#i’m in mourning nobody talk to me

[calebsdume]

goodbye goodbye goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky

[whyisntketchupasmoothie]

i did something bad rep tour performance you will always be famous

[vulcannic]

david zaslav you will begin to have explosive diarrhea in 3 days

[slightoffoot]

I fully reject canon Nureyev past season three. That is NOT my #1 pathetic twink that is Someone Else.

fuck that dude fr.

[littlemissmeggieseviltwin]

i will be inconsolable if steve dies

[gremlin-pattie]

nobody talk to me I’m in mourning

Edit: STOP TELLING ME IT WORKS FOR YOU. all the official domains have been shut down. if it works for you, you’re on a copycat site.

[kafkasmuses]

the last days of judas iscariot — luke castellan + reader : betrayal hurts the saints the most. 

tags : mdni, dark!luke, angry kissing, religious imagery & symbolism, body worship, angst and smut, love confessions, p in v sex, corruption kinks, implied blood kink, hints of cannibalism

there was something off about luke castellan. 

he used to be caring, sweet and selfless— he did everything for the people around them, offered them smiles even if it was difficult on his lips, did anything to ease their pain, built himself up into a saint. but eventually, saints will fall, whether it be their own doing, or a martyrdom. 

this was no martyrdom, he was not crucified, strung up on an olive tree, nor stoned. 

this was a conscious decision that nobody else, besides his own self, would understand. it was so, so unlike him, luke was never one to betray the people around him, well, at least he didn’t portray himself that way. if you really knew luke, you’d know how much he hated the gods, he felt as though he was a despicable creation of theirs, and he’ll return the same despising looks. 

but the story starts days before that, luke was as he always was. he offered you a smile from across the training field, and you returned it full - heartedly, waving at him. he moves to approach you, ignoring his sparring partner, “hey, do you need a partner?” 

you glance around for a second, “don’t you already have one?” 

his lips curve to a smirk, “i’d rather be with you.” 

luke castellan had a thing for flirting with you, even if he was just being a tease, and didn’t entirely mean what he said— sometimes you thought he didn’t, or he never did, but in all honesty, he meant everything. 

he admired you beyond proper comprehension, and you did the same with him. having been friends for years, it was no shock when your gazes would linger on each other for longer than they should, when he would do anything to make you smile even if it costs him his reputation. 

on the first day, luke was as he always was, confident, grinning and sweet. 

then the second day came, and luke’s smiles began to fade faster, he looked more tired, there was a certain mournful air that clung to his skin and radiated off of him. you picked up on it immediately, frowning at him and pulling him off to the side even when he was busy, “are you okay?” 

“what?” his saliva feels thick in his mouth, like globs of nectar that feel poisonous underneath their sweet skin. 

“i said— luke, what’s going on?“ you can’t deny how he seems to be out of order on everything, he was even fighting angrier, too, with a revengeful glint in his eye. 

“i really, really don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“yes, you do.” 

and it only got weirder from there, on the third day, he looked straight up exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the past two nights, and now he was being told to take a break from sword fighting because of how rough he was being. smiles were common from him now but cut off quick, and laughs became rare. he wasn’t trying to make anyone else around him smile or laugh, and he always just looked angry, guilty angry. 

when you waved at him, he didn’t wave back, nor approach you. 

he didn’t want to speak to anyone, so he just didn’t talk. 

he’s suffering from something, you just don’t know what, and whenever you asked him, he shrugged it off with, “i’m just tired.” 

“i know, you look really tired, luke, do you need melatonin?” 

his teeth grit together, and the taste of nectar in his mouth had disappeared, now it was all just bitter poison, “i need to be left alone.” 

“luke—“ 

“please leave me be.” 

if anyone were to ask you now, they’d know you regret leaving that night, not forcing him to speak about it with you. the next night, another camper told you about what luke had done, and you hate the way you don’t feel entirely shocked, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

luke castellan had a fig tree branching out in front of him, so many possibilities, so many stories to be told, and yet his fingers wrapped around the only rotten fruit on the whole ripe tree. two thousand years ago, there was a man exactly like luke, one who went by the name judas, and in luke’s complete distaste of the bible and anything to do with it— he found himself undeniably following the same path of the man who betrayed jesus. 

“ i desire the things

that will destroy me

in the end ”

  — sylvia plath. 

it was a bad idea to seek out luke that night, you knew it well, and luke knew it too when he frowned at you almost immediately after seeing you. he was still in the woods, only alone now, closer to the shore, closer to the riper fig that called his name— the one labeled captain. 

“why are you here?“ his tone is sharper, harsher, but you don’t shy away. 

“why’d you do it?” you watch him visibly swallow at the question, as if he doesn’t want to answer it, even when it’s on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason it would hurt to say out loud. 

he bites the bullet, “you know— the gods, they’re awful, don’t you think they deserve this?“ 

“is that where your heart lies?” the question seems to scorch his skin more than the last, because it’s just a continuous waking to what he’s truly done, how the prophecy haunts him even in his desperate attempts to evade it. 

“i’ve suffered enough, because of them, because of him— so yes, that is where it lies.” 

“you think your suffering is just a one way street?” you pester, anger bubbling in your veins— this was selfish, entirely selfish, he was never the selfless man you once knew, this wasn’t the luke you knew, “it’s not, it wasn’t— you had the chance, luke, to deprive yourself from it.” 

“are you just here to lecture me?” luke’s jaw locks. 

“why are you being like this?” 

luke’s eyebrow twitches, as if he’s mentally debating saying it out loud, but albeit all odds, his lips part, “why don’t you ask that guy you’ve been hanging out with?” 

“what?” it’s hard to realize certain things when you’ve been so focused on one person, you were so caught up on your fears for luke you didn’t even realize that the whole time you were thinking of him, you were blatantly speaking with another man in front of his eyes. 

to the trained eye, they’d know you never had any real feelings for the man you spoke with, but luke was too blinded by his own guilt and resentment that he didn’t realize it himself. it was a wild string of miscommunications formed into a single spider’s web, exactly like judas’ betrayal of jesus. 

INTERLUDE : JUDAS ISCARIOT ( A STUDY ) 

judas iscariot is often portrayed as the traitor in the story, fueled by greed and his resentment that jesus has something he never will. in the original story, judas is put in the narrative as satan’s pawn, judas’ fate is already written down, and he has no way of pushing it back. satan selects him from a group as he is weak, easily moved, and satan had possessed him body and soul and lived out his personal purpose through the vessel. 

the son of perdition : the one doomed to destruction. 

god personally protected all of his other saints from satan, so why not judas? why was judas never enough? was he never righteous enough to be saved? jesus loved him, jesus held his face in his holy hands, and yet he never shielded him. 

judas is a pawn, a thief, a coward, and a denier of the lord. 

judas, in all fairness, is the spitting image of luke castellan. 

“is it ever anybody else, luke?” 

as if arrow met skin, luke’s brows furrow together like you’ve hit him. 

there’s a pause, a deafening silence. 

“i miss you,” you speak again. 

luke’s nose crinkles, “uh-huh.” 

“i miss you, luke.” 

luke castellan is going to hell tonight, he’s going to be scorched in the underworld, so he bites his tongue and he moves in. the kiss is angry, teeth clashing, tongues twisting, lips bruising, but luke wouldn’t want it any other way. he wonders that if, in this kiss, do you forgive him? having been someone praised by the gods, the favored one, did you forgive the one who seemingly betrayed them to most? 

the kiss says how could you? and i’m sorry at the exact same time. 

his hands are quick to grip on your skin like you were his lifeline, tugging you in closer, and smiling against your lips when you melt into his touch so easily. you knew how cruel of a man he was, all the things he did wrong, all the people he had hurt— and yet you’re easing against him like he’s a saint. 

his teeth show his hunger well, nipping at your lip until you hiss and pull away with blood bubbling from a fresh wound. at first, he wants to smile, but he finds some mercy, moving his hand to hold your chin, thumb smudging the blood, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to, swear.” 

you knew he was lying, you knew he wanted to see you bleed, he liked the way your skin trembled under his touch, the way that even when shock dilates your pupils— you don’t want to pull away from him. in fact, something about it is oddly attractive to you, how sick is that. 

his other hand grips your waist, fingers curling cruelly, “could i..” 

undress you? touch you? luke isn’t sure of the proper words, they sit on the tip of his tongue, but something has him too afraid to say it so bluntly. that’s ironic, considering he didn’t hesitate to steal and lie. luke was still the loser he’s always been, deep down, he’s never known how to actually speak to women. 

you knew this well, it was something you always made fun of him for, but now you only smile sweetly at him. “of course, luke.” 

luke’s hands are desperate when they move to take off your clothes, quick and ruthless, but still so caring at the same time. it was confusing with luke, everything he did had two different sides that would merge together in an unlikely unison. harsh and gentle, bitter and sweet, mean and kind. 

his brows furrow when he dips in, pressing his lips to the skin of your neck, pushing you back into the scratching bark of the tree behind you. adam and eve, right after the bites of the apple offered to them. luke wants to sink his teeth into you, to bite until he draws blood, to devour you whole and call you his. 

that’s… normal, right? 

he doesn’t care, he’s only focused on the shallow breaths that pass by your lips with every scrape of his teeth on the skin being pulled between his lips. his fingers lead themselves further, dipping below the waistband of your underwear and further until you’re gasping and gripping at his wrist. 

“luke.. luke,” you plead, whimpering out for his fingers to have some mercy on your clit— luke ignores you, focused on the pleasure that’s coursing underneath your skin. he memorizes the thump of your pulse against his lips on your neck, the way it speeds up when his fingers dare to graze your entrance. you want it so bad, and it’s taking everything in luke to not be a cocky asshole about it. 

he eventually pulls away from your neck to admire his work, “have you always wanted me to touch you like this?” 

there’s something so poetic about someone who has betrayed the gods you love the most, ruining you. you truly could be awarded for how much you worshiped them, so unlike to everyone around you. they thought their parents were like anybody else, albeit just a little cooler, but you— you felt like a prophet. 

maybe you were, maybe luke was. 

maybe when the oracle whispered the prophecy she mentioned the fall of a saint, and the way he tugged another down with him. 

you look at him fondly, lips parted and puffy from biting, “always.. please.” 

please ; a simple plea, but it makes luke grin like a devil. his eyes follow your hands when you move to undo his belt, tugging at his jeans as if his fingers aren’t making your knees buckle. luke licks his lips, and finally allows you some mercy when his fingers leave your underwear, although you frown from the loss of friction. “i’ll make it up to you, yeah?” 

luke’s boxers and jeans are falling to the floor in seconds, he stifles a chuckle at your shocked expression to his size, only growing cockier and cockier with each second of this ordeal. it reaches it’s peak when he’s pushing into you, hand on your thigh holding up your leg with ease. 

his nose brushes against your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in between faint grunts with each thrust. you’re so pretty, always dreamed of this, better pray the gods aren’t watching. the last comment should piss you off, but it doesn’t, not at all— in fact, it only makes you wetter, the idea that the people you have given everything for are watching you being fucked by someone who despises them. 

his free hand moves up to your neck, wrapping around the bruised skin there, and gripping it enough to barely constrict your air flow. 

due to the choking, and the force of his thrusts, along with all his taunting words, it doesn’t take long for you to cum on his dick— and he doesn’t last long either. 

he finds himself panting against you, slowly pushing out. 

“you really should pray for forgiveness.” 

[thebramblewood]

For a brief moment in her eternal existence, Lilith was well and truly shook.

Previous / Next

[incessant pounding at door]

Lilith: It’s nearly sunrise! Who would be calling at such an ungodly hour? [expectant pause] Fine. I suppose I’ll answer it then. Helena? [immediately composes self] Well, isn’t this an unexpected pleasure?

Helena: Let’s get one thing straight, Lilith Vatore. I’m only here as a last resort. I won’t let you have your way with me. Caleb warned me about you.

Lilith: [bemused smirk] Oh? So that’s what’s been keeping him busy.

Helena: [barreling forward] And I read your book. You don’t come off well.

Lilith: It’s hardly my book. That journalistic hack is the bane of my existence. No one alive still cared about the Vatore name until he started nosing around. I’d kill him, but it'd just make more trouble than it’s worth.

Helena: How can you talk about it so casually?

Lilith: What?

Helena: Killing people!

Lilith: Because it’s what vampires do. It’s as natural to us as breathing, darling.

Helena: Caleb doesn’t kill people, does he? I don’t think he even drinks blood.

Lilith: Caleb, bless his heart, is a miserable fucking sadsack. Clinging onto one’s humanity is a thankless task, one he’s bafflingly decided is his personal cross to bear. But we’re above humanity now, Helena. We’re elite. We’re supernatural. Nobody can fucking touch us. Our power is limitless, so long as guilt doesn’t get in the way.

Helena: I’m not interested in power. I didn’t ask for any of this. Are you even sorry for what you did?

Lilith: Of course! I thought you were dead until five minutes ago, and I have been mourning the loss.

Helena: [scoffs in disbelief] For yourself maybe. You didn’t give a shit what happened to me. I have no future because of you!

Lilith: Oh, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’ll make a remarkable vampire someday. I can sense it. I understand you and Caleb have been… bonding. While you’re here, though, you may as well learn from both of us. You might be surprised whose lessons you prefer.

Helena: We’ll see about that.

Lilith: Make yourself comfortable. If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a little chat with my dear brother.

[azullumi]

“heart to heart” ; ayato, cyno, diluc

summary — he could only watch as you die ; alternatively, he’s there to comfort and hold you as you take your last breath.

characters — ayato, cyno, and diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — angst but not that heavy but not that light also, grammatical errors bcs i don’t like to proofread, established relationship ; scenario/one-shot

words — 1460

note — this is part 1 out of 2 !! here’s the next part with a different set of characters <33

;; AYATO

“—and i want a garden full of tulips.” you declared, a smile creasing the line of your lips, and he admires you ever so lovingly while listening to each one of your words. “why a garden only? we could have a mansion overlooking the sea.”

a hum escapes your lips as you think of his answer, “but mansions are huge and often lonely. i want a home, a warm one, big enough for us and our children and i want a garden where they can play.”

he smiles, gently, eyes gazing at you as if you’re the most lovely thing he has seen and you really are—the moonlight dances and rests on your skin, emitting a soft glow on your features, and you look much more breathtaking than ever. “we can be the ones to plant the tulips,” he elicits a light laughter from you, “mhm, we definitely should.”

it is late now, the both of you are a little bit tired resting underneath the sky peckered with stars. and right now, in the past, and future, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he—

“i love you, ayato.”

his breath hitched, like his heart has crumbled at his hands, you were there bloody and withering away on his hands, like a flower that had cut off its stem. and just like how quickly the world can be created out of three words, it shattered right at his hold.

“please don’t say that.” his voice breaks, faltering, compared to the tight hold he has on you as he desperately wishes that this warm embrace can help you even for a little bit. “why?”

not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you aren’t supposed to die like this, you weren’t supposed to leave him, not right now, not ever—not when he still hasn't accomplished all of the things you two have talked about underneath the night sky.

“you’re saying that as if you’re going to die.”

you chuckle, “because i am.”

