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ihaveabuckyproblem · 1 year

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He Had It Comin’ | D.D.

Summary: Daryl once told the group that Merle wasn’t a r@pist, but no one could deny the way Merle looked at you.

Warnings: fem reader, sexual harassment, attempted r@pe, protective!Daryl, villain!Merle, set in Alexandria, (we’re just gonna act like Merle never died), death threats, triggering threats, crying, guns, pinning, etc.

You were groggy, things all confusing and hazy in your awakening state. The sunlight barely creeped through the curtains as they failed to cover all of the window, allowing the golden rays to shine into your face. The urge the open your eyes got the best of you, so you did, and immediately groaned when you were blinded by the sunlight.

After a couple more seconds, you were coherent. You didn’t have to turn to see that Daryl was sleeping peacefully beside you. He had one arm propped under his head, a force of habit he never was able to break away from. His other arm was holding onto you, feeling as though someone was about to pull you away from him at any given moment and he’d never see you again. It always amazed you how strong he was, even while he slept.

Moments like these brought a small smile to your lips as you wished you could stay here in this moment forever. Nothing brought you more peace, you were the safest you’ve been since the world fell and the dead rose.

You could feel Daryl’s steadily paced breaths warming your neck, his face nuzzled into it. You knew you’d have to get up soon, but everything in you was telling you not too. To stay here, wearing nothing but Daryl’s t-shirt and a pair of underwear, while your lover slept next to you as if there wasn’t a world outside of your shared room.

Suddenly, your peaceful thoughts and blissful mood were interrupted as your bedroom door is quite literally slammed open. You felt Daryl’s body tense immediately as you both shut up, Daryl’s hand already reaching for the knife under his pillow.

“Rise and shine!” As if seeing Merle standing there wasn’t enough, his voice rang loudly throughout the once quiet room. Immediately, Daryl relaxed, but rolled his eyes.

“Get outta here, man.” Daryl raised his voice at his older brother, throwing his hands up.

You hadn’t taken your eyes off the older Dixon. And he sure as hell hadn’t taken his eyes off you either, the way your bare legs looked exposed like that mind his eyes have no shame. You shuddered in disgust, immediately throwing the blanket over your body.

Daryl caught onto his brother’s creeping eyes and stood up out of bed, stomping over to Merle.

“Stop bargin’ in ‘ere, asshole. Yer creepin’ her out.” He growled at him, spitting his words out like venom. Merle smirked, finally tearing his gaze off you and looked at his little brother.

“I can’t help but look when my sweet baby brother got himself a nice piece of ass hanging around.” Merle spoke without shame. This made Daryl’s blood boil, he pushed Merle back and out of the room before slamming the door back shut. All you could hear was Merle’s descending laughter as he walked away.

You wanted to be shocked, like you didn’t expect it. Like this wasn’t normal. But, truth be told, Merle’s behavior towards you has always been that way. No matter how many times Daryl threatened to smash his skull in or take off his other hand, Merle said and did as he pleased when he pleased.

“‘M sorry bout him, he’s an ass.” Daryl muttered the last part to himself as he walked towards his dresser, intent on getting ready for the day.

“I think it was a mistake to let him move into the basement.” You muttered, letting your dislike for Merle seep into your tone.

Daryl didn’t say anything because he knew you were right. He hates the way Merle speaks to you, it isn’t okay and it makes you uncomfortable, and that’s enough for him to want to send Merle to an early grave. But, Merle was blood, the last family Daryl had.

“I’ll talk to ‘em.” Daryl reassures, sending you a “I promise” look.

Hours had passed and you hadn’t seen Daryl since this morning. After getting dressed and ready for the day, you parted and went your separate ways. Daryl had been positioned with Rick today on supply runs while you were on training with the kids.

The day was going great, the kids were going through their training wonderfully. Even Adam, the little boy who is scared of his own shadow, did wonderful knife work. It made you proud seeing how far they’ve come.

All that pride washed out of your system when you felt another presence. You didn’t move, standing there with your hands on your hips, observing the children. You felt uneasy, as if prying eyes were on you. And they were.

Merle had been passing by the training grounds when he spotted you. You have no idea how long he’d been there, just watching, eyes glued to your ass. He sexualized you worse than any man ever had and it was disgusting. You were a big girl and you knew how to fend for yourself, but having to fight against the living is the scariest thing you ever had to do.

As long as Merle kept his distance, you didn’t care. You knew how jealous he was that Daryl had you and he didn’t, but that wasn’t your problem. He needed to learn respect.

All of a sudden, you felt a quick pressure on your backside, causing you to stumble forward.

Did someone just smack my ass?

You whipped around faster than you could imagine only to be met with the serious yet mischievous stare of Merle. He had that uneasy smirk plastered on his face that sent chills down our spine.

Oh, your blood was boiling. The nerve he had to put his hands on you, his brother’s woman. You could hear the kids still continuing on with their training, oblivious to the creep in the area, but all you could see was red.

“Now, that’s a nice piece of-“ before you could let him finish his sentence, you reared back your first in seconds, giving it all your force as you felt your knuckles come in contact with his cheekbone.

Merle was on the ground in seconds, looking at you with pure shock. You didn’t hear the children practicing anymore, so you knew you had eyes on you. Your senses came back to you and that’s when you looked down at your red knuckles, instantly getting hit with the sharp pains throbbing in your hand. You gripped your wrist and hissed.

“You bitch!” Merle hollered, making your head snap up.

“Watch your tone or I’ll rock your shit again,” you snapped at him, coming down from your adrenaline high, “Get out of here. They’re just kids, they don’t need to see anything else.”

You didn’t give him the time of day to respond before you turned your back on him and walked away. He gathered himself and left, but not without griping and complaining, muttering a bunch of curses and threats under his breath.

An hour later and you couldn’t bear the pain in your hand, your fear is that it was broken. You made up some lame excuse and told the kids that training was done for the day. You made sure they all put their knives back into their holsters and told them all what a good job they did. After the last child made their way home, you realized the sun was on its way to setting. Letting out a sign, you gently grabbing your wrist, keeping your hand steady as you walked to Carol’s home.

“This looks bad, Y/N.” Carol said softly, having a delicate hold on your injured hand. You winced, trying to bite your tongue from the pain.

“You should see the other guy.” You joked, only, it didn’t come off as humorous as you hoped. Carol was quick to look at you, concerned, before reaching for her medical kit.

“This is from a fight?” She asked.

You scoffed at how funny that sounded to you. It was better than your joke.

“It was less of a fight and more of a promise.” You spoke truthfully. Not keeping the truth any longer, you informed Carol of what happened. She was upset for you, to say the least. Carol was your best friend outside from Daryl, so she already knew of your worries when it came to Merle. She didn’t like him either but she was always worrying about you living in the same house as him.

“Are you gonna tell Daryl?” She asked, putting the last piece of gauze tape on your wrapped hand.

Daryl.

You forgot about the fact that you would have to tell Daryl. He would question your hand… and you never lie to each other. It was an unspoken rule and brutal honesty was a big factor in your relationship.

You bit your lip nervously, how do you tell your boyfriend that his brother smacked your ass? Your thoughts became overwhelming, Daryl loves his brother. But he also loves you. What if he thinks you’re making him chose?

You mentally laughed to yourself at how ridiculous that sounds. After Carol finished your hand, you looked out the window, seeing nothing but the deep setting sun. All the light was almost drained from the sky, you could tell the moon was about to make its appearance.

Thanking Carol, you bid your goodbyes, knowing Daryl was probably home. After leaving Carol’s house, you tried not to think about the situation. It wasn’t worth the stress… Merle wasn’t worth the stress.

It wasn’t long before you reached you and Daryl’s home. The lights were off, meaning no one else was home. You sighed, dragging your feet up the stairs. He must be somewhere with Rick unpacking whatever supplies they brought back. You smiled to yourself thinking about the man you love.

You made your way into the house, kicking off your boots at the door. It was dark in the house, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the windows that you could make your way around. Your body felt so tired and your hand was starting to throb again. Why did you have to strike him with your most useful hand?

You shook it off and deposited your holster belt on the kitchen counter. The weight off your hips was relieving. You arched your back, giving it a good stretch.

Then, you felt something cold pressed against your head. Your body tenses almost instantly, your heart rate speeding up in seconds. You knew what that was. Anyone in Alexandria would recognize the feeling of a gun pressed to the back of their head.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Merle mocked, his voice flooding your ears.

For fucks sake.

“Bet that hand feels just about as good as my face, doesn’t it, honey?” He chuckled, taking a step closer. You closed your eyes and took and big breath in and out- you couldn’t show him your fear.

“What do you want, Merle?” You seethed. You were eyeing your holster belt that was only a couple feet away that held your knife.

“You know what I want baby.” His voice was low and hungry, now pressing himself against your back. As if you weren’t tense before, you were stiff as a door now. He moved the gun to press to the side of your head, grabbing your hip hard. Your winced in pain at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hip, but he had other plans than just that. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and slammed your body down onto the counter, making you bend over it as sharp groan leaving your lips.

This was happening. This was really happening. The sudden realization of the situation you were in made a wave of fear come crashing over you. All the jokes, the comments, the stares… This is what he was thinking about? Forcing himself on you over the counter?

No. This can’t happen, you weren’t gonna let this happen. Merle was ripping off your shirt when you came to your senses. This was enough for you to throw your head backwards and into his mouth, making him holler in pain. To your surprise, he even dropped the gun.

You stood up and wasted no time, you didn’t even look at him, you just bolted. You ran towards the door, but couldn’t even twist the handle before you were ripped away from it. You screamed in protest, but your vocal cords gave out when you felt a hard hit to your head.

You were pulled to your feet by your hair before being punched in the face again, immediately falling back down to the floor. You cried out in pain, kicking and screaming, refusing to go down without a fight.

