#make me wanna slide down a cliff

[hecckyeah]

y’all ever have a ship that makes you want to chew a rock? <3

[bleuczennie]

riding park jisung.

mdni, duh. not really proofed but oh well.

tw: degradation, praise (LOL not a trigger idk), crying, slight dom!jisung

you slide your boyfriend’s hard and throbbing cock against your slick folds, your legs already trembling underneath you. the little friction you created with the tip of his cock making you want to just grind against him until you came. but obviously, you didn’t. you wanted more, and if the increasing pressure of his dull nails digging into your plush thighs was anything to go by, he did too… and he was getting impatient.

you whine as he pulls you down onto his cock, shivers wracking your form as your cunt makes more wet squelching sounds the further he pushes you down.

“fuuck… god-!” you say as he pushes all the way to the hilt, stretching you so deliciously like always. you’re panting, skin tingling and heat prickly your neck as you struggle to adjust to his size. he watches you closely, smirking when he sees you struggle like you always do when he first pushes into you, but he’s a sadist, and he decides it’s more fun to watch you struggle for a little. “that’s my good girl,” he says as he caresses your cheek and plants a chaste kiss on one of your tightly closed eyes, “now bounce, slut.”

that got you going, lifting yourself up on wobbly legs all the way to the tip of his dick and dropping yourself back down, whines turning into full on moans as your head tipped back and your pace picked up. you feel his large hand slide up your throat and yank your head back forward, and you stare at jisung’s beautiful face through the clouded slits of your eyes. “eyes on me princess, we’re just getting started.”

he kissed you as you continued to bounce yourself on his cock, clapping noises muffled out by the heavy breathing and the moans of both you and him resounding through the room. you arched your back ever so slightly and when his curved and bulbous head brushed against your sweet spot, you felt your legs turn into jelly. you cursed and moaned loudly as you almost collapsed onto him then and there, but jisung’s grip on your thighs tightened, and he shifted you both down the bed.

“my turn…” your boyfriend said cockily before propping his muscular legs up and lifting your body easily up with his own. you ducked your head in his neck, bracing yourself for what about to happen.

his settled into a brutal pace right of the bat, jackhammering his hips into yours, hitting your cervix so deliciously with every thrust. you could do nothing but sit there and moan wantonly into his chest, gripping his shoulder with all the composure you so desperately needed to hold on to. your cheeks were wet with your tears of overwhelming pleasure.

“h-ha… look at you,” jisung coos in your ear, hips never faltering, “you sound so~ fuck~ fucking beautiful, just for me.”

“a-all for you, fuck-!” you splutter as his hand come down on your ass, a loud slap bouncing off the walls. one hand supports you while another one comes to your hair to pull your face and direct it to his ear. “wanna hear you scream my name when you come, i know you’re close baby.”

“yes! yes, fuck, im so close ji, please let me come!” you says as your stomach tightens, preparing you for the intense burst of your incoming orgasm. he lets go of his grip in your hair and his hand comes down to flick your slick and sensitive clit once, twice, three times.

and that’s all that’s needed before you’re wailing his name, body tensing as your core snaps and your vision blurring. he grunts as he feels the familiar squeeze of your pussy around him as white milky fluid collects forming a ring around the base of his cock. that’s all that he needs to follow you over the cliff, shooting white-hot spurts of cum and fucking it deeper and deeper into you, mind numb with only the memory of how euphoric he feels buried inside your wet heat.

you collapse against him and he wraps his arm around your hot and slick body, heavy breathing the only sounds coming from the both of you. he can’t help the grin as he feels your pussy flutter around his still-hard length.

“that’s my good girl, my perfect angel,” he says as he flips you over without pulling out and draws his hips back, folding your knee to your chest and preparing the both of you for round two.

©️bleuczennie

[sinning-23]

Twice The Fun Pt.2 (Zoro x Reader x Sanji)

WELCOME TO PT.2 you guys!!!! I know I left you on a cliff hanger uhhhh but I’m apologizing for it now lmao! The point from previously still stands! This an 18+ FANFIC SO MINORs gtfo. Uhhhh yep.

Warnings: Warnings: Tagteam, creampie, gagging, light choking, p in v, unprotected, degradation, teasing, praising, double penetration, squirting, multiple orgasms, threesome (good mf lord dude this is wild)

Anyway! Enjoy!

Ps. also….pls excuse any spelling errors. I swear I proofread my work lmao and the shit still gets away from me-

P.P.S if you're feeling the need for some mood music I suggest "All I need" by LLoyd. (you're welcome bby)

PART 1 HERE

You can’t help but thrash your legs a bit as you're drapped over Zoro’s shoulder, at this point, you have a perfect view of Sanji who is keeping a nice pace behind him.

"What is the meaning of this! Release me at once you heathen!" You taunt, gasping when Zoro lands a nice firm smack to you ass again.

"S-Sanji! You just gonna let him do that to me!" You yep, trying to guilt trip the blonde, but the only half smiled/smirked, and bent down just a smidge to met your eyes.

There is a blaze of desire you know all too well behind that blue. His tongue darts out for just a moment, his piercing peeking out so sligtly. It makes your stomach flutter.

"I do recall him saying you like that. I'll leave it to him. Besides, I think you need it when you thought you could just sneak around and fuck us both without us finding out." He explains, the color in your face dropping.

Ok so you like already KNEW but like the confirmation of it all was insane to you.

"I-I wait! I can explain!" You whimper, heart beating faster and faster the more you realized where you ere headed.

Your room.

You’d only ever really hooked up with them in their own rooms...but now they were about to absolutely MIX your shit in your own.

"Too late for that." Zoro chimes, pushing your door open and setting you a bit harshly onto your bed.

You bounce upwards and see Sanji close and locked the door. The tesnison is killing you now, the way the twoof them hover over your seated form. It as only a matter time until one of them told you to-

"Take it off." Sanji stated, less of a suggestion and more of an order.

Why were you so damn nervous?? They’d both seen you in far far less classy conditions and bare as the day you were born. You swallow, obeying and pulling offth little layers you did have. They watch you, one set of blue and one set of the darest brown, trace every fiber of your being as you pull your top off...and then your shorts.

"All of it." Zoro adds, the impatience in his voice growing.

"I-" You try to find the words but another sharp gaze shuts you up.

FUCk! There was no hiding the obvious wetness that had grown over the span of this little conversation. Might as well give themma show since they wanna act all high and mighty now.

You spread your legs, resting your body weight against your forearms as you push your chest forwards. You manage to shimmy out of your panties, letting them hang from just around your ankle for a moment before moving to let the straps of your bra slie off your shoulders.

"Y'know, you guys to act like you don't like each other, but you have soo much in common." You taunt, the bra now discarded as you lay before the two.

The obvious tightness of their pants was beginning to make you feel more and more in control. You slide off the bed, and make your way in front of them, your brain at war over who you should approach first.

"Like right now, I'd bet that both of you are begging that I choose you over the other."

You inch closer, now stationed between them, Zoro to your left, Sanji to your right, You hands travel up each leg, manicured fingers skillfully working away at two separate buttons and zippers.

Your mouth waters when your fingetips come in contact with it...

"I know you both too well. So easy to read. Even if you don't think you are."

Sanji if the first to buckle, a whine of satisfaction leaving his lips when you press down on his tip over the boxer a bit more firm than before. Though your hand works at Sanji, eventually pulling his length free, your eyes are focused on Zoro, the contact making his face heat up.

How could you looks so calm, as if you're not fisting the cook beside him. The answer is simple. You know him...too well. If there was anything Zoro loved, it was attention from you.

Even though Sanji was being touched, you were looking at him. focused on him. Gauging him. And that alone was enough to make him sigh openly, his arms crossed over his chest as if to fight the feeling you'd made wash over him. The room was definitely hotter now.

You pause for a moment, sliding your hand away from Sanji so that you could now touch Zoro with both. Easy to read. Though Sanji loved your hands, your throat was more to Zoro's liking. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, the saliva there already making its way down to the tip of you tongue as you lick from base to head.

He shudders, bitting his fist as if to fight giving into you as easily as Sanji did. He knows what you're about to do and damn if it isn’t his favorite thing. Once you made it to his tip, you let your tongue fall just a little bit past your lower lip and bobbed your head. He's at the back of your throat now and your eyes are looking right at him, watery and eager to please.

"Fuck-"

They speak it at the same time and it almost blends together.

"I didn't know she could do that," Sanji admits, pumping slowly as you continue to suck Zoro for all he's worth.

He can’t help but let his hand travel to your scalp, his grip becoming tighter when you gag a bit, saliva falling down your chin, to the valley of your chest. You always were so sloppy when you did this. Sanji groans at the sight.

"Wanna try what we practiced?" Zoro asks, feeling a bit cocky at the fact that he got something Sanji didn't.

You nod, trying your best to relax your throat as Zoro trust forward , essentially fucking your face. Your hands first clench at your sided but soon find themselves resting against his thighs. Up unto this point, Zoro had been training your throat to take every last inch of him and as of right now, practice was showing to make perfect.

"Thatssss fuckin it. Taking me down your throat like that." Zoro praises, loving how the tears rolled down you melenated cheeks.

You tapped his thigh, and he was quick to let you go, being sure to let you breathe. You gasp, saliva connecting your as your eyes scream nothing but desire.

"S-Sanji." You huff, rolling your head to the side as if to beckon him closer.

He swallows, face red after seeing you take a little more then 7 inches. You shift, now bent at the waist, still facing Zoro, but on display for Sanji to see. And fuck was it a vision. Your dripping down you thighs now, your lips wet as you try your best to spread for him.

The blonde now had his hands at your waist, caressing the plush of your sides and hips. He noted how pretty your arch looked and the way you were eager to press against him.

"Si mouillé déjà chérie?" Sanji chuckles, sliding his ring up your folds, making you whine.

"S-Stop Sanji please just fuck me." You beg, steadying yourself against Zoro, who was currently caressing your jaw as if to prep it for the stretch again.

"You heard her waiter. I’m sure she doesn’t like waiting." Zoro quips, making Sanji narrow his eyes.

"Oh I know, but tha just makes this pretty pussy's reaction that much better. You’re not the only one that's gonna be surprised by what she can do." He snaps back, pushing two fingers into you, the cold metal making you moan this time. The wet squelch of his fingers is becoming louder and louder.

Now it was Sanji's turn to be cocky. Yeah sure Zoro had fucked this pussy just as much as he had...but had he gotten it to squirt as much as Sanji could? Not likely.

His r speed up, your legs buckling as you feel yourself about to snap. And after the first few drips, Sanji curled his fingers up and pulled out, sliding over your clit with a quickness.

“F-Fuck! Sanji!” You moan, your juices sliding down your thighs, onto the floor below you, and no doubt onto tbe blonde behind you.

All the while, you gripped Zoro’s thighs, fighting the urge to scream. All he could do was watch as you came undone, the sound of you squirting alone making him harder if that was even possible.

Sanji chuckles darkly, not letting up as he decided to slide into your walls, the feeling pulling gasps from the both of you. And as your mouth opened, it was full, Zoro taking the chance to claim your throat again. It’s almost too much, being filled from both ends was so much more stimulating than you thought.

One part of you was so focused on his Sanji curved into you, hitting every spongy spot he could. The other was wanting nothing but for Zoro to finally cum down your throat.

And oh god the sounds. It’s absolutely filthy, you squelching and choking mixed with the grunts of two competing and two men just as sexually inclined as you were. It’s making your head fuzzy and your pussy flutter. And damn can Sanji tell.

“Shit, squeezing, you feel so damn good.” Sanji vocalized, gripping your hips harder now.

Zoro smirks, caressing your scalp and jawline as he thrust to the back of your throat.

“Atta girl. Keep looking up just like that.” Zoro coaxes, your eyes watery.

He lets you breathe for a moment and you find it a bit difficult to when your breaths come in and out as moans when Sanji is absolutely wrecking your shit. You snap again, Sanji pulling out, smacking his tip over your folds when you squirt again.

“Like a fuckin faucet. Can’t even stay in you, you’re so wet.” Sanji hisses, the squelching of his sliding in and out of you echoing.

Zoro releases you and all tbat comes out is a strangled moan as Sanji grips your hips.

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck! Sanji!” You whimper, gasping when Zoro forced your gaze upwards to look at him.

“You forgetting about me? Don’t tell me that cook is fucking you better than me?”

Sanji laughs at the statement, pulling out of you again, only to have Zoro change your positions completely.

It’s only a little awkward considering your senses feel so fuzzy. Sanji is beneath tou, your back against his chest and Zoro’s managed to hold your legs up, one hand under each knee.

“Wait are you- fffuck!” You moan, Sanjis hand coming to hold your throat as he slides in, And right after Zoro doing the same.

The feeling was new. So full at once and it only got better when they moved. You couldn’t help the way your body jerked with each thrust and now with your mouth free all you could do was moan, whine, and beg for more.

Zoro’s thumb finds your clit just to make, slow, calculated circles. You’re wrecked, ducked dumb almost and all you can do if warm them before you cum.

“C’mon baby cum for us.” Sanji encouraged, his lips pressing to your shoulder as you squeeze whatever you could find to hold as your orgasm wrecks you.

It doesn’t take long for Zoro’s hips to stutter, his forehead resting against yours.

“Where?” He asks, the question coming out strained as he struggles to keep from release.

“Won’t last much longer, let us know where honey.” Sanji warns.

You can’t help but be greedy, the impulsive answer slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

It’s not long before you’re filled, and you’d never head a prettier sound when Sanji hums into your shoulder, just shy of a whimper. And you’d never felt more loved and secure when Zoro cups your cheek, his lips finally finding yours when he cums, you’re lips swallowing up any souls he lets slip.

It’s calm now. The sound of waves hitting the ship lull you into a daze almost, and as full as you’re were, you’re empty when Zoro pulls out with a grunt, a swear falling past his kiss swollen lips.

Sanji swears the same when he does the same and before you could question it, you realize just how much of their cum is leaking out of you at the moment.

“Well don’t just stand there, get a towel!” Sanji scoffs, massaging your shoulders and hips, knowing the positions you’d been in could be a bit wearing on your body.

“I’m going to, calm down.” Zoro shoots back, eventually retrieving a warm rag to clean you up.

5 star aftercare. The two had managed to work together seemingly well to make sure you were taken care of and there was no shortage of kisses and featherlight caresses. Your body was definitely spent, knees weak, muscles still tight from the exertion.

Sanji slipped one of your more comfortable t-shirts over your body and Zoro slipped a pair of socks on for you. There was little to no conversation, the three of you still trying to process what just occurred. Only did you speak when both of them had turned toward your door.

“You’re leaving...” You state, the sinking in your chest feeling heavier by the second.

