#that goddamn farm boy. he got me.

[guttersniper]

@quantumleapt​ said: [ clean ] Al being an Italian grandparent and wiping a smudge off of Mutt's cheek...

nonsexual acts.

when he turns, the furrow in his brow is so much an echo of sam, some stranger might think they really were of shared blood. he’s always been like that. picking up every little thing he notices about the people around them, many times without even fully realizing it. 

the quick upward jerk of his chin works as a replacement for words in acknowledgement of hearing his name, a sort of silent go on. al doesn’t look like he’s up to anything (mutt’s learned the signs), nor does he seem to be upset or hurt or uncomfortable (he’s learned those, too). he’s seconds away from opening his mouth to prompt him, maybe he forgot what he was going to say, but he swallows that when he notices al’s looking at him odd. 

instead: “ -- got something on my face? “ as a matter of fact, he does. a vague sniff, and a hand rose to scratch at the dirt-laden spot on his cheek. he goes entirely still when al approaches, and doesn’t even move a muscle -- it seems he’s even stopped breathing -- when he sees him lick his thumb, and put his unused hand on his shoulder to hold him steady. he stares, unblinking, following the finger as if he were in a doctor’s office and being asked to.

“ christ. “ mutt grunts, squirming away from the impromptu washcloth made of spit and the pad of his thumb. something adjacent to a smile kicks up one corner of his mouth. “ you’re gross. “ it’s teasing, and anybody who knows mutt and the things he’s been through knows not much manages to gross him out. he tugs the too-long length of his sleeve over his fingers, and rubs at the spot until he’s certain he got the worst of it. he never thought he’d one day spend more time properly clean than dirty, but. here he was. “ there. better? “

[itsgrimeytime]

he's such a pretty liar || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz @deadgirlrin

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: 8 + 2

Inspiration: my boy by Billie Eilish

Summary: You and Rick had gotten along at some point, at the farm and prison. You were friends even. Until the Governor killed Hershel, which you believed to be perfectly preventable. Because of his inaction then, you'd gotten a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought of him and eventually, he started to reciprocate the behavior. But as time passes, and you experience more and more with him, is it really hate that you feel?

TWs: enemies to lovers (like fr though), yelling, mentions of death (Shane, Lori, Beth, and Hershel), mention of the Claimers scene, cursing, anger, nosebleed, bruising, love confessions, injuries, blood, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: This is based on Carl being mad at Rick after the prison. Rick do be stressed out, and he do be saying some terrible stuff, but like so are you. This gif is so 🫣💞🤭💞🤪. Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

You weren't a bad person, and in that regard, you wouldn't say Rick was either. Honestly, you respected him as a leader -you just didn't agree with all his choices. That's where it all started, after all, isn't it?

You'd seen what a wrong choice could do, you'd watched Hershel die right in front of your eyes. You'd seen it all.

And, sure, maybe you were grieving a little but you still largely disagreed with Rick's actions on the matter. It was preventable.

It started there, and only really got worse. It was like once you identified one flaw, suddenly you were second-guessing his every move. The two of you couldn't be in a room without arguing, couldn't be put on shifts together, nothing. Daryl, for one, wouldn't let you be alone together at all. And if it wasn't him, it was someone else.

"Rick, seriously," you spoke once, almost sternly, "-that can't be your decision."

"Why?" he responded -pointed and short, "-Ya got a better idea? Go right fuckin' ahead."

You knew that since the prison, Rick had been strung thin. You knew that he had been harder on himself than you could ever be about Hershel. But, you still were angry. Sometimes, sometimes it felt like maybe he was just a target for everything that you'd been through. And you were trying to change your behavior, change your ways.

You'd known him for so long, and you were going to be stuck with him. The group, even though the two of you weren't on the best terms, was like family to you.

And then, it started getting personal.

This argument stemmed from something small, trivial, you can't even remember it now. Maybe a decision on a run? You can't-

"Ya act like ya ain't made mistakes of your own," he added, "-all high and damn mighty-"

"When did I say that?" You interrupted, more cold than anything, "-You're putting words in my mouth, Grimes."

"-Because I seem to remember ya tellin' me about your family," he continued, not even pausing to listen to you.

You stilled in place.

"Rick," you warned (voice slightly shaking), "-don't... don't go there."

Your family. At the beginning of all this, you'd froze -scared. Watched one of them get bitten, and then everyone just followed after -not willing to grieve. You regretted not being quicker, not being more aware, but you weren't used to it. You weren't-

"Ya fucked up," Rick continued, as if he wasn't bringing up what he was, "-We all do, why do you-"

"No, no," you shook your head, voice shaking, "-Rick, that is not fair. You can't bring up my family-"

You had hated yourself for that, hated yourself. Still did. You would never forgive yourself for not saving them, even though you really didn't have an idea how to then, you should have-

God, he was bringing this up? Really?

"-over a goddamn run strategy."

"Well, you pick apart every damn thing I do," he retorted, "-'Thought I'd do the same for once."

"Oh, fuck you, Rick," you seethed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-you want me to poke at your wounds? Talk about who you could've saved?"

He pursed his lips, and you saw something flash through his eyes (they were trailing the now shake of your hands) that looked a little like regret. Like maybe he was understanding what he said. You felt like your skin was on fire.

"Do you want me to start from the beginning?" You tsked, a fire burning in your chest, "-Shane? Or maybe Lori? Beth? Hershel-"

"Stop," he stated, quieter than before.

"-Why, Rick?" you hissed, and you felt the tears now, "-Is this not what we're talking about? Oh, do you not want me to bring that up? Over a run?"

"I get it," he spoke, softer, and something in you sharpened, "-I get it, Y/N."

"Do you?" you responded, frustrated and just... angry, "-Do you, Rick?"

"I shouldn't 'ave-"

"Can it," you interrupted -short, "-Let's just get the fucking supplies and go."

Rick frowned, blue eyes far more emotive (all you could see was regret and pity), "Y/N, I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" You countered, and your voice was cracking, "-You didn't mean to bring up the fact that I watched my family die, right in front of me? Do you think that I don't hate myself every day for not doing anything then?"

Rick didn't say a word.

"-Hate to break it to you, sheriff, but I fucking do."

"Y/N..." he trailed off, blue eyes much calmer, the rage from before dissipating out of his voice.

"No, just-" you cleared your throat, wiping mindlessly at your frustratingly red eyes, "-Let's get this shit done and leave."

From then on, it had been much deeper.

You couldn't stand him, you hadn't been alone with him since. He made your skin crawl and your mind flare up in anger, and sometimes, just sometimes, it would shake your respect for him. Because you did have some, you probably wouldn't even be here, if you didn't.

The funny thing about it all was that you were close to Carl, very close to him. At the prison, after Lori's death, you'd nearly been inseparable. It was kind of like a parent relationship, but at the same time a little like a friend. It made you want to reconcile sometimes, but all you and Rick did was clash.

So much that you started to wonder what a normal conversation was like with him.

And then, you had the run-in with the Claimers.

God, what they'd threatened to do to Carl? You personally would've snapped their spine yourself if you had the chance. But what Rick had done? You couldn't imagine it yourself.

But you knew that he did what he had to. And some part of you wanted to tell him that, despite... despite all of your problems, you knew he needed it.

It was late that night when you decided to talk to him. It was just the two of you awake. You, on purpose, and you just knew Rick would be. Doing that was probably still rattling through his skull, he probably couldn't even close his eyes without-

Your steps were slow and careful, trying not to startle him -he just seemed to be staring. Endlessly staring, and just pacing. Despite it all, you felt something in your chest swirl with worry.

"Rick?" you spoke, gently. Even still, you saw his whole body tense up.

"Please," he muttered, voice low and gravelly -blue eyes heavy on you, "-I don't need your shit right now. I kno' 'at I did somethin' bad, really damn bad. But I just can't deal wit' ya-"

"No, Rick," you interrupted, "-that's not why I'm... That's not what I want to say."

"What do ya want to say, then?"

"You made the right decision," you responded, tone sturdy and unmoving, "-you... you did what you had to."

Rick stilled, something flickering through his face -a flutter of emotions.

"I know, we aren't on the best terms, but-" you rolled your lip around your teeth, "-you're not a monster, Rick."

The silence was loud then, as his blue eyes skimmed over you -carefully. Maybe like he was seeing a new you, or maybe an old one he'd forgotten about. One you'd forgotten about.

"Trust me, I know it feels like it," you added (mind flashing with what you'd done over the years), "-but you did what you had to. You saved your son, and that's all that matters."

He didn't say anything for a moment, trying to process your words. And if you really looked, you might've seen his eyes fogging up a little and the slight drop of tension in his shoulders. A little like he was waiting for someone to tell him that.

And then, he replied, "Thank ya."

You pursed your lips a moment, fidgeting with your hands. You weren't sure what else to say. This was all so new. With a succinct nod, you moved to spin on your heel and lay down for the night.

"Wait," he called, and you turned back to him -eyes inquisitive.

There was a beat.

"-'At day, on the run," he continued, slow and regretful, "-I'm... I'm sorry. I never should 'ave said somethin' like 'at. I never should 'ave brought it up at all. 'Wasn't right of me to."

"Thanks, Rick," you responded, brief but genuine, grateful. You could tell he understood.

Before you could fully turn around though, he added -softer, with something you couldn't quite name, "Goodnight, Y/N."

There was a pleasant hum in your mind at the way he said your name, but you shoved it away. You'd locked all of that far away, a long time ago.

"Night, Grimes," you chimed back, lighter in tone.

He smiled at you then, and something in you gleamed a little from it. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

There was something different after that, a sort of trust or respect. Or maybe something else, you didn't really know. It was there, though.

When you found Alexandria, things shifted a little. Mostly because it was your group against another one, you and Rick were profoundly on the same side. That being said, you still clashed. You weren't sure if it was just the authority of it all, or what? (It might've had a little to do with a blonde wife that he was spending some time with, but you'd never say that out loud.)

"You're seriously not going to let me lead the run?"

"I got Daryl on it," he responded, eyes solely sat on you.

"He's been on all the runs lately," you continued, trying to explain your case, "-Shouldn't this shit be evenly distributed? Have you even talked to Daryl about what he wants? Or are you just assigning us like it's some dictatorship-"

"'Course I damn talked to 'im," he snapped back, and you could see something tired in his eyes, "-everybody gets a say in what 'ey're doin', ya know 'at."

"Except for me," you contradicted, "-you keep giving me the same fucking chores, when I'm useful in other places-"

And he was, he kept you in Alexandria -washing clothes, making dinner, keeping an eye on the people. He made you some kind of mediator between Deanna's people and your own. But you were useful, you shouldn't be locked inside like you couldn't handle yourself. Because you could, and you had before.

"-You know, I scavenged for months before I met you, right? I was alone, and I figured it out."

"I know 'at," he confirmed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could nearly see the stress radiating off him, but you couldn't stop, not then.

"So, so what-" you asked, "-you don't trust me? You don't think I can do it?"

Rick sighed, big and loud -fully facing you, "It ain't 'at, Y/N. I know ya can handle yourself, I've seen it."

"Then, what is the problem, Grimes? I don't get it-"

"Just take the goddamn next run," he groaned, something in his tone broken (and something a little like guilt curled up in your stomach), "-I'll tell Daryl he's switchin'."

You stopped in place, words faltering off your lips. Your will and the fire in your gut extinguished, you suddenly felt very out of place, and a little like the bad guy. You knew you weren't though, but he just looked so tired-

"Okay," you finally responded, a little dumbfounded, "-thanks."

He nodded in your direction and didn't say a word. You took it as a motion to move along, so you did.

Apparently, he might've had a good reason to worry.

It wasn't that first run, or even the second or third, it was the fourth after that conversation that you were stupid. Well, it really wasn't your fault. You thought someone had your back, and they didn't; so, one of the walkers had clawed pretty deep into your arm.

It was bleeding a lot (maybe too much) and probably needed stitches, but you didn't worry about it. Denise could handle it, and you, as a community, were pretty good on medical supplies at this point.

What you didn't expect, was after Denise patched you up for one Rick Grimes to be on your ass.

You were still sitting in her doctor's space (you had no idea what to call it) then, silently trailing your fingers over the bandaging. You could already see some of the blood through the white of it. It made you a little nervous, you won't lie.

And then, the door swung open.

At first, you nearly grabbed for the knife you hid on you -alarmed, assuming it was someone coming to hurt you. Instead, you were met with one Rick Grimes -his face was all scrunched up in that way he always got when he was frustrated.

If there was one thing you could recognize, it was that.

"Rick?" you questioned -carefully, a little shocked by him bursting into the room. Did you do something to him recently?

"'At's why ya can't go on fuckin' runs," he grumbled out -suddenly so angry, it made your head spin.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What?"

"You're always makin' damn bad decisions," he continued, and something in you bristled. Your defenses were up in an instant.

"What the fuck, Rick?" you countered, "-You don't even know what happened, how the hell do you know it's on me?"

"You're injured," he clarified, a little like he was talking to himself, "-ya made a stupid mistake-"

"How the hell do you know that?" you hissed, "-Do you just think everything that goes wrong has to be my fucking fault, Grimes?"

"-and you're damn hurt."

There was something there in his tone, something different. Your frustration twisted into a little bit of curiosity. What was that?

"I can’t leave ya alone for one second without ya hurting yourself, can I?" He started up again, and it was there again, angry but also... but also-

Your eyes swam over him, and you recognized it then, worry. He was worried about you, you felt something in you stall. It was so different from what you knew from him-

"I mean," you responded, a little awkwardly -unsure (since when did he care so much?), "-I’m fine so it’s okay-"

"No, it’s not okay," he suddenly shot his eyes to you, blue eyes heavy with worry (so much, it shot to your core), "-Not when I feel like I’m goin' to go batshit fuckin' crazy, thinkin' you’ve hurt yourself."

It was silent for a moment, as your mind processed the words. Skimming along his face, as he seemed to do the same -frustration dissipating along his features.

That... That was new.

"It's just some scratches," you spoke -a little lost, you weren't sure exactly what to say. He cared about you that much? Thought about you that much?

Rick's eyes darted to the bandages, which were just about as dark as before -which was just a little, the stitches seemed to stop it mostly. Something in him relaxed, you could tell in his shoulders -the drop of the tension. You couldn't believe that was because of you. When-

"Ya had to get stitches, yeah?" He spoke, suddenly and a bit awkwardly too (like he wasn't sure what to do).

"I did," you confirmed, just looking and something in you felt like you needed to tell him more, so you did, "-Uh, five in one, and three in the other."

He pursed his lips (like he was debating something), before shattering out a breath, "Can I see it?"

"It's already wrapped up," you responded, blankly -you were running a little on autopilot, "-She already-"

"Denise can rewrap it," he offered, stepping closer. Something in your stomach stirred.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You want to waste medical supplies, just so you can see my wound?"

Rick's lips pressed into a thin line, something in him firing back up, "I'll replace the supplies my damn self, if I 'ave to, just let me see."

You couldn't really say anything, it felt like all the words had washed from your head. Like you couldn't speak if your life was on the line.

He faltered a second, sighing, and his eyes shifted to something softer (a little like pleading), "I... I need to see if ya are alright."

You felt like you were stone -frozen.

"Please."

Your heart lept into your throat (and you let your mind drift somewhere you'd never let it before), "Yeah, okay."

That started the shift.

And he started checking over you after every run, you thought it would've been annoying but... you got used to it. And something in you liked helping him calm down, although you'd never say it out loud.

Things were a little different. You clashed but it wasn't as fiery anymore. Because you knew he cared about you, and somewhere you could acknowledge you cared about him. (More than you'd ever admit.)