“Go to hell!” You scream, spitting a large wad of saliva into Merle’s eyes. He jerked back and let you go, dropping you so he could wipe his eyes. You scrambled to your feet, but tripped over his large boot that he stuck out in front of you. Your body hit the floor hard and you landed on your already injured hand, causing a scream to ripple through your throat. You were silenced by a kick to the stomach, your eyes widening as the wind was knocked out of you, sending you into a coughing fit.

Having had enough of your resisting, Merle knelt down between your legs, flipping you on your back as he pulls you closer by your legs. You cry and try to fight back, but the harsh blows you endured did a number on your body.

Merle had his hands on the zipper of your jeans when the front door opened and shut. Both of your heads snapped to the doorway the same time Daryl looked up to see what was taking place.

Your face was bloody, your lip busted and your forehead gashed. You looked like you had been crying as you wheezed, still fighting for air. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen and your stomach was red, looking abused. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t say anything, your eyes said enough as they pleaded for help.

When Daryl finally laid his eyes upon his big brother, he was blinded with rage. All the color drained from his surroundings as all he saw was red. Merle didn’t look sorry, or guilty, or ashamed of what he was attempting to do- only disappointed that he didn’t finish the job.

Daryl didn’t utter a word as he took 3 big strides and rocked his fist into Merle’s jaw. There was so much force behind the punch that it made your body jerk.

Merle was pleading with his little brother, but Daryl didn’t care. No one lays a hand on his woman, no one lays their hand on you, and lives to see the next day.

Even through the tears in your eyes, you could see the blood bath Daryl was making of Merle’s face. With every colliding notion of Daryl’s fist to his brother’s face, Daryl would grunt, but never uttered a word. He never threatened Merle, never asked why, he simply wanted him dead.

And Daryl did just that. Daryl beat Merle until Merle stopped pleading, moving, and breathing. You looked on as Daryl stood over his dead brother’s body.

At the realization that Merle was dead, you finally broke. Your body shook in sobs and you covered your chest with your arms, holding yourself as you cried. The love of your life just killed his brother- and you felt guilty.

“Shit, Y/N-“ Daryl bolted over to you, kneeling down to your level. He pulled your body into his lap, holding you close.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Daryl.” You choked out, avoiding the lifeless body on the floor just a few feet away.

“Yer sorry?” Daryl questioned, “Y/N, he was hurtin’ ya.”

“He was your brother-“

“I don’t give a damn.” Daryl said sternly. You grew quiet at his words. Daryl gently cupped your face in his hands, making you look him in the eye.

“Yer the only one I care ‘bout. He had it comin’.”

Daryl reassuring words left your mind at ease, but, you were still shaken up. You and Daryl sat there for god only knows how long as you held onto him and cried. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and held you tight. He promised himself to never let you go.

#the walking dead daryl #Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon protective #daryl Dixon is daddy #the walking dead imagines #daryl dixon fanfiction #Merle is an ass #merledixon #twd #the walking dead

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happy74827 · 2 months

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The Lesson of Reality

[Rick Grimes and Child!Reader]

Synopsis: You accidentally get a lot more “experience” than what Rick had planned.

WC: 3080

Category: Slight Angst, S6!Rick (no TOWL spoilers) {TW — Gore, Violence, Walkers, Blood, Death}

There’s so many fics about Daryl being a father figure that it’s about time that Rick had his Joel Miller moment (especially now that all the episodes of The Ones Who Live have aired). So have fun with this cute Protective!Rick moment.

『••✎••��

They say when times are tough, people can rise to the occasion and show their true colors. For some, it's an opportunity to prove they can survive the hardships and come out the other side stronger, wiser, and more experienced. Then there is the scum of the earth. They will take any opportunity to steal, kill, and hurt others while they try and make it out unscathed.

For Rick, he wanted you to be part of the former. He always saw your potential to become a fighter—a survivor. Hell, you made it this long by yourself, after all. You had to learn and adapt to the world.

And given your age, it was a hard thing to accomplish.

Your innocence didn't help, either. On one hand, he wanted to keep you as innocent and childlike as possible for as long as he could. The world was already a shit-show. The least you could do was still have the mentality of the child you were supposed to be. Being only ten years old, it was the right thing to do.

But then he remembers what the world was like now. If he let you live with that naivety, it'd get you killed. And it didn’t matter how intelligent you were because even if it saved your ass a few times, it won’t forever.

The fact of the matter is you were going to be hurt no matter what. And you had to be prepared for it.

He had already shown his own son, Carl, the harshness of the new world. He didn't want to do it, but the world left him no choice. And he couldn't deny the boy the means to defend himself and his family.

And even if you weren’t his kid, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do the same for you.

He just needed the right time to teach you… to remind you that Alexandria isn’t the safest place on the planet.

The perfect time came when the Wolves attacked the group, and the gates were broken down.

After all the tragedy and loss, and Alexandria started to rebuild and strengthen their walls once again, Rick decided then was the time to toughen you up.

And thus, there you were, sitting on a tree stump as Rick stood in front of you, knife in hand, and Daryl beside him.

Eugene was also there, but he was standing to the side, watching with mild curiosity.

“You sure ‘bout this?” Daryl asked, looking from you to Rick, brows furrowed in concern. “It’s good takin' 'em outside the walls, but now? After everything that just happened, I mean? The people need yah right now, man. And the last thing we need is for the lil' squirt here to get hurt, too. Yer already lookin' rough as it is."

"I'll be fine, Daryl," Rick replied, his eyes not leaving yours. “Besides, I won’t be gone long. It’s just a quick look around. In and out, and then I'll be back. Two days, tops.”

Everyone around you seemed to be on edge, with the attack on the walls still fresh in their minds. But you?

Well, you were too busy staring at the shiny, shiny knife. Excitement shone in your eyes as your fingers twitched.

Truth be told, ever since Daryl and Aaron found you alone, wandering the woods and eating raw squirrel, and brought you to Alexandria, you felt as if something was missing.

You had never been the most social kid. You had the bare minimum amount of friends at school. None of them stuck around after you were pulled out of school. You had no close relatives that wanted you around. No father figure and the only motherly presence in your life was gone before you understood the new reality.

And while there were other kids in Alexandria, the older ones were already too busy trying to act like adults, and the younger ones were too immature. Sam, the kid that had once been closest to your age, was just a crybaby who didn’t know any better. He was scared of the dark and the idea of a walker. He never went outside the walls, so it was no wonder.

It was like living in a house full of strangers. They were all kind to you, but there was something missing.

But the Grimes family? Well, you couldn't help but feel more comfortable around them. Carl didn’t seem to like you, at least not at first, but ever since the “Wolves” attack and sudden loss of his eye, he was becoming nicer.

And then there was Rick. He was always kind, but after the incident, he became even kinder. More attentive and caring. Always checking on you, making sure you were safe and comfortable. Something about that night must've really changed him because he's been different since then.

And you liked it. You felt more comfortable around him. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was because he had saved you from a walker, or perhaps it was the way he talked to you, but you enjoyed his company.

You also loved destroying him in Gin Rummy. With the mix of his shocked expression and Michonne’s laughter, it was priceless.

Rick looked back at Daryl, who was still giving him a doubtful expression. But it wasn’t a no. So, Rick took it as a sign of agreement.

Daryl huffed and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to his right side. "Alright, alright. But if somethin' goes wrong, I won’t hesitate to tell ya I told ya so, yah hear me?”

Rick snorted. "Wouldn’t expect any less from you."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head, a smirk on his lips. He gave you one more glance, and then he turned and left.

With that out of the way, Rick focused on the task at hand. That’s when Eugene made his presence known. He was the man with the map, so to speak.

He came over and laid the map of the area on the ground in front of you.

"I've marked the areas of the woods I believe would be best suited for your scavenging mission. However, should your route take a turn, there are several alternate routes to get back. There are also a few marked areas with potential food sources, water, and the possibility of tools or other survival necessities.

"Thank you, Eugene. I appreciate this," Rick said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Eugene smiled and nodded.

"You're welcome, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, Rosita and I have an appointment at the gate to inspect and repair the damaged panels.” Eugene stood up and straightened his clothes, and then he was gone, heading back to the gate.

"Ready?" Rick asked. You looked up at him, smiling, and gave a nod. Soon, you were off into the rusty car that Daryl had brought from outside the walls.

You sat in the back seat, along with the bags semi-full of supplies and some extra weapons. Most of them belonged to Rick, however, so all you had was your old baseball cap.

And, of course, the old switchblade that Daryl gave you a while back.

For most of the scavenge trip, it was peaceful. The occasional walker showed up here and there, but for the most part, they were few and far between.

You found a lot of supplies. Food, medicine, clothes, and anything else you could think of. Rick also made sure to teach you how to pick locks, avoid traps, and a bunch of other skills.

But, of course, as things go, something has to go wrong.

A group of walkers, about twenty or so, showed up. It was no big deal. It was a lot, but nothing you couldn't handle.

You and Rick quickly got to work, taking them out one by one. You had gotten good with your knife, and with some pointers from Rick, you were practically a pro.

And then there was Rick, swinging his machete, stabbing and slashing his way through the herd. His face was a mix of focus and calm. It was impressive.

But the problem wasn’t the walkers. You were both doing fine. The problem was the aftermath. When the last walker fell to your feet, a gun rose and pointed at Rick's head.

And the guy holding the gun? Well, he looked like a psychopath. He had a smile that sent shivers down your spine, and it didn't help that the sun was starting to set.

"Hey there. Nice work taking out those rotters. But I'm going to have to ask you to hand over the bags and all the weapons you have. Oh, and I love that baseball cap. That'll be mine, too."

Well, Rick wanted you to toughen up. It seemed the universe had the same idea.

Somehow, you ended up behind Rick, shielded from the man and his gun. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the adrenaline kicked in. You didn't know what to do.