“this isn’t the time to be joking around.” but he knows the reality of it, he just refuses to accept it. “what about our plans?” he knows it from the way you struggle to find the words in your tongue, from the way you smile at him as you listen to his voice coming apart, “what about the tulips? the garden? you promised me,” from the way your breathing slows down and eventually—

“i… i’m sorry.”

—it stills.

a brief moment of silence and a broken sob came, “you promised me…” that you’ll be there, that you’ll plant the tulips with him. “i love you,” that’s why he mourns for you and the promises you made.

;; CYNO

“i think that’s all of them?” you walk over to his side, feeling the soreness of your body hit you. bodies were found laying all around you but they weren’t dead, just knocked out as if they still have to be taken in for questioning.

“yes but nevermind that, are you hurt?” he asks him in a flat tone, despite the nature of his words, worry didn’t lace his tone. “it’s not that bad,” you say but half of your body feels numb, your side is damp, aching as it continues to bleed—it’s just a small wound.

you weren’t going to die even if your line of work requires you to be put in danger at times, you will never die for anyone, you’ve sworn that to yourself. it may be a selfish idea but you had promised yourself that you will always choose yourself because no one can be more than you. your existence is way too important for someone else’s to have it for their own—nobody can and nobody will.

but not the general mahamatra, not your love, not him as you willingly took a hit for him which left you at this state but he doesn’t know the severity of your situation as you chose to hide it. you didn’t want the man to worry—you were selfish not until it came to him.

your vision blurs and you feel your head spin.

“cyno—“

it happened so fast. you, suddenly collapsing to the ground and him, calling out to you as he towards your direction to catch your collapsing figure before it hits the cold floor.

he cursed underneath his breath, panic washing over him as he noticed your wounded side, covered with blood and it was then that the realization had dawned upon him—you were severely hurt since earlier and he just wants to berate himself, not you, for being so careless and ignorant.

“no matter what happens, don’t you ever dare risk your life for me.”

he trembles, recalling those words in his mind. it was you who had told him that and yet, you’re here, “keep your eyes open.” he pleads in a broken tone.

“i’m sorry…” you try to fight off the growing feeling of your eyes becoming heavy and your slow breathing, fighting off the ominous being cloaked in black standing at your foot. you weren’t going to die, you promised yourself.

you were getting weaker so is the sound of your voice, your vision seems to blur and darken in each moment that passes by and oh god, how much you fear not being able to see his face, not being able to see him completely in your last moments with him—thoughts came drifting in and out of you, asking what kind of expression does he have at this moment. does he still have that same calm expression you adored?

you coughed once more, fading eyes looking for the warmth of his own, “i love you, cyno, from the first time we met until forever. remember— remember that.”

“s-stay with me.” a command, but his breaking voice fails the firmness of his words, his tone could only be so soft as he spoke. “don’t you—don’t you dare close your eyes, that is an order.”

but the light of your eyes had already disappeared and at that moment, not only you had died but also him as you breathed out your last—even in death you still held his heart.

;; DILUC

“a hug, please?” you beckon with your arms wide open for him as you sit on the edge of the bed, your bed and his. the red-headed man only smiled before

“why do you need a hug all of a sudden?”

you hum, “nothing, i just want to feel you.” and in which, he huffs out a chuckle, “you can feel me as much as you want, my love.”

he could spend his life just with you in his embrace alone. oh, how he would choose to be alive by your side over anything, over everything. nothing could beat the solace of your hands on his own, of your lips in a kiss, of your skin at his touch.

but fate could be so cruel.

“do you remember the first time we met? i was also in your arms, you caught me when i was about to fall.” your tone was soft, fragile, as if anytime soon you’ll break and give in. “please—stop talking, save your strength, please. my love, you cannot leave me, you are not going to leave me.”

he spent so much of him guarding and driving danger away from the beloved city of freedom only for him

to not be able to protect you against those, it was injudicious on his part for not thinking that those very perditions that he fights were lurking at the comfort of his home. cruel, cruel, cruel, how could fate be so cruel? how could people be so selfish?

a dry chuckle and a weak response, “we know much better than that, ‘luc.”

how could you still look breathtaking even at the hands of death? how is it that you still manage to enamour him with blood staining your lips?

“i know that i’ve always belonged in your arms, even in death.”

he’s as warm as you remember him and you are cold despite his embrace, you remember—or perhaps, know—the expression on his face as you took your last, remembered the way he feels on you, remembered the way he speaks to you so lovingly, remembered everything about him and burned it your memory in hopes that you’ll know him in your next life, if there is one.

“i love you.” he mumbles as he brings you closer to him, tears that he had been holding back had now came pouring out of his eyes, the words he had told you were laced with warmth and affection—with hurt and poison.

but you are still cold and now, lifeless as you lay in his arms. beautiful, captivating, darling—dead.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[bettysupremacy]

Eddie x Henderson! Reader pt. 3

Could be read as a standalone methinks

Summary: When Dustin let’s it slip to Steve that their his sister is seeing Eddie Munson, Steve goes into protective mode.

Warnings: cursing, fem! Reader, insinuations to sex, Eddie being adorable, protective! Steve, no spoilers!

A/N: I’m sorry took so long, I’m in mourning over st. Also thank you @idiotonlegs because you gave me the idea for this whole chapter<3

4.5k words 🫶🏻

In the end, Dustin had only been able to save the Master of reality cassette. Whatever their devil spawn of a cat had done to her cherished Walkman had left it completely ruined.

She had sobbed when Dustin broke the news to her that night after the diner. He almost felt bad about telling her. He could see she had such a good time with Eddie. Well as much as he could see sitting at a different table them. “Grown up’s table and kiddie table” was Eddie’s excuse. Maybe he should’ve just gotten Steve to buy her the same one and then lied to her about it.

“I can ask Steve to buy you a new one,” he had suggested while rubbing her back “use his big brother spirit to our advantage.”

She shook her head adamantly “I don’t want him to know I broke this one.”

Yet, two weeks later, Dustin is in family video, bugging explaining to Steve what happened to their his sisters broken Walkman.

“-and then she came into the room to find Tew’s playing with-“

“I thought your cats name was Mews?”

“That was our old cat, Steve. So-“

Steve looks over his shoulder from where he’s typing to ask “Your cat Mews died, and you named the new cat Tew’s?”

Robin snorts “Did you name the new cat Tew’s because it’s the second cat?”

“What?”

“Like.. Two? Tew’s.”

“I don’t.. I don’t know? That’s not the point. She came into her room and the cat had ruined it.”

Steve’s already gone back to typing. “Yeah man, I’ll buy her a new one. You should’ve told me sooner. Then you wouldn’t have had needed to do all your nerd crap on it.”

“My nerd crap saved her Master of reality cassette.”

“Masters of what? Whatever man, I would’ve bought her another one of those too.”

Dustin rolls his eyes at how casual Steve is being about his money and shuffles so that his back his now leaning against the front desk. It’s a quiet day. Nobody in or out the whole time Dustin was bothering Steve and Robin.

Robin looks up from where she’s sorting tapes, “Do you still need something?”

“Robin.”

She turns her head to Steve confusedly “What?”, He only shakes his head.

Dustin turns back around, “Yeah, actually”

“What is it kid?”

“I have nothing to do today.”

Steve looks at him confusedly, “I have work. Didn’t you say something about seeing a movie with the freak-“

“Eddie.”

“-Eddie today?”

“He’s ditched me. again!”

“He’s probably got better things to do then hang out with a 15 year old on a Saturday. Isn’t he like twenty something?”

“My sister is not better then me.”

Steve’s head snaps up and Robin ditches the tapes to look back up at Dustin in fascination.

“He’s doing her? What the hell are you talking about?”

“No! God, I hope not? I just mean he’s ditched me all week to hang out with her. The drive in, on a school night, the Halloween fair, Arcade Palace. And then! Two nights ago he came in through my front door.”

Steve looks at him confusedly and Dustin sighs. “I thought he was here to hangout with me, because he’s been seriously neglecting me, but he just didn’t know which window was hers to break into!”

Robin laughs loudly at that, but its quickly swallowed up by Steve shrieking “They were alone in her room?”

Steve looks like he’s about to pop a vessel.

“They were studying for Mrs. Clicks test.”

Steve bristles, “They weren’t studying, Dustin.”

“I don’t know Steve,” Robin starts “Mrs. Clicks tests are really hard.”

Robins smart mouth earns her a swift kick behind the knees from Steve. She buckles, clutching onto the faux wood counter, and flips him the bird.

“Was there music playing, Dustin?” Robin continues to tease Steve.

“Just the loud ass screams of Ozzy Osborne and Blackie Lawless. I asked them to turn it down so many times but they wouldn’t listen and my mom wasn’t home to back me up-“

The rest of Dustin’s rant is muffled out to Steve’s ears. Steve is horrified. They were alone.. in her room.. with loud ass music playing.. while their mother wasn’t home?? He could be sick. What is that freaks intentions with her?

Robin takes one look at his face and bursts into cackles. She’s clutching her stomach with one hand and her mouth with the other. “This is so incriminating, Steve.”

Steve makes to kick her knees again but she swerves it quickly and his foot bounces off of the counter wall. Dustin watches in confusion as Robin starts laughing out louder and Steve cringes. Dustin doesn’t know if he’s cringing from the impact of the kick or how loud Robin is laughing in the quiet store.

Steve is standing on one foot, rubbing his hand over the injured foot “Whatever Robs, he better not be messing with her.” The threat doesn’t sound half as intimidating as he wanted it to sound.

But oh does Robin know what her and Eddie have been doing. She calls Robs every single time they get back from one of the many surprisingly cute dates Eddie planned. Or what her best friend called a “study date” two nights ago.

Her giggles must turn into something telling after Steve’s not so threatening threat, because when she calms herself down, Steve and Dustin are staring at her.

Did she do it again? “What?” she grabs her elbows insecurely “What?”

Steve has his arms crossed, leaning against the counter next to the computer, and Dustin his leaning over the counter squinting at her.

“What did she tell you?” Steve asks slowly.

“Why do you assume she told me anything?”

“Because shes your best friend.”

“What? No? Her best friend is Chrissy Cunnin-“

“Oh bull” Steve scoffs at the girl who he labels as his best friend.

She’s looking between the small, not-so-scary brother, and the taller, slightly scarier, chosen brother.

“Fine” she sighs. Although, she’s worried once she opens her mouth, she won’t be able to close it. That’s exactly what Steve wants though, isn’t it? “She’s called me after every one of their dates.”

Dustin shakes his head in shock “Dates?”

Steve ignores him and starts asking the important questions “What are his intentions with her?”

Robin laughs a startled laugh, “What’re you? A dad sitting at a dinner table with a shot gun-?”

The door chimes as a customer walks in, and Steve quickly turns into customer service, employee of the month Steve. “Hi, welcome to family video, is there anything you need help with- oh it’s you.”

His employee of the month personality is quickly ripped from him when he sees Max staring at him amused, slowly pulling her headphones off her ears.

“What d’you want?”

Max hasn’t read the energy of the room yet, “Wow, Steve, that’s so polite of you. Do you greet all your loyal customers like that? Or just your favorites? I bet Keith would love a review of his employees, do you guys have a paper form for that around here?”

“What do you want?” Steve repeats.

“Careful,” Robin warns “Steve’s cranky right now.”

“I am not cranky-“

“And Dustin too.”

Max comes up and leans against the counter, tinkering with the customer service bell, “I can tell. What’s your damage, Steve?”

Dustin answers the question meant for Steve, “My sister is seeing Eddie Munson and Robin knows inside details that we don’t.”

“Oh, so do I.” Max deadpans.

“What?” Steve and Dustin practically yell at the same time.

“My god. Can you work on volume control?” Robin cringes, plugging her fingers in her ears for dramatics, and walking to stand in the corner closer to Max.

“What do you know?” Steve asks quieter.

“Not much, I saw them thirty minutes ago, In the book store, and he introduced himself to me as her boyfriend.” She says this too nonchalantly Steve thinks. Dustin is about to have a conniption.

“They’re so cute aren’t they?” Robin tilts her head towards Max with a blinding smile on her face.

“Aren’t they?” Max lilts, “I mean she looked so pleasantly surprised when he used that word, which was so adorable. The way they smiled at each other too-“

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve cuts her off annoyed.

She scoffs at him and Robin waves a hand at her as if to silently tell Max to ignore him. All of them fall into a comfortable silence. Their minds running with the buzz of the same topic.

The silence is loudly broken by the sound of the door chime again. Max and Dustin don’t bother looking up, this isn’t their job. It’s Robin and Steve’s.

“Hi, welcome to family video, is there anything you need help with-“ Steve’s monologue is cut off at the same place it was minutes prior. Good thing Robin is such a good friend.

“With finding today? Our movie of the week is The Goonies.” Robin finishes for him. A sincere, highly amused, smile is plastered on her face. Compared the the fake customer service one that usually sweeps it.

Eddie is beaming, and everyone can tell it’s from something that happened prior to him opening the doors. Robins mandated monologue wasn’t that moving.

“Hey Robin!” His voice comes out too loud at first, not adjusted from the loud street. He looks like he’s about to say something else but his mouth stutters when he sees the way Steve is glaring at him.

Robin looks over confused, and hits Steve with the 16 Candles box in her hands when she sees the deep glare that he’s giving Eddie. Eddie quickly recovers, walking up to Dustin and ruffling his hair “Goonies huh? I’ve already got a movie picked out. Where’s the horror section?”

Robin points him to the horror section silently. He looks a little to her right, where Steve is standing, and he hesitates a nod before walking over. Robin hits Steve with 16 Candles two more times. “Ow! Robin! What is that for?”

“What the hell, dingus? Why are you glaring at that poor boy like that?”

“Glaring? I was not glaring.”

“You we’re glaring.” Max backs up Robin.

“See?” Robin gestures towards Max.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Eddie comes back over quickly, setting the box down on the counter and smiling up at Robin. The smile looks more forced when he sees the way Steve hasn’t changed his glare.

“The Shining? That’s a classic.” Robin tries to keep the conversation flowing while renting it for him.

“You got plans tonight?” Max chimes in, smiling a teasing smile at Dustin.

Eddie laughs at the girls, “Yes, I do have plans tonight, Red. Super hot date in fact.” He winks at her.

Dustin scoffs and walks off into the romance section. Quickly realizing what section he’s in and groaning loud enough to have Eddie and the girls in giggles.

Robin hands him the rented tape, “Hope you have fun.”

“Hope you have fun.” Steve mimics under his breath.

Eddie looks at Steve with furrowed brows. He needs to get out of here, “We will!”

Once he hears the jingle of Eddie opening and closing the door, Dustin comes back out.

“What was that?” It’s Robins turn to glare at the immature boys.

“What?” Dustin asks offended.

It’s silent as the four young adults look between each other. Max is the first to crack. “Whatever, see you guys later” she pulls her headphones up again “Bye Robin!”

“Bye Max!” Robin stands there with her hands on her hips, very Steve like for a second. “I can’t believe you two.” She walks into the employees only room.

“What’s gotten into her?” Steve asks Dustin.

“No idea.”

That night, when Eddie gets to the Henderson household, their mothers car isn’t there. Just like she said. Still, he parks a few houses away, just in case.