This time it wasn't even Rick you were arguing with. It was someone originally from Alexandria. You couldn't even remember their name, but they'd said something about you and you let it slide. But then, they kept going.

"You made a shit call," the guy remarked, sauntering up to your side.

You were a little startled, but you stayed composed, "What are you talking about?"

"We could've gotten more supplies," he continued, "-that gun store was right there, and you called the whole fucking thing off."

You soured -something steeling in your gut, "You mean the one that was swarmed? Hate to break it to you, but we were outnumbered."

"We could've done it," he added -persistent, something frustrated in his tone, "-we had the manpower."

"Are you serious?" you laughed a little incredulously, "-There were three of us, and about 30, 40 maybe, walkers. That is-"

"Maybe you couldn't have done it," he tsked, lips falling in a flat line.

You flexed your jaw, trying to stay composed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a sorry fucking excuse for a lead," he gritted through his teeth, "-You don't know shit about-"

"Next time, just go right ahead and do it yourself then," you shot back but stayed still in your space (composed, composed, composed), "-and I don't know about you, but I value life more than something we already fucking have-"

"It's ammunition," he seethed, stepping much closer to you -something sparking behind his eyes, "-Don't know if you fucking know this, but it's pretty damn important to survival-"

"No," you disagreed, voice calm and collected, "-it's not. You don't need to walk into a situation that you can't handle-"

Without warning, a fist flew at your face -right at the nose.

"Shit," you hissed, and you felt the thrum of pain under your skin and could almost immediately taste the coppery taste of blood, "-What the fuck? Why did you-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?"

It was Rick, and his tone was something you'd only heard a few times -blue eyes flickering over you. They held onto your, now bleeding, nose which you were now trying to soothe, and something in his jaw tightened.

The guy was the first one to speak, mostly because you were trying to stop the bleeding. Luckily, Maggie rushed up to your side with paper towels -doing her best to help too.

"They made a mistake on the run-"

Rick didn't let him get far, "So, you punched 'em in the damn face?"

"Well," the guy fell quieter, "-we were arguing-"

Maggie snapped back, shifting her focus for a moment, "You were arguin'."

"No-"

"They were just trying to talk some sense into ya," she continued, tone cold, "-You were the one who took it personally-"

Rick put a hand on her shoulder, eyes flickering toward you -something swimming through them that you recognized from a different day, and Maggie took the notion to stop talking. She turned back to you, and gently guided you to tilt your head forward. On instinct, you pinched your nostrils shut -breathing out of your mouth.

"Even if it was a fuckin' argument," Rick tsked, something cold in his tone, "-there's no damn reason to do 'at. They weren't gettin' violent with ya-"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I kno' 'em," he retorted, "-an' if 'ey got their hands on ya, you wouldn't be standin' in front of me."

You laughed a little and could feel his eyes shoot to you for a second. It made something in your chest flutter, something you were trying desperately to ignore.

"We need to get ya some ice," Maggie spoke, mostly to herself, "-It's already bruisin' up pretty bad."

"'S leave 'is for another day," Rick seemed to exit the conversation with the man, tone unshakable, "-but if I 'ear anythin' else from ya, 'ere's gonna be a problem. Ya got 'at?"

You could almost visually see the way Rick shifted as he made his way over to you. Composure slipping into something more worried, eyebrows furrowing and eyes shining in an entirely different way. Like he couldn't help it, his hands frantically found themselves along your shoulders. It made your skin buzz a little, and made you feel a little woozy. Well, you guessed there could be more than one reason for that.

On that note, you stumbled in place a little, and Rick's hands immediately slid to your sides -stabilizing you. Your heart skipped a beat, stupid fucking handsome men with big fucking hands.

"'Ey, can ya bring a chair over 'ere, please?"

Before you could so much as blink, he was pushing you into it -gently, mind you. Ever-so-gently. And almost on instinct, he fell onto one knee in front of you, trying to hold your eye contact with your head slightly forward, you guessed. His eyes were the same as that day, but there was something else there too, something fuzzier.

"Maggie, ya go get the ice," he turned to her, "-I'll stay with 'em."

She seemed to scamper off because you could tell it was just the two of you. Maybe he'd warded off everyone else, Rick had this... aura to him when he wanted to -a dangerous one. Sometimes you thought it was to balance out his natural nature as a leader.

Quietly, you heard Rick tear off another paper towel and gently wipe at your mouth (where you imagined blood was staining at this point). It was strangely intimate, as you just skimmed over his face.

He was entirely focused on the task, so your eyes roamed along the creases along his face, the blue of his eyes, the sharp line of his nose, the little curls that peeked behind his ears-

You blinked, clearing your thoughts. He was always handsome, you knew that.

"What even is that dick's name?" you questioned, testing to see if your nose had stopped bleeding as much. It had.

Rick smiled a little, looking up at your eyes from where he was focused before (he seemed to be done), "I 'ave no fuckin' clue."

You laughed at that, and if you were honest with yourself thought you saw something shoot through his eyes. Something warm. You ignored it.

"'S hurt?" he spoke, softer.

You responded, simply, "I've had worse."

Rick smiled a little at that, but fell into something more serious, "So, yeah?"

"Like a bitch," you admitted, and he let out a low sort of chuckle.

It made something in you relax, something warm lighting up in your chest. You let yourself feel it this time, just once.

"Just so ya know," he interrupted your thought process, "-'at ain't happenin' again."

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows -warmth dissipating, "Are you- Are you chastising me right now?"

"No," he quickly responded, but didn't explain further, "-'M just tellin' ya I ain't lettin' it happen again."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Rick paused a second, ripping another paper towel off and dabbing at your nose. It was probably still bleeding a little bit.

You just watched him, waiting for an explanation. Even though, you weren't entirely sure he was going to give you one.

"Anyone touches ya, says anythin' to ya, so much as looks at ya the wrong way-" he listed, tone deadly serious (it shook through your skull), "-ya come get me, and I’ll set 'em straight. Understand?"

Your mouth moved before you could stop it, "What?"

"I'll handle it," he repeated, pulling away the paper towel and locking eyes with yours, "-It ain't happenin' again."

"Rick," you laughed -incredulously, and maybe a little defensive, "-I don't need a fucking guard dog. I can handle myself."

"'Didn’t say 'at," he hummed, carefully, eyes skimming along your face -a little like he was in wonder (it made your head spin a second), "-'S for me, not ya."

"How does that-"

"If 'ey're fuckin' with ya, 'ey're fuckin' with me," he interrupted, eyes so solid that you couldn't really look away, "-you can handle it how ya want, but Imma 'ave some choice words of my own. So, send 'em my way too."

The words faltered in your throat, something swirling around your heart. He was just so-

The coppery taste again.

You shriveled up your nose in disgust, and Rick laughed at it (something gleaming in his eye), as you reacted -spitting the taste out into the dirt.

"Yeah, keep laughing, Grimes," you tsked, but there was no bite, not really. Not like there used to be, "-I'll beat the shit out of you."

"'Ere's no doubt in my mind," he retorted back, smiling in a way that crinkled at the eyes. You thought for a spare second it was a beautiful one, that maybe he was beautiful.

After that day, you'd say that everything was a little confusing.

These feelings towards Rick were far from new, very far. They'd always kind of been in the very back of your mind. Part of you was actually pretty sure that hating him had in some way distanced you from what you felt otherwise. Now, that is to say, you had definitely hated him at one point. That just didn't mean that it erased the... other thing.

You and Rick were off-kilter. Or at least you were. You guessed you couldn't say anything about him, he was very much a mystery to you at this point.

He just kept doing things. Like the scratch and nosebleed. And every time he'd smile at you a bit warmer, say something you couldn't really avoid. Not anymore. (And you weren't sure you wanted to avoid, honestly.)

And he'd looked at you a lot more, searched you out (when before you used to shun each other, avoid each other), and just smiled at you sometimes for no reason. The thing was you didn't mind it. You wanted him to. Because you... because it was all different.

You were confused, but you weren't going to be the one to encroach on it. It all felt so surreal, that one day something would happen and you'd just snap right back into place -just like before. To be fair, you still argued. But, it was moreso bickering now. And even if it wasn't, before you could get as heated as you used to, you compromised -easily.

You slotted together perfectly and bounced off each other with ease. Hell, he started coming to you about running Alexandria, about problems he couldn't quite get. And the two of you would talk until you worked out a solution. Because you always did.

It made no sense why you'd even clashed in the first place.

You were confused, beyond confused. And you wanted things, wanted to ask things, but they seemed dangerous. Far away-

That brought you here, on a night when you couldn't sleep. Which were more frequent nowadays, if you were completely honest. This whole situation made your mind run for a lot of different reasons, and when it wasn't that, it was nightmares. Alexandria was safe, you knew that, but it didn't necessarily stop your fight or flight -the urge to constantly be on edge, protect.

So, sometimes you sat here on the steps of your porch in the night -the chill and silence of it soothed you. It wouldn't always get you back to sleep, but it would make you feel better. Remind yourself that you're breathing. That you're alive.

You exhaled, trailing your finger along the wood of the railing beside you -absorbing the low buzz of bugs in the air and the strangely familiar groans of walkers outside the walls. It was kinda fucked up that it calmed you down, but you gave yourself a pass.

"Funny seein' ya 'ere."

Your eyes shot up and latched onto his.

The Grimes house was just a couple of houses down, diagonal to yours. So, you could see him, but not entirely clearly.

He was leaning on the porch railing, you could see the sleeves of his jacket against the starch white, and his hair seemed a little messy -your eyes trailed over a particular curl. It was hanging slightly down in front of his face. (You got the urge to fix it, comb it back into place.)

"'Could say the same to you, Grimes," you replied.

You saw him smile, dropping his head to look at the ground. It made something in your chest flutter. But, before you could say anything else, he was stepping down from his porch and making his way to you.

As he got closer you recognized that he was in pajamas with just a jacket thrown over.

He stood just at the bottom of the stairs, leaning onto the railing slightly and just looking at you. Like he always did these days. With worry and... something else.

"Nightmare?" he questioned, genuinely.

You rolled your lip around your teeth, deciding to say, "Kind of."

Rick's lips pressed into a frown, eyes glazing along your face (you didn't look back at him), "Can I sit?"

You were wordless, but moved slightly to the left (despite not really needing to) as unspoken acceptance. He stared at you for a second longer, before slowly but surely making his way to the steps. He sat closer to you than you thought he would've, but it was almost in character of him to do something that surprises you so.

"Ya cold?"

On cue, you shivered slightly, "I've had worse."

Rick let out a low sigh (he knew you well now), nudging off his jacket and hanging it squarely on your shoulders without hesitation. His eyes trailed over you wearing it for a moment, a small look in his eyes that you couldn't name. All shiny as his lips quirked up just a smidgen.

"You don't have to do that," you objected, but it was quiet and weak.

"I want to," he replied, simply.

You couldn't argue with that. Hell, you didn't think you could argue with him anymore-

Rick interrupted the thought, eyebrows furrowed in that kind of way you knew to be worried, "What do ya mean 'kinda'?"

You took a second, staring out into the night -listening to the silence.

"My mind won't stop," you clarified, "-sometimes it's... things I've done, and other times it's... things that I just can't seem to figure out."

"What's it today?"

You pursed your lips a minute, before answering, "Something I can't figure out."

He stared at you, blue eyes flickering along your face in a hazy sort of way. It made something unfurl in your chest that you'd tried to keep shoved down, "Is 'ere anythin' I can do to help?"

You ran the idea through your head a few times, and let your eyes match him a few more. You aren't entirely sure why, but talking to Rick fel a little like he'd never judge you. Even though he had before, it was... it was now. Things were very different.

"Can I ask you a question?" you spoke, then, deflecting a little.

"Shoot," he responded, almost instantly. ( A little like he'd do anything you'd ask.)

"What happened to us?"

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, and you took it as a motion to keep talking, to explain. So, you did.

"We used to-" you dropped your hands on your lap, and stared out into the Alexandrian streets, "-We used to scream at each other until our faces turned red. We couldn't stand each other, and now..."

"'At ain't a good thing?" he questioned, something in his tone a little disappointed (it made your head swirl a little), "-'At it changed, I mean."

"It is," you reassured, facing him a second, "-but I just... Isn't it confusing?"

Rick stayed silent a second, eyes smoothing along your face. Just looking, like maybe he thought you were beautiful (just like you did on that day), or maybe like he never wanted to forget what you looked like.

"No."

You pressed your lips together.

"Don't get me wrong," he clarified with a smile, "-I hated ya once, a long time ago. But 'is? Now? It makes sense."

You asked before you could think about it, "What is 'this'?"

He just stared at you a second, something flickering through his eyes, careful and considerate. Something warm. The warmth you kept seeing now, the one you tried to avoid.

"You," he answered, vaguely, "-Us."

"What does that mean?" you asked, your confusion was ever-so-clear. This was all things you didn't understand.

He didn't say anything, as you stared out into the streets -watching some of the porch lights flicker. The night sky was still dark, so you weren't really worried about the hour.

And then, you felt calloused fingers on your chin -guiding you back to his eyes. The thoughts cleared out of your head.

"Y/N, you drive me fuckin' crazy," he laughed a little, and you felt your eyebrows furrow, "-not just in a frustratin' sorta way. You... I worry about ya like crazy, I think of ya like crazy... I care 'bout ya like crazy-"

Your heart skipped a beat.

"-an' I... I love ya like crazy."

Your lips felt stitched shut, as he just smiled at you -something in his eyes that you could see now. You could identify.

"Ya poke and prod at me until I'm reelin', yeah, but-" he pressed his lips together, eyes shimmering across your face, "-I wouldn't 'ave it any other fuckin' way. An' I mean 'at. I just... I'm not me without ya annoyin' the shit out of me. Without ya callin' me out on my shit."

You laughed, something burning the backs of your eyes, "I am the only one who would do that, huh?"

"Ya are," he grinned at you, and you felt something in your chest squeeze tight.

It felt clear then, abundantly clear.

"I love you too, Grimes."

He grinned, the big kind that crinkled at the eyes, "Thought so."

You rolled your eyes, with no bite, "Oh shut up, sheriff. I could still kick your ass, and you would deserve it."

He laughed, the genuine kind -hand coming to cradle your cheek, "Still, don't doubt it, sweetheart."

You smiled, and noticed just how close the two of you were. He only seemed to be roaming closer, and it made your heartbeat pick up in your chest a little. Before you could stop it, your eyes dipped down to his lips.

He grinned again, the kind that rattle down to your core, all handsome and shiny white teeth. And then, he started moving closer, his own eyes dipping to your lips.

"Ya kno', I can think of a way to get me to shut up."

"Can you?" you teased, quiet between the two of you.

He just hummed, distracted. It made something in your stomach stir.

"I am pretty desperate for you to," you remarked -playfully.

Rick busted into laughter, a loud kind that you barely ever heard from him. It made something in your chest shimmer, proud. You kind of wanted to hear that forever. And now, maybe you could.

The thought made you grin, as you leaned forward, impatiently, and connected your lips to his. It was just a press of lips, but you did feel him lean into it. Before you could get far, he laughed even more, breaking off the kiss, and it made you laugh.

"'Course ya can't wait for one second," he chuckled -playfully, "-You've always been so damn impatient."

"Oh, fuck you, Grimes," you laughed into the night, "-You're lucky I don't-"

And this time, he shut you up.

[jksprincess10]

Something in the shadows || 5. limbo

Summary: When a girl is found by Ellie just outside of Jackson, covered in what seems to be scratches from a beast, the community realizes that the infected might not be the only monsters out there.