Rick didn't, either. Not when a group of armed men stepped out of the trees and aimed their guns at him. He didn't even have the time to reach for his machete.

Rick raised his hands, but his body was tense.

"Don't," was the only thing he said. His voice was stern, a growl hidden underneath. The man grinned and laughed.

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you," the man sneered.

Suddenly, all of them charged forward, grabbing the two of you. Your cap was taken, and Rick's machete was tossed away.

Despite the stronghold, Rick was able to kick and punch his way through his attackers. Even with the gun being pointed at him and the man pulling the trigger, he still managed to dodge the bullet and throw a few more punches.

The man growled, but the smile didn't leave his face.

"Feisty, aren't you? I love a challenge."

With a flick of his wrist, he knocked the butt of the gun against Rick's temple, sending him to the ground.

"Rick!" You yelled but were cut off when someone grabbed you by the hair and pulled, eliciting a scream from you.

"What a cutie," the man purred, grabbing you by the chin. You tried to pull away, but he held tight.

"How old are you, huh? Six? Seven? Eh, it doesn't matter. All kids are the same. Little shits who don't know their place."

You took that as a sign. You spat in his face. He didn't even flinch. In fact, the smile only widened. It pissed you off so much that you did the one thing that would definitely take a smile off his face.

You saw it done once, with a foot. A woman back in Alexandria seemed upset with a man, and she took her boot and kicked him right where you aimed your switchblade.

You weren't sure if it was a good idea, but it was the only thing you could think of.

So you did. And let me tell you, that was one of the few times you had ever heard someone scream so loud. He dropped you in an instant, unfortunately taking the knife with him.

“Son of a-!! You little-!!” Pain and anger laced the man's words as he clutched himself. You scrambled back, watching with wide eyes as he slowly recovered.

He didn’t dare try to crawl over to you, though. He didn’t trust his body to move.

Instead, he turned his attention to his side, where his small pistol had been tossed. He reached over and picked it up, pointing the barrel in your direction.

“I was gonna be nice… maybe have a little fun, but now?” He let out a painful chuckle. The smile was still there, but it was laced with anger. He groaned in pain, and his body shook.

Still, his hands remained steady.

"You little shit. I outta blow your head off. Let the rotters tear you apart, limb from limb. Would serve you right.”

Rick's heart stopped at that. The gun was aimed at you, and he was too far away. Even if he charged, he wouldn't make it in time.

There was no other option.

Just as the man squinted his eyes, about to pull the trigger, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. It made the man jump and look around, right in time to see one of his men fall to the ground.

"What the-?"

You turned and saw Rick tussling with another man, the one holding a gun, who was fighting for control.

The man who had his gun pointed at you took the opportunity to shoot it again, but you were prepared enough to duck out of the way.

The bullet went into a tree, and by the time the next one fired, he was the last one standing.

And boy, was he pissed. The bullet once again missed his target, but only barely.

That was enough, though. Just enough to get Rick to kick the gun out of his hands before pressing his boot right where your pocket knife was still sticking out.

Rick had the advantage, and it was obvious, with the screams of agony coming from the man. He was on his knees, clutching his crotch, and Rick had a firm hand on the back of his head, ready to bash his skull into the ground if need be.

But he didn't. He had other plans.

He pulled out your knife, only to stick it right back into place and then some.

"Ah! You crazy bas-!! Fuck!!"

"You’re going to listen to me. Real good, you’ hear?” Rick’s voice was dark, and the man nodded frantically.

"Grab his gun and come over here."

You did as you were told, picking up the pistol and slowly walking over. The man whimpered, tears staining his cheeks as blood seeped through his pants.

"You're gonna stand there and keep your gun pointed at his head while I tie his hands together. If he even twitches, shoot him."

You gulped but nodded. You kept your arms out, hands as steady as you could make them.

“You sick, twisted, fuckin' asshole. I'll fucking kill you!" The man snarled, his teeth gritting and his face contorted in pain.

"That's cute," Rick said. He was quick to tie the man's wrists together. Rick was just as quick to grab him and force him on his feet before kicking the back of his knees and sending him sprawling on the ground.

"Stay," Rick commanded him like a dog, and you couldn't help but smile a little at the man's pained, angry expression.

Rick quickly gathered the supplies and the bag, and then he was over to you, giving you a once-over.

"You hurt? Bleeding? Anything broken?"

"N-No, I'm okay," you replied, voice wavering a bit.

"Good," he breathed out, and you noticed he was shaking a bit, too. Not enough to notice at first glance, but enough to know that he was trying his hardest not to.

He took the gun from your hands gingerly, and then he was kneeling before the man.

"Who are you?"

The man was silent. Rick didn't wait long before aiming the gun at the man's right thigh.

"Let me rephrase that. Who are you? What's your name?"

"Fuck y—”

Rick shot the man in the thigh without any hesitation. The scream of pain made you jump.

"Try again. Who are you?"

"Aah!! Fuck!! I-I'm Dave, okay? My name's Dave!"

"Okay, Dave. Good. Now, why did you attack us? And don't think I'm above shooting you again, or worse, so be honest. I can tell when someone's lying to me."

"We were just passing through! Saw you and thought, 'Hey, easy pickings!' Didn't expect you to be the goddamn terminator!"

"Passing through to where?"

Silence. Rick sighed and shook his head, but before he could fire another shot, Dave finally caved.

"Back to c-camp. Please, we have family. Wives, children… We meant nothin' by it! We swear! We just-! We were hungry. We were starving! Please, have mercy!"

"Children? Like the one you just threatened to shoot in the head?" Rick growled. Dave flinched.

"N-no, I-"

“Where are they? Down that stream? I saw your tracks earlier. That was you, wasn’t it?"

Dave's silence spoke volumes. Rick looked back at you, and you were staring at the man, wide-eyed and fearful, not of him specifically, but of what Rick could do to him.

Rick took a deep breath and then turned back to Dave.

"How many are there?"

"T-Ten. Maybe eleven."

"Are they armed?"

"J-Just with knives and stuff."

"You got anything else? Any other guns or ammo?"

"N-No. Please, just let us go! We won't bother you again! Just don't hurt me."

Rick looked back at you again. Your eyes were still locked on the man, but you could feel his gaze. You looked up at him.

"With that stunt, you just pulled,” Rick stood up, his eyes still aligned with yours, but he wasn’t speaking to you. He was addressing Dave.

"I can’t take that chance.”

Then the bullet fired, and soon it was just you and Rick with a bunch of corpses.

He quickly holstered the gun and rushed to bags left on the ground.

"What about his family?” Your voice was shaken. You had never seen someone shot like that, point blank.

Rick sighed, pausing in his movements.

"They don’t exist.” Rick stood and turned, looking you in the eye. “I know people like him. If he had a family, they're already dead, or he killed them himself.”

You didn’t break eye contact, “and if you’re wrong? What then?"

Rick didn’t even blink. "Then I saved them a lot of suffering."

Rick didn't like doing this, killing people, taking life. He hated it, really.

But he would be damned if anyone ever laid a hand on his family or his people. Even if it meant getting a little bloody.

You had to turn away from him, from the intensity of his stare.

Rick sighed and walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You did good back there. Really good. The world it’s… It ain't kind to people. And even though I hope it never happens, you have to be prepared for anything. For anyone."

Rick squeezed your shoulder, and his voice was gentle.

"And, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

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small-sinclair · 5 months

Text

Flower Kisses

@sup-im-blue…some more Johnny fluff to satisfy you.

You where in the kitchen pealing potatoes when he came into the room. You heard Johnny’s boots click on the wood coming behind you. Before you knew it, he wrapped an arm around you and kisses your neck gently. In the other hand, he held up a small thing of flowers.

“For you, bunny,” he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. “Figured ya might like ‘em in our room.” You felt his smile press against your skin as he kisses you again. “Like them?”

You turned to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. Whenever you two are alone, he allowed his guard to drop and let himself be, well, human for a while. Before you, he was sharper than a knife and hard around the edges. Now, he melts like wax by your touch and wants nothing more than to fill that emptiness inside him.

“You always know how to make me smile,” you said, playing with the little curls. “I like them, thank you.” Leaning up, you placed a kiss on his scar. “Such a sweet little guy.”

“‘M not a lil’ guy,” he scoffs, but he has a smile on his face. He pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead, earning a giggle from you. “But I guess ‘ll be your lil’ guy.”

He brushes your hair away and held your cheek. He admires you like an untouched marble block. “My, my, lil’ bunny… you sure look lovely today.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say that everyday, Johnny.”

“And I mean it everyday.” He placed his hand on your cheek. “You’ll always look beautiful.”

You rested against his hand and closed your eyes. He holds you a bit closer as he littered your face with little kisses and praises. When his lips kisses yours, quick and fast, he came back for another, kissing you passionately. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing you again. “‘M the luckiest man alive.”

You picked up a flower held it close to the side of his face. “Sunflowers look good on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “I guess that’s why I didn’t see you in the fields when you caught me.”

He shrugs. “Well, you were easy to catch, y/n.” He placed his hands on your hips and came closer to you. He wasn’t firm when his thumbs made circles on your skin. He looked at you as if he was admiring a piece of art. “Best catch ever, actually.”

You placed the flower on the counter and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Am I, Johnny Sawyer?” There was a bit of dried blood in his hair and shirt, but it didn’t mind you. It used to, but not anymore.

He kisses your lips gently then your forehead. “Never lie to ya, darling.”

As much as you wanted to be in his arms longer, the front door opened and Cook shouted, “Johnny! Get out here! Got another round!”

Johnny clinched his jaw and he was about to snap back, but her hand on his chest calmed him. He take your hand and kisses the knuckles. “Be back soon, y/n. Get to the safe room, okay? Don’t want ya hurt.”

You nod and stood on your toes to kiss him then caressed his cheek. “Be careful, Johnny. I mean it.”