Sitting in his car, he realizes how nervous he is. He meant it when he said he was going to take her on a proper date, and he fulfilled that promise. He’s taken her to the drive in, to the Halloween fair, where he won her a oversized teddy bear, and then spent $4 to win the bears matching electric guitar plushie.

To Arcade Palace (so he could stand behind behind her and help her play skee-ball). He even came over two nights ago, at 9 o’clock at night, even though they had a test the next day, just to make out hang out with her for awhile. Though he had to tell Dustin they were studying when he came through the front door.

He moves the rear view mirror so he can see himself better. He didn’t think about how having the windows down would effect his hair. Once satisfied, he grabs the VHS and hops out, walking down to her house. She told him to just walk in, not to bother knocking because it’s unlocked, but he was still nervous. This wasn’t his home.

When he reaches her front door he stands there a couple seconds, anxiety knotting in his stomach. Holy shit he’s so nervous. He raises his hand to knock on the door, he’ll just tell her he forgot, but it opens before he can move to knock on it.

She glances at his hand in the air, and he swallows in embarrassment when she says “I thought I told you to just walk in?”

She’s wearing an oversized bright green and yellow shirt, and brown pajama shorts.

He suppresses a smile, “Camp Know Where? What’d you do? Raid Dustin’s closet?”

“Dustin got it for me from his camp last summer,” she grabs his arm and pulls him inside “It was some kind of genius camp. I don’t really know what they did there..”

She continues to chatter his ear off, pulling him into the kitchen. All he can do is smile fondly at her while she pulls down cups from the cabinet and opens the fridge, “-and so I had to get red vines instead of jujubes because Mr. Johnson said they were out. But I got sugar babies.” She looks at him expectantly “Do you want coke or lemonade? Or water, water is also an option.”

“Coke’ll do”

“Mkay, I’m having lemonade. And I’m mixing it with sweet tea, have you ever done that? It’s really good.”

“I’ll have that actually.”

“You don’t want coke?”

“I want what you’re having.”

She smiles at him, “Okay.”

He watches her carefully pour half lemonade into the cups, and then fill the rest up with sweet tea. She hands him his cup but let’s out an “oomph!” when he pulls her closer and presses a hard kiss to her mouth. Some of her drink sloshes over the rim of her cup. When he pulls back she looks dazed.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing. I just missed my Chatty Cathy.”

A shy smile replaces her shock, “We hung out all day.”

“So? Can’t I miss my girlfriend?�� he tucks hair behind her ear. Girlfriend.

She shrugs his hand away from her and swerves around him, moving quickly towards her room. “You’re teasing me.”

There’s so much mock offense on his face that she almost feels bad, “I would never!”

“Yeah okay. Put the VHS in, Romeo.” She quips while slowly setting her drink on her nightstand.

“So bossy.”

“You like it.”

He sticks in The Shining and gets comfortable on her bed. She quickly moves into his arms and he scoffs “Look who needs me now.” down at her, but tightens his arms so she won’t try to leave. He’s quite content with laying like this with her for the rest of his life.

“You sure you’ve got everything, speedy?” Robin taunts Steve as he rushes through the employees only room, trying to grab all his stuff. He thought he grabbed it all earlier but when he made it to the car he forgot his keys, then his jacket, then his wallet.

“Yes,” Steve pants “I’ve got it all now.”

She watches as he books it out the door, into his car, where Dustin is waiting impatiently, and out of the parking lot. The goal is to make it to the store, before it closes, so he can buy her a new Walkman. But he’s sure if he gets there when they’re closing, he could just bribe the closing employee to let him buy something real quick.

Robin shakes her head, eyebrows scrunching when she feels something under her shoe. The glimmering of a gold key catches her eye and she busts out laughing. Steve is going to be so pissed when he realizes he dropped his house key. She’s gonna buy him a keychain, she decides, he’s got too much trust in loose keys.

He makes it to the store in time, Thank god, and grabs the same exact one he bought last time. On the way to check out, a rack of cassettes catches his eye. Hmm. He checks his watch and there’s exactly 5 minutes before the old man working the register kicks him out. That’s enough.

He scans his eyes over it, trying to see if there’s anything that he can remember her talking about. Bowie, Bush, Madonna, Queen. Queen!

He sets the stuff on the counter just in time. He’s breathing hard and he’s sure he looks a little crazy. He lightly pats his hair subconsciously. Did his Farrah Fawcett hold up?

The old man behind it looks at all his items slowly, and then back up at him. He shakes his head like he wants to say something, but doesn’t end up chewing Steve out, like he thought he would. He just doesn’t get paid enough.

Steve thanks the man for the bag and throws a $20 bill on the counter as a tip for serving him so late. He slams his car door a lot harder then he meant to, which has his eyes shut tight in cringe, but Dustin is urging him to start the car, so Steve drops the bag in Dustin’s lap and drives off. He’s begging Steve to go over the speed limit, but he’s just too responsible for that.

“Speed up, man! When are we trying to get there? Next year?”

“Cork it, Henderson. The speed limit is 45, so I’m going 45.”

A loud groan follows and Steve rolls his eyes. What is it with his kids and their attitudes?

It takes them a lot longer to get to their house then Dustin wanted, Steve too but he wouldn’t admit that, and though Dustin was whining and begging Steve to hurry the hell up, he doesn’t get out of the car when they pull up. He sits there silently and drops the bag back in Steve’s lap.

“What’re you waiting for?” Dustin asks confusedly.

“Um, what are you waiting for?”

“You think I’m going in there?”

“You aren’t?”

“No! My child eyes are too innocent.”

Dustin thinks that if you could hear eyes roll, that the eye roll Steve just gave him would be loud. Very loud.

“You’re gonna have to go in when I come back to the car anyways.”

“I’m spending the night at your place.”

Steve and Dustin are making direct eye contact, in complete silence, for what feels like minutes.

“No, you’re not.”

Steve hops out the car and nervously walks towards the front door. What if he sees something? He doesn’t wanna see that. What about his poor innocent eyes? Well.. maybe not that innocent.

He walks in without knocking, because they never lock their door, and stands there silently for a moment. He can’t hear anything. That’s good.

Farther he walks, past their couch, and into the hallway that Dustin and her room resides. When he makes it to her door it’s closed. Why is it closed? Her moms rule is that the door has to stay open. Even for him!

He can hear The Shining playing, and he can see the light of the tv under her door. Is her light off? Oh my god, he really doesn’t wanna see more then he needs to.

When he knocks he hears a yelp and thinks the worst. They were totally being devious in there! He knew it! That’s why the door was closed, that’s why the lights are off, that’s why-

There’s a loud teasing laugh, “Is the movie making you jumpy?”

“Shove it, Munson”

“I-“

Steve knocks again.

She whines. “What does Dustin need? Hold on, Dusty!”

Steve doesn’t bother yelling that it’s him, she’ll know when she opens the door.

There’s shuffling, a thump, a groan, and a giggle, then there’s the sound of the doorknob rattling. Was it locked? The door opens to a very shirtless, very mortified, Eddie Munson.

Immediately after Steve processes what he’s looking at, the door is abruptly slammed in his face. He stumbles backwards from the force and he can hear their hushed voices again.

“Why is Steve Harrington here?”

“What?”

“I know!”

“Where is my-“ the rest is muffled to Steve. Where’s her what? Oh my god. Where’s her what?

The door opens to her bright, out-of-breath, face. “Hey, Stevie.”

He looks behind her and sees Eddie awkwardly standing there, a lot less shirtless. He’s now wearing a bright green Camp Know Where shirt.

“Hey, I uh- I brought you something.” Jesus Christ.

She looks down at the bag in his hand, and tucks the hair that fell In front of her face behind her ear. She points to it, “That?”

He swallows and nods. This is so uncomfortable.

She tries to grab the bag from his hand, but he has to force himself to let it go, and she looks at him confused. When she walks into her room, to set the bag on her bed, he stays in the doorway. He doesn’t need to see more then he already has.

He’s making eye contact with anything besides Eddie, in the green shirt he could’ve sworn Dustin brought back from summer camp. However, his eyes snap to her when he hears a loud gasp.

“You got me a new Walkman?”

He nods, “Dustin told me yours broke.”

“And A Night at the Opera?”

“Dustin told me he saved Masters of.. he told me he saved it, but I figured a new cassette couldn’t hurt. Especially when I know how much you like Bohemian Rhapsody”

“I love it.” She smiles up at him, “I love it!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” She bounces over to hug him.

He ruffles her hair on instinct and smiles when he hears her muffled voice say “Not the hair!”. She’s too much like him.

“You’re welcome, kid.”

She pulls back, “Don’t call me that. I’m only a year younger then you.”

“Yeah, ok.” Suddenly, Steve remembers what he came here for. “Can you go into Dustin’s room and grab me his pajamas? He’s spending the night but he refuses to leave the car.”

“Why won’t he come in?”

“Something about.. his innocent eyes?” He teases.

He sees the embarrassment wash over her face. “Yeah, I can do that.” She glances to Eddie before walking out of the room, “I’ll be right back, baby.”

Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby. That’s all his mind can think. She just called me baby. His mind is running so fast, that he’s oblivious to Steve, in front of him, giving him what he could only describe as stern dad eyes.

In Dustin’s room, she is unaware of what she’s done to Eddie, rifling through Dustin’s drawers. There’s seriously nothing in here. All she’s come across is a stack of letters from Suzie, a couple of D&D figurines, and some socks thrown haphazardly in his drawers. Where does he keep is clothes? She looks down. Oh. That’s where.

She grabs a shirt and something that vaguely looks like pajama pants, shoving it into his backpack. It’s none of her business to see if they’re clean or not, and she doesn’t want to leave Eddie alone in a room with Steve for too long.

When she leaves his room she doesn’t see Steve in the doorway anymore. Oh no. She quickly opens the door. “What are you doing?”

They both look at her, “Nothing.” They say at the same time.

She holds a hand to Eddie, “No, what are you doing, Steve?”

“What are you blaming me for?”

“What did you say to him?” She turns towards Eddie, “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing! We were just talking.” Steve claps Eddie’s shoulder, “Right Eddie?”

He nods, “Right.”

“Oh no,” she shakes her head “you’re not about to big brother me out of a boyfriend. Out.”

“What? I have no clue what you are insinuating, but I am not impressed.”

She grabs his arm and starts to pull him out of her room. “Out, Stevie.”

He gives up with a big huff, letting her pull him through the hall and into the living room. “Isn’t the rule that the door needs to be open?”

She ignores him, shoving him out the front door and sticking Dustin’s backpack in his hands, “Don’t threaten my boyfriend.”

“I did nothing of the sort!”

“I know you.”

He’s halfway to his car now. “Not well enough, apparently.”

“Too well, actually.”

“Brat!” He shouts.

“Dolt!” She shouts back.

“I love you!”

“Thank you for the Walkman!”

He climbs in the car, drops Dustin’s backpack in his lap, and pulls off. “You can have the guest bedroom tonight.”

Dustin let’s out a silent cheer of “Yes!” and Steve shakes a smile off of his face.

She walks back into the house, locks the door, and moves towards her room again. When she gets back in there, he’s sitting on her bed, still looking a little dazed.

The laugh she lets out when she realizes he’s wearing her shirt gets him to smile too. “Oh, baby. You’re wearing my shirt.” She grabs his face and pushes his hair back, combing through it gently.

There it is again. And she still hasn’t noticed

She eyes him suspiciously. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“You look flustered.” Or maybe she has.

“S’nothing”

They lay down again. This time, she’s on her back and he’s got his head on her chest, arms circling her stomach.

“Are you sure, baby? You seem worked up. Do you have something you need to say, baby-?”

Shrieked giggles can be heard around the room as he sits up and starts to tickle her sides, “Is that funny?”

All she can do is shake her head no, the giggles bubbling past her lips makes it hard to speak. He smiles in satisfaction, and when he stops, she frowns up at him. He almost feels bad. Almost.

He leans down and kisses her slowly, to make up for it of course. He’s the one to pull back, smiling down at her, pushing some hair back, like she had done to him moments ago, and kissing her cheek and nose in adoration. He lays back down on her chest.

“M’sorry, I didn’t know you were so ticklish, baby.”

A sound of indignation leaves her lips at his teasing.

“I know!”

They lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, before she kisses the top of his head.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew it!”

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[thisismeracing]

Twisted Love | MS47

― Pairing: Dark Angel!Mick x fem!reader ― Word count: 3.3k ― Warnings: +18; suggestive content and a quick description of sex (p in v); mentions of a fallen angel, assault, and stalker behavior; description of horror situations and death (but not too graphic). ― Summary: The rule is clear for all celestial beings: to love the Almighty beyond everything. They can’t share the feeling. It is perpetually prohibited for angels to get fond of humans, especially the protector angels. They are the ones who will follow their human on earth and protect each one. Those Angels and the humans are the same pairing throughout time. Mick watched Yn die and come to life in different forms each period, and he fell. In love and from Heaven. Years after searching for Yn, he found her again, and he’s ready to get what’s his.

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“I slithered here from Eden, just to sit outside your door.” — Hozier, From Eden

He knew the rules. He had friends who disobeyed it and had to pay the price: to leave Heaven. And nobody wants to leave the Heavens. Mick never judged them, but he always questioned himself as to why would someone freely give up their position, their friends, their home, and their God, for something that could only be classified as temporary when put side by side with the world known by the celestial beings.

Up until he met you.

Up until he watched you die and come back to life.

Up until he protected you in every lifetime.

Up until he couldn’t resist but visit your dreams.

Up until he finally realized he was in love.

With a human.

Mick Schumacher was in love with you.

A guardian angel was in love with his human.

He was cast out of Heaven by the Almighty who did it with so much mourn and pain, that the other celestial beings almost tried to change His mind. But nobody questions the Almighty's orders. Rules were made by Him and they were meant to be followed. It doesn’t matter if it was one of His favorite angels.

Mick still remembers what he said to him before judgment day.

“Son, you can still regret your sin. You can still change your mind, and the Heavens will forgive you,” the powerful voice echoed around, and Mick kept his head low.

He could only think of you. And how your skin felt against his. How beautiful you looked sleeping. And how angelical your laughter was.

“Father, you always talk about love, so why don’t you let your beings love?” he asks, and though if the question came from any other Celestial the Almighty could read it as some kind of disrespect, it came from Mick, so he only sighed.

“You can love me, I’m your creator, your ruler. I made you the way you are Mick.”

“Then why are you punishing me for following my instincts and feelings? If you created me the way I am, then it’s your fault I’m choosing this path!” he retorted, finally lifting his eyes to the sky. The most beautiful sky to ever exist. The kind of thing that no human eyes would support.

“Enough!” the Almighty’s voice reverberated around the void and clouds. “You’re being cast out of Heaven, son. And your human? She just died. You’re gonna have to find her again. Good luck, Mick.”

And so he walked around the earth, he flew around the sea, he looked at each corner until he could finally find where you were reborn. Where you had reincarnated.

And when he finally did he followed you like a shadow. Just like he did when he was your guardian angel.

And Oh- you were so beautiful, so perfect. Mick loved staying by your side while you worked, spooking a male coworker here and there. He would walk home with you, just observing as you smiled widely to everyone who passed by, how you were so full of life, how you were still the woman he fell in love with. The one he fell for. Quite literally.