CWs: Dark!Joel, monster!Joel, werewolf!Joel, NOT an omegaverse fic, fated mates, DUBCON, murders, gore, dark and horror themes, overprotective!joel, explicit smut, FMC without a name and a physical description (it's you baby), unspecified age gap, no y/n.

(3k words)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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She woke up to a cold, empty bed. She didn’t know what she had expected from a man like Joel – but part of her was still sad to wake up alone. The only reminders of Joel – bruises on her shoulder and her hips, where he had held her too strongly. As a reminder of her assault, her lip was split, blood had dried on it.

She dressed appropriately and walked slowly to the end of the hallway, where Joel’s room was also empty.

“I think he’s already up, I heard Tommy earlier.” Ellie’s voice startled her.

“Oh, thanks, Ellie.”

The older teen looked at her weirdly, up and down. “No offense, but you look like shit. You okay?”

“Yeah. Rough night… nightmares.” She lied effortlessly.

“Cool. I was just heading to the farm, catch you later.”

And with a last, weird look, the teenager climbed down the stairs. When she was free of her presence, she disappeared into the bathroom. Moving too much hurt.

“You have to tell me what the fuck happened, Joel. You’re scaring me, brother.”

The Tipsy Bison had been condemned when what remained of the bodies had been discovered by Tommy. Joel froze with pure dread as he discovered the bodies. He remembered telling her he would take care of it… and then everything was blurry. He thought he had just… talked to them. But the truth was much, much darker. The boys were disfigured, reduced to pure meat. He couldn’t have done that.

“I don’t know, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was rough, hiding an uncertainty. “I just… I talked to them, okay?”

“Talked to them?!” Tommy responded incredulously. “There is nothing left, Joel.”

The older brother’s hand trailed down his own face as he tried but failed to remember. There was a big gap between the moment where had taken care of her, then had come home to fuck her.

“This can’t be me. Do ya think I’m… I’m some sort of monster? Do ya think I could’ve hurt her and then take her into my own goddamn home?”

They had both done bad things in the past to survive but this – this has taken the cake of absurdity. 

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Tommy stopped him, his hands before him like an offering of peace. “But now, ya gotta help me clean up this fucking mess, Joel. And I won’t tell anyone about this. Because they probably deserved it.”

“What happened to you?”  Elaine asked once her new friend arrived at the laundry place, letting her bucket of water fall as her mouth opened in horror. She ran up to her, her delicate and pale hands brushing where the skin had broken. The woman jumped at the unexpected touch, but she smiled as much as her split lip allowed.

“Don’t worry. Just… got into a fight.” She gave some of the truth, sparse, breadcrumbs in the forest of her mind.  She saw the mess of water. “Let me help you clean up before anyone gets hurt.”

 While they worked, they talked. Elaine, like last time, did most of the talking. But she could see something was off with her new friend.

“What’s going on with you, sweetheart? I know it must be hard for you to trust people around here but… you can tell me anything.” Elaine had the empathy of a good mother. The kind who would take you in her arms and waited until you stopped crying. The kind she probably had before.

“It’s just… men.”

The woman with the auburn hair hummed knowingly. “Miller?”

She shrugged in response, so Elaine did not push. But she knew.

“I’m just… disappointed. I got what I thought I wanted. But I’m just left… even lonelier somehow.”

“You’re gonna have to stop speaking in riddles if you want my help.” There was no bite behind her words,

“We… had sex, yesterday. I thought we had something going on, but I woke up completely alone.” Her voice was lower, so she wouldn’t attract the local gossipers.

“Mmh. I see. Sometimes… men just need space to sort out their feelings. I wouldn’t worry much about it. Is he the one who…?” She asked as she pointed to her lip.

“Oh god no, he would never… hurt me. I don’t think so.”

But he had hurt her before, hadn’t he?

He was washing away the gore and the blood from his body, but somehow, even as the red liquid flushed down the drain, he didn’t feel cleaner. The beast was dirty, and right now, in the most inappropriate of times, it still wanted. He had left her side this morning, partly because he wanted to let her sleep in, and partly because he was afraid of what he could do to her once the want came back.  Would he hurt her to take what he wanted?

He heard the door open downstairs. She was probably done with her work. He chased the bad thoughts away as he dried himself and got dressed in dark washed jeans, a discolored shirt that was probably black in another life and a flannel that he buttoned almost all the way to the top, leaving two buttons popped open.

Joel climbed down the stairs quietly, and he cleared his throat awkwardly when he found her in the kitchen.

“Oh, Joel.”

He was overly aware of her body language, of the way she jumped slightly at his voice. “M’sorry, didn’t wanna scare ya…” His palm caressed the back of his neck as he approached her.

“I just… I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me after yesterday.”

“What? God… no.” He groaned in frustration. “Listen, I’m very bad at this.” So bad that he couldn’t even tell Tess he loved her, even when she was turning in front of his eyes. “But it has nothing to do with you or what happened yesterday.”

“Okay…” He eyed the way she balanced herself from one leg to the other nervously. “I… when you said you would take care of the guys yesterday, what did you mean?” She asked suddenly.

Something primal in him wanted him to tell her everything. But she would be horrified. So, he did what he did best. He lied.

“I was gonna talk to them… but the poor bastards were already dead when I got to them.”

“Do you think it’s…whatever hurt me?” She asked worriedly as her fingers traced the scar across her face.

He hummed in response. “But… you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of. I got ya okay?”

And with her bright, innocent eyes, he could see that she believed him completely. She approached him with more confidence now, and her hands laid on his shoulders as her eyes traced his lips.

“Joel… thank you.” She brought her face to the older man’s level and latched her lips onto his. It lit the fire in him, as his hands trailed down her body to hold her hips. He pressed her against his body tightly, and he could already feel himself getting hard. He was insatiable when it came to her.

She let go of his lips with a sweet smile, knowing the way his body reacted to hers. “Come to the winter ball with me. Please.”

“Yeah… okay. I’ll go.” She felt his hands on her ass, and he lifted her up to leave her on the counter. His lips trailed down her jaw, the soft skin of her throat. She smelled so intoxicatingly good, with a mixture of her and… him still somewhere on her body.

“Wait… Is Ellie coming back…?”

“Will be gone all day. Said she’d meet with a friend after work.” He mumbled back, his teeth sucking a bruise into her skin, before he soothed it with his tongue. She moaned in response, her body arching to get closer to him.

“O-Okay.” She’d thought Joel wouldn’t have much of a libido due to his age, but he seemed like he couldn’t get enough, and she couldn’t complain about it. He unzipped her pants as fast as he could before his hand sneaked in her wet panties.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about this pussy.” Joel growled, his fingers already tracing fast circles on her swollen bud. The top of her body fell against his chest, and he held her with his free hand.

“S’yours Joel, all yours.” She slurred, already drunk on pleasure.

“Yeah?” He breathed against her skin. “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With his fingers, he pushed her over the edge abruptly and embarrassingly quickly, and she let out a load moan as she came in her panties.

“Fuck, come here.” He lifted her and brought her with him, as he sat down on one of the dining chairs. “Need to be inside you.” He hastily undid his belt and freed his member, before pulling her bottoms off. He held the base of his cock so it would sit upright, and with his free hand, he pulled her down on it in a slow movement.

“Joel…” She whined weakly, letting the sound die against his lips.

“Hurts?” He asked as he felt her tight heat more and more. When she was sat still on him, he waited, his hand caressing her hips, where he had left bruises the night before.

“Hurts in a good way.”

Joel cursed under his breath as he guided her hips up and down his thickness, his half-lidded eyes looking at her in wonder. “Look at me.”

When she opened her eyes and looked at his, there was this bestial glint in his gaze that she had seen before. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as she bounced up and down his dick.

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep goin’.” She felt a harsh slap on her butt cheek that was swollen from the night before, which made her yelp. His fingers then came down to her clit, where he teased her. “Come on my dick.” He ordered in the shell of her ear, before biting her lobe.

His name fell from her lips as he caressed her clit with a purpose, making her gush around his cock and choke him deliciously.

“Atta girl.” She was turning limp in his grasp, so he started thrusting his hips up, giving her a break. He could feel his eyes roll in the back of his head, she just felt too good. She felt… right.  “M’so fucking close, darlin’.”

“Come in my mouth, please…” She begged, and she was already getting off him to fall on her knees in front of his legs. “Please Joel.”

He held the back of her head as he guided his throbbing length in her warm mouth. He kept her in place as he thrusted between her lips. She could feel herself gag, so she breathed through her nose and let the tears fall as he finally came into her throat. Joel pulled her away to let her breathe, and his calloused fingers chased the tears away.

“Thank you for that, darlin’.” He said as he caught his breath again. He caressed her head affectionately, before pulling her up on his lap to kiss her with a newly found softness. For once, the beast felt sated. Calm.

Days later, she stood in front of the mirror behind her bedroom door, uncertain of her choice. The dress fitted perfectly; it accentuated every curve of her body. The color, a blue that was almost white, looked so soft on her. The fabric had a nice sheen to it, that caught the candlelight and made her look like a princess. Elaine had helped her find it, and she was extremely happy to have a friend here, because she had a feeling she wouldn’t find anyone in her vague memories.

But somehow, she felt self-conscious. Even though Joel proved to be a… passionate lover, to say the least, she feared he would find someone better.

“You ready?” Ellie’s voice called, with a shy knock on the door.

She opened the door and brought Ellie inside, panicking. “Please, be honest with me. How do I look?” She whispered; afraid Joel was listening at the door.

“Damn! You look good. You’re gonna give the old man a heart attack.”

Heat rushed to her face, and she smiled shyly as she finally admired Ellie’s outfit. It wasn’t what she had expected for her, but she wore a dark blue dress shirt and black slacks. It fitted her small frame surprisingly well. Her brown curls were loose on her shoulders.

“Watch your language around the old man, yeah? You look good too.” She caressed the top of Ellie’s head playfully, before grabbing her coat and going out of the room with her.

Joel looked at his broken watch while he waited for the girls. Finally, he heard giggles and their steps coming down. He was going to make a comment on how late they were, but when he saw her… he completely froze. His mouth was half-opened, his eyes bright as he admired her shiny blue dress and the way it caressed the body he had gotten to know so quickly.

He finally looked at Ellie too and the hint of a smile formed on his lips as he saw their outfits were matching. His shirt was two shades lighter, but they basically had the same outfit.

“See? Told you, he’s having a stroke.” Ellie mumbled.

“You look good, kid.” Joel cleared his throat, then took the hand of the woman he desired in his. “And you look… wow.” He couldn’t really say his real thoughts, though. How he wanted to tear that dress off her body and see if her underwear was just as pretty.

“Okay, get a fucking room, I’m leaving without you.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

Of course, it had been hard to keep their relationship hidden as Joel always wanted to jump in her pants. Ellie had guessed it pretty quickly.

“No, no. We’re leaving.” She responded with an embarrassed smile.

The room was decorated beautifully in whites and blues, making the green of the natural Christmas tree and the colorful lights really pop. It seemed like the whole community of Jackson was present, and she felt a bit intimidated.

Two men shone by their absence, though. The two who had ambushed her and bruised her. She felt uneasy, as she wondered who had murdered them. Of course, in the deep pits of her gut, she knew who did it. She just didn’t want to give more reasons for her brain to shout “Run”.

On the dance floor, she saw Elaine and her husband. She looked beautiful with her auburn hair in a high bun, two pieces of hair framing her face. They exchanged shy movements of their hands as a salutation, from afar.

She always stayed close to Joel, but the man really seemed out of place. He kept to himself, drinking, and keeping an eye on Ellie, who was dancing with a pretty girl.

“Come on, dance with me, Joel. You won’t stay here moping around all night.”

She extended her hand to him, and he tried to look annoyed as he took it, with a grumbling “fine”.

 The music slowed down, and she wrapped her hands around Joel’s broad shoulders, as his palms embraced her lower back. Her skin, even though she was fully dressed, felt like fire against his hands. He wanted to ruin her.

She admired his face with a smile, noting how his messy curls were slightly slicked back with gel. He looked good, like this. In another life, instead of a survivalist… maybe that’s what he would have looked like as a serious businessman.

“You’re handsome.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

He grinned, the corners of his beautiful eyes forming lines that showed his age. “And you look like a fuckin’ angel.” His lips brushed her lobe as he whispered: “But we both know how you ain’t one, huh?”

Her cheeks heated up as she was reminded of how well he took care of her. She felt that constant pull and want with Joel, her lust never truly filled.

“Follow me, angel.” Joel ordered in a soft voice, his darkening eyes reading her easily.

He locked the bathroom door, and he sat her on the large edge of the sink, before going down to his knees like he was about to worship her. His body protested for a bit, the crack of his bones reminding him of his age. But he didn’t care.

“Makin’ me crazy, lookin’ like this. Want to spend every minute inside ya.” Joel growled as he kissed up her ankle, her leg, her thigh. He sucked and bit the sensitive skin there to remind her who she belonged too.

She let out a sigh of his name, her back arching as he got closer to his target. He helped her pull up the skirt of her dress until she was bare. Her pussy was covered by delicate white lace that was already wet.

“Shouldn’t even have bother to put anythin’ down there, darlin’.”

His rough hands pulled at the fabric until it ripped. She gasped.

“Joel!”

“What’s under is much prettier.” He shushed her and opened her thighs for him. He cursed under his breath as he dove in, the tip of his tongue collecting the wetness already pooling out of her hole. She was already squirming, still sensitive from the way he had fucked her that morning. His wet muscle went back to the top, effortlessly uncovering her clit to put pressure there. He licked, sucked, caressed at the bundle of nerves, until she whimpered, and he felt more nectar coming out of her.

“J-Joel, touch me, please…” She begged as one of her hands grabbed on to his gelled down curls as if to anchor herself so she wouldn’t drown just yet.

He groaned against her pussy, the vibrations giving her even more stimulation as one of his fingers breached her entrance. It was so thick, already filling her up just right as he kept sucking harder at her clit. He plunged his finger deeper until he curled it against that spongy part that he knew made her see stars.

“F-Fuck, please, please, I’m so fucking close….”

“C’mon baby, wet my face.” He mumbled against her, before putting more pressure on his tongue. He felt her grip on his hair strengthen, he heard her heartbeat faster as she came undone, gushing on his face beautifully. He ate her out through it all, until she pushed him away.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” Joel got up slowly, crowding her against the sink as leaned in to kiss her deeply.

 She moaned against his mouth, and she was about to unclasp his belt, until insistent knocks on the door made her stop. She came back to reality slowly, realizing where they were. Embarrassed, she pulled her dress down and got out of the bathroom. She vaguely heard Joel asking her to wait, but she knew their alone time was up.

Mortified, Elaine stood in front of them.

“Oh, hi.” Her mischievous eyes told her she knew what was going on. “I wanted to talk to you, what a coincidence.” She also acknowledged Joel with a polite nod, who cleared his throat and made up some excuse about going to see if Ellie was okay. Elaine pulled her into the now empty bathroom and closed the door, before taking out a small brown bag out of her purse. She looked at her friend, confused, as she took the bag.

“It’s a tea based on a flower that has contraceptive properties. Drink it once a week, and you’ll be fine. Indigenous women used it to prevent pregnancies. I’ve been meaning to give it to you, but I didn’t see you much these days…”

“O-Oh. Thank you.” Her slick still sticking to her thighs reminded her of how much she needed this.

“You’re welcome.” With a wink, Elaine let her leave.

She hid the bag in her purse, embarrassed that she got caught with Joel, and she went back to the main event. Her eyes looked for him, but it was too crowded. Instead, she found Tommy, Joel’s brother. The younger man looked beautiful; his longer hair tied in a low bun. He wore a blinding white shirt and dark blue pants.

