#talk about how much you wanna go farm

[icarusbetide]

washington's resting bitch face game so strong his countrymen treated him like a god and elected him unanimously for all sorts of shit.

[neverendingford]

.

[juneberrie]

DATING APPLEJACK !

request || equestria girls!apple jack x fem!reader

author's note: everyone say thank you to mars for encouraging my delusions & to the person who requested this. also ive been picturing her the way @/cloiiiiii on tiktok draws her so like yeah

ⓘ word count : 0.8k || applejack masterlist

probably didn't realize she liked you until someone (rarity) told her

"what? no way, i don't like-" and then the "HOLY SHIT I DO LIKE HER!"

she was the last to know

rainbow and rarity have to give her advice on asking you out (rarity's is serious and helpful, dash's is just "ask her out dumbass")

probably asked you out with flowers.

"so uh– i was wondering' if you'd, uh, y'know, wanna go out with me sometime? it's fine if not– y'know what, nevermind its stupi–"

she's so nervous!!!

anyways onto the actual dating hcs

she was the one to say i love you first

you guys were probably taking a walk or something and you were talking and she'll like smile at you really lovingly and go "i love you, y'know"

calls you really cheesy nicknames — sugar, sugar cube, pretty girl, my girl, princess, angel, darlin', missy, sweetheart, sweet pea, honey, etc etc

would take you on the cutest dates!!!

sunsets, picnics, apple picking (duh), late night drives

if u like shopping then she's def the kind of girl who'll hold all your bags

she'll also walk you to all your classes / walk you home

also!!! kind of gf who won't leave u alone in public. like if you guys go out she WILL stay with you at all times cause yk 😕

she's such a sweetheart

will open doors for you and get offended if you try to do ANYTHING yourself

SHE WAS RAISED RIGHT 🗣

can and will give you her clothes to wear. PLEAAASE wear her flannels/shirts around her she will lose her mind

"well, darlin', don't you look nice?" whenever u get dressed up

she either gets flustered really easily or she doesnt

pls imagine her in like. a white tank and jeans and cowboy boots

1 million dead 4923 injured

her voice in the morning >>>>>

it has a little rasp and her accent is like ten times thicker and just ugh

she's jacked btw. apple jacked.

she grew up up a farm like what'd u expect

anyways imagine needing to get smth off a shelf or something and she just comes up behind you and reaches to grab the thing and her arms ohmygod

love languages are definitely acts of service & quality time

CONSTANTLY doing little things for you

holding open the door, getting you flowers every week, randomly cleaning your room when she's at your house, filling up ur drink, ordering for you, etc

such a "my girl" kind of gf

"attagirl" "my girl" "pretty girl" "sweet girl"

randomly gives u compliments

also!! i don't see her as the kind of gf who comments under ur insta posts but she's def the kind who'll post them on her story

she's not a very social media person in general, but any post she does make is probably of you

would def write you a sappy letter on your anniversary/valentines/christmas/new years/your birthday

basically any chance she gets she'll write u a long, sappy letter telling you how much she appreciates you and loves you and yap yap yap

i don't see her as a person who wears much jewelry, but i can definitely see her having a locket with your picture in it, or some kind of matching bracelet

randomly starts yapping about you to the girls

"she's so sweet and i love her an–" "SHUT UP WE GET IT." "dang okay"

they're your biggest fans!!!

pinkie probably made a fan account on insta thats just her posting cute pictures of you guys

rarity helps applejack plan dates and shit

dash playfully flirts with you any chance she gets because she finds it hilarious when aj glares at her

speaking of that, i can't see her being someone who gets jealous super super easily?

like, i can definitely see her sidling up beside you, putting an arm around your waist, and glaring at the person who's flirting with you

"who's this, darlin'?"

she has an rbf so if you're really sunshine-y you guys look ridiculous tg

scary guard dog gf!!!!

such an early riser but if you ask her to stay in bed with you she'll be so dramatic about it (she'll sigh and be like "alright, alright, but just this once" <- its happened multiple times)

apple bloom adores you!!! she'll randomly barge into aj's room to talk to you (aj thinks its cute how much she likes you but she does NOT appreciate her sister's interruption)

100% your biggest supporter

if you do theatre or choir or orchestra, she'll show up to EVERY. SINGLE. PERFORMANCE. you will ever have

if you do sports, trust she'll be at all your games yelling her head off and holding a big ass sign

she's really good at cooking so she'll learn how to make your favorite dishes!!! this also means you guys have cute little dinners at home a lot <3

© juneberrie 2024 – reblogs are appreciated!!!

[spcowboyau]

HOMEWARD BOUND: PROLOGUE 2

STAN: So.. what's going on? Who are you? ???: Right, how rude of me. My name is Kyle. Kyle Br- KYLE: Just-.. Kyle. STAN: ...Pleasure. STAN: I'm Stanley Marsh, but please, just call me Stan. KYLE: Nice to meet you, Stan. KYLE: ... KYLE: I'm sorry we had to meet this way. But then again, if it wasn't like this how else would we have met, isn't that right? STAN: I suppose you're right about that, heh. STAN: ...It's alright though, about this. I don't mind the extra company. KYLE: I'm glad. STAN: Yeah.

STAN: I feel like I should, uh, ask.. where am I supposed to take you? KYLE: Oh, uh, I don't.. know...? STAN: ...You don't know? KYLE: No, I don't. Could I maybe just... stay with you?? STAN: (STAN: Score!?!?) KYLE: nevermindthatssuchastupidthingtoaskfromatotalstrangerimsosor- STAN: NONO HEY- it's alright pardner, we'll uh, we'll find a place for you.. eventually......... for now.. I guess you can just stick with me. STAN: ...Tell you what, how 'bout I take you back to my daddy's farm? I'll fix you up with an old horse I don't ride no more. We can stop by at the saloon on the way too!-- only if you want... KYLE: ?! KYLE: I'd love to! Thank you so much! STAN: Giddy up then, boy! 'Ts no big deal.

BUTTERS: Why, isnt't this a nice surprise! If it isn't ole Stanley! Y-You ain't been through in a while! STAN: Butters, cheery as always! BUTTERS: Ahh, and a brand new face to join yours? How about that! STAN: That's right, meet Mr. Kyle here. No last name, he's a mysterious one, isn't he? KYLE: Y. Yeah. I guess I am ahaha BUTTERS: Now wait a diddly-darn minute! Ain't you the one from them posters they hung up all around the county?! KYLE: POSTERS?? STAN: Posters?? BUTTERS: Y-Yeah there's posters alright! As a matter of fact, here's one right now! 100 bucks so far!

KYLE: Shit, oh god, Stan what do we do?? (STAN: Broflovski?? Like Gerald Broflovski??) KYLE: STAN??!!?! STAN: Huh what hu huh KYLE: I SAID. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO. STAN: Oh, uh, don't worry too much about it... This happens all the time. We'll just keep a low profile I guess. KYLE: KYLE: Okay. This is fine. Okay. STAN: Butters, fix this man a drink, will ya? STAN: And me. Fix me one too. BUTTERS: O-On it, good sir! STAN: STAN: You'll be alright. I promise you, I've had bounties on my head n' I'm just fine aren't I? KYLE: I guess so, KYLE: This is. so much. All at once. STAN: Wanna talk about it? KYLE: No, not yet. KYLE: I want to just live right now.

STAN: Alright. STAN: Take your time.

★ PREVIOUS (START) | NEXT

[ageofevermore]

ITS BRIGHTER NOW

SUMMARY — until you met your girls, you once believed love would be burning red, but it turns out, it’s everything in between, and that couldn’t be more golden. i wanna be defined by the things that i love, not the things i hate, not the things that i’m afraid of, not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night, i just think that you are what you love

PROMPTS — “sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you” & “will you stay with me?”

WARNINGS — mentions of battle, injury, anxiety, overall just fluff and comfort for arguably the best avengers and their girlfriend

Like every relationship, yours has its ups and downs. Although most times, you’re met with nothing but outstanding partners who try their absolute hardest to maintain open communication and boundaries, they’re still human, and Avengers, and while some consider that a fairytale circumstance, not many stop to think about how challenging it can be at its worst moments. Not many people, or any at all who aren’t in the lifestyle or one similar, think about how they’re gone for days at a time, sometimes weeks or months if it’s an undercover mission, and how when they finally do get back, they’re never the same as how they left. But honestly, how could they be? They’ve done things no average citizen would ever be expected to do, seen things and handled situations that are dangerous and traumatizing, and just like anyone else, those things haunt them. Wanda is better about unpacking those skeletons in her closet then Natasha is, but the both of them take things personally, and if things go south, it’s never good.

Both of your girlfriends had been gone from the compound for days. They’d been called out to an active Hydra base in Russia, and three days later, things had gone south and they’d been in active combat since. You didn’t talk to them much, with battles and timezones and everything else that got in your way, but you had heard through the grapevine that Wanda was pretty banged up and Natasha had been left with no choice but to shoot to kill after a particularly gruesome fight. Hearing that never got any easier, especially when they were halfway across the world and had no idea when they’d return. It was missions like these that made you yearn for a simpler life. One where Wanda was an artist, Natasha probably took up something flexible like tattooing, and you did literally anything else to just have some peace and quiet and promised safety.

You had met Natasha first, after Maria recruited you to join Shield. She had been skeptical of you, as she was of everyone, but you broke down her walls as easily as you’d picked the lock to Clint’s farm the one time you were placed on a strike mission together. She had been hurt pretty badly, and his farm was the closest place to land. That had been an interesting day, no thanks to your girlfriend who was draped across your arm with a shallow bullet wound and a startled Laura who was screeching about blood on her new couch. Things with Clint were still chaotic as ever, but he eventually got over you busting his brand new lock, and the two of you joked about it now, although now you had a key so no locks had to be busted in the event of an unplanned visit happening again. When you met Wanda, she fell into your dynamic easily, and at first, neither you nor Natasha had realized that you’d kind of adopted her as a third girlfriend until a drunken night when she ended up in your bed and never left. Now, sleeping without them is hard, but you’re forced to manage as best as you can, seeing as you don't really have much of a choice.

It was going onto the sixth night without them home when you finally retired from the couch, and decided to head to bed, figuring that at two in the morning there was no chance of them coming back until the next morning at the earliest. It was hard enough when one of them was on an active mission with no return date, but when both of them were gone, it truly felt like your heart was missing from your chest and you were just going through the motions and holding your breath until they got back. Most people only had one person to worry about, but having two people to lose, with jobs in this line of work, you felt like you were always looking over your shoulder and expecting the worst. As often as they could, your girlfriends declined missions together, even though they felt comfortable on the battlefield together and it was a comfort to not be alone, but neither one of them wanted to risk not coming home to you. They didn’t have a choice this time, so reluctantly they packed up their duffles and headed for the quinjet, with a kiss on your head and a promise that they would fight to come home to you, that they would try to make it back. There were still two mugs of tea on the countertop in the mini kitchen, and although it was disgusting and the tea had gone bad, you couldn’t bring yourself to clean them up. If that was the last thing they ever touched with you, when they were just Wanda and Natasha and not Avengers, you wanted the picture of mismatched mugs burned into your eyelids for the rest of your life. They deserved to be remembered as real, genuine, soft and stubborn, sometimes infuriating but lovable and loved people, not just heroes who had a cause when things went south.

You tossed and turned for probably an hour, groaning in annoyance for how empty your bed felt without them. How had you gotten so attached? That was the one thing you’d tried your hardest not to do when you got into this, and yet here you are, in Natasha’s t-shirt and Wanda’s panties, unable to sleep because the bed feels too cold and the walls feel too big and the room feels too empty and your heart feels misplaced. You’d heard somebody say love is golden once, not burning red, and you’d never understood that until a moment like this a few years ago, when Natasha left for the first time and you were utterly alone in the tower. They were golden, they were light, they were pouring rain in the middle of the day with the sun shining and not a cloud in sight, and they are the best moments of your life that you wish you could frame in a moving picture, because no, a picture can’t say a million words when it’s them. You need every word in the dictionary and then some. You will never be able to elaborate on how much you love them without falling short, and feeling like there's still so much you could’ve said. Everything felt so gray without them. It had to be after three in the morning when you finally fell asleep, probably closer to four, but you didn’t think about how long you’d been waiting up for them, just flopped onto your back and sprawled out like a starfish, and let sleep take over so you could have a few hours without consciously missing them. Missing them was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You’re pulled from your sleep by hushed voices and a door closing, convinced that the hinges are louder at inappropriate times just to spite you. You try to ignore it at first, finally in a comfortable position and getting some rest after a long day of running trials with Cho, but the noises persist despite your displeasure. A sound between a groan and a whine is extracted from your chest when something bumps into the bed, and any thought of going back to sleep leaves your mind. Unlike your girlfriends who can sleep through a natural disaster and fall asleep again if god forbid it wakes them up, once your eyes open you’re awake for the day, and it seems like this is where your day starts.