“This was a one time thing right?” Zoro asks, looking to Sanji for confirmation.

The blonde only shrugs.

“What no? I want you both…” You shoot back as if it were obvious.

Sanji doves his hands in his pockets, searching for a cigarette for a moment before finally finding it. You can’t help but look between the two of them for some kind of answer. Part of you feels a bit silly for assuming they just share you but if you knew anything, and you had said it before, they were more alike than they would ever admit.

Sharing wasn’t something in their vocabulary when it came to you.

___________________________________________

Authors Note: OKAYYYY How’re we feeling YALL! Bet you weren’t expecting that ensuing huh?! Lmao got just a PINCH angsty lol, y/n can’t get everything she wants womp womp.

Uhhhh anyway my ask box is always open! If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, ideas, or requests, feel free to ask!

Make sure you drink ya water today and eat a good meal! L8TER SINNERS <33

Taglist: @atinymonbebestay @darling-din

@jaree101-blog @kaptain-rebekah

@gingernut1314 @itisjustwhatitis

[mossyivy]

𝔹𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 ℝ𝕦𝕟 [ℙ𝕋𝟛]

DI!Leon Kennedy x (Fem) Reader

Summary: You find out good news about Leon's recovery after having a dream...

Words: 3.3k

Content Warning: Cliff hanger ending (: , Leon being a sweetheart of a human being???, talks of injuries and recovery process. And Reader gets smacked on the ass like... Once?

[Previous Part] | [Final Part]

Looking around, you see tons of boxes along the smooth granite countertops, a large white table, and chairs for four, and every dark oak cabinet open in what seems like a kitchen that you're standing in. Stepping away from the counter, you get a good look around the room.

This kitchen is beautiful. Something you've dreamed of having for years now.

Stepping out of the kitchen, quickly realizing you're in a house.

You wander around looking up at the beautiful crystal light fixtures and smooth white ceilings. Freshly painted dark gray walls make the room smell of pungent turpentine and plastic. Walking over, you open the living room window, next to a brick fireplace, looking out at a moving truck parked in the driveway.

Right behind your own car, and what looks like some kind of motorcycle you don't recognize.

"Hey, Sweetheart?" You hear footsteps coming from the hall next to the living room, whipping your head around. Leon comes walking around the corner patting his jean pockets.

Walking, talking, conscious Leon.

"Yeah Baby?" You greet him, walking over and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Have you seen my box cutter? I swear if I sit something down, it just disappears. Like some kind of magical vortex opens up and grabs my shit..." You just stare at him, his eyebrows raising as he walks over, rubbing your arms gently.

His sweet caresses are so soft compared to how roughly he usually grabs you and pulls you out of harms way.

"You okay, Hun?" He looks concerned, you snap back, nodding your head vigorously.

"Yeah, yes. I'm fine Leon. Just aching."

"Oh, alright. Well, our bedroom is almost set up, so you can take a rest if you want." He smiles at you, sliding his hands down to your wrists, making you walk towards him. Pulling you into his chest, he hugs you tightly.

No wires or tubes getting in the way.

"Bedroom..." You repeat, hugging him tightly, probably a little too tight. He chuckles, petting your head, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yes, our bedroom? Where'll we be sleeping together? Every night." His eyes grew wide, pulling back and glancing down at you. And now looking worried, like he had done something stupid.

"Unless you wanna talk..."

"No, no!" You reassure, seeing him sigh in relief and look away for a second.

"Babe, I already got the heart condition, you tryna kill me?" Your eyes go wide, you'd never want him dead, you would be willing to fight for his life. Even if that meant risking your own.

"The last thing I want is for you to be dead."

"Good, I'd hope my wife wouldn't want me dead." He chuckles, you look down at his hands as he lets you go.

A dark black wedding band adorned his left ring finger. Lifting your own hand, you see a matching band of your own.

Wife, I'll never get tired of hearing that.

"Are you sure you're just aching?" He questions, looking at you funny. "Nothing else at all?"

"Yeah, just thinking. About everything." He smiles, squeezing your shoulder with reassurance.

"I'm fine, you're fine. We're both fine. This is exactly what we wanted. No going back." Leon pulls you back in, putting his arms around your waist.

It's so nice just being with him like this...

Lifting you up, he starts walking in the direction from where he came. Completely ignoring your protests about being carried, passing by his open office door filled with boxes and discarded furniture. Soon, he turns into your shared bedroom and drops you on the bed.

"Relax," he commands, pointing down at you, "I got the rest of the stuff. If I need help with the furniture, I'll call you." He turns, making it halfway through the doorway before you sit up.

"Leon."

"Yes, Sweetheart?" He turns, grabbing the frame with his hand, the other on his hip. You move back further on the very poorly made bed, looking up at your husband.

"You wanna lay down with me? Even just for a little bit." His eyes light up, not bothering to hide the childlike smile forming on his lips.

"Well, if you're gonna twist my arm." You laugh, seeing him almost launch himself next to you with a soft grunt.

"Jesus, Leon." You chuckle as he fidgets, laying himself in place on his side of the bed.

"I'm not young like I used to be, shut up."

"I'm twisting your arm?" You continue, playing along. You turn on your side, feeling his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"Absolutely, holding me hostage like this." He 'tsks' before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, making you giggle at his stubble against your sensitive skin. "Criminal, disgustingly criminal. I thought I had married a good woman."

"Keep it up and you won't be married at all." You joked, looking back at him over your shoulder. Suddenly, you feel a sharp sting on your butt as he smacks it. Pouting at you like some kind of petulant child.

"Ow!"

"Don't joke about that." He grumbles, forcing his face into your shoulder. You smile, twisting your body, eventually turning yourself to face him.

"You know I love you, right?" He nods, into your shoulder after settling back into his spot, rubbing the spot he smacked.

"I know. I love you too." His voice is muffled, your shoulder vibrating from his voice. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he pulls his face away from your shoulder, kissing your forehead.

I make him happy...

"I'm not gonna stop being your wife, Dumbass." He smiles, looking at your face, blue eyes glistening through brown hair.

"Keep it that way, Shithead." Smiling, you lean in, putting your head to his chest. Hearing his heart beat, strong and steady against your ear brings you a sense of serenity you haven't felt in quite a while.

"I wanna keep you around for a long, long, loooong time... Till I'm dead." You look up at him, knowing he's completely serious. He looks back down at you, admiring all your features. "You got that?"

"I got it." He huffs, looking into your eyes. His hand slides off your hip to the cheek, caressing it gently as he rubs his thumb across your cheek bone. Closing the space between the two of you, he kisses you so tenderly. Feeling all the love he has for you behind it.

Pulling away, he gets a mischievous smirk on his face, pushing forward and pressing you into the brown comforter on the bed. Leaning in, he kisses your neck, peppering kisses along your collar bone.

"Aren't I supposed to be resting my aching body?" You tease, looking back at you. He nods, looking down as he's perched over you.

"Oh, I have something that could fix your aches and pains real quick, Sweetheart."

"Leon!" You laugh, feeling him go for your neck again. Pushing him back and holding him by the shoulders, he stares at you. Still with that loving look.

"Sorry, I still find it hard to keep my hands to myself around you." He shrugs. "I just can't keep from touching you, Mrs. Kennedy."

Now your eyes light up, heart swelling at the declaration of love, smiling wider than you had before.

"Mrs. Kennedy." You repeat, Leon's face turning smug.

"I know how much you love it when I call you that. You just love being mine, don't you?" You don't even hesitate and just nod. Leaning back in he kisses your neck again. "How about we get a jump start on that family now then. What do you say, Mrs. Kennedy?"

That name rings in your ears in the best way possible.

Mrs. Kennedy

Mrs. Kennedy...

"Mrs. Kennedy?" Your eyes open, taking in a sharp breath, feeling someone touch your arm.

The familiar sounds of beeping, rain beating against the window and the music you've become accustomed to playing fills your ears once again.

The nurse who once gripped your arm stands over you holding out a few papers.

"Sorry to wake you. I just thought you'd like these as soon as possible." You looked at the papers seeing your schedule for physical therapy in 2 weeks, and a few forms you previously signed.

You groggily yawn with a polite smile and nod.

"No, it's okay. Thank you." He nodded, walking out of the room. You turn back, seeing Leon.

Unconscious, and unmoving Leon. Hooked up to a heart monitor, a feeding tube and IV drip still.

You grip his hand tighter, not even daring to let go while asleep.

"That dream is gonna be the death of me, I swear."

A reoccurring dream, just something more to add to your daily routine.

A routine lasting for a month now.

4 grueling weeks of sitting in a hospital room. From Miami to now back in DC.

Reading countless articles on stimulation for coma patients, you found music and talking was, allegedly, the most efficient way to help. Even if that isn't the case, it's worth a shot.

Not much has changed in the past month, but you're determined to get him back to his normal self. Already spending every day here for as long as you can, 8am to 8pm. Trying anything and everything to get him to be responsive.

Especially after finding out he had more damage than the doctors originally thought.

A brain injury... And with Leon's past alcoholism, it made sense why it was difficult for him to wake up.

Along with that, a heart murmur that he'd apparently had for some time. Which, compared to everything else going on, seems so miniscule.

But thinking back to all the times he made comments about being "out of shape" while working, it rubs you the wrong way now.

There was hope though. Doctors told you that once he woke up it's most likely he'd make a full recovery with a lot of work and time.

Work and time you were definitely willing to help him with. You have the time now, nearly a month after signing papers for your early retirement from the DSO. You'd have more than enough time for him and your own physical therapy.

You hear your phone beep, looking up at the clock on the wall, standing up and limping slightly in your walking boot as you go to your bag after setting his hand down. It's time for another scheduled moment. Shuffling through your stuff, you find the leg compression massager you're looking for and walk back over to him, pulling the blanket off him.

There's a knock on the door frame, a recognizable voice fills your ears as you look up from placing the compression massager on Leon, turning it on.

"Is that... Hootie and The Blowfish?"

It's one of the nurses who usually comes to take his vitals every few hours.

He chuckles, looking back at you as you hobble over, lowering the volume and looking back at him.

"I've been trying different stuff... Sunday was 90's R&B, yesterday was 50's Swing music. I even tried Pop music to see if he'd wake up to shut it off himself." You joke, the nurse shakes his head, looking back at Leon.

"Why don't you go get yourself a coffee? You look tired."

"Oh thanks, that's definitely not the first time I've had a man say that to me." He laughs at your joke before turning back to his work.

You leave him to do his thing. Nodding to him as you made your way out of the room and to the nurses' station, they were so kind to offer you their breakroom area to use while you came, so it wouldn't be too much of a trip for you.

Stepping into the break room, some of the floor nurses wave to you with smiles or a soft 'Hello'. You nod back to them, grabbing a Styrofoam cup and heading to the coffee pot, spotting the muddy liquid. You finally feel how tired you actually are.

Usually you don't feel like this until you get home from being here all day and your adrenaline crashes not long after eating whatever take out you bothered to get for dinner.

But you guessed your lack of sleep was finally starting to catch up with you after a month of handling everything you could for an unconscious man and your own needs which were barely being met.

"He'd be on my ass if he saw how much I'm running myself ragged over him." You mutter under your breath, pouring yourself that well deserved coffee.

You sigh, telling yourself to shut up mentally. Now wasn't the time to worry about that. You can catch up with sleep when he's awake.

"Mrs. Kennedy." One of the nurses approaches you as you add your cream and sugar to your coffee.

"Yes?" Your attention snaps to her, almost dropping your sugar packets in the process.

"I just thought I'd let you know we just got your partners brain scans back, the ones from this morning. The doctor can come into his room and explain everything."

Explain everything?

Worry sets into your bones, your body suddenly feeling heavy as you stare at her.

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, no!" She corrects herself, reassuring you. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said it that way. My deepest apologies. Everything actually came back well. The doctor just needs to explain a few things is all."

"Oh thank God..." Sighing you go back to your coffee.

"Have you eaten today?" She questions, now you have a nurse concerned about your well being. You contemplate lying, but honestly, what's the point?

"No, but I'll be fine. I usually don't eat until I go home anyway." The nurse's nose crinkles with a frown as you look at her. She looks at you almost like a disappointed parent.

"Hun, you have to eat something."

She's so nice. I really don't deserve this treatment.

You know you could go hours without food if it meant not being distracted, doing your job for as long as you have. You're used to your body running this way. It probably thinks you've been working the past month anyway.

Reluctantly you agree, she nods, starting to walk away from you and towards a phone on the other side of the room. With that you made your escape, hobbling back to Leon's room.

Stepping inside, you sip your coffee and nearly choke, seeing Leon's doctor standing at the end of his bed holding a manila envelope in hand. He turns, holding his hand out to shake yours, his name tag shining from the overhead lighting.

"Mrs. Kennedy." He nods with a smile as you shake his hand before sitting down and setting your coffee on the table next to you.

"Hello Dr. Owens. I'm guessing this is about Leon's scans?" You nervously pawed at your jeans, taking his unconscious hand back into yours, absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

"So... I come baring fantastic news for you!"

Dr. Owens turns to the lightboard across the room and slides a picture of old scans on, turning the light on. Looking at the yellow and orange reading in his brain brought back the dread you felt the week prior.

"As you can see, this was last week's activity. Orange and yellow mostly, which is usual for coma patients." Reaching into the envelope, he slid another scan next to the old one as he stepped to the side.

Yellow... And green. So much yellow and green.

"This... Is it a good sign?" You look over for the doctors' approval.

"A very good sign, ma'am! And you see around this area where it's very bright green here?" He takes a pen out of his pocket pointing to the sides of his brain. "This is the part of the brain that processes audio. So it's highly likely he could hear us."

"So, he's waking up? Or at least trying to?" Feeling your eyes start welling up, you quickly wipe them and sniffle, looking over at Leon.

"He's trying to. I don't want to give you false hope, because anything can happen at any moment. But, with most of my patients, they wake up within a few days of activity like this." You whimper, smiling at him, finally getting that shred of hope you've needed for so long now.

Anything is better than nothing at this point.

"I'll take it..."

"I recommend you keep up with the music and talking to him. And if he shows any kind of response, please call one of the nurses."

You nod, feeling so happy as the doctor leaves the room. Looking back at Leon, you lean in, getting closer to him.

You've said so much over the past 4 weeks. Speaking freely around him without thinking, but now...

Well, now you have no idea what to say.

"You know how much trouble you've caused me you idiot?"

It was the first thought that came to mind.

You sniff, rub your face on your sleeve and look at him.

Maybe I should play music I know he likes?

Thinking back, you try going through conversations you've had with Leon before. You knew a lot about him but usually it was stuff you just learned in passing. Then an old conversation popped into your head.

Sitting in the breakroom of the DSO, a few younger agents chatted about attending some kind of concert of a band you'd never heard of in your life.