“Oh, hey! I hope you’re liking the party.” He told her loud enough for her to hear.

Awkwardly, she got closer to hear him better. “Yeah… it’s nice. Do you do that every year?”

“Yup, it became a tradition. Was my wife’s idea.”

She nodded and thought the conversation was done, but he stopped her by placing a delicate hand on her bare arm. She almost pushed him away, but his eyes were soft and understanding. “Look… I’ve been meaning to talk to you… about Joel.”

“What about Joel?” She asked, trying to look disinterested.

“I’m… worried for your safety. I know my brother well, but he hasn’t been the same for a while now.”

She stayed silent and let him explain, but Joel stopped their conversation by finally finding her. His hand encircled her arm a bit roughly, and he pulled her towards him while flashing a dark glare to his brother. Tommy retreated.

“Chill, Joel. Was just talkin’ to your girl and see if she was enjoyin’ the party.”

“C’mon baby, we’re leaving.” Joel said as he ignored Tommy.

He pulled her into the dark, cold night, before she could protest. She finally gathered the strength to push him away, her big eyes looking up at him in distress.

“Joel, you’re hurting me. And you’re scaring me.”

The older man stopped in his tracks and pivoted his body so he could look at her. Some of his softness was back in his eyes, but still, something dark loomed behind. “M’sorry.”

“Tommy said… you haven’t been the same. What did he mean by that?” She confronted him.

“Ignore him.”

I was gonna talk to them… but the poor bastards were already dead when I got to them. His words flooded her memory.

“Joel, did you kill them? Josh and Kevin?”

Memories hypnotized his brain, like an out of body experience. He was inside the beast, as it destroyed the men.

“I did what was necessary to protect ya.” He responded darkly.

She didn’t know why, but tears drowned her eyes. They had abused her, badly, but she never intended for them to die like that. “Joel… you can’t.”

“Can’t control it. Forgive me, darlin’.”

She watched as he ran back to the house they shared, alone under the falling snowflakes and the moon mocking her.

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Shane Walsh × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Mentions of SA, blood, character death

Chapter: 2.10

Lori gave you a knowing look while Andrea continued to whine about issues that weren’t real issues. While Maggie and Beth argued in another room, Andrea stated she thought you should try to encourage Beth to accompany you while taking Jace for a walk around the farm, insisting the fresh air would do the three of you some good.

You did want to snap back at her since Andrea was unhelpful most of the time, but you bit your tongue for the most part and started washing dishes in the kitchen. It’s not until Andrea mentions your brother and Shane being sexist since they always dealt with the more dangerous tasks, leaving the women behind to do all the housework.

“It's because they were cops! They risked their lives every day, and they know what they are doing.”

Andrea lets out an over-the-top huff, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, if they spent more time teaching us how to defend ourselves properly, then maybe we could share the load. I should be able to handle my own goddamn gun.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re so good at handling them.”

Lori shakes her head. She was trying her best to defuse the tension, but neither you nor the blonde were listening at this point.

“Excuse me?”

“Last time you fired a damn gun, you almost killed Daryl!”

—

You step out onto the porch with a fresh cup of coffee in your hand. It wasn’t the real stuff and properly tasted stale, but it was better than nothing. You sit down beside Maggie on the wooden steps and hand it to her. “I thought you could use this.”

“Thanks.”

“How is she?”

Maggie pauses before answering, “She’s alive.”

You give her a sympathetic smile. Things had gone from bad to chaotic in the last twenty-four hours. Beth had locked herself in a bathroom, broke the mirror, and then used the sharp material to cut herself; luckily, her father was able to stitch her wrist in time. Rick and Shane had taken the kid Randell somewhere far to leave him, but apparently the area was surrounded by walkers, so they brought him back to the farm, where he was now essentially a hostage.

“Since we got here, we’ve brought nothing but trouble; I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you do,” she says, letting out a slight chuckle. “But if I’m being honest, I’m glad you folks came here. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

You watch as Daryl comes out of the barn covered in blood, which you assumed came from Randell. You feel physically sick thinking of what could have transpired behind those wooden walls. You tell Maggie, “I’ll be back shortly.”

You walk quickly to grab a bucket of water that was half full and a cleanish cloth that was hanging up to dry, and you call out after your friend, “Daryl, wait up.”

He keeps walking towards one of the wells. “I gotta go wipe—”

“The blood off? Yeah, I got you covered.”

He lets out a snort as he begins to wash his hands. “You just assume I’d come out covered in blood?”

“I noticed the cut on your arm earlier, and I don’t want it to get infected.”

Daryl glances down at his arms before cleaning them as well. Usually he was covered in more dirt and dried blood than the rest of you; what worried you was the uncovered cut on Daryl’s arm surrounded by dirt. He says, “You're such a mom.”

—

Daryl asks how your injury from the crash is healing as you make your way towards your group, which is sitting by the tents outside. The first thing you notice is the look on Shane’s face; he’s looking pissed off as his eyes dart between you and Daryl.

"Boy, there’s got a gang, thirty men,” Daryl says. “They have heavy artillery, and they ain’t looking to make friends. They roll through here; our boys are dead. And our women... they’re going to wish they were.”

Hearing those words come from Daryl, you instantly become scared. You avoid making eye contact with Shane as you walk towards him; he hands you Jace before resting his hand against your hip. He whispers, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Carol notices Daryl’s bleeding knuckles. “What did you do?”

“Had a little chat.”

When your brother starts to talk about ‘eliminating the threat’ you shake your head, not wanting to hear anymore, you decide to leave the conversation. “I’m going to take Jace inside.”

You didn’t doubt Randall was a bad person, and you believed you would rather wish you were dead if his gang tuned up, but you weren’t going to partake in anything to do with him.

—

“Can I ask you something?”

As soon as you hear Dale’s voice, you roll your eyes. You walked to the other side of the farm so you could be on your own with Jace. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dale, but I’m not going to vote.”

“So you’re just going to stand by and let your brother kill the boy?”

You lean against a tree, continuing to stoke Jace’s thin, dark hair with your fingers. “My personal opinion on this doesn’t matter, but what does is keep our people safe.”

Dale looks disappointed. “So you agree with killing him; you just don’t want to admit it.”

Learning that Randall stood by and watched as men in his group raped two teenage girls in front of their father stirred something inside—emotions that you couldn’t shift. “All due respect, it’s different from us, Dale. I understand why it’s wrong, all of us against one kid, but…” You stop talking when your mouth suddenly becomes dry, and it takes you a moment to find your voice again. “I’ve met Randall’s before, and trust me, you want to be on the opposite side of them.”

Dale gives your arm a friendly squeeze and says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He licks at his lips and says, “I spoke to Shane earlier to try and convince him to change his mind.”

“I imagine that went well,” you snort.

“He was dead set on never letting a man like that near you again, and I had a theory you met men like that in the past; that’s why I’m sorry. Nobody deserves—”

“Dale,” tears fall from your eyes. “Just please, don’t go there.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. Just—they listen to you, Rick, Shane; hell, even Daryl seems to value your opinion.”

You remain standing in the same spot as the older man walks away. “Dale?” He turns back around to face you. “How long did it take you to stop trusting Shane?”

“I never did.”

—

You stand by the front doorway of Greene's farmhouse; everyone has gathered to talk about Randall’s fate. You had already made it clear you weren’t getting involved, a decision that received mixed reactions; some thought it was unfair, while those closest to you understood why you weren’t getting involved.

You hold your hand out for your nephew and say, “Carl, I need you to come help me in the RV.”

He pouts, “What with?”

“I need you to help watch Jace while I mend a bunch of torn-up clothes.”

“Now?”

“Go.”

Carl sulks as he walks by you to go outside. You didn’t really need his help in the RV, but you, Rick, and Lori wanted him out of the discussion.

“You’re really not going to share your thoughts on this?” Dale asks.

You glance around to make sure nobody else is listening in before answering. “Honestly, I don’t know what I think. I want to believe I’m a good person who votes against it, but then I remember what he’s done, and then I’m unsure. But I do admire you, Dale; it’s not easy. Always remember who you are.”

He gives you a slight nod, and then you leave the house.

—

You’re unsure of how much time has passed by when you hear a loud yell of pain. “Carl, stay here with Jace and lock the door behind me.”

You run out of the RV and in the direction of the field. Your brother calls out for T-dog to get a shotgun as he follows closely behind you.

Spotting a walker trying to bite Dale, you pull your blade out of your belt and stab it in the head before pushing it off him, but you’re too late. Dale’s stomach had already been ripped open, and he was bleeding out. “No! Rick, Rick! Help, over here!”

Daryl is the next person to arrive. He kneels down and says, “Hey, buddy, you’re going to be okay.”

Rick and Andrea both scream for Hershel to come outside as soon as they see Dale, but you knew there was nothing he could do. You hold Dale’s hand and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay; it’s going to be okay.”

Dale was so confused by the loss of blood that it was hard to know if he knew what you were saying to him. But you could tell he was in pain and choking on his own blood from the way he gurgled.

“Shane... Rick,” with glossy eyes, you look up at them, your voice breaking. “He’s suffering; please do something.”

Rick points his gun at Dale’s head, but he’s unable to pull the trigger, so Daryl takes the gun from him. You move further back as Daryl kneels down, but you still hold onto Dale’s hand, not wanting him to feel alone.

“Sorry, brother.” Daryl pulls the trigger, ending Dale’s suffering.

[goodshipskypirate]

Garl's scar was foreshadowing, a harbinger to his eventual fate. It was the first sign that he wasn't Zale or Valere, the gifted chosen children of Solstice. Garl's entire background was that he was, by all account, ordinary. In most RPGs, he'd fill in the neutral slot with often middling gameplay and story functions, forever outshone by characters with flashier powers, appearances, and personalities.

But Garl didn't want that. He wanted to go be with his super special friends. He wanted to help them in their goals. And importantly, he wanted to prove he was capable and worthy of being in a grand adventure, that an average person could strive to be so much more when they have the drive and fortitude. And with flying colors, Garl did all that, as well as inspiring dozens of people all over the globe.

The world is poorer for having lost Garl.

And this had been something I had dreaded the more I played. His optimism, determination, and kindness meant he was always going to be the heart of the group. But it also meant he was without sin. There's not an ounce of envy, resentment, or betrayal in his bones; a perfect cinnamon roll whom everyone loved.

The type of character who was ripe for sacrifice and all the heart-wrenching emotion that came with it, right down to a red herring fake out where the game makes you think Garl is in danger when the Dweller of Woe nearly kills him (another demonstration of his vulnerability as The Ordinary One.)

I had to sit down and think about this for a bit. There was a part of me dreading that something like this was going to happen. That the one who was going to die, to be the catalyst for all the emotional woe and motivation to get our heroes to the final fight, would hinge on the passing of the purest soul in the game. It's almost comical how kindhearted he was that the only way he could continue was through death. Too good for this sinful Earth. Hell, even Aerith had a trollish spunk to her that purposely counteracted her supposedly "pure" aesthetic.

And I wondered how fair that was. That Garl, whose only fault was that he was too nice, gets to die. Out of all the playable characters, the one who perished was the normal one. And I thought, is that not counterintuitive to what Garl wanted to achieve: to be exceptional and have decades of adventure under his belt? To prove he's not some drag who cannot keep up? To rise above from any ol' village NPC and make a name for himself as someone greater than his humble origins? Why was he denied a long life in favor of the more fanciful characters? Why does a nice boy like him buy the harp farm? Why couldn't this ordinary guy survive till the end as a testimony to his inner strength, to show that someone who doesn't have special powers or extraordinary skills, can still see the sun rising after the final fight.

It feels cruel.

But the thing is, it's not how Garl feels. Because he so embraced life to its fullest from day one, even dying at such a young age did not feel wasteful to him because he set out to achieve everything he ever wanted: he got to help his friends, he got to have adventures and earn respect from everyone around him. His final act is what pushes Zale and Valere to give them the confidence to strive forth and take on Erlina and the Fleshmancer.

To Garl, not a single thing about his purpose was meaningless.

Yeah, I think the game did lack a bit for not diving into the injustice of his death. It's not that the game didn't acknowledge it: Zale and Valere were aghast that their buddy was dying because they know it's not goddamn fair. But there's never any internal dilemma or any vulnerabilities where Garl is allow to admit that he is scared of dying. The game doesn't allow him to sit down and cry.

Maybe Garl is just that cheerful that he readily accepts, but I wouldn't put it past him to maintain a united front for the sake of his friends. Maybe he kept his fears deep inside. It's shitty he has to sacrifice so much of his own emotions and physical well-being for his friends, but to Garl, he knows they are the only ones who can save the world. In-universe, Garl will do anything for the sake of his loved ones.

I've jokingly mentioned a few times how we don't deserve someone like Garl, but that's wrong. That implies humanity is unworthy to have someone so wonderful in their lives. Garl would never want you to feel that way. No, we deserve a Garl in our lives because he represents hope. He is a bright light in a constant wave of darkness, an unwavering being of active positivity. Countless times when people were either down or passive, Garl was the one who lifted them up and told them what they were capable of. He believes so much in everyone.

I can't really say the way his death was arranged and handled plot-wise sat well with me, but for Garl, he was always at peace because he lived.

And maybe that's enough.

[scifrey]

NINE-TENTHS

Twenty-four is one year too young for a quarter-life crisis, but hey, Colin's always been an overachiever. He's got a degree in Sustainable Tourism, which his family says he's wasting as a barista, an annoying anxiety disorder, and no freaking idea what to do with his life.

The only thing going his way is the cute coffee shop regular, a homo draconis named Dav (who, in his humanshape, is a total hottie.) Still, it'd be easier if Dav didn't have a habit of accidentally setting things on fire when he's startled. Like the café kitchen.

When Dav breaks draconic taboo and volunteers as a replacement bean-roaster to apologize for the inferno meet-ugly, sparks really fly. Everything's finally happening for Colin, until he learns that hooking up with Dav means that under dragon law, Colin is absorbed into Dav's hoard.

Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but becoming his boyfriend's property does not make this whole identity crisis thing easier. Especially now that Colin must navigate politics, paparazzi, and legal questions about his personhood. Colin's still angling for his Happily Ever After, but the growing scrutiny on his relationship with Dav threatens their budding romance.

And if he's not careful, Colin's fight for agency may just destroy symbiotic human/dragon relationships worldwide.

🐉☕❤️

A sassy, queer, alternate universe romance from Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2011 author J.M. Frey. Wrapped in discussions of autonomy and colonialism, Nine-Tenths meets in the middle between Red, White & Royal Blue and the Temeraire series.

🐉☕❤️

Part One

There's this thing in stories called the "inciting incident". 

And mine? It's a goddamn doozy.

It’s the part of the book, right at the start, where the lovers have their meet-cute, the farm boy leaves for the wider world, the Chosen One is attacked by her first evil monster, blah, blah, blah. You know what I mean. It's the place where everything opens up and you have no idea what you're in for—only that it'll be exciting.

I know all about Inciting Incidents because I was going to be a writer.

No, I thought I was going to be a writer. Historical romance, that’s my jam. Dukes, rakes, windblown-gowns, dropped handkerchiefs, cliffside confessions—I am a slut for that stuff. Forget real history (totally flunked ‘We’re-Feeding-You-Colonialist-Narratives-Disguised-As-Education’ 101). Give me made-up kingdoms and far-flung pirates. Give me the fantasy of a happily ever after that lasts beyond ‘the end’. Give coffee and stories, and I am a content boy.

But right before he got sick, in the summer between my first and second year of university, my Dad and I had a serious talk about writing. How much work it is. How long it takes to start paying off. Backup plans.