Although with blurred vision from the very few hours of sleep in your eyes, you’re able make out Wanda hunched over the bed, grasping at her side that is noticeably bloody, while Natasha is digging through the drawers to your left probably attempting to find a loose fitting top for Wanda to change into. All exhaustion leaves your body at the sight of them, and you spring up, rubbing your eyes with a wince as they burn in disagreement with your current state of consciousness. Wanda’s head snaps up, on high alert, but she forces her shoulders to relax when she realizes that it’s just you and not a threat.

“Sorry, we didn’t want to wake you.” She apologizes weakly, through clenched teeth and apparent sleepiness. You wonder when the last time they got a decent amount of rest, when they weren’t looking over their shoulders in paranoia or tossing and turning in pain from an injury that couldn’t be properly treated, but you force yourself to not dwell on it too much. You can’t change the past, and neither can they, all that matters is how they recover, and how they need you to help them heal from everything they were exposed to while in Russia. You’re the clean up, another factor that nobody considers while talking about how romantic and protected you must feel having two superheroes as partners. If anything, you feel more exposed. Like all eyes are on you and a monster is always lurking in the room over.

“No, no that’s okay. I only went to sleep a few hours ago, anyway. Here.” You know that the shirt Natasha is probably looking for is the one currently on your body, and you offer it to Wanda with no hesitation, already making a b-line for her when she just barely has the strength to reach for it herself. You pull the bloodied top over her head gently, thankful that the blood it’s soaked with is dry, and her wound is covered in gauze, meaning they’d probably stopped by the medbay before they made their way in here. “A little banged up, aren’t you?” You comment, although it's rhetorical and you know she won’t tell you how it happened just yet. That usually comes a few days after the mission, when the trauma isn’t so fresh and they’re not still on edge that something else is coming for them. You help her out of her pants as well, thanking Natasha when she hands you a fresh pair of undergarments to pull up Wanda’s legs before you even have to ask.

“We’re still in one piece.” Natasha promises, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. She’s tense all over, but she does her best to relax as she holds you, grounding herself in the moment and not the nightmares that have been going around in circles in her mind since getting on the quinjet to come home. “We missed you.” She kisses the skin beneath your ear, lingering for a few seconds before she untangles herself completely and gets ready for bed herself.

“That’s all that matters.” You reassure her, pecking Wanda’s lips gently, knowing she doesn’t have the energy or the strength to match any moment of passion right now. It’s not something that bothers you, maybe it used to, just the slightest bit, but it’s a routine you’re used to now. “I missed you too.”

“I told Steve we’re not taking any missions for a while. Especially not together.” Natasha hands you another one of her tops to slip into, and watches you throw Wanda’s bloodied one into the garbage beside your vanity. She won’t wear it again, not when it’s got so much history now, even if you could get the blood stain out. Again, it’s a routine you’ve found comfort in. The clothes they return home in almost always end up in the garbage, no time for working through PTSD that’s stitched into the fabric when you can just get something new to start fresh in.

“That’s good. I heard from Maria how tough this one was. I don’t know if I slept much the first few days.” You hate to worry them, or make them feel bad, but they hate when you’re not honest with them, and there’s nothing any of you can do about them being sent out on missions, so it’s not like you’re haroboring negative feelings toward them directly, which they understand, but your girlfriends do a great job of beating themselves up about certain things out of their control, this being one of them.

“Or at all. We still have cameras, you know.” Natasha muses, thoroughly amused when you turn a deep shade of crimson and kick Wanda’s discarded pants up toward her. Your other girlfriend, who has been noticeably quiet through the entire exchange, is curled up in bed, looking unbothered by the conversation but intent on finally getting some sleep in her own bed without the possibility of being blown to bits by the enemy.

“Spying on me, are you Romanoff?” You tease, shutting all the drawers Natasha left open and picking up all of her discarded clothes to throw them in the bin as well. She thanks you silently with her eyes that are practically bleeding with pain and adoration, but you don’t say anything. This is the least you can do for them right now.

“Gotta keep an eye on my girl.” Although it’s an easy statement, you know that it’s riddled with nothing but genuine anxiety. Both of your girlfriends are worrywarts when it comes to leaving you alone, for any amount of time but especially undetermined chunks like this mission, and although its heartwarming to be so cared for, it breaks your heart to know that they have valid reasons to be afraid. Another thing nobody even considers when they make comments toward your relationship. Wanda makes a huffing sound beside Natasha and both of your lips twitch in amusement, “On one of my girls, sorry, malysh.”

“You both should get some rest.” You comment, seeing that almost an hour has passed since they stumbled in. You won’t be able to fall asleep again, and even if you could, you’re apprehensive to crawl into bed with Wanda and accidentally hurt her more, so you have all intentions of wishing them a goodnight and going to finally clean up the mugs of tea that are resting on the counter.

“Where are you going?” Natasha wonders, watching you closely, like she’s scared that you’re going to fall apart right in front of her. You hate these moments, when they’re first getting back and they still feel like they’re stranded in a battlefield. It takes days to get back to some kind of normalcy without walking on eggshells, and by that time, they’re usually cleared to start training again and working their strength up for the next mission. One day, you just want to be done, but they’re not ready yet and that's okay.

“To clean up the tea mugs you left before you went. I didn’t have the heart to clean them up, in case…” You train off, but Natasha knows what you’re going to say and her face sinks even deeper.

“In case we didn’t come back.” She finishes your thought, hand rubbing Wanda’s back now that the woman is on her belly, seeking pressure against her wound that’s probably aching beneath the gauze. She shouldn’t be putting any pressure on it, but you’re not about to scold her right now. She needs to be comfortable, any torn stitches can easily be mended tomorrow morning when she’s well rested.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, releasing the tension that gathered in your shoulders at the simple thought of losing them. They’re okay this time, you can let go of all that pent up anxiety and dread for the time being. But it crosses your mind that there's always next time, and they might not get so lucky.

“Will you stay with me? Please?” Wanda asks, voice muffled by the pillow her face is pressed into, her arms beneath her head as she gives Natasha full access to her back, and the aching muscles that have probably been pulled a couple thousand times since leaving. Natasha works harder at releasing some of that tension, looking at you with broken eyes that you can’t say no too. Your worries are squandered when Wanda speaks again, lifting her head just enough to be able to see your face, peering into your eyes with a passion and seriousness that burns you inside. “You won’t hurt me, stop thinking that. I just want to hold my girl.”

“Ahem.” Natasha clears her throat, and Wanda lets the slightest smile pull her tired lips upward.

“One of my girls, sorry, detka.” She apologies before dropping her face back into the pillow, tightening her grip on it when Natasha hits a sore spot in her back. The redhead keeps at it, knowing how easily the Sokovian can pull her muscles when she’s lifting heavy things with just her tendrils.

“Are my thoughts that loud?” You ask meekly, abandoning your intention of straightening up the kitchen and instead coming closer to the end bed, still without pants and just Natasha’s shirt that hangs to your mid thigh.

Natasha stops rubbing Wanda’s back in order to grab at your thighs and pull you closer, rubbing the skin of your legs the same way she had been rubbing Wanda’s back. Though she’ll never admit it, you and Wanda have a sneaking suspicion her love language is physical touch, and that just maybe, physically feeling you both silences her anxieties over you just disappearing from her. Whatever her reason, neither of you protest, and admittedly crave her touch by the end of the night when you crawl into bed.

“Mhmm, I promise I’m okay. Doesn’t really hurt anymore, s’just sore.” She promised, sounding half asleep the longer she lays, adjusting her head so her neck is turned toward both you and Natasha, but her eyes are closed, a content smirk on her lips that only grows bigger when she hears you sigh your agreeance and then feels the bed dip with your weight as you climb into bed.

“Lay your ass down, or I’m gonna fall asleep sitting up.” Natasha scolds, playfully slapping your ass as you crawl over her and into the center of the bed, which is no longer warm from your body. You settle in between them, humming contently when Wanda loops an arm around your waist and then Natasha pulled you into her chest, your legs intertangling messily beneath the sheets.

“I missed this. I can’t sleep when you’re gone, everything feels so empty.” You admit, letting your eyes close even if you’re going to have a few hours of painful silence and stillness before you can even consider actually falling asleep.

Natasha presses her lips into your head and Wanda tightens her arm around your middle, neither saying anything, but not having to as their words and their presence says it all. Surprisingly, you fall asleep in minutes, and not a single one of you wakes up for the next ten hours, desperately needing the rest all together again.

[equestriagirl16]

Y/N: I’m sorry.

Sebastian: For what?

Y/N: *handing him Frozen Tears* For bothering you.

Sebastian: ..well if you think it’s bothering me then why do you keep doing it?

Y/N: …

Y/N: ..I think it’s all I know how to do.

Y/N: I came here ready to start over, I was so excited to see new things and meet new people. That I forgot how bad I am with words..with how it doesn’t feel like I can always tell others how much they mean to me.

Sebastian: You seem to have it pretty well thought out.

Y/N: *chuckle* That’s because it’s all I think about. But I get so busy with work and the farm, trying to make the most out of everything. Being communal just gets tiring.

Sebastian: Preaching to the choir.

Y/N: And when I like people..more than I think I should. Nothings more terrifying than screwing that up so..

Y/N: What’s more full proof than shoving gifts in your faces, without another word.

Sebastian: …

Y/N: And I’m sorry-*hic*

Sebastian: !

Y/N: I’m sorry that I-I’m trying to make you like me-*sniff* I’m sorry that it’s so hard to tell you!*sob*

Sebastian: Hey, but you’re telling me right now aren’t you?

Y/N: But it’s scary, I’m scared. I don’t wanna mess up again! Not after getting to start over!

Sebastian: ..not everything’s going to be perfect. Believe me if everyone could auto reset their lives they would. That’s why we get second chances, and I think your doing a pretty good job with this one.

Y/N: …

Sebastian: Plus I don’t think it’s fair to hate the way you show love. Talking to people everyday sounds excruciating, but you’ve seemed to have found a pretty good way to work around that.

Sebastian: Actions speak louder than words after all.

Y/N: Heh-*sniff* Yeah I guess so.

Sebastian: …

Y/N: …

Y/N: *hands him more Frozen Tears* Thanks for letting me bother you.

Sebastian: Hm, anytime.

[thefreakandthehair]

@steddiemas day 1: deck the halls | wc: 1.2k | rated: m

Robin Buckley loves Christmas.

Like, really loves Christmas. If she could convince Steve to put the tree up in their little shitbox apartment the day after Halloween, she would. In fact, she'd tried last year but Steve reminded her that a live tree would be a needleless fire hazard by Christmas Day and she refuses to entertain the idea of a fake tree.

Absolutely not. Live tree or bust.

And this is how Steve ends up at the Christmas Tree Farm the day after Thanksgiving, dragged around with a fond if not tired smile as she checks tree after tree, pulling their branches, checking their strength and health.

"It has to be a Blue Spruce to hold those heavy ornaments from my parents, and none of these are Blue Spruces!" She bemoans, whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "Are you even helping?"

He rolls his eyes and sips the hot chocolate that warms him from the inside. "I'm here as moral support and to cut the thing down when you find it." Steve wiggles the little saw he'd been handed and nods her on.

Robin scoffs and marches back towards him. "I think there are some Blue Spruces in the lot towards the back."

Without a question, he turns on his heel and follows her. This isn't their first Christmas Tree Hunt so he knows the drill. No matter how much he actually hates Blue Spruces because the needles are sharp and stick him when they hang the lights, he'll never say a word. Not when it makes his best friend this happy.