“I will—“

“Johnny! Ass out here, now!” Sissy shouted from the door. “Com’on!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m comin’!” He snapped over his shoulder. “I swear, I gotta do everythin’ ‘round here.” He kisses you one last time. “Be home soon. Get ta’hiding.” He steps away from you and started towards the door.

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as you turned and brought down a vase for the flowers.

#johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm johnny #johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer #tcm fanfic #slasher imagines #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher x reader

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gogogodzilla · 7 months

Text

day 24, primal play

arthur morgan x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking, dubcon but they're roleplaying, medium/low honor arthur, public sex, bondage kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

It was a stupid game, really, and you truly shouldn’t be away from camp for such a long time. You tried to justify your absence by robbing and hunting as much as you could. This week, however, you were the one being hunted.

The rules were simple. Arthur would give you a day head start as you got as far away from camp as you could, and he would track you and eventually ‘catch’ you. You were careful not to make this game last longer than a week. The need to ravish each other and the obligation to be at camp were both too great to deny yourselves for too long.

In the beginning, you’d leave Arthur little gifts for him to find along the way. They’d have clues as to where you were going or small tidbits of the things you wanted him to do to you. He always made sure to keep your fantastical writings and make them a reality.

It was the anticipation that kept you on edge for as long as the game lasted. You never knew whether the rustling you heard was just the wind or Arthur coming to claim his prize.

You knew it was risky to turn your back, even just for a moment. Your fears came true when the familiar cool metal of a blade was pressed against your throat. You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you.

“Now you oughta know better,” Arthur’s gravelly voice murmured against the shell of your ear. “Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone out here… Not with dangerous outlaws running ‘round these parts.”

He dragged his knife slowly down your front, tracing every little dip and curve of your chest. You were ashamed by just how much his actions riled you up. He wrapped his bicep around your neck, keeping you trapped against him, as his knife trailed across the tops of your thighs.

“You one of ‘em?” you questioned, pressing your ass into his groin.

You felt the scratchy fabric of his bandana brush against the side of your neck as he pressed his nose against you, breathing in your scent.

“Some would say that,” he hummed before sliding his knife into the holster on the back of his belt. Your body hummed with excitement and something… more.

The rope of his lasso hit the back of your thigh, and he removed it from his belt with his free hand. “Hands behind your back, darlin’,” he ordered, and you wriggled against his grasp, feigning to put up a fight.

He looped his foot around your ankle and brought you to kneel on the tall grass before pushing you to the ground. You thrashed in his grip as he settled his weight on your bottom half, and wrestled your hands behind your back, tying them together.

“What are you doing?” you whimpered, tugging against the rope that bound your wrists.

Arthur shimmied down to rest on the backs of your thighs and spread his hands across your ass, kneading the flesh there. “Little thing out here for the taking,” he murmured as his hands trailed up your sides and slid under you to grope at your breasts.

You bit your lip, attempting to stifle the whine that threatened to escape you at his touch. He lifted himself so he was hovering over you and pulled your hips up so your ass was in the air, inviting his touch.

He slid a hand across your calf and then under your skirt. His calloused fingers drug over the smooth skin of your thighs before moving to caress your clothed heat. You gasped as he teased you through the thin fabric of your undergarments.

The unsheathing of his knife caused your ears to prick up and you felt the familiar cool metal of the blade pressed against your neck once again.

“Gonna keep quiet for me, darlin’?” Arthur questioned as he used his free hand to tug your undergarments down your legs, leaving you bare for him. You gasped as the cool night air brushed against your cunt.

You nodded quickly, “Yes, anything you want.”

“That’s what I thought,” he hummed, satisfied with your answer.

At the clinking of his gun belt leaving his hips, you pressed your core against him whining at the feeling of the rough denim of his jeans against you. He was quick to free his weeping cock from his jeans. He stroked himself once and then twice before sliding his length between your folds, eliciting a breathy moan from you.

He leaned down so his chest was pressed against your back. “So wet for me, darlin’. You want this outlaw to use this pretty little cunt of yours?” he said as his breath fanned across your cheek, having pulled down his bandana at some point during your encounter.

He didn’t give you enough time to answer before he was pushing his cock inside you, inch by aching inch. You groaned at the way he stretched you, the sharp prick of him entering you had you squirming.

He pushed your thighs further apart with one of his knees as he began to rock his hips against yours.

“Shit, darlin’,” he hissed with the slow drag of hips leaving you a moaning mess under him. “Should tie you up more often.”

Each rut of his hips was deeper and harder, filling the open air with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and Arthur’s soft grunts. He moved his knife away from your neck and trailed it down your back, the tip of it leaving goosebumps in its wake. He moved to drag his knife over your clothed breasts, each thrust of his hips pressing the blade dangerously close to your skin.

With his free hand, Arthur reached around you to rub harsh circles around your clit. His pace was brutal, but you loved every second of it. He tossed his knife to the side, opting to grip your hip with one hand while the other stroked your clit.

A jolt ran through your being as a harsh smack lands across your ass, earning a yelp from you. Arthur was quick to run a soothing hand over the reddened flesh as his hips stuttered against yours.

“Good girl,” he grunted, and his praise went straight to your core.

He landed three more smacks across your ass before you were cumming harshly on his cock, squeezing him in a vice grip while your orgasm ripped through you. Each drag of his hips through your heat was bringing him closer to the brink as his pace increased. He came with a strangled groan as he filled you to the brim, his white hot load coating your walls.

You relished the feeling of him inside you. His cock twitched as he came down from his orgasm and his hips slowed. Within a few moments, he was pulling out of you and a whine was escaping your lips. You loved the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and covering your thighs, and Arthur groaned at the sight.

“So beautiful,” he hummed as his fingers danced across your thighs.

You rolled onto your back, grinning, “Think this was the quickest you’ve caught me.”

Arthur grunted, “I had Charles teach me a few tricks. Told him I needed some help hunting.”

You laughed as you looked up to the stars. You’d have to give Charles your thanks.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 arthur #reader insert #no y/n #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #arthur morgan smut

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dixondystopia · 3 months

Text

From the Forest: Part 3

Masterlist

~Ah yes, angst~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, typical Walking Dead violence and language, angry Daryl.

Word count: 2,345

You woke up with a start- heart pounding in your chest and a cold sweat drenching your whole body. You sat up, taking in your surroundings quickly. The only sound was of your heart beating in your ears. You swallowed a few breaths of the night air, listening to the cicadas and crickets in the forest that was little ways down the hill from you.

Just a nightmare… Simple as that...

…But it seemed so real... The way Randall gripped your arm- Hunter pulling out that knife and cutting your stitches away- pulling you flesh against them as you screamed-

Snap.

Your head turns to the right towards the sound of a stick snapping in the darkness.

It was a figure, and it took you a panicked moment to realize it was Daryl.

“Wha’ are you doin’ up?” He questioned, standing there.

You shake your head, letting out a slow, unfortunately shaky breath. “Just… Couldn’t sleep.”

Daryl nods, walking over to his own tent.

“Why are you up?” You ask, swallowing.

“Watch duty,” He says, opening his tent and stepping inside. I was a moment later when you hear a sigh, and he opens his tent door, sitting inside but facing you.

“Why can’t ya sleep? Seems like you’ve been sleepin’ just fine ‘till now,” Daryl asks, running a hand over his tired face.

You shrug. “Just…” You hesitate.

It was a long moment before either of you spoke.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout those men… Aren’t ya,” He reasons.

You nod, then realize he couldn’t see that in the darkness, so you speak. “Yeah…”

Daryl waits a moment. This felt so awkward. He wasn’t the kind of person to openly talk, at least not willingly. The only reason he was talking with you know, was because he felt like you were his responsibility. He had saved you, brought you back here, but everyone else was weary of you. Shane downright hated you for no reason other than you were an outsider. You were Daryl’s responsibility now, at least while you were here.

“They didn’t… Do anything to ya, did they? Other than the cut on yer arm..?.”

“No… They didn’t… They didn’t actually do anything. Certainly tried though.”

Daryl grunts. “Basterds.”

You nod. “Basterds is right.”

Silents. Daryl chewed on the inside of his lip as the awkward feeling set in.

“Ya should get some sleep,” Daryl mutters.

You sigh, running a hand down your face. “I know.”

Silents.

Daryl sighed. “Then why don’t ya sleep.”

You shake your head. “It’s not… I just…”

Daryl watches you in silence.

Another silent moment between the two of you, only accompanied by the sounds of crickets. A slight breeze blew some strands of your hair around.

When Daryl spoke it was like an addition to the sounds of the forest.

“Stop thinkin’ ‘bout them. Stop thinkin’ ‘bout what almost happened,” Daryl said, his tone low and accent thick.

You think about it for a moment, not saying anything.

“This camp is safe… Shane might be an asshole and some of tha women are a pain to be around, but none of ‘em will hurt ya.”

You wait a moment more. “That’s good to know… Thanks…”

Daryl grunted, turning around and going into his own tent.

As he closes the tent flap, you hear him speak one more time.

“...If you ever see those men again… Best warn ‘em what Daryl Dixon’s gonna do to ‘em…”

“Hey, have you seen Daryl around?” You asked. It had been a couple of days later, your stitches healing smoothly and the people growing to accept you. Andrea, Beth, Maggie, and Glenn all liked you, and Carol was starting to think of you as her friend. At the very least a form of peace or distraction for the chaos and the empty feeling of missing her daughter. You personally thought of Daryl as your friend, too, though he wasn’t big on displaying anything and would never admit it out loud.

Carol, who was the first person you had found, paused. She was hanging laundry up on the closeline.

“I don’t think so…” She said, her voice naturally quiet. “Not sense this morning, when he went out looking for Sophia.”

You gave her a smile. “Thanks! Will you let me know when he comes back up? I’m going to ask him if he’ll teach me how to shoot… I have to leave as soon as this thing is fully healed…” You hold up your wrapped arm. It was getting much better, and the infection Hershel had been worried about was minor, easily kicked out with a few doses of medication, and you were well on your way to a recovery. “...And I need to be able to defend myself.”