And then… after, I thought, well, he wasn’t wrong. If life was going to be pointlessly, stupidly, cruelly short, then I should spend my time trying to do something good, right? I switched majors. Science makes sense. Science is logical. Science creates vaccines and saves lives. Science can bring species back from the brink of extinction. Science doesn’t break your heart.

All of this is to say that I can—with complete and utter certainty—point to the exact moment when my life became a trash fire. It was my twenty-fourth birthday, and my big sister Gemma gave me the dumbest, but totally plot-inciting gift: a sunrise alarm clock.

The Incident starts like this, in Mum’s pokey poppies-and-roosters kitchen, with Gemma leaning on the back of my chair: 

"I have a perfectly good alarm clock." I hold up my phone, then let it slap back down onto the plastic tablecloth. "Goes ding when there's stuff."

My sister heaves the kind of sigh only eldest-born siblings make, indulgent and frustrated at the same time. I love making her make that noise. It's hilarious.

"It wakes you up gently," Gem says. "So you’re not cranky."

"I’m not cranky in the mornings."

Everyone laughs. I may have snapped at Stuart this morning when he shook my foot through my childhood bed sheets like an aggressive chihuahua. Okay. So I'm cranky in the mornings.

"I don't see how it's supposed to work." Stu grabs the clock. "How can you see the light if your eyes are closed?"

As the younger brother of twin siblings, I am used to having the toys I’m playing with pulled out of my hands. Instead of trying to snatch it back, I fiddle with the iridescent green bow that was on my present, then stick it to my ear. Mum smirks at my accessory, but otherwise her prim little 'all my babies are home to roost' face stays in place.

I'm the only one of us who went away to school, and stayed away. Gem came back to live with Mum straight after she finished her undergrad, so Mum wouldn't be alone in the house. Stuart never left the city, though he's got his own place now. But that's why I stayed away after I graduated last year. Mum and Gem don't need me, and if I came back, Stu would try to get me to join his crew.

I go weak in the knees for the kind of person jacked enough to pick me up and consensually throw me around. Standing on a roof next to a whole crew of pretty roughs trying to help them replace shingles? That's gonna lead to me swooning and dying of a broken neck. Stu doesn’t want that on his conscience.

Because she's a bossy know-it-all, Gem takes my present from Stu and opens it to show me how it works. She huffs. "You can see sunlight through your eyelids. It just works, okay?"

Stu helps himself to another piece of my birthday cake, licking the icing off his fingers and the serving knife. Mum slaps the hand holding the knife, and Stu flushes up and sets it down. He descends on his third piece like a wolf, but at least now he's watching his manners.

"There's an instruction manual," I point out as Gem tosses the booklet on the table.

"The day you read the instructions," Mum says, "is the day I'll know for sure the fairies really swapped you."

It's an old joke, being the Changeling child. I'm the only one of them with dark hair. The rest of my family are blond as heck.

Mum’s grinning into that little curl in the side of her mouth that holds secrets. Dad always called it Mum's 'Peter Pan Kiss’. He'd wrap his arms around her waist and kiss that corner, and Mum would swat at him for ruining her lipstick.

Thinking about Dad reminds me he's dead.

I hate the swoop-and-stab sensation in my chest that comes with remembering. Especially when there's a moment you want to share, and you turn your head to his chair and start composing the sentence in your head: "Hey, Mum's doing that—" and then you stop.

You stop composing. Stop turning. Stop thinking about sharing. Stop breathing.

Because that chair is empty.

Dad's dead.

And you'll never get the chance to point out the Peter Pan kiss again. Or watch Mum swat him. Or listen to him tease us for falling for Mum's Old World fairy stories. Or hear his stupid har-har-har donkey laugh, thick with his French accent.

It's my birthday. 

He's not here. 

I'll have another birthday, next year, and he won't be there for that one either.

I try to control my breathing, but Mum hears it hitching. I'm already staring at Dad's terrible empty chair, so it's not like I can hide what I'm thinking about. Mum curls her fingers over my knuckles.

"I wish he was here too, mo leanbh," she says softly. 

Stu and Gem go quiet.

"Sucks," I cough out, deciding to give no one the pleasure of watching me actually cry. I'll save it for later, when I'm back in my own apartment. Not because of any kind of 'real men don't' toxic masculinity bullshit, but because I hate the fuss. They take the shit my therapist tells them about being my support network too much to heart.

"More tea, Mummers?" I ask instead.

"Time for something stronger, don't you think?"

Next Part | Read on Wattpad

Trailer Music: "A Thousand Years" by The Piano Guys Cover Art: @seancefemme

[lavena]

Tmnt headcannons and a psa for those like 3 toxic ppl

87

- Raph can get the highest flips pit of all his brothers

-Leo found out how to make the brushes used for Kanji n such for fun and will sometimes make wallpaper with his favorite quotes

-donnie breaks the fabric of the universe at least once a week and no one is surprised

- mikeys accent is fake, he actually has a Bronx accent, he just liked the sufer persona so much he decided to commit

90s

-Leo got the go ninja go song stuck in his head for years

-Raph is the best break dancer and will go to clubs with his brother sometimes

-Donnie will sometimes escape to scap yards for hours on end just tearing appliances apart

-mikey has anger issues, as seen by him beating the shit out of a punching bag in the deleted scene (April's drawing of mikey)

2003

-leo will get "the batman" voice whenever he is stressed

- mikey has night terrors

-Raph knits

-dons guilty pleasure is Celtic sings (tir na nog, teir abhaile riu)

2007 (dint mind me leading this tf up)

- raph learned Spanish because one of the kids he met on the street as Nightwatcher spoke it and raph wanted to be able to talk to the kid and make sure he ls alright

Leo get vivid nightmares after the Winters debacle

-mikey after working as cowabunga carl has nightmares

- Raph got shot when he first started being a vigilante

-don and mike are twins

- Dons tech support leaves him more sarcastic than ever, which is really funny for his brothers, but leo gets whiplash for the first bit after he gets home

-don holds a grudge against raph and leo, and sometimes their father but never enough for it to affect their family

- Leo got really good at hiding in the shadows to the point he scares the shit out of raph in the mornings

-raph started watching tellanovellas with their father after his nightwatcher thing

-mike will bake custom cakes for his cowabunga carl gigs for an extra price, at first it wasn't very successful but then word spread that they were the best goddamn cakes around and people started to ask for cakes even if they didn't have a kids birthday. Let's just say having a turtle at your quinces or receptions became an inside joke.

-don and mike are up at the crack of dawn, mike cause he likes to bake the cakes the day of so they don't dry out and the frosting doesn't get the weird hard bits after refrigerating and don because he needs to inject coffee and acetometaphin into his veins to deal with these stupid fcuking people

-leo had to use an automatic rifle once in the jungle and he vows to never again

-raph and Casey spent one too many times out till the break of dawn, Casey almost got fired, but raph and him made up a story, put on voices and treachcoats all that jazz. Now Caseys boss thinks he has ties with the mafia... it gets really runny when April finds out and chases them down

-don and mike spend mornings listening to lowkey but hyping songs to get ready in the morning " a boy named pluto" mainly because don can't handel anything loud and mike will cry if the song doesn't have some kind of sway to it

- Raph became the nightwatcher after witnessing the og guys death, poor guys traumatized

2012

- mikey is the best at disappearing, but only after don invested the egg shell smoke bombs

- Leo voice box was permenatly damaged when he was attacked b4 the farm house arc, it gets really bad when he is stressed

- Raph after the whole brainworm thing (is that cannon or fannon, im like 70% sure it's cannon but idk) gets really spooked around insects and worms, especially if he can hear them moving

- Donnie got a chem set for Christmas from his brother, but he knows they really just stole stuff from nycu, he loves it

2018

- Raph gets sad sometimes that he isn't smaller cause he wants to be help, his brother make sure to give him a really big group hug, doesn't solve anything but he knows he is loved

- Mikey spray paints, it started with the sewer walls, but now he does abandon buildings too

- Donnie built himself the best noise canceling headphones, and then built all his brothers pairs because they kept asking to borrow them

- Leo ugly laughts at the fnaf sb freddy memes, all of them, it makes everyone who hears it wheeze

2023

- Leo is so goddamn anxiety ridden, this poor boy

- Finally a raph that does violent right, yeah it might (read deffo will in hs) end up bad, but never for his brother, cause he protects them with that violence and anger

- Don definitely learned how to speak Korean so he could watch k-pop interviews as they aired

- Mikey is a natural at martial arts

That's all I got for now, but quick psa

There has been a bit of toxicity regarding raph fans, like 3 of them. Everyone else is great, so for anyone experiencing hate from those people like @theunicorncomic-blog and @incorrect-2003-tmnt-quotes ( like people are being toxic to them not that they are toxic) along with anyone else experiencing toxicity from the 3 Raph fans

I am so sorry, I know it can be stressful and they seem to like to target things that are personal. So just remember it doesn't matter who your favorite is, it doesn’t matter if you hate a character, we are tmnt. We are TMNT and we love our ninja boys, and we always will. Embrace the new iterations, learn of the old, no matter what it will bring you joy to see our boys out n about getting love.

Spread love and affection, and ignore those who are violent without reason.

And for those like 3 toxic raph fans, I get that you are upset about people disliking raph or feeling like his personality is costing other characters, but something to remeber is that, we love raph, he is a great character, what we are upset about is that the writers make him "angry, strong, rule breaker" and nothing else, they don't let him grow, they don't let him experience, for example the other characters start out as this. " Mr. Rules, Ninja, Leader by name only" and then let him grow to " leader through experience, kind, and willing to risk it all for his family" another " know it all, annoyed, non confrontational" and let him grow to " empathetic, strong willed, smart" they allow the other characters to grow, while sticking with their base. So the Raph we want to see at the end of a series is " willing to do anything to protect, strength through family, and angry at injustice" we can see it be set up in 07 and 03, but the others leave him as an angry, violent jerk who is funny mind due, but non the less we are left wanting more from someone who tends to be one of the more focused on characters.

TLDR, we are upset that Raph suffers as a character from lack of mobility, in a main position he has the options to, but the writers don't give it to him, and by doing so it costs the other characters. So stop being toxic and giving your character a bad rap by using slurs against the people who have different views from you. Just remember there is way more good than there is bad, don't let these 3 ruin things for everyone else or warp your view of others

[g1rld1ary]

lamest place in the world - trevor spengler x reader

wc: 835

cw: smoking, drinking, swearing kissing, trevor and r are implied slightly aged up because i want them to be but has no impact on plot, please don't get in the car with a boy you've just met xx

Summerville, despite the name's associations, was the lamest place in the world. Certainly not the endless summer paradise that was suggested on the tin. There wasn't much to do over the summer except go to work, sleep, or fuck around in one of the many dumb fields around. It wasn't even a farming town anymore, why were there still so many goddamn fields?

You were in Walmart, preparing for a quiet night in. A pint of ice cream, a face mask, some new nail polish; you were all set.

"No way, I, um, love that stuff," A voice said from next to you. You chanced a glance at the boy next to you, towering over the shelf and all gangly limbs.

"You love nail polish?" You asked, raising an eyebrow. The boy cringed, caught in his own ruse and exposed by his obviously untouched nails.

"I just mean, uh--"

"You just wanted a reason to talk to me?" The boy nodded, seemingly resigned to his awful failure. To his surprise, you introduced yourself instead. You figured he was new to the town, and couldn't be any worse than the people you already knew. "What are you doing tonight?"

An hour later Trevor was in your car, driving you both out to the outskirts of town. He'd begged you to let him drive, apparently he'd never been allowed or something where he lived, and you figured your ancient piece-of-shit car could handle one more reckless driver.

You turned the speaker all the way up, blasting whatever tape you'd last put into it. You hung out the passenger window, singing along as Trevor raced down the empty dirt roads.

The car was parked in the middle of another field. Far off in the distance, you could see a few artificial lights, but other than that you were alone.

"Why'd you come to Summerville?" You asked Trevor once you'd shifted positions so you were both on the hood of your car, staring up at the dark night sky.

"My mom's broke," He replied, "We got evicted from our apartment and all we've got left is that stupid horror movie house and a bunch of old dusty shit inside."

"Shit," You agreed, coming up with an idea, "You want one?" You offered him a cigarette from the packet inside your jacket.

"I, uh, haven't smoked before," He said sheepishly.

"Neither have I. Cigarettes are stupid hard to come by here, they're only sold at one place and he's tough on kids. These're my brothers from college." You brandished a lighter, hot pink that you assured your mom was just for candles, and got to work.

You counted down together, inhaling in sync. You both choked out coughs and splutters, laughing at each other's embarrassing moments. You stumbled through the process, giving each other advice on how to do it properly despite both of you making it up on the spot.

You figured it out soon enough, and fell into a peaceful quiet, listening to the cicadas and rustling grass.

"Do you hate it here?" Trevor asked to break the silence and you looked at him, considering the question.

"I used to a lot more, I think. I used to be so fucking angry that this was the lot I was given. I've grown up a lot now, make my own fun, and it's not so bad anymore. Now I only hate it every other day," You joked, uncomfortable with the serious conversation. Thankfully Trevor laughed and you were back to more playful conversation.

You'd been out there for hours, burning through a few cigarettes and whatever booze you had stashed in the trunk.

"It's not funny, Trev, we were in deep shit--"

"What'd you call me?"

"Trev? Is that not alright--"

"No, no I liked it. Really liked it." You look over at him, were you always this close? You could feel his breath on your face, hot even in the summer air.

You think you were the one to kiss him first, but it honestly could've been either of you. Something in the air between you was electric, pushing you towards the boy you'd only just met.

The kiss was kind of awkward at first, both of you craning your necks from your position on your backs. Trevor was the one to move, pulling himself on top of you and framing your face with his forearms. He tasted like a bizarre mix of cigarettes and beer but it didn't repel you, rather encouraging you to open your mouth for him, the two of you getting even closer. You explored his mouth, bringing your hands up to tangle in his curls, pulling on them slightly and giggling into his open mouth when he moaned.

Maybe Summerville wasn't all boring, and you were pretty sure you'd just sorted out your summer plans.

[katsu28]

christmas tree miracle

pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

summary: when running horribly late on finding a christmas tree actually turns out to be one of the best decisions of your life

warnings: light swearing

a/n: taking a tiny break from writing 1k celebration things for some holiday fluff, but i'll be back on it soon!! come join kait's sweetest celebration if you'd like! <3

navigation + taglist

(gif found on pinterest)

Things were not going well. With the hectic nature of the holiday season taking over your whole life this time of year, you’d forgotten that you were in charge of securing a Christmas tree for your family.

It was now t-minus five days until Christmas, and you had yet to find a fir tree anywhere in the Outer Banks, which is how you ended up at at a smaller, more mom and pop farm called Woodards over on the south side of the island, praying for a goddamn Christmas miracle that would somehow get you the perfect tree.

But much to your dismay so far, no luck. The tiny lot was near void of trees, save for a few pathetic wilted ones over by the metal fence that definitely wouldn’t bode well if you brought any of them home.

You sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as you dragged a heavy hand down your face at the disaster you’d created for yourself. Christmas was your family’s favorite time of year, and you’d fucked everything up before the day had even come.

How were you supposed to go home and tell them that their favorite holiday tradition wasn’t happening this year, all because you’d gotten a little busier than normal?

“Hey,” A voice called from a little ways away, drawing your attention to the owner of said voice, a boy around your age, broad shoulders in a thick, worn looking grey jacket and blond curls poking out from under a red baseball cap that he tugged down tighter on his head as he peered over at you curiously. “You okay?”