Eventually, they make the trek through muddy grass and Robin does, in fact, find a Blue Spruce that makes her eyes light up in the hidden away lot.

"This is it," she beams. "This is the one."

"Perfect, here, hold this--" Steve hands her his mug and starts to lean down, only for the tree to start shaking.

A man in ripped jeans and Reeboks lies beneath the tree, his own saw just beginning to make its mark in the stump of the spiky, healthy Spruce.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing? This is our tree." Robin says, reaching through branches to hold it steady. "We were just about to cut it down, back off."

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that he won't defend Robin's honor and get into a fight in a Christmas Tree Farm for her, he'd just really rather not.

The mystery man pokes his head out from under the tree with furrowed brows and two needles sticking out from the top of his head, dirt on his denim jacket that protects what looks like a red and black flannel. Steve's definitely been watching way too many Hallmark movies with Robin lately because holy shit, he's cute.

"Listen, my best friend wants this tree, and I don't even wanna be under here but if she doesn't get this Blue Whatever-The-Fuck, someone's halls are getting decked and it'll probably be mine. So, sorry." He shrugs and returns to his place under the tree. 

Robin looks at Steve, bewildered and frazzled simultaneously. Do something, she mouths. 

Like what? He mouths back, scrunching his face and contorting his mouth. 

She widens her eyes and jerks her head to the side, desperate. 

He should’ve known Robin would be responsible for his demise. 

“C’mon, man, we’ve been here for two hours looking for a tree.” Steve gets no response, just a few grunts that shouldn’t go straight to his crotch but what can he say? It’s been awhile.

He steps forward and lies down beneath the tree with the Tree Thief. “Is she here with you? Your best friend who seems as fucking rabid as mine is here about these trees?” 

Steve watches as the man focuses on the tree stump, rhythmic back and forth motions of the saw moving his torso along the ground with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Maybe I can talk to her? Or send Robin? She’s… convincing?” 

“Chrissy wants this one, dude. Hate to break it to you.” 

“Ah, okay. Robin and Chrissy. Well, I’m Steve, and you’re…?” 

The sawing stops as he catches his breath. “Eddie. I’m Eddie. And unless you’re gonna help under here, you might wanna move. I don’t wanna drop this on you.” 

Steve pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a chance. Reaching out, he places one hand on top of Eddie’s. “Can I make you a deal?” 

Eddie startles, eyes flickering back and forth from the space where their hands touch on the rough bark of the tree up to Steve’s gaze. 

“Depends on the deal, I suppose.” Maybe Steve imagines the flush to his cheeks and the playful grin that blossoms across his lips. All he knows about Eddie is that his best friend’s name is Chrissy and that he has the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s maybe ever seen. 

Not maybe. Definitely. 

“Uh,” he shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of whatever Christmas romcom he thinks he’s living in. “What if we help you and Chrissy find another tree and I help you cut it down? I’ll even carry it to the car for you.” 

“What are you, some sort of lumberjack?”

“Nope,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, joking as he leans closer, like an idiot. “Just desperate not to get my halls decked.” It earns him a genuine smile and surprised laugh punched from Eddie’s lungs. 

“Alright,” he taps the saw on the trunk and smirks over at Steve, mere inches apart beneath a Christmas tree. Close enough for the faint scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and Old Spice cologne to permeate the strength of the resinous spruce. “You help us find another tree, lug it to the car, and then meet me for coffee after? Seems like the least you can do, all things considered.” 

Trading numbers with the guy he met while bargaining for Robin’s dream Christmas tree isn’t the weirdest moment of his life, but it’s certainly on the shortlist. As is plucking rogue needles out of his hair when they come up from beneath the tree.

He ends up lugging two Blue Spruces to the parking lot an hour later in two trips— Robin chatting with Chrissy in front of them and Eddie at his side, gravitating closer and closer until their arms nearly touch. 

“You know, you didn’t actually have to do this,” Eddie says, moving away from Steve and to the other side of Chrissy's sedan to help tie the tree to the roof. “You’re not like, actually obligated or whatever.” 

Steve finishes tying his end of the knot and looks across at Eddie, finding him standing with hopeful eyes and a piece of hair drawn in front of his face. 

“Oh, I know.” He smiles and shrugs. “But I want to. Especially the coffee-with-you-after part.” 

“Not until we get this thing up and decked, Munson!” Chrissy pops up next to Eddie at the same time Robin appears next to Steve, both of them practically bouncing on their heels and grinning ear to ear. 

Robin nudges Steve in the side and he looks down to see her phone held out, Chrissy’s number typed into her contacts with a tiny pink heart to it. He gives her a subtle, excited thumbs up from below Eddie and Chrissy’s view beneath the car. 

Eddie slings an arm across Chrissy’s shoulders and ruffles her hair before she fixes her ponytail, indignant. 

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’ll uh, I’ll text you?” 

Eddie nods and turns himself and Chrissy towards the front of the car. As he gets in the passenger seat, he looks back at Steve with a mischievous wink most likely emboldened by Steve’s brash flirtation. 

“The sooner, the better.”

[alanisinstone]

domestic dad!bakugou that has a chubby wife 🥺

cw: slight nsfw, slight angst (microscopic levels), FLUFFF, mention of pregnancy, mention of children

a/n: hi friends, this is the first time i've posted in a while and hopefully not the last, i have lots of ideas that i wanna share. if ya'll have requests or any little blurbs, hit a girl up

So they have like 6 kids right, because bakugou cant keep his hands off of her. and he has so much love and admiration for her not only because of how amazing of a mother and wife she is, but for going through pregnancy and labor 6 fuckin times. and she bodies that shit like every time and comes out better, faster, and stronger. but after their 6th kid, they think its time to slow down because sir this is not a breeding farm (👀)

and so wife has never been thin per se, but after this 6th kid, she looks in the mirror sometimes and feels like a whale. she still loves herself, but all those years of not minding the baby weight, she starts to feel like she's put on a very noticeable amount. her first priority ofc is taking care of her babies but standing in front of the mirror and critiquing herself has become an increasingly time consuming addition to her day.

she spends less and less time busying herself with things outside of work like going out with friends or running errands, and spends more and more time in her and katsuki's bedroom trying on all of her clothes, lingerie, and checking all her angles in the mirror. and she hides it damn well because no one notices, not even kat's. she decides to take matters into her own hands and starts doing some more exercise than she usually does, going to the gym and going on runs with the stroller. But the more she does, it seems the more apparent it becomes to her that nothing is changing.

kat's first sign that something is up is when he finds her rummaging through his side of the closet looking for who knows what. babe what'r ya doin? he comes up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, with a confused look. i'm lookin for some clothes to wear to lunch with the girls she mumbles out still sifting through his things. in my side? whats over here that cha need hon? he says nuzzling into her neck looking curiously at what she's picking out. i dont know i'm just looking for something she huffs, feeling frustrated and out of luck that as she suspected, none of his clothes are even remotely cute enough for the outing. okay baby, i'm gonna go run the kids to moms. he says giving her a quick peck on the cheek, unwrapping from her, and walking out of the closet. she spends a couple more minutes looking but ultimately finds nothing, and then she feels like shit so she ends up canceling on the girls.

kat's second sign is when she turns down an invitation to a hero event. it wasn't the annual hero gala, but it was a pretty big event with lots of top level heroes, big sponsors, and rich people in attendance. it peaked katsuki's suspicion because she never turned down a chance to dress up and go out with him, and her response was blunt. he kinda presses her like, babe you love galas, whats going on?? but she stands firm in that she does NOT want to go and that shes just kinda feeling icky postpartum. he reluctantly goes along with it, and the headlines are talking about his appearance without her for like a week. now hes kind of suspicious so hes keeping an extra close eye on her activity.

the third and final straw is when she abruptly disappears one saturday evening right before their scheduled date night. the kids were at their grandparents, and kats was busy in his office when he noticed the time, quickly getting up and going to go find her so they could talk about what they're wearing. babe? baby? he checked all around until he walked up stairs towards their room and heard faint sniffling through the door. He walks into the room cautiously but concerned, finds nothing, then follows the sound of her increasingly intense sobs. He slowly opens the closet door with a quiet baby? and sees her, cheeks streaked with tears, curled up in a ball on the floor, looking very distraught. Of course he still takes a small second to admire her beauty but then hes immediately on the floor with her arms moving her to his lap, hands coming up to her cute, tear-stricken face. honey whats wrong? what happened? he coos, trying to understand what could have possibly made her so upset.. and she just can't stand keeping it in any longer so she spills everything, saying how since the last baby she feels huge, and very unsexy, and that she knows he loves her but she doesn't feel like he wants her sexually anymore, and it seems like everyone in the world is so rude nowadays, and the skinny soccer moms look at her funny now, and the karens at the school seem to think shes apart of their group for some reason...

bakugou listens intently to every single thing she has to say but is also beating him self up fr for not catching any of this. he wouldn't hesitate to say that she is absolutely his rock and nothing less, but hes also supposed to be hers, and he feels like he failed at that. if he couldn't see that something was wrong and help her through it than what kind of husband is he? baby listen to me he whispers all of those scary thoughts bouncing around up there? he brushes her hair back out of her face its all just noise. you are the most beautiful, intelligent, kind, loving person that i ever have and ever will know. i admire you more than you'll ever understand. you make me a better man, you raise our kids so beautifully, with love and patience, and i guarantee you, everyone you come across knows that you are the kindest soul there is. and if theres someone fucking your shit up you know ill take care of it. you glow inside and out baby, you light up any room that you walk into. and ill be reminding you every day now since you can't seem to get it through your stubborn head.

shes not sobbing anymore but shes gazing into his eyes in awe of how she could possibly have locked him down. she closes the space between them, kissing him on the lips softly, pouring out all her love for him hoping it conveys what she can't seem to put into words. And he feels it washing over him; the sweet, soft, gentle but passionate love that they share being opened up like a pandora's box. it seeps into every corner of the house, every crevice of their bodies, and sparks with every touch and caress. he can smell it in the air and she can hear it ringing in her ears. its not visible in the way material things are but its even more present in every way, it takes up all space there is to take and grows and expands.

they're lost in eachother - in the love sticking to them like glitter. kats breaks away to make one more point and if you think im not attracted to you, you are horribly mistaken. and thats the least of it. im unhealthily obsessed with you babe. you are the only thing i see. you and your body is on my mind 90% of the day, and im constantly fighting a hard on. i can't even get it up to porn anymore. she hits him upside the head laughing. their bodies still and forever entangled in the love they've made.

likes and reblogs appreciated!

©  alanisinstone 2022 — do not steal, plagiarise, or modify my content.

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 7)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: references to previous SAs (not described in detail), manipulation, thoughts of self-harm and suicide.⚠️

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 7 (7.8k) | 10 Weeks Later | It’s the last Thursday in March and you’re helping pack up the wagon for Hank and his daughter, Amber, to make one of their weekly trips into town. The milk churns are loaded in the back, filled and ready for delivery to the Valley residents in town. You double check the breast collars on the horses and the traces going to the wagon while Hank asks if you’re sure you don’t wanna come with? He asks every week and every week your answer is the same.

“No thank you, Hank, there’s plenty to do here.”

While that’s certainly true, it’s not the real reason you never join them. There’s plenty to keep you busy and never a shortage of chores on a dairy farm, especially one that has almost no electrical power to help run it. But the more honest reason you don’t join them in town is that it would complicate your ability to avoid Joel. Part of you felt a finality when you got here, that whatever it was between you was over and you’d start fresh and finally be rid of him. But you should have known better. You should have known he’d still haunt you.

Your mind has still been full of him, filled with memories of the good times and the bad. You think you see him out of the corner of your eye, in places he shouldn’t be, but when you turn to look, of course he isn't there. Sometimes you think you can smell him when you walk into your room at night, but he’s definitely never been in there. You can usually avoid actively seeing him, since Hank doesn’t like to attend the Friday night events and Joel would never come this far out of town with as busy as he’s kept by Tess. But you can’t avoid him on Sundays.

