limitations of medical knowledge, and the impact of societal pressures on mental health.

Forbidden Knowledge and the Faustian Bargain:

Theme: The pursuit of forbidden knowledge and the resulting consequences is a central theme. Characters who seek power, immortality, or forbidden truths often pay a heavy price, reminiscent of the Faustian bargain.

Connection: This theme highlights Victorian anxieties about scientific progress, moral boundaries, and the potential hubris of human ambition.

The Uncanny and the Unknown:

Theme: The uncanny involves the strange and unfamiliar becoming eerily familiar, often unsettling the reader and characters. It blurs the lines between reality and the supernatural, invoking fear and discomfort.

Connection: This theme taps into Victorian fears of the unknown, the foreign, and the otherworldly, reflecting broader anxieties about social and cultural boundaries.

Death and the Afterlife:

Theme: Victorian horror frequently grapples with themes of death and the afterlife, exploring the fear of mortality, the possibility of an afterlife, and encounters with the dead or undead.

Connection: These themes reflect Victorian preoccupations with death, the spiritual realm, and the possibility of life beyond death, often intensified by the era's high mortality rates and interest in spiritualism.

Isolation and Alienation:

Theme: Isolation and alienation are prevalent themes, often highlighting characters who are physically or emotionally detached from society, leading to their vulnerability and descent into despair or madness.

Connection: This theme resonates with the Victorian experience of industrialization and urbanization, which often led to feelings of disconnection and loneliness.

Class and Social Anxiety:

Theme: Victorian horror often explores themes of class and social anxiety, including the fear of losing social status, the consequences of poverty, and the tension between different social classes.

Connection: This theme reflects the rigid class structures of Victorian society and the fears and tensions that arose from social mobility and economic disparity.

Moral Corruption and Hypocrisy:

Theme: Victorian horror frequently critiques the era’s moral standards and exposes the hypocrisy of societal norms. Characters who appear virtuous often harbor dark secrets or engage in morally dubious activities.

Connection: This theme mirrors the Victorian concern with appearances and the underlying tension between public propriety and private desires.

The Five Pillars of Victorian Horror & The Five Love Interests

The Supernatural and the Gothic (Ais)

Essence: Victorian horror often revolves around the supernatural, blending Gothic elements to evoke a sense of dread and otherworldly terror. This includes ghosts, vampires, haunted houses, and curses, which create an atmosphere where the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural blur.

Impact: The use of Gothic settings and supernatural phenomena provides a backdrop for exploring deeper themes of fear, mortality, and the unknown.

Psychological Depth and Madness (Vere)

Essence: Victorian horror delves into the complexities of the human mind, exploring themes of madness, obsession, and the psychological effects of fear and trauma. Characters often grapple with their sanity, facing inner demons as terrifying as any external threat.

Impact: This focus on psychological horror allows for a deeper exploration of character motivations and the impact of societal pressures.

Moral Corruption and the Double Life (Leander)

Essence: Themes of moral corruption and the duality of human nature are central to Victorian horror. Characters often lead double lives, presenting a veneer of respectability while concealing dark, sinful secrets. This tension between outward appearances and hidden truths reflects the era’s social hypocrisy and fear of scandal.

Impact: These themes critique Victorian society’s emphasis on propriety and the dangerous consequences of repressing one’s true nature. The idea of a double life or hidden self adds to the horror by suggesting that evil can reside within anyone, masked by a facade of normalcy.

Decay, Degeneration, and Disease (Kuras)

Essence: The themes of physical and moral decay, societal degeneration, and disease permeate Victorian horror. These motifs symbolise the fragility of human life and the inevitability of decline, reflecting the anxieties of a society grappling with rapid change and uncertain futures.

Impact: By focusing on decay and degeneration, Victorian horror underscores the transient nature of life and the ever-present threat of corruption and decline, whether through ageing, moral compromise, or societal breakdown.

Isolation and Alienation (Mhin)

Essence: Isolation and alienation are pervasive themes in Victorian horror, often depicted through characters who are physically or emotionally cut off from society. This separation heightens their vulnerability to external threats and internal fears.

Impact: Isolation serves to intensify the psychological tension and sense of dread, as characters confront their fears alone. It also reflects the era’s social and existential anxieties, including the fear of being disconnected or outcast from society.

Generally, I believe each LI connects with a pillair (as seen above). Perhaps by looking at the archetypes we could deduce propable endings and route elements.

Forgive me, for the following part is MESSY;

Ais

Vere

Leander

Kuras

Mhin

[crybabyddl]

Check You Out

Modern!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: swearing, flirtation alcohol, older guy being slightly creepy, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, fake dating, modern setting

Author's Note: God, I need Steve at a despicable, ungodly level that even I can't fully comprehend. It's not healthy. But to cope with that, I'm gonna write this and hope that someone else out there can appreciate and/or relate to being so desperately in love with a fictional character that you can't have. And yes, I looked up an Indiana sales tax calculator in order to write this as realistically as possible.

Extra Author's Note: Hi. It's been ages since I've written anything, let alone a whole first chapter of a fic! I probably won't update often, but who knows? Maybe this will end up being a full-fledged fic! I like the idea of that, but let's see how posting this chapter goes. I hope you like it! <3 Glad to be back! :)

—

   For the past year, your Friday nights consisted of checking out customers' groceries and helping clueless individuals operate the self-checkout machines. You'd think with a name like 'self-checkout' there'd be no need for assistance, but people are dumb and selective about when to use their reading comprehension skills--if they possessed any in the first place. Working the night shift wasn't ideal, but it was the only time that allowed you to take care of your parents and drive one of their cars while you lived under their roof. Unfortunately, you had to walk to work today because your dad was out of town this week and your mom's car was in the shop.

    "Attention shoppers, the store will be closing in ten minutes. Please make your way to the registers to complete your purchase. Thank you for shopping at Green Leaf Market!" The overly chipper tone of your supervisor, Carol's voice was far less unsettling when it meant that you were almost done with your shift. Now you just had to wait for all the last minute shoppers, lollygaggers, and stragglers to get their shit together and get the heck out.

  "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

 Oh brother... you thought. Mitchell was a regular on Fridays, but he was also a bit of a douche. He was in his mid-40s and was seemingly trying to grow a beer gut. It was no surprise that he was buying another 24-pack of Busch Lite. 

    "I'm alright, thanks Mitchell. How are you?" You plastered on the best customer service smile you could muster, taking hold of the reusable shopping bag he always brought with him, regardless of the fact he never needed it.

  "Better now that I've seen you, dollface."

   Dollface? That was a new one, and definitely the worst yet. You tried your best to ignore the embarrassment that caused your face to heat up, but you had a hard time pretending not to be bothered by his comment.

   You moved the fruit-and-vegetable-patterned vessel over to the other side of the register before grabbing the scanning wand and reading the barcode on the hefty cardboard box. He knew the drill, handing you his I.D. for you to scan. The glass bottles clinked as Mitchell lowered the box back into his shopping cart. God, you could go for a beer right about now.

    "That'll be $25.67. Would you like your receipt?"

  "Only if your phone number's on it, honey." Yikes.

    "O-kay, you're all set. Have a great night!"

  "You need a ride home? It's not safe to be walking alone out there this late. Maybe you could keep me company and have a few beers? You seem lonely."

   Nothing Mitchell was saying was particularly wrong, but he certainly wasn't reading the room correctly. He'd also tried this countless times before with no success, so why was he still trying? What were you supposed to say that would make him get the hint?

    "Um-"

  "Hey, uh, Y/N! I just wanted to grab a few beers. You almost ready to get out of here?"

   In that moment, the stranger's interjection was the closest thing you'd heard to a choir of angels.

    "Y-yeah,"

   Mitchell grumbled something under his breath as he snatched up the bag and pushed his cart toward the exit. You felt your shoulders relax as you exhaled a heavier sigh than you expected to be holding in.

    "Oh my God, thank you for saving my ass back there." You lifted the six pack of Blue Moon off the conveyer belt and hovered it over the scanner. 

  "No problem. Sorry if I caught you off guard. I take it he's a regular that thinks he can pull someone half his age?" He takes his wallet out of his back pocket, fishing for his I.D.

    "You nailed it. Mitchell's probably harmless, but I'm not really interested in finding out. And no worries, you're good." You take the driver's license from between the man's fingers, inspecting it quickly.

   Stephen Harrington. Born August 12th. 5'10". Brown hair, brown eyes. You looked up and sure enough, his hair and his eyes--they were pretty--were brown.

  "I don't blame you," Steven put his license back in his wallet before taking out his card. "How much was it?"

    "Oh shoot, I never actually never told you, my bad. It comes out to $11.76," You selected the EFT payment option on your register and waited for Steven to tap his card on the reader. "How did you know my name?"

  "It's on your name tag," He inserted his card in the chip reader. "I'm Steve, by the way." The reader made an unhappy trio of beeping sounds.

    "Nice to meet you, Steve," you smiled. Probably the first genuine one of the night. "You might have to tap it. These machines are a pain in the ass."

  "Tap?" Steve tilted his head in confusion, which you found... cute.

    "Yeah. You just hold your card against the reader and it scans it. I'm not entirely sure how it works, but I think it has to do with the chip or something."

  "I see, I see. Like this?" He holds the card above the number pad, but nothing happens.

    "Almost! You have to hold it over the screen part, like this."

   Without thinking, you grab a hold of Steve's debit card, bringing his arm closer to the screen of the card reader. The machine makes a blip noise and the receipt begins printing in a matter of seconds. It's only after you hand him the receipt that you realize you might've invaded his personal space. Should you apologize? Did he even notice? Why did you choose to work at the supermarket?

    "Thank you, Y/N. I should get going, but uh," Steve pauses, looking unsure. "Are you doing anything right now? Would it be wrong of me to ask you if you wanted to come back to mine and have a couple beers? I'm having a few friends over and you seem pretty chill. Totally okay if not, just figured I'd ask, you know?"

   The cute stranger that saved you from Mitchell was asking you to hang out... maybe he really is an angel.

   This was totally different than having a married man with kids ask you if you wanted to have a couple drinks; this was a guy your age, a hot guy your age. The internal panic of saying the wrong thing subsided thanks to the amount of excitement you felt.

    "I would love that. Let me just get my bag and clock out."

  "Sounds good, I'll go put this in the car and pull up." He gives a smile, which you return along with an unnecessary thumbs up.

    "Okay." You watched as Steve exited the store, six-pack in hand.

    What person in their 20s gives a cute guy a thumbs up? You wanted to smack your palm against your forehead, but refrained. You were an idiot. Speaking of thumbs, you were surely going to stick out like a sore one if Steve's friends were even a fraction as cool--or attractive--as he was. You realized you were getting ahead of yourself as you punched your code into the time clock. You were just going to be hanging out and having drinks with some nice people your age. Nothing more, nothing less. 

   After mentally talking yourself down, you walked through the automatic doors of Green Leaf Market feeling the humid summer air hit your skin in a calm wave. Sure enough, right out front, there was a beige BMW sedan with the passenger window rolled down. Steve aims a finger gun at you and clacks his tongue against his teeth. You see his eyes flit towards the offending right appendage, his cool demeanor faltering for a split second. However, he quickly recovers from whatever shyness he might've felt, leading you to wonder if you'd imagined it as you open the passenger door and join him in the air-conditioned car.

—

please leave a like, reblog, and/or a comment if you enjoyed!

[siancore]

Pockets of Peaceful Bliss

A little glimpse into small pre-canon moments between Rick and Michonne at the Prison. Based on this post by @myobsessionsspace

There was a lot to figure out after the run to King County, the reunion with Morgan, and finding a new and tentative balance with Michonne. Rick found himself wanting to seek her out, so he did. He found her where the guns they had secured were being cleaned, checked, and loaded. She was in the main communal space helping the other survivors. Rick entered the room and walked around inspecting the weapons – offering assistance when needed – but always his gaze found Michonne.   

He watched as she cleaned and oiled one of the handguns, loaded its clip, and placed it aside. She was so studious in the work that she was doing. So focused on the task at hand. So willing to fight for Rick and his people. To earn her place amongst them. Carl had made the call: She was one of them. And Rick was relieved by that call, not that he understood why.   

After Carol, Maggie, and a few others had finished what they were doing and left the space, Rick watched to make sure he and Michonne were alone before approaching her.  

“How’re they lookin’?” Rick asked, gesturing toward the row of handguns Michonne had prepared.   

“They’re good,” she replied, lifting her gaze to meet Rick’s eyes. “They’ll get the job done.”  

Rick nodded his head and Michonne mirrored the action before she moved to walk away.  

“Michonne,” he said quietly, causing her to stop in her tracks. “I just wanted to thank you again for today.”  

She shrugged her shoulder, shook her head, and said, “You don’t have to thank me. Any one of us would’ve went on that run with you.”  

Rick placed a hand to his hip and shifted his weight to the corresponding leg as he gestured with the other.   

“Yeah,” he drawled. “But not just anyone would’ve been patient with Carl like that. Taking him to get the crib.”  

“It was nothing, really,” she tried to brush off.  