You straightened up instantly, and you sniffed, trying to gain back your composure so you wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself in front of this stranger. This very cute stranger.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just, erm—trying to find a Christmas tree,” You sighed, gesticulating vaguely.

“Well, this is a Christmas tree farm, so you’ve definitely come to the right place.” He replied, lips quirking up into an amused smile. “Though you’re comin’ in a little late in the game, I’d say. You can probably see that we don’t have much of…anything, really.”

“‘S on me, I totally forgot I was supposed to get it this year.”

“Busy holidays?”

“That’s putting it simply. Feels like it’s coming a lot faster than usual.” You chuckled humorlessly, dragging a tired hand down your face. The boy nodded knowingly, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Any chance you’ve magically got any good trees somewhere around here?”

“I think I might be able to help you out.” He hummed, making a dramatic show of scanning his surroundings before crooking a finger at you to follow him. You fell into step with him as he navigated his way across the farm deftly, your steps a little less sure. What did your parents always tell you about going to a secondary location with a stranger?

The boy could definitely tell you were on edge, because he snorted, an amused smile stretching his lips. “Relax, I’m not gonna do whatever you’re thinkin’. We keep some trees over behind the main tent—the not quite perfect but still pretty good ones, just for poor old saps like you.”

“Oh, he’s funny too!” You rolled your eyes playfully, which made him smile even bigger.

“I try my best. I’m JJ, by the way. Christmas tree extraordinaire.”

“Y/N. Poor old sap.” That drew a laugh from him, and you felt a little bit proud of it. “So what made you wanna work on a Christmas tree farm?”

“Want? Nothing really, but I’ve known the Woodards since I was a kid so they usually hook me up with seasonal jobs. Lawn mowing in the spring, pool cleaning in the summer, that kinda stuff.” He explained, a fond smile creeping over his face. “Plus, Mrs. Woodard makes the best snickerdoodles ‘round this time of year. I swear I could never eat anything other than those cookies for the rest of my life and die happy.”

“They seem really nice.”

“They’re good people. Some of the nicest you’ll ever meet.”

“And they’ve got good taste in employees too. Are all your coworkers this charming?”

“Oh, stop it,” JJ brushed you off unconvincingly, holding a hand over his heart. “You’re making me blush!”

“It’s true! If all Christmas tree salesmen were as good as you, we’d have an even bigger tree shortage!” You laughed. It was weird how you could feel this at ease with someone you’d met not even twenty minutes ago, but here you were, flirting up a storm with JJ. It didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward at all, it felt…natural. Easy. Like you’d known each other for a lot longer.

“You’re just gunning for my cookies, aren’t you?” He teased, nudging your arm with a pointy elbow. You feigned surprise, shrugging innocently. “There might be some on the counter by the cash register later, you can probably snag a few if I’m feeling generous.”

“How kind of you!” Your conversation with JJ was cut short by your arrival at wherever he’d taken you, the sizable amount of pretty decent looking fir trees standing propped up against the fence proving a worthy distraction. “Oh wow, these are beautiful!”

“Feel free to look a little closer if you want, I’ll, uh, start getting some rope ready for you.” JJ set off almost instantly, leaving you studying the trees intently for the perfect one.

You’d only just found one when he reappeared, this time with a bundle of thin rope over his shoulder and some plastic netting, tossing the two on the ground next to the tree you were eyeballing once he was close enough.

“Oh, this one’s a nice one,” He noted, running a hand along the bristly branches. “You’ve got good taste.” You just grinned at him, happy that you were actually getting a tree after all. “I’ll get it tied up and ready to go then!”

JJ made quick work of packing up the giant tree, maneuvering it easily like he’d done it a thousand times before—which, judging by the lack of trees around, he probably had. Within no time, he’d looped the rope around the stump, slinging the whole thing over his shoulder and setting off towards the main tent with you in tow, without so much as breaking a sweat. It was probably one of the hottest things you’d ever seen.

“I can’t thank you enough for this, JJ, seriously,” You breathed, digging in your bag for your wallet. JJ leaned the tree against the fence next to the tent, brushing his hands off on his jeans as he made his way behind the counter.

He punched a few buttons on the ancient looking register, shrugging casually. “‘S what I’m here for. Glad I could help.”

“You’re literally the best. What do I owe you?”

“Normally, I’d hike up the price on this beaut for such a last minute score, but luckily for you, there’s a discount today,” He said proudly, grinning a wide, troublemaker smile. “I like to call it my ‘saving a pretty girl from more holiday distress’ discount.”

Your brows flew up at the boldness in his words, but you found yourself smiling. JJ the cute Christmas tree boy had game. “Oh? So how much do I owe you now?”

“Eh, sixty bucks.” JJ replied. Your brows furrowed at the low price. For a tree like this, which was actually pretty nice, you would’ve thought it would cost you an arm and a leg. “And a date.” He added hastily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“A date.” You echoed, tilting your head thoughtfully, like you were pondering it. Truth be told, you weren’t actually thinking about turning him down at all. In fact, you had also been grappling with asking him out in the duration that you’d gotten to know him.

“Yeah. Coffee, movie, walk around town—I don’t mind. I just…I’d really like to see you again, Y/N.” JJ looked almost nervous now, lips pressing together into a sheepish grin.

“I’d really like to see you again too, JJ.” You meant it. There was just something about him that made you want to know more. You passed him the money you owed him for the tree, which he secured in the register drawer before nodding curtly.

“Here, lemme walk you to your car,” He insisted, shouldering the tree once again with minimal effort. The walk to your car was shorter than you would’ve liked, but alas, here you were. JJ stared up at the roof of your car, propping his hands on his hips with a furrowed brow. “I can get this up there in no time. Light work.” He flipped his hat backwards over his blond locks, pulling a pair of work gloves out of his jacket pocket and sliding them on.

He’d shucked his layers off until he was just in a t-shirt that gave you full view of his biceps, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the sight of him and those biceps hefting the large tree on top of your car. And he was right, he really did get the tree secured to the top of your car in no time, and soon enough he’d opened your door for you, helping you climb in.

Shutting your door carefully, JJ leaned into your open window, braced elbows and open palm holding up his chin as he watched you throw your bag onto the passenger seat. “I’ll see you around?” He asked, cheeks flushing pink in boyish hope. “Soon, maybe?”

“How’s next Friday sound? Lunch at noon?” You offered, tilting your head at him.

JJ beamed at you happily. “Sounds perfect. Text me when you get home, yeah? Gotta make sure that tree survives the journey.”

Your cheeks warmed at the care in his words, even though he tried to disguise it with teasing. “I will.”

“Good.” He murmured, looking like he wanted to say something, but deciding against it. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you Friday,” You echoed, smiling warmly at him. “And thank you again, JJ. I mean it. You’ve literally just saved my Christmas.”

“Saving poor old saps is my favorite part of the holiday season.” He teased, winking at you.

“Poor old saps like me?”

“No…nothing like you. You’re way better.”

Feeling emboldened by the wistful look on his face, you leaned out, fingers angling his jaw to the side and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Bye, JJ.”

“Bye.” He sighed, pushing off from the window with his cheeks now a pleased pink. “Drive safe.” You waved at him once more before starting your car, watching him get smaller and smaller in your rearview mirror as you drove away.

Staying true to your word, you texted him the minute after you pulled into your driveway.

Y/N: miracle tree has officially made it home.

A reply came in almost immediately—a selfie of JJ, mid-munch on a cookie, squinting happily at the camera.

JJ: glad to see it. u just missed a fresh batch of snickerdoodles. sucks to suck, doesn’t it 😉

Y/N: you better bring some on friday then

JJ: of course i will. but i gotta tell u now, they come at a price

Y/N: and what would that be?

JJ: one tin of cookies for another date

You hadn’t even gone on your first date, and here he was bartering for a second. He was bold, and you liked it.

Y/N: deal <3

taglist!

@milkiane @moralina @scenesofobx @tenaciousperfectionunknown @strawberryforks @vesperluvsbillie @like-gabriel-and-castiel @fearthewalkingbitch @eichenhouseproperty @dpaccione @directioner5life @liltimmyst @lilygreennn @sunkissedsteve @mrstealuregirl @izzymaybank @bubsonnobx @laylasbunbunny @cityofidek

[whumpbug]

i call this one gene had a little lamb

this is just a little drabble i wrote based on the little sheep comment i made here. i wanted to characterize gene's mother and father a bit more, as well explore gene's character (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩) he's meant to be about 7 in the first part of the fic (horrible, i know).

some scenes were genuinely so sad for me to write so please look at the content warnings before reading! IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING THO. no animals were harmed in the writing of this fic. it was just sheep actor guys i swear its literally eating grass and chilling in a field as we speak

cw: animal violence, descriptions of animal death, verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, toxic masculinity, blood (let me know if i missed anything)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“Sylvia! Tell that boy to get his be-hind out here!”

Gene’s father’s booming voice made him freeze. He blinked.

He slowly turned to look at his mother from his place on the ground, surrounded by toy trains and wooden blocks.

Sylvia gave Gene a sad smile. “I think you’d better go see what he wants, baby.”

Gene gulped. His father was angry about something. That was bad news. Nothing good ever came of angry men.

“Syliva, I ain’t gonna ask again! You send him right on out here!”

Sylvia pursed her lips and swung her legs over the chaise lounge she had been sprawled out in. She closed the distance between her and her son, bending at the waist to kiss his cheek and guide him to standing. 

“It’ll be alright. Why, he probably just needs you to climb into the attic again and get down another bag of feed. Go on, Gene. Come on back when you're finished.”

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered. He shuffled his way out the door and to the front of the barn, where his father was standing, ominously red-faced.

Gene’s heart dropped when he saw what was laying at his father’s feet.

“Would you do me the great goddamn honor--” He reached over and steered Gene by the back of the neck to face the small bundle of curly white on the floor-- “of explaining the hell I’m lookin’ at?”

His voice was venomous. 

“A l-lamb, sir,” Gene stammered.

“A lamb," He scoffed. "And ain’t this the same goddamn lamb I told you to shoot yesterday?”

“Yessir.”

His words hardly came out as more than a whisper.

It was true, though. The poor thing had been born one day ago, and it was obvious right away something was wrong. Its back legs were crooked and mangled, like the bones hadn’t set properly. The sad truth was that it had no use on the farm, not even for meat. His father took one look at it and ordered Gene to put it out of its misery.

Still, Gene couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was just so small. It had such big, inky black eyes, eyes that stared right into Gene’s soul. The poor thing barely had a chance. It had never visited the soft, green pasture. It never tasted milk. It never got to play with its siblings. And he was supposed to slaughter it?

He couldn’t do it.

He had trembled there, holding the revolver, for about an hour straight until he gave up and carried the tiny creature to the barn, wrapped it up in his coat, and hid it behind some crates with the promise of checking up on it the next day.

It was stupid, yes, but he didn’t know what else to do.

"You think you get to pick and choose when to listen to me, dont'cha?" Clint spat.

Gene peered up at him with big, blue eyes and shook his head.

"N-No sir."

"Sure as shit seems like it."

"I j-just wanted to help it--"

"I don't want to hear it." Clint manhandled his single-action revolver from his belt and pointed it at the lamb.

“You’re gonna shoot it. Right here. Right now. In front of me. I don’t want to hear no whinin’, and I certainly don’t want to hear none of your sissy crap. Be a man, for Christ's sake, and shoot the goddamn animal.”

Then, the gun was cocked and shoved into his small hands. The lamb bleated softly, and Gene thought he might throw up.

“But Pa--”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.”

Gene shook. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood when he felt traitorous tears well in his eyes. 

He knew better than to talk back. If he refused, his father would only get more angry. Still, how was he supposed to do this? How could do this when the small creature was looking at him like that?

All Gene could think about was how white the little lamb was. It’d only been alive for a day and a half. It wasn’t brown and grimy like the older sheep, it was snow-white and soft and curly and warm and tender.

The tears won. He felt a smack to the back of his head.

“Quit yer cryin’. Get on with it. Now.”

Gene couldn’t help the soft sob that tore from his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of the lamb curling in on itself into a tiny little wool ball. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this--

“Eugene Alexander Delaney. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

A hand clamped down on his shoulder as another guided the revolver to aim at the lambs small head. 

“Pull the goddamn trigger or trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”

He did trust him. He knew his punishment would be awful. So why couldn’t he move?

Finally, his father’s patience wore out. His large finger slipped over Gene’s tiny one, and yanked back the trigger with a loud pop.

It was over in a second. Gene wanted so badly to take his eyes off the visceral, gory sight, but he was still frozen in place. There was blood everywhere.

Clint pulled Gene away from the sight, grumbling curses under his breath, and walked him from the barn and to the house, where Syliva was standing on the porch, trying to get a glimpse of them.

“What on God’s green earth is goin' on?” She asked, finally getting a look at the state Gene was in.

“Your boy is a wuss is what's goin' on. Can’t even shoot a goddamn lamb that was on it way out in a few days anyways.”

"You made him shoot it?" Her voice took a dangerous tone.

"He's too soft, Syl. It needed to be done."

"He is seven years old--"

"When I was seven, I was already helpin' my daddy skin and butcher the meat from huntin' trips. This boy is too soft."

Gene stared blankly at a spot on the ground, doing his best to tune out the conversation. He hated being the cause of a fight. He wished he could be different, he wanted to be different. He didn't know why doing things his father wanted him to do put such an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly, the tension reached its peak with a shout from Syliva, demanding her husband go take a walk and cool off.

Clint stormed off, reholstering his gun and scoffing the whole way back to the barn. Gene kept his head down, lip quivering and tears falling. A small, hitched breath escaped him.

“Oh baby,” Sylvia whispered, pulling Gene close to her chest. She threaded a gentle hand through his blonde locks.

And that’s all it took. Gene erupted into sobs, and sobbed and sobbed and clung to his mother like the little boy he was. His entire body was shaking now.

“Shh.. shhh, it’s alright baby. That poor thing was probably hurtin' real bad. Your daddy was right that it wasn’t gonna make it through the night.”

Gene continued to bawl. He gathered a fistful of his mother's dress in his hand and shook his head, whimpering lowly.

Sylvia gathered her boy up in her arms and sat with him in her rocking chair, rhythmically rocking him back and forth. She cradled him close, just like when he was smaller. She hummed softly, smoothing his hair back with a gentle hand.

Gene buried his face into his mother’s chest and breathed in her scent. She smelled like peach jam. He sobbed harder.

“Let it out, baby. It’s okay. I know. It’s okay.”

The two stayed like that until Gene’s sobs turned into soft hiccups and then evened out. Sylvia kept rocking him.

••••

Gene stared down at the small, injured lamb at his feet.

It was bloody. There was a deep wound in its flank. A coyote must have gotten to it after it escaped the pasture. It was sprawled on the side of the road, panting, and left to the elements. The poor thing was shaking.

Gene’s hand went to his hip holster instinctively, and he whipped out his revolver. He cocked it with a soft click before he stopped. Lowered it. Took a closer look.

Other than the wound in its side, the lamb seemed to be relatively okay. Gene was almost certain the animal would be fine if treated properly.

He pursed his lips into a straight line and replaced his gun in its holster.

He crouched and carefully, gently gathered the thing into his arms and held it close.

Calliope whinnied softly as Gene mounted her, still cradling the small bundle of white to his chest. It was soft, warm, and little. It bleated quietly.

He clicked his teeth and urged Calliope onwards, shrugging off his coat to wrap around the tiny thing.