Hank never presses the issue when he asks you to join him on Thursday nights, but joining them on Sundays isn’t optional. As a devout man, Hank requires everyone to dress in their best clothes and make the hour-long ride into town so you can all sit in the big, old church and hear about God’s plan for you. Every Sunday you see Joel in the front row, sitting through the service before he gets up and makes his usual speech. You scoot down in the pew, making yourself as small as possible, trying not to draw attention. He gives you none.

Once the service is over, everyone funnels out of the church to the rec hall next door. You walk past the closet where you were on your knees for your false god and try not to burn at the shameful feeling that washes over you, twisting your stomach into knots. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. Sometimes Tess comes over to your table at dinner and talks to the Mansfields, making sure to ask how you’re doing and gives you kind smiles. But Joel never comes over. He sits at his table with the other women – and Beth – and keeps his back turned to you. 

You once thought that it seemed like he was putting extra effort into purposely not looking your way. You pushed the preposterous thought from your mind until you realized too late one Sunday that you were in a line to shake his hand before dinner. You were busy re-plaiting Amber’s braid at her insistence and didn’t notice how close you were to him until you heard his gruff voice speaking to Hank. It was too late for you to run the other way, which is what you usually did, so instead you ducked down, trying to hide behind Amber, knowing it was futile. 

Amber beamed at him, shaking his hand with both of hers, bubbling with praise over how great his speech was and what a great job he did. Her little crush on him had never been more annoying than it was at that moment. You knew that he knew you were there, there was no way to hide your entire body behind Amber’s diminutive frame. And yet, you watched his eyes jump over you and land on the next person in line, completely – and purposely – ignoring your presence. He was definitely making an effort.

– 

All of that happened nearly two months ago and now you just make absolutely sure to pay attention and stay away from him on Sundays, so you don’t have to notice him not noticing you. In fact, these days you hardly think of him at all. Okay, maybe that’s not quite true, but you’d like to think that in comparison to when you first got to the Mansfield’s, you’re doing much better.

The first night you’d arrived, Amber had led you up the stairs to her room, which she said you’d be sharing. The room was huge, probably three times bigger than the room you had been calling yours. You had a comfortable bed all to yourself on one side of the room as well as three dresser drawers and half the closet to fill with your things. You hadn’t brought anywhere near enough clothes to go in the spaces, but you found that Beth had unexpectedly left several items of clothing behind in a size that fit you.

When the lanterns were snuffed out for the night you’d laid your head on the pillow and cried heaving, muffled sobs, hoping Amber wouldn’t hear you. Why were you crying? You had more space and more autonomy at that moment than you’d had in months. You had a bedroom door that closed and a family that was eager to have you. No one was going to hit you, touch you, or scream at you. You were safe. And yet you felt so alone. More alone than you had in a very long time.

You’d let yourself cry until your head ached, and then you got up and walked to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on your warm, puffy face. You looked in the mirror and began to chide your pitiful reflection. 

Why are you crying over him? Why would you miss him? What is wrong with you?

These same thoughts repeated for the first week, playing over and over in your mind every time you started to feel sad. So stupid of you to cry as if you were the only one in the world with problems. The whole world had gone to hell and you were crying because some man lied to you. You shouldn’t have even fucking trusted him in the first place. You’d let yourself fall right into his trap even though everything inside you was telling you not to.

–

You wonder if he misses you or if he’s already moved on to the next one. Maybe Beth has fully replaced you and his focus is on her now, already suffocating her with affection and fucking her in your old bed. Had he asked Tess about you, or Hank, or anyone? You have thoughts about getting sick or even dying, and wonder what he would say when he heard, if he would feel bad, if he would shed a tear. He most likely wouldn’t care at all, his fixation with you having run its course. You were yesterday’s news.

You think about hurting yourself and if he’d do anything about that. Maybe he’d come out to the farm and visit you; sit by your bedside and read to you. Maybe he’d throw you over his knee and spank you for it. You wonder if you should leave The Valley, and you’re not sure which would hurt more; him coming after you or him letting you go. Maybe you should kill yourself. He’s not around to stop you. No one is.

Goddamnit, you are so fucking dramatic. None of this shit matters, anyway – your life was always a burning pile of trash and it was always going to be a burning pile of trash. A couple-months-blip of whatever pseudo-relationship you had with this man was not the pinnacle of your life. He wasn’t sent by some higher power to save you. You weren’t two halves of a whole, ripped apart at the beginning of creation, roaming the ends of the earth to find each other again. Get a fucking grip.

Oh, you were used by a man for your body? What else is new? That’s not breaking fucking news, that’s just what men do. That’s what men do to you. That is what your life has always been and clearly you’re some kind of magnet for this behavior. There is obviously something about you that all these men see and it calls out to them that you’ll fall for their bullshit every time and they can take whatever they want from you. You’re doing something wrong, leading them on somehow. You deserve this. You were asking for it.

At the end of the first week you’d told yourself you weren’t gonna go on with these spiraling, obsessive, pathetic thoughts about him anymore. You were exhausted at feeling this way and were sure everyone around you was getting tired of it too, of you moping around the farm like Eeyore, sniveling and crying. You were distracted all the time, head in the clouds. Months worth of hopes and dreams played over and over in your mind, each recalled moment had hit you like a fucking shotgun blast to the stomach.

Giggling in the hallway while he kissed your neck and tickled your skin with his stubble. Pow.

The phantom feeling of his fingertips tracing circles on your skin while he reads to you. Pow.

The heat of his body behind you, sniffing your hair, whispering, “Good morning, baby.” Pow.

His tongue sliding along your bottom lip, licking into your mouth, tasting you. Pow.

How stupid were you to think that’s what your life was going to be like? As if it could ever be like that. Your life isn’t a fucking movie, it’s not a love song, it’s not some sappy romance novel. You’re not the main character, you’re not the heroine. You don't get a happy ending. You get to be used. You get to be left. You get to be alone. You get to be hungry. You get to feel empty.

That’s what you had before, why would it be any different now, here – at the end of the world? Why would you deserve anything different?

–

You need to stop your hyper-fixating thoughts, you feel like you’re going crazy out here, haunted by him. There’s no one you can talk to or confide in, no one you trust. You have to find a way to get this out of your system. You need to figure out how to move on. You decide you’re going to let yourself have each memory one time, and then you’re gonna pack it up and send it away, so it can’t hurt you anymore. 

You find an old stack of newspapers in the loft of the barn and begin ripping off small sections. Each time you have one of these spiraling thoughts of him – losing yourself in a memory – you walk to the edge of the property and stand next to the creek that runs through there. You let yourself have the thought, from start to finish, and before you can repeat it or turn it over in your head to overthink it, you crumple the scrap of paper in your hand – crunching it down into a tiny little ball – and throw it into the creek. Once it’s out of sight you don’t let yourself dwell on it anymore. 

The conversation you had one evening, limbs entwined, between making out like teenagers on the chilly front porch, saying that if he’d met you before the world ended he’d have taken you out on a date. 

“Where would you take me?”

“Out for ice cream, to a baseball game, maybe a drive-in movie.”

“What movie?”

“Any movie you wanted to see, baby.”

“What else?”

“I’d bring you flowers, hold your hand, kiss you goodnight.”

“Would you call me after?”

“Of course I would, you’d be my girl.” 

His girl. His. His possession. Maybe that’s all he ever wanted; to own you like you were just another one of his little things on a shelf.

Into the river.

Right around Thanksgiving, he’d told you more about Sarah, his daughter. He’d told you she loved the color purple, drawing butterflies, playing soccer with her friends, and giving her old man shit. You’d thought the shine in his eyes when he talked about her was one of the best things about him. 

“Single dad?” 

“Yup.”

“Ever married?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Just never appealed to me.”

You didn’t read into it at the time but you wonder now if you shouldn’t have seen the signs, if it wasn’t obvious and you were just being willfully ignorant. Oh well.

Into the river.

You told him about going with a friend and her stepdad to their lake house for an overnight when you were little. You and your friend had spent all day playing in the water and when it was time for bed she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. The loud, squealing of the air conditioning kicking on and off kept you awake and you reluctantly got up to ask the only adult to make it stop. He suggested you sleep in his bed instead, lifting the covers for you to join him. Against your better instincts, you crawled in. 

“How old were you?” he asked with gritted teeth. 

“Maybe eight.”

He cursed under his breath. “Wasn’t right.”

“I know.” 

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that too.”

“He shouldn’t ha–” 

“I know, Joel.”

“You tell anyone? Your mom, your dad?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know… I guess it felt like something you’re supposed to keep secret.” 

“Did he ever–?” 

“No. I never saw him again. And I never hung out with that girl again.” 

What’s worse? The memory of it, the shame of recalling it in front of him, or the way he pitied you, holding you tighter in his arms that night than he ever had before?

Into the river.

This was your routine, sometimes once or twice a day, sometimes more. One particularly hard day early on you made nearly a dozen trips to the river. Amber asked if you were okay. You lied and told her you were fine. You had to let him go, each thought you released cleansing you of him, letting the water wash away your pain. This went on for weeks and weeks and you’re not sure if you’re actually getting better but you are feeling a little better and maybe that’s all you can hope for. 

–

Amber used to ask you a million questions a day about him. What was Joel like? Was he nice? What was his house like? What did you do there? Was it fun? You didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was both your ultimate dream and your worst nightmare, that his house was a trap that he held you in while he manipulated and hurt you, and that he was a monster hiding in plain sight in this community he created just for that purpose. Instead of divulging that heinous truth, you suffice to tell her that Joel is kind, the house is nice, and living there was fine.

It was obvious that she had a little thing for him, but if you’re being honest she probably got it from her mother, who talked about Joel with the same dreamy lilt to her voice as Amber. Hank also seemed to get misty-eyed when he talked about what great things Joel has done for the people in this valley. A wolf emerges in the apocalypse, disguising himself as a shepherd, and the sheep all flock to him. You remind yourself not to judge them too harshly since you too were once one of the sheep.

You’d been living with the Mansfields for about a month when Amber started to make comments about Beth coming back to the house. Your stomach lept into your throat, thinking that it meant you’d have to go back to your tiny, doorless room at Joel’s house. But the more she spoke the more you realized she was acting like she would be the one going to live at Joel’s. You realized that you saw them last Sunday, hunched in a corner, talking to each other. You’d just assumed she had trapped him into talking to her, knowing how captivated she was with everything that came out of his mouth.

But now you wonder if they haven’t been growing closer, getting to know each other at the Thursday meetings she insisted on going to when you turned down Hank’s offer to accompany him as Beth had. Maybe he likes how infatuated she is with him, it certainly seems like that’s something he’d be into – being worshiped. Maybe he’s already offered her the little room at the top of the stairs. She can mend holes in clothes and cook much better than you ever could, maybe she’d suck his dick better than you too. You hate the way your insides churn even more at that thought.

He’s moved on, forgotten about you. He’s onto the next one. He doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Hank had his wife, Laurel, give you chores early on, doing some of the work that Beth used to do around the house. However, she quickly realized what Tess had already figured out, that you weren’t any good at that kind of stuff. Within a week you had exhausted her patience and she sent you out to the barn for Hank to find work for you. 

You’re pretty sure Hank liked you, you’d always had nice conversations with him on Thursdays, relating to him that your grandparents had a farm and you’d grown up visiting it. You’d left out the part where the farm was no longer operational when you visited it and maybe Hank had been happy to have you and Beth switch rooms when he thought he was getting some kind of experienced farm worker. So Hank gave you plenty of work, as there was always a ton to do, and then left you unsupervised most of the day while he tended to the silo levels, the pasture fences, the sanitizing of the milk churns, and countless other tasks.

Two ranch hands – Danny and Diego – live at the house with the family and spend every day, all day, working with Hank to operate the farm. They help milk the cows and goats, tend to sick animals, help with feedings, take care of cleaning of the freestalls, and also pretty much do every single job that Hank assigns to you.

You think they felt bad for you, with your puffy face and red eyes, dragging yourself around the barn during that dark before dawn at the end of that first week. Feeling dejected and out of sorts, missing the familiarity of your old home, being useless at basic homestead chores – they kept catching you crying in any corner you could find to yourself. They started doing your work back then, and even though that was over two months ago, you still barely lift a finger. Hank never seems to notice, all he cares is that the work is done.