“And to go get that photo for him,” said Rick, as he averted his gaze a moment. “For Judith.”  

A beat of silence passed between the pair before Rick said, “Thank you for that. It means a lot to Carl. Means a lot to me.”  

He gave Michonne a small, sad smile which she returned.   

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly.   

They stood there then, staring at one another, not knowing what else to say, but not really wanting to move away from the other. After a minute, Rick spoke once more.   

“Carl also mentioned you found a cat statue,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up into a little amused grin.   

Michonne smiled as well and said, “Oh yeah, the cat sculpture. It’s gorgeous. Thought if I was gonna stick around for a while, I might as well find something other than Merle’s shining personality to brighten this place up.”  

Rick nodded his head and huffed out an amused laugh. That felt odd to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had laughed and meant it. He held her gaze and marveled at how a small smile lit her whole face up. He wondered what it would look like if she beamed brightly at him.   

Rick shook the thought from his mind and then said, “I hope there’ll be much of a place left here after we fight this war.”  

Michonne’s smile faded away and a staunch expression covered her face.  

“There will be something left here,” she said firmly, unequivocally. “We’ll make sure of it.”  

With that, she gave Rick another certain look and a nod of her head, before walking away and leaving him standing there. The exchange between them was so fleeting, but it was exactly what Rick needed, even if, at that moment, he did not understand why.  

It was turning into a long night. Rick had just put Judith down to sleep for the evening after she had had a restless time. It was late when he finally got her settled. After he was satisfied that the small girl was finally sleeping soundly, Rick then went to check on Carl who looked like he was not ready for bed. The younger Grimes had a flashlight in hand while reading.  

“What’s goin’ on?” asked Rick, startling his son somewhat. “Shouldn’t you be sleepin’? Thought you finished reading a while ago.”  

“I was just gonna go give these to Michonne,” said Carl as he held up the stack of comic books. The ones Michonne had asked to read after he was done with them.   

“I think it’s time for you to switch off the flashlight and get some sleep,” he said with no real chastisement to his tone. “It’s late, and I ain’t dealing with two grumpy kids in the morning.”  

“But what about the comic books for Michonne?” Carl asked right away.  

“You can give ‘em to her tomorrow,” Rick replied. “Lights off, please.”  

“Okay. Goodnight, dad.”  

“Night, son.”  

...  

Rick smiled to himself as he went to the communal kitchen to clean Judith’s bottle. Carl really cared about Michonne, and she cared for Carl. Watching them become closer was really nice. They were building a nice life at the Prison. Judith was healthy and growing, Carl was finding his way. Rick continued his musings until he found Michonne in the kitchen nursing a warm cup of milk.   

“Hey,” said Rick, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.   

“Hey,” she replied with that small smile Rick had begun to seek out. “Finally got Judith down for the night?”  

“Yeah,” Rick replied as he filled the bottle with hot water. “Finally. I also found Carl up still reading those comic books you brought him.”  

Michonne’s smile widened at that news and Rick wanted to draw the moment out longer. He soaked the bottle in a plastic container and then took up a seat at the small round table Michonne was sitting at.   

“You like that, uh?” he asked playfully. “That I’m probably gonna have to deal with two sleep-deprived, grouchy kids tomorrow?”  

Michonne let out a little laugh and it sounded like a sweet song to Rick’s ears.   

“No, of course not,” she proffered with her hands raised. “I just love that Carl’s really enjoying the comics. It’s good to see him being a kid.”  

Rick smiled and bit his bottom lip.   

“Yeah,” he replied. “It is. Thank you for that.”  “I didn’t do anything,” she replied.  

“You brought him the books,” said Rick softly. “That helps. You’re always helping and doing nice things you don’t have to do.”  

“Yeah, well, Carl’s a good kid,” said Michonne with an adoring little smile. “He deserves it.”  

Rick nodded his head and then grew contemplative for a moment.   

“And it’s not just the stuff you do for Carl,” Rick added. “It’s what you do for everyone here at the Prison. You’re always the first one to put your hand up to go on runs. Always making sure the safety of the people here comes first. Always sharing your skills. You’re just so good – thank you.”  

Michonne’s face was awash with something Rick had never seen before: Something akin to shyness.  

“Well, it’s what you do when you care about people,” she said softly. “When you care about someone.”  

The pair sat staring at one another for a stretch and Rick could see it. The moment of vulnerability in Michonne. He didn’t want her to withdraw, so he spoke up in an attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. And I gotta admit, even though the comics are keepin’ Carl up after bedtime, you’re really good at gift-giving,” said Rick, before running his hand over his face. “You brought me the clippers, so.”  

Michonne smiled at that as the weight of their little moment dissipated in the late-night air.  

“Yes, and I see you haven’t used them yet,” Michonne teased, causing Rick to let out a little laugh.  

“True,” he said, padding his palm against his facial hair once more. “I think it kinda suits me, though.”  

Michonne let her eyes roam over Rick’s face as she gave him an appraising look.  

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I think so, too.”  

When Rick finally went to bed that night, he closed his eyes and pictured Michonne’s pretty smile. It was the first time in a long time that his dreams were not plagued with blood and wailing. It was nice, he mused in the forgiving morning light. Nice to have the small moments with Michonne. Nice to share in those little pockets of peaceful bliss.  

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part| Chapter 19

Chapter 18 Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 19: After all this time?

Summary: Hershel is recovering and you need to apologize to people that you hurt, even who you never thought you’d hurt.

Warnings: language, mentions of kink, mentions of possible naked people. 18+ MINORS PLEASE DON’T INTERACT.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s sister)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Not proof read. Just a small chapter cause reader needs to do things right after she made a mess.

Shouts. Shoots. Walkers. Long corridors. An unconscious Hershel in a cart. It was all flashes while you ran for Hershel’s life. When you realized the men were carrying him to his cell and you ran behind them to continue treating Hershel. Questions all around on what happened and you couldn’t answer none of them, the words just didn’t come out.

You and Carol kept stemming the blood. You thought about cauterizing it, but wasn’t very sure of it, so you followed what Carol said. It was heartbreaking, but she knew more about stemming human blood than you. “You were right, we shouldn’t have taken him with us.” Maggie cried in the cell hugging Beth.

You sighed, that was your fault. You let out your anger from Daryl on them. “I wasn’t Maggs. He should be allowed to do whatever he wanted to. I was just being an asshole. I’m sorry, it wasn’t your fault.”

Suddenly Carl appeared with a bag of medical supplies. You were impressed the things he found would be of help to Hershel. “Thanks Carl, it’ll be of help. You did a great job.” You said.

“It looks like the 12 year-old knows how to hand himself.” Carl bitterly said and here you knew you had screwed bad, he heard what you said and even though it was true, the last thing you thought you’d do in your life was hurting Carl.

“Carl, I…” you started to say, but before you could complete the sentence he left the cell.

You breath deeply, fuck… you needed to talk to him, apologize… but you couldn’t leave Hershel. What if something happened to him? What if he needed your assistance?

“Go talk to him. I’ll keep an eye on Hershel. There isn’t much we can do right now. You know it.” Carol told you, she saw how it was eating you alive not to talk with Carl and at the same time the need to protect Hershel.

“Thanks…” You exchanged a look with the woman and it thanked her even more than your words could.

You got up and left the cell to look for Carl. He was having a hard time having to grow up in this fucked up world, and that was scarily molding his personality. The last thing you wanted was for him to not feel safe and happy with you anymore. He was your nephew, he would always be the baby you carried so many years ago. You ended up finding him on the second floor sitting on the platform, his legs hanging in the air, his arms and face resting on the bars.

You sat by his side silently, he noticed your presence but said nothing. He also didn’t move or try to leave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t totally mean what I said earlier.” You told the boy.

“But you meant some of it.” That was his answer.

“Yes, because you weren’t supposed to be responsible to protect any of us. In the old world you’d never do that…”

“The old world doesn’t exist anymore.” Carl answered, he wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t less worrying.

“I know.” You answered, and thought a lot more before speaking again. “Adults are stupid. I was angry at Daryl and I let it out on everyone. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want me to kick his balls?” You almost chocked on your spit.

“Carl, language!” You disciplined him. “And, no!”

“No one gave me good examples in the last months.” He side eyed you and you tried to contain the grin that was building on your face. “Daryl and you especially…”

“Tell any of these bad words next to your mom and I’m throwing you through the fence to feed the walkers.” You joked and elbowed him. He snorted, it was good to hear him laughing, it had been quite a time since last time you heard his laughter. “So… does it mean I’m forgiven?”

“I can’t be angry at the best aunt for too long…” he answered.

You side hugged him and kissed the top of his head. “Good, I didn’t lose the best aunt position. I was a little concerned…” you played, being forgiven by him was a great relief in such a crazy day.

Later that day Hershel woke up and was at that moment sleeping safe and sound on his cell, with the care of everyone, but mainly his beloved daughters. When the men got back from their mission helping the found prisoners take a block for themselves they told you everything that happened and how they had to put down some of them, now only Oscar and Axel being alive.

After everything was settled, Rick sent you and Daryl to one of the towers for watch duty. Just as if you were kids that needed to be punished for fighting each other. Once at the tower, you sat your back resting on the wall, legs stretched and a gun and the crossbow resting on it. Silence. A deafening silence.

“Did you sleep well?” You cleared your throat and asked.

“Nah, I can’t sleep well without ya.” He answered. “Did ya?”

You breathed deeply. “I had a nightmare. One of the bad ones.” You confessed, images of it coming back to your mind.

“Why didn’t ya come to me?” He knew why, but he couldn’t really control when the words left his mouth.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” Confessing it out aloud was a little embarrassing.

“I… after all this time?” It annoyed him a little, but he couldn’t blame you for this.

“The way you said it yesterday…” You said. “It looked like it.”

“That’s… Did I ever tell you that Merle already went to jail?” He asked and confessed at the same time. “Where I came from, nobody thought a single good thing about the Dixon’s. They knew my father was no good, Merle was no good… I wasn’t no good. They expected all the time that I’d end up imprisoned like my brother. I know it’s stupid, but I felt it would be true if I stayed in a cell.”

“That’s how you felt, that’s not stupid.” You reached for his hand taking a hold on it. “You could have told me.”

“I know. ‘M sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For being a bitch.” You looked at him, a small smile on your face. You felt so bad when you fought with him, it didn’t happen very often, but it always made both of you feel bad.

“Let’s never go sleep with things unsolved an’more” He was never one for many words, but you changed it, maybe for the others he was still the grumpy man that would speak more with his expressions than with words. But for you… he was learning how to speak, how to express… and for you he would make a speech if it meant you’d not have a mis understanding like this again. “If something like this happens… let’s find each other and solve things.”

“You got a deal, babe.” You squeezed his hand and then intertwined your fingers.

“Come ‘ere.” He pulled your hand towards him and you didn’t hesitate to put the guns aside and sit across his lap.

You put an arm around his neck and hide your face there, inhaling his scent… you could all be dirty from months on the road, but you couldn’t care less when it was about him, he was always the same, so manly… so… Daryl. “It was very difficult to refuse your hug today in the morning, you know?” You softly said.

“Was it?” He played, you for sure knew how it took a lot out of him to demonstrate things like this somewhere people could see.

“Yeah, and I appreciate it.” You kissed his cheek tenderly.

“Ya saved Hershel’s life today, ya were amazing.” He put a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“I was panicking…” You confessed, but you didn’t need to, he knew it.

“I know, and it’s still one of the hottest things ya’ve ever done.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, he always had the strangest ideas about what was hot. You killing walkers? Hot! You deciding to cut an old man’s leg to save his life? Hot!

“Does Daryl Dixon have a kink on doctors/nurses or something?” You teased him.

“Nah… I don’t got those things. I’ve got ya, ya’re my kink.” He pecked your lips.

“I like the outcome of it…” you pressed your lips against his starting a lazy lovely kiss. You were so glad everything was fine again. You were so glad you solved this misunderstanding.

“I’m going up! I hope you two are dressed!” Carol’s voice coming from the stairs startled you.

You parted from each other and you sat by his side again. “Of course we’re dressed Carol, why wouldn’t we be? We’re on watch duty.”

“Honey, if I’m saying it’s because there’s a reason, and I’d rather find both of you dressed.” Your friend said showing up at the corner of the tower with two plates. “We prepared some food, so I thought it would be a good idea to bring it to you two. We all had a tough day.”

“Thanks Carol.” Daryl took the plates from her hand, cheeks blushed thinking of al the reasons she had to check you were both dressed before finishing going up the tower.

In the middle of dawn Rick came to the tower to take your place, and of course certify you were all good again. You two went back to block C. You walked to your cell, thinking that Daryl was going to his mattress at the stairs. You entered the cell and turned around to see if he was there and was surprised to see him right in front of you.

“You don’t have to Dar…” you said and put your hand on his shoulders. “I understand now, if you want I can sleep outside with you.”

“I ain’t here out of obligation or something, I want to be here with ya. I know ya put a lot of effort at cleaning it.” He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs while his big hands held your face.