–

It was a Friday night, it was a happy hour from work at a bar three streets from your building. You weren’t in the mood to party, but your friends insisted, and your boss was always so adamant about having everyone together, you did not know how to say no to the invitation.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at a barstool, your lips a bit numb from a shot of something you didn’t know. Your body was lighter and the tipsy feeling made you giggle at everything three of your coworkers would say.

Mick was watching from the shadows, a mask of invisibility around him while he assessed the dangers around the place. And his blood boiled when he saw the guy who was eyeing you from the beginning buying you a drink from across the bar, tipping something on your cup before asking for the barman to give it to you.

He transported himself to a dark hallway and walked to you just when the drink was put on the wood counter, the contents of whatever the man had added settling at the bottom of the cup. Mick took advantage of the place where you were sitting and pretended to sit by your side, accidentally knocking your cup.

“Oh- oh my, I’m so clumsy, I’m really sorry,” he used his best mask to pretend it wasn’t his intention. To draw your attention to him.

You turned ready to complain, but the second your eyes met his big blue orbs your voice died down, trapped in your throat along with your heart from how fast it started to beat. He was so beautiful, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his angelic face to his white button down, some of the top buttons opened showing just a hint of blonde chest hair. You gulped. He was wearing blue jeans too, and a pair of Converse shoes. What a marvelous view, you thought.

“I can buy you another drink to make up for it,” he suggested after some seconds of silence, and you gulped, before giving him a nod with your head. “I’m Mick, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extended one of his big hands and you shared a glance with your coworkers behind you, one of them giving a thumbs up as if approving the way Mick looked. You giggled, and turned your body fully in his direction, taking his hand in yours and feeling the chills run down your body.

“You seem familiar,” you muttered.

“I’ve read somewhere that blonde guys are starting to catch up with the brunettes on statistic numbers,” he joked, lifting just the corner of his lips while his eyes attentively scanned you.

You let out a chuckle, finally touching his hand with yours and stopping for a beat. His skin felt warm, and it was like her whole body was lit up by a simple touch, “I’m Yn.”

“Sorry for your drink again, Yn. Though I think I may have saved you, it looked awful from what I saw,” he pointed to the glass that only had a small sip, the liquid a strange green shade.

You made a face at the contents, “What are you having?”

And Mick grinned internally. You were being forward. You wanted his company. He knew you didn’t usually try to make conversation like this. He knows you prefer your silence most of the time. Knows you like the back of his hand.

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Well, I had a few glasses of gin and cola, but I can totally follow you with beer if you want.” Oh, you were so sweet. And so thoughtful.

Mick smiled and shook his head, “I don’t like beer,” because you don’t like beer, Yn. And I’m the perfect guy for you, “I’ll have gin and cola too, sounds tasty.”

Your eyes lit up, and a small smile graced your lips.

And so he kept you company for hours. Drinking and talking. You were so carefree, laughing at all of his jokes, and cracking a few too, to which he would throw his head back and present you with the perfect view of his milky neck. You so wanted to kiss and lick it.

From his peripheral vision, he saw the guy who tried to drug you walk to the bathroom. Mick excused himself and followed him. His wings were twitching on his back, begging to be set free so he could fly to the highest spot and drop that little shit from there.

When he opened the door, the guy was washing his hands and turned to him, instantly recognizing Mick as the man who stole his victim of the night.

“Your motherfucker, I was-”

Mick furrowed his brows and stared deep into his eyes.

There are things that the human eyes aren’t ready to process yet. And that’s exactly the form that he showed the guy. The form that shut his mouth, making him gasp with utter terror. Mick smiled, closing his eyes and coming back to his blonde skin, eyes now completely dark, inviting the man to jump into the unknown darkness. Something that would certainly kill him.

“Please,” he tried to plead, but nobody messes with you and lives to tell a story. Mick was still your angel. It was still his duty to protect you.

He felt satisfied when the guy dropped at his feet, mind haunted by the worst demons earth could house, and body a few seconds from death.

Mick brushed invisible dust from his shoulders, before walking back to the bar. An enchanting smile on his lips when your eyes found him in the crowd.

“That was quick,” you jabbed and Mick chuckled, fitting his body right beside yours instead of sitting at the barstool.

“I missed you, had to make it quick, or else my heart wouldn’t take it.”

You giggled, turning to him. One of your elbows at the wooden counter. Mick turned too, fitting between your legs that parted just right for him.

Looking up at him it was like you were the angel. His angel. His goodness.

He loved you. He worshiped you. And it felt heavenly when your hands reached for his shoulders, bringing his face down to yours and crashing your lips in a tentative kiss. You flicked your tongue shyly, and Mick almost moaned, holding your jaw and your waist, and opening his mouth for you to deepen the kiss.

The material of his shirt was soft against your palms, and so was the skin of his neck when you moved your hands there and threaded your fingers between his blonde strands.

Mick tasted like alcohol with a hint of something sweet and fresh, and you almost moaned when he sucked your bottom lips into his mouth, grinning into the kiss.

You stayed like this for a bit, kissing here and there, talking, and sipping your drinks. Your coworkers were long gone. And when you got ready to leave, Mick offered to walk you home which for some reason you accepted.

His hand laced yours while you walked down the dark streets, and you never felt so protected in your life the way you felt at that moment.

You had just met him. You had no justification to trust him. To show him where you lived. To ask if he wanted to enter your apartment. But he had such inviting eyes. Such a way of holding you. Of you speaking.

He looked like an angel.

And that angel waited right at the threshold waiting for whatever you would say after you got inside.

Mick wanted to do it right.

He had entered her house so many times, but now it would be different. You would invite him. You would house him. He remembers one of the verses of the Book of Life where the Almighty says that he’s at your door, and he’ll only get inside if you ask him to.

Well, he’s ready to be your everything, but he wants you to invite him to do so first.

You turn around, a hazy smile on your lips, “C’mon, Micky, don’t be shy about me now. Get inside,” you finally verbalize. “This is my house, I don’t share it with anybody, no roommates, I promise. You’re welcome to get in.”

You’re welcome to get in.

I don’t share it with anybody.

He grinned. You share it with him now.

Mick walked inside.

He took his shoes off and walked to your kitchen watching you try to heat some frozen pizza.

That night Mick fed you, bathed you, and laid with you in bed, making sure to leave just before you wake up and pretend he slept on the couch.

That morning he made you breakfast, adding an extra strong black coffee to help you with your headache. He also asked you on a date and kissed you when leaving – which he didn’t do, because he was always there. He wasn’t from Heaven anymore, but he was still your angel, he would always be your angel.

That month he asked you to be his girlfriend. You discovered his surname, and that you had more things in common than you thought that night. You discovered that he was a biker and that he spoke several foreign languages. He had gone to the military, but never into war – his skin was too flawless for someone who had, no scars, except for two on his back, which he explained were from a car accident.

Life with Mick was perfect. It was like he could read your mind. He knew what you needed at the right time, he would order you food when he wasn’t around, and cook for you when he was. He would show up to pick you up at work with flowers. And he would whisper the dirtiest things in your ear while maintaining the purest face.

Just like he was doing now.

“Tell me who you belong to, Yn,” his order was smooth, just like the skin of his stomach that was gliding over yours while he thrusts into you at a slow and deep pace.

You whimper, hands going to his back, fingers finding his scars, and gripping his body closer to yours, “I- I’m yours, Mick. All yours. Only yours.”

He paused with his lips in front of yours, breathing you in right before tasting you. It wasn’t long until you both dissolved into pleasure. His fingers trace your curves, while you lay your head on his chest.

He was so good at aftercare.

He was good at convincing you.

He was good at everything.

You never thought he was good at murder too.

It was a Saturday night and you were walking home from the same bar you met Mick. You had just met with some coworkers and decided to walk home. And you would have texted your boyfriend for him to pick you up, but your phone died, and you didn’t want to bother Mick, he was probably fixing the new bike he got last week.

What you weren’t expecting was a guy to come out of nowhere in front of you. He was huge, and he smelled like alcohol. You don’t even understand whatever he slurred. When panic finally kicks in, and you’re ready to scream, but his hand finds your mouth, while the other one grips your neck.

You remember your mother telling you that you must have a strong guardian angel, remember her telling you about the day you were born, and how they almost lost you. And so you pray for him. Pray for whatever bigger force could hear you.

And he shows up.

Mick shows up.

You called for him. Granted, you had no idea he was a fallen angel, an angel nonetheless.

Your angel.

And you were so innocent, so vulnerable, you needed Mick, that’s what he would tell himself, mainly because he was already following you. He always was.

You reminded him of his portrait in a mirror years ago, back when he was innocent too. Just an angel. One of the Almighty’s favorites.

But he wasn’t innocent anymore. He had fallen. And fallen angels don’t mind killing people that get in their way. So that’s what Mick did. He gripped the guy’s neck and held his face in front of his making sure his own back was turned to you. Mick showed him what the worst things on earth could look like, and how they looked in hell. The guy tried to look away, tried to close his eyes, but he had glanced at Mick’s black orbs, it was too late. Before his heart would stop, before his mind would get too hazy to understand everything, Mick twisted his neck and threw his body to the ground.

When your boyfriend turned to you, your eyes bulged still trying to grasp what just happened. You pointed to the guy on the ground, and Mick just nodded making you even more scared. How could your Mick kill someone? The sweet and kind Mick. The attentive, and soft-spoken blonde guy had just made whatever magic and killed someone.

“Love,” he called, and you shook your head trying to make your legs work. “Don’t be afraid,” he tried to reason, but your mind finally caught up with your body and you started running unsure of where you were heading since he had the keys to your place. Hell, he basically lived there!

“Yn, don’t run from me,” it was one of his soft orders, but this time they didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach but rather made your body prickle with fear because the second you turned your head Mick was flying in your direction.

He had big black wings with some golden feathers. It was beautiful, but scary somehow, just as everything new is.

You ran as fast as you could but it was nothing compared to how fast he could fly, and when Mick reached you he laced his hands around your body and flew up. You watched the gleam on his blue eyes, the way his milky skin seemed lightning, his dark wings enveloping you. He was still beautiful. Still, the whole moment felt like too much and your mind shut on you.

–

Waking up to Mick watching you wasn’t new, but this time it felt different especially because he still had his wings. They had retreated somehow, looking a bit smaller than earlier, but they were still here, and your breath hitched when you realized that it wasn’t a nightmare.

“I- What are you?”

“I’m an angel,” he stated, and your brows furrowed. “A fallen one. I was your guardian… still your guardian somehow,” his simple and direct explanation made you sit up and dig your hands into the bed cushion feeling dizzy all over again.

“An angel?!”

Mick nodded.

“You killed a man…” you shuddered.

He huffed, fingers going through the golden strands of his hair, “He’s not the first.” Mick’s confession makes you scramble to get up, “In my defense, they all tried to do you harm, and I would never let someone harm what's mine.”

He was so calm about it you wanted to laugh in disbelief.

“And you learned it at what… the third book of the Bible? No wonder you’ve fallen.”

His features twist.

“I was cast out of Heaven because I chose you instead of the Almighty.”

You tremble, head shaking in denial.

“Not possible. That’s sick…”

“I love you.”

“You don’t love me! What kind of twisted love is that where you kill people for me?”

He grins, “The best kind. You said so yourself you love me back, you also said you’re mine. You welcomed me here into your life, and I won’t leave.”

You gulped. “Mick, please. No.”

His eyes softened for a second, and you felt for yourself because he somehow looked like your Mick. The one you loved. And if he asked you something you would do it.

“You want me to prey on you?” he smirked. “You know you can’t run from me.”

Your love castle came crumbling down in the blink of an eye and along came your tears rushing down your face.

“Please,” such a mournful sound. Mick shook his head. “You’re a monster!”

“I’m your monster, love. You can’t deny it.”

With his wings fully retreated Mick appeared in front of you. When his lips find yours you try to push his shoulders and bite his lips, but he moans into your mouth, and the feeling of his muscular form and soft lips makes your brain shortcut. You’re open for him like his favorite meal on a silver plate.

“I waited too long for this. You’re mine, and I’ll hunt you down if you ever try to leave me, Yn.”

And your mom was right. You had a strong guardian angel, however, nobody accounted for the fact that he would be obsessed with you. Looking for love you ended up stumbling into something close to there, but also close to hell.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you liked the piece! This is the last one from the spooky pieces I tried writing hehe hopefully this is as good as the previous ones. I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Coffee (my coffee emoji anon here on Tumblr) for proofreading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this and make sure to reblog and leave a comment because Tumblr is being a btch and not delivering my stuff properly :( *mwah*.  

Ps. You'll notice that I make a lot of references throughout this piece, but none of them are intended to hurt beliefs or represent my vision of things. This is purely a work of fiction, and I tried my best to avoid using specific elements, choosing to go with "Almighty" in some moments and be a tad vague. I hope this doesn't come across as some kind of disrespect or anything. *virtual hug*

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[atinylittlepain]

Chapter One

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n | thank you to everyone who has expressed interest in this piece. I can't stress enough that while this work does deal with very dark, difficult subject matter, I always strive to speak to these things with as much care and respect as I can. I'd love to talk, if you'd like to share your thoughts on this one. thank you for reading.

.................................

Well the devil has been known to chase angels from their homes

And I know I got some angel left inside me

But my halo's hanging low

My halo's hanging low

And I'm nine hundred miles from my home

Angel Ballad as performed by Hurray for the Riffraff

................................

Quiet. It’s what he likes best about this job. The night comes on close and cool, even in the slow simmering slump of the summer. And nobody is ever out here at this time. No thrum and thrush of cars passing by on the highway. Just the jittery yips of coyotes, and maybe the growl of something bigger and meaner from time to time. Nights like this, he settles down in the drivers seat, letting the radio fizzle and thread through the quiet, whispered pasts and mournful words that he can hum along to. 

But tonight is different. 

He hears different before he sees it. That low murmur of an engine, and then the slow flood of headlights rounding the bend. Too fast, impossibly fast, there and gone. He fumbles, flicking on the siren and the lights before peeling onto the road, his car whimpering under the heavy demand of his foot on the gas pedal. 

His whole body is a closed fist curled around the wheel, waiting for this person to give up, surrender in the flash of their brake lights. But they hold on for a while, long enough for his jaw to start to ache with the way his teeth grit and grind. But eventually, the slow give in. 

Never gotten a taste for this, never liked this, the slow saunter up to the car, palm on the hood and the lean down, the spiel. He prefers the coyotes. 

But tonight is different.

Different stops his words in his throat. Wide eyes, unblinking and unmoving from his. A quick glance to hands still on the wheel, knuckles tensing over and over again, ready to bolt. The strap of her tank top has fallen down the slope of her pallid shoulder. He blinks, twice, hard, half-expecting an apparition to dissolve into gossamer breath before his eyes. But she just stares at him, lips parted in breath that catches somewhere in her sternum.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” 

“I’m sorry, officer.”

“Probably a hundred and ten in a sixty-five. Where are you going this time of night anyways?” 

“Do I have to answer that?” Said meek, a little warble, though her boldness still surprises him, a clip of laughter getting stuck in his throat, disbelief bubbling up.