Carol returned the small smile. “Sure, I can do that… We have other people around here who would be willing to teach you, though.”

You nodded, considering this, still smiling a little. “Yeah, but I think I'll ask Daryl first… I think he’s the only one who would be willing to teach an ‘outsider’.”

“Oh don’t worry too much about that outsider nonsense... Everyone around here just gets worked up by each other so easily… If Daryl is too busy, don’t be afraid to ask Rick or T-dog… I think Glenn could probably show you something, too,” Carol said, hanging a shirt up on the clothesline.

You give her a smile. “Thanks, I will ask one of them if he’s too busy…”

It was getting later and later in the day, and Daryl still wasn’t back. You had gone to Carol again, chatting with her a little while you waited for him to return. You were outside where everyone could keep an eye on you, so they didn’t mind you talking with her within the camp. Though, the only people still worried about letting you in were Shane and Lori, and a few others who had their own concerns.

There was a commotion at the edge of camp- Rick, T-dog, Shane, and Glenn all ran out to something at the edge of the forest. You and Carol were alarmed, but by the time you made it to the edge of the camp to see what the problem was, Andrea fired a shot from the top of the camper.

You looked up at her as she smiled, seeming proud of herself, all until Rick started panicking and yelling- the men dragging the body up.

As they got closer, you and Carol recognized the body at the same time: a bloody and wounded Daryl Dixon…

It had taken a few days for him to heal. He had explained to everyone about finding Sophia’s doll, the horse getting spooked and bucking him off, and that was pretty much it. Andrea had apologized, he and Carol chatted, and you had said hello a few times, but otherwise he hadn’t really talked to anyone. He seemed distant. Bitter. As soon as he was healed up enough, he moved his tent farther away from anyone.

Daryl was giving you the cold shoulder too: even though you were the only one who could get full length conversations out of him.

Daryl’s thoughts were somewhere else entirely; Merle. That’s all Daryl could think about. Merle: his brother who had been handcuffed to a roof- left for dead and forced to cut off his own hand. Merle, Daryl’s only brother, who he trusted… Merle, who had spoken to him in the woods, telling him all about what the other campers really thought about him. What Rick thought. How T-dog locked his only family to a roof. It was burning him up inside. He couldn't talk to anyone without thinking of that moment on the cliff; when Merle was there when no one else was, even if he hadn’t truly helped.

Of course Daryl knew it was all in his head, but every word of it was true. They left his brother behind and didn’t even care. He believed every word. He believed Merle.

You were walking back to your tent after reading some books with Beth, seeing Daryl a few feet away, fixing something on his crossbow.

You watched him for a moment before approaching.

“Hi,” You said, sitting down in the grass across from him.

He looked up at you before continuing to work at the metal hinges, tightening something that had loosened.

You continued watching his fingers move as he tightened the bolts, the two of you sitting in silence.

After a moment, he put down his bow on his lap looking at you annoyed. “Wha’ do you want.”

You shrug. “Just coming to chat.”

“Don’t wanna chat.”

“I noticed.”

“Then why are ya still botherin’ me.”

You thought about it. Why were you trying? He made it more than clear over the past few days that he doesn’t want you around, so why bother…

“What happened out there?” You ask, pulling yourself out of your own thoughts.

Daryl looked up at you again, brows frowned. “I already explained it,” he grunted, “Damn horse bucked me off and I fell.”

“And?”

You watched him. “You’ve been pushing everyone out since it happened.”

Daryl glared at you before continuing to work on his bow. “I don’t got time for their shit.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Did someone say something to you? Shane or Rick or…?”

Daryl shot you a look. “They didn’t say nothin’. Mind your own damn business.”

“Then why are you so upset? You’ve been so bitter- moving your tent, not talking to anyone-”

He stood up, swinging his crossbow over his shoulder. “I don’t got time to go into my feelin’s with some girl who doesn’t know jack,” He spat.

You stood up too as he started to walk away, heading out towards the woods.

“I saw the scars you know,” You say, just loud enough for him to hear at his distance.

He stopped in his tracks before turning his head, glaring over his shoulder at you.

“When Hershel was fixing up your wound… I don’t think anyone else noticed.”

He continued to stare you down over his shoulder.

“People have hurt you… Haven’t they…”

Daryl turned around, walking towards you a few steps.

“Listen ta me, little girl, I don’t got time for none of your shit. You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me. Go mind your own damn business and leave me the fuck alone,” He hissed, at you before turning back around and storming off into the woods.

You stood there, expressionless, for longer than you should have…

You were in your tent, trying to kick the Georgia heat by laying on the damp tarped floor. With your back against the cool surface you sighed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you traced shapes on the ground.

It had been two days since Daryl had yelled at you, and the two of you hadn’t spoken.

Shane was insistent that you were to leave tomorrow, even though Carol and Dale had insisted that you were a part of the group now.

It was your last day on the farm… And you were spending it alone, laying on the floor.

“Hey, Girly,” A gruff voice spoke from the entrance to your tent. You jumped, having not heard him approach. You looked at Daryl, sitting up on your elbow.

“What?” You asked, running a hand through your hair out of habit.

“Shane’s makin’ ya leave tomorrow, ain’t he,” Daryl said, squatting down to look into the tent.

You nodded. “Yeah… Rick is mutual about it. Carol and Beth want me to stay. Shane downright hates me.”

Daryl gave a cut nod. “Carol said ya wanted to learn how ta use a gun.”

You thought back. You had mentioned to Carol that you were looking for Daryl to learn, but when he came back he was injured and in no condition to teach. You had forgotten about it after the fight you and Daryl had.

Nodding, you speak. “Yeah, I was looking for you the other day before you got injured.”

He nods. “You still wanna learn?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, I have to before I leave.”

Daryl grunted, leaving your tent and walking off. “Com’on then…”

You hurriedly followed him. “Wait- you're willing to teach me?”

Daryl grunted again, walking over to his tent, grabbing out two pistols from a bag. He had to talk Dale into letting him have them, but easily won him over by saying he was going to teach you to shoot before you left.

“Headin’ into the grounds Shane was usin’ to teach Andrea n’ Carl,” Daryl said, walking off towards the woods.

You followed him at a distance. You trusted him… But after that fight…

You stopped walking to the woods with him.

He noticed, and turned around watching you. “Change yer mind?”

You didn’t say anything, fingers scrunching and un-scrunching a little.

He watched you for a while before the realization hit him. Last time you were invited into the woods by some guys…

Daryl walked up to you, holding one of the guns out in his hands, keeping eye contact with you.

He opened the ammo compartment, displaying that it had bullets inside.

“It’s loaded with ‘bout 10 bullets,” He closed it again with a click, hitting the hilt of the gun with his palm to make sure it stayed in place.

“Basics. Don’t point it at anything’ you aren't gonna shoot,” He said. “Shoot ta mean it, waste ah ammo otherwise.”

He held it out to you keeping eye contact with a firm expression.

You looked into his piercing blue eyes for a while before looking down at his hand and taking the gun slowly.

Daryl kept eye contact. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya… Not that kinda person.”

You held the gun in your hands for a while, looking down at it, before looking back up at him. You gave him a small smile and a nod.

The two of you headed out to the forest, and this time, you were actually going to learn how to shoot by someone you were growing to trust…

~Hope you're enjoying the series!~

Masterlist

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #norman reedus #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #walking dead #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

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allzelemonz · 1 year

Text

Alone: Kieran Duffy X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Non-Con elements, near sexual encounters Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, sexual assault, demeaning laguage, threats of violence, threats of sexual violence, beating, torture, blood, death, established relationship with Kieran Summary: In a job gone wrong, you and Kieran are taken by a group of O’Driscolls that are very interested in you.

They took you during a job. They showed up out of nowhere, apparently wanting the take from the stage you were robbing with Sean, Kieran, and John. You and Kieran didn’t get away, your horses got too spooked and ran off. John tried, Sean did too, but the O’Driscolls came in greater numbers. The last thing John said was that they’d come back for you. You know he will. John’s a good man, a man of his word, and Sean isn’t one to take a loss lightly. But, for now, you and Kieran are alone and surrounded by the enemy.

The O’Driscolls get off their horses and execute the people you just robbed. One of them recognises Kieran, leering over him as words fail the stable boy. He tries to reason, beg, anything, but the O’Driscolls just laugh and jeer. They hold you at gunpoint, circling like vultures.

“I bet Colm would love it if we brought a traitor back.” One of them, tall with greasy red hair, says. “The Van Der Linde too.”

“This one’s probably got a price on his head.” Another one, an Irishman judging by the accent, says as he grips your shoulder and shoves you to your knees.

“Everybody loves a good hangin’.” A blonde one says, he looks younger than the rest.

“No, no, no.” A brunette comes close, squatting down to your level. “He could be a lot more fun if we keep him.”

He reaches out and tugs your mask down. A sickly smile spreads over his face and he hums.

“No!” Kieran shouts.

The red head hits him in the stomach with the end of his rifle. Kieran falls down, clutching his stomach.

The brunette chuckles. “Soft as ever, Duffy. Ya sweet on him?”

“Please.” Kieran begs, his arms wrapped around his injured stomach. “I’ll do whatever ya want, Quinn.”

The brunette, Quinn, runs his finger along your jaw. When you try to pull away you feel a gun pressed to your back. You freeze as the man behind you laughs. Quinn grips your chin, making you look at him.

“He seems too tough for ya, Duffy.” Quinn glances over at Kieran. “More my speed.”

“Quinn, please.” Kieran begs again.

The redhead lands another blow, this time to Kieran’s side. He recoils, crying out in pain.

“Let’s take ‘em back.” The man behind you says, the Irish one. “We can have a lot more fun with ‘em back at camp.”