“We can let the door open…” you said, you’d do anything so he didn’t feel caged. “If you ever can’t take it, tell me and we’re finding another place for us.”

“Alrigh.” He answered and he could swear after all this months together his heart still skipped a beat when you were so kind to him. “Let’s get to bed, babe.”

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998

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[strangersteddierthings]

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

"So," Dustin starts as he falls into step with Gareth, "you were pretty interested in Steve's whereabouts earlier. What's up with that?"

Gareth debates not answering at all. Just ignoring Dustin until he jogged to catch back up to Lucas and Max. That's rude, though, and he has no reason to be rude to Dustin. The thing he has to decide is how honest is he going be? "Just thought he'd be at Chrissy's funeral and he wasn't."

"I wasn't either, but you didn't shove me."

"Should I shove you now to make up for it?"

Dustin glares at him before it morphs into a frown and he mutters, more to himself than Gareth, "the storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed."

"What- are you quoting Lord of the Rings to me? That's-"

"What, no, I'm quoting it to myself. Were Steve and you friends once?"

This kid is way to observant. Truth it is. "Uh, yeah. But also, he's my cousin."

Dustin processes this, if the silence that follows is anything to go by. "Wait. Like your cousin but- on whose side?"

"If you're asking if Chrissy is -was- also his cousin, the answer's yes. My dad, Chrissy's dad, and Steve's mom are siblings," Gareth spells it out, and hears a gasp from ahead of them. Looking forward reveals the distance between their two little groups has vanished, as Lucas and Max are mere steps away and stopped. Eavesdropping, apparently. Max whips around to look at him with the first expression he's seen on her face since they met at Skull Rock. He's a little impressed that she can look pissed off and concerned at the same time.

"Are you telling the truth?" she demands.

"Why would I lie?" Gareth says. "Ask Steve after we rescue him if you don't believe me."

The kids exchange looks that he can't decipher. Max jams the headphones back onto her head and turns on her heel, marching onward. The three boys have no choice but to follow.

"You've been worried for Eddie and Steve, haven't you?" Lucas asks.

"Yeah," Gareth says truthfully. He's been on just this side of freaked the fuck out since yesterday, but learning his best friend and his cousin were in the alternate dimension has done nothing to calm that. He's going to strangle them both when he sees them again. For stressing him out this much.

Steve has never been happier to see Dustin than he is now, standing in the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, looking down at him. Up at him? He doesn't want to think on that too much.

The kids haul Eddie's mattress from his room to below the gate and make a rope of sheets, and soon enough Eddie is volunteering to go first. Steve watches, almost afraid that this easy escape is almost too easy, but Eddie lands on his mattress, looking startled before a wide smile breaks across his face. Eddie should smile more. Happy is a good look on him.

Before Steve can really have to process that thought, Gareth is helping Eddie up and Robin is asking for Steve's assistance to go next.

He watches her land before turning to Nancy. "You're turn."

Nancy's got a look on her face Steve hasn't seen in a long time. It's mischievous, almost teasing. She hasn't looked at him like that since before Barb died. "Steve Harrington. Who would have thought?"

"What?" Steve asks, confused.

"Eddie says one nice thing to you and you can't take your eyes off him?" Nancy says, using the same fake tone of surprise and shock that Carol used to use when she was making fun of someone.

"I don't know what you're talking about but we gotta go. Come on," he gestures for her to step closer, but she just smiles, almost too wide.

"Don't think I didn't notice," Eddie shouts from above him. Steve whips his head back to look up. Eddie, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Gareth are standing in a circle around the sheet rope, all looking up at him. "You kept looking down at my lips, like you couldn't believe the words I was saying."

"Sure. Or another, less platonic reason," Robin wiggles her eyebrows at him.

"Is this really the time for any sort of conversation?" Steve asks, incredulously. "The heckling can wait until we're back on the right side."

"Was all the shit about trying to warn me to stay away from Eddie so you could stare without consequences? Didn't want a witness to your crime?" Gareth's voice comes out cruel. "Is that why it was so easy to toss me and Chrissy aside? You thought if we weren't close enough, we wouldn't see the cracks in your foundation?"

"Steve. Steve!" Nancy's shouting grabs everyone's attention, and Gareth scrambles to look up at what is happening. Nancy has her hands on Steve's shoulders, shaking him as he just stands there.

"What's-" Gareth starts to ask but Robin cuts him off.

"Music! Eddie, do you have Tears for Fears!?"

Eddie looks insulted at being asked but that quickly gives way to fear. He takes off to his room, Robin and the kids quick on his heel but Gareth stays. He doesn't understand why they need music. Not that he could take his eyes off Steve anyway. "Is Steve- What is happening?"

Nancy looks down (up?) at him, and says, "It's Vecna's curse. Music can reach part of your mind that other things can't. It helps pull you back, away from Vecna."

"Steve is- like what happened with Chrissy?" Gareth asks, unable to keep the rising fear and panic from his voice.

It looks like it pains Nancy to say, "Yes."

Steve isn't in the trailer anymore. Instead, he's watching as four gates spread and tear Hawkins apart, devouring the town building by building, slowly creepy towards him but he can't seem to bring himself to move.

"Just one more gate, Steve Harrington."

Steve blinks and he's not looking at the destruction of Hawkins anymore. In front of him is a monster.

"I could have picked you. Instead of Chrissy. Instead of Maxine. But I think I have a better use of you."

"I'm not doing shit for you," Steve spits with more bravado than he actually feels.

The monster, who can only be Vecna, just twists his lip up in a disgusting grin before Steve finds himself rapidly closing in until Vecna is inches from his face. "You will tell Eleven that I am coming for her. You will live to deliver this message. In return, I will let you choose."

"Choose what?"

"I will take one more life for my gates. It can be Maxine, or another."

"Me. Leave Max alone!" Steve screams in his face, fights against the force holding him hostage. He wants so bad to swing his fist into Vecna's stupid face.

"No. No. I took one cousin from you, and now you've only one family member left to might care that you exist at all, Steve. I took Chrissy, and now, perhaps, I'll take the other cousin, too. Gareth."

"If you even try-"

"Maxine or Gareth. Which means more to you? Who would you sacrifice to save the other? I think I know. Or, if you cannot choose, I can take both."

Everyone watches as Steve drops like a stone to his knees, hands shooting out to stop his decent further. It takes a second for that to sink in. That he's not dead.

Gareth almost cries over it. All his anger at Steve, the resentment, fades into nothing but relief. It feels so stupid to hold a grudge suddenly. What does he gain from being mad at Steve? For something he originally asked for? He told Steve, and Chrissy, to pretend to not know him. He can't be mad that Steve did that, even after graduating. Gareth never took back his request! How was Steve to know he didn't care about that anymore?

And now that Steve could have- that Vecna tried to- it just seems stupid.

There's more fussing and fretting but eventually Nancy and Steve drop onto the mattress and everyone crowds Steve.

Gareth waits just a few minutes before he bully he's was in. He takes Dustin by the back of his shirt, like Eddie does all the time, and drags him bodily backwards. Dustin fights for all of four seconds, until he turns to see who's moving him, then he lets himself be moved. All the kids take a step back, give him room.

Steve meets his eye and he looks so haunted. So hurt. Steve opens his mouth but Gareth beats him to speaking.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry," he says, then launches himself at Steve. Steve catches him easily and hugs him back almost too tightly.

In a barely perceptible whisper, Steve says, "I'm sorry, too."

Later, much later, Steve sneaks out to get some fresh air. He doesn't go far from Max's home, just around the back into the dark, hidden from the street lamps.

He lets himself break down, for just a moment, where no one can see and keeps his sobs silent so no one will hear.

He's going to hate himself for the rest of his life. Because Vecna told him to choose, and God help him.

He had.

[observeowl]

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 4 - Going above and beyond

Series Masterlist

"Thanks to you guys, the bonus for this month, was give to us, Team 2 instead of Team 1. This time round, people from Team 1 won't have anything to mock us about." Millicent said as she brought us to the meeting room where Mr Stark called for a meeting.

You just hoped that this won't be a reason for you to be picked on. Once you entered, you could see Sharon's scowl on her face accompanied by her two companions. "Mr Stark, Team 2's news were too exaggerated isn't it?" One of them said. "Yes, even though the magazine press gained quite a number of attention, but we also gained a number of negative responses." Another added.

"But we can't just be beaten for no reason!" Wanda said. "Ok, ok, calm down. This incident has its pros and cons, let bygones be bygones." Mr Stark got everyone's attention at the head of the table. "Now we have 2 very important and difficult interviews coming up. They are very influential businessmen, we must take it on. The two groups will be responsible for one interview each. Team 1 will interview Carol Danvers. Wanda, I heard you are a fan of Natasha Romanoff so Team 2 shall be in charge of interviewing her."

Natasha... what were the chances that you were actually assigned to interview her.

"Natasha Romanoff? Isn't she the boss of Romanoff Corporation?" // "I have heard that Carol Danvers doesn't accept most of the interviews..."

"Then, what should we do, Sharon...?"

With the dismissal of the meeting, you and Wanda start planning how you were going approach Natasha to get a meeting. You weren't too sure about their history in terms of getting interviews and asked Wanda about it. "Carol has never accepted any interviews. Natasha was alright in the past, but ever since she got into an accident, she never accepted any interviews again. We tried to contact him previously, and did not even went past his assistant."

You nodded at her explanation and wondered what happened in that accident. "So, Natasha is your idol?"

"Natasha Romanoff used to be everyone's dream in the city, man or woman. It's a pity she got into an accident." Her eyes sparkled as she talked about her idol.

"I know it's not an easy task, but we must do our best for the sake of Team 2's reputation and pride." Millicent encouraged as she gave you all a brief guide on where to begin. "Just the thought of meeting my idol, makes me so nervous! Even though we might be able to meet!" Wanda was shaking wth excitement and it's not often that she feels so happy for an assignment. "I heard that she have gotten married, but has kept it a secret from the public. I wonder who would be so lucky to be her partner!" She gossiped with you and you replied with an awkward smile. not knowing that you were the one.

Once you reached home, you spotted Clint coming out of his room and you whispered to his name to get his attention. "Clint! Psps, over here." You waved for him to come closer. "Did you just 'psps' at me?"

"Doesn't matter. Does Natasha not accept any interview at all?" You asked. "Y/N, you can ask her in person." You averted your eye and replied. "I got no intention at all, just asking."

"What are the two of you doing?" You didn't even realised you were standing right in front of her room and got a shock when she opened the door. "Y/N was asking me about interviewing you." You couldn't believe you were betrayed straightaway.

"Well, alright, I'll get this straight." You resigned to your fate. "Ms Romanoff... Our magazine would like to invite you to do an interview, I do no know if you would like to... come..." You tried your best to put on a professional smile, but all Natasha could see was you trying your best not to break into a sweat. After not receiving a reply, you thought all was going down and there was no way she would agree to it.

"What interview?"

"Are you interested?" You squatted down next to her at her armrest and continued. "The magazine became famous because of Sherry, so I would like to take this opportunity to get an interview with a few influential people. It's okay if you're not wiling to." You reinforced that she didn't have to do anything she wasn't comfortable in doing. "On what terms?" She asked. "Eh? You've got everything you want, what else do you want? And our company-"

"I want you."

"What, what are you talking about?"

"I say, I want you to treat me to dinner. What are you thinking?" You gave an awkward half laugh and sigh. "I promise you! I will arrange for the interview."

"Really? Natasha Romanoff, you're the best. Let me go and see what Brooke is cooking, I will bring up for you." That was the first time Natasha has seen you smile so brightly and freely, like the best painting she has ever seen.

You were thinking if you should tell Wanda about this when Brooke told you that someone called you using the home landline. You wondered who would have the number as you brought the phone to your ears.

S: Y/N, you went too far! Are you the one behind what happened to Sherry? Do you know you just wrecked the future of a good singer? How could you do this?

You: This happened because Sherry wanted to help Maggie get back at me. If she didn't refuse to let me go, it won't end up like this.

S: She knows that she's wrong, you can retreat the news. Let's just forget about this.

You: Now this have already gone too far. Neither you nor I could settle it down. Also, you don't have to seek up to me so frequently. Marcus and Y/L/N's industry is all yours, I have no interest in it, so what you do keep bothering me?

S: Y/N! What nonsense are you talking about? I just couldn't bear it so I wanted to help them!

You: You are clear about your thought. This is what they deserve to have.

S: Y/N Y/L/N, don't you feel guilty?

You: I'm sorry, not even a bit.

You rebutted and hung up the phone. "Brooke, if this person calls in the future, please hang up. Don't need to get me to answer." You said as you returned her the phone.

Back with Stephanie, she was making a mess in the living room. "Miss, please calm down, you already smashed many of Mr Y/L/N's antique!"

"Go away! All of you, get out!" She threw a pillow and it end up hitting on Marcus's chest. "Steph, why are you so upset?"

"Marcus! Y/N is pissing me off. You got to help me!"

"Enough, Steph! I've already told you Maggie is just using you, she never treated you as a friend."