“License and registration, please.” Her brow pinches and falls, eyes darting out along the highway like she’s looking for an answer. Knee bouncing, a jolted wire of a woman. Drugs, he thinks, maybe. Though he’s seen drugs, and drugs don’t look like this exactly. Fear, pure and simple. 

“I can’t do that, officer.” 

“Why not?” It startles him, fingers instinctively jumping to his holster when she suddenly jerks her hand off the steering wheel. But it’s only to draw her curled fingers to her mouth, worrying at split and sore-looking skin between her teeth. 

“I just can’t.” 

“If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to take you in.” She doesn’t respond to that, just continues to stare at him. Part of him wants to let her go, catch and release, a quiet warning to slow down. Harmless enough, he thinks, shivering like a beaten dog under his stare. But he knows he can’t do that.

“Please step out of the car, ma’am.” Relief when she complies, her eyes staying turned down to her sneakers as she shuts the car door behind her. He keeps his eyes on hers as he clicks on the radio on his shoulder.

“I need to get a plate checked, H-W-G–” Before he can read out the rest of her license plate number, her whole body jolts, a stuttered step toward him, her hands stretched out, palms stark white with the splay.

“No! No, please don’t do that. Please.” For some reason, he listens, clicking off his radio as he squints at her. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” She’s washed out wan in the headlights of his car, her frown slanting in harsh shadows. No answer, he moves to speak into his radio again.

“It’s my husband’s– my husband’s car.” No ring on her finger, her eyes follow his in their quick sweep of her hand.

“It’s complicated.” He huffs, a tilt of his head toward his car. She takes two steps forward before stopping, considering him.

“You’re not going to cuff me?” “Ain’t got a reason to.” Not yet, at least. Still unsure just what this is, still trying to figure it out. He opens the door to the back of the car for her, not missing the wary flit of her eyes before she ducks into the backseat. Reluctant but willing to settle her anxious plumage in this cage. 

They leave her car, or her husband’s car, on the shoulder of the highway, the station not too far away. He finds himself stealing glances at her, her expression unreadable in the bare glow of the few lone streetlights they pass. 

And then, somehow, he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of somewhere other than the station, catching her confused look in the rear view mirror. There’s nobody else at the diner this time of night, the only building for another few miles before the small town comes into focus. A blinking, chipped beacon in the night.

“Are you hungry?” No answer, though he thinks that she presses herself back into the seat, a small shrinking. He sighs, getting out of the car and opening her door, somewhere between leaning down and hovering over her in what he hopes is a less intimidating posture.

“Just wanna talk, get the whole story from you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what all this is about.”

“Help me?” Said like it’s foreign to her, a concept she can’t even imagine. 

“You like pancakes?” She does, he discovers, with blueberries and a thick swirl of syrup. She eats like she’s getting away with something, hurried, her eyes sweeping around the diner every so often. Hunger, a deep kind, like she hasn’t had a full meal in a while. He tries not to watch her too closely, taking cursory bites of his own meal.  But his eyes get caught on the fragile flex and flick of muscle in her forearms. Elbows on the table, the fluorescent lighting shocks into focus a dark bloom of bruises running up both her arms. Half moons of pain, waning gibbous and gruesome. Like fingerprints. He pushes his plate away from himself, swallowing hard.

“You can have the rest of mine too, if you want. Or we can get you something else?” Her eyes go wide again, freezing mid-chew before she swallows with a shaky gulp, setting fork and knife down, hands tangling in a close fist in her lap, ashamed. He wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Where are you from?” 

“Nebraska.” He’s a little surprised when she so quickly responds, though he nods, trying to school any expression from his face.

“And that’s where you’re coming from?” She nods, one palm absent-mindedly coming to curl behind her neck, her elbow resting in her hand that’s crossed over her stomach, a small defense, or at least the posture of it.

“You said that’s your husband’s car. Does he know you have his car?” 

“I imagine he has an idea by now.” 

“Does he know where you are?”

“I hope not.” She says it with a weak laugh, though her lashes stay dropped to her cheeks, not looking at him as she says it. He’s starting to feel a sick curl in his stomach, getting tangled up in something that he shouldn’t be, and he hasn’t the slightest idea why.

What he should do. What he should do is take her to the station and let someone else handle this. Someone who knows how to handle this. What he should do is let work be work, and what he should do is not get involved any further than the meal he bought for her.

“My name’s Joel.” He holds his hand out across the table, though she doesn’t take it, just works her fingers a little harder into the nape of her neck.

“I’m Dolores.” How fitting, he thinks. Our lady of sorrow, and she certainly looks every bit of it.

“May I ask what you were planning to do with a stolen car, going a hundred and ten in a sixty-five, Dolores?” She sniffs back the swim in her eyes, chin tucking up, a pantomime of conviction.

“I was getting away.”

What he should do, he doesn’t. What he does do, he shouldn’t. 

“You understand that if you keep driving that car, eventually you’re gonna get tracked down one way or another?” 

“I was gonna get rid of it once I got into Utah.”

“You got any money?”

“No.” 

“You got family in Utah?”

“No.” He almost doesn’t want to ask anymore questions, seeing the way she starts to wilt with each no, her shoulders curling in like a despondent cage. 

“So, what exactly was the plan?” He tries to ask it quiet, trying to temper his doubt, though she still winces.

“I already told you.”

“Getting away?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ve already done that. What, eight hours worth or thereabout?” She nods.

“I think you need a better plan, Dolores.” Her lips collapse in an instant frown, and he regrets the words, digging the knuckles of his fist into his thigh to keep anything else from coming out of his mouth. 

“I don’t know any more.” Like a child, like a hopeless child. Before he can respond, the waitress comes back around, filling up their coffee cups, a friendly, familiar word to him and an uncertain look to Dolores who keeps her eyes down on an invisible spot on the table. Just enough time for him to think over what he shouldn’t do. 

“Do you want my help?” 

…

When Sarah went off to college, and when Austin got to be too much, and when the work got to be too much as well, he decided he needed a change. Sold his half of the business to Tommy and used that money to buy a palmful of land. Small town, strange town, right in the curve of a mountain, just a few hours outside of Boulder. Sarah calls, and comes home for the holidays. Tommy not so much, a sour spat that has lingered between them ever since Joel left. Both of them too prideful to be the first to break, little brother that wanted more and wanted it fast, and big brother that was ready for everything to slow down and get silent.

He has enough money saved for his job at the station to be something that keeps him busy a few nights a week more than anything else. And in the meantime.

“Do you have animals?” She sits in the passenger seat now, pointing out to the dark outline of the barn and coop as they pass it.

“Got sheep, and chickens. But between you and me, I don’t care much for the chickens.” An attempt at lightness, he bites down on his own smile when he catches the small curve of her mouth in his periphery. 

Small house, sleeping house in a thick flare of brush and trees. He lets her do it on her terms, leaves the front door wide open and tries not to watch as she steps through the threshold, busying himself with linens and towels for her. Part of him is surprised that she agreed to come with him at all. But the other part of him knows why she did. It was this, or going back, and she wasn’t about to do that. 

“There’s a guest room down the hall. My daughter stays there when she visits so it shouldn’t be too bad.” She just nods, hands held loosely in front of her, quick sweeps of her eyes when he turns on a lamp, warm shadows and light. It takes her a beat to follow him down the hall, leaving a wide swath of space between them even when she steps into the room, watching him set the sheets down on the bed and flick on the light, her back pressed against the wall. 

“Bathroom is the first door on the left. And I’m upstairs if you need anything.” She still doesn’t move, only offering him another nod.

“We can go into town tomorrow. Get you some clean clothes and see about some work for you.” 

“Okay.” He doesn’t miss it, the way she takes two shuffled steps back when he moves closer, even though it’s only so he can get to the doorway. 

“Try to get some sleep.” He doesn’t think he’ll get a response from her, already making his way out of the room, but.

“Thank you, Joel.” He stops in his tracks, turning over his shoulder to look at her, though he doesn’t say anything, just a puff of breath that’s loud enough to sound like an answer before he shuts the door to her room behind him.

He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. Repeats to himself what a bad idea this is with each step up the stairs to his room. He shouldn’t, but he did.

What he offered her was time. And place. Time and place for her to find a better plan for herself. Make some money, stop the shake in her limbs, unbothered and unnoticed in a quiet town like this.

The husband’s car is a problem he hasn’t worked out yet, though he has some ideas. Pop off the plates and squirrel them away, let the car get found by some other patrolman, let it be a mystery. Or just leave the car as is, abandoned on the side of the highway, and let the husband wonder where his wife ran off to in the middle of nowhere. Not a fitting punishment, he thinks, but something nonetheless. 

For now though, there’s a stranger sleeping downstairs. A stranger that he has decided to help. He has been so careful at alone. At keeping people and place at arm’s length. And tonight, he has ruined that in one maybe, probably, stupid choice. But he’s never been one to change his mind, stubborn to a fault. So he lets one more shouldn’t fizzle out in his thoughts, and then resolves himself to this reality. A stranger sleeping downstairs who he is going to help. And not really a stranger now. Her name is Dolores. An old-fashioned name, he thinks. A weeping name, a wailing name. A name that demands it be said on a sigh. He wonders if she would like a new name, if she will need a new name. A problem for later, already getting ahead of himself. 

…

She’s sitting on the couch in the living room when he comes downstairs, her legs tucked up under her, head propped in the cup of her palm, looking out the window. Part of him half-expected her to be gone. A finely threaded figment slipped through his fingers. But she’s there, and she doesn’t notice him at first. 

“Morning.” It startles her, that close curl in on herself as she finally looks at him, and he again finds himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, had just let her be in that quiet moment.

“Hi.” 

“Get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” Said from behind her palm, he’s pretty sure it isn’t honest. Dark, drooping eyes and a heavy pull in her frame, truth without telling. 

He’s not sure if he should ask, so he doesn’t. He hides a smile when she follows him anyways, out onto the front porch and toward the coop. 

“Do they have names?” Her eyes brighten when the first of the ladies strut out of the coop, dipping and bobbing their heads with self-righteous clucks and chirps. 

“No, I can barely tell who’s who.” Her brow furrows, mouth screwing to the side as she watches the chickens, already bowing beaks to the dirt to pluck fresh crawling things for their breakfast. 

“Still, they should have names.” It seems to be an absent-minded thought that happens to come out in words, her eyes still focused on the fuss and flutter of the birds as she says it.

“Well if you come up with any, let me know.” He says it halfway over his shoulder as he ducks into the coop, swallowing down how strange this is. But we are so good at reconfiguring around strange, aren’t we? Fitting strange into our lives as if it was always meant to be there. So, he collects the eggs from the coop, listening to the faint sound of what he thinks is her quietly murmuring to the chickens, though she’s quiet again when he joins her. 

Two for her and two for him, he gets no answer when he asks her how she likes her eggs, a ghost lingering in the doorway to the kitchen, like she’s surprised when he acknowledges her presence. Fried, fizzled fat around the edges, he hopes it will do, setting two plates down at the table.

“Coffee?”

“Please.” His back turned as he pours two cups, his ears prick to the sound of the chair scraping out, and then a long sigh, a settling. She waits for him to sit down before she lets her hands stray from her lap. A careful bite of her eggs, yolk splitting and spilling gold against the edge of her fork. 

“Thank you.” 

“Not a problem.” Quiet, he keeps his eyes on his plate and his mug, only quick flickers up to see that she’s doing much the same. 

“There’s a drugstore in town, and a secondhand shop. We can head in after breakfast to get you, uh, situated.” Situated, because he’s certain she’s been wearing that same tank top and jean shorts for a few days now, rumpled around the edges. 

“Okay, I’ll pay you back for it, all of it. Soon as I get some money saved. Just– just hold onto the receipts?” Question more than command, he just nods. 

It used to be a mining town, way, way back. Then it went dormant for a while, picked back up and polished over by the commune movement in the seventies, the vestiges of flower power and free love still evident in some of the older residents. Long hair and bluejeans and leather sandals and skin. But mostly, it’s quiet folk. Ranchers and farmers, the occasional dirtbag blowing through, looking to climb something he has no business climbing, wary looks passed at the prospect of a large backpack trundling down the main, and only, drag of town. Newcomers are spectacle, something Joel learned when he moved here four years ago. But the novelty is fast to wear off, everything and everyone blending together in the thin mountain air. Jobs to do and seasons to plan for, after all.

Dolores is new though, and especially unexpected walking through town with him. Eyes lingering hot on the back of his neck, he can only imagine how she’s starting to feel, a small mercy that they’re already stepping inside the secondhand shop. It smells like cedar and damp. He only comes in here when he absolutely needs a new something after something else finally wore itself out, but he knows the owner well enough.

“Patty?” 

“In the back, give me a minute!” She doesn’t take a minute, already blustering out from the back of the shop, a crooked grin when she sees him.

“Joel Miller, been a while since you’ve been in here. Did those jeans of yours finally–” Patty stops mid-sentence, mid-stride, her eyes stuttered stuck on Dolores, who looks about ready to dissolve, hands clasped across her waist like she might cave in on herself. 

“Patty, this is a friend of mine. She’s gonna be staying with me a while and needs some clothes.” Patty looks perplexed, clearly waiting for him to explain the rest, though she doesn’t press when he stays silent, her attention settling back on Dolores.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you then. I’m Patty, but you already knew that.” Surprise when Patty holds her hand out for a shake and Dolores easily reciprocates, though he supposes the terms they’re meeting on are a little less jarring than what happened last night. 

“I’m Dolores, nice to meet you.”

“Huh, you don’t hear that name too often these days.” Patty has always been something of a force, and now is no different, Joel barely getting in a low murmur that he’ll meet Dolores outside of the store when she’s finished. Patty nods absent-mindedly when he tells her to put the cost on his tab, too busy coaxing Dolores further into the store, something about jeans and sweaters for the soon to come snap of fall the last thing he hears as he steps outside. 

…

“Is Sarah visiting soon?” Joel pauses in placing the items on the checkout counter, at first confused by Rod’s question. But then he realizes that yes, this haul looks much like what he picks up when his daughter comes to visit. Toothbrush and toothpaste, because she always manages to forget them, and feminine products that he’s been buying long enough for her that he doesn’t feel the least bit bashful about putting them in his basket. His best guess for what Dolores might need. This time, not for Sarah.

“Uh, no, no. Just have a friend staying with me for a while.” He knows that everyone in town is going to run with the word friend. In his mid-forties, he’s one of the youngest members of the community, and there’s been plenty of times when one of his well-meaning neighbors has tried to set him up with their daughter who’s just visiting, but it could be more than just visiting, you know. Yeah, right. He prefers the coyotes. 

Rod finishes ringing him up, a nod and another comment about the oncoming fall that Joel agrees with, friendly enough, always speaking in terms of seasons out here. For now though, the mid-day sun is still unforgiving, burning the tips of his ears as he sits down on the bench outside the secondhand shop. A few people pass, all greeting him by name, and he does the same. It’s easy in a town like this, not too many to remember anyways. 

Eventually, Dolores comes out with a thick stack of folded clothes in her arms, a pair of worn-looking work boots settled on top. 

“All set?” 

“Yeah, thank you.” 