Leon made a joke about kids not knowing "good music", in his normal grumpy fashion. It makes you laugh in the moment.

So one of the younger agents asked him what he liked, and you hardly payed attention to his response.

All you remember is one of the younger agents making a comment about his taste in music being one of a "divorced dad"? Whatever the hell that meant...

It was a start at least.

Standing up from your chair, you walk over, grab your laptop and move back over to him. Starting to look up exactly what that meant, you stare at your laptop screen.

Clicking a link called "Divorce Dad Rock", you start reading through the article.

"Nickelback, Shinedown and Creed are good examples... Huh?"

Sighing, you open the music app you use and start adding random songs to a playlist. Hitting play, you set the laptop down and lean back in. Taking his hand in yours, you lean your cheek on it, rubbing his forearm slowly. Wrist to elbow in a smooth fluid motion.

"You scared the shit out of me the past 4 weeks, you know..." Staring at him, you almost expect him to respond, but your lip just curls up getting no answer. You kiss the back of his hand and go back to leaning into it.

"Scared or not, I still stuck by you... You mean too much to me to not want to be here... Unconscious or awake cause..."

He can hear me... Who knows if he'll even remember what happened between us?

"I love you... So much. And not having you here to say whatever stupid bullshit jokes come to your mind when you're tense is driving me nuts." You chuckle, still rubbing his arm, starting to draw circles into his skin.

"And you know how I get when I'm losing it. You've seen me like that too many times."

Closing your eyes, you just listen to the music playing through your laptop speakers and the soft beep of his heart monitor. You feel at peace for the first time in a while.

"But knowing you could wake up kept me going."

And here you are now. Waiting again for him to wake up, but at least there are more clear signs of him doing better.

Doing what he can to come back to you.

Doing what he can to wake up.

[onmyyan]

GIVE US A SNEAK PEEK PLSSSSS BAE U LOVE US RIGHT 😩😩😩😪

A/N: Just for you babes, here's a snippet with our boy Gabe MDNI YANDERE THEMES AHEAD 18+ ONLY 🔪

"Can't sleep? C'mere." he scoots back against his gaming chair just enough for you to comfortably slide on his lap, he gives his muscular thigh a few pats as if to encourage you, "Wanna play? It's a first-person shooter, think you'll like it." His wide puppy-like smile was hard to resist, even after all this time. Without giving it much thought you nodded, making your way to his open arms, he pulls you closer by your hips, smoothly maneuvering you both to face his bright monitor, you sigh in comfort as his warmth encompasses you, his chin is on your shoulder as he hums happily, with the adorable way you were leaning back into his chest, his wide arms holding you snug against him, he couldn't hope to contain his happiness, the warmth from his skin seeped through his shirt, as it often did, and the grey sweatpants he wore felt soft against the bare skin of your legs.

The game was easy enough, point and shoot, but you still felt a heat spread in your chest at the sudden compliment he whispered into your right ear, "You're pretty good at this huh?" you could hear the smile in his voice, the goosebumps on your neck stood at attention, and your breath hitched ever so slightly, the action made you misfire in the game, he takes note of the cute little reaction, his hands, as if lead by a mind of their own, moved from the armrests to resting comfortably on your sides, gripping your waist in a warm hold, you tried hard to focus on the game before you, but the task seemed all the more impossible when he readjusted his hands, each thumb now rubbing slow, calculated circles into the small sliver of flesh showing there, he took a deep, breathy inhale, his nose rubbing up and down the slope of your throat, you could feel his lips linger as he spoke, "Y'smell so good Wifey." he says, his deep, warm-honey voice is almost whiny, it makes you twitch in his hold.

His tone had that certain timber to it, the same one that he'd used when he'd kissed you that first morning after you'd woken up in his arms, "Thank you.." you whisper back, unable to stop your breath from hitching as he nips just below your ear, a small huff of amusement leaves his lips, rolling over your heated skin, you suddenly find your throat dry in anticipation, of what exactly you didn't know, "It's Ricky's body wash." you add, hoping to gain back some control over yourself. He chuckled against you, the vibrations making your eyes flutter shut, Gabe began to toy with the hem of your shirt, as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, another deep breath against your nape had your hands clenching around the controller, "No, this is all you baby girl, you've always smelled so fuckin' good." he licked your earlobe just slightly, a wicked little grin on his face, the action caused your character to walk off a cliff, to which the not so gentle giant behind you snickered at. 

"Trouble focusing?" his honey-dipped voice was now directly in your ear, you didn't need to look over to know he was smirking. "Now what would give you that idea?" you ask leaning forward, attempting to hone in on the game before you, only to be jolted in place when his hands fell from your shirt to your shorts, his fingers felt as if they were burning, dancing along the edges of the clothing, he made a noise as if deep in thought. "You're trynna' tell me nothin's wrong?" His tone was amused, but you could hear the heated desire behind them, you could feel it in the way his big, warm, hands flatten out over the tops of your soft thighs, his breathing begins to pick up as he squeezes the tender flesh between his fingertips, his throat drying as he felt you shudder at the rough touch.

"Mm mm." You shook your head no to which he hummed, he swallowed thickly before continuing, "Can I touch you? Pretty please." He ended his plea with a warm kiss, just below your ear, you nodded yes, not trusting your voice to work, and felt your breath begin to pick up, matching the now labored breath of the man behind you. To your disappointment and surprise, his fingers merely traveled around the meat of your thighs, gently rubbing and massaging the skin, occasionally he'd slip a little higher beneath the fabric of your shorts, only to retreat a moment later. 

After a few more rounds in the game and the near-excruciating teasing motions of his hands, you felt him harden beneath you, his hips pressed against your own, Gabe took another labored breath before murmuring against your nape,

"God, you sure are the most beautiful thing to come outta this world you know that?" The sweet words almost seemed out of place with his raging hard-on pressing snugly in between your legs, every so often he'd buck upward, the near-electric feeling it caused made your next words come out as a whimper.

"You aren't even looking at me." you said nearly breathlessly, trying in vain not to react to his hypnotizing ministrations, one of his hands gently took the controller, tossing it haphazardly on his desk as if he could care less about the expensive thing, the other gently moved to hold your jaw in his hand, ever so softly turning you to meet his heated gaze, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he spoke, "Then let me say it again, and this time, I want you to keep those pretty eyes on me while I do." his tone left no room for disagreement, you felt yourself nodding as his thumb swiped against your bottom lip.

"You are the most stunning creature the gods put on this earth, and I could stare at you for hours."

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is Rain for @poppinelle

Koboh changes in the rain. It’s quieter, duller, cooler. After five years on Bracca, Cal has done his best to avoid rain in the intervening years, and yet whenever it catches up to him, he remembers something.

He loves the rain. Or, more accurately, he likes what happens to places in the rain. Washed clean. Fresh scents. Thunder. Lightning. It’s a reminder of home.

Still feels weird to think of Bracca as home. Outside of the Temple on Coruscant, it’s the longest he ever stayed in one place… unless he counts the Mantis, but that was always more about the people than the ship.

He will not be letting Greez hear him say that.

Rain pelts his face. When he’s caught out in it, like he is right now, part of him misses his old poncho. The hood specifically. But Kata wanted some seeds for the garden, Cal knew where to find them, so off he went while clouds merely scudded the sky… and then proceeded to open over his head a few hours into his journey. BD suggested they find cover, maybe in the nearby Phon’Qi caves.

“BD, I know you like it down there despite the explosive acidic plant monster things, but you can’t smell it. I can. It is the worst. It is like Greez’s old sock drawer wrapped around dead fish left out in the sun. I don’t deserve that. No organic with a functional nose deserves it. We’ll just clean up when we get back to Pyloon’s.”

Hopping from foot to foot, BD insists they should get out of the rain because the incoming storm is bad. Really bad. Like storm of the season bad. Sighing, Cal glances at the sky. The Force churns, excited by nature’s dance.

His comm activates. “Cal, you there?”

“Hey, Greez. Everything okay?”

“The weather’s getting nasty down here. Where are you?”

Cal checks BD’s map. “We kinda went up the mountain a little way. We’re not that far from the foothills now.”

“Did you get the seeds for Kata?”

“Yep.”

“You got a nekko?”

“Nope.”

Greez sighs. “I’m gonna need you to find shelter. Like right now. You’re not gonna make it back here in time. When the weather turns like this, it gets real nasty fast.”

BD announces they could head into the Phon’Qi Caverns.

“I’m not heading into the caverns. There’s an old prospector’s shack nearby. I’ll take shelter in there.”

“You sure it’ll survive the storm?” Greez asks. “I don’t wanna hear about you getting blown away.”

Cal pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I get blown away, who’s going to tell you about it?”

Me! BD announces.

“No one’s getting blown away.” Lighting races across the sky, chased by a blast of thunder so loud Cal feels his heart miss a beat. “Whoa!” They had storms on Bracca, big, immense, work-delaying storms, but there was something reassuring about always having the wreck of a Venator overhead to protect him. This feels raw, and a lot more exposed.

“Call me back when you have a roof over your head,” Greez says. “And – hold on.” There’s a voice buzzing in the background. “Right, I’ll tell him. Merrin says if you do get struck by lightning and die, she’s resurrecting you.”

“If she does, tell her to leave my hair in whatever style it’s zapped into,” Cal replies.

He ends the call before Merrin can make any further threats and heads down the mountain, slipping and sliding in the rain. Soon, the storm is so loud he can’t hear anything beyond it, not even BD. He spots the large pool where he first met Skoova. Jumping into it with the very real possibility of being struck by lightning seems dumb, but if he moves fast, he’ll be fine. Totally fine.

“Hold on tight, BD!” he shouts over the storm and launches himself into the air. He hits the water a moment later, sinking deep. Kicking to the surface, it only takes a few strokes to see him across to the other side. There, Cal spots the hut nestled against the cliffs. He hurries over, uses the Force to shove the door open, and slides inside. It’s dark and dusty, but BD’s light shines and reveals a small bed and a stash of rations that are still edible. The layer of dust suggests no one’s been here in years, so Cal hopes no one will mind him helping himself.

The storm rages outside, the roof rattling. “I really hope that holds,” Cal says. He calls Greez, promises he and BD are safe and sound for the night, and swears he’ll be back at first light.

“Cal?”

He stops his rummaging for a heater – anything to dry out his clothes. “Yeah, Greez?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

He leans back against the bed, one hand resting on BD’s head. “Yeah.” He breathes. “I really like the rain.”

“Weirdo.”

“Hairball.”

[sugar-omi]

teasing cove when you have a crush on each other drives me So crazy

flirty eyes from across the counter, sliding your hand across his chest... or even worse (read as: better), putting your hand on the small of his back as you go around him to the refrigerator

and the idea of doing it before he's going out w his parents is even better

sat on top of his car, laughing and whispering to yourselves. you lean in to whisper something in his ear or lean closer to his face to say something smug, something flirty and he flushes

then his parents walk outside, all cheery then they pause a bit when they see the deer-in-headlights look on cove's face and the way you pause

kyra gives a cheery greeting and cliff laughs, realizing what a awkward situation he's walked in on but he greets you anyway.

"hi," you smile, abandoning your conversation with cove and talking with his parents while he fidgets beside you. "well i should get going.."

and you slide off the hood of cove's car, fixing your bottoms and you put a hand on cove's shoulder which makes him jump.

"i'll see you later cove." your hand drag down his arm as you walk away, slipping into your house.

its silence between them before cove jumps up and exclaims about how theyre gonna be late

or you have cove over one night, and you have the house to yourself. your moms and cove's parents are out, catching a movie and dinner and your sister is sleeping over a friends house in the city to catch up with her old group, so there's no one around to tease you or usher cove out for the next 4 hours at least.

taking the opportunity to be as loud as you want, you put on some music and its so... flirty

(i can see sabrina carpenter "nonsense" or sza "the weekend" or my favorite 50 cent "best friend")

maybe its not meant to be, maybe the beat isnt anything remotely sexy and more on the pop side, but either way you're mouthing/singing the lyrics back to him and you're obviously flirting with him

even though you're just moving throughout the kitchen without any rhythm and you just leaned forward across the counter but you did it with a smile and you're teasing him.

oh god even better, you're in the kitchen trying to make this box brownie you bought at the store and the radio is on low, and you're sitting on the counter and cove is mixing the batter

maybe its because he has the best arms between you two or maybe its because you wanna watch how his veins pop and his hands look wrapping around the spoon...

you like him way too much if you can find him stirring brownie batter together sexy, but thats not your problem

mmm imagine cove coming behind you to help you get the brownie pan out of the cabinet, helping you move the pots and pans in front of it and his body is against yours. and hes so chill about it, as if his groin is pressed again you....

and when its finally in the pan and its cooked, you're trying the brownies and cove finishes his so you pull him in by his belt loops...

he totally freezes up but youre in front of him, holding out a brownie for him to eat from your hand and he keeps eye contact as he bites down. hes watching you, and youre watching the way his lips part as he bites down and how he licks his lips...

and cove swallows, youre watching the way his throat bobs...

omg and if you bite the same spot he bit into, looking into cove's eyes the entire time and his hands move to your thigh, the other to the back of your neck..

and you both lean in and meet in the middle, and you're so lost in kissing each other that you drop the brownie. as much as you like, love, kissing cove you're glad that that was a smaller slice since these brownies are pretty damn good

but then cove slips his tongue in your mouth and suddenly the brownies taste so subpar to this...

oh man i need to stop typing n write this shit immediately 🙌🙌🙌😫

[jolapeno]

"jealousy isn't a good look"

!!

😏 so, instead of admitting that he’s jealous. javier rocks up to the bar—dragging Steve with him—to overlook you flirting-not-flirting with someone from the CIA. and cause I love what I have written, I’m gonna share some of it.

javier peña x f!reader • drabble 18+ themes.

dedicating to @swiftispunk because they loved this idea yesterday and now I wanna make their day spicy

He’s looking you up and down—dragging sharp glares up and down your skin. You can feel the storm in them, how it chokes you—the wave of anger which flows from him, shooting itself across the bar.

That the unbridled annoyance has chewed into the brown of his eyes, swallowing all colour—leaving only simmering darkness.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you think of how hard he’d fuck you in his current mood. How he’d likely press your cheek and chest against the wall, teasing you until you couldn’t speak.

Not letting you fall over the cliff until you were begging.

He’d most likely bend you over, uncomfortably so, before sliding into you in one smooth movement. How he’d make your thighs tremble, leave little teeth marks in hidden places—a reminder of how far you’d taken all of this. That the back of your head would meet the wall with each thrust, nails digging into your own calves as he makes you feel faint and good all at once.

Then, he turns his head away, and the defiance angers you more than his original glare. You think of pulling his chin, forcing him to look at you.