"Marcus, what are you talking about?"

"Steph, I am exhausted from the corporation with the Y/L/N's. Can you please not bother me anymore?" In her mind, Y/N was still a threat to her.

"Dad, look what Y/N did. Because of our family, I gave Natasha to her, but she didn't help the company and didn't even come back home to see you." She complained and whined like a child would. "Dad, this is too much!" He shook his head, saying he will think of something for it.

In the end, he made a call to you feigning illness, using your sympathy to get you to visit him.

The next day, you visited your father with Natasha and he seems to be very happy that she was here. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me that Natasha is coming along?"

"I heard from Y/N that you're not feeling well, Y/N has been very worried so I decided to come with her. But you don't look like you're sick." She has no problem saying what she thinks even if it hurts the other's feeling.

"Natasha, my dad had high fever the whole day yesterday, he has just gotten better today." Stephanie came to assist her father. "He heard Y/N is back, so he came down to fetch her, but actually he is still weak."

"Y/N, come with me, I have something for you." You followed him to his room where he took something out from his drawer. "It is my fault to let you marry to Romanoff. I did not requie you to do anything else before. But don't forget the reason why you married into Romanoff family, I have done this for Y/L/N, the Y/L/N's family! If your mother was still here, she would also have agreed. Just because of you, Stephanie gave up the marriage and accepted Marcus so that you could marry Natasha Romanoff, don't make her sad okay?" You fault hard to not roll you eyes in front of him. "Your mother left this to you. She said this would be your dowry when you get married." He handed you a jade ring you have never seen before. "That time we were so poor, so you rmum only have this favourite ring."

Despite what had happened between the rest of your family, you had fond memories of your mother before she passed. "I understand... dad."

You met Marcus along the hallway and he was trying to act like a victim and a saviour to you at the same time. But you were no longer the lovesick puppy who foolishly loved him and does everything he says. He tried to hold you back and hopes to make things anew but you weren't going to let him.

"What's wrong?" Natasha came along when she heard the commotion. "Natasha?" Despite being on a wheelchair, she must have a great upper body strength as she managed to pull you onto her lap. "Tell me, is anyone bothering you again?" You shook your head before standing up.

"If Mr Y/L/N is good, pardon us to leave first."

"Dad, Natasha is not used to eating out, we will be heading home first."

"Oh, alright then."

"There is something I forgot to say, that idol was banned by me. For saying what shouldn't have been said, and doing what shouldn't have been done. You understand what I mean right, Stephanie?" Despite not saying anything for a long time, Natasha recognised every presence in the room. "That video you recorded last time, don't let me see it again."

===

You went to work once the weekend was over and Wanda greeted you with a bad news. "I heard that Sharon has some relationships with Romanoff Corporation, and they changed our interview, so we are interviewing Carol instead!"

"Actually interviewing Carol is not bad, compared to Natasha Romanoff's eccentric character, it's better to interview Carol." Millicent said. Your preparation for the interview with Natasha turned out to be in vained and Wanda missed out on her chance to meet her idol. "You two go get ready for the interview, I'll contact the person. Remember, don't mind what others say, we just need to do our job properly."

Back at the table, Wanda was still complaining how she should have fought more in order to get the interview, but you had already changed your goal and planned to contact Carol's assistant first.

"Hello? Is this the assistant of Carol Danvers? We are from Stark News and we would like to invite her for an interview."

"Sorry, Miss Danvers is not available recently." She said and hung up the phone immediately, leaving you to hear the beeping sound of the phone.

Wanda was getting unmovivated as Team 1 has already made an appointment with Natasha Romanoff for interview. You were also getting frustrated not getting any progress with your assignment. But Wanda tapped your shoulder when he noticed a handsome man waiting by the door.

"What are you doing here, Marcus?" You said when you brought him to a secluded place away from prying eyes. 

"I passed by and decided to come up and say hi." You chuckled. In the three years you were with him, never once did he thought of visiting you when you worked close to where he did. He was still harping on the case about Sherry and talking bad about Roamanoff. Thing were getting risky when he trapped you between his arms,

"Enough, let go of me. I am already married, brother-in-law, please behave!" You pushed him away. Stephanie came in at the wrong time and accused Marcus of being hanky panky with her. She even pulled you in saying that you were happy now that Sherry is blocked.

"Stephanie! That is all over, why do you still mention it? Y/N is your sister, I just happend to pass by here to visit her, what is wrong?"

"Bullshit! Admit to yourself! You just can't move on from your old relationship with her." In the heat of the moment, she slapped Marcus and pulled her hand back immediately. "Marcus, I, I didn't mean it, Marcus..."

"Let's go home." Marcus said softly. You shook your head at the incident and how your life has become.

You heard a clap as you come out of the emergency exit. "Unexpectedly, I saw a good play."

"What?" You asked irritatingly after receiving one trouble after the other. "Nothing, nothing. I just cant believe it's just another side of you. Already married and still want to snatch your sister boyfriend, no wonder Sherry is not your match either." She sneerred. "Think whatever you like."

"Don't you feel embarrassed?"

"If I have time to think about this, I would use it to get Carol's interview. Sharon, you can stay here if you like. I will pack up and get off work first." You brushed her off and walked away.

As you passed the gantry, your phone pinged with a message and you realised it was Natasha waiting outside the building. You rushed out thinking why did she come to such a crowded place. And true to her words, her car was waiting by the road side and got it after making sure no one was around to see you enter.

"Why are you here?" You asked after entering. "Passed by."

"Isn't it not convenient to show up?"

"I changed by car, idiot." The car drove for a few minutes until she spoke up again. "Oh right, my father is coming. Just be at ease."

Father? You remember seeing him during the wedding and his stern face scared you.

Once you returned home, you asked Brooke where he was. "He is in the study room alone."

"Let's go and accompany him." Natasha said to you and you were shocked beyond words. How were you going to approach him? You wheeled Natasha to the study room where you saw him playing chess with himself.

"Alexei, are you playing chess by yourself again?"

"You're back?" He turned his back and stood up making your heartbeat quicken once again as he was approaching you. "Y/N... Let's go eat dinner!" He said excitedly, making your jaw drop at his new expression. He was like a golden retriever, pulling you away from Natasha. "Since that brat wants to play chess, let him play by himself." You looked between Natasha and her father as you forced away.

You were sitting at dinning table, waiting to be served when he said something again. "Y/N, come here, I've got something to tell you." You went closer to him and Alexei made sure Natasha was not around to listen. "That fool, is she sleeping in a different room from you? What are you sacred of? Tell me the truth, is that brat bullying you? I will help you!"

"No, no. It's me who is afraid to wake him up, that's why I suggested to sleep in another room." You rushed to explain yourself. "Y/N, you're a good kid."

"Alexei, I am not as good as you think."

===

"Natasha! Your bed is so soft, and I have decided that I will sleep here! Tonight, you should stay with Y/N." Natasha having anticipated this, wasn't afraid of it. "No need, Brooke prepared a room for you, I'll just sleep there tonight."

When she entered the room, Brooke was putting on the finishing touches. "Miss, the room is ready, but the bathroom..."

"It's okay."

As it was the guest bedroom, it wasn't fixed with the kind of appliance that were friendly to wheelchair users. The showerhead was high up and poses a challenge to Natasha, having to stand up to reach it. Despite undergoing physical therapy to get back where she once was, she was not ready to take such a huge step in a slippery bathroom. When she slipped, everyone in the household in the second floor, could hear it.

"Nata-" Alexei wanted to help but was held back by you. "Alexei, let's go out first. You should get some rest. I will go see her afterwards. I believe she doesn't want anyone to see her now. If we remind her like this, it will make him feel worse."

You waited outside the bathroom until she come out. You saw that she was fine with no physical injury. "I'm fine." She said when she saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. "I know. I believe you."

===

"Why is Natasha Romanoff so hard to deal with?" One of the Team 1 members complained. "She promised to do the interview but he postponed it again! What is she up to?" "What should we do? Are we unable to interview her again?"

"Y/N, it seems like something cropped up for princess charming, why else would she postpone?" Wanda asked after eavesdropping. "If you have time to think about this, why don't you start thinking about how we should settle the interview for Carol!" As you teased Wanda for caring for a idol, you can't help but this if it was because of what happened yesterday that caused her to postpone the interview. Nonetheless, you tried calling Carol's assistant once again with Wanda listening in close next to your ears. "Hello, we are Stark News, may I ask if Carol Danvers is free to-"

"Sorry, Miss Danver has been on a holiday recently and is not available."

"How is it? How is it? Did Miss Danvers agree to do the interview?" Wanda asked as she sees you pulling your phone away. Seeing you shake your head, she collapsed onto her chair. "We are at our dead end now?"

"Go prepare the manuscript for tomorrow's publication, I'll try to contact Danver's assistant when I reach home tonight again."

"Then I'll leave that to you. I'll go back and prepare the interview script."

After a long day at work, you finally reach home in the evening. "Y/N! You're finally home!" Alexei came barreling to you before you were able to close the door. "A-Alexei! What's wrong?"

"You don't know how that brat bullied me when you're not home. I'm so bored at home and she just ignored me."

"Did I?"

"Y/N, let's ignore that little rascal." You sneaked in a little chuckle at the dynamic of this family. "Okay okay, let's eat first, shall we? I just smelled Brooke's cooking and I'm dead hungry."

"Humph." Alexei pulled a face acting like a child who didn't get what he wanted. At dinner, Natasha was constantly putting more food on your plate, making sure you ate enough until you told her to stop and you wouldn't be able to finish everything.

You stood by the balcony after dinner, feeling very satisfied. Thinking back to what Mr Stark said at the meeting, you decided to take another chance at calling Carol Danver's assistant again. If you were unable to get a meeting with her, you'd have to find another influential person to interview. Looking into the starry night, you prayed upon the stars that you would receive a favourable reply, but you only got a negative response.

Stepping back into the room, you shivered slightly now that it was starting to get into autumn, and it caught the eye of Alexei. He gave you a glass of water before berating his daughter again. "You drink this slowly, her own wife is getting a cold and she doesn't do anything about it." You chuckled a little before accepting the water. You didn't think he had such a character when you first met him and honestly, it is a respite towards the cold character that Natasha has been giving you.

"Oi, your wife has caught a cold, you should go show some concern." Alexei walked into Natasha's home office and announced. "Is she? She seemed fine just now."

"Girls are delicate, go check on her now!" He urged her to make a move, and she had no choice but to look into your room. You were fine when she wheeled past your room earlier as you were taking a call, but now, you were spread across the bed. "What's wrong? Where are you not feeling well?" She got closer to check. You were unable to reply coherently, but you noticed her right next to you. "Uh- so... dizzy, so hot..." You held her hand when she tried to measure your temperature.

"I'm so sad..." You suddenly sat up and hugged Natasha. "My dad doesn't want me, Marcus doesn't want me. Don't tell me you don't want me either." You cried onto her shoulder. "I won't." You pulled away and looked at her seriously. "You swear! Quick! I'm about to die from being so sad. If I die, I won't be able to hear you say it."

"Y/N... I swear-." She stopped halfway when she noticed you were drunk. "Natasha Romanoff, why do you look so beautiful and so hot." Influenced by the drink that Alexei gave you, you surged forward and kissed her on the lips. "Y/N..., you're drunk."

===

When you woke up in the morning, you shifted around before fully waking up and opening your eyes. In your haze, you managed to recognise the red hair in front of you and sat up in shock. "You're awake." The sudden movement must have woken Natasha. "You-you, I-." You pushed Natasha away before getting out of bed. "I just remember I have to get to the office, I have to go first."

You were brushing your teeth in the bathroom when you realised it must have been Alexei's doing last night when he gave you that glass of 'water'. You immediately rushed down to ask Brooke where he was, only to learn that he had already left, claiming to have to take care of his plants at home.

With Natasha, she called Alexei to check if it was indeed his doing. "Yup. She seemed to have caught a little cold. Coincidentally, I was brewing some medicinal wine! It was a gift from an old friend."

"You should drink less of that in the future, thank goodness nothing big happened. I'm hanging up." Next, she called Clint who was out of the office collecting some stuff for her before starting work. "Contact Carol, I want to invite Carol and her wife to lunch."

"Carol Danvers? Carol and Romanoff Corp. haven't had any business dealing, Nat. Is this-"

"This afternoon." Natasha interrupted. "Yes, Nat."

You arrived at your table in the office, and there was a feeling of contemplation and hesitation towards the next step. "Y/N, how are things on Carol's side?" Millicent came to check on you once she arrived at work. You shook your head negatively as all your efforts were for nought. "So we can only give up now? We can't let Group 1 make a fool of us. From now on, prepare for another interview! You're going to prepare another interview script for the Movie Queen Monica Rambeau.

You were working closely with Wanda for the next script when you heard your phone ring and were about to decline the call until you saw it was from Natasha. "Leave your afternoon free to accompany me to meet someone." You didn't even get to tell her you were busy and were unable to stay long on the phone. "Can it wait till I get off from work?"

"This afternoon, at 3pm, I am having a meeting with Carol Danvers."