“I think I did okay at the drugstore, just let me know if you need anything else.” He rests the brown paper bag on his hip, stepping into stride beside her as they walk back to his car, reminding him of that mistake he needs to set right.

“Gotta get this car back to the station and pick up my truck. We’ll stop there on the way back.” She stiffens and stops instantly, her shoulders hiking up high and hackled as she frowns at him, making no move to get into the car now.

“That’s not– not like that. You can wait in the truck, I just have to go in for a minute, okay?” Cagey, a broken bird getting ready to attempt lift-off. He feels himself holding his breath for her response. It doesn’t come in words, another nod as she ducks into the passenger seat, her bundle of clothes settling in her lap, palms smoothing over fabric again and again and again. 

The thought occurs to him again as they drive toward the station. What the fuck is he doing? This jagged woman, all skittish and sharp around her worn-away edges. Though not much time to consider it as they pull into the lot, a new problem presenting itself.

“You go wait in the truck, alright? Don’t worry about this.” She scoffs, a broken piece of a laugh in the back of her throat as her eyes stay trained on the tow in the station’s lot, her husband’s car still hooked to its cable. He doesn’t give her time to question it, just nestles his truck’s keys on top of her pile of clothes and reaches across her to open her door, mindful to keep plenty of space between his arm and her. Wordlessly, she acquiesces, shuffling over to the truck Joel had jerked his head toward. 

“Morning, Miller.”

“Morning, what’s going on out there?” John sighs behind a swig of coffee, leaning against the front desk in the office of the station. Big man, amicable man, lived in this town his whole life, wife and two kids still in elementary school that they have to ride the bus a half hour to get to. He was who offered Joel this job about a year after he moved to town, something about not minding an extra pair of hands and eyes on the team.

“Someone reported an abandoned car on the side of the interstate early this morning. Just ran the plates, turns out it was called in stolen in Lincoln, Nebraska two days ago.” A longer than eight hour drive, he thinks, though he keeps his face unmoving, just a hum of acknowledgement to what John tells him. 

“Well that’s something else.”

“That isn’t all. Apparently, the guy is pretty sure it was his wife who stole it, because she went missing the same day. If you ask me, a woman’s gotta have a real good reason to just pick up and run away like that.” That sick feeling starts to slurry in his stomach again, though he tamps it down with a hard clear of his throat. 

“It’s quite the story, John. But where’s the wife then?”

“That’s the thing. The car was abandoned, not a sign of anyone around. All we found inside was a ratty-looking book in the passenger’s seat.” 

“Huh.” He glances back out into the lot over his shoulder, rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s still thinking through what John just told him. What he’s really doing is checking on Dolores, still in the passenger’s seat of his truck, worrying at her thumbnail between her teeth. 

“Anyways, if you see a lost-looking woman wandering around, bring her in. Though I reckon she’s long gone by now, God bless her.” Joel nods, talking numbly through all the requisite things he must, shifts and schedules, relief in his ringing ears when he steps back outside into the hard bake of the sun. He takes one more look at the tow from over the hood of his car, a shake of his head, a sigh, a conclusion, and then the slam of his car door.

…

“Can I help?” He nearly drops the pail of water he was carrying she startles him so bad. All cleaned up, in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, already fitting into the landscape, squinting at him through the late-afternoon glare. 

“If you want, you can grab that other pail and come help me top up their water.” A little unsteady with the slosh of it, she still manages just fine, following him out into the pasture, the flock already nosing closer to their water troughs. 

“Are they all girls?” Something like wonder laces through her question, taking a tentative step closer to one of the sheep, too domestic for Joel’s taste, though Dolores just laughs when the animal noses at her open palm.

“There’s two rams, they’re always a little late to the party, but you can just see them over that hill. The one on the left is Casper, and the one on the right is Lloyd.” 

“So you can tell your sheep apart, but not your chickens?” That’s new, a crackle to her words that makes him laugh as he finishes filling the water trough. But she’s still focused on the lady who is now demanding her full attention, snuffling at the hem of her shirt as she scratches between her ears. 

“Does this girl have a name?” 

“That’s Avril. My, uh, my daughter named her when I first got her.” She smiles, a little laugh when the sheep starts to jaw at the fabric of her shirt.

“Like that pop singer?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She was a big fan as a teen.”

“My little sister was too.” Her face falls the instant the words leave her mouth, the bitter flavor of the past turning her quiet all over again. Another piece that he tucks away somewhere in his mind, still quick to change the subject, to keep her in the present.

“Forgot to mention, I talked with Sal in town– he owns that diner. Said he was looking for a new waitress to work day shifts. I know it ain’t much but–”

“No, that’s– anything is good, perfect.” The sheep is starting to pull at the bottom of her shirt, Dolores too polite to do anything more than pat her lightly on the head, a small sound of protest when the fabric starts to get rucked up her stomach by the animal’s continued mouthing. 

“You know better than that, c’mon now, get.” He gives the sheep a gentle shove, earning himself a dejected bleat, though she finally gives up Dolores’ shirt, joining the rest of the flock in their huddle around the trough. For her part, Dolores doesn’t take two steps back to his two steps closer. For his part, Joel tries not to pay too much attention to this fact.

“So, should I go talk to Sal tomorrow?” He has to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the crumpled hem of her shirt, settling for stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yeah, I’ll take you over there tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Mmhmm, uh, yeah, thank you.” She seems to be holding words back beneath the pinch of her brow and the tight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Joel waits, watching her rub her palms down the front of her jeans, like a little quick heat will coax more voice out. Finally, she lets out a breath that clips itself like a laugh, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I guess I’m waiting.”

“Waiting?” 

“Yeah, you know, like, for the catch?” She says it squinting, her arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip pulled between her teeth when she finishes.

“I– that’s not– there’s no catch. You seem like you need some help, and, well, I can.” Help, still a word she’s not familiar with, something falling in her face when he says it. 

This woman who is a stranger to help. This woman who is still a stranger to him, if he’s being honest. What he knows, she has a little sister. What he knows, the bruises painted dark and dull along her arms make him sick with the want to do something for her. What he knows, the small slip of delight that slackens her frown as she watches the sheep nudge and nuzzle against each other makes him giddy with the want to do something for her. 

Stranger or not, help, because he can. Care, because he can.

...........................

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped) : @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @darkroastjoel @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @softlyspector

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

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1. Hi. Thank you for the last itmf, the recommendations made me cry. Again thanks to the hard work of the mods.

Right now for itmf I'm looking for fanfics where Wei Wuxian says "fuck it" to the cultivation world and everyone think "Good riddance" just to end up regretting. Extra points if LWJ goes with him or call out everyone. Similar to "The Line Between Good and Evil" by Dandelion_sama ( Really good fic) @anime-trash-parody

you've heard that melody before by Stratisphyre (M, 65k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, POV Multiple, Multiple Canon Character Deaths, Depictions of depression, Light Dom/sub, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics) maybe? people don't say "good riddance" b/c he cast some sort of blanket amnesia spell, but they SURE DO REGRET IT

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Canonical Accidental Baby Acquisition, Families of Choice, References to Depression, Happy Ending, I Swear To God I’m Giving Them A Happy Ending, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Well Except WN But He Was Already Dead So, Fix-It of Sorts) he does go back

The Line Between Good and Evil by Dandelion_sama (G, 34k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, What-If, Rebirth, Time Travel, kind of Mass Reborn, reverse uno, Canon-Typical Violence, WIP)

The Best I Can by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 26k, LJY & WWX, wangxian, WWX talking to his donkey, Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Drama, Recovery, Coming of Age, Secret Identity Fail, Friendship, Rogue Cultivator LWJ, Road Trips, POV Multiple, Happy Ending)

focal, filler, and line by bosbie (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, flower shop au, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining, falling in love, WWX is not recognized in Dafan mountain, slice of life, WIP)

🔒 My Reason To Live by HeloSoph (Not rated, 3k, LSZ & WWX, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mound, Child LSZ, He's actually a Wei..., Suicidal Thoughts, Not Cultivation world friendly, Not JC friendly, not NMJ friendly, not LQR friendly, not JGS friendly, YLLZ WWX, WWX Deserves Better, And this time... he knows this..., A-Yuan is the best boy, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent WWX, BAMF WWX, wwx and a-yuan leave the BM..., WWX Leaves The Cultivation World, and they set on a journey to find a new home...)

And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Memory Loss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Screw the Cultivation world tbh, The Lan precepts deserves better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, domestic life, Social justice boyfriends wangxian, Happy Ending)

Home isn’t Where the Heart is. by Hauntcats (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly)

( 🔒 but I'm not in charge of sorrow (so please don't ask me when) by Tavina (M, 75k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & OCs, LXC & NHS, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Passive Suicidal Ideation, Found Family, Unconventional Families, Families of Choice, Post-Canon, Post-Guānyīn Temple Scene, What’s a Reconciliation Anyway?, Internalized Acephobia, Depression, Mental Health Issues, An Absolute Boatload of Nie OCs, Background characters and relationships, Intergenerational Trauma, the Horrific Persistence of Memory, NHNS Needs a Hug, NMJ is dead even when he's alive, JGY is also dead but like you get the impression he used to be alive, Sometimes 'just walk out' IS the answer, Non-Chronological, lots of people are dead in this fic and this fic is about why it's not okay) If you’d like another character doing the same thing, ie fucking off and leaving the cultivator world )

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2. Helloooo, can I have for the next ITMF some fics with something like ghost WWX? I know there's a tag but I've seen some fics where the authors don't tag them with that, and some where he's not actually a ghost (more like a memory or apparition?) that shows up randomly in the cultivation world. Both work for me (just no JC bashing please!). Thank you! @jiangclaritybell

🧡 Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining, for 20+ years as per the course with lwj)

🔒 The Time Traveler's Soul by mondengel (Not rated, 2k, wangxian, time travel, podfic by flamingwell)

🔒 scatter and sunder by silversshadow (T, 15k, XuanLi, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Canon Divergence)

Teatime with the Dead by Winxhelina (T, 6k, wangxian, Ghost WWX, Love Confessions, Kisses, Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst,bGhost City)

one good thing by Yuu_chi (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost WWX, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear there really is a happy ending, And an alarming amount of rabbits, [Podfic] One Good Thing by jellyfishfire)

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3.

Are there any fics which feel like this?

Or where wwx feels like this?

Thankyou very much

Also all these arts are by Ibuki Satsuki @constellationdks

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4. Hi! I’m looking for fics where wwx cries in the middle of the night and lwj comforts him and vise versa maybe they woke the other up bc they were sobbing. Wangxian hugs and having emotional intimacy each other. Thank you!

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort) here's a GREAT fic that's all about that

hold me close by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (E, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Grief, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Character Study, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex) If I may plug my own fic, there's a scene where lwj wakes from a nightmare and cries and wwx comforts him

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5. inmf lwj whump. the heavier, the better. happy ending appreciated, but not necessary. Physical whump is nice, but ain't picky. Thank you for the hard work! @jawla-mukhi

Stained With Blood and Tears by FaramirsBlessing (G, 63k, wangxian, LXC/JC, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst w Happy Ending, Hurt LWJ, Doctors & Physicians, Chinese medicine, Medical Procedures, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Pet Names, People cry, Bedside Vigils, nobody dies tho, Sad WWX, Night Hunts, Post-Canon, JC is a good brother, Poisoning, Forehead Kisses, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, WWX loves his husband's hair okay, Cuddling & Snuggling, Delirium, mix of novel and series, so much hand holding, Chaste Kisses, resentful energy, the juniors ship all the adults, they are the humor in this tbh, PTSD, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

New Perspective Series by mrcformoso (T, 35k, WangXian, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, Introspection, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, Regretful, LWJ Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ)

a buried and burning flame by otherhippo (hippopotamus) (T, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda dark?, Angst with a Happy Ending, does it count as bedsharing if theres...no bed, Imprisonment, Hurt/Comfort)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx's biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

🔒the map of days by everythingispoetry (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death)

Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture) LWJ is kept as a sex slave by the Wen sect

hold me close by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (E, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Grief, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Character Study, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex) LWJ struggles with WWX's death, even after WWX's return

Lan Yuan's War by BurningTea (G, 196k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Sick LWJ, Hurt/comfort, Eventual Happy Ending)

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6. itmf fic where wwx cheats on lwj

~*~

7. itmf fics about granny wen! any fics about granny wen being a bamf, or being the (grand)parental all of our favs desperately need. looking for feel good fics. some angst is okay, but a happy ending is a must. ty all!

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly) Not sure if this counts as it's not really about Granny Wen, but she does become sect leader of the Wen Remnants in this & mingles with other sect leaders at a discussion conference

Granny Knows Best by The_Snarkivist (T, 5k, OYZZ/WN, JL/LSZ, Getting Together, Fluff, Accidental Elderly Acquisition, More OYZZ content in 2022 agenda, WN Centric, Let WN Be Happy Agenda, Happy Ending, fast burn, Granny does know best, POV WN, Post-Canon)

~*~

8. hii how are you? I'm in the mood for a fic where either wwx or lwj go incoherent (sexually maybe) and the other takes care of them.

thank u sm for ur work and time!! @mercurygirlwt28

To Know, To Be Known Series by cqlorphan (E, 38k, WangXian, PWP, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Cock Warming, Multiple Orgasms, Marathon Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, sex tears, gratuitous use of names, Begging, this is actually...really soft, Kink Discovery, Post-Canon, Switch WangXian, Cock rings, Rimming, Edging) Lwj definitely goes incoherent a few times!

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9. Please recommend some wangxian mafia au/ dark wangji modern au fics . Moreover Mafia wangji is so hott🥵 @itzweiwuxian

🔒🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

to give a snapdragon by suton (T, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mob, Dark LWJ, Minor ZhuiYi, Ambiguous/Open Ending) Short but sweet!

luminous by azuresummer (E, 50k, WIP, WangXian, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant LWJ, Submissive WWX, Modern AU, Merpeople, A/B/O Dynamics, Dark LXC, Dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Crime Boss LWJ, Omega WWX, Siren WWX, Merperson WWX, Hurt WWX, WWX Whump, Precious WWX, Spoiled WWX, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nesting, Scenting, Power Imbalance, Obsession, Kidnapping, Organized Crime, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Excessive Amounts of Tenderness, Pining LWJ, Dark WangXian)

We do have a Mafia / Cop / Detective / Thief comp if you haven't checked it out yet ^^

how to be a heartbreaker by sweetlolixo (E, 105k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Sugar Baby WWX, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Pining LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Crossdressing WWX, Seductress WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, Dirty Talking LWJ, They Do Fall In Love and there’s Fluff, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, Off the Charts Sexual Tension, Size Kink, Daddy Kink, degradation kink) lwj darker in the 2nd part of this, this one is real good too. 2nd part has ambiguous ending.