Instead, you plaster on a sweet smile. Sliding from beside him to the place between his thighs, spreading them with your hips as he grunts.

“Steve, you should go home…”

“On it,” the blond says, draining his glass, and patting Javi on the back as he leaves.

Feeling Javi shift on the stool, you let your fingers stroke his neck before forcing his eyes to yours.

“Javier.”

His silence speaks volumes.

So, you run your thumb against his jaw, coolly saying, “Javi.”

He rolls his eyes before meeting yours, sighing in response. Letting your palms rest on either side of his cheek.

If the shoe were on the other foot, you know he’d have thrown you over his shoulder. He’d have been pissed at you, beyond pissed, that you were ignoring him—and you’re being patient, kinder than he would be.

But it’s running out. Growing thin with each second, he says nothing—his annoyance, jealousy, and likely a whole host of emotions, swarming in his eyes.

The speckles of gold amongst the dark, pulling you in, likely desperate to not melt and let himself be angry.

“Your friend looks lonely,” he says coldly.

Smirking, you lick your lips, purposefully moving closer to him, leaving no room. “I think I’m okay here.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

He snorts, turning his eyes but not his face. “Yeah, seems it.”

“How about you just tell me you’re jealous, and you want me to stand here with you, and then we can pretend we’re not fucking—like we always do—and then later, when the sun has set, I’ll show up to your place and you’ll give me various reasons why sleep isn’t as good as you?”

Glaring, jaw rocking from side to side, considering your words before he shakes his head. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re being childish.”

“And you’re being a brat.”

You smirk, coldly at that. “And, how are you going to fix that, Peña?”

AN: I think this one will smut close to the sun.

[metallicaislife]

Afternoon Delight

Requested by : Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut, minors dni

Word Count: 845

Warnings: drug use, protected sex, P in V sex, m x f pairing, fingering, post sex cockwarming

“What do you want to listen to?” I asked as I looked through Cliff’s cassette collection. 

“Anything there is good.” He replied. 

“You’re no help.” I murmured. Granted he was focused on rolling us a joint to share so I shouldn’t give him too much shit. I continued to look through his music, then settled on a Peter Gabriel cassette. 

“Good choice.” He looked up as he finished prepping the joint. I sat on his bed with my back against the wall. 

Cliff sat next to me near the end of his bed. 

“Open.” He took my chin in his fingers to part my lips and placed the joint between them. 

“You rolled it, you get the first hit.” I said, trying to take it out of my mouth. He swatted my hand away and flicked the lighter. 

“I want you to take the first hit.” He said. I didn’t argue further and inhaled. I took the joint and passed it to Cliff. I exhaled and coughed a little. 

Cliff and I passed it back and forth for a while before putting it out. 

“That’s good shit.” I said, smiling at him. He chuckled and rubbed my thigh. 

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow lifted. 

“Mmm. I mean you always have the best green.” I giggle. 

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned at me. His hand stayed on my thigh as we continued chatting about everything yet nothing. That is one of the things I love about Cliff, we can talk for hours, about silly stuff, deep things, and most of all he’s the person I can sit in silence with. Just being with him makes me happy. 

It hadn’t slipped my notice that his hand occasionally moved higher, alternating between soft squeezes and rubbing little circles with his fingers. I was however caught off guard mid sentence as he maneuvered and pinned me to his bed. 

“Is this okay?” He asked as he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Any recollection of what I was in the middle of saying had vanished.

“Yeah.” I smiled up at him. He grinned back at me then leaned down to meet my lips in a tender kiss. The kiss grew more and more needy as he ground his hips into mine. I could feel his erection through his jeans. 

“I just wanna be inside you.” He mumbled against my lips. I didn’t respond verbally. I played with the hem of his shirt, he sat up and took it off then helped sit me up enough to get my shirt and bra off. He kissed my shoulder, laying me back down. He impressively shimmied himself down so he could undo my pants button and zipper. I instinctively raised my hips, he took my pants and panties in one go. After flinging them into his room he began running his fingers through my folds. He let his fingers collect enough slick before sliding them inside of me. 

“I don’t want your fingers.” I whined. 

“I know, love. I have to make sure you’re ready to take me.” He reassured me and kissed my thigh. My whine turned into a moan as he curled his fingers. Just when I was about to go over the edge he pulled them out. I whined again and he chuckled softly. He stood up removing his jeans and boxers letting his erection free. He opened the drawer to his bedside table and pulled out a condom. I watched intently as he put in on, he got back on top of me and didn’t waste any time aligning himself with my entrance. I widened my legs, he sunk in and leaned down resting his forehead on mine. I wrapped my legs around him as he found a steady pace. His lips met mine in a passionate kiss. 

Cliff intertwined our fingers with one hand, as his other found my sensitive clit. It wasn’t long before I came, the pleasure hitting me so hard I swear I could see stars. 

“Oh god. You feel so good, squeezing me so hard.” He groaned. Cliff didn’t last much longer. His hips stuttered as he came. He continued to rut into me stretching both of our highs until he came to stop fully sheathed inside me. He took a minute with his head buried in my shoulder, his body weight like a comforting weighted blanket. I rubbed his back softly. 

I squealed as he rolled us over, he was still inside of me and I was now on top. He patted his chest and I laid flushed against him. He snagged his blanket pulling it over us as we cuddled. 

“I love you.” He murmured as he tickled my back, I could hear the sleepiness in his voice. 

“I love you more.” I smiled softly, running my fingers over his chest.  

“Uh-huh.” He protested. 

“Most definitely.” I teased. 

“I’m too tired to prove otherwise right now… but just you wait.” He teased back, kissing my forehead. 

“Already looking forward to it.” I yawned and quickly fell into a peaceful slumber. 

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[crowandmousewritingco]

Facing The Monster Head On (Pt. 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x trans!Actor!reader

Words: 2.6k

Rating: PG-13, like part 1, there is no explicit bits. There are insinuation(s). Honestly if there was a rating between PG-13 and R, that's what this fic would be.

Summary: You're the co-star of an upcoming movie, Cliff Beasts 6. You're starring next to the -questionable- star, Dieter Bravo. Shooting the scenes was the easy part. The not-so-easy part? Dieter's habits.

Author: Mod Crow (I really need to get better at writing and posting)

Author's Note(s): As before, this was originally supposed to be a single part, but I love this slightly gremlin like man. The story used the prompt list for @thepromptfoundry's July prompt list.

Warnings: Language, hints at rated-R thoughts, mentions of drugs and drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of parental death, reader gets misgendered, and -not a bad warning- plot twist (maybe?)

Info on PTSD: Here

You don’t know how long you sat there on the floor, head buried in your knees, but by the time you lifted your head someone was knocking on the door. There was a part of you that just wanted the person to keep knocking, maybe they’d get the message that you weren’t going to be opening the door anytime soon. That was until you heard them talk.

“Hey, look I didn’t mean to make you cry. Can I come in or something to properly apologize to you?” The knocking stopped for a moment, was he just going to stand there and keep knocking? God you only hoped not, you didn’t want to explain to this big Hollywood actor why him asking you for drugs sent you spirling. 

Groaning softly you forced yourself to your feet. Once up right, you run your hands through your short hair, taking a shaky breath in, you turn to face the door. Did you really want to open the door? It would be so easy to just turn around and hide yourself under the thick comforter that rested on the hotel bed.

“If you don’t wanna talk I get that, but I will get Ronjon to come by if you don’t at least tell me you’re alive.” Then a couple more knocks rang out. Closing your eyes you couldn’t help but want to chuckle at the thought of Dieter going to Ronjon and trying to convince him that you needed to be checked on.

Grabbing the door knob with one hand, you used your other hand to unlock the chain lock. Pulling the door open, you locked eyes with Dieter, that hungry look was still there, it would always be there. Though this time it wasn’t pure hunger, his eyes looked softer, almost as if he was…

“Are you worried about me? You don’t even know me.” Pulling the door open further you leaned on the doorframe, your knees weren’t quite ready to support your body but you couldn’t have stayed on the floor and opened the door. 

Watching him reach up to scratch the back of his neck, “Look I can't have people thinking that I enjoy making people cry. How do you think my PR team would handle something like that?” You couldn’t help but scoff at his remark, so the worry in his eyes isn’t over you, it’s over his public image, typical actor. 

“I’m fine, thanks for checking in on me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have stuff that I would like to get done.” Without offering a ‘bye’ you closed the door without letting him say another word. Locking the door, you could hear him mumble something, then you heard the familiar sound of footsteps growing more and more quiet. Turning to the bed you look at it for a moment. You could hear the bed, it was practically calling out to you. Walking over to the mattress you could feel the exhaustion of the evening set in. At the feeling of your knees bumping into the bed you sighed softly and started to strip yourself of your day wear. Removing your dress pants last, you could feel the chill of the room on your warm skin, causing chill to run down your spine and goosebumps to break out across your skin. 

Climbing into the bed, you were quick to slide under the covers. Under the covers however, weren’t much better than the cold air of the room. Grabbing the remote off the bedside table, you pointed it to the TV and switched it on, not caring what was on. You just needed sound, anything other than the deafening silence and ringing in your ears. You flipped through the channels for only a moment, before deciding on some documentary on sea coral. 

Setting the remote back down on the bedside table, you flipped the lamp off. Letting your hand rest against the pillow. Closing your eyes you couldn’t help but replay the last twenty minutes on repeat in your head. Finally slipping into sleep’s grasp, your body relaxed under the covers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay can you walk us through what happened one more time, Miss?” You don’t know how many times you’ve told the detectives the story, or how many times you’ve had to correct them. Squeezing your eyes shut, you take in a shaky breath.

“For the last time, I’m a man, a boy, He/Him. How many times do I need to say it?” Opening your blood-shot eyes you look at both of the older men sitting in front of you. Watching as one raised their hands, almost as if to say, ‘hey no need to get angry’. 

“Sorry about that…sir. We’re older, that whole changing your gender is still confusing to us.” The older of the two said, he said his name was Detective Derfner. Looking to the other, -Detective Mauller- he gave a half-assed apologetic shrug. Sighing you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why not have an detective or someone like that who could atleast show me a little fucking respect. I found my mom dead tonight and instead of being comforted or with my family, I’m in here because you think I had something to do with it. I’ve told you this same story every time you ask. Right before I went upstairs, my mom and her new boyfriend thing -Travis- had been fighting. No, I don’t know what the arguing about. By the time I finally gave up trying to stay down there it was around eleven thirty or midnight. I don’t know what time I finally managed to fall asleep, but I jolted awake just about three thirty AM. No, I don't remember what my dream was about. 

When I finally got out of my bed, I noticed how quiet the house was. I assumed that meant that they had either made up and got to bed or that he had left and my mom had fallen asleep either on the couch or if she went to her room. As I made my way through the halls, I could kind of hear the TV in the living room. I thought that she had passed out on the couch, so I was going to go wake her up so she wouldn’t get a kink in her neck or mess her back up. When I got to the doorway of the living room, I could see her slumped over slightly. I thought it was some kind of joke, so I kept telling her that it wasn’t funny. I walked towards her to shake her awake, but when I got close enough to see the table I had seen…there were pill bottles. I didn’t count them, but there were like four, maybe five. Two of them were completely empty, I know for a fact that one of the bottles had her name on it and the other was mine. My mom was prescribed lexapro after my dad’s mom and then my dad died. 

I was prescribed Prozac after my dad’s death, I didn’t know my grandma too well. She lived in Washington state practically my whole life. I didn't check the other bottles. I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to see if my mom had taken every single pill. So, sorry I couldn’t and still can’t help you there.” Chewing the inside of your cheek, you reached out and grabbed two more tissues. Drying your, once again, tear wettened face, you look between the detectives. The older of the two was taking a couple of notes, while the other seemed to be looking over his notes.

Watching as Detective Derfner looked up from his notes, he pulled a few pictures out from behind his writing pad, “Thank you. Now, we took some pictures of the other three bottles. Two were prescribed to a mister Travis Byrd, who you know as your mother’s boyfriend.” You looked at the two pictures of the pill bottles that had Travis’ name on them, “The third name is a name that we couldn’t find in your mother’s phone, nor have you mentioned the name. But that third bottle is prescribed to a mister Fransisco Mor-’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hushed, yet rapid sound of knocking pulled you from your restless sleep. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked to the alarm clock, switching the bedside lamp on. Sighing at the time, you push your half naked self out of bed, bringing the bed’s massive comforter with you as a cover. Wrapping the comforter around your shoulders, you held it closed with your left hand as your right one reached for the locks of the door.

Once unlocked, you pulled the door open. Without even seeing it it was first you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“What? It’s like one o’clock in the morning, what could you possibly wa-” Dropping your hand and opening your eyes, you see who decided that now was a great time to bother someone, Dieter Bravo. As the two of you stood there, the only sound for a moment was the soft sound of the TV on in your room. Scanning over Dieter you can tell that he has yet  to go to sleep, or maybe he just woke up? He looked about as rough as you felt at this moment. 

Without talking, Dieter gently shoved past you. Turning to watch as he walked into your room, you let go of the door, allowing it to shut at its own pace. Following behind him, you stop next to the floor length mirror. You watched as he sat on your bed, making himself comfortable. Continuing to watch, you watched as Dieter took off his signature sunglasses, and looked at you. You couldn’t pull your eyes from his, the dark coffee color of his eyes holding your attention. Swallowing dryly, you held the comforter tighter around your body, “C-Can I help you? You did kind of wake me up, you know that right?”

Without responding at first, Dieter stuck up one of his hands, as if to tell you to stop talking. Scoffing softly, you roll your eyes, “Well excuse me for talking. Please do talk, your highness.” You gave Dieter an over dramatic bow. As you stood up right, you heard him chuckle softly before finally talking.

“Look sorry about making you cry or whatever earlier. I came here because I would like to know, would you like to have sex with me?” Leaning back slightly, you can’t help but stare at him for a moment. Was this grown man offering sex as an apology, or does he not know how to talk to people like a normal human?

Reaching up, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Maybe it’s because you woke me up and I’m still half asleep, but Dieter, I’ll be one hundred percent honest with you. I have wanted to fuck you for the last five years or so. Right now however, I do not want to fuck you.” Dropping your hand and opening your eyes, you study his face. Locking eyes with him once again you recognized something about the gleam in his eyes. He seemed to have that same hunger in his eyes from earlier, though this time he was looking at you with that look. Dieter was practically undressing you with his eyes. 

Shaking your head you walk towards him, “I’m not fucking you tonight. You are more than welcome to stay, but no fucking is going to happen.” As you finished talking, you could see Dieter slump slightly, he looked like a child in a candy shop who just got told no. Without talking, you watched as he stood from your bed, and replaced his sunglasses.