That made you shoot up from your chair, scaring Wanda. "Carol Danvers? I want to go! I will request an afternoon leave!" You covered the receiver on your phone and turned to Millicent. "Millicent, can I get an afternoon leave? I am going to meet Carol."

"You can go now. Prepare everything you need! You must interview Carol this afternoon!"

"Do you need me to go with you?" Wanda asked. "I can go alone, if there are too many people, I'm afraid she will not be happy." You were trying to be cautious after the incident with Sherry.

To make sure the interview goes well, many people stepped forward to help you, including those you have never interacted with before.

===

"Miss Romanoff, the two have arrived, they are just waiting for you." The waiter showed the two of you to the room before opening the door for you. "What is the occasion that made you think about treating us today?" From the way she speaks to Nat, you can tell that they have been friends for a long time. Additionally, you can't help but notice another female next to her. You never heard of her getting married.

"There must be an occasion to treat you?" She smiled at the response before standing and approaching Natasha. "So, this is your newly wedded wife?"

"Yes, this is her." You glanced at Natasha for a second, surprised to see that she actually admitted to it. "Hi, I am Carol Danvers. Just call me Carol." She extended her hand and you accepted the handshake. "Hello, I am Y/N Y/L/N." "Oh right, this is my wife, Valkyrie."

"Nice to meet you." You waved to her with a smile distant back. "So, how does it feel to marry this iceberg?" She inched closer and whispered next to your ears. "It... it feels alright." You replied while looking at Natasha. "I didn't believe that you could stand him."

"Huh?" You were about to ask her what she meant when Natasha cleared her throat, reminding you that you have something to ask of Carol. "Ah! Yes, Carol-"

"Oh yes! I came this time to give you an interview. Right, Nat..." Carol was very bold in teasing Natasha, making you wonder how long they have been friends.

The interview was very easygoing. Carol was a terrific interviewee, often giving juicy content. It felt like you were speaking to a longtime friend of yours, filled with laughter and jokes.

"Alright, thank you so much for accepting the interview. I need to call my team leader, you can chat around for a while first."

"Why did you suddenly get married? Didn't you say you weren't ready?" Carol asked when you stepped out of the room. She loves to hear such stories from her friends. "When the time comes, it will eventually happen."

The lunch ended on a nice note and you even exchanged numbers with her and her wife. You have a feeling that you're going to be great friends with them. On the way back, you asked Natasha who was working on the go how she knew you wanted to interview Carol. "I accidentally overheard your conversation on the phone on the balcony." She replied. You had a fluttering feeling in your body. You didn't expect her to help you like this. "I will also be going to your company for an interview." And you instantly pout again, this way Group 1 will still have an advantage by being able to interview her.

===

"Y/N!! You're the best! How did you do it? Wasn't Carol Danvers on vacation?" Wanda rushed over to hug you once you entered the building. "Well... about this, maybe her assistant put lots of good words for us, that's why Carol agreed to accept the interview." You felt bad lying to Wanda, but you had no choice. "Luckily we didn't give up, or else her assistant wouldn't have been touched by our resilience and helped us!"

"So what if you're done with Carol Danvers's interview?" Both of your heads turn to face Sharon who was looking smugly at the two of you. "Carol Danver is only a little famous, but Natasha Romanoff is different. Her reputation is much higher than Danver's."

"Sharon, your group and our group completed our task. Shouldn't we be happy?" Thank god for Wanda's tough side, you would never have spoken up like this. "Isn't it because you have someone at your back? I don't believe that without anyone's help, you would be able to see Carol Danvers."

"Nonsense. Why is Sharon so hot-tempered? She can't bear to see us living well?"

It wasn't long before rumours spread that Natasha Romanoff was in the building and many flocked to the entrance to be able to see a glimpse of her. Her presence was still able to turn many heads as she was wheeled in by Clint.

"Hello Miss Romanoff, welcome to our company." Sharon, as the team leader, went to greet her and introduced herself. "Miss Romanoff like some peace."

Finally noticing the crowd here, she immediately rushed the rest to leave and continue with their work. "Miss Romanoff, this way." She directed them to the meeting room and had to pass by the crowd you were in as Wanda dragged you there. You quickly turned away hoping she didn't see you but when she asked about your presence, you immediately clung onto Wanda and dragged her back to your table.

"Miss Y/L/N previously contacted Miss Romanoff saying she wants to do an interview." Clint clarified when Sharon didn't understand why she wanted to see you. "What? How could it be? It is Manager Dwayne from Romanoff Corporation who helped me arrange for this interview."

"Huh, I don't even know my schedule. When did it come to a little team leader to be able to make such a decision?" Sharon was at a loss for words, the first time being faced with her cold demeanour. "Since Miss Y/L/N is not here, let's leave. Clint."

"I'll call her right away." Sharon had no choice but to back down when she realised Natasha was going to leave.

"Millicent! I want to borrow Y/N Y/L/N from you. This time for Natasha Roamnoff's interview, I will give the newbie a chance."

"Are you really that kind?"

"Are you going to lend her or not?"

So that's how you and Wanda got the chance to interview Natasha Romanoff and speak to her. You started off by handing Natasha a rough script of what you were going to ask to make sure that the questions were okay and did not cross any boundaries. "I can't believe it, it really is my idol! When I saw her in magazines I thought she was beautiful enough. I didn't expect the real person to be even more beautiful!" Wanda was unable to contain her excitement being in the same room as her.

"Thank you for the invitation Miss Y/L/N." Natasha said when she returned the papers to you. Wanda could feel like something was in the air, but she didn't mention anything. "It's my pleasure, then let's get started, Miss Romanoff." You allowed Wanda to lead this interview, fulfilling her dreams of talking to her idol.

W: I heard that you have been in the business world since 20 years old. After nearly 10 years, you created the Romanoff Corporation. Can you share some experiences with us?

N: Talent.

W: Oh yes, previously you got married, but your wife's identity has always been a secret. Can you share a little on what kind of person your wife is?

N: She's very good. Probably because she is my most precious treasure in the world so I don't want to share her with anyone.

W: Is that why you won't disclose her identity?

N: Yes, she has her own life, I don't want her to be affected.

"Thank you Miss Romanoff for your cooperation today," Wanda said as you turned off the camera recording this session. "We shall see you off then."

"Oh god! I never thought that I would have a chance to have such close contact with my idol and even have a conversation!" Wanda squealed once Natasha left the door. "Wanda, you were very professional." You praised. "Of course I am."

"Ah shit! I forgot to ask her for an autograph." You smiled slightly at Wanda, at least it wasn't just you who was nervous.

"Where is the interview draft script and recording?" There it is, the devil that is constantly at your shoulder disrupting your life. "Sharon, what do you want to do?"

"Even if we gave you guys the interview, do you think we will also give you the interview results as well?" You had to resist rolling your eyes in front of her. "Then why would you go through the hassle of changing people for the interview?" You pushed her buttons, knowing the exact reason why she had to. "It is simply because Sharon was kind to train and give a chance to newbies so you guys got the chance to do the interview!"

"Fine, if that's the case, I remember there are newbies in Group 1 as well right?"

"You mean Group 2 will not share Natasha Romanoff's interview results right?"

"Sharon, what are you doing?" Millicent came to your rescue. "Miss Romanoff shouldn't have gone far, you can ask her some questions if you want. Then you will get a clearer understanding of her wishes."

"If we are going to disturb Miss Romanoff for such trivial matters, isn't it going to show our magazine agency is useless? This time I will let go of it, next time, I won't be so kind!" She and her lackeys finally left Group 2 alone.

You decided to call Natasha when almost everything was finished and ready to be published in tomorrow's paper. "Natasha, I just want to say... thank you for everything today..." You heard the call end and noticed that she hung up on you again. But this time, it was replaced with a message saying she was waiting for you outside.

===

Finally, it's been a long time since you felt so relaxed and refreshed, not having to worry about anything and coming back home for a fulfilling day. You can smile without having to put up a front. "Accompany me to a place tomorrow," Natasha said as you were having dinner together. "Then I will apply for a leave later."

"Just to let you know, since you got to interview Carol and I, your company decided to give you a week off as a reward."

"Really?!"

"Yes."

"Since there is no way to treat you to a meal, I will accompany you wherever you go next week!" Despite dressing in simple clothes, Natasha felt your smile was able to make your entire aura brighter, and even the people around you melt.

"Does this count as a honeymoon?"

Series Masterlist

[sandcobangevent]

Unlucky

by @high-functioning-otter and @holmosexualitea Read the fic over on AO3!

Bing. Text notification. About the 10th in the last half an hour. John didn’t count deliberately. Actually, he was trying to focus on answering emails and editing a new episode for the podcast but he struggled a lot with concentrating today. That’s why Mariana had offered to go for a walk with Archie for him and also dragged Sherlock along so he could really work in peace for once.

He glanced over at the phone screen lighting up again after another message came in. From where he was sitting, he could only see who these messages sent and not the content of them. Nevertheless, he nearly fell off his chair when his brain registered who the sender was: Carol Watson. Now every last bit of concentration was definitely completely gone. This was Mariana’s phone, she forgot it. But what? Why was Mariana texting his mother? And what about? And since when? And why???

After yet another text notification sound disrupted the silence of the living room, John couldn’t contain himself anymore. He knew that it was wrong to snoop through other people’s phones – especially if these people are your friends. He knew he shouldn't, but he simply couldn't help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text from the lockscreen.

“What is this?” John held up Mariana’s phone right into her face. It had felt like an eternity since his two housemates left and now that they were back he didn't know what to feel. The past hour he went through all sorts of emotions. From confusion to betrayal to anger to more confusion and then more anger.

“This is my phone. I left it at home. Thank you, John.” Mariana replied confused and she reached out for the phone but John quickly pulled his hand back.

“No, I know what this is. I meant the messages. Why are you texting my mom?” Mariana’s eyes widened a bit. Unsure she glanced over at Sherlock. She didn't know how to respond, if she should tell the truth or resort to a lie. “The question rather is: why are you reading Mrs Hudson’s text messages?” the detective answered for her.

“No no, that’s not...” John cleared his throat awkwardly but then hurriedly continued talking. “Anyway, you know, I can understand when my mother refuses to tell me about this but… you? I-I mean… yes. Isn’t this super weird? And wow okay I never expected my mom to not be straight or that she would go for someone so much younger… or that you would…”

“Get to the point, Watson!” Sherlock finally interrupted the rambling.

“Why are you dating my mother?!” Suddenly the room was dead silent, the three just stared at each other in confusion before both Mariana and Sherlock busted out into laughter. “What? Where did you get that idea?” Mariana asked while she was trying to calm down again.

“Here.” The doctor held up the phone once more and showed the messages to her. She read them and then nodded. “Yeah, okay I can see where you’re coming from. But I can assure you, it’s not what it looks like!” That was exactly the sentence everyone used after they’ve been caught red-handed, when it's exactly what it looks like. Mariana looked over at Sherlock, almost as if she was asking for his permission to speak. Finally, he shrugged and answered for her: “We’re assisting her on a case. Now, she didn’t want us to tell you but seems like nothing gets past you. Well done, Watson, you do make a great detective.”

“A case? What kind of case- Hold on. Why didn’t she want you to tell me? What’s going on?” This was worse. Way worse than just a hidden relationship or anything of the sort. All this time his two friends had secretly worked on a case together, right behind his back. But that also explained a lot.

“She doesn’t want us to tell you.” Mariana replied with a nearly guilty expression on her face. John just couldn’t understand this. What was it that he couldn’t know about? But it was no use. He wouldn’t get an answer to this question, at least not on this day. Both of his housemates were very keen on keeping the secret a secret and no matter how often he asked none of them answered it. Eventually, it was too much for him.

“Right, that’s it, I’m going out. To the pub, in case you’re-… no actually, don’t. Don’t follow or search for me.” And with that John left the house in a hurry. He quickly got into the nearest tube station and took the next train that would take him away from 221b Bakerstreet.

The now podcaster found himself in the exact spot he was in a few months ago. This was not The Volunteer, the pub he would normally go to. No, this was the pub he was supposed to meet up with Mary, where he then ran into Stamford and where this adventure with his detective flatmate started. Now he was there alone, thinking over this crazy day. It had started so normal and now everything was different. The microphone was laying on the table but for once it wasn’t on. John felt upset, extremely upset. It was less painful that his mother was hiding something from him – at a certain age it simply was like that – it hurt more that the people he saw as his best friends went along with it and actually didn’t tell him about it. What problem could be that horrible that it had to be hidden so well? And why didn’t mom just go to the police if it was something serious? Why go to his friends but keep her own son out of it? So many questions and so little answers.

The next day John barely spoke a word to his friends. They had never seen him so upset before. Of course, they tried to apologize but it was all in vain. When it was time for dinner, Sherlock tried again: “Watson. I’m really sorry. But your mother did give very clear instructions.” Silence. “Would you like a hug?” John considered it for a second but then he decided that a simple hug would not solve this matter. “A cup of tea? Biscuits? Anything?” Tea and biscuits for dinner? Yeah no but nice try. “Okay, I don’t understand it. I've apologized multiple times, I don't know what else to do.” John finally opened his mouth to answer but just in that moment someone knocked on the door.