The gun he holds digs into your back, sending shivers up your spine. Quinn turns back to you and his eyes rake over your face, a much worse feeling than the gun at your back. His grip on your jaw tightens and his thumb runs over your bottom lip as he fixes his gaze on your mouth.

“Oh, we’ll have a lot of fun with you.”

You meet his stare and it makes him smile. Kieran groans in pain as they get him up on a horse, tied and all. Quinn takes you, tying only your hands and fixing you on his lap as best he can with a knife pressed to your stomach. The redhead gets tired of Kieran’s whining and hits him so hard in the head that he blacks out. You’re forced to endure the ride, the unsettling feeling of a particularly stiff appendage rubbing against you the whole way.

Their camp is small, only a few tents out in the woods. No one is there waiting, so it must just be your attackers staying there. Four men, all armed when you aren’t. Kieran is out cold, not much help. But John is coming back, Charles is a great tracker, Arthur will fight to the death to get his friends back, Dutch would never let the O’Driscolls win. You’re going to be fine. You have to be.

“Rory, get the traitor tied somewhere uncomfortable.” Quinn orders the redhead as they slow to enter camp. “Conor, ride on and tell Colm what we caught.”

The young blond nods and takes off as fast as his horse will go.

“Colin, come help with this one.” Quinn presses his knife harder against your shirt, digging the tip in enough to start a small tear.

The Irishman, Colin, dismounts his horse and helps Quinn get you on the ground. He holds you by your arm, one hand on your neck to direct you into their small camp. He pushes you to your knees by the fire and you can feel an ache beginning after you land on them. A few feet away is Kieran, tied to the base of a tall tree. He’s still out cold, his head lulled forward.

“Colm will want ta kill him.” Quinn says, kneeling next to you.

His back is pressed to your arm and he leans in close to your face. One of his hands rests on your waist while the other runs over the fabric of your shirt. You stay still, staring at the fire in front of you.

“Maybe if you’re as good as I think ya are, I can convince Colm ta spare ya.” His breath hits your cheek as he speaks.

“Let Kieran go.” You say, eyes glancing over to the man in question.

“Why would I do that?”

You swallow your nerves. “I’ll do what you want if you let him go.”

Quinn chuckles, pressing his head against yours. “I don’t exactly need cooperation, boy.”

“It’d be a lot more fun though.” You try to make your voice steady.

“He’s fuckin’ with ya, Quinn.” Colin says, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “He wants his sweetheart out a’ the line a’ fire.”

Quinn inhales, taking in your scent and sighing. “I know.”

You shiver involuntarily, unable to hide the reaction.

“Just fuck him so we can turn him in for the bounty.” Colin mutters, glaring at Quinn.

“I will.” Quinn’s hand slowly starts to unbutton your shirt. “We got time.”

Rory appears from the tree line and sits beside Colin, but watching intently as Quinn undoes the final button on your shirt.

“Maybe we should wake Duffy up.” Rory says. “Make him watch.”

Quinn chuckles against your skin. “I like that idea. What do ya think, Van Der Linde?”

You glance up at Kieran. “I told you. Let him go and you can have whatever you want.”

“I don’t like bein’ lied to, boy.” Quinn mutters as his hand wanders over your bare chest. “It don’t matter what I do. You’re gonna take it, you’re gonna scream my name loud enough to wake little Duffy there, and he’s gonna sit there and watch.”

Colin and Rory laugh, evil smiles plastered on their faces. When Quinn’s hand travels down your stomach you put all of your body weight into shoving him. He falls to the ground and you roll over him, grabbing at his knife in the process. Colin draws his gun, but you’re already on your feet and running into the trees.

“Shit!” Quinn yells. “Get him, now, boys!”

You run downhill, your hands tied behind you. You turn the knife as much as you can to get it under the ropes, stopping behind a tree to free yourself.

“Here, here, Van Der Linde.” Colin says in a sing-song. “Quinn ain’t gonna be so forgivin’ now.”

You get your hands undone, letting the rope drop to the ground. You press you back to the tree and clutch the knife tightly, listening for Colin’s footsteps. A few yards away you hear who must be Rory wandering around as well. Then Colin breaks a stick as he steps just a few feet away. You peek around the tree and spot him, his back is to you and he’s walking slowly. You crouch, walking slowly, the knife flipping in your hand to be ready. You grab him, slitting his throat, and he falls to the ground. His gun is buried in the leaves, so you dig it out and check the bullets.

“Not so fast, Van Der Linde.” Rory says.

You stand and turn slowly, hands in the air, one holding Colin’s gun loosely.

Rory smiles evilly. “Let’s go. Would want Quinn ta turn ta Duffy, would ya?”

“Fuck you.”

“Duffy ain’t really his type, but he’d do in a pinch.” Rory reaches his hand out. “Gun, please.”

You lower the gun to his hand and he flips it on you, nodding towards camp. You walk, hands raised, back to the fire. Quinn kneels there, holding his hands above the flames. Kieran is awake now, a bruise forming on his cheek and a cut bleeding through his shirt.

“Bastard got Colin.” Rory says, kicking the back of your knee and making you fall on the ground.

“Colin was the nice one.” Quinn muses. “He woulda just wanted yer hands.”

Rory kicks your side and you fall to the ground, groaning in pain.

“Quinn, please!” Kieran begs, straining against the rope that binds him to the tree.

“I thought I told you ta shut it, Duffy!” Quinn yells, standing and walking to him. “The more ya talk, the more I do to your little sweetheart over there.”

Kieran holds the glare from Quinn, then he glances at you in pain on the ground and he submits, looking at the ground.

Quinn chuckles. “At least yer well behaved. More than I can say for your whore.”

Rory grabs you by the back of your collar, pulling you up to your knees. You meet Kieran’s eyes for a moment before Quinn steps in between you. His hand grips your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“You behave and I’ll let Duffy keep his fingers.”

He tugs at your hair, his other hand reaching for the fastenings for his pants. Then a loud crack fills your ears and Quinn falls to the ground, his blood spraying on you slightly. Rory releases you, leaving his rifle, but he falls too. A shot to the head taking him out just as it did Quinn. You breathe clearly for the first time in a while as a smile comes over your face.

“You boys alright?” Dutch asks, riding in on The Count like an angel.

Kieran sighs in relief. “Oh, Mister Van Der Linde, thank you. Oh my God, Mister, thank you.”

“I’m the one that shot ‘em.” Micah mutters, walking over and cutting Kieran from the tree.

“We ran into a few more of ‘em on the way.” Dutch says, dismounting. “The boys are dealing with them.”

Dutch softly helps you to your feet, his eyes look over you and he understands what was about to happen. Kieran runs to you once Micah’s fully freed him. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you as tight as he can. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a muffled sob. You hold him tightly, closing your eyes and just feeling the safety of him holding you.

“We are gonna get Colm for this, boys.” Dutch says. “On that, you have my word.”

You meet Dutch’s eyes over Kieran’s shoulder and give him a silent thanks. You press a kiss to Kieran’s head and stroke his hair to sooth him. His grip on you is tight and it hurts you both because of your injuries, but neither of you seem to care.

“I hate ta interrupt.” Micah calls. “But they wasn’t the only O’Driscolls around here.”

You let Kieran go, giving him a kiss before joining Dutch on his horse. Kieran joins Micah and you’re both handed a spare gun for the ride home. They came back for you, they found you. You’re not alone.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy x male reader

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ejzah · 8 months

Text

A/N: And it’s been months since I visited this story. My deepest apologies.

****

Ain’t It A Kick in the Head, Part 10

It was nearly two hours later when Kensi’s phone buzzed with Deeks’ now familiar number. She jabbed the talk button, hissing into the speaker,

“Where the hell have you been? You left hours ago, and I’ve been holed up in this office the entire time.”

Deeks only response was a heavy breath, stilted breath.

“Deeks?”

“Hey,” murmured hoarsely, a wealth of pain in the single word. Kensi immediately straightened, anger disappearing in a moment.

“Deeks, what’s wrong?”

“I need you to come to my apartment,” he said, ignoring her question. “But make sure no one follows you.”

“Deeks,” she repeated, this time in warning.

“Please, just do it for me, Kensi.” Something about him using her real name instead of “Bella”, brought home that something was terribly wrong more so than his strained voice or heavy breathing.

“Ok, I’ll leave right now,” Kensi decided. She started gathering up the papers, shoving them into a spare envelope while she spoke.

“Thanks,” Deeks sighed, and a moment later the line disconnected.

Fortunately, Deeks had shown her a side entrance when they came today, so she’d be less likely to encounter Frankie. She still hurried down the hallway once she was out of the office. It probably should have annoyed her more that she was avoiding a man she could easily fight given the chance, but Deeks needed her more than she needed to soothe her ego.

***

It took 24 minutes to reach Deeks’ apartment, which seemed incredibly long when Kensi didn’t know his condition.

When she reached the door, she used the key Deeks had given her on their third meeting. She’d never expected to need it, but now was grateful; she imagined Deeks laying unconscious in a pool of blood from a gunshot wound.

“Max?” she called out as she stopped in the entryway.

“In here,” he responded, and she followed his voice to the sitting area, relieved that he was at least cognizant. It took her a second to notice Deeks’ hand hanging over the back of the leather couch in the middle of the room.

“Max,” she repeated, rushing around to the front. She gasped softly when she saw Deeks. Her imagination hadn’t been that far off. His torso was bare, shirt stuffed against his lower right side. “Oh my god, what happened?” She gaped at the pieces of bloodied gauze strewn about from an apparent attempt to deal with the injury himself.

Deeks stared at up her through pain-glazed eyes; he tried to shift around to his back, but apparently the pain was too much, and he gave up with a groan. “A bunch of guys jumped me after I left Big Mike’s,” he told her. “One of ‘em had a really big knife.”

“Why didn’t you go to a hospital?” Kensi asked.