“Well, when you finally come around to it. You know where my room is.” Reaching into his robe pocket, he fishes around the pocket for a moment before pulling his hand from the pocket. Between his index and middle finger he held a small plastic bag, the contents of which looked all too familiar, coke. As that thought entered your brain you felt something in you take over.

Dropping the comforter that was hiding your bare chest and legs to the ground, you quickly closed the distance between the two of you. Reaching out, you snatched the small dime bag from his fingers. You didn’t notice the smirk on his face as he spoke, you simply heard him. “It’s nice to see I’ve found someone who also enjoys a little…pep in their step.” 

Staring at the bag in your hand, you felt your mouth run dry. Without thinking, the thoughts that entered your brain made a pipeline straight to your mouth. “I’ve been clean for two years tomorrow.” Walking past him, you sat on the edge of your own bed, your glazed over eyes finding his face before continuing on. “I started just after my mom died, I found the guy who she had gotten some of her pills from, turns out he was also one who enjoyed a little pep. I spent two and half years with him. That was until he lost control of his truck while we were both high. He didn’t die, but I did. Twice actually.”

Eyes dropping to the bag, you toy with the opening, “Dying is an incredibly sobering experience, that doesn’t mean the want isn’t still there. And tonight has been the loudest it's been in a while.” Chuckling sadly, you look up to Dieter before clenching your jaw a few times. 

Clearing your throat, you stand from the bed. Feeling the cool air of the room on your warm body makes you shiver. Looking down you finally register why you coil feel the cold air of the room. Staring at your scarred chest, you tuck both hands under your armpits. Quickly looking back at Dieter you try to talk, “You weren’t supposed…No one on the crew…Darren doesn’t…”

Raising both of his hands this time, you stumble over your words till they stop coming out of your mouth. Clearing his throat, Dieter closes the small distance between the two of you. Something about him changed, he seemed…worried again. Before you could start apologizing for making him worry, you felt his warm hands on your biceps. 

“Kid calm down. Would it help if I also removed some of my clothes?” Dumbfounded by his question, you knit your brows together, “Why would that help me right now? I already told you I’m not fu-” Before you could finish your sentence, you watched as Dieter removed his robe, before removing his own shirt.

Once the older male stood bare chested, you stood there. You couldn’t help but stare at the man’s chest. Dropping your hands, you hesitantly reached out. When your fingers just barely hovered over Dieter’s chest, looking at his face, your own features were painted with a questioning look. Seeing him nod, you carefully laid your fingers on the fading scar that stretched across the entirety of his chest. 

“You’re also…you’ve had top surgery?” The questioning look on your face now morphed into a look of a mix of awe and curiosity. How could an actor who you were into be trans without you -let alone the rest of the world- knowing? Your eyes falling to his chest once more, your fingers still running across his chest. You didn’t talk, you didn’t know what else to say or ask the man.

“I had top surgery probably six or seven years ago. When I starred in the first Cliff Beast movie, I had only had the surgery several months beforehand.” Feeling a chuckle rumble through his chest, you couldn’t help but gently press your whole hand on his chest. Where your hand had stopped also allowed you to feel Dieter’s pounding heart. Looking from his chest to his eyes, you could feel your heart pick up its pace, soon matching Dieter’s. Closing your eyes, you clenched and unclenched your jaw for a moment. Shaking your head, you opened your eyes and softly removed your hand from his chest.

“I didn’t know, though I don’t think anyone else knew either. That being said, sex is still off the table. The invitation to stay though is still open.” You crossed your arms over your chest, not to hide your own exposed top surgery scar, but in an attempt to warm up. As you stood there you kept your eyes on Dieter, and just before you could open your mouth to talk, you watched as he started moving around your hotel room.

“I don’t really want to stay if I’m not getting the fuck out of it,” You couldn’t help but feel your heart clench a bit, you had really thought the whole thing from only moments ago would be enough to make him change his mind. Nodding, you went to acknowledge his words, gaze falling to the floor. Licking your dry lips, you opened your mouth, but before you had a chance to talk, he continued on. “That being said, I am willing to stay till you fall back asleep…or whatever.” 

Eyes snapping back to Dieter you saw that he was now holding the comforter, “Wh-Why? I was fine just before you were here.” You wanted to come across as strong, but your voice portrayed you. Clearing your throat you tried again, “I mean, I was fine before. I was able to fall asleep and I stayed asleep. That was until someone decided to wake me up by knocking on my door.” Sitting on the edge of your bed, you heard him chuckle.

“You know, for someone who says they were doing okay, you were pretty pale and sweaty. Now, I wasn’t in your head while you were asleep, but if I know anything, to me that looked like you were either having a nightmare, night terror, or an anxiety inducing dream. Do tell me, am I close?” Seeing the play smirk on his face as he walked to the other side of your bed and tossed the comforter on before climbing on next. “Now come lay down so I can go back to my room, we have an early day tomorrow. At least I think I remember Gunther saying that the busy day was tomorrow.” You watched as he shrugged, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fine, but only because I’m tired.” Crawling to your spot you got comfortable once again, grabbed some of the comforter and covered yourself. Turning the lamp off, you rolled onto your back, “Good night I guess.” Dieter was silent for a moment, had he fallen asleep already? 

“Good night to you too.” Hearing him respond you nodded softly to yourself and closed your eyes. Sleep had found you easily once again, this time however, your sleep wasn’t plagued with unpleasant dreams. Your dreams were now simply happy childhood memories, back before things had gotten confusing and hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the hotel’s alarm clock pulled you from your sleep. Blindly you reach over and feel around for the clock. When your fingers finally found the alarm clock, they were quick to hit the alarm’s off button. Eyes still closed, you lay there in bed for a moment, enjoying the warmth and weight of the comforter. As you laid there a realization hit you, the comforter wasn’t this heavy. The comforter also didn’t snore softly before.

Opening your eyes, you see where the sound of snores is coming from. Dieter. He was asleep next to you, and it was obvious that the alarm clock didn’t bother him at all. You knew you should be waking him up, but there was something about this moment that you never wanted it to end. Smiling to yourself, you decided an extra ten minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone. Closing your eyes once more, you carefully snuggled closer to Dieter. You could already tell that the sleep that was going to take you this time, was going to be a gentle and wonderful sleep. Who knows, maybe your brain will decide to treat you to some…rather fun dreams.

.........

Credit to the maker of the banner, the talented @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges @carusolikey @thebeldroramscal @morallyinept @lady-bess

[kirk-says-wah]

Is there any chance you write a cliffxjames one shot:(?

I had something in mind and I haven't seen anyone writing this yet but I'm horrible at writing and I thought it's a good idea

I was thinking about some quotes like James is telling cliff that how much he loves him and telling him things like"please don't leave me"and cliff promise him he will never leave him

And then you know..we all know what happened..

I just want to cry

Love your blog,wish for the best💗

Thank you so much! 💕 this was such a sad ask, poor babies 😭

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing: James/Cliff

James is drunk. Cliff can tell by the way he’s sitting, slumped downwards, bottle of bud nearly spilling in his lap.

It’s not an unusual sight, James always seems to be drunk these days, always inhales beer like it’s water.

Cliff nudges him, and James lolls his head to look at him.

“Maybe we should go to bed.”

“Don’t wanna,” James mumbles, pressing his cheek into Cliff’s shoulder. Cliff chuckles, smooths his fingers over James’ knotty hair.

“Cmon,” he says, getting up, and James slumps to the side. Cliff just pulls on his arm until he finally gets James on his feet. James just yawns widely, letting Cliff pull him along into the bedroom. The hotel room is a mess but at least the bedroom is clean.

Cliff dumps James on the bed and James pulls the covers over himself, closing his eyes. Cliff laughs. James always does fall asleep easily when he’s drunk.

Cliff peels his jeans off before sliding into bed next to James, cocooning around him, holding him close. He just breathes James in, nosing behind his ear.

“I love you,” James says quietly, eyes still closed. Cliff knows it’s the alcohol that’s making him loose lipped right now, but Cliff doesn’t mind. He doesn’t get to hear very often just how much he means to James.

“I love you too,” Cliff says, kissing James’ jaw softly.

James shifts, turns to look at him, eyes unnaturally sober. “You’re not going anywhere, right?”

Cliff frowns, lets his fingers skate over James’ jaw.

“Of course not,” Cliff says, kissing his skin again. “I’ll always be with you. You know that.”

James doesn’t reply, and he turns, lets his cheek press back into the pillow. Cliff snuggles down, hitching a leg over James’ hip to keep him close.

He closes his eyes, letting sleep overtake him, when he’s pulled from his daze by the sound of a sniffle.

He blinks his eyes open, lifts his head to see James’ face. James has got tears sliding down his cheeks, his eyes far off and distant.

“James?” Cliff asks, worried now, hand rubbing over James’ bicep.

James hiccups, wiping at his face.

“I just have a bad feeling,” he says, turning to look at Cliff. “I feel like you’re gonna leave.”

“Then it won’t be by choice,” Cliff says, tries to reassure him. “You’re the only one, baby. And Metallica is my life. I’m not going anywhere.”

James nods, and Cliff leans down, kissing him softly.

I’m not going anywhere.

If only that were true.

[yourenotdonefighting]

First Sentence Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1. Steve’s boots crunched on rock and fresh, powdery snow as he stepped toward the edge of Vormir’s cliffs, feeling the Red Skull’s heavy presence at his back. He peered over the side, swallowing back bile and feeling grateful that the bottom of the seemingly endless chasm was too far down and obscured from view. The evidence of what lay at the bottom was all around him.

Playing For Keeps (Romanogers, 25K words, 12/13 chapters complete.)

2. Tim is lonely. He’s lonely in a way that is visceral. In a way that makes his chest seize with it out of nowhere at the most random of times. It’s not that he’s alone. He’s used to that, has spent most of his life that way.

Never Before, and Ever Since (Chenford, 3K words)

3. Rain poured down in sheets, a battering curtain that blurred everything into a gray haze. Steve stood in the middle of it all, his clothes soaked through, forcing sharp, ragged breaths from his lungs. The world around him was silent, as if it was waiting for something to happen. And maybe it was. Maybe the universe knew what was coming, even if Steve didn’t. He wiped a hand across his face, trying to clear his vision, but it didn’t help. Everything was a blur — everything except her.

don't wanna know who we are without each other (Romanogers, 1K words)

4. Lucy knows Tim like the back of her hand. She knows how he likes his coffee (black, unless she has that pumpkin spice oat milk creamer that he adamantly pretends to hate but actually secretly loves.) She knows which shoe he puts on first and exactly how he sorts his paperwork and can tell what his mood is just by pulling up his most recent playlist. Lucy knows far more about Tim than she knows about anyone else, something that happens completely by accident when you spend 12 hours a day with someone for the better part of two years.

You Look Like You Love Me (Chenford, 2.3K words)

5. Tim is 15 minutes into his afternoon backyard play session with Kojo, picking up the slobber-covered tennis ball and tossing it toward the fence, when he gets the call. He hears his phone vibrate somewhere behind him and finds it on the patio table under the zip up hoodie he’d been wearing earlier. The screen is lit up with two missed calls and a slew of texts from Angela, and the hair on his arms stands on end. She never calls him on his day off unless something's wrong.

Between the Heavens and the Embers (Chenford, 4.4K words)

6. Lucy is reeling as the elevator stops on the garage parking level with a ding, the doors sliding open. Tim turns back to look at her one last time. “Good night.” His voice is soft, his smile tight. This is not what she expected when she stepped into that elevator with him, though maybe she should have. Of course she should have. She’s already laid into him once for making light of things, and though they’d joked in the shop earlier that day — the first time in weeks that it felt like maybe, eventually, they would be ok — she knows Tim is taking her seriously. He may not be ready to really talk, but she knows he will be. She just has to be patient.

Could You Hold Me Without Any Talking? (Chenford, 1.9K words)

7. “What do you know about love languages?” Tim doesn’t know what compels him to ask the question, to Thorsen of all people, and when he sees the look on his go-fer’s face he immediately regrets opening his big mouth. Aaron eyes Tim suspiciously, like he’s trying to figure out if there’s a trick hidden somewhere in the seemingly innocent question. “Is this some kind of weird Tim Test?”

Birds of a Feather (Chenford, 3.7K words)

8. The golden-hour sun washes over Tim as he makes his way between the rows of gravestones, stopping at the granite marker with Jackson's name carved into the front. Fresh yellow and white daisies are propped against the headstone, and he knows by the loopy scrawl on the small card that they’re from Lucy. He crouches down and brushes his fingers over her handwriting, his heart clenching in his chest.

I still love you, I promise (Chenford, 3.9K words)

9. Fresh coffee and a view of Steve Rogers’ perfectly sculpted ass were hardly the worst things Natasha had ever been subjected to first thing in the morning. In fact, they might have fallen pretty close to the top of her ‘Best Things to Happen, Ever’ list. Which, in truth, started as a short list that had been quickly filled with Steve-related moments over the last several months.

All Caught Up In the Rush (Romanogers, 1.8K words)

10. Relief flooded Steve’s chest when he heard the keypad lock on the front door beep. He’d lost Sam and Natasha on comms nearly 30 minutes earlier but was forced to stay put at the safe house, per mission protocol. He was up and out of his chair, barely giving them time to finish punching in the code, before he had the door open. The brief moment of relief was swiftly replaced with confusion and fear at the sight in front of him.

Pull me apart, I'll put you back together (Romanogers, 5K words)

Tagging some of my favorite writers. @whitedahlia13, @zadien @chenfordspiral, @romantashas, @roguetwelve, @thesassywitchofthenortheast, @stxrdust-widow, @makeitastrength , @queseraone

[liviavanrouge]

Upset

Sebastian: *Walks after Ethan, carrying firewood*

Ethan(5): Dad look!

Sebastian: *Looks up, his eyes widening when Ethan slid down the hill on a piece of firewood* Ethan don't!

Sebastian: *Drops the firewood, chasing after his son* JUMP OFF!!

Ethan: *Laughs, tumbling off*

Sebastian: ETHAN!!!

Sebastian; *Drops down and grabs Ethan, slowing them both down before they fell over the cliff side*

Ethan: Dad, did you see that!?

Sebastian: Don't EVER do that again!!

Ethan: Dad....

Sebastian: You could've gotten hurt or worse!!

???: Honey, what's going on with you two!?

Telia: *Hurries over pulling a sled of firewood*

Sam: Hey bud, what's going on?

Telia: Sam, can you...take Ethan back?

Sam: Come on Ethan, let's let your mom and dad talk

Ethan: *Walks after him* Okay...

Telia: Sebastian....what happened?

Sebastian: He...slid down the hill on one of the pieces of wood and I managed to grab him before he got...hurt..