You don’t talk much, you just keep to yourself and pet the animals. For a while you thought they must think you were stupid, but it turns out they just wanted to get on your good side. One day early on, they asked if you’d told Tess or Joel about them, and not knowing what the answer should be, you’d muttered not yet, and ran away. It wasn’t until you walked into the barn one snowy morning weeks later and found them standing too close to each other that it even dawned on you what part of them they were asking about.

You knew Hank wouldn’t approve if he saw them behaving that way, if he knew what it implied. Maybe he’d already seen them, and a threat had been made. Hank was a conservative man, old fashioned and strict. You thought maybe the phrase small-minded might also apply, but Hank was kind to all of you, so you tried not to judge him too harshly. You weren’t entirely sure why Danny and Diego were worried about Tess or Joel finding out about their relationship, but you were pretty sure they wouldn’t give a shit. 

Joel was probably fucking half the women in town, why would he care if two guys down the valley were fucking each other? You kept that tidbit to yourself, along with the stories that Tess used to tell you about her gay brother, so that Danny and Diego would keep helping you – keep doing all your work. That was probably a little fucked up, to hold it over their heads in a way, but it also kept your boots from being covered in cow shit from mucking stalls all morning and your fingers from freezing off while milking cows all afternoon. It also meant you got to hang out with baby goats, which was sometimes the only happiness you had.

–

It’s the last Sunday in March and you’re sitting in the middle of the pew, wedged between Amber and Diego, as Joel gets up to address the congregation. Before you can do your usual sinking down in the seat to make yourself less visible, you see Bianca out of the corner of your eye. Bianca is here! You haven’t seen her since she moved out of the house before Thanksgiving.

You’re so focused on trying to look around the people’s heads in front of you to see her that you aren’t fully listening to the announcement Joel is making. Everyone around you begins to stand up and applaud and it makes it impossible to see Bianca, so you stand as well, confused now what everyone is clapping for. Slowly the applause dies down and everyone is sitting back down, but trying to get a glimpse of your friend, you remain standing a little too long.

And that’s when you see it. The baby. A very small baby. A newborn baby. Joel is holding it and smiling and as everyone sits down he hands it back to Bianca. You forget you’re supposed to be sitting down and don’t notice that everyone else around you is already seated. You’re still standing there, staring at this baby. Bianca has a baby? Wait, is that Joel’s fucking baby?

Amber is tugging on your shirt sleeve but it’s too late, Joel has turned back to the crowd, and for the first time in ten weeks, he looks right at you. You can’t fucking move, you can’t look away. The two of you stare at each other for far too long and you notice people starting to look back and forth between you, a low murmur spreading over the mass. Amber starts pulling frantically on your arm and Hank’s voice booms from the end of the row, ordering you to sit down. You hear Tess hissing Joel’s name from the front row.

A cheshire cat grin creeps across his face and he finally breaks eye contact with you, turning to address the congregation once more. You sit, plopping down heavily in your seat. You think Hank and his wife are whispering about you and Amber is telling you how embarrassing that was, but you can’t hear anything over the thumping of your own heart and the ringing in your ears. Bianca was fucking pregnant… the whole time? The whole time. Bile rises in your throat. Only then does it dawn on you that Tess moved her out when she started to show. That’s why she was getting bigger. Saliva begins to flood your mouth.

Joel fucked every woman in that house. Jesus fucking Christ, you were so blind. Your stomach lurches. He must fuck Tess too. No wonder Tess wanted you out of there – you were taking up too much of his time, too much of his focus. That’s probably why she sent Bianca away too, looking at her pregnant belly would have been a reminder that Joel was fucking all those other people. Tess must be jealous, right? You don’t blame her. You’d be jealous too. Fuck, you are jealous. Still. Even now, after all this time. 

You jump up out of your seat and scrabble over laps, ignoring Hank’s protests you exit the pew and dart out of the sanctuary. Once in the foyer you run into the nearest bathroom and retch into the sink, unable to make it to the toilet. Once the contents of your stomach have been emptied out, you splash your face with water and rinse your mouth out.

–

You hide in the bathroom until the service ends, listening as people pass by the door, telling Amber you’re fine and you’ll meet the family in the rec hall when she comes in to check on you. You wait until you don’t hear any more conversation or shuffling feet in the foyer to finally exit the bathroom. The entire building is empty except for one other person who is waiting outside the bathroom when you come out.

Joel.

Your boots squeak on the floor as you stop quickly in your tracks with the full weight of his attention on you now. You forgot how heavy it feels, locked in his gaze – an invisible weight pushing down on your body and trapping you where you stand. You can’t run away, you can’t even manage to look away. How does he still have this fucking effect on you? He stands before you, seemingly just a man, but taking up the whole room, monumental and intimidating. But in this moment, caught up in the flood of emotions you feel, you forget that you’re supposed to be afraid of him. You forget because the strongest thing you feel right now is anger.

“Is that your baby?” you snarl.

He scoffs and waits a beat, letting you anticipate his response. “That’s none of your goddamn business,” he replies – in a church – one corner of his mouth turning up.

“Fuck you.”

He cocks an eyebrow and takes a single step towards you, a reminder that you should be afraid of him. You gasp and take two steps backwards, colliding with the wall behind you, your head hitting it with a thump that echoes in the empty hall. He’s searching your face now, eyes pausing on your mouth. You’re reminded that the closet where he had you on your knees is only a few feet away. Your heart starts to race and you take rapid breaths, feeling the adrenaline begin to course through your veins.

No. He’s not gonna intimidate you. He’s going to fucking answer you.

“Who’s baby was that?” you ask again, louder this time. He looks surprised you’re still speaking. “Is that your fucking baby?”

“What do you care?” he snaps.

“I– I don’t,” you stammer.

Another scoff. He’s fucking laughing at you. Another smug grin. This son of a bitch. 

“Well now,” he shakes his head slowly, “That really doesn’t seem like the truth.”  He takes measured steps forward, closing in on you.

“It is,” you manage to squeak out, swallowing around the lump in your throat with an audible gulp. This is the least fucking convincing thing you’ve ever said. “I don’t care. I just wanna know–”

Tsk, he hums, interrupting you. “Sounds like a lie to me,” he shakes his head more and takes another step, nearly toe to toe with you now.

You do everything in your power to keep your chin up, to keep your eyes locked on his and your teeth gritted. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself. 

“You’d know,” you spit. “All you do is lie.” You’re half insulting him, half reminding yourself.

“At least I’m good at it, sweetheart.”

–

The ride back to the farm is quiet. Laurel asks if you’re feeling okay but otherwise no one mentions the scene you and Joel made during the service. Once you get back you head to your room with Amber, both of you changing into less formal clothes to do your afternoon chores. You dress slowly, letting her finish first and leave you alone in the room. 

You pull the backpack Tess had given you the night you came here out of the back of the closet. When she had handed it to you behind the skating rink, it was already packed with your clothes and any little trinkets you’d had in your room. She’d packed you a couple books but you noticed she hadn’t included the one Joel had given you on Christmas, the one you never read, the one you never even took to your room, the one you tried not to think about every time you saw it sitting on the mantle. 

You had told her you would give Beth your room and she pulled this bag out of a wagon, ready to send you on your way. She was ready for you to go even if you weren’t, and so you went. That night. Without so much as a goodbye. You take that bag now and hold it by your legs, walking down the stairs to the basement as casually as possible.

When you come up from the basement, you run out to the barn to pretend to do your afternoon chores. Danny and Diego do anything you were expected to do and you spend time petting some of your favorite goats and hanging out in the hayloft. When the sun begins to set you rip a large piece of newspaper off the stack and climb down, sneaking out of the barn, down the lane, and to the creek.

It’s time to let go of another memory. Maybe your last one? This is a big one. You’ve been holding onto it, trying your best not to think of it, willing yourself to pass over it the way Joel’s eyes would pass over you on Sundays. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been unwilling to let it go. Until now. Now it’s time.

You let yourself remember the night…

You’d already let him into your pants in the hallway after the meeting a few weeks prior, and you knew that fucking him was an eventuality. That week the meeting ended late and every other person shuffled out of the meeting hall before you had even finished putting the chairs away. Joel stood at the door, holding it open for the last farmer and his son, letting the cold, snowy air pour in as he said his goodbyes.

When he quietly closed the door, he turned to the open, empty room and looked you in the eyes. He reached over and flipped all the light switches, casting the room in sudden darkness. With no time for your eyes to adjust you were temporarily blind, hands immediately out at your front, searching, waiting for him to sneak up on you. Your nervous giggle is interrupted by the flick and hiss of a match and then he’s right there, only a couple feet in front of you, lighting a candle.

He leans over and sets it on the ground and then brings his match to a second candle. He repeats this process until there is a wide circle of what must be a dozen burning lights surrounding you both on the floor. He steps inside the circle, holds out his hand for yours, and you swear you can hear music when he pulls you in tight to his body and begins swaying back and forth with you.

This is new, being alone together like this. You’ve never been anywhere so quiet with him. At home it’s hardly ever quiet, and even when you do get time alone with him, it always seems to be interrupted. If you go home right now, he goes to his bedroom, you go to yours, and the night ends – but here, dancing in his arms amidst the flames, time slows down.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Joel,” you’d teased.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you’d said, your head resting on his body.

He grazed his lips across your cheek, placing kisses as he moved them to your ear.

“Maybe this is what we’d do on our first date,” he’d whispered.

“Dinner and dancing?”

“Dancing and breakfast,” he corrects.

“Breakfast?”

“The next morning,” he smiles, and you do too, and then he kisses you.

That kiss held a million promises. It made you forget everything that happened before him. That was when you knew you were in love with him. The earth stood still and everything else faded away. The warm circle of light illuminated you both and made the rest of the room seem even darker. Nothing outside that circle mattered. You were the only two people on earth. You existed only for each other.

He must have known it, at that moment, he must have been able to tell. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Your body went limp in his arms and you let every last trace of doubt and fear leave your body, submitting to your desire for him. Submitting to his desire for you. All pretense of dancing was given up and your passionate kisses became deeper. 

He held you tight and slowly began to remove your clothing, calling you baby and whispering adorations to you in the flickering glow of the candlelight. Holding your breasts in his massive hands, he dipped his head to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. He sucked the bud past his teeth and lightly bit down, soothing it with the flat of his tongue while you dragged your nails across his scalp, mewling at his ministrations. 

It wasn’t until he finally got you completely naked that you’d realized he was still fully dressed. You kept trying to touch the front of his pants like you’d done before but he wouldn’t let anything but your pleasure be the focus. He let you grind yourself on him, his hands grabbing your ass, pushing you on his thigh, using his body for friction as you continued to makeout, but he wouldn’t let you give his cock any attention. 

He slowly sunk you both down to the cold linoleum floor and at last began to unbutton his shirt. He shucked his flannel down his arms, leaving his undershirt on, and spread it out on the floor beside you. Using his hands to guide you, he positioned you on your hands and knees overtop his shirt.

You remember the feel of the soft green flannel under your knees, the cold air hitting the wetness that had smeared down your inner thighs, his burning hot hands running down your back to grab and spread your ass, and the gentle kisses he placed all over you. You could barely make out the quiet things he was saying he was going to do to you, it almost felt like he was talking to himself.

I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. Let me taste you, baby.

You had your head turned, watching him, until he bent down and began licking you. You closed your eyes as your face went red-hot with embarrassment that another person was seeing you like this, had his mouth on you there. You’d had boys put their mouth on your pussy before but never like this. Never with your most intimate parts spread wide and on display, a face buried in them and devouring you.

The boys before had laid you on your back and bobbed their head up and down, taking halting, tentative licks. You had waited for it to feel like it was supposed to, watching them fumbling in your folds only to give up mere minutes later, moving along to chase their own pleasure as if what they just did was anything close to what you wanted. Giving you just a glimpse of what it could be but never delivering what you needed, as if the act itself was perfunctory, just a means to an end. This was different. 