He tilted his head down to whisper to it, the sound hardly audible. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[x-manson-annotated]

X-Manson Annotated Chapter 4 - Part Seven - THE GUTHRIES

We're close to the escape. This section will cover the history of the Guthrie Siblings and their involvement in the school. This is paired with some more worldbuilding. We're close to the end. After Chapter four there is one more chapter and then we'll finally be done with this goddamn fanfiction. Thank you for sticking with me.

*Marrow, Sarah. (Possibly Sarah Rushman, i don't know I haven't read Realm of X 2023.)

*Lucinda Guthrie. The hardest working woman in the marvel universe.

*this isn't totally different from Sam's dad's attitude that Sam talks about in his first appearance.

*Was implies that Sam is definitely dead.

Everything in the home being government accommodations is interesting. *Replacement house implies that maybe their original one was destroyed.

*The thing about the mines feels very true to life for a lot of that region. Destabilized first by the mines and now further destabilized by the mines being closed down. The government seems to be providing housing, but not jobs.

Lyndon B tries to keep the mines open, but it doesn't work out. Mutant Riots? The Government looks to build prisons, but they don't get built in Kentucky.

The local illegal jobs are pot farms and moonshining. Lovely. Nowadays it's pills.

are the revenue men a gang or are they the IRS?

Why are they bothering with some fifteen year old kid?

She found out about Xavier right before the first raid on the School by Emma, Doug, and Erich.

*No black-lung for Thomas Zebulon Guthrie.

Xavier mind controlled her that early on?

*X-Manson Donald Pierce seems like such a solid guy in comparrison to his comics self. Real groovy.

*They make superior prosthetics in this universe.

Maybe not super altruistic.

Okay, so his focus is on jobs for Appalachians.

He tried to do stuff with plastics, but then oil started to run out?

Fossil fuelless universe?

Synagas

*sundown towns

he might be right about it just being a convenient excuse for bigotry.

he scared the shit out of people by dressing as a hippy and they were probably frightened by his prosthetic claws.

Why was the diary under the floor? Did he know Xavier might make him forget and he purposefully hid it? Did someone else?

*her other kids are mutants. any Jay Guthrie fans in the crowd?

As a new mutants fan, this is kind of painful to hear recalled. I think this is a reference to Sam becoming the leader in X-Force, but twisted into a dark place.

Is it possible that both Logan and Piotre were similarly conditioned? Probably not. The cancer would have broken Xavier's hold on them too.

Bones

Oh sam. You poor broken boy. All of this shit just hit the fan and got everywhere. Sarah, Paige, and everyone got hit by it.

[ahedderick]

Endless tutor

My kids have always needed help with homework, due to being a) kids and b) neurospicy in various ways. And I always did what needed to be done. Around the time my son entered high school, he got a serious tickborne illness (not lyme) that made him sicker and sicker. I had to navigate the school system's rules for absences, help him get caught up on homework after sick days, get him a (fairly worthless) 504 disability plan, etc. It got to be, if not a full time job, at least a part-time job.

His third yr of hs we had to homeschool, because his immune system was toast. We finally got a specialist to treat him who knew what she was doing (and boy was THAT a long and frustrating process), but he was VERY sick by that point, and the treatment stage took forever. Homeschooling had its good points, but his illness took a big toll on the family. On him - and me.

After that came two deeply frustrating years at the local community college (plus COVID hit), and both kids needed substantial help navigating the online schooling. At one point I was up to 25 hours per week JUST on helping them get through their classes. On top of the farming and eldercare for my increasingly frail father. I have to emphasize, here, that at no point were the kids being lazy, they truly needed the extra help and learning support. They had some classes where the teachers were good and they learned without tutoring.

I read aloud. Discussed history and literature. Relearned math and chemistry concepts so I could tutor them. It has been. a LOT.

Anyhow. This morning I have been sitting trying to figure out my daughter's (college) precalculus assignment so I can re-teach the concepts to her. The teacher is a) angry and b) heavily accented and hard to understand. And I am so. goddamned tired. of taking up the slack for poor teachers. and an educational system that seems broken beyond salvaging.

[sapphire-weapon]

Do you have an headcanons on the direct aftermath of RE4R? I imagine there would be a lot of activity once they're both back on American soil, but I also feel like there's probably time for them to kill between getting off the jet ski and getting back home.

So an idea I've really been enjoying is that Leon takes the jet ski back to the village, takes the police cruiser that dropped him off (because this one doesn't go off of a bridge and fucking catch on fire like the one in OG lmao it's still just waiting there near the farm house), and retreads the road he took coming in in order to get back to the town he started in and, specifically, to the police station that was initially helping him out.

Because my thing is, like. They end up literally in the middle of fucking nowhere. I can't even tell what type of body of water that's supposed to be -- and, if it is actually the ocean, how the hell would Leon be able to get his bearings out there? Hunnigan's transmissions still aren't coming through, and it's not like he's able to connect to some sort of satellite navigation system. The only thing that makes sense to me is for them to not go very far at all and just sort of stay in terrain that's still familiar.

Of course, that then runs into the issue of the white American guy who's caked in mud and blood and literal shit and has like 20 guns strapped to him stepping out of a stolen police cruiser with the daughter of the US President. They would have to get hidden from public view as quickly as goddamn possible, and they'd have to get in touch with US military officers or other officials who have been looped in on this whole thing.

So, that's a whole thing that's like "this is the only thing that makes sense to me in terms of the logistics of how they get out of there and get back to civilization."

And now I'm going to tell you my purely self-indulgent headcanons of what happens after that, all of which have no basis in reality at all and fuck you I do what I want.

Once they get back to actual human society again and US authorities are notified of their safety and their location, the next thing to deal with is the fact that Leon has not slept or eaten in over 24 hours (well... proper slept; the 3-hour nap he took after the Del Lago fight is the only real rest he's had in this time), and Ashley isn't faring much better. Not only that, but they both had fucking radiation surgery just a few short hours ago, and Leon just basically fought an entire goddamn war all on his own.

They're both also probably coughing and hacking up bug parts at random intervals, but that's like a whole thing on its own.

There's an urgency to get them back States-side, sure -- but, considering the condition that they're both in, it's probably unsafe to actually put either of them in a plane right now. So, that means that they remain in the custody of/the responsibility of the poor, unfortunate, unlucky local Spanish chief of police that got tasked with being wrapped up in this bullshit in the first place.

So there's not much he can really do other than take both of them home with him.

His wife is thrilled (not). Thankfully, there's a spare bedroom in the house, because their kids are already adults and have long since moved out.

This gives Leon and Ashley both a chance to shower and eat something and sleep in an actual bed in an actual house. They're both also gifted a change of clothes, which makes Ashley break down and cry briefly with relief and gratitude -- and the sight of her doing that makes Leon choke up a little bit, too, but he maintains his composure.

And if you really didn't think I was going to "there's only one bed" this shit, like... what the fuck are we even doing here, man.

Leon tries to be like "I'll just sleep on the floor" at first because he's a dumb idiot boy, but Ashley's basically just like "if you don't lie down on this fucking bed I swear to god I'm going to start screaming and I don't know when or if I'm going to stop." because her nerves are shot and she's had her fill of Leon being the self-sacrificing hero and she just wants him to be comfortable and sleep on a fucking mattress that's dressed in clean sheets.

And despite how physically exhausted they both are, neither of them can seem to stay asleep more than an hour or two at a time. Every little bump and noise jolts them awake and puts them both on hyper alert, and they both have to remind themselves where they are and that they're safe and that they're jumping at shadows. And when they do finally drift back off again, it's not Ashley who has nightmares -- it's Leon. She, at one point, needs to wake him up from one particularly bad one that had him twitching and tossing and talking in his sleep. When he wakes, it's the first and only time Ashley can recall having ever seen him look truly afraid -- of anything.

They spend this time in between stretches of sleep having quiet conversations in hushed tones, and those conversations get deep and personal and vulnerable and intimate -- because they both feel like they're in a liminal space and none of this is really real, and when the new day comes and they're on their way back home, neither of them will remember what was said between them.

Of course, that's not true. But that's how it goes.

The best sleep they get is when they finally let go of the pretense between them and cling to each other for warmth and comfort. Leon holds her in his arms, and Ashley nuzzles the bridge of her nose into the nape of his neck, and their legs are tangled up between them. If we're feeling spicy, we can also add some slow, sensual makeouts and light-to-heavy petting also as well.

In fact, that's probably the best sleep Leon's had in years, period.

But the new day eventually breaks, and then it's off to rendezvous with some high-ranking military personnel and finally, really and truly, start the journey back home.

And that, officially, is where their fairy tale ends and reality comes back in.

[marmorafarms]

Kent x Cis Female Reader

Hey everyone! I'm back with a new smutty fic inspired by the amazing @sdvnpc who has a bunch of amazing works that you should go read.

18+ ONLY

Summary: Kent pays the local farmer a visit, intending just to introduce himself to the woman his son has feelings for. But when he realizes he and his son have similar tastes, Kent decides to think with his other head. And it's just his luck that the farmer is more than willing to have some fun.

Warnings/content: cheating, affair, safe sex, age gap, cis female reader, sassy reader

Word count: 2,358 words

Enjoy!

"Bye Sammy!" You giggle, waggling your fingers at the flustered blonde standing in front of you. Sam had insisted on helping you with the farm work that day, claiming that you seemed stressed and probably needed a hand.

You knew better.

This boy had it bad for you, and it was confirmed when you suggested he shower at your place when the farm work was finished. His face had bypassed pink and went straight to fire engine red when you told him that hot and sweaty was a great look on him, but he should probably get cleaned up.

"Haley got me some fancy soaps and hair products," you said. "You can use anything in there. You'll smell so good after."

Sam had made a slight choking sound, and you gave him a wicked grin as he looked away.

"I um…a shower sounds good," he said. "But my dad is coming home tonight and I gotta help my mom fix dinner."

You blinked, flirtatious banter suddenly shoved to the side. "Wait really?" you said, shocked. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I've been so nervous about it," Sam said honestly. "Talking about it just makes my anxiety worse. I'm worried that things will be different. Bad different."

"Hey," you said softly. "It's going to be fine. No matter what happens, it's going to be fine. You have Sebastian, Abigail, and me all looking out for you, okay?"

Sam smiled shyly and nodded. In a moment of boldness, you swooped down and kissed his cheek before bidding him farewell. Hopefully things would go well. And hopefully Sam would be up for taking a shower at your place later.

The next morning, you found yourself waking up to not only your alarm, but to someone knocking on your door. Your alarm was ringing so it was 6 am. Who the hell was wanting to visit you this early?

You climbed out of bed and padded over to the door, still in your pajamas. Typically you didn't let anyone see you in just a tank top and ass shorts, but whoever was there would just have to deal with it.

There was another knock. "I'm coming!" You shouted, annoyed. You flung open the door, ready to interrogate whoever had interrupted your morning routine, but stopped short. There was a man standing on your doorstep. A man you had never seen before in your life.

He looked kind of familiar, but you couldn't place why. The stranger had an intense gaze, steely gray eyes looking you over. Really looking you over.

Wait, was he checking you out?

He looked old enough to be your dad, but was still kind of hot. Scratch that, he was super hot. Chisled jaw, broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He could beat the shit out of you and you'd say thank you.

The silence that hung in the air was awkward, and this weirdo hadn't introduced himself or even attempted to say why he had knocked on your door at the crack of dawn.

"...Can I help you?" You asked cautiously.

"Holy hell, no wonder Sam wants a piece of you," the man said in a gravelly voice. "You're the hottest woman I've ever seen!"

"I…um…excuse me, what?" You stuttered out, mind going blank. If you hadn't just woken up, you definitely would've had some choice words to toss his way before slamming the door in his face.

"Oh god," he said, face paling. "I am so goddamn sorry. I uh, my name is Kent. I'm Jodi's husband? Sam and Vince's dad. My wife had mentioned you last night. Said something about Sam being into you, and I wanted to meet you."

"At six in the morning?" You said incredulously.

"Oh uh. Sorry," Kent said, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a gesture that reminded you forcibly of Sam.

"It's fine," you said with a sigh. "I usually get up around this time anyway." You fixed him with another look, and noticed that his eyes were wandering.

"I didn't realize a plain black tank top could be so interesting," you said, raising your eyebrows. Kent's face turned a dusty pink, and he looked away.

"Sorry," he said again. "You're just…wow."

"You're not too bad yourself," you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway. Instant regret washed over you. You had just flirted with a married man, the father of the guy you're interested in. You needed to go back into your farm house and put yourself in time out.

Kent smirked at you, and took a step closer. "Oh yeah?" he said in a dark voice, each word dripping with honey.

You should tell him to go. You should put an end to this. You should–

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," you said, allowing him further into your space.

"I haven't had my coffee today," he murmured. "Would you mind making me a cup?"

You wanted to make fun of his line, but unfortunately said line was working on you. You opted for rolling your eyes and walking back in, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"This isn't a drive through coffee shop," you said, noticing he hadn't come in. "I'm not bringing your cup over. If you want coffee, you better come in."

Kent didn't need to be told twice. He kicked off his boots and slammed the door shut. It wasn't long before you were both in the kitchen, Kent watching you measure out the coffee grounds.

"I've got an hour," Kent said bluntly. "I'll be missed if I'm gone longer than that."

You paused, and set the container of water you were about to pour into the machine to the side. You turned to face him, leaning back against the stove.

"Well I guess coffee will have to wait," you said with a small smile. "We wouldn't want you to get in trouble." You walked over to him, and boldly put your hands on his chest. He found your hips easily, large hands settling nicely on them.

"You fuck married men often?" he asked. "You don't seem bothered by this."

"You cheat on your wife often?" you fired back. "Because you don't seem bothered by this either."

Kent's eyes went wide, and your lips curled into a devilish smile. "You mind your business, I'll mind mine." He nodded dumbly, and allowed himself to be led to your bedroom.

You began to strip, slowly raising the hem of your shirt, taking your time before it was tossed to the floor. Kent gazed at you hungrily as each piece fell away, and soon you were naked before him. Gracefully falling onto your bed, you turned to face him. You let your legs fall open, and gently spread your pussy with your fingers. His eyes zeroed in on your actions, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Slowly, you began to rub your clit, moaning softly as you did so. Kent was frozen to the spot, and you chuckled lightly.

"You just gonna watch me put on a show? You can't fuck me while you're over there with all your clothes on."

Kent sprung into action, practically tearing his clothes off as he made his way over. You helped yourself to a view of the goods, and bit your lower lip as you drank him in.

His cock was fairly average in length, but holy fuck was it thick. You could feel your pussy getting wetter as you imagined how it would probably sting slightly as his girth stretched you open.

Boot camp had clearly done its job, giving him defined abs and pecs that you just wanted to squeeze. If you had more time you would've shoved him onto his back and worshipped his gorgeous form. But time was of the essence, and you didn't have time to pepper his body with kisses or drag your tongue over his abs like you so desperately wanted to.

You made a move to get on the bed properly, back against the headboard instead of sitting near the edge of your bed. But Kent was faster. Quicker than you thought humanly possible, he was down on his knees, strong arms hooked around your thighs and pulling you closer.

With Sam being his son, you expected Kent to be more of a talker. Sam had never shut up a day in his life, but it seemed his dad was more reserved. Even more so than Sebastian, which was a shock. He didn't say a single word before latching onto your thighs, biting and sucking dark marks into your flesh. He kissed the marks he left, ignoring your pleas for him to lick you, touch you, do something to bring you close. He seemed perfectly content teasing you.

And damn that was doing it for you.

You sighed out in a mixture of pleasure and relief when his tongue finally licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He lapped at your clit, sliding a finger inside of you. Kent began to add fingers as you squirmed. Vaguely, you realized he was stretching you so his cock would fit inside. Looking down, you let out a pornographic moan. His face was absolutely coated in your slick. Good head was always messy, and you were glad he wasn't afraid to shy away.