Telia: *Walks over and places a hand on his chest* Hon, you are a good dad, but sometimes you need to communicate these things to Ethan, he doesn't know any better

Telia: Yelling won't make him understand why what he did was wrong..

Telia: You always find a way to make things right with Ethan, I know you'll do the same now..

Sebastian: *Sighs and nods to her* Yeah...

Telia: Alright, I'm gonna find Abigail and get more firewood

Sebastian: Alright

Telia: *Walks away, softly singing* I love you more and more, just don't wanna let you go~~

Sebastian: *Walks away, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets*

Sam: *Smiles, drawing stuff in the snow with Ethan*

Sebastian: Ethan!

Ethan: *Looks up then ducks his head, looking nervous*

Sebastian: *Sighs, walking over* I'm sorry for yelling...I was worried and scared

Ethan: Huh?

Sebastian: Ethan, that wasn't the kind of hill you were supposed to slide down, that was a dangerous area where we had to walk...

Ethan: *Looks down, shuffling his feet* Oh...

Sebastian: If you promise me not to put yourself in danger like that again, I'll take you sledding...

Ethan: *Beams, looking up* YEAH!! Okay!

Sebastian: *Smiles and nods* Alright...

Sam: Hey, why don't we head back and prepare hot coco for your mom!

Ethan: YAY, OKAY!

Sebastian: *Smiles down at Ethan as the child took his hand* Let's go then...

[lovebillyhargrove]

Conversations. A follow up to this

"Okay, I'll go first. Or you start. I don't know, do you wanna go first?"

Steve is putting pasta on a plate

"Not too much, Steve. I still can't eat a lot, gotta go easy."

Steve's putting half of it back and seasons the rest with the sauce. Billy's digging in. It's even nice. Having company, for starters. Seeing Billy alive is nice too. Who would've thought. Who would've fucking thought. Steve's excited and a little nervous, he doesn't know how to behave around Hargrove. The guy used to .. be a bit of an asshole to him, god, when .. ?? It seems like it was in a different lifetime. So much has happened.

"Yeah, so .. what did you actually eat there? What did you drink? I mean, how did you survive?? How did you .. what happened to your .. you had literal holes in your body, man!"

Steve's opening a drawer and taking out a fork for himself but then he sees that he's already got one, so he's sliding the drawer open again to put it back and then nearly drops the strainer.

Why is he so nervous?

"Will you stop fidgeting, Harrington? Just sit down, Jesus."

Billy is chewing his food slowly.

"Fuuck, that's so good. I uh .. I don't remember much at first. I was passed out cold, and I actually never expected to open my eyes again. It was just .. too much pain, pain everywhere. And light, and darkness. I remember laying on the cold ground. Have no idea for how long. Can't really count the time in that place, you know like .. it's just the never-ending night. But then .. the places where the mindflayer had got me, they closed up, started healing .. by themselves. I don't know, weird shit was happening to my body ever since ugh .. since the Brimborn."

"Brimborn?"

"That's when it happened first. At the end of June." - Hargrove's sighing. - "It's such a fucking long story, you sure you wanna listen?"

Steve's looking at him as though the boy is out of his mind.

"Of course I want to."

So Billy tells him about the abandoned Brimborn steelworks mill, about trying to run away from the monster, the excruciating pain and helpless fear. About having absolutely no-one to turn to and ask for help or at least an explanation. About Heather and her family, as well as other families. About the newly-acquired ability of his body to heal, what has probably saved him from bleeding out and dying on the floor of Starcourt.

"Apparently, the motherfucker wanted to teach me a lesson, I don't know. Or make me its puppet, again. It just didn't let me die .. there was a little stream of water going down the cliff down into the lake, and the vines let me walk to that stream. They actually let me walk around sometimes, but not far. The moment I got too far they'd pull me back. The worst was when .. when the bats came. They just .."

Billy is motioning at the hundreds of scratches and actual deep wounds that covered his body.

"But the bats also brought something like food. They would drop it near me, and .."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but don't ask me what it was, Harrington. I really don't know what it was, and I don't wanna think about it .. all I know, it was edible. At least it saved me from starving to death."

"So uh .. that day was the day when I decided to stop.. stop all of it. Not drink, not eat what they gave me. I kinda lost all my hope. Not that I had much of it to begin with but .. I just fucking got tired of it. I really thought you were a hallucination first, Harrington. It seemed like leaving for a better place already."

Billy's is chuckling quietly

And Steve's palms start sweating for no reason.

"So that's .. that's basically it, I guess."

Steve's staring at the other boy with wide open eyes

"Shit, that's uh .. one hell of a story, Billy."

"Your turn, Harrington. How did you get my car back?"

"You want a beer?"

"A beer? Maybe just uh .. a little. Not sure it's a good idea for me to drink a whole bottle, just now."

"No more records to break, keg king ??" - Steve couldn't help himself.

Billy's grinning.

"Yeah right. We should definitely do it sometime though."

"I'll hold you to it, Hargrove."

Billy's face is getting clouded over, like he's having memories of his other life, before being introduced to the horrors of Hawkins and taken around its most peculiar places of interest.

Steve snaps him out of it by telling Billy how he went to the junkyard to find the camaro because he couldn't get rid of the guilt. How he almost died being tied up by the seatbelt and trapped inside, because the car was out for revenge. How he couldn't believe what was happening, but he had to.

Steve tells Billy about the long months of fixing it up, and then about that evening when he went outside and found "Help me" written on the dewy glass. How he asked Eleven to try to locate Billy and find a portal, and then made the decision to go to the upside down, basically on a hunch.

"Are you fucking serious, Harrington? You went there all alone with no back up?"

"Yeah, kinda .."

"You're crazy, dude."

Dude? What happened to pretty boy? You used to call me that, remember? - flashes through Steve's mind.

No more than you are. Steve wants to say but keeps it to himself as well.

Instead he says

"We gotta .. I think we have to call El, let her know you're alive and back. And .. she should probably close that portal. Before the nasties spread all over Hawkins again."

"Actually .. there's no need to call her. I can do it."

Steve's looking at Billy in disbelief.

"What??"

"I think I got like .. powers now, Harrington? I feel it in my .. in my blood, in my bones. In me. Be a good chance to test it."

Steve's kinda choking on his own spit.

"Powers? You've got powers now?? You think??"

"Look, I don't know man. But I kinda feel it, like .. while I was possessed I could do this stuff like I had all this strength. I used it for the evil, but now .. I still have something, and now that I didn't actually break, didn't give in, I could try using it for the good. I guess."

Steve's looking at Billy in awe. Is Hargrove a superhero now?

Well, shit.

"When do you want to do this thing?"

"A couple of days later. I'm still kinda weak."

"Yeah okay .."

Steve has already finished his bottle of beer, but Billy has barely sipped his.

"Any idea on how to get a fake id here? Or revoke a death certificate? I need .. I think I still need a fucking document with my name on it."

Revoking a death certificate would certainly be fun.

"I know who to call. Owens will be able to help with that."

"Who's Owens?"

"The government guy who helped clean up all that mess after Starcourt."

"Government ..?"

"He's alright. He's actually one of the good ones."

Billy's shrugging his shoulders.

"If you say so."

"And hey, tomorrow we're bringing your car to that place I know."

"You free tomorrow?"

Steve's actually very happy to finally have a full day-off.

"Yep."

"Sounds like a plan, Harrington. Thanks for the food. Didn't know you can cook."

Like you know anything about me, Hargrove .. - Steve's thinking and before he can say anything

"I'm beat."

"Yeah, uhm .. maybe the guest room tonight?"

"Sure."

***

Next chapter

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 13

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Quick update this time, guys. As always, please enjoooooy!

"Where's my Dad?" Is the first thing I ask when we make it to the house.

The horse skids to a stop in front of the porch, and I waste no time in sliding to the ground. I hit the grass with a painful grunt, and Rick, who was already on his feet, hurries forward along with Glenn to support me as I try to stand. I grab their bloody hands and they grab my clean ones as I stumble forward, dizzy, trying to get into the house as quickly as possible. I push past them; scramble up the steps. A man I don't recognise blubbers to me that he's sorry, he's so, so sorry, over and over again, but I don't know what for, and Rick sternly warns him to save it for later. He catches up with me; grabs me again. It makes me sick to look at his shirt, which is over-saturated with blood — My Dad's blood — and so I scrunch my face up and turn the other way, like a baby who doesn't wanna look at its peas. Glenn opens the door and Rick helps me inside.

"Is this her?" An elderly man at the end of the foyer asks, wiping his hands — also bloody — on a white rag. "Is this the daughter?"

"Rick, where is he?" I ask again, sniffling.

"Just give us a minute, sir." Rick tells the man.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's right in here, honey."

He leads me to a door on our left that's only open an inch, but it's more than enough to catch a glimpse of my Dad's motionless body lying on top of the covers. From here, it looks like he's dead. Has he always been that pale? A pathetic, weeping sound escapes my mouth at the sight.

"I'm so sorry." The stranger continues pleading. I think he's talking to me. "I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I swear."

"Not now." Rick repeats himself, looking at him over his shoulder.

"He's not dead, is he?" I whimper.

"No." Rick shakes his head, before another I'm sorry comes from behind us, and he frustratedly shouts, "Shane, take him outside."

"C'mon." I hear him order the man. "Buddy, let's go."

As the distressed man gets ushered back outside to the porch, I stare into the room like I'm about to jump off a cliff, when really all I'm about to do is open a door. I feel like the floorboards are about to snap and give out underneath me; like I'm about to fall, like I'm doomed. I reach my hand out and an awful creaking noise echoes throughout the old house as the door slowly swings open. I take a step inside. Rick trails me, followed by Glenn. They're prolly here to make sure I don't pass out, which I think I just might, as I watch my Dad's stomach very closely as it ever so faintly rises and falls with his breath. I shake on the spot, frozen in fear. I've never seen my Dad like this before. It's like it's not even him.

"Daddy?" My voice cracks as I call out to him, beckoning him to wake up. He doesn't.

I see Rick and Glenn in my peripheral exchanging subtle looks.

Outside, I hear, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and Shane sayin', shut up.

I step forward until I'm standing over him.

"Daddy." I whisper, hoping he just couldn't hear me the first time. "Daddy, pl-please wake up?"

One second, he's alive and offering to sing me to sleep, and the next he's struck down, dying in a stranger's bed.

I carefully touch his shoulder, which is bare and warm and familiar, tattooed with thorny roses. I give it a little shake, but nothing happens. I move my fingers upward, onto his stubbled cheek, and then softly over his left eye, and then his right, and then his other cheek. His lashes don't twitch. His lids don't flicker. The only part of him that's moving is his chest. I look down at it again just to remind myself that he's not dead yet, and I watch it go up and down, up and down, up and down for a couple minutes, thinking to myself that this is all my fault.

I should've told someone about Dad and Shane before something like this happened.

Apparently it wasn't Shane who did this, 'cause he's not the one who's apologizing profusely right now, but my gut instincts tell me something is off. I don't know what exactly, but something definitely happened out there while he was gone. There's a reason Shane disappeared for hours too.

Dad always says, listen to what your gut tells ya.

I got no proof and nobody to talk to about it, but I know I'm not wrong.

After a while, Rick takes off his hat and steps forward. The look on his face says this is hard to watch for him.

"Harley," He says, "Let's head back out, now, huh?"

If I ignore the bandage wrapped around his stomach, and the blood on everyone's clothes, I can pretend he's just sleeping.

Hesitantly, I back away from the bed.

His belly continues rising up and down, up and down.

He's just sleeping, I tell myself.

That makes it much easier to leave the room.

My Dad needs surgery.

Well, actually, he needs another surgery. The old man, whose name is Hershel Greene, says that I need to try very hard to remember if I've ever heard a doctor or a nurse or anything like that mention my Dad's blood type before. I tell him I can't, 'cause we almost never went to any doctors before, 'cause my family ain't never liked to make a fuss outta anythin' like that. When I dislocated my shoulder, or Dad grazed his knee, or Merle got himself a concussion, we just stuck it out until it stopped hurtin'. Herschel looks like he don't even know what to say to that.

What this all means is he can't safely give my blood to my Dad.

He says if his blood and the new blood mixes together and they ain't the right ones, it turns into poison.

But my Dad needs blood.

His body can't replace it quickly enough on its own to keep him alive.

Herschel sighs and tells us about something called a universal blood type. It's magical blood that anyone can have injected into them.

They've been using Glenn's blood up until now, but he's given too much. He'll become sick if he gives any more.

Shane speaks up for the very first time when Hershel suggests a trip to a nearby veterinarian college that might store this type of blood, but he only does it after Otis, the man who's very sorry, offers to go first. Herschel makes sure Shane knows this is very dangerous, and might get them both killed, but he still doesn't change his mind. He just says somethin' about saving my Dad no matter the cost, and then the decision is final.

"I'll see ya later, Harley." He tells me as he hugs me goodbye at the door, a giant, empty rucksack over his shoulder. "Be good."

I pull back, wiping my eyes, which have never fully dried since arriving here.

I feel a strong urge to ask him why he agreed to this, seein' as he hates my Dad's guts, but I restrain myself.

"I will." I nod.

"Good girl." He ruffles my hair as he stands.

"Don't die, please."

He smirks. "Don't worry a thing about it."

"Here's a map and the list of things you'll need to find." Herschel hands him a small pile of papers. "Respirator, forceps, et cetera. I need it all."

"You got it." Shane mutters.

Otis tells me he's gonna make this right, but I don't even care. If he dies on this trip, I'll feel nothing.

Shane hugs Rick, and Otis hugs Herschel, and then they leave in Maggie's green car together, driving off into the trees.

"Noble man, that Shane." Comments Herschel.

"Sure is." Rick clears his throat, uncomfortable. "Always... Always has been."

I turn back into the house without saying anything.

"Ouch."

"You're doing good, Harley. Just a few more and then it'll be all over."

I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for Herschel to finish up the last of my new stitches. He put a dollop of numbing cream on the area beforehand, but the tube was basically empty, so it's doin' a whole lotta nothing. Stings like a son of a bitch, Uncle Merle would say.

I think I might be breaking Glenn's hand with how hard I'm squeezing it, but he ain't complaining.

"And there we go." I groan as Herschel drops the needle onto a metal tray, peeling off his gloves. Ugh. It's over, finally. "You should keep them as dry as possible for the first forty-eight hours, and then after that we should change the dressing every three to four days. You might feel some itching, but that's a healthy sign — Try not to touch them. It should be completely healed in two weeks; maybe one. You did well, Harley."

"Very well." Rick agrees.

Hershel chuckles as he sticks a plaster over the wound. "What'd you say you had in there, again? Fishing line?"