It was Mariana. Perfect timing. “Can I borrow Sherlock for a second?” the doctor couldn’t believe his ears now. The audacity to ask this right in front of him when it was obvious what she wanted Sherlock for. Not this time. He just needed to know what’s going on.

“No actually, first you explain this to me. What is so horrible that my mother doesn’t want me to know?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Mariana sighed. Now it didn't take much and she finally gave in. She hated this game of hide-and-seek. Only very reluctantly she began to talk.

“Okay. It’s about a guy.” John scoffed and immediately interrupted her baffled. “Really? That’s what she wants to hide from me? She's had dates before ever since dad… well, I'm not mad at her, you know. If it makes her happy then she can go out with whoever she likes.“

“Yes, but the last time they met up the guy acted completely different than before, a complete turnaround. He wanted her to go back to his house but she got suspicious and left early instead. And then she reached out to us. Well, to Sherlock with the request to check up on this man and to not tell you anything.”

John just laughed out loud. “Are you being serious right now? So, this… this is the grand secret that no one here could tell me about? Seriously, why didn’t you just tell me for god’s bloody sake?”

“We were trying to protect you. That guy has also been stealing from her. Nothing expensive but just personal objects. The pictures she had of you and your father in her purse were gone after the first meetup, for example.” A shiver ran down John’s spine. That was extremely creepy. Sherlock sighed and ran a hand over his face. He continued to explain the case. “It gets worse I'm afraid. He’s been involved with women that went missing after they met up with him.” Yup, it indeed got worse. John got goosebumps on his whole body and he wished that this was just a silly coincidence or a bad dream. But it wasn't.

“Who is he?” he finally managed to ask with a sigh and a slightly wobbly voice. Mariana took a quick look at her phone before answering that question. “His name is David Fisher. It’s his real name, Sherlock got that checked.”

“Wait... David Fisher? Why is that name familiar…” the doctor started pacing around the room restlessly while his roommate continued talking. “The police couldn’t find any evidence for his connection to the disappearances but I’m most certain that he has something to do with it. Can’t prove it yet, shame.”

Suddenly John turned around quickly and quite shocked. “Oh my… I know him!” He looked alternatingly at his two friends. “We need to leave now! Right now!”

***

He had always been different. Not by choice. Some people are simply born like that. Most of his time he spent alone, mainly because he was always a bit cleverer than the other kids and he just couldn’t understand the others. His parents were a lovely couple but drowning in work. So, they also had little time for their son.

Things didn't change when he finished high school. He had no difficulties in finding a place to study and even went to study his desired subject, biology. But still, he was very lonely and felt like he didn’t belong there. All the other students were so different and he just couldn’t understand them. And again, he spent most of his time alone studying in his room.

After completing his studies with a remarkable result, he was looking for jobs. But due to a lack of communication and social skills, thanks to him being along so much, he had quite a difficult time. Eventually, he found a job at a university’s cafeteria as a canteen worker and considered himself as an utter failure.

One day a young man with blonde hair and a football tricot came into the cafeteria. This guy sat down with his mates at a table not far from where he was working. He could hear every word they were saying. The young man’s name was John and seemed to have everything he didn’t have. John was studying medicine and had a small group of friends. He could see that this John was pretty socially awkward and yet his friends weren’t appalled by this. No, quite the contrary, they appeared to like him. And again it was something he couldn’t understand. All his life he had been like that and yet no one even bothered to get to know him. He was suddenly feeling very angry.

Many people came to the cafeteria every day. It could have been anyone but for some reason the blonde football tricot John wouldn’t leave his mind. And with that the anger and the jealousy. Why did he succeed at what I didn’t?

***

Luckily, Mariana had found out the address pretty quickly and now they were rushing down the street to get to the underground. On the way John tried to recall what he knew. “He worked in the canteen at university and that was his name, I believe.” They rushed down the stairs and barely made it into the right tube.

“The sort of person that tends to blend into the background and you don’t really notice them. We never even talked. Until one afternoon he attacked me out of nowhere, right there in front of everyone. Nothing happened really but he got fired for it none the less. Bollocks... I had completely forgotten about this.”

They made it in record time to the address and John nearly couldn’t believe his eyes when the door was finally opened. That was the man from the cafeteria all those years ago. The doctor recognized him despite him being much older now. “Are you David Fisher?” he finally managed to ask.

“Sure yeah. What’s the matter?” David seemed nervous now, fidgeting with his fingers. He had also realized who he just opened the door for. And just like the other man, he had a hard time believing that this was really happening right now.

“I’m John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes. Can we maybe come in?” David nodded and suddenly John felt very uneasy. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to go into this house but too late, no turning back now.

Walking into the house felt like a timelapse. Like a nightmare or one of those terrible crime series on BBC 4. On one of the countertops, John spotted the stolen pictures from his mom’s wallet. On the wall in the living room there was a collection of very few newspaper articles but somehow they were all about a certain soldier and now podcaster. David just stared at him with a blank expression and appeared almost calm. “Right...” John started but suddenly everything happened so fast.

David rushed forward towards the doctor and tackled him to the floor. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Not the way I planned it but…” He got cut off by Sherlock intervening and trying to get him down from his friend. Quickly the attacker recovered and despite him being almost 15 years older, he was able to fight off the two younger men.

For good ten minutes the living room was the scene of a battle before finally the police knocked down the front door and pulled the fighting men apart. Mariana appeared in the door frame. She waited outside and as she heard what was happening, she quickly called the police.

As David got escorted John watched him, exhausted from the fight and disturbed by the whole situation. “Why? Why me? Why my mother? Just... why?” he managed to ask, looking into the cold face of the man. There was not a single bit of regret. David simply answered: “I was unlucky enough to meet you.”

***

David Fisher had a pretty normal life after getting fired from the university’s cafeteria. He was devastated of course but much to his own surprise he pretty quickly found another work. Everything would've been just fine if he didn't get that text. A text he never should’ve read. But he couldn't help himself.

It was a newspaper article. Sent by a family member because a cousin was in it but on that picture was also the blonde football tricot boy. And David saw red. He made a vicious plan. He would get his revenge on John by getting to his mother first. And then he started to practice on the women that disappeared after he met up with them. But he was clever. The police never found anything concrete and so he walked free until the day John actually showed up at his house.

***

“Scary, it’s always the people you’d least expect it from.” Mariana broke the silence between them as they sat at an almost empty pub. The past few days had been complete chaos. John called a lot with his mom. To take their minds off things Mariana had invited the boys to the pub and they ended up staying there way too long.

“Yeah... you know, it was good that you took on the case. Even if you didn't tell me, which you totally should have, and I'm still slightly mad that you didn't, but... who knows what would have happened if you ignored my mother,” the doctor finally answered after a while. He was feeling better but certainly not completely fine yet.

“No,” Sherlock shook his head. “We should have involved you earlier. It was you who solved this case in a matter of minutes. It would have been way worse if you didn't snoop around Mrs Hudson’s phone.”

John wanted to be offended at first but then he just nodded and simply took a sip of his drink. The detective was right, of course. He knew he shouldn’t have but he was so glad he read that text.

[half-an-hour-hence]

Some random headcanons for the ghosts if they were alive today (part 3)

KITTY

She works at the supermarket with Thomas, and is the most positive and popular employee they have. She always dishes out compliments to every customer, and wishes everyone a good rest of their day. Also she has stickers and badges all over her name tag and lanyard.

Kitty and Mary have an allotment together. They grow their own vegetables and make delicious meals with their produce. Sometimes they make too much, so they give some to their friends to try.

She absolutely loves to do karaoke. Whenever everyone gets together for a night out, they always end up in some karaoke bar because Kitty insists. She gets the Captain to sing 90’s hits with her. She is very good and very loud, and the other half of the duet kind of mumbles his way through the song.

Kitty watches romance movies and reads romantic novels and then posts her reviews on social media. She has separate film reviewing accounts on both Twitter and Instagram, and she also frequently uses Letterboxd (she gives almost everything she watches 5 stars)

HUMPHREY

Humphrey also came into a lot of money through his family, however in contrast to Fanny he doesn’t work. But he is rather good at painting portraits, which he sells online.

He has an on and off relationship with his girlfriend, Sophie. I like to think that although their relationship is tumultuous at times, it’s a lot better than it was in the canon universe. This is mostly due to Robin’s friendship with Sophie, and the fact that he sat Humphrey down and had a long conversation with him, which has resulted in the nice, peaceful time that the couple are experiencing now.

He lives in turtlenecks in the winter. And he wears stylish, expensive sunglasses all year round (mostly to show off)

He likes to have a coffee with the Captain in Annie’s coffee shop. They meet up regularly to have a chat about their love lives, their jobs, and other people’s business.

PAT

Pat still works at the bank, but he’s also a part time delivery driver, as well as a scout leader. Although it’s a lot of work, he loves all of his jobs and never complains (except for scouts. He complains about scouts a bit).

He often gets his friends to help him organise unique activities for his scout group to do. Mary helps with Arts and Crafts, the Captain assists with Remembrance Evening, Robin brings kid-friendly experiments to try on Science Day, and Kitty organises the end of term celebrations. Pat is always grateful for their help.

He used to be married to Carol, but they got a divorce when he discovered that she was cheating on him with his best friend. He gets Daley on the weekends and sometimes over the half term holidays, and he always insists on spoiling his son with outings and gifts.

Pat collects memorabilia from different shows/movie franchises/bands from the 80’s. He has a large collection that’s actually worth quite a lot of money, but he would never sell any of it.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

He hasn't been himself

What -- we're still in S02E05 Chupacabra, and Daryl gets some stitches (courtesy of you), T-Dog teases you about calling that mangy hick so many pet-names, and you come face to face with your big brother Shane's descent into something that you're afraid of you don't recognize.

Relationships/ is there fluff? -- yes! found-family fluff and slowww-burn Daryl x Reader fluff

Perspective - 2nd you, 3rd Daryl at the end

When - right after Spell your last name, please. when Daryl is getting some medical attention after his very rough, hell of a day

Pronouns - neutral, y'all

TWs - some language, and light discussion of giving sutures (stitches), and Daryl's significant scarring (the result of child abuse) is mentioned

I always do my assigned reading, what chapters will help with context? XD -- all of them muahahahaha Start with souls stripped bare, then the Invisible, tugging strings Part 1 and Part 2, then of course Spell your last name, please.

is there a crappy screenshot of the mangy hick? -- yes, you'll be embarrassed on my behalf.

Masterlist -- Official One here, purely chronological one here :)

Have fun and happy reading!

You

Because Maggie and everyone else but Hershel and Rick are leaving the room, you use your uninjured side to take over maintaining pressure on Daryl's head wound.

That he wanted specifically you to stay made that strange, invisible string on your chest tug more. And that you had to curl your arm gently around him so you could press the rag down properly didn’t escape your notice. Neither was the way his hand just brushed against yours to take over for you.

While you’re waiting for the tugging string to give it a rest, Patricia mumbles to you that she’ll come back in to help clean Daryl’s head once Hershel gives the okay.

“Daryl, is this about what you found?” Rick asks.

“Hell yeah it is.”

More quietly, he wants to know “Would it be alright if Shane and Carol came in, too, or is it better if it’s just Shane?”

You think he means if what Daryl had to tell him was good or bad news regarding Sophia.

“You and Shane seem to be a package deal,” Daryl grunts in response.

“Like a BOGO sale,” is your unhelpful, dumb comment to yourself followed by a more helpful, “Oh snap, doc, his second bag is empty already,” when you see his IV fluids are drained again.

A blunt, “Remove it and bandage him,” answers that. “The wax for the needle point is in my kit.” Mr. Greene’s patience gauge is pointing to the E, that much is plain.

While you’re busy taking out the IV catheter (guess what!—this time you did the venipuncture and IV setup! You can do that now!) and pressing a gauze pad to the site, Rick lets your brother in.

Shane seems kinda terse when he hands over the search map and squats on the little ottoman.

Rick places the map on the bed in front of Daryl, then kneels down to face him.

Before anything is said, Mr. Greene points to the bloodied rag that Daryl is not pressing down like you’d directed. “Are you able to maintain firm, constant pressure, or will Rick have to assist you?”

“I can hold a rag,” he responds back in that…unpleasant way he’s got.

You make a face at him. Rudeness is bad enough, but 1.) rudeness to the host, 2.) to the host who’s offering medical care, and 3.) whose horse he’d stolen borrowed without asking and now lost, and 4.) who is about to teach you stitching, and 5.) was using/had used a ton of his own stock of medical supplies? Who 6.) also just lost a man he considered family because of helping your group, like dude?

Daryl. Use a tablespoon of that gentleness you got in there.

Hershel looks at you, and you hope he sees the apology in your eyes.

“Y/N, if you’re going to observe,” he begins, pulling the towel off Daryl’s back and putting it aside. “Wash your hands again with me in the chlorhexidine solution and position yourself on this edge of the bed, there.”