Joel wasn’t tentative and he wasn’t fumbling. Joel knew exactly what he was doing, knew right where and how to touch you. Almost immediately your shame turned to pleasure as he lapped at you gently, swollen and extra-sensitive in anticipation as you were. This was what it was supposed to feel like. This is how a man was supposed to touch you. You began to moan and he pulled his face back a little, kissing and nuzzling your ass cheeks while bringing his hands to spread you again.

So fucking beautiful, you are so fucking beautiful here. Look how wet you are for me, baby. Can you feel this? Can you feel it? Do you know how beautiful you are? 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to stop calling you beautiful because the next thing he did was slowly slide two fingers into your gushing hole. The sting of the stretch was eased by the pleasure of the fullness, his thick fingers taking up so much space inside you, pushing on your walls. You felt wetness practically flowing out of you and you thought it must be dripping down his hand. Before you could feel any embarrassment his fingers began to shift out and back in, and you immediately thought about how good his cock would feel filling you up like this, making you moan long and loud.

Yes baby, let me hear you, tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. 

You managed to blabber something about needing him to touch you there, somehow still too shy - despite your current condition – to say the word clit to him. You didn’t have to, he knew what you needed. He pulled his fingers out and you heard him shuffle around and when you worked up the courage to look backwards you saw his knees sticking up behind you. Oh shit. You looked down, underneath you instead. He’d positioned himself laying on his back, face up, directly under your cunt. You had never had anyone do this to you.

Come on baby, sit back. No, shhhh, it’s alright. Just lower yourself down a little, just like that baby. I need to eat this pussy. I need you, please.

He guided you down by your hips until his lips made contact with your core. You were too scared to put your full weight on him so you remained leaned forward a bit on your hands, hovering just above his head with shaking thighs, despite his incessant pulling on your ass downward and moaning into your wet heat. His lips closed around your sensitive bud and you felt him begin to gently suck on it. 

You couldn’t believe he was doing this. You were dizzy with desire. Never in your life had anyone had their mouth on you like this, like they were making out with your cunt. You alternated between feverishly throwing your head back and lowering your chin to your chest to greedily take in the sight of him ravenously eating you. You had never felt such blinding pleasure at the hands of another and you couldn’t stop yourself from wailing in ecstasy. You watched him pull away from you to take deep, gulping breaths, licking his lips of your wetness spread all over the lower half of his face. 

Sit down baby, you can sit on my face. Just relax, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I know what you need, baby. I’m gonna take care of you. You taste so good, so fuckin’ sweet. This pussy was made for me.

You were trying not to sit down on his face, trying not to suffocate him, trying not to think about what a fucking mess he was making of you and you of himself. When he slowly pushed his thick fingers back inside your wet clutch, any and all thoughts left your head completely. He increased the suction of his mouth on your clit and began to flick the tip of his tongue up and down, maintaining a steady tempo of stimulating your clit and fucking you on his fingers.

The pace he set was bringing you closer to your release – for the first time in your life you were able to push everything else out of your mind and focus on your own pleasure. You sat back on your knees a bit more, putting more weight onto him and letting his hands hold you at your hips. You reached between your legs to run your fingers through his hair, wanting to give him a fraction of the intimacy he was giving you. You could hardly believe it. This was how sex was supposed to feel. This is why people liked it so much. This is why it meant so much. You had never felt anything close to this. This was everything. 

Never faltering in his movements, never breaking his rhythm, he carried you higher and higher, finally cresting over your peak. Head thrown back and gripping his hair in your fists, fireworks burst behind your eyes as his name poured out of your mouth. You let him guide your hips in slow, smooth movements across his face, riding out the waves of your climax. 

With muffled groans he continued to eat you through your orgasm, grabbing handfuls of your ass and reaching up to pinch your nipples until his insatiable attention became overwhelming and started to sting, causing you to shrink away from his touch. He pulled back then, gently turned you on your back – still on top of his flannel – and you leaned back on your elbows as he moved back to your cunt, gently lapping up your release. 

You couldn’t believe how good it still felt, his hot tongue gently rasping against your swollen lips, his wet breath panting across your core. He was still moaning into you, the vibrations a pleasant sensation as he licked up everything you could give him. He placed kisses on your inner thighs and over your mound before rising to help you up and get back into your clothes. It wasn’t until the next day that you’d realized Joel must have left your underwear somewhere scattered on the floor and had blushed, hoping that whoever found them later wouldn’t know it was you who’d lost them.

You did so good, baby, that was so good. You were so beautiful. You tasted so good. So good, baby.

You briefly noticed there was a wet stain on the front of his pants but you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you. He locked up and then carried you back to the house that night, your legs were complete jello. You were pretty sure Tess was still up when you got back but you couldn’t think about the state she saw you in, all you could think about was him. He’d put you down on the porch at your insistence but he still had to help you up the stairs to your room. You’d fallen into bed and were asleep within minutes. 

That was the night you knew you were all-in. You gave yourself over to him completely. Even though you didn’t have sex, you knew you would have. You would have done anything for him, let him do anything to you. You would have let him ruin you. You were ready to give up every part of you, and knew you would have sex with him soon, knew that it was inevitable. That was the night you placed your heart into his massive hands and left it with him so that he could mangle it to pieces and leave you a broken person.

But even that’s not a fair assessment, is it? That’s not a correct memory. You were always a broken person. He didn’t cause it and he never could have fixed it. There was something inside you that was irreparable. It was never his job to fulfill your needy fantasies. You can be mad at him for lying to you but you need to face your own part in this. You did this to yourself. You put yourself in this position.

The only solution is to remove yourself from the equation. You don’t belong here, you never did. You probably don’t really belong anywhere. You’re not meant to be with him. He can’t fucking save you. You have to save yourself. You have to find your own way. You have to leave. You have to leave.

You focus on the feel of the delicate, aged paper in your hands, the soft squeaking noises it makes as you push it into your palm, the way you push it back and forth in your hands to get it as small as possible. Then you hold it in between your thumb and forefinger, hold your arm out over the water, and drop it in. You watch as the ball is quickly overtaken by moisture, pulled under the surface, and carried away on the current. 

–

In the dimming light of dusk you can see inside the farmhouse quite well. Lit by lanterns, you see Laurel through the kitchen window, working with Amber to fix dinner as Hank sits in his chair in the living room reading his bible. You turn your head and see the two ranch hands in the far field, herding the goats into their shed for the night. No one is looking for you.

You pick up your backpack from the ground and secure it over your shoulders, walking down the lane for the last time, never to return.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you so so so much to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk, for helping me with this series, even when you're sick and high on cold medicine 🫂You're the fucking A-1 steak sauce.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog

[cultofdixon]

I’ll remind you everyday if I have to

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It’s the smallest of things to startle a person, but thankfully you have someone to always make sure you’re okay • ANGST/SFW • TW: Anxiety Attacks

Requested by: Anon

Anything does it

Loud noises

Yelling

Door slams

Motorcycle engines starting

Walkers trying to claw their way in

Loud snoring if the source is unknown

Honestly, if you made a joke about something breathing and it triggering Y/N’s anxiety…most would think that’s true. She may not be outwardly expressive with her anxiety attacks but one knows she’s having one if she’s disappeared for a period of time.

Her infamous hiding spots are under tables. Carl found her in the closet once when they first arrived to Alexandria and the new people were overwhelming so no one really dared to drag her out. Not that anyone would given Daryl is usually the one to take care of these moments but there were situations where Y/N had to be dragged out of the comfort of hiding.

The farm fire

Governor attack 1

Prison outbreak

Governor attack 2

The Claimers

Terminus

The chapel

The hospital

The barn

Y/N got creative a few times with her hiding spots during the periods where they were moving a lot. But now the group resides in Alexandria and after a few days Y/N left the living room closet sticking with Daryl for the most part since he gives her the most comfort. He didn’t like the place but after all they have been through, after what they have been through, he’s willing to bend slightly so that they could possibly make this place their home.

“Are you coming with to the party?” Rick asks Daryl who seems to have never left the porch whenever he stepped outside finding him always there.

“Nah. Well I don’t know” He frowns keeping his gaze to the floor while he chewed away at his thumb. “Y/N going?”

“Nope. She’s staying in.” Rick states making his way down the steps and more over to Carol’s porch that Daryl stood on. “Judith is coming with me later so Y/N will be alone in the house if yea ever wanna check in on her”

“You make it sound like she had another attack” His worry started to eat at him and with no instant reply back, his own words are only confirming it. “Why didn’t—-“

“Because in some way, you’re also not okay here. Some people need space, others need comfort…Y/N is safe in the house and for once, after all these anxiety attacks I’ve witnessed, she asked for space” Rick gave a small smile to Daryl in the sense of there’s been improvement, but that didn’t stop the worry from brewing inside the archer. “Take the opportunity and if you change your mind about the party? Everybody else will be there”

Daryl watches the retired sheriff walk past as he looks over to his home finding Y/N turned away from the window holding herself. For a second he wanted to go on and check on her, but decided to listen to Rick.

Even if listening to him this time brought an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

The party started when the sunset and Daryl found himself watching from outside. He never felt like he fitted in with these types of crowds. The social people. Those who host parties and make charcuterie boards. It was weird how old world this place was.

When he stepped away and started to make his way back to the house Aaron the one who brought them in, stopped him to talk. This talk lead to being invited for dinner then a good thing to come out of this place…a bike frame. He can feel like his old self and make a new bike after losing the other one to the prison collapse.

But right before he left, Daryl stepped into the kitchen hesitantly but catching Eric’s attention.

“Did you need something?”

“If it’s uh…not too much” Daryl usually never has this much trouble, it’s just. Talking to new people.

Eventually Daryl got the leftovers he asked for after finally getting it out of him along with who it’s for. But when he entered the still very empty house, because of the party, he didn’t find Y/N instantly. She didn’t take a room in the Grimes’s residence, Carol offered a room in hers for her. She was in there last he saw her.

He checked everywhere.

The rooms, the kitchen, the garage, even the small areas in the front and back of the house. It should’ve been more obvious to check Carol’s but even when he looked in her place, she wasn’t instantly found. Which brought his anxiety to be vocal.

“Y/N?” He calls out, not receiving an immediate reply back. “Y/N!” He didn’t mean to shout knowing that would scare her but he was getting to an extreme level that will most likely be taken out on one of Deanna’s sons. They weren’t all that welcoming and he noticed how sad that made his partner.

A few more calls and Daryl eventually stopped in the kitchen to put away the plate in the fridge when he heard the sniffling.

“You didn’t hear me call you back?” Her hushed whisper still made it to Daryl’s ears as he quickly rounds the kitchen island to the dinning table crouching to find her sobbing in her curled position.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry” Daryl frowns bringing himself to sit on the floor and scooting up to her watching her uncurl to wrap her arms around his neck. He gently brought his around her waist pulling her into his lap as she wraps her legs around his torso. “I’m usually better at finding yea but this place is too new…”

“We aren’t used to it” Y/N finished while hiding her face in the crook of his neck for a moment.

Daryl held her for as long as she needed even if that lasted til Carol returned a few hours later. She didn’t say anything, only gave a look to the archer that if they needed anything to just call her, before heading upstairs to sleep.

But after a little while longer of being under the table, the two eventually moved out from under it and Daryl kept Y/N close the rest of the night which led them to the room she claimed. Y/N laid on top of Daryl as he gently grazes his fingers against her back in a soothing motion.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It just…happened” Y/N frowns bringing herself to look at Daryl and his worried expression. “I feel so stupid…”

“You’re not stupid. You’re never stupid for bein’ anxious, sunshine” Daryl gently brushes the hair out of the way of her face watching her sadden expression last. “Sometimes we can’t control how we feel…just be glad yea ain’t quick to anger like some of us”

“You have reasons for your anger. A pen could drop on hard wood flooring and my mind could think someone is breaking in” Y/N laughed at her own problems which Daryl didn’t exactly like but he hasn’t heard her laugh in some time. As she rests her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head holding her a bit tighter.

“You feel safe with me…and our family. Everybody is unsettled in this place and it’ll take time to get used to it. You’re never at fault for your anxiety…I’ll remind yea everyday if I have to”

“Yeah?”

“I promise, sunshine” Daryl kissed her once more, leading her to lift her head and bring herself up so that she could kiss his lips which brought a hum from his chest. “I’ll always keep yea safe, too. From everything”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Y/N smiles bringing her head back to lay on his chest as he held her close with a hint of a smile gracing his features.