"Our friend T-Dog's got stitches with it, too." I say. "He's back at the highway with the others."

"Well, I'll have to take a look at him when he gets here as well."

He picks up the tray and takes it into the kitchen.

Rick says, "I think he'd appreciate that."

"And you, son? How are you feeling? Any dizziness?"

Glenn shakes his head. "Just feel kinda tired."

"That'll pass. Keep drinking plenty of water."

I ask, "Is it gonna hurt as bad when you take the stitches back out again?"

Herschel turns the faucet on, rinsing off his hands.

"Well," He sighs, "That depends on whether or not your group is going to still be here next week."

"Daddy." Maggie warns.

"I can't lie to these people, Maggie." He tells her.

I frown. "We can't leave. My Dad, he needs help."

"I know," He says, "I'm going to do everything I can for him, but this is all temporary — Like a stay in a hospital. It can't be forever."

I've never been to a hospital, so I don't know how they work, but I sure wish I did so I'd be able to argue that he actually should let us stay.

"We're very grateful, either way." Rick interjects. "Can't say enough how you've saved our hides, doin' this."

Maggie changes the subject.

"In the meantime, you're very welcome to help yourself to anythin' you need," She smiles, finishing up as she makes cheese sandwiches for everybody. She cuts them into triangles and comes around to the table, setting a plate in front each of us. "Probably starvin', aren't you?"

"Very." Glenn answers enthusiastically. "Thank you."

"Thank you." Rick nods.

"Thank you."

"Wow. How polite are you guys?" She laughs, sitting down. "Thought you might'a lost your manners spendin' that much time on the road."

"There's definitely nothin' polite out there." Rick scoffs. "Nothin' polite at all."

"How long have you been out there?" Hershel asks.

"Since the very beginning, pretty much. Found us an abandoned quarry for the first few weeks, but that didn't work out. We had to leave."

"Mustn't have been easy."

"No. Nothing is, nowadays." He takes a bite. "Wow, this is good."

"Cheese is homemade." Maggie proudly says. "We get lots of milk from the cows and churnin' it's easy enough. Gives ya muscles, too."

She flexes her arm, trying to make me laugh.

I force a smile so she don't feel bad.

Picking at the corner of my sandwich, which I'd usually be very excited about seein' as it's got real cheese and butter in it, I think of my Dad. Back when all the doctors of the world were still alive, things might've been easier, but all we have left now is the remnants of old procedures, leftover supplies in veterinarian colleges, and stuffy old bedrooms instead of hospital rooms. I ain't even sure his chances would be any good back then, let alone now. If we have to celebrate over cheese, then I don't even wanna think about respirators and forceps and whatever else my Dad needs.

Rick notices that I'm not eating. Being a parent, it's his natural instinct to pester me about it. "You're not hungry, Harley?"

I shake my head and lie, "No."

"I can make you somethin' else, if you'd like." Maggie offers sweetly. "We got an orchard out back. You like peaches?"

"No, thank you." I mutter.

"Here, you want some of mine?" Glenn asks me, holding out half his sandwich. "It's got lettuce in it."

Overwhelmed, I struggle to tell him no.

"Glenn, what kid likes lettuce?" Rick mutters.

"I don't know."

Cheese drops all over the table.

He cusses to himself.

"Maybe I should just get you some juice." Maggie awkwardly suggests. "We have apple?"

"Can I get a paper towel over here?" Glenn cringes, clumsily smearing butter and cheese everywhere. "Please?"

This is too much for me. There are too many people saying too many things, and I can't decide which to listen to. My Dad, he's the one I always listen to, but he's not here right now. It's a sour reminder that makes me feel even worse about everything. I've never been on my own, before.

"Oh, uh, sure." Maggie says, about to stand. "Let me just—"

I beat her to it. My chair scrapes noisily against the floor and I leave my sandwich on the table as I storm out of the room.

I make it down the hall, and I slam my Dad's door closed behind me. Already, I feel better; calmer. It's quiet in here, and slightly dim thanks to the sheer curtains hanging from the bay window. I crawl onto the bed, snuggling up to my Dad's side like a tired cat, and I close my eyes. I listen to the sound of his breathing, and the mooing and clucking outside. It smells like mothballs and blood in here, but I don't mind. It's just me and my Dad.

I don't realize I've fallen asleep until somebody opens the door a few hours later, leaving two pills, water, and a bowl of peaches on the dresser.

I think Dad would tell me to get that shit in yer belly 'fore you keel over, so I tip-toe across the room and stick the pills in my mouth, down the glass of water, and then bring the fruit back to the bed. I nibble on the slices of peach, licking up the sugary, pink juice that coats my fingers.

I don't believe in any God, but I hope that if he's out there, he knows how much I love my Daddy, so he can save him for me.

I doze off again beside my dying Dad.

"So, do we ring the bell? I mean, it looks like people live here, don't it?"

Later in the afternoon, I wake slowly to the sound of T-Dog and Jacqui's voices out on the porch.

"We're kinda past this stuff, aren't we?" She sasses him.

"Just 'cause the world's gone to shit, doesn't mean we gotta."

"Fine. Just ring it, then."

"You ring it."

"What? Why me?"

"I got a sore arm."

"I think you're capable of ringing a bell, T-Dog."

"I might have blood poisoning, lady. You wanna make a chronic patient risk his life to ring a bell for you?"

"Oh my God. You're so dramatic sometimes."

"I'on care. Might be some crazy axe-murderin' dudes livin' here. You do it."

"I ain't gettin' axed. You get axed."

"Nuh-uh. You do it."

I hear the front door open suddenly.

"Can I help you?" Maggie deadpans.

T-Dog and Jacqui make noises of surprise.

"Hello," Jacqui chuckles awkwardly. "We met earlier on the highway. I'm Jacqui Daniels. This is T-Dog."

"Hi," He says.

Maggie hums. "You're the one with the fishing-line sutures, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah. It's not a bite, though." T-Dog clarifies. "I just cut myself pretty bad."

"We'll have it looked at."

"And we got some pain killers, here." Jacqui adds. I hear her shaking the bottle. "If Harley or Daryl need any."

"I already gave her some." Maggie says, "But thank you. Come on inside and I'll make you somethin' to eat. You like cheese sandwiches?"

"Boy, do I." T-Dog answers.

"We got some more people coming. They're hangin' back right now but they'll be here by tomorrow."

Maggie replies, "You'll have to talk to my Dad about that."

The door closes, and they move down the hall and into the living room. They talk for some time, about where Shane and Otis went, and why I've locked myself in this room; how I got new stitches but I should be alright in about a week. T-Dog asks to see me, but Rick advises him against it, 'cause he says I'm a little sensitive right now. Hell yeah, I'm sensitive. They got half a mind to leave me alone forever at this rate.

When they start talking about Dad's surgery, I hold my breath to listen better.

"They don't get back soon," Herschel says, "We're gonna have a decision to make."

"And that is?" Rick asks.

"Whether or not we operate on your man without the respirator."

Instinctually, I put my hand over my Dad's chest, as if they're gonna barge in and do it right now.

"You said that wouldn't work."

"I know. It's extremely unlikely, but we can't wait much longer."

Extremely unlikely.

Oh, God.

I don't wanna listen anymore.

I cover my ears with the pillow and close my eyes.

The next time I wake up, it's night-time.

Glenn stands in the doorway, a stack of blankets in one hand and a brass candle holder in the other, which I think makes him look a little bit like someone from the eighteen hundreds. The tiny orange light flickers over his surprised face, bouncing softly off the walls, the floor, the roof.

"Sorry," He whispers. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Doors are creaky in this place."

I don't like havin' anyone in here, 'cause even though it's not my room or even my house, I feel like it's mine and Dad's space and no-one else's.

But Glenn feels like he belongs here. I'm fine with him being in the room, and Dad would be, too.

I sit up, sleepily rubbing my eyes.

"What's the time?"

He steps inside and carefully sets the candle down on the dresser.

"Like, eleven, I think. Everyone's gone to bed. Maggie told me to give you these," He says, "In case you were cold."

I thank him quietly as he hands me the blankets, helping fit them over both me and my Dad. One of them is the blue blanket with the fish and sharks printed on it, and hidden amongst the fuzzy bundle is Matilda, in all her wild-haired glory. I pick her up. Maggie wouldn't know where to get these things. Jacqui and T-Dog must've brought them when they drove down, thinking of me. That makes me smile for the first time today. 

In the dim light, I notice her dress no longer has any of my blood on it. It's back to clean, green gingham.

"Her dress is clean."

He smiles lightly. "I asked Maggie to clean it for you."

Aw. Maggie's real nice. I feel awful for not eating the sandwich she made me today.

"She did a good job. You can't even tell it was dirty."

"It's vinegar and bath salts." He says, before joking, "Don't tell her I told you that. Apparently, it's like, classified family information."

I promise, "I won't."

"Good. She's scary when she's mad."

"What? When's she ever been mad since we got here?" I laugh. "What'd you do?"

He shrugs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I may or may not have accidentally said her great-grandfather looks like a bald George Washington."

"Wh—?"

"It was a really old photo, alright? How was I supposed to know she'd get offended?"

I roll my eyes. "Glenn, you're an idiot sometimes."

"So I've heard."

The conversation gently tapers to an end, and Glenn is happy to sit with me in the silence that follows, listening as an owl huh-hoots outside in the night. The candle-light morphs across my Dad's peaceful face in strange, fire-colored shapes, contouring his features with harsh blacks and greys; highlighting his bruised eye. Violence always seems to find its way to my Dad, like waves find their way to shore. Shane's out there right now, probably spilling blood and fighting for his life to save my Dad's. I hope violence can put him back together the same way it broke him.

Please, I'd tell Shane if I could, Please, you reckless moron, get back here before it's too late.

"He's gonna pull through." Glenn says, then. He sounds like he's sure of it. "Your Dad's tough."

I know he is. But so was my Uncle Merle, who was one of the toughest men I knew, and he died, too.

"I'm just worried." I whisper, staring at my Dad's face.

Glenn doesn't answer for a while, but then he tells me, "You know, the morning after we found out you weren't infected... Your Dad told me that every day he wakes up, he does it for you." I feel my eyes start to tear up at the memory. "He said you were the most important thing he has."

Harley's my only girl, I remember he said.

I'm all he's got.

But he's my only Dad.

He's all I got, too.

I wonder what might've happened if he never got shot; if he got the chance to sing me to sleep that night, like he promised. I wonder if he'd tell me loves me — If he's sorry for everything; sorry for confusing me so much.

I'd forgive him in a heartbeat.

I know Shane wouldn't want me to — He would want me to stick up for myself — but I just wouldn't be able to help it. I'd forgive him.

Even if he wants to beat me for the rest of my life, I'd let him, as long as he's alive to do it.

When it comes to my Dad, I'm like a puppy weaned off poison. I've learnt to live with its taste. I need it to survive.

"I was awake, you know." I randomly muse.

"Hm?" Glenn tilts his head.

"That morning." I meet his gaze. "On the RV. I was awake the whole time."

He raises a brow. "You were?"

"Yeah."

"I had no idea."

"I know you didn't." I chuckle. "You idiot."

"Woah. I'm just getting it from all sides tonight, aren't I?" He smiles, shaking his head. "It's pretty late, you know. I should let you sleep."

"Okay." I say, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Thanks, Glenn."

"For what?"

"Giving your blood to my Dad. I don't... I don't think he'd be okay without it."

"It was nothing. He's saved my life plenty of times, so I'm just paying him back."

He stands up.

"Okay. Night, Harley."

"Night, Glenn."

He blows the candle out in one breath, and the room goes dark.

Once the door clicks shut, I belatedly mumble, "Night, Dad."

I fall asleep to the sound of his shallow breaths.

"Harley, get up."

It's the middle of the night when Glenn shakes me awake. Car lights blind me as they move across the window. I hear people running upstairs, downstairs, outside; shouting things. I can hardly keep track of anything as I blearily make sense of the room, sitting up with Glenn's help. I try to ask him what's going on, but before I can, I get kicked in the leg by something under the blankets. I gasp, turning to look at my Dad. Glenn tugs on my arm, urging me out of the bed. Without even thinking, I let him pull me out, and I stumble backward toward the door.

I watch in horror as my Dad convulses on the bed, stiff like a board, but moving in all directions.

"What's wrong with him?" I breathe, and there's a moment where I think he's turned; that he's a walker, and I'm petrified at the sight of him.

Rick bursts through the door. "What's going on?"

"I think he's having a seizure." Glenn answers, breathless. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Dad?"

"Get her outta here." Rick points outside, already moving toward the bed. "Shane's back, anyway. It's time for the surgery."

Glenn forces me out the room and into the foyer, where Herschel, in his striped pyjamas, pulls on a pair of medical gloves. He looks sleepy but determined, ready to perform an emergency surgery in his farmhouse, with only the help of his family and a couple strangers.

"Beth, go get some towels." He orders. "Maggie, go turn the generator on. We need light. You over there, is your name Jacqui?"

More people flood into the foyer, only adding to the chaos.

"Yes, sir."

"You helped stitch up your people, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, my sister was a nurse."

"Good. I'll need your help in there. Jimmy, help me carry this stuff inside, will you?"

"W— What do I do?" Glenn asks.

Hershel looks him up and down and answers, "Stay out of the way," before making a bee-line outside.

It's just too crowded in the house.

I follow Herschel outside, into the light of the high-beams.

"Shane?" I call out.

He slams the car door shut, both his and Otis' backpacks slung over his shoulders.

"Where's Otis?" Herschel asks. "What happened?"

He just shakes his head with a dazed expression on his face.

"They kept blocking us at every turn." He stresses, "We w-were down to ten rounds, and I couldn't— I couldn't—"

When he sees me running up to him, he crouches. He catches me as I tackle him in a hug. Tonight is so awful. It's the worst night of my life. I need somebody to hold me like my Dad would, and I know Shane will. He hugs me back tight. His clothes fill my nose with the stink of blood and flesh. This might be the worst night of his life, too, with the way he's trembling; the way his eyes are open, but he's not really seeing anything.

"Then he said he'd cover me and I should keep running," Shane continues, not even sure who he's speaking to. "So that's what I did, I— I ran."

Otis is dead, then. Dead and gone.

"I looked back and— But I— And—"

"We don't tell Patricia." Herschel says to the boy. "Not until after. I need her."

They're going to do the surgery now. They're gonna cut my Dad open and dig around for the bullet in his belly. I cry and slobber onto Shane's shoulder, moaning about how I don't want my Dad to die, and he shushes me softly; tells me everything's gonna be alright. He repeats it over and over, like he needs convincing, too. I don't know what happened to him out there, but he's real shaken up about it. It's driven him to talk nonsense.

"It's gonna be alright, Harley." He mutters, breathing shakily. "It's alright. I did it. We're alright."