“Guys like me don’t really go to hospitals of our own volition. Kind of ruins our street cred.”

“I can’t believe you’re joking right now.”

He tilted his head, unmoved the anger directed his way.

“I’m kind of in a lot of pain right now,” he said. He glanced down at his side, closing his eyes briefly. “Help me.”

Her anger wilted against earnest plea, and she grabbed the rifled through first aid kit until she found fresh gauze, liquid stitches, bandages, and antibiotic cream, and pulled on a pair of gloves.

Wincing in anticipation, she peeled back the now crimson shirt covering Deeks’ right side. She’d known it would be bad, but couldn’t have prepared herself for the deep gash running from his middle rib, toward his stomach.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said. Normally she wasn’t squeamish; something about the amount of blood, and the severity of the wound, made her decidedly nauseated.

“Yes, you can. I told you I can’t go to the hospital.”

“I haven’t been trained for this level of trauma.”

Deeks closed his eyes again, turning his face away. “I have faith in you.”

Kensi shook her head, silently cursing him even as she marveled at his implicit trust.

Her hands shook ever so slightly as she grabbed a fresh wad of gauze and pressed it tightly to the wound, using a second to wipe away blood that hadn’t adhered to his skin yet.

“Ahaaaha. Oh, I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off of me,” Deeks hissed. When she chanced a glance at him, she saw his jaw was clamped tightly enough the veins in his neck bulged slightly while his skin had taken on an uncharacteristically pale tone.

Kensi figured it was a good sign that he was still joking though. If he went completely silent, then she should worry.

Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she tried to keep the gauze in place and apply a bandage. A fine sheet of sweat had broken out across Deeks’ skin, and she desperately cast around for something to distract him.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“Frankie sent them,” Deeks explained around a shallow breath.

“What?” Kensi stilled, forgetting about the bandage for a second. “Why?”

“Well, the guy who was still conscious, wasn’t too forthcoming, but from what I gathered, Frankie isn’t a fan of my recent business choices. He think I’ve been too lenient, didn’t like me bringing you into the operation.”

“And defended me after I punched him,” Kensi whispered numbly. Deeks had warned her about Frankie holding a grudge. She just hadn’t anticipated the backlash hitting Deeks instead.

“Hey, don’t blame yourself. Frankie’s useful, but he also has a vindictive streak that outweighs any supposed loyalty,” Deeks said, gently covering her wrist with his hands. Kensi followed the gesture, seeing blood staining his skin again, and quickly resumed her work before she let emotion take over. “I bet he had this in the works for a while, and this all just gave him the push he needed to put it onto action.”

“Where are they now? The men who attacked you.” By now, Frankie would surely have heard that his attempt at mutiny wasn’t successful.

“Passed out in an alley,” Deeks answered. “But I got a friend who tipped off the police about them. They should be in holding. Or the hospital, depending on how hard I hit them.”

“Well, that’s a small comfort,” Kensi said wryly, smoothing down the last edge of a bandage. The wound look a little better covered, but not much. “I think that’s the best it’s going to get.”

Deeks scrunched his neck to examine her work, briefly running his fingers along the bandage. He nodded once when he was done, dropping his head back down on the couch with a muted thud. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She watched him shift around in discomfort for several moment. Suddenly it hit her that he could have easily died, and she needed to get out of there before she didn’t something unforgivable. Like cry or faint.

Kensi headed off in the direction of the kitchen, making a beeline for the large sink, where she scrubbed at her hands until the were clean and stung. When she was done, bent low over the sink, breathing deeply several time. It helped just enough to get her emotions and anxiety in check.

Feeling more in control again, Kensi rummaged through the cabinets in search of glasses and pain reliever. Armed with two glasses of water and ibuprofen, she returned to Deeks.

He was flopped bonelessly across the couch, one arm braced over his injured side, the slight movement of his chest assuring her he was just asleep . She set the water and pills on a small table, figuring he needed the rest, and would wake up when he needed them.

She had the ridiculous thought that he looked younger and more innocent this way. Sleep erased the hardened edge, the weight of the fake life he lived in the name of duty.

“You gonna keep staring at me?” he murmured, and she jumped back, bumping into the table.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Just resting my eyes.” He grasped the back of the couch, straining to pull himself up. Kensi automatically reached out to help him, wrapping and a hand around his bicep and her arm around his waist to support him. He settled back with a labored sigh. Kensi didn’t immediately let go, frowning at how cool his skin felt.

“We need to schedule the meet for tonight or tomorrow at the latest,” he said abruptly.

“You’re kidding.” When he didn’t respond, she released him, crossing her arms. “Deeks, you can’t go out there. Two minutes ago you were bleeding out on the couch.” She pointed to his torso, as though he might have forgotten about it.

“If we don’t now, word will get out that Frankie’s plan didn’t work and he’ll work against us. Or, someone will start putting pieces together when his thugs don’t show up.”

“Won’t it seem suspicious or desperate if we push for a meet so quickly?” she asked, hoping to dissuade him with reason.

“It might,” he agreed. “That’s a risk we’ll have to take. If we don’t, I’m almost certain we’ll lose our chance.”

“Fine, then I’m going with,” Kensi said firmly.

“You don’t have to. It’s almost certainly going to be dangerous. I won’t put that on you.”

“Do you really think I’d let you go meet a bunch of high level drug dealers while you’re in this state?” Deeks raised an eyebrow and her and she glared right back, not giving in. “I’m going with.”

“Ok, then,” Deeks relented with a small grin.

***

A/N: Oh, we have so much happening in this one! Have I mentioned I’m not a doctor?

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #au #undercover Deeks #undercover Kensi #competent Deeks #Deeks whump #worried Kensi #ain’t it a kick in the head #part 10 #ejzah fanfiction

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i--am--the--sheep · 4 months

Text

If I Don't Sleep (I'll Never Dream) [ch 4]

read fic warnings and find other chapters here

Rei’s sleep started dreamless. He wishes it would have stayed that way.

It starts with memories of the dogs. Rei always had cared for animals. It was his father’s first lesson – don’t care for anything but yourself. He hears them before he sees them, snapping and growling on their chains. They were raised to fight – aggression sewn into their sinews and soaked into their bones by a life of torture. They were alive for the same reason as he was: violence.

His father takes him outside, pressing a knife into his palm. He’s silent, but the look in his eyes is clear. Only one of you will leave this field. The dream turns into a flurry of pain, and blood, and gore, before the scene suddenly changes with the loud ringing of a gunshot. He failed.

Things shift. He’s staring down at Kazuki’s mutilated, bullet-riddled body. He’s covered with blood. The gun is in his hand. This is his fault, he’s killed the one person he cares about. He can hear a child crying – Miri?

“Papa?” He looks up, sees her cowering in the corner, weeping and spattered in crimson. He can feel himself reach to her, hold her, comfort her, something, and she yelps. Her arms are over her head, shielding herself as best she can. “Please, papa,” is all she can cry out before her form fades and dissolves into dust.

Things shift again. He’s trapped, backed into a corner. His father, his boss, is stalking towards him. Suddenly, Rei is seventeen again, and he’s just fucked up his first big kill. He’s certain that this is it. This is the time the beating goes too far, the knife goes to deep, the blood flows too readily. And he’s terrified. He’s back to being some scared kid. He’s sure everything and everyone is out to hurt him – the world, his father, himself.

“Rei!” His father’s voice is overwhelming, an all-encompassing storm of rage and wrath. He gets close. “Rei! Rei!”

He wakes with a start. Someone is shaking his shoulders. “Jesus, are you okay?”

It’s sheer instinct. One hand is around his assailant’s throat in a heartbeat, the other reaching for the weapons stowed beneath his pillow. He doesn’t find one.

“Hey, hey, its me!” A familiar voice barks at him, and Rei’s eyes focus in, his heart thudding in his chest. Kazuki. His hand recoils.

“You’re in my room, remember? I don’t keep stuff there.” Kazuki nods to where Rei’s hand is still under the pillow, grasping for some sort of knife or gun. “They’re usually in the nightstand. Moved ‘em though, you’re jumpy as all hell.”

Rei’s pulse slows, and he grumbles an apology that Kazuki wasn’t concerned about receiving.

“Nah, my fault for waking you. You were shaking pretty badly, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Rei knows Kazuki doesn’t usually pry unless he needs to. He could shrug, give absolutely no answer, and the two of them would return to whatever they were doing. But that seems hurtful, after all Kazuki has done, after what they’ve been through. Rei doesn’t think he cares about being hurtful. Maybe he does with Kazuki.

On the other end, talking, sharing, seems daunting. It makes his stomach churn. Things like this stir up such a strong reaction from him. He figures its probably because the other times he brought anything like this up at his father’s house, he’d get beaten within an inch of his life. His bones ache just thinking about it.

He ponders for a moment, thinking.

“Nightmare.” Just enough information to make Kazuki happy, not so much that Rei would throw up. Kazuki hummed in acknowledgement. Silence stretches on for a bit before Kazuki pipes up.

“Can I touch?” He always asks. Rei sometimes nods. Today is one of those sometimes.

Kazuki moves behind him, and Rei expects him to maybe untangle the knots in his hair, or dig his thumbs into the knots in his shoulders. He’s not expecting to have his partner draped over his back, chin resting on Rei’s shoulder. Kazuki’s all lean muscle, heavy on his spine, and it feels nice. Grounding.

“Kyu said Miri’s been asking for you. Wants to know when she can come play Mario Kart.”

Rei huffs out half a snicker, bittersweet at the thought of her. “Does… Does she know?”

“Kyu told her you got hurt in an accident. That’s all.”

“...When will she be back?”

Kazuki barks out a laugh. “What, don’t tell me you miss that little devil?”

Most days, he would have backpedaled. Taken it back, sworn he didn’t care to keep up appearances. But its just them, and Kazuki’s weight on his back feels safe.