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10. Hello! I'd like to make a request for the next fic finder- it's not necessarily itmf, more like "does it exist?" Crossover with tgcf, but focusing on a Guzi and A-Yuan friendship? I've only ever seen 2 artworks (both from the same artist). And I've tried searching, but no luck, does anyone else know if such a story exists? Or is too niche a request? Thank you ❤ @theladypeartree

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11. Hello! I'm in the mood of a fic where Wwx feels hurt/insecure about Lwj not burning paper money to him while he was dead. @annebaneriddle

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12. Hi! For ITMF, could you recommend me a fic where WWX collect children and become their father figure/mentor? I want MXY is one of those children if you can but other is fine too. I prefer if its not modern AU, except if it was modern with cultivation/magic. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)

Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, [PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

🔒and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They're Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

13. I'm looking for niche au fics! The more obscure the better: I've previously encountered figure skating, amish, cave diving, and surgeon aus. No WIPS please :) @mostergreentea

Into the Depths by elytchaeke (T, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Cave Diving, Slow Burn, not that slow, Speluncaphobia, Claustrophobia, Descriptions of Corpses, Drowning, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Sharing Body Heat, The Inherent Eroticism of Wordless Communication, Corpse Handling) cave diving fic that op is talking about

The Amish AU by bufflehead, goofs_n_gaffs (T, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, but they're amish, Crack, Not taken seriously, Slurpee Acquisition, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigan, rated h for hector, pitchforks, References to Shakespeare, Cultural Appropriation, of the amish, Fishing, Buggies, Violence Against Chickens, Bad Cooking, Goose Metaphors, First Kiss, Party Host JW) amish fic that op is talking about

Always Be Closing by betts (E, 32k, WangXian, QingXian, Modern AU, America, Office, Kid Fic, Drunken Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Divorce, Falling In Love, Bank Robbery, Secret Relationship, Co-workers) commercial lending au

🧡 Faire thee well by Scrippio (T, 77k, WangXian , ChengQing, XuanLi, 3Zun, Modern AU, Renaissance Faire, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slow Burn)

[Podcast] New Year, New Pod! jellyfishfire, kisahawklin (G, 2.5-3 hrs, Modern AU, Streaming, MP3, Cold Read, Trailers, Recommendations) @kisahawklin and @jellyfishfire did a great podcast recommending various fic and podfic where MDZS cast have unusual (for them) occupations. I bet a bunch of these would scratch your itch!

there is no limited dimensions by Stratisphyre (M, 122k, WangXian, NieLan, MianQing, WN/Other(s), Star Trek Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Assumed Character Death, Minor Character Death Tags on Each Chapter, references to non-con, references to canonical slavery, (The Orion Syndicate is just really bad okay?), bizarre space mpreg, Implied Future Pairings, Implied NHS/Others, POV Multiple, Accidental Child Acquisition, Found Family, Implied Future 3zun, Genius WWX) Star Trek AU (you don't need any familiarity with star trek to read)

Waiting for Spring Series by thievinghippo (E, 225k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sports, Baseball, Switch WangXian, mentions of past emotional abuse, slight angst, Happy Ending, Pining, Masturbation)

Creatures of Emotion by thievinghippo (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern AU, Rimming, Phone Sex, Blow Jobs, Office Sex)

light a lantern (and guide me home) by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (T, 63k, WangXian, Moth WWX, Witch LWJ, Tea, Plants, Mountains, Loneliness, Curses, Curse Breaking, Melancholy, Friendship, Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Thunderstorms, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Memories) mothxian/witchji!

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts) incredible madoka magical au

🧡🔒 Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting) living cultivation history museum au

🧡 A Knight in Shining Armor by thievinghippo (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Fluff, Meet-Cute)

Falling to the Rhythm by Selenay (E, 128k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Dance, Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer!WWX, Violinist LWJ, Pining While Dancing, Oblivious WWX, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Gratuitous dancing descriptions, Slow Burn, [Podfic] Falling to the Rhythm by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, WangXian,Modern AU, Beekeeping AU, Meet-Cute, Comedy, Fluff, Bees)

🔒some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Wei Wuxian’s Home for Lost Creatures by Stratisphyre (G, 22k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fusion, Fluff, Single Dad LWJ, Near Drowning, injured animals, First Meetings, Falling In Love)

as if you were a mythical thing by daltoneering (M, 17k, WangXian, Historical, Science Fiction, Magical Realism, Steampunk, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, WWX Master of Clocks)

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, hairstylist AU, WWX owns a salon, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental Style)

C’est toi pour moi by eatmyass (T, 49k, WangXian, Jab We Met AU, Modern AU, Strangers to Lovers, travelling, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Fluff, Slow Burn, Pining, POV LWJ, Endgame WangXian, All Is Not As It Seems, No cheating whatsoever!, Paris: the city of hate)

🧡 don’t threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media)

Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! series by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 59k, Modern, College/University AU, The Great British Bake Off AU, Humor)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

always on my mind series by sami (E, 41k, wangxian, LWJ/Others, LWJ & JYL, Modern, references to past LWJ/others, references to past WWX/WQ, Family, Sexual Tension set in the early 90s, Grief, Erratic Gay Superstar Musician LWJ, life is what happens in the in between, Fluff, Children, Pregnancy, not mpreg, Parenthood, Music Videos, LWJ's Gremlin Tendencies, WWX's Gremlin Tendencies, Drag, Daytime Television, Bitches Get Things Done, fictional daytime talk shows, Q&A, Slice of Life, Awards shows, any resemblance between OCs and real people living or dead are coincidental I swear, Communication, and how LWJ is bad at it, LWJ's weirdly wholesome kink inclinations, LWJ's aggressively artistic musical career, References to Major Character Death, Celebrity stuff, Superstar musican LWJ)

🧡 I Don't Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, wangxian, Modern, Reality Show, Idols, Celebrity, Social Media, Epistolary, Romance, Fluff, Footnotes, Kissing, Poetry, Podfic Available)

You're Home, I'm Home by Pip (Moirail) (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ice Skating, Olympics, Falling In Love, Anal Sex, Rimming, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Ice skater LWJ, Hockey player WWX)

down by the water by astrolesbian (E, 60k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Surfer LWJ, Surfer WWX, Loneliness, complicated family relationships, mention of drowning, but no actual drowning is described, fluff and smut and angst, Reconciliation)

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14. itmf fics set during the cloud recesses study arc, with wwx and lwj exploring their sexualities with each other... basically having sex which is underage, but wholeheartedly consensual and wholesome. just the vibes being them excited cause they really like each other but its their first times, so they want to be careful. bottom!lwj preferred, or with neither topping or bottoming.

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15. itmf lwj being held hostage or used as blackmail

Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture) (link in #5) Alter works for this request as well since LWJ is being held prisoner to ensure LXC's good behaviour

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

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16. Hey, here after a long time. Hope you guys are doing well.

ITMF everyone simping over Wei WuXian. Something like Touch That Body, (It's Not Mine) @tinyfoxpeach

~*~

17. heyy there thanks for your hard work! do you have any fic recs on wangixan post canon married life that's basically fluff? or any fics that wwx is injured or sick and lwj gets worried, protective and looks after him? thanks in advance! :) @aquiver-heart

small mercies by mellowflicker (E, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon Fix-It, as in wwx doesn't walk away but stays to take care of his zhanzhan, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Switching)

the lives of birds by bleuett (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Fluff and Humor, Family Feels, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Rimming, Blow Jobs)

As You Like It by cosmicmilktea (T, 8k, WangXian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Tea, Finding out preferences, Childhood Memories, Yunmeng trio feels, child rearing, Post-Canon, Very Very Light Angst, Fluff) Such lovely married wangxian. Wwx researching and helping lwj learn what is to his taste (literally, as in tea and food)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[marvelmaniac715]

I don’t know if it’s because it’s 1 am right now but I am very sad about Ruth Fleming and I’m gonna talk about it, you can’t stop me:

I’m also a theatre kid - I’ve been taking acting classes since the age of eight - so I recognise the pure joy and triumph in Ruth’s eyes as she performs ‘Just For Once’, finally taking a starring role, but also the wistful sadness because she will never be able to properly play the role (Lauren Lopez is an incredible actress). She is so happy, possibly the happiest she’s ever been - she’s free from the bullying and is able to indulge in her greatest dream for just a moment. And the dream is more than just the chance to perform. It’s joked about throughout the show that Ruth is horny and wants to get with someone, but the context is so much sadder. Ruth is incredibly lonely, even telemarketers won’t talk to her - she just wants somebody to touch her, to love her. In her song, her crowning glory, she can imagine a suburban life, glorifying the struggles of a middle-aged mother because she will never have even this, and she knows it. People don’t ever leave Hatchetfield, and if they do they never return. Ruth is seen as weird, and reputations are everything in Hatchetfield. By the time Ruth graduates, nobody will want to date her if they knew her in high school. Nobody will ever start a family with Ruth, so she throws herself into her performance with so much passion and desperate hope, because at heart she is still a child, barely eighteen, and children dream of love. Then, Max boos her, just as Ruth is happiest. He mocks her with theatrical terms, turning what she loves into another way to bully her, to cow her into submission. Ruth Fleming dies as she lived - alone. Then, what happens after she dies? The police mention Ruth’s demise to Grace and from what I remember, the girl barley reacts. Then, in the final mention of Ruth, Grace makes a joke as she asks Peter if his cell plan covers calls to Hell because “she’s bisexual and dead, where else would she be?” Ruth is seen as a joke even in her last moments. Unwept, unmourned. Her best friend died before she did and she never got a chance to truly mourn. Who will pray for Ruth now she’s gone? Certainly not Peter and Steph, not with Grace’s looming insanity to worry about. Ruth Fleming is played as a joke, but she is a truly tragic character, and more people need to acknowledge this.

[steviewashere]

Leaving is Hard, But Loving You is Easy

Rating: General CW: None Apply Tags: Post-Canon, Post Season 4, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Eddie Munson is Leaving Town, Saying Goodbye, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kisses, Making Out, Love Confessions, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington

💕—————💕 He watches Eddie Munson leave in the middle of a Wednesday evening, 1991. It’s just turned 6:10PM and the sunlight is dipping low. There’s a chill in the air. Though he’s wearing a sweater, the breeze is felt more with the expected absence that will be left. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the guy over the last several years. If it meant he’d be standing and staring at the guy’s back. Watching him lug boxes into a van that’s probably older than the both of them. Toying with the collar of his sweater like the soothed over fabric will warrant him to not be so lonely. Maybe it doesn’t help that it smells like cigarettes. Steve doesn’t smoke anymore.

“That’s everything, I think. Well, I’m hoping,” Eddie’s saying, turning around. His voice is low and raspy tonight. Like it is when it’s been overused. Makes sense, considering he’d been talking through goodbyes and big plans and sincere farewells. Steve’s the last on his list. He’s not sure whether to feel heartbroken or…Who is he kidding? Of course he’s heartbroken.

One doesn’t become friends with somebody like Eddie Munson and then not be overcome with emotion when he leaves. But also. He doesn’t want to just be friends. Steve holds to himself, tight around the elbows, hunching inwards. Maybe if he’s small, the leaving will hurt less. He also doesn’t allow himself to look. Instead focused on a spot of rust on the van’s bumper. At the brand new DMV sticker on his license plate; it won’t expire for a while now. When he’s not even in Hawkins anymore. When he’s long gone elsewhere.

Eddie sits down right where Steve’s looking. Legs extended in front of him. A cigarette dangling between his chapped lips. Not even lit up. He doesn’t have a lighter right now anyway. Steve should know, Eddie’d been complaining about it for the last three days. He mumbles around the stick, “I’m not going to miss this place.”

“Really?” Steve finds himself asking. Though, he realizes it comes out more as a sigh. A breath. A certain type of mourning. He zeroes in on the knee hole of Eddie’s jeans. Large and manmade. Rippling on the edges and cinched oddly from strings of taut denim that Eddie has since plucked away. Probably from toying with the hole too much. From being restless on Steve’s couch during movie nights or birthed from slow lulls in Dungeons & Dragons campaigns or simply made from being shoved over in games of tag at Hopper’s barbecues.

“Well, yeah, Stevie,” Eddie says. As if it should be obvious. “People don’t like me ‘round here. I’ve felt that way for years. Now it’s my chance to leave.” He sighs through his nose. Like he’s actually smoking the cigarette in his mouth. Then, he continues quietly, “The only good thing to come out of…That hellhole and everything…Was the money to keep me silent. Put it away safely. Now, I’m gonna use it to find myself in a place where I’ll just be a speck. Nobody knows me, that kind of shit.”

Steve nods slowly. Agreeing minutely. If only because Eddie wants him to. “There’s not going to be anything you’ll miss about Hawkins?” Why does a part of him want to hear Eddie say his name?

He shrugs. “I mean I’ll miss having band practice with my buddies. And the Hellfire Club because I started it, y’know? I’ll always have an ache in my heart towards Wayne and the trailer, the first place that ever felt like home.” Eddie plucks the cigarette from his mouth and rolls it back and forth between his index finger and thumb. Both ends are practically dry. He’s staring at it. Contemplating. Then, he sighs mournfully. “I’ll miss the first day I came here. How everything was small yet meaningful. How after a week of walking around town, the folks at all the stores knew my name and my favorite things. Benny…Back at Benny’s Diner, you know the place, he had my favorite order down. I’ll miss the people nobody knows anymore.”

But then he looks dead on at Steve. And Steve burns with how intense everything has come to be. In the space of reconstruction after what such disaster he’s experienced, Eddie’s eyes and his bared soul are enough to nearly knock him down. Take the wind out of him for the moment.

“I will always miss the people here, Steve,” he rasps. “The ones that mattered.”

Steve swallows. “Makes sense,” he musters. Then, he does something he knows will destroy him, he sits down next to Eddie. Shoulder, hip, the outside of their opposite feet connecting in a warm line. His clothed elbow scratches roughly on Eddie’s bare one. He looks out at the space in front of him. The dirt road that gives the idea of a driveway to Forest Hills. At the dead grass that has since wilted from the winter weather. He notices the imprint of their shoes. Dangerously close together. He sighs.

Eddie’s quiet next to him. No longer fiddling with the cigarette. Still where he sits. Stoic in thought. “You’re the best of them,” he whispers.

Steve hums questioningly.

“You,” Eddie says, again like it should be obvious. “Steve, you’re one of my favorite people. Did you know that?”

“No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Gently, Eddie nudges his shoulder. Knocking them loose, but settling back warmly. Like he can’t get enough of them touching. Simply sitting there. Doing nothing. Saying goodbye. “Well, you are. You changed my whole worldview. Taught me how to be a better friend. To rid of a lot of my stupid high school bullshit. You’ve—“ He takes a moment to himself. A silence. Contemplating again. Searching. “—You’ve been there. For me. For everybody. A guiding hand. A voice in the darkness of a nightmare. A fixture. You’re wonderful. An experience that I don’t think I’ll ever—“ His next word is muffled.

Muted by Steve’s mouth on his. A hand to Eddie’s cheek, cupping him. Another to the back of his head, tangling hair around his fingers, pushing them together. He moves his lips slowly. Savoring. How Eddie’s lips are slightly cracked, yet plush soft. The breath that puffs onto the corner of his mouth from Eddie’s nose, apparent in the way their heads are angled to meet each other. He doesn’t explore with his tongue. Not at all. Leaving this to the simple movements of one another, the carnivorous way he tastes Eddie. Placating this goodbye with years worth of emotion and yearning, bottled up in his ribcage, and overflowing like a rolling boil.