"What did you do?" I hiccup, confused.

All he does is continue mumbling, I did it, I did it, I did it.

I pull back, getting a look at him through my teary eyes.

"What'd you do?"

"We're alright."

"Shane, we need the bags." Herschel demands. "We need those supplies, right now."

He shrugs both bags off his shoulders, which land softly in the grass — A little too softly.

I realize, right alongside Herschel and the boy, that they're completely empty.

He gapes. "You didn't get the supplies?"

I push off of Shane and fall to my knees. I rip open the rucksack. I rip open the backpack. Empty, empty, empty.

"What?" I shriek, searching more frantically by the second. "No. No, no, no."

"I'm sorry." He mutters. "I'm sorry, I— I just— I couldn't."

"No, no, no, no!"

Dad's chances of survival without the respirator are extremely unlikely. That's next to nothing. That's zero. That's death. Herschel and the boy cut their losses and turn back into the house, and all I'm left with is two empty bags and a broken heart. I wail on the top of my lungs, hearing the words extremely unlikely, extremely unlikely, over and over again in my head. All this, and they didn't even get the supplies.

"Harley, come here." Shane's voice cracks as he says this, reaching for me again. "Come here, sweetheart."

I collapse into him, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.

"He's gonna die, Shane. Oh, he's gonna die."

"I'm sorry." He murmurs. "I'm sorry, Harley."

"He can't die." I moan, choking on air. "I need him, Shane. I need him. I c— I can't. I need him."

"Hey, hey, no. You got me." He grabs my face; thumbs the tears from my hot, red cheeks. "You got me, remember?"

"He's gonna die-e-e-e."

"Hey, stop."

He wraps me up in a hug, rocking me side to side.

"You got me."

I'm too upset to notice that he's not even trying to convince me that I'm wrong. He doesn't oppose what's happening; doesn't dread it. It's almost like he's embracing it; like this was meant to happen. The possibility of my Dad's death rolls off his shoulders like water. The only reason he's coddling me is because he knows I'm hurting. I know he won't care if Dad dies, but I can't afford to be offended. I can't afford to be alone right now.

My Dad's all I got, but if he dies, then I have nothing.

"You got me." Shane coos. "It's okay."

You got me.

Maybe I won't have nothing.

Despite everything that's happened tonight, I take solace in at least that.

I have Shane.

The next morning, I go into the orchard with Maggie to pick peaches for breakfast.

I didn't sleep at all last night. When she woke up to go to the bathroom, she saw me sitting upright on the sofa, wide awake, and offered to take me outside to try take my mind off things. After she lent me one of her little sister's cardigans to wear, she handed me a wicker basket to collect the peaches in and led me around the side of the old house. A thin mist rises up from the earth, glowing faintly as the sun blushes behind it all.

"I'm sorry ya couldn't sleep last night." Maggie says, trailing the path beside me.

"It's okay. It ain't your fault."

I wasn't allowed to sleep in Dad's room last night. That's why I had so much trouble getting to sleep. I was so paranoid about not bein' able to hear his breathing that between biting my nails and crying my eyes out, I just couldn't relax. Rick and Herschel said it's best I sleep in the living room with everyone else until my Dad wakes up. I ain't stupid. I know it's 'cause he could turn into a walker at any moment, now.

"Me and my sister used to listen to music to help us get to sleep, but since things went South, we've had to make do without. Some nights, I just toss and turn for hours. I'd kill to get my Mp3 player back."

Even though my eyebags are heavy and my back aches, I smile.

"I used to have an Mp3 player, too."

"Really?" She exclaims. "What color?"

"Pink."

"Oh, lucky. We only ever had white ones. Beth used to think they were borin', so she put stickers all over 'em."

I never really had expensive things like that. The only reason I had an Mp3 player was 'cause Merle stole it for me off a lady on the bus.

"What kinda music did you like listenin' to?" Maggie asks.

"Uh. What my Dad liked, I guess. Sometimes it was good, but most the time it was just people screamin'."

She laughs. "Yeah, he seems the type to listen to that stuff."

"How you mean?"

"The tattoos. The flannel shirt. The edgy rings."

I chuckle. You know what, I guess he is.

"He used to have even more rings." I tell Maggie. "He had a whole bunch. They had snakes and skulls and stuff on 'em. He had knuckle dusters, too, but he didn't wear 'em, really. But my Uncle Merle sold most my Dad's stuff one day, and now he only has a few left."

"Why'd he do that?"

I shrug. "Dad went to prison for a while. We needed money."

Maggie stops in her tracks. "Wow. Your Dad went to prison?"

"Uh-huh. Arrendale State Prison."

"What for?"

I don't think I should answer that, 'cause the answer's, he murdered someone. People here might not like him so much if they know he killed someone before it was necessary to survive. Everybody back home used to know all about how Daryl Dixon clobbered Ronnie Fletcher to death, and it was a bit of a glorious tale for a while, but nobody treated him any different. If anythin', they were just a little more scared of him than they already were. He used to get free drinks because of all the rumours. Daryl killed a good-for-nothin' pedo, was the whispered headline. I got no idea what that last word means, but apparently it's good if you kill 'em. I heard nobody but Ronnie's Momma went to his funeral that year.

Maggie senses that I won't elaborate, so she asks a different question. "Did you miss him when he was gone?"

I pluck a low-hanging peach, setting it in my basket. "Yeah... I cried just about every day."

"That must've been hard." She smiles a little sadly.

We continue down the aisle of spindly, green trees together.

"Made for a good story, in the end, at least." Maggie throws a peach to me, and I manage to catch it. "Dad goin' to prison? That's pretty badass. I bet no kids messed with you in school after that, huh?"

I giggle. "No, I guess not."

There was this one boy, Issac, who used to pull on my ponytail in class. Dad told me to kick him in the nuts next time he did it, and I did, and he never bothered me again. It was also common knowledge that if you look at a Dixon the wrong way, they'll either mess you up or snap your neck.

I tell her all of this, and she scoffs.

"My Daddy used to just tell us girls to pray for 'em."

"Did it work?"

"Some things you can't just pray away." She sighs. "Like little boys in fifth grade who poured glitter paint down your trainin' bra."

"What!" I scrunch up my nose. "That's way worse than pony-tail pullin'."

She nods. "Mm-hmm. I think I'm still washing out that glitter to this day, you know."

"Boys are stupid."

"You got that right."

We fill our baskets a little more before heading back. She asks if I want to stop by the chicken coop and see the new hatchlings, and I of course say yes right away. She opens the little door for me, and I duck inside, overwhelmed by all the chirping and clucking and cute little faces looking up at me. Maggie tells me to sit down, because she's going to show me a trick. I take a seat in the pokey straw and watch as she sits beside me.

"Watch this." She wiggles her brows, biting a chunk off a peach. She spits it out and places it on her hand, then lifts her arm in the air.

The closest chicken, whose got a very fancy red and white mow-hawk of sorts, squats and wiggles its butt.

"What's it doin'?" I whisper.

"Shh." Maggie hushes. "Don't wanna ruin her groove."

She makes little kissy noises at the chicken. It tilts its head curiously. Then it jumps in a flurry of wings and feathers onto Maggie's forearm.

It perches there, pecking at the fruit.

"Woah," I exclaim. "She jumped so high!"

"Sure did." Maggie chuckles, lowering her arm to let me pet the chicken. "When I was little, I used to try gettin' 'em to jump through hoops."

"Like a chicken circus." I giggle.

"Yeah." She smiles. "Can't say it ever worked out, though. These are strictly egg-layin' hens only."

"Eggs are my favorite."

"You wanna add 'em to the menu this morning?"

Excited, I nod. "Can we have 'em scrambled?"

"We can have 'em however you like."

"Definitely scrambled."

"Scrambled it is, then."

We take a couple speckled brown eggs from the nests and put them in with our fresh peaches.

When we make it back to the house, I realize that Maggie's plan worked. A whole half hour passed, and I wasn't anxious for one minute of it.

"Is that eggs?"

T-Dog comes into the kitchen a while later, obviously lured in here by his nose. Maggie's pancake, egg, and peach breakfast smells like heaven mixed with sugar and syrup, and I can't hardly stop myself from just gobblin' it all down right now.

"Pasture-raised." Maggie confirms happily. "Thought y'all could do with a bit of a pick-me-up after yesterday."

"Mornin', Harley." He smiles before sitting at the bench. "As long as it's no trouble."

"Trouble?" Maggie scoffs. "No. Ain't no trouble. We're up to our eyeballs in eggs this time of year. Trust me, you're doin' us a favor by eatin' 'em."

"If you say so." T-Dog shrugs.

"How's your arm?" I ask him. "Maggie's Dad sew you up, too?"

"Yeah. Gave me some actual antibiotics to go along with it." He sighs, relived. "See? Told you we'd pull through."

"Uh, I remember Dale sayin' that."

"Pssh. Dale, Shmale."

"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "Just be glad he ain't here to say I told you so."

As the smell of breakfast slowly fills the house, everybody starts filing into the kitchen — Rick, looking as tired as I do. Beth, already filled with enough energy to out-power the sun. Herschel, dressed in his smart suspenders, with a kiss on the cheek for both his daughters. The teenage boy, Jimmy, and Patricia, who definitely got the terrible news broken to her last night about Otis' death, judging by her gloomy mood.

Jacqui stays behind in Dad's room. There has to be an adult in there at all times to keep an eye on him.

And finally, Shane. He comes in last. The first thing I notice about him is that he ain't got no hair anymore. It's gone. Like, buzzed, gone.

"Morning, y'all." He mutters, slinking off to the table, alone.

"Interesting new haircut." Patricia snobs as she sips some apple juice.

"Why'd he go and do that for?" T-Dog chuckles. "He startin' a rap career we don't know about?"

"Leave him be." Rick says wearily. "He had a rough time yesterday."

"Did he tell you what happened?" Herschel asks.

He shakes his head. "Somethin' tells me it's best not to ask, neither. Let's just wait for him to tell us in his own time."

All the Greenes try not to make it too obvious that they're eyeing Shane, but the rest of us know by now to ignore him, so that's what we do. I think I'm not the only one who's itching for a story, though. It makes no sense that he not only returned alone with a dead man's backpack, but he returned completely empty-handed, too. Two bags'a nothing. That whole campus, and he didn't even bring back a band aid?

Maggie and Beth scramble the last of the eggs and hand everybody a plate.

We all waste no time digging in.

"Damn." T-Dog groans. "You got a golden goose out there? 'Cause these are the best damn eggs I ever ate."

Everybody murmurs a similar sentiment as they bite down the spongey pancakes and salted eggs.

This meal is the best thing to happen to us since the fish fry.

I save some eggs for my Dad, 'cause scrambled are his favorite. It's why I chose 'em. I like to think he'll wake up soon enough to eat 'em.

But we've still got a long road ahead of us.

Author's Note.

I LOVE THE FARM. The vibes are just, ugh!! Perfect!

Welcome to the chapter where Shane starts to go off the rails. We've been rooting for him so far as opposed to Daryl, but things are just gonna keep getting greyer and greyer from here on out. Redemption arc here we come. Also... a bit of a who-dunnit thing going on. I think it's pretty obvious, but the timeline's a bit confusing, so maybe not. Besides, Otis seemed pretty guilty 🤷‍♀️

Please share your thoughts below on this chapter! I always love reading your comments. It brightens my day every single time. As always, thanks for reading! Sending love! <3

[cannedbeefaroni]

Sorry for the torture of an ask but could you write something about reader getting rejected by burt? Like some maybe they're close friends n neighbours and one day reader is just drunk and accidentally confesses BSDHVSB im so sorry

(Imma just write a drabble about this because if I put too much effort into it I’ll explode like squidward falling off a cliff on a bike 💀)

You’d be at his place one night, having dinner and a few drinks. Well, he’s the one having a few drinks, you end up taking the bottle for yourself and drinking straight from it. It was Friday night, and you both had excruciatingly long weeks. Work was hell, you’ve had issues with your family, and the person you’ve been dating for a few weeks decided to dump you on a whim.

Burt felt for you, he really did. He hated seeing you so upset, and he wanted to help you feel better. He enjoyed having dinner with you, so it wasn’t anything new for you two to hang out like this. Both you and him were overworked and lonely, and it was nice to have each other.

It was difficult trying to act like nothing was bothering you that night, but the drunker you got, the easier it was to forget. You grew tired and loopy, but giggly all at the same time. As Burt spoke to you about his day, you dozed off, not registering a work he said. You just stared at him as you held your face in you hand, slumped over the table. Your face, ears, throat, and chest were all burning at once. Your head was sliding down your arm as you failed to stay awake, causing it to slam into the table, waking you back up.

"Are you okay?" Burt asks, horrified as his hands jolt forward, ready to help you up. Clumsily, you sit up, laughing at yourself incoherently. "Maybe you should head back to your place and get some sleep?"

"Mmh, you're kicking me out?" you whine, pinching your eyebrows together in annoyance.

"No, I just think you're due for some sleep. You're exhausted."

"Lemme stay here, please?"

"Why? You're right next door. I'll walk you if you want," he walks around the table, offering his hand to help you up from your seat. Instead, you throw yourself at him, hugging him tight, sitll in your seat with your face pressed against his stomach.

"Burt, please don't make me leave," you cry, gripping his back. Gently, he hugs you back, caressing your head as he sighs. You stand so you can rest your head on his shoulder, and his arms rest around your upper back. A massive lump in your throat forms, and your heart beats rapidly.

"Please don't leave me, I love you," you sob, and you feel his arms start to shake.

"Please, no. Not like this," his voice trembles, making you cry harder.

"Why can't you like me back?" you grip his shirt tightly, keeping your face buried against his shoulder, not looking at him.

"You're not in your right mind right now, and you know I'm still not over her. I just can't be with you, or anyone for that matter," he states sternly, trying to set the record straight without hurting you any further, and failing.

"It's not fair," you weep, sniffling hard.

"I know. I'm sorry," he pets your head, letting you cry as much as you need.

"Don't make me go, I don't wanna be alone," you choke on your sobs, then hiccup in your drunkenness.

"You can sleep on the couch if you need," he sighs, and you nod, head still pressed against him.

He takes you by both hands, slowly leading you to the sofa so you won't fall over. Once you reach it's edge, you flop over onto it, and Burt sits next to you. Shuffling, you move yourself up to lay your head on his lap, and he lets you, resting his hand on your head. You want to thank him, but you just can't find the words. You lay in silence, feeling his hand caressing your head. It's difficult to think of anything besides how nice his body heat feels against you, and how you want to stay like this forever.

"I'm so stupid," you mumble, sleepily.

"You're not. You're amazing," he whispers, and it's the last thing you remember before dozing off.