You were nearing your edge, so close so close so–

And then it stopped. You made a sound of protest, watching Kent get on the bed. He manhandled you into position before rubbing his tip at your entrance.

"Wait!" You said in a strangled voice, getting a look of confusion in response.

"Condom," you said simply, fumbling with your bedside drawer to pull one out.

"I'm clean," Kent said, sounding defensive. "Are you not?"

"I am," you said, throwing a bottle of lube and a condom his way. "But my body can still make babies, and I'm assuming you aren't sterile."

Kent grunted in reply, as though the thought hadn't occurred to him. In all honesty, it probably hadn't. He rolled on the condom as fast as he could, and lubed up. Your slick would probably be more than enough, but you were glad to see he was prioritizing your comfort.

Kent lined up once more, and slowly began to press in. And shit, you had been right on the money with your assumption that he would stretch you wide. At this rate he was going to split you in half! Not that you were complaining.

Kent finally bottomed out, and gave you a moment to adjust. His eyes were closed, breathing heavy. He was clearly restraining himself from pounding into you right away. And that was certainly thoughtful of him, but you needed him to cut that shit out now.

"Move," you whined. "Come on, give it to me!"

Kent nodded, and started thrusting, setting a steady pace. But it wasn't enough.

"Stop holding back!" You said, frustrated. "You can do better than that! Come on!"

Something snapped in Kent's brain, and suddenly he was ruthlessly slamming into you, hauling your hips up with a grip so tight you knew it would leave bruises.

"Fuck! Yes! Just like that!" You wailed. He was silent as ever, but let out small groans, letting you know he was enjoying himself.

"Amazing," he finally panted out. "You feel so good around me…like you were made just for my cock."

You nodded frantically. "Made…made for your cock," you moaned out, not really caring what you were saying. You were close again, and you needed to cum.

"K-Kent, I'm…I'm…"

"Cum for me," Kent said, hips snapping against you, the sound of skin on skin filling the air. "Come on girl, you can do it, cum for me!"

Your back arched as you reached your peak, cumming around his thick cock. It was a good thing you didn't have neighbors because they would've definitely heard the scream ripped from your throat.

That sent Kent over the edge, slamming into you roughly one last time as he spilled into the condom. His eyes were closed, and sweat coated his body. Kent pulled out, tied off the condom and tossed it out before pulling his clothes on.

"Enjoy yourself?" he finally asked as you were pulling your shorts back on.

"8 out of 10," you said simply, and giggled at the annoyed look on his face.

"You screamed," he grumbled. "I think I was more than an 8."

"Oh you would've been a perfect 10," you said, leading him to the front door. "But you lost points for not letting me finish before sticking it in. A true gentleman makes sure his lady is 100% taken care of before chasing his own pleasure."

"Well maybe I'm not a gentleman," Kent said, putting his boots back on.

"Hmmm…true. But I bet Sam is," you said, pleased with how Kent's entire body froze up at these words. "I bet he would make sure that I came before putting his dick in me. He's so sweet and attentive to me…he'd probably give me more than one orgasm too. Maybe what just happened should be a one and done type of thing. I'll get with Sam and let him treat me right. Since he's a perfect gentleman."

Kent turned the doorknob, but stopped before exiting. "Or maybe I can come back another day and I can show you just how much of a gentleman I can be."

"I'll hold you to that," you said as he made his way down the steps. "See you later."

He nodded, a small smile on his face as he walked down the path leading to town. You went back into your house to get cleaned up and ready for the day. You were going to have to go into town today. Pierre finally had a new backpack in stock, and you desperately needed a new one. Jodi would be in the town square talking to Caroline, and you knew you'd have to smile and wave as though you hadn't been fucked into next week by her husband.

But honestly? You didn't care.

[ltwharfy]

"Bob's Burgers" Season 3 Episode Ranking Rewatch (long post)

So, I've been rewatching "Bob's Burgers" from the beginning and ranking the episodes using the spreadsheet that @babsvibes created! If you want to know why I'm doing this or how I view the 1-5 rating scale, you can check out my Season 1 post!

Now on to Season 3:

Average (Mean) Score: 4.43

Mode (Most Common Ranking): 5

Ranking breakdown: 12 5s; 9 4s; 2 3s

Season as a whole thoughts:

Season 3 is a goddamn delight! My season 2 as a whole review was positive and Season 3 just builds on everything I enjoyed in season 2. More wonderful recurring characters are added to the mix- Mr. Branca, Mr. Ambrose, Courtney, Henry, and a certain Regular Sized boy I relate to way too much- among others! The world of the show expanded with our first visit to Kingshead Island. And the show continued to grow creatively- hitting new highs in music with "Lindapendent Woman" and "Topsy". Plus, we finally got a full length season meaning we get our very first holiday episodes, including my all-time favorite Christmas episode! I also feel like the show had mostly conquered the tone/characterization issues that popped up in the first two seasons. Bob's occasionally still a bit more of a dick than in later seasons, but he gets called on it now ("The Unnatural")!

In my season 1 review I mentioned watching that season as it aired and thinking it had potential. In my season 2 post, I mentioned that at that point it had gotten good enough that I would've been upset at the time if it was cancelled. By season 3, it had become one of my favorite shows- one that I would encourage friends and family to check out. If people weren't watching the comic glory of "O.T." and "Topsy" they were missing out big time!

Some thoughts on particular episodes:

(Since these seasons are longer I will be writing about a smaller percentage of the episodes- feel free to let me know if you want my thoughts on an episode I don't discuss)

"Bob Fires the Kids": One of my favorite things about this rewatch is discovering what I think of as the "sleeper hits"- episodes I remember being fine but, upon rewatch, turn out to be even better than I remember. This episode was the sleeper hit for Season 3. The kids are exceptionally hilarious in this one- especially being upset about Bob firing them and their attempts at summer fun before they work on the farm. And everything Mickey does is hilarious- the calypso song he sings, his description of "Big", not knowing how to put his hands up, pretty much all his dialogue with Bob ("B.B. King has that disease" "shut up, Mickey"- that exchange always makes me laugh.) Also, "I knew you so briefly, you dead soap dog" is an all-time great eulogy title.

"Mutiny on the Windbreaker"- Probably one the show's zaniest episodes and I love it! Gene falling in love with a a manatee puppet, Louise getting the manicurist to make her claws, all the Bob and Duval interaction- it never fails to make me laugh!

"The Deepening"- "Our toaster is confused, too. It doesn't know why we put bagels in it." This episode could get a 5 for that line alone. Also, I love Mort's standup comedy attempts in here, and the Bob, Teddy, and Mort vs. the shark finale. I wish they revisited the idea of Bob as Block Captain and Hugo as Quadrant Captain in future episodes- stupid neighborhood power struggles make great comedy, and it could've been a great way to get Hugo in the show without threatening to shut down the restaurant.

"Tinarannosaurus Wrecks"- One of this season's two 3s; in an ask game I once said this was my least favorite episode of the show. I empathize with Tina waaaaaaay too much in it to find it particularly entertaining. The first time my mom tried to teach me to drive in an empty parking lot, I basically had a panic attack. I didn't hit anybody's car, but my mom gave up on teaching me and my dad was out of the picture, so I ended up not learning to drive until I was in my 20s. It's hard not to think of that when watching this episode. That said, Tina's Hell fantasy is funny, I enjoy the Mort as the Belchers' chauffeur subplot, and Bob Odenkirk is always good. But it's still my least favorite episode of this season.

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentle-Mannequins"- My favorite Christmas episode! "Mannequin comes to life" is one of those tropes/plots that always amuses me for some reason, and this episode has some hilarious fun with it. "He said he's not a murder mannequin" is an all-time classic line in my book. Also, the ending with Chet saying he has a loft in Manhattan and Bob's "What?!" is one of the best last lines of an episode. Always leaves me with a laugh.

"Broadcast Wagstaff School News"- If I do a top 25 episodes list at the end of this rewatch, this episode will almost certainly be on it. Both the main plot and the Gene-as-little-Bob subplot are hilarious! "Back to you, Andy!" "Back to you, Ollie!" is the ultimate Pesto Twins moment to me. We get some character development for Zeke (his family moves around a lot), Mr. Branca makes his debut, Tammy and Jocelyn team up for the first time- this is pretty significant episode in the development of the support players at Wagstaff- in addition to just being really freaking funny.

"O.T.: The Outside Toilet"- A hilarious episode with a great "Belcher kids and their friends have an adventure" bit (I live for those), and an emotionally resonant plot for Gene. And drunk Linda repeatedly changing her terms for taxi ("snacky", "snatchy") always cracks me up! One time, I was creating a dating profile on Bumble and I had recently rewatched this episode on Cartoon Netowrk, and in the "About Me" section of the profile I wrote "I will never get tired of that episode of Bob's Burgers where Jon Hamm plays a talking toilet". I'm still single (but that profile did actually lead to me meeting one of the more interesting people I've met through a dating app, so...)

"Topsy"- Pretty much generally acknowledged as a classic, so I'll just specifically mention how much I love Teddy in this one. The whole backstory he comes up for "Dr. Glen Wellness" and the line "What's it like out there? Are people still the same, with their funny ways?" is sooooooo good. Like, I need to think of an occasion to say that in real life.

"It Snakes A Village"- Meh. If you want me to care about a story, don't make it about Gloria and Al. Especially don't make it about their sex life.

"The Kids Run the Restaurant"- I don't watch this one a ton because I can kind of empathize with Bob's squeamishness re: blood, but it is pretty hilarious. I especially loved Gene's idea of reformatting the restaurant to serving chicken. This week, I managed to turn his line "Chicken on a treadmill, last offer" into a running joke with a coworker whose never seen the show, so that was fun.

"Boyz 4 Now"- One of the strongest candidates for the title of my favorite "Bob's Burgers" episode. After rewatching it, I really think it might be the episode I would use if I only had one episode to try to convince someone to watch the show. It's unfailingly hilarious yet also has a relatable emotional core. I'm a 42 year old man, and I still feel like Louise every time I have a crush. Louise and Tina stories and "Louise in denial of her feelings" stories are two of my favorite types of stories and this is both. Plus, the tablescaping subplot really shows the Belchers at their best- all getting really enthusiastic about something pretty weird that one of them is doing! Also, Boyz 4 Now and their songs are hilarious and a perfect parody of pop music. My ranking scale for this project only goes up to 5, but in reality this an A++++, 15 out of 10, no notes.

"Carpe Museum"- Another all-time classic. Putting aside it introducing my favorite recurring character for the moment it also has: some of the show's definitive Bob-Louise bonding moments; the introduction of Henry Haber; Linda joining a picket line and coming up with obscene chants; Frond and the museum lady flirting; Teddy's speech encouraging Linda to go to the museum...so much good stuff! But yeah, there's also the introduction of Regular Sized Rudy, the most "me as a kid" character in TV history. Oh, and that last scene with Bob, Louise, and Rudy cuddling on the school bus? Basically the cutest thing ever in my book. If I ever seem a bit too excited to talk about Roudise on here, please keep in mind that I've basically been shipping them since May 5, 2013, with relatively few people to talk about it with until I joined this silly website last year.

Random Thoughts (stuff that doesn't affect the ratings):

-It is so nice for the show to have the normal version of the theme song and opening credits! Yes, the changes are small, but they matter to me. The opening music and credits in the first two seasons are just not as fun and lively as the version from three onward- and it makes the show as a whole feel a bit more fun now.

-Gene in "Broadcast Wagstaff School News": "Quick! Comb me over! Trump me!" It's so weird when pre-2016 TV shows make jokes about that guy in the genre of "businessman"/TV personality with bad hair knowing now that he is a wannabe fascist dictator.

-"Things that are different in their first appearance" department: Regular Sized Rudy's voice is noticeably different in "Carpe Museum" (it was funny to hear that interview where Brian Huskey said he was told "do what you did at the table read" and didn't really remember what he did at the table read). Also, Mr. Branca's pants are a different color in his first appearance than they normally are- I'm assuming that his normal pants were damaged in an unfortunate incident with his work crowbar.

Well, much like the Deuce of Diamonds and Toad the Wet Sprocket, I gave you my magic and now I am going to disappear. (Not really, I'm just ending this post. I'll still be here. I just couldn't resist making another reference to that line)

[skribz202]

FIC TIME!!!!!

AU: Lost Hope

TW- None

Four years.

It didn't seem that long to Stanley Marsh. In fact, he didn't even realize that years were going by. It lust felt like he was waiting for something. But the question was, what?

Well actually, he knew exactly what he was waiting for. He was waiting for Wendy, Kyle, and to a lesser degree, Butters to all be found and to return home safely. Wendy was Stan's girlfriend, of course he would care if she went missing. The same applied for Kyle, as he was his boyfriend. The person he was least worried about was Butters. That kid had always said that he was going to 'run away someday'. Guess that day finally came.

His thoughts in his head filled the silence in the front room of Stan's house on the farm. He couldn't even remember why he was here. He looked over towards the kitchen. Oh yeah, he had invited Kenny round to hang out around his house because he wanted to take his mind off of the 4 year anniversary of Kyle and Wendy's disappearance and the 3 year anniversary of Butters'. Who know how long they were sitting in silence, but it felt comfortable for some reason.

The blonde took notice of the raven-ette's staring. He knew he had to say something to break the ice, but what? Kenny noticed Stan's Nintendo plugged into the TV and got an idea.

"Dude, you up for a round of Mario Kart?"

The question snapped Stanley out of his episode and made him think for a second. The thing that Kenny had asked him was so off topic, yet might actually have the power to cheer him up. He shrugged as a response and got up to turn on the console, then went to turn on the huge flat-screen TV that his dad had brought recently. He hated his dad's character, but the stuff he brought was always somewhat cool. The TV's logo flashed up for a second and then the switch logo came up. Stan took the joy-cons out from the console and gave one to Kenny while he kept the other one for himself. He selected the game and started to playfully chat with Kenny.

"You're gonna lose, poor-boy."

Kenny looked at Stan in a pretend offended way before sprouting "Oh yeah? Bring it on, emo." He smirked playfully.

Stan smiled at Kenny's comments. Sure, he missed Kyle and Wendy, but right now, he had Kenny. And having one friend was better than having none. After a few rounds, it became painfully obvious who was better at the game. Kenny had won nine times, while Stan had only won once. He couldn't tell if he was going easy on the blonde or not.

"Goddamn Marsh... you are shit at this game..." Kenny looked at Stan and chuckled lightly.

Stan then got an idea. He kicked Kenny in the stomach playfully, which cause him to loosen his grip on the controller. Kenny then attempted to hit Stan but he kept moving away from the blonde's attacks. The score was now Kenny 9, Stan 2.

"You dirty cheater!!! I was gonna win and you stopped me!!!"

"No I didn't! You're just a sore loser..." Stan nudged Kenny.

Kenny giggled slightly. "Says the one who kicked me."

The two boys looked at each other for a moment and then proceeded to erupt into laughter. They laughed for what felt like hours until they had started to come down from the high they were just on. The moment ended with Stan laying on Kenny's chest while gazing at a picture on the wall of him, Kenny, Kyle and Cartman.

"Hey Stan..." Kenny looked down at Stan's head, resting on his chest while his deep blue eyes tilted up to meet Kenny's unusually purple ones.

Kenny smiled at Stan and said with an understanding tone. "I'll always be here for you. If you ever need to talk, or anything. You know where to find me."

Stan smiled back softly. "I know dude. I know."

That day, Kenny and Stan grew closer to each other than they were before. They were no longer just friends, they were best friends.