Though when he takes a breath, he’s forced instead to gasp. To hiccup. To sob. Eddie carefully grasps him by the cheeks. Pulling him back enough to take a deep, swallowing, consuming breath. His thumbs tickle under Steve’s eyes. Patting at the warm skin. The edges of his fingernails gently press into the soft give of his bottom eyelids.

“Stevie?” He questions lowly. “Sweetheart, you’re…You’re crying.”

He sniffles noisily. His hand crumples in Eddie’s hair, probably tugging at the strands, but it’s not shown on Eddie’s face. Instead of answering, he dives back in. Pressing more firmly. Squishing the tip of his nose in Eddie’s left cheek. Slicking their chins with his spit. Stuttering through gasps, sobbing on his lips, squinting with every soft cry. He can’t even fully see Eddie’s face. Not his eyes, which he fell in love with first. Or the way his cheeks are lighting up red, given by the warmth radiating onto Steve’s own skin. He can’t see and he can’t breathe, but he’d be damned if he stopped right now. His other hand moves down to the side of Eddie’s neck, squeezing as if attempting to choke him out. The rapid thrum of Eddie’s pulse under his thumb. He thinks if he were to die in this kiss, he could be resuscitated by Eddie’s beating heart alone.

While Eddie is enthusiastic to respond, his eyes don’t close in bliss. And he doesn’t move further into Steve’s space. If anything, he’s inching away. Pulling again at Steve’s head. Forcing them apart. “Steve, you don’t want to—“

“You’re everything,” Steve is sobbing out. “Everything to me.” He swallows harshly. His tongue is heavy with saliva and emotion. “You stayed here with me after…After all the bullshit. When Robin left for school. And everybody graduated. When they moved on,” he’s rambling. He should stop. Get himself in line. Try to make sense of every word falling from between his lips. But he can’t grasp them. They flow. They spill. He’s boiling.

“Baby, I’m going, too,” Eddie cooed sadly. “I’m not staying here.”

“I know. I know, Eds, I know,” Steve mutters. He gasps through a hiccup, reigning in his tears, at least slightly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Tell me what, Steve?”

He bounces his eyes back and forth between Eddie’s. Their roundness. And the dark encompassing color to them. How they pull him in like black holes. He could probably destroy Steve, especially with what is said next.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve confesses. “I’ve been in love with you,” he reiterates, voice cracking and wet and too thick. “For years, Eds.”

The hands on his cheeks slither down to his shoulders. For a moment, his head is heavy enough to careen him to the side. His head resting on the closed back door. He looks on with half-lidded eyes and a shiver against his spine. Eddie’s looking low at Steve’s chest, where his heart is. He squeezes the sweater material under his hands.

He swallows heavily in the stilled silence. Whispers, “I’m flattered, Steve—“ And Steve straightens back up, flailing a little to get out of this hold. To make his escape. To just leave when he isn’t wanted. But Eddie holds to him harshly. Keeping him still. “—I really am. But what you said doesn’t change my mind. I’m leaving.”

“Tell me, then,” Steve shoots. His voice flat. Lifeless.

“Tell you…”

“That you love me, too. Please tell me that.”

Eddie sighs again. His hands pressing harder on Steve’s shoulders. If it’s not his eyes, then Steve will gladly be ruined by Eddie’s hands. “Steve. That’s not a good idea.” He states it like it’s factual.

To hell with that.

“Then lie to me,” Steve pleads. “You don’t have to mean it. Just tell me—“

“I don’t want to lie to you, Steve. And besides, I’d only be lying to myself if I said it like that,” Eddie says. He moves his left palm up to Steve’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Tickling it down to where it touches the tops of his shoulders. Moves back up and dully scratches at his scalp. “I do love you, Steve. I do. I love you with every muscle in my body and every freckle on my skin. But…Sweetheart, you’re staying here. I’ll be elsewhere. And I know how you are in relationships. You like being near. You like being able to touch and cherish and hold. You like waking up next to them. You like having a person with you.”

Sometimes knowing Eddie Munson means being known back. And Steve should’ve realized that. He’s been privy to it thousands of times over the last five years. He’s been pulled from his darkest thoughts because of Eddie’s perceptive nature. He’s been taken care of in a lot of aspects. Distracted when he’s bored. Cherished when he’s lack luster.

He moves his own hands down to his lap. Folding them together so he doesn’t do something more stupid than what he’s already done. Something like hold on and never let go. Because Eddie isn’t his. And sure. Maybe they do love each other. Madly. Deeply. Infatuated practically. But Eddie’s right. He’s right and Steve hates that.

“You’re everything to me,” Steve murmurs. “I can’t just let you leave.”

Eddie sighs. A grievance. “Then we’re at a stalemate, baby. I can’t stay.”

“Then take me with you,” Steve says back. Quick as a bullet. Even his words surprise him. He startles back slightly. But his eyes remain on Eddie’s.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Before Eddie blinks. Harshly. Tilting his head to the side. “Are you…You’re not just saying that, right? Do you actually want to leave? Because you didn’t want to before.”

Steve nods. “What’s left for me here anyway, right? I can just go to my house, pack my clothes, the few actual things I have, and we can go.”

This time, it’s Eddie who devours. Swooping in. Sucking on Steve’s lips. Nibbling. Holding onto him as to never let him go again. He barely moves to breathe. But when he does, it’s to whisper, “I would’ve loved you still anyway.”

“Hm?”

“If you didn’t want to come with. I still would’ve loved you. I would wait forever.”

“Well. I don’t want to keep you waiting. Help me pack?”

Eddie’s hands drift to his. He holds. Their fingers tangled. “As long as you won’t regret doing this.” His thumb is warm on the back of Steve’s left hand. It’s kind of funny. How big and moving Eddie seems to always be. Though, in this moment, every ounce of him is dedicated to devotion. To soft caresses and softer words.

Steve gives him a small smile. “The only thing I regret is not telling you that I love you sooner. Come on, Eds.” He tugs on their conjoined hands. “My life starts with you.”

💕—————💕 I thought about them not getting together. I thought about writing it so that Steve's love was unrequited. But I spared you. For today. Maybe not next time. We'll see.

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 3.05

There is a striking absence of noise during breakfast aside from the occasional sound of Jace’s babbling and spoons scraping bowls. It was too quiet—no conversation, no small talk of any kind, not even gunshots lingering in the background outside. The uneasy tension causes the hairs on your arms and neck to raise.

In-between observing Jace attempt to feed himself mushy oatmeal, you watch as Carl picks at his food; he looks so lost. Everyone present was trying their best to look out for him, but he was only beginning to mourn his mom’s death. Sensing you were being watched, you look across the table you’re sitting at to the concrete steps leading to the next room and meet Daryl’s gaze. You hadn’t spoken to him yet that morning, and since there was an unspoken vow of silence, it didn’t feel appropriate to even say good morning.

With the feeling of Daryl’s lips pressing against your own, heat rushes to your face. Just as you start to feel lost in the moment he pulls away, his lips are now ghosting yours. You start to grow nervous when he doesn't say anything, but he finally breaks the silence, whispering, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Placing your hand on the back of his head, you pull him in for another kiss.

“Everybody okay?”

You’re almost startled to hear your brother's voice. As part of his grief, he had been avoiding everyone, including his new baby. You spin around to face him and are glad to see he looks better than when you saw him in the early hours of the morning, his hair, face, and clothes soaked in Walker blood.

After a long pause, Maggie answers, “Yeah, we are.”

You share a look with Hershel, who’s sitting beside you at the table; he had already tried to get through to Rick that he was being reckless and putting his life in danger, but he didn’t listen. The older man looks up at him and says, “What about you?”

“I cleared out the boiler block.”

You hear concern in Daryl’s voice when he asks, “How many were there?”

“I don’t know. A dozen, two dozen. I have to get back. I just wanted to check on Carl.”

You try your best to keep any hints of frustration out of your tone. He could hardly look at the sweet baby girl sleeping in Beth’s arms. “Stay here; rest. We can take the bodies out; you don’t need to do this alone.”

“No, I do.” He walks past you and goes over to Daryl. “Everyone has a gun and a knife?”

Daryl briefly meets your gaze; he swallows the rest of the food in his mouth before answering. “Yeah. We’re running low on ammo, though. Lily and Glenn are going on a supply run this afternoon to get bullets and baby formula, and we cleared out the generator room. Axel’s they’re trying to fix it in case of emergency... We’re going to sweep the lower levels as well.”

“Good. Good.”

When Rick walks out of the cell block, Hershel yells his name, but your brother ignores him. The older man sighs, “It might be time for tough love from a sibling.”

You both nod and settle Jace into Hershel’s arms before standing. Just as you go to leave, you feel a presence behind you and turn to see Carl looking up at you. His eyes widened with worry.

“Aunt Lily?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I go with Daryl and Oscar to clear out the ground floor? I asked Daryl earlier, but he says I need to check with you first.”

His words stung; right now, you were his only parental figure. You straighten the sheriff’s hat on his head and force a smile. “Sure, as long as you listen to what he says.”

“Do you think you’ll get through to my dad?”

“I hope so, munchkin.”

—

“Rick…Rick…” When your brother doesn’t respond to you calling his name for the third time, you say the one thing you know will get his attention, “Richard.”

He freezes just as he reaches the door leading outside. Rick slowly turns back around to face you, frowning. He says, “Nobody ever called me that, but dad.”

“I know,” you say, shaking your head as you walk towards him. “But it got you to stop, didn’t it?”

You had spent roughly twenty minutes trying to find him, and with each passing minute, you became terrified that something bad had happened. He had gotten himself killed by trying to take on too many walkers at once. When you open your mouth to speak, he waves his hand dismissively. “Lily, just don’t.”

Irritated, you clicked your tongue. You felt for Rick; it was obvious he was suffering, but if he continued acting the way he was, Carl and the baby would soon become orphans. When he goes to open the door, you slam his door shut and step in front of it. “I���m worried about you, Rick. I’m worried you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m fine.”

He tries to pull the door open, but you press your full weight against it, stopping him. Rick’s grip on the ax in his hand is so tight, his knuckles turn white. You could hear the walkers outside snarling close by, and Rick was in no fit state to take them on himself. “But what about Carl and your daughter? They need you; I need you.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste the saltiness of tears on your lips.

“How do I move on from this?” He asks. “How do I even begin to recover from this?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I sometimes think about the way we were before the world went to shit, and when I do, it hurts like hell, but it was different for me. The man I fell in love with died long before he died on the farm. I’m not going to tell you how to grieve, because hell if I know, but risking your life isn’t the way to do it.”

His eyes became glossy with unshed tears. “I haven’t even held her yet.”

You say nothing.

“Did you forgive them?”

You chew on your lower lip, struggling to answer him. Did you? In the pre-apocalypse you would have cut ties with both your fiancé and sister-in-law, but in the new world, you didn’t have that luxury to hold onto pain the same way you would have before.

“I was just—” He presses his head against the metal bars of the cell, a sob escaping from his mouth. “We were just beginning to forgive each other, and then she died, and now I’ll never know if we could have made it. But we’ll never know because both Lori and Shane are gone.”

Rick drops the ax in his hand and slides to the floor. You mirror his actions and sit down beside him. “What’s done is done. We can’t bring them back, but we need to keep it together for our kids. And you have a beautiful daughter waiting to meet her father.”

—

While you’re handing Jace over to Beth, Daryl walks over to your bunker. He tilts his head to greet the young girl before looking at you. “Hey, are you and Glenn just getting ready to go?”

“We are just getting ready to go now.”

He says nothing while observing you, checking your ammo, and swiping your knife into its sheath. Beth takes no notice of this because she is so focused on Jace reaching for her hair, not that she seems fazed by it. It’s not until you reach for the long-sleeved top at the end of the bed and place it over the vest top that Daryl finally says something again. “The area has already been checked out; there are hardly any dead roaming. Should be in and out quick.”

Although it seems like a general conversation, the look Daryl is giving you is reassuring. “Yeah?”

He raises his eyebrows and points at your hands. Your fingers were trembling while you pushed the buttons through the holes on the top. Daryl was the only one that noticed. “You worried?”

You sigh, “I’m not worried about the run; I just don’t like leaving Jace, Carl, and the baby when my brother is absent.”

Hershel would no doubt be running point in the cell block while Daryl cleared out the lower level of the prison, but you still couldn’t help but worry about leaving them. Beth was amazing with the babies, but you felt guilty whenever she watched them for too long. On the flip side, you still needed to do your share of supply runs.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to them while you’re gone.”

You press your lips together and smile, “I know.”

“Yo Lily,” Glenn says, standing beside Daryl. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

—

“We just hit the powdered formula jackpot,” Glenn says, holding the store’s door open with his foot so you can get by. “I can’t believe we have all this stuff.”

Aside from a few birds nesting inside the store, it looked as if nobody else had been in it in a long time. There were shelves full of baby formula, diapers, and bottles that you placed either in your backpack or in red baskets. You’d even managed to find some toys for the kids to play with. “Thank God, I’d hate to go back empty-handed.”

“And where is it y’all good people are calling home?”

Being startled by an unfamiliar voice, you drop the baskets to reach for your gun. The man in front of you had blood sprayed across his face and a large blade at the end of his wrist instead of a hand.

Glenn comes up behind you, looking confused. “Merle?”

The man lets out a laugh, places his gun on the ground, and starts to come closer. “Wow!”

“That’s far enough!”

“Okay, okay, honey. Jesus.”

“You made it,” Glenn says, sounding surprised.

Merle, Merle, Merle You knew that name but couldn’t place it, and then it finally clicked for you who this man is. “You’re Daryl’s brother?”

He nods, “Can you tell me, is he still alive? Huh?”

“Yeah.”

Merle looks genuinely relieved to know his brother is safe. “Hey, you take me to him, and I’ll call it even on everything that happened up there in Atlanta. No hard feelings, huh?” When he notices Glenn staring at the large blade, Merle laughs. “Oh yeah. Well, I found myself in a medical supply warehouse. I fixed it up myself. Pretty cool, huh?”

Glenn tries to reason with Merle by saying he’d bring Daryl to him, but you already knew that wasn’t going to work. Even if you hadn’t heard stories about Daryl’s brother being untrustworthy, one glance at him and you'd know he was trouble. Merle expected you to believe he had made it from Atlanta himself, and aside from the blood that belongs to someone else, he looked clean and relatively healthy. You look at the car behind Merle, and in its reflection, you see another gun in his back pocket. He notices you looking and lunges for you.

“Get off me!”

He wrestles you to the ground and holds the gun to your head. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he places the blade in your throat, and you are completely trapped.

"Merle, put the gun down and let her go!” Glenn yells, “Put it down now!”

Merle presses the gun closer to your face, and you tremble with fear when you hear him clicking the safety off. You met Glenn’s gaze and shook your head slowly. “We will never tell you where our camp is.”

“Very mouthy for someone with a gun to her head,” he laughs. “Put the gun in the car, son.”

Glenn reluctantly follows his orders. By the look on his face, you know he’s in a silent agreement that, no matter what, you weren’t telling Merle a damn thing. You’d rather die than lead a man like that to your family. With all the commotion, the garbage-covered street was beginning to fill with walkers.

“Get in the car, Glenn; you’re driving. The three of us are going on a little road trip.”