It sucks that you’re all out of gloves. You’ll have to add that to the supply list, along with IV fluid if possible. Fortunately, there was enough chlorhexidine as well as iodine to sanitize, plus the leftover doxycycline but don’t get you started on how that’s unsafe antibiotic use, there’s only so much you can do.

Under his breath, Hershel explains, “We used the clamp and forceps during the boy’s emergency, but they aren’t sterilized. Stitches are best done with a clamp, but as you can see, it will be just our fingers today.”

Thankfully, you have clamps in the med-bag, you’ll donate one.

“Shane, in the med bag, there's a small bag with blue stripes, in it are two clamps,” you call over. “Grab one for me?”

“Swirl it in the solution first,” Mr. Greene requests. “Y/N, did you observe the two times you were stitched, and when Theodore had his?”

“Not the first time.” You shake your head. “But I did watch when Teddy got his, when you did Carl’s, and when Miss Patricia redid mine earlier.”

“She what?” your brother cuts in.

You idiot, Y/N.

“Y/N, what happened that you got stitched up again?”

You’d not told him on purpose. It’s not like you did anything wrong in not telling him, but you immediately feel overheated and guilty as if you had.

You reach out to accept the clamp from him. “Yeah, she checked them earlier,” you do your best to reply in a way that would imply it as being a routine course of action. That didn't count as a lie, right?

Mr. Greene to the rescue: “Y/N, watch what I do, then copy it on your own when I say. I’ll guide you along.” He holds up a small packet. “This is called a swaged needle. There's no eye, the thread is part of the needle. An ordinary straight needle can be used, likewise regular thread, in an emergency, but ideally a curved and swaged is best for obvious reasons. Cleanliness would be a concern, for one.” He opens the packet, points to Daryl’s side.

You sit where he asks and look at Daryl’s wound.

Hershel continues: “We’ll do a simple continuous stitch, the pattern is straightforward. If Daryl pops them, then I suppose you’ll learn how to do interrupted suturing. It’s time-consuming, but more secure.”

That your eyes travel down Daryl’s back again isn’t intentional, but there they get stuck, the same way your eyes had gotten stuck staring at it earlier when you’d helped remove his shirt.

The poor man.

What you thought you saw earlier, back at the house, was correct. Scars. Very big ones.

It looks like the tattoos he’s got on his upper back are partially to cover/distract from some of them on the more visible places up near his shoulders and neck.

A lot more money for a lot more ink would’ve been needed to try concealing the rest of what that person did, those scars were very thick and wide. And no, an accident would not have made such specific scarring, unfortunately, how those got there had to have been deliberate. Scattered all around were cigarette burns, too, some in patterns.

Statistically, it was probably a parent or parental figure.

Mr. Greene’s hand passes over your line of vision as he calls your name. You blink out of it, see his finger wag as if to say ‘don’t look at them anymore.’

After wiping your eyes with your forearm so as to not contaminate your hands, he points to the spot and nods once. “Daryl, I’m going to begin. It will pinch, then burn. Stay still.”

You cringe as the needle goes in. The invisible string tugs when you see Daryl’s breathing pattern hitch and his muscles clench in discomfort. Your stomach tells your eyes to look away when the skin tugs as the needle exits and the thread is lightly pulled.

“Then use the tool to gently bring it across like so,” Mr. Greene murmurs, “going slowly with the thread.” He does two more, then pauses. “Alright, now take over.”

Already?

“Rest in peace, bud,” you joke, whether to ease Daryl or yourself. It’s an insane blessing you have the doxycycline, is all you’re saying.

Slowly you thread the needle, as smoothly as you can. You use a low angle to pull it all through and gently hold the skin down to reduce how much it pulls…oh my gosh, you’re giving sutures right now. “You have my leave to cuss me out if it’s hurtin’ too bad.”

“Ain’t nothing.”

“There’s that phrase, dude,” you quietly tease, focused on closing the wound and Mr. Greene’s silent guidance.

Daryl must be doing okay (or is toughing it out like a champ), because he starts to talk to Rick. “Right around here is where I saw the doll, see where the creek bends there?”

“Was it on top of the ridge, or down by the creekbed?”

“Creekbed, right near a waterfall. Spotted it from up top.”

“Was there a little camp or any tracks?”

“None that I saw. My guess is she was thirsty, but got her feet stuck in the mud and needed both hands to get out. Or somethin’ made her run again.” He stops pressing the rags to his head to look at the bleeding for a quick second.

Shane speaks up. “You run into any walkers by that spot there?”

“Yeah.”

“How many.” Not really a question.

You lose your focus for a moment, hearing his tone and being disappointed and a little frightened by it, so you pause the suturing. Breathe slowly and bite your tongue.

“Why? They friends of yours?” Daryl tosses at him, completely unphased even if dickish. You’re on his side with this one. “They wouldn’t have been a problem if I wasn’t stuck on my back with a bolt stickin’ out of me.”

Shane raises his eyebrows as if to say “See? Told you,” then licks his teeth but doesn’t say anything other than: “Yeah, so I just wanna be realistic about this. Think we all do.”

“Daryl, I’m all ears,” jumps in Rick, ever the decent human being diplomat. “Can you tell us more?”

Mr. Greene taps you and directs you to get back to it.

Daryl tells Rick, “I’m thinkin’ the doll flowed downstream a ways after the rains yesterday, see the area closer to the road, there? I’d check around there.”

“I’ll take some people there tomorrow.”

“Not now?”

“Sun’s going down.”

Without looking up as you resume your work, you know Daryl will understand. His own words were 'Out in the dark’s no good.'

Rick then points to the map. “This spot here?”

Daryl hums in agreement and nods at wherever he’d showed him. “She must have dropped it crossin’ there somewhere.”

Rick looks back at your older brother and tells him “Cuts the grid almost in half,” as if it were a plea.

And just as you and Mr. Greene finish stitching him back up, Daryl grates in the most unattractive way possible, “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Rick whips out his skill at de-escalation again. As poor Hershel has to quickly remind you to snip the suture from remaining thread in the packet (you legit forgot, so he does it for you), Rick turns the focus on the patient. “How’s he looking?”

“I had no idea we’d be going through the antibiotics so quickly.”

Fair enough.

Hershel then washes his hands again, so you do the same. “Any idea what happened to my horse?” he then states more than questions, in the way you might confront a teenager who left their dirty clothes on the kitchen floor after sports practice.

And God save him, that mangy hick has no shame. Caught red-handed, he still yips like a grumpy little coonhound, “Yeah, the one who almost killed me? If it’s smart, it left the country.”

You either just huffed, tutted, scoffed, groaned, or made all four at once. RIP invisible, tugging string.

Mr. Greene’s response implies his generosity, which makes you feel shame on Daryl’s behalf all the more. “We call that one Nelly. As in Nervous Nelly. I could have told you she’d throw you if you’d bothered to ask.”

Your friend says nothing back. He stays quiet, and simply twists onto his back and starts spacing out at the ceiling, pressing the rag to his head and looking as if he feels very small and very tired.

His eyes close—and you remember that he’s just been through hell and back. He almost died how many times today?

As annoyed and on-guard as he is, Mr. Greene was offering him due kindness and patience when he didn’t get overly short with him.

Still, the way the older gentleman next chides in the most graciously Southern way possible, “It’s a wonder you people have survived this long,” strikes you as having such dry comedic timing that now you’re the only one cracking up in a room full of uncomfortable people.

It doesn’t stay full of uncomfortable people for long; Shane and Rick see themselves out.

When the door opens, you spot Lori in her worried-position (on the floor with her knees curled toward her chest). As she leaps up from the floor to see Rick, you give her a little wave before the door is once more shut.

Quiet and stillness passes over the room. You breathe out. Breathe in.

Okay, it's probably just about time to clean up and bandage Daryl’s head.

You turn to see him still laying there on his back, eyes still closed. By the looks of it, he wanted to cover up; he’s pulled the side of the quilt over his stomach. You take the towel you’d used to give him some modesty earlier and gently drape it over his exposed abdomen.

But your big brother’s voice sounds through the door before you can do anything else.

The beginning of whatever he said, you don’t catch, but it doesn’t matter. You hear enough. “…Hershel on this one. Can’t keep goin’ out there, not after this.”

Rick is saying something back, but his voice is softer and you can’t make out as much of it. “Daryl” “risked,” and “first, hard evidence” gives you the gist, as does Shane’s response to him:

“That’s one way to look at it. Way I see it, Daryl almost died today for a doll.”

“Yeah, I know the way you see it.” Rick’s footsteps then fade down the hall.

On the other side of the door, your pulse thumps in your ears. Your breathing is faster than it should be.

Shaney still has that little girl written off?

“Y/N,” Mr Greene calls from the bedside.

Before you calm yourself down enough to turn to help Hershel, your brother starts talking again.

He’s whispering, but it’s still recognizable enough that you hear every word. “I’m not out to be a hard case, just bein’ realistic. He’s just gotta start making the tough calls.”

Shane's speaking to Lori, then?

His footsteps are moving down the hall, and you quietly open the door in time to hear him mutter, “You know I’m right.”

Door now open, your fist grips the knob and doesn’t let go.

“I may not agree with all his choices, but I respect him,” Lori states.

With all she's got going on, she shouldn’t have to deal with how much Shane has changed for the worse. In fact, in your gut you don't want your brother even near her, now that you know they’d been intimate. And that she’s pregnant…

You miss her first few words, but do hear “Your way isn’t harder, it’s…it’s the easiest thing in the world to cut our losses and to not help. You keep telling yourself you’re making the tough calls, you’re really just trying to justif—”

He cuts her off by mumbling, “—The only thing I care about now in this world is Y/N, you and Carl. So I, apologize if I appear to be insensitive to the needs of others, but see, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the three of you safe.”

His words aren't a put-on, that's what alarms you. You know what smooth or schmoozy Shane sounds like; but that there was genuine.

Lori calmly shakes her head and walks toward him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Even abandoning a lost child?” she prompts. “Really?”

She sounds like she expects Shane to snap out of it and think better on it. To remember his goodness.

But.

To the woman that his best friend since childhood married, and in the context of not caring about a missing, abused child, your brother instead tilts his head and offers Lori a small grin.

He’s…he just flirted with her.

Lori takes a step back.

Her back tightens, her head bows slightly. “My son and I are not your problem anymore. Or your excuse." She turns away. "As for Y/N, they’d be horrified to hear y—” she cuts off as you loose your grip on the doorknob, making noise, causing her to finally notice you standing there.

“You’re right, Lore, they would be,” you drawl, voice soft. “Sh-Shane, get out.”

Whatever he starts responding with, you don’t give a fuck, your softness vanishes as you growl back, “Get. Out.”

You link your good arm into Lori’s and take her down the hall to Carl’s room. She stops you from plowing through the door by holding you by the waist. You take a moment, turn toward her.

She looks you in the eyes and shakes her head, silently mouthing “Please.”

“I won’t,” you mouth back. Still, under your breath, you do stress “B-but he, he needs a leash. Rick can leash him.”

She looks into your eyes but says nothing back.

As soon as the door is open, your words charge out, “Ricky, Shane needs—

“—Mom! Y/N! Mr. Dixon found Sophia’s doll! The one Eliza gave her!” interrupts Carl, (crying and) grinning so wide that your cheeks are getting sore just looking at it.

You take in the room.

Carol and T-Dog are there along with Rick. Lori goes to her son, takes his hands and kisses them, Beth scoots in behind you holding three glasses of water.

Seeing your nephew helps you remember yourself, and you begin to smile back. Your lip wobbles. “He found her doll, little dude.”

Some tears decide to fall when you take a moment and lean against the wall.

Shane is scaring you.

You are frightened of your own brother.

And no, it's not just how he's been after Otis got killed, he hasn’t been himself. He’s scaring Lori, you saw it just now—and this is before he even knows about the new baby, oh my God how are you going to fix this? God, Shane doesn’t even care—doesn’t understand—that a clear sign of Sophia was found today.

And, and he doesn’t care about anyone else here, either, not even about Rick? “The only thing I care about in this world is Y/N, you and Carl.”

If that was really just him trying to flirt or whatever, you aren’t sure whether you’re more disgusted that he claimed to not care about jack-shit else to do it, or that he was saying something that awful not only to flirt but to flirt with a married woman. His best friend’s wife.

That you’re at Rick’s side and murmuring low, “Shane’s a problem,” doesn’t register in your head until he’s replying with what’s pretty much a platitude: “He’ll see reason.”

Even coming from Rick, it doesn’t comfort you.

“But how to we fix it?” you whisper. “Ricky, it’s like I can’t see him anymore. I’m gettin' scared of h—” you stop what you’re saying, a little alarmed that you just started to confess it out loud.

Rick is quiet.

“He hasn’t been himself,” he admits.

Lori’s whispering cuts in, “Honey, w-what are you two talking about?”

You figure she’s scared that you’re telling Rick more than is your business, so you subtly shake your head, then ask “Lore, have you noticed Shane ain’t been himself?”