“By being you”

[moodywyrm]

moony i have been THINKING about soft dom abby and i think i might explode bc of it. i just know she talks you through it

do you mean ,,, farm hand abby ,,,, because im thinking it ,,, @pinknightsinmymind my brain is being rotted

because farm hand abby is such a soft dom. she knows she's strong and she would never wanna hurt her girl! so she's extra careful during sex.

her grip is always firm but never hard, her hands planted on your hips to pull you back into her. even when she's trying to be so gentle, she sees the bruises she leaves on your hips. she's really sad about them until you tell her how much you like them. then she gets all flustered and needy when she sees them.

speaking of marks, farm abby is a sucker for hickies. she's so gentle with you, leaving them on you when she's trailing down your body, kissing over each mark. while she's still a farmhand, she leaves them in spots only she would have access to, like your inner thighs, your lower tummy, and your tits. she doesn't want her boss – your uncle – to see them, but she can't help but leave pretty little bites on you. you're just too delicious :(

she also loves when you leave marks on her! if you have nails long enough to leave a mark, those scratches are her pride and joy. when she's got you on your back, whining and moaning and soaking her cock, and she feels the sting of your nails on her back? she's going feral, grinding as deep as possible and pushing you over the edge.

soft dom abby my love, she's 100% a praise girl. literally unable to shut up when she's pleasing you. when she's eating you out on the front porch (farmer abby) or behind one of the barns (farmhand abby)? "That's it, you taste so good baby, fucking delicious"

when she's got you pinned under her, taking her strap and pawing at her, eyes rolled back? "look at you fucking taking it, such a good girl f'me, so pretty taking my dick like that"

when you're going down on her, having begged her to let you eat her out after she's been working so hard on the farm? like you're literally on your knees on the front porch, hands gripping her thighs and begging her, until you've got your mouth latched onto her sensitive clit, fingers working against her needy cunt? "sh-shit, feels so good baby - ah - fuck, making me feel so good princess, look so pretty looking up at me like that, gonna make me cum"

soft dom abby when two inherit the farm because your uncle goes to live with your parents, letting y'all take over the business,,,,, omgomgomg

it's like it's your fucking wedding night, she carries you into the house and up to your bedroom, laying you down on the bed and stripping you piece by piece. I wanna write a full thing about this, but it's the most beautiful, gentle, loving sex you've ever had. y'all have been dating for years at this point, but now everything y'all have ever wanted is being realized: y'all have the farm and a house and a stable future together. I'm not kidding when I say she fucks you like it's your wedding night, because it practically is. makes you cum over and over again, letting you recover from each one so you don't get too too overstimulated.

soft dom abby who loves fucking you in the morning. this is absolutely bc I can't stop thinking of the plowing farmhand audio by @jupiter-va,,,,,

abby who sees you come out super early in the morning, hiding something behind your back, and immediately knows you're needy. it's not made any better by the tiny sleep shorts you wear with nothing underneath, and one of her old shirts. it always ends with her bouncing you on her strap, doing all the work while you whine and writhe and paw at her as you two sit on one of the porch chairs.

"darlin', just couldn't help it could ya? didn't I fuck you enough last night? sweet girl just needed to be taken care of, mhm?"

sometimes she's sweet and gentle, but sometimes she just can't control herself. cue her laying you down in the grass and fucking you until you leak all over her strap. or her guiding you down onto your hands and knees before hauling you back onto her cock and laughing at your sweet lil whines, and the hand you use to reach behind and push at her tummy that she just grabs and pins to your lower back before going even harder.

can I just say,,,, soft dom abby with a southern accent ,,,,, drooling. every she says sounds fucking beautiful, and if you're not Southern she Knows her accent has a profound effect on you.

farm abby ,,, her n sevika are taking over my brain,,,, woof

[hotnbloodied]

I know you will probably ignore this but can you try doing Yan farmer x hero reader? (I guess an iskei trip or whatever idk I just wanna know if you could try and build with this idea)

I would never ignore a request, if I couldn't do it I'd let you know! But thank you so much for your request it was very fun to do! I hope that you enjoy~ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Farmer X Isekai'd Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: implied non-con, obsessive personality, controlling behavior, toxic relationships.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

It’s been a month since you found yourself in a world very much like the mmorpg game you used to play back when you were on earth. The first week was extremely rough, in the first three days you were in a frenzy trying to get your wearabouts about you. A couple of knights found you and were actually pretty helpful in guiding you to the church where the nuns made sure you were fed and taken care of. On your calmer day you decided you wanted to try something and called out the menu aloud. You almost jumped when the all too familiar screen popped up in front of you, the only thing missing was the option to ‘quit game’. The next chance that you got you asked one of the nuns how you could go about being an adventurer.

Here you were getting the hang of your class, who knew that combat in real life would be harder than it would be in a game. Monsters were actually terrifying and being in the wild sucked but at least you weren’t relying on other people to get by now.

You might have been getting too comfortable though because while taking on a quest to get rid of some monsters terrorizing some local fields you all but reached your limit, you were tired and wounded but the request was done and you just needed to report back to the guild now but you passed out.

You woke with a jolt. You thought the knights found you and took you to the church again but after looking at your surroundings that didn’t seem to be the case since it looked like a quaint cabin. You also noticed you were bandaged up really well. The door creaked open and in came a person you never saw before. “Oh you’re awake! That’s good.” “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude,” you told them. He shook his head, “It’s the least I can do after you helped clear our fields of monsters.” “Ah, I need to report back to the adventurer’s guild.” “You’re not in any condition to move! You need rest.” “I’m okay, I need to collect my money after all.” “Then, let me come with you.” Seeing no harm in that you allowed him to come with you. “I’m Mikha by the way!” The two of you exchange greetings and names. “Wow so you’ve only been an adventurer for a month? What made you want to be one?” “Change of pace I guess.”

After finishing the business at the adventurer's guild you were about to say your goodbyes with Mikha but he invited you to dinner and you couldn’t pass up free food. Back at his home you helped however you could in the kitchen but since everything was so primitive compared to your original world you were slow in learning. Over dinner you two talked about life, his parents died when he was young and he had to learn to take care of the farm from a young age in order to survive. He talked about how nice it was to have dinner with someone after being alone for so long. “Have you never thought about finding a spouse?” You asked. “I have, it’s just so hard when you have to tend the farm all the time.” The night ended with Mikha insisting that you spend the night there, which you agreed to since it’s better than camping out or spending money at an inn again.

A couple more months went by and you basically made yourself at home with Mikha. Even though he insisted that you paid with your company you still gave him money for his hospitality. All seemed to be going well until you informed Mikha that you were leaving this part of the continent to broaden your horizons of the world. “Mikha, are you okay? You dropped your food.” “I- I’m fine, when are you leaving?” “It’s going to take me a month to prepare so I’m not going any time soon.” “I’m going to miss you…” “I’ll miss you too! I’ll definitely try to write to you when I can.” Mikha lost his appetite, he thought everything was going good between the two of you, he thought he could convince you to stop adventuring someday and the two of you would settle down and start a family together. Was this really how it was going to end? No, he won’t allow it.

Your preparations were coming along and you were getting more and more excited about your journey. You couldn’t help but notice that Mikha seemed to have gotten quieter and just overall seemed to be more on edge. When you asked him what was wrong he’d vehemently tell you nothing was wrong.

Finally, the night before your journey arrived and Mihka had prepared more food than usual as a celebratory feast. You two ate and drank to your heart's content and Mihka even seemed like he was back to his cheerful self. After cleaning up, you went to go get a good night's rest but in the middle of the night you felt something burning in your core. You were extremely turned on and it was to a point where it was near uncomfortable. You squeezed your legs together, you tried to breathe it out and you even tried to relieve yourself but nothing was working. You didn’t even notice the knocking on your door until Mikha walked in to ask what was wrong. “Stay away from me!” You warned him, “I’m not in my right mind!” Mikha didn’t listen and because of that you jumped him and used him to your heart's content.

The next morning you were ashamed of yourself, you saw the marks and bruises you gave him from the night before. You were on your knees, crying and sobbing for forgiveness. He seemed like an angel when he pulled you in for a hug and told you everything is going to be okay but you’d need to take responsibility. You kissed your future dreams goodbye and eventually the two of you married and took care of the farm together. Mikha was just glad that you agreed to take responsibility so easily, but in case you ever tried to leave him, he would tell you about the succubus mark that was implanted on the two of you that night meant that no matter who else you decided to be with your lust wouldn’t have been satisfied by anyone except him.

[maxwell-grant]

hi. you've mentioned Donald Duck a few times in your posts, with scrooge being one step removed from pulp heroes, Donalds Paparinik (Italian superhero identity which I love, the new PK Adventures where lovely) in terms of their relation to the Diabolik line of European superheroes and Donalds general tendency to run head first down slippery slopes. so I'm wondering if you have any further thoughts on his comics and weird place in the superhero/pulp world

Oh God, do I. I mostly wanna talk about the superhero side of things but I feel like it's worth mentioning I grew up with Donald Duck comics, specifically the Carl Barks ones. The picture above wasn't taken by me but I own and recognize like 7 of the books in it, my mom always bought these that collected several of his stories and had these beautiful painting covers so we could read them together, and I still flip through them on occasion and love them very much (I really wanna buy a translated edition of Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck to read with her but those cost a liver). Donald Duck was one of my childhood hyperfixations and I got my hands on all the comics and movies and cartoons I could find with him, and I actually did read several of the Italian comics, I could go down the stationery right now and grab 5. I first stumbled on Paperinik via those, and for long I didn't think much of it, because Donald Duck moonlighting as a superhero for decades isn't the kind of thing that comes up often. I just thought Paperinik was a weird but funny idea for the longest time and always liked rereading a story where he puts on the costume to scare a rich jerk into leaving his granny's farm alone. And THEN I stumbled onto PKNA, Paperinik New Adventures, and oh my god this rules so much.

Actually one of the best superhero comics I've ever read, it's just constantly and consistently doing these wild absurd stories and swings into genre territory and quality storytelling. It's famous for opening it's first issue with aliens genociding an entire planet and I thought that was kinda overselled, and it's not frequently this dark (sometimes it actually gets darker though, and I probably stopped before it could really get there), but it is a very weird comic. It's more akin to Fantastic Four's serialized consistency than any kind of graphic novel prestige storyline but it is frequently so good at what it does, even the lamer issues are still worth reading. I like describing it as Donald Duck falling headfirst into Batman-level resources, forced to deal with Superman problems (on both the "huge sci-fi horrors" and "people being really, really irresponsible dicks" ends), while trying to stay Ditko's Spider-Man and failing. These do not feel quite like any Donald Duck comics I'd read before and while they would hold up with a different character, I do think they deserve credit for how they make it still always feel like you're reading a Donald Duck story, if a slightly different one. In fact I'd even say PKNA actually makes the concept feel more suited for Donald Duck in a way that brought the idea full circle.

To those of you that don't know, Paperinik started as a villain, or more of a revenge fantasy. By that point there was a tradition of doing a lot of parody stories with Donald that started in 1953. By the late 60s, readers were dissatisfied with Donald Duck always constantly being mistreated by the rest of the supporting cast and losing unfairly, so it was decided to have one of those parodies feature Donald Duck as uncovering the fortune and resources of "Fantomius" and becoming a masked rogue able to get back at them by achieving the impossible, in that he both steals from Scrooge and defeats Gladstone's luck by framing him for it.

He had a stint as a master thief until it was decided it made him too mean, so he morphed into a superhero trying to overcome his prior bad reputation and using his new skills and gadgets (still prone to malfunctioning) to deal with his typical rogues and new ones, and having the admiration of his nephews who don't know that Unca Donald and Paperinik are the same. PKNA, in turn, was sort of a reboot, shedding the previous history and pretty much getting rid of Donald's traditional supporting cast and having Donald stumble onto a different set of resources and means to fight crime, but keeping the idea of Donald Duck having a superhero alter-ego that nobody suspects. The scale and menace of the threats he's up against DRASTICALLY increases, and if anything that fact is crucial to what allows these to still feel like Donald Duck stories, even with Paperinik being a genuinely impressive and cool hero able to save the world. Nobody believes Donald Duck could be a cool and impressive person if he tried, and so Paperinik becomes not just a power fantasy, or a call to something better or be someone better, but it becomes a key component of Donald Duck stories: a thankless job he's expected to do that he doesn't want to do until his pride or something crucial is on the line. These are still parables about human failures and what can be learned from them.

I'd even say a big part of why they succeed is because they introduce a character who can pick up Donald's slack as a comically unpleasant ill-tempered grouch in need of a lesson protagonist in Angus Fangus, a character who's sort of J Jonah Jameson meets Harvey Bullock. Angus has it out for Paperinik and gets up to a lot of the antics you would traditionally expect Donald to be doing if this was a classic Donald Duck comic (and even has a Gladstone-esque rival of his own in another reporter), and getting to learn lessons and be humbled and even have his own set of impressive moments. The choice to give an entirely new cast around Donald greatly added to the comic's ability to experiment and do new things while still keeping the core of Donald.

I actually like a lot of these new dynamics better than the ones he traditionally has, I love The Raider and Lyla and One and oh god Xadhoom, Xadhoom is so fucking cool, such a cool design and name, this powerful roaring supernova stickbug alien person in a crusade of murderous vengeance who names herself her language's equivalent of creditor because the death of her entire planet is the DEBT SHE WILL COLLECT IN BLOOD ENERGY and she is just the most 90s anti-hero ever made except she's stuck in a Donald Duck comic getting into comedic situations and learning to laugh and feel emotions and learn from her mistakes again whether she likes it or not. These two are so good together.

Even with a superhero lair and supercomputer and gadgetry handed to him, Donald Duck is so comically outmatched against his opponents he still winds up winning through guile and will and comedic trickery. Donald desperately wishes he could go on self-serving ventures or just sit at home and enjoy tv, and not get dragged into dealing with murderous alien invasions, or cyberpunk revenge stories, or collapsing future timelines, and still having to solve those problems so there's a world to come back. The stories are frequently fun and they are prevailingly comedic and very good at it too, but they also get a lot out of taking weird turns into unexpected territory.

I haven't finished it because I wasn't able to find it in full or keep track of what's the og series and what's the reboot, still trying to sort that out, but god what a find this series is. What a great strange turn in the history of this great strange character.

[pizzagame4000]

NOISETTE THEMED DOODLE DUMP ft. cheesecake and the spouses

copious hazel headcanons under the cut because i can’t help myself

first off: her name is Hazel 👍🏻 ik that’s a common one but it’s literally perfect… canon info to me

her favorite thing to do, besides making experimental food, is actually exercising! she’s an incredibly skilled acrobat and stunt artist, so she needs to be fit for that, but she also just enjoys letting the excess energy out bc she gets really cranky otherwise. she’s toned af and could wipe the floor with you - she doesn’t go around picking fights for no good reason, but if she did… heehee

she has such an unending well of passion for all of her interests that some find her to be too much but she dgaf… she’s unabashedly autistic and does NOT care if you don’t want to hear her infodump about obscure cheeseslime genetics, she will do it anyways

i like to think that, although she is very bubbly, she has an insane morbid streak that catches people off guard. she loves talking about anatomy and gross-out subjects to anyone who can stomach it, and cracks the most fucked up jokes - it’s one of the reasons her and noise get along so well. she is thinking about blood and guts because she thinks it’s interesting!!!! she will give you hyperspecific graphic threats of violence if you make her mad!!! teehee!!

i would put her at like… chaotic neutral but leaning towards good. she has an almost scientific fascination with violence and seeing what kinds of stress a body can take, and doesn’t mind watching shit unfold instead of helping… unless something actually super fucked up is going on (like way past canon typical pizza tower violence), she’s not going to bat for you lol she’s gonna grab a camera and clipboard

her interest in anatomy branches out into a love for biology, medicine and health in general - as much as she loves watching her boyfriend beat the shit out of some chump on live tv, she also loves studying how different creatures work and how to treat injuries. she almost became a doctor! but she didn’t like the rigid schedule and pressure, so she fostered her interest in dance and gymnastics, and went into television as a stunt double instead. that’s actually how she met noise! that’s why they look so much alike - she was told to inquire NTV for a job because of the resemblance. noise thought she was so cool she was asked to be his co-star instead, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

sometimes she gets tired of the noisette persona, but she does genuinely like theo, so it’s hard. she’s been more busy with this NTV gig (that’s looking more like a full blown career) than she would like, so that’s why she opened her cafe - to do something else for once dammit!! she likes weird shit, food included!!!

i have two shipping scenarios i like, so consider these parallel universes - hazel x vigi, and hazel x vigi x noise

if you don’t like negative takes on the noise relationship i’d recommend skipping to 2 ^_^

1. her relationship with noise deteriorates bc noise can’t accept the fact that hazel doesn’t wanna be noisette all the time! they’re so busy, he barely even makes time for her anymore - he barely even tolerates her! it’s not until vigi comes into the picture that she realizes she doesn’t have to deal w that mess. but it sucks cuz noise isn’t just her bf, but also like!!! a big part of her career!!! and she does genuinely love him but he’s just!!! an uncommunicative ass!!! it culminates in hazel leaving him and crashing at vigi’s farm because fuck it, it’s her life she does what she wants. she will kiss the cheese AND rebuild her tv career, on her own terms this time baybee

2. noise and hazel still have that issue but they actually communicate like adults and fix their relationship problems, so none of that shit happens! happy ending! hazel has her own life and theo actually lets his gf know he loves her! woah! enter vigi, in: “we saw you across the bar and we really dig your vibe…” imagining vigi as a third to hazel and theo, completely out of his depth but too bisexual to care, is SO funny to me lol… like hazel and him are probably the only two together at first but over time he and theo warm up to each other more (gay intent) and it’s perfect

[stardewstardropthoughts]

ahh imagine the bachelors when you’re pregnant talking to your belly to get the baby to calm down at night. like the baby likes to keep you awake at night by kicking you directly in the ribs and the only thing that works is your husbands voice.

I think shane would feel super awkward at first since hes not much of a talker anyway, but it becomes a cherished nightly routine for him in the last few weeks of your pregnancy “hello, papa shane reporting for duty, its time to chill out so your mother can get some sleep” and tell it chicken stories, elliott would read poetry and shakesphere, Alex would probably talk sports to it.

I would LOVE to hear your headcanons

Deadass sleeping while pregnant is so hard, and when the tiny child your growing rolls they’re whole body while your trying to sleep? It feels so weird 😂 also listen I know Skyrim isn’t in Stardew but I love it and I know Sebastian would also, lemme have this lmao

The bachelors talking to your baby bump to calm down your unborn child so you can sleep

Harvey:

Probably a bit nervous at first because he isn’t sure what to say

But when your having issues sleeping because your unborn child keeps kicking you as hard as they can he agrees to give it a shot

Gently lays his head on your bump

“Hey there little one, your moms out here trying her best to grow you and she needs to sleep to do that, think you might be able to settle down a bit?”

Is surprised when his voice seems to calm the unborn child down

Very quickly becomes his favorite part of the nightly routine

“Well hello in there tiny one, thank you for tuning into the nightly talk show. Today we’re gonna learn about you! That’s right, tonight’s broadcast is all about your growth”

Your giggling at his little radio show impersonation

Alex:

Ya know those TikTok videos of people doing little handshakes with their wife’s pregnant bellies and then when the baby’s born? He’s doing that, just wanted to add in that tid bit lol

He probably noticed you were having issues sleeping and he could see all the wild movements from the outside

Leans down and starts talking to the bump

“Hey kiddo, I know your doing your own thing in there but momma needs to sleep, whatcha need?”

When you tell him the baby calmed down after hearing his voice he’s thrilled

Will 100% explain the rules of gridby in depth to your unborn child

“Okay so if you wanna grow up big and strong like your daddy, your gonna have to have proper nutrition, lucky for you I have years experience”

Spends almost every night at bedtime telling your unborn child all about the farm and gridby and of-course rusty the dog

Sam:

Mans been talking to your baby way before they could hear or acknowledge him

He’s just so excited

“Hey little guy, mommy’s trying to sleep so we gotta calm down, I know you wanna shred but once your out I’ll teach ya to skateboard”

Definitely goes over skateboarding safety with your unborn child

“Sam he’s not even born yet”

“Okay but he’s gotta know how to grind the pipe baby, it’s a great skill”

100% also going to blow a raspberry on your bump to startle the baby cause it’s funny

Shane:

Dude definitely chats with your baby bump all the time

Especially when your cuddling so mostly at night when y’all are going to bed

Probably the reason the infant can’t stop kicking you without hearing from daddy first

“Hey kiddo, you’ll never guess what kinda antics the chickens got up to today, I can’t wait to introduce you to Charlie”

Definitely brought Charlie in the house once and put him on your bump

“Hey kiddo, this is Charlie, he’s my favorite chicken but don’t tell the others that”

You gently pat Charlie’s head while he looks very confused about the situati

Sebastian:

Mans fully prepared to teach your kid all about video games when Theyer old enough

But when they won’t stop kicking you at night unless he talks to them? Now they get to learn early

“So in Skyrim right? There’s a whole character builder and you get to pick what race you want to be, I always go for dark elf personally but you can be whatever you want”

It’s like two hours later, your asleep and he’s still going

“So when you get to white run you have to find the jarl and tell him about the dragons attacking helgen so he’ll send troops to riverwood and then there’s a whole side mission to go on to get the dragon stone and-“

Notices your soft snoring and chuckles to himself silently

“Okay kiddo, we’ll pick this up again tomorrow night, good night my little tadpole, love you”

Presses a little kiss to your bump before going to sleep

Elliott:

This mans been reading poems and story’s to your bump since he learned that baby’s can hear and recognize voices

It’s a nice little nightly routine, after baths and pjs and whatever snack your craving you both settle in and he grabs a book

Tonight’s book selection is the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe

“Alright little one, it’s story time”

Cozy’s up with his head on your bump

“Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore”

Loves knowing he can sooth the baby even before They’re born yet

Also loves knowing he can provide a bit more comfort to you as you grow them

[auricgold0]

Wanna talk about the fact that even though the dsmp has a lot of story to it, to me it still feels very…stale? Empty because if you know the plot points you don’t need to know much more and I think the problem is, is that no one realises you can literally just expand on the world if you want. It doesn’t have to only consist of those 30 players, give it life, people who we see momentary but still give some warmth to the story. People who give us more insight to how a character would treat someone they don’t have history with.

And the fact we can work with magic in our stories, it’s literally canon. think of all the Minecraft mechanics and go haywire with it, twist and turn them to be more creative. Even if it’s just a little moment.

My brain is obsessed with the idea of c!Quackity leaving his car on a sunny evening, citizens rushing about some walking with fitted suits a mind at work and some loitering around the office building. Visiting his favourite dinner after work, not his own but one ran by a small but warm family who treat him as their own. Sometimes he walks home, taking the more denser part of the city to visit the local markets, check in on the woman who kisses his forehead and scolds him for being out so late as if he was her child. C!tommy and C!Tubbo stumbling into farmers land and being rushed off. C!Tubbo asking mechanics for scrap to work on his projects. C!Tommy annoying a school teacher late so he can borrow her art supplies. Him climbing walls of more fancy estates, being offered help with his farm by an old lady. Young children aweing at the main server, people brought there for school trips. Whispers aimed toward C!Wilbur if he’s recognised, him messing with waiters,stealing uniform to blend in. You’ve got high stress scenes where he’s trying to not get caught rushing down the halls though the employees have been alerted of him. Him employing a random guy for a good second, whispering his plan while the dude mindlessly agrees because he doesn’t wanna be late for his mother’s dinner.C!Niki walking through a market area, polite greetings as she passes through her city. THERES SO MUCH YOU CAN JUST WRITE!!!

It’s not even the fact I find the relationships in the dsmp boring but the small random relationships/interactions can push a story forward, make it more fun to write.

I think dsmp writers forget that you can keep it canon compliant but still have fun with it. It’s Minecraft, minecraft roleplay- just have fun with it.

(I say this but won’t write shit🤩)