The expression on her face is controlled. “He hasn’t been.” And she turns to sit back down beside her son and takes one of his hands into hers.

Rick rubs your arm a few times, and nothing else is spoken.

Whatever, you need to get back.

You’re supposed to be helping patch Daryl up, not hiding moping in here like some idiot bitch.

Cursing yourself that not only did you admit to being scared of your brother, but that you’re scared at the possibility he’s still in the hallway, you hold your injured side to lessen the pain when you bend down to peck a kiss on Carl’s forehead. “I’m headin’ off, baby, to help with Mr. Dixon,” you mumble in goodbye.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You turn back around to see Carl giving you his—sneaky grin? Why, what’s he about to rag you about? “Mr. Douglas told me you called Daryl ‘baby’ like a hundred times after he fainted.”

“That ain’t true,” T-Dog cuts in. “Y/N, I’m sorry, he’s mistaken.” He turns to Carl.

Wait up, T-Dog’s doing his pout thing he does before teasing somebo—

“First off, Y/N was at it before he even passed out.”

*sigh*

“And it wasn’t just ‘baby’, it was also ‘honey’, ‘sweetheart’ and ‘sugar.’ Oh yeah, and ‘mangy hick,’ gotta admit that one threw me.” He makes a particularly wide smile in your direction. “Can’t remember if they also called him ‘darlin’ or not, though.”

“However many times Y/N called him a sweet name, Mr. Dixon deserved every one and more,” Carol softly tells the room.

As for you, you must feel lighter, because now you’re smiling, too.

What's better, you’ve thought of a way you’ll feel safe comfortable if Shane’s still in the hallway (that won’t include taking Rick, because you’re pretty sure Lori needs him to feel safe comfortable right now).

“Theodore, will you walk me back to darlin’ baby sugar sweetheart Daryl’s room, please?”

“Walk you a whole six yards down the hall?”

“Please," you ask him more urgently than you'd intended.

He might could've noticed, because he quickly stands and goes to the door with you. "I'ma charge you for this, though."

"Naturally, how many of my jewels will it take?" you joke.

"You gotta call him 'mangy' again for me."

You snort so hard it makes your new stitches hurt. That's the easiest possible exchange he could've made. "Deal."

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

Him

When he heard from outside the door their soft, “Thank you, Teddy,” his muscles relax again.

He’d been worried. Last thing he knew, Shane must’ve been saying some bullshit, ’cause Y/N had dead-ass growled at him to “Get. Out.”

After two knocks, a pause, and a “Daryl, it’s me,” he realizes he’s gotta call back, “You’re good,” so they’d come in the room. Usually people knock and just bust in, it was real nice to have someone wait until he said it was cool.

He’s damn relieved they’re back and doing okay. Other than worried about whatever crap their brother was slinging around them, he’d felt…small, and, and naked without them in there. Now that they’re back, he feels safe, like he’s got clothes on again.

It’s the total opposite of earlier that morning, when he’d felt like Y/N had seen too much of him, and him too much of them. Didn’t feel like that no more.

“Well, you’re still lookin’ nice and mangy, so I guess I haven’t missed much,” his friend jokes, then shuts the door behind them.

Why did they just make a face to whoever was out in the hallway?

“Where’d Mr. Greene go?”

Daryl grunts, unsure.

Y/N sinks into the little footrest by the window. “We’ll get you some dinner in about an hour, okay, sugar?”

Another pet name, another weird feeling in his stomach and chest.

His friend stares out the window and massages their shoulder and neck. “Oh, are you thirsty?”

That he can answer. “The opposite.”

“Ah, let me help you get up—wait, maybe let’s wait for Patricia or the doc to get back, just in case. Can you hold it?”

He just grumbles back. Ain’t like he’s two years old, of course he can hold it. "What's the deal with your brother? Heard him mouthing off."

"Yeah. He, um, he ain't been himself." Y/N grimaces as if there was a bad taste in their mouth, then covers their face, sighs, and changes the subject. “Should we might call today ‘rough,’ or pick a different adjective?”

No idea. Today was…“Today was somethin’ else.”

“Whoa, we’re going hardcore.”

He starts to crack up, which is how he learns that now, laughing makes his head and side ache.

“Crackin' up hurt, didn’t it?” they guess correctly.

A grunt passes as his “yes.”

His friend breathes in slowly, out just as slow. “When you’re up and at ’em again, I’m taking you with me to go light all the candles at that little church to help thank the heavens you got home alive.”

…he feels all warm and can hear his pulse again, what gives? Like, it’s just that he’d imagined Y/N talking about his coming “home” safe, it’s just weird it’s coming up again in real life. Not a bad weird, but still.

“Well,” they scrunch their nose and stare into space, “‘home’ might be different than the usual definition, but you know what I mean. You got back alive to us after all that, it’s—I dunno, God’s got plans for you yet, dude.”

Hadn’t had a friend say stuff like that to him before, so he just lays there like a beanbag.

Y/N is still still staring into space. “And like, all afternoon I had this tense…dread, that you were hurt. Kept explainin' it away, with a quick prayer just in case.” A chuckle. “We’ll bring Carol and Sophia with us when we go light those candles, deal?” Then they give him a look he can’t translate. “Right-o, bud, let me see that side of yours, I wanna admire my handiwork.”

Standing up with a wince, they walk to him. When he begins to slowly twist back onto his side, they stop him and tell him to stay comfortable. His stomach gets all funny again when he partly pulls aside the towel covering his abdomen and his friend gets close.

Y/N starts to put their hip on the bed, then pauses. “Does it hurt you when the bed jostles, baby?”

His stomach goes all funny again. He’s, um, he’s hungry… “You’re good.”

And not a moment after sitting on the bed and exhaling does Y/N groan and start to jabber, “Oh, Moses, I just did it again, look how red you got. Tell me, did you feel redder when you knew how many of us were crowded around you like seagulls on french fry, or when I kept callin’ you pet names? T-Dog’s been poking fun at me for it.”

He…grunts again. It’s, um, he isn’t really sure what else to do, this isn’t a conversation he knows how to tackle. Hadn’t had a friend who called him a ton of pet-names while taking care of him after he’d pin-balled down a ridge twice and got a bolt lodged in his side and fought off two zombie bastards after dreaming up a conversation with Y/N and Merle.

Now Y/N is looking at him in the way they usually look at Glenn before they goof off together. “Wanna compare yours and mine right quick before they get back?”

Well, he hums this time instead of grunts, so that counts as conversation.

“Carl and I joked that we have temporary, sewn-in friendship bracelets. You’re in the club now, too, welcome!” They lift their shirt slowly, blocking the rest of their belly with their arm. Their stitches are up by their ribs aaaaaannd why are Daryl's goddamn cheeks feeling hot again?

“We both have white nylon thread. Carl got blue, though, real fancy,” Y/N says, cute smile on their face.

“He showed me his when I talked to him last night, actually.”

With a giggle, they nod. “Of course he did.”

The front door to the house opens, and the muffled voices of Dr. Farmer and Patricia sound outside the closed bedroom door.

Y/N looks back and forth from their stitches to his, then mumble to themself, “Miss Patricia definitely gave me a different stitch, check out the variations.”

Daryl couldn’t tell from the angle he was in, to be honest, but…“Yeah, mine are way better.”

Y/N deserves a compliment. And, dunno, he’s not an expert, but his side is probably sewed together nice. It’s not like it's still bleeding, right?

Y/N almost misses it. “Hey, the stitches Patricia gave me are grea—ohh.” Their face lights up, and they bop him on the arm. “Aww!”

Daryl feels the corners of his mouth raise. His shoulders relax.

Dr. Farmer Mr. Greene calls from the hall, “I’m opening the door,” and finally walks back in with Patricia.

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

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[thebreakfastgenie]

I have a “ West Wing” question for you. I know you’ve been critical of Donna’s season 6 story line, but I had a thought. Do you think part of her resentment was about the fact that she was in love with Josh, and he hadn’t made a move? I guess just don’t think her anger towards him was 100% professional. I think there was some personal mixed in there too.

Yes, I very much think it was! I actually think that arc makes the most sense if you frame at as Donna actually wanting a "promotion" to Josh's girlfriend, but because neither one of them is capable of talking about their feelings like adults and instead use their professional relationship as a proxy for the romantic relationship they both want, it manifests as her seeking a promotion at work. That's juicy and delicious!

My main issue with that storyline is the narrative framing; the show, via various other characters, acts as if Donna is objectively overqualified for her current position and Josh has done her a disservice by not promoting her sooner. This does not make sense! Donna's entire resumé is working for Josh, she has no formal education and no formal qualifications that predate him. Executive assistant is also a position that some people spend their entire careers in. No one says Carol or Bonnie or Ginger is overqualified for their jobs, which they've had just as long as Donna, and Carol at least is seen doing similarly substantive work for CJ as Donna does for Josh.

I think it's a good character choice for Donna to decide she doesn't want to spend her entire career as an assistant, but there really isn't a career path for her within the White House and it isn't reasonable to expect one. If the storyline were Donna wanting to leave to get into more direct political work and asking Josh for a reference and Josh freaking out about it, leading Donna to go to Will who hired her without it because he has his own issues going on with Josh, I would like that! The ingredients are all there, it's just the execution. If I were a happier person I would focus more on the "Donna wants Josh to make a move" part, but my lot in life is to be miserable about how much better I think season 6 could have been.

Also while I am sympathetic to Donna wanting Josh to make a move, I think their relationship is often shown in an unfairly one-sided way. Bradley Whitford will go on about Josh being "emotionally constipated," but Donna isn't honest about her feelings either. They're both unwilling to do anything about the fact that they're in love with each other, that's what makes it so fun!

[anundyingfidelity]

TRUST — Talos

Summary: Barely learning about the Skrulls living among humans, you know deep down Earth is a dangerous place for them. Talos doesn't think the same.

Pairing: Talos x female reader.

Word count: 694.

Notes: Secret Invasion 1x02 spoilers, we're just 3 people watching but still. Mentions of Talos' deceased wife and G'iah.

(I had to do something quick for Talos, yikes. Sorry for the typos or any errors).

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

"Have you lost your damn mind?!"

Talos sighed. "That's what Fury said..."

"He's right!"

"Listen, I had to do something. I had the chance to make the call and I did it."

You tried to laugh it off, sipping on your glass of water and putting it back into the sink.

"This is ridiculous."

"What? That we've been looking for a place to call home for three decades?" Talos snapped back.

"No! Of course not- forget it," this was your turn to sigh heavily. "I'm sorry, it's been a wild day... I didn't expect you here. Any of this."

The skrull, in his human form, came closer to you, standing by the kitchen island. He decided to see you after his small discussion with Fury. It wasn't on his plans to tell him his secret that way, but Talos understood his displeasement. So he decided to look for you, even if it was dangerous to come by your place, he still felt the need to see you again. An old friend, if that's what you could call it.

"You're the next person I trust," his voice came hardly as a whisper. You locked eyes with his own, filled with a little hope. Hope that you'd wish you had.

"I'm not Carol Danvers. And I am not Fury, I was barely behind Maria... and she's gone."

Hesitating, Talos reached for your hand, and your skin was soft and warm, as he always remembered. Years passed since you decided to be something. Something that had not worked. You left for SHIELD missions around the world and Talos was busy, either assisting Fury or looking for his own people, and now you knew. You knew why he disappeared sometimes for weeks, months even. Not to mention his daughter, who had a difficult time after her mom passed away. It wasn't going well. Somehow, Talos also had to let go of his now gone wife. Get over the grief, and until today, that was still difficult.

"There has to be something... A peaceful manner to be free, get a new place, or be here- I know it."

A bittersweet smile was on your lips.

"You know, I always admired your courage. And the faith you put on us, humans, because a lot of us lost that already."

Talos shook his head, standing even closer to your figure if it was possible. "No, you don't see what I see on them."

"Talos, humans can't stand each other. People can't tolerate different religions, skin colors, or cultures... You've seen the wars and catastrophes around the globe. We can't stand the solely existence of each other. Do you think they will see you like I do?"

Maybe, just maybe, you were getting in his head. But he was foolish, centuries foolish and he still thought humans and skrulls could co-exist. You waited for Talos to speak, but his words never came out.

"Do you, really, think this beautiful of us?" you asked again.

"I do," he said. "I do because I know you."

He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, and you'd be lying if you say you didn't miss his touch.

"As much as I love to hear that, I'm afraid not everyone is like me..."

A silence embraced both of you, in the loneliness of your kitchen. Suddenly, Talos started to think what could have been. If destiny would have been able to give both of you the chance you needed... Maybe G'iah would be here, with you – as her mother figure – and him like an almost normal family, and not joining the rebellion, risking her life.

"I only ask you to trust me like I trust you," Talos whispered against your lips.

"You're asking way too much... but I can try."

Softly, you caught his lips in a kiss. A kiss you both desired to happen since a long time ago, and you wished it would never end to stay then and there forever. His embrace was too comfortable to escape.

"Just tell me where are you going and I'll follow," you said after pulling away. He smiled, beautifully, exactly how you remembered him.

"Thank you."