“Maybe a little.” Kazuki doesn’t tease or goad, just nods.

“Me too. Kyu won’t let her stay for too long. He gets sick of making smoothies and shakes for her. Just… Just need to make sure everyone is okay first.”

Rei knows that’s mostly about him. He doesn’t ever feel okay. Hasn’t for a while. Doesn’t really feel okay now.

It does feel a little bit better than usual though, here in Kazuki’s arms.

#buddy daddies #kazuki x rei #rei suwa #sheep fics #suwa rei #kazurei #kurusu kazuki #kazuki kurusu

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veritable-trash · 2 years

Text

The He-Man Chronicles

hahahahahahahah i'm staring at this gif very very normally thank you

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Words: 7.9K(hah i love him your honor)

Prompt this be a request babayyyyy:

[ GRADUAL ] for receiver to slowly undress sender, caressing and kissing every part of them they expose.

[ APPROACH ] our muses haven’t been intimate yet and receiver finally broaches the subject to sender.

Warning: 18+ it's smut, PiV, fingering, oral F and M receiving, Eddie talks a lot(yes that is a warning), drug use so like can be seen as under the influence non-con if you squint, let me know if i missed anything i am still new at this whole thing heh :)))

A/N: OK YALL THIS IS DIRECTLY FROM MY REQUESTS, a most beautiful anonymous individual dropped this off as a gift to me and my brain went WILD. I am very sorry to anon if this isn't the character you had in mind since it is my first time writing for him, but I just got like mad inspired so if you want me to write this prompt with a different character or if you didn't like my interpretation you go ahead and tell me and i will very much get on fixing that just please allow me this one sin 😌 it's been a minute since i've been this obsessed with an individual and eddie has just got me wrapped around his little fingers now doesn't he!!! me and eddie have kinda similar hair and both love weed and i think that's hot and i really wanted to get this done before the new episodes drop because i am TERRIFIED of what is to become of my baby. ya literally freaking out, obsessed, want to die, love him so so so so so so so much who am i. again giving this anon the biggest hugs and most aggressive forehead kisses literally ever because they gave me the inspiration to do this and be slutty and emotional on the MAIN! i LOVE them for allowing me this! so please enjoy send me all your eddie disgusting beautiful delicious thoughts and good luck to all my eddie girlies, tonight we ride 🤠

ok apologies i know this is already way too fucking long kill me with a butter knife but i have to point to @chaseadrian and @inklore who are doing GODS WORK with their eddie writing please i beg go read, it is so good ok sorry i'll shut up please enjoy!

also minimally edited i had to stop looking at it so forgive me please 🫠

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

It always started like this.

Eddie brought the weed, you rolled the joints, and then cartoons for hours.

You and him were so simple, like a river flowing to sea, a course already predetermined and known that it was hard picturing life without him sometimes.

You’d been rolling together side by side since 6th grade english where the two of you made your teacher cry and then spent all of detention, heads together, trying to come up with the greatest revenge plot of all time. She’d been a menace and you and Eddie had had enough of it. But the revenge never came to be and that didn’t really end up mattering. You’d found your best friend.

He was the confidant you’d always wanted. The person who never shied away from any conversation. Eddie wanted to talk and he wanted to listen and he just wanted to know every fucking thing about you. His eyes read you inside and out like a creased and worn out paperback, soft from how often those eyes have traversed those pages. You were soft on him.

Long story short, that was how vengeful 6th graders turned blood bonded confidants turned into the drug dealing freaks of Hawkins High.

Somewhere along the way you both realized weed made shit a hell of a lot more fun, and a little extra pocket money never hurt. Like everything else between you two it had become your thing. You and Eddie had spent hours one fateful summer perfecting your joint rolling skills, or as Eddie would call it “doobie time” and the rest was history.

You’d never minded being labeled the freaks, never minded that the jocks were incessant about their hatred of you two, Hellfire, honestly anyone that wasn’t like them. Because Eddie was always right at your side ready to knock em down a few pegs and then erase any hurt with his goofy smile that made everything feel just a bit lighter.

Even though you didn’t get DnD and refused to play, he’d always made sure you felt some level of included. He’d nicknamed you Fae because you reminded him of some faerie princess he’d written into a campaign they’d been doing at the time and even gave you an honorary Hellfire t-shirt. The shirt had smelled like him and it had made you swoon but you refused to read into it any of the sweet gestures and delicious smelling shirts. That was just how Eddie was.

Eddie was your rock and you were his safe place to land and in so many ways it was hard for either of you to spend too much time apart. And so you had made a promise early in your friendship that Friday nights were claimed for the two of you. A ritual of sorts to let go of the bullshit of the week and just be. You and Eddie and joints and He-Man.

“Honestly speaking, He-Man is my ideal man. I mean the bob, the bangs, the voice? It’s just a package deal that cannot be ignored.”

Eddie snorted beside you, his lips turning up as his heavy lidded eyes scan your face. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Just looking at you.

His lips are wrapped around joint number 3? 4? And it’s hard not to zero in on his mouth, the softness and fullness of his lips sinking your mind somewhere warm and molten. You aren’t even sure what time it is anymore and your eyes are half open at best, but somehow the fog clouding the space behind your eyes clears just enough for Eddie to be the only thing visible. Your only real focus.

“Honestly speaking Fae, no one asked if you thought He-Man was the ideal man, but the fact that you just willingly gave up that information is something more pertinent for us to discuss. Please tell me, what is it about the most powerful man in the universe that truly speaks to you?”

“Oh shut up. You’re all jokes and honestly most of them are awful, sorry to break the news.”

You shove at his shoulder and ever the drama queen, he falls back, sprawling out on the carpet, hands clutching at his heart. His curls fan out around him, twisting and curving, framing his head like a halo, and there’s that edge to his eyes, a sort of golden fire that has been coming to the surface more and more when you’re together. It’s a sharpness of something secret that you can’t seem to place.

“Ah! You wound me! Sticks and stones and words all hurt me the same you know.”

“Eddie I swear to god you are a fucking nutcase sometimes.”

Your mind is swimming in the liquid brown of his eyes as he pears up at you from the floor. His laugh caresses your ears as smoke curls from his lips and he blinds you. He looks so soft, every part of him, his eyes, his hair, his t-shirt, seem gilded in a warm honey glow you’re fairly certain is due to the drugs curling around your synapses. But even if it is the weed, you’re still fairly certain curling up into his side would feel like drowning in warm, cottony sheets fresh out the dryer. It has your head spinning and hazy with feelings you haven’t yet defined in your head. Probably still too afraid to figure it out, but holy shit is he beautiful.

“Wait what did you say?”

Oh fuck. Did you seriously just fucking say that out loud?

Shit. This is exactly why you stick to two joints, max. As soon as you went past that your tongue gets heavy with all the words you’re always too anxious to say and proceeds to catapult every whim that flits across your brain out into the world for anyone and everyone to hear.

And today, delightfully, it got to be Eddie.

“I was just- I just- Well what do you think I said?”

“Well this is a tough one, you know with you sitting so far away from me and all, but I believe I heard you say something about me being beautiful? Possibly? Maybe?”

He props himself up on his elbows and scoots closer to you eyes brimming with question and hope? It’s hard to tell with the smoke filling the air, your lungs, your brain, but you almost feel like of everything, hope is the clearest. His tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip, his teeth just catching onto the pillowy flesh there, and you have to focus on intaking breath or you’re fairly certain you’d forget to breath all together with how he’s looking at you.

“Uh well yes I-uh ya I mean come on of course you’re beautiful I mean you have to know that! The cheerleaders that buy weed from us pretend that you’re a gross freak but I heard Kristina in calc talking about how she thinks you’ve got a lot going on down stairs and how she’d really really like to find out. You know, everyone loves a bad boy.”

“Do you?”

“Wait wha- what?”

“Do you like a bad boy?”

That gives you pause. He’s completely ignored the fact that Kristina Taylor wants to see his dick and that just didn’t really track in your brain. She was probably the hottest girl at Hawkins and all the guys in Hellfire wax very poetically, at length, about how nice her tits are on at least a daily basis. Except Eddie, but you’d chalked that up to his assumed “manners”, and that he was just being respectful and hiding his lust.

And to make matters even more confusing his eyes are shifting, darkening to more of a chestnut brown with shades of need that you have a sneaking suspicion have zero to do with Kristina. Because he’s looking directly at you again, like he has been doing quite a lot these past few weeks, and it’s making you sweat.

You can feel your pulse in your fingertips as they press harder into the ground as if you’re trying to steady yourself from this giant shift happening between you and Eddie in his bedroom.

With He-Man on in the background.

It was all very discombobulating.

“I mean well ya I guess so, but don’t flatter yourself E. I’ve seen you shoot milk out your nose honestly too many times to count and that concerns me. Who knows, it could be a health condition! Maybe you have the weirdest milk related illness of all time, really gonna beat all those losers who’re lactose intolerant. They’ve got nothing on you.”

Eddie stays quiet even as his lips twitch up again into a soft grin. If there’s one thing Eddie is a pro at it’s seeing straight through your bullshit diversions.

But he doesn’t call you out on it this time. He just pushes himself the rest of the way up scooting himself closer to where you’re sprawled out against the side of his bed. There’s a precision to his movements tinged with caution as if he’s afraid to spook you.

It’s then you realize how your shoulders have hitched up and your fingers are curled into the carpet. Knuckles white and bones groaning, you must look like a corned animal.

He finally bridges the gap between you, his hand coming up, the joint still burning between his fingertips, smoke curling and twining around itself up towards the ceiling. Your fingers brush at the exchange and you see his chest twitch with a stuttered breath at the same time you hear your own catch. It feels fizzy and light as it skitters up your arm over your shoulder and down your spine. You have to restrain the shiver.

Eddie looks no less affected.

Your lips wrap around the filter of the joint and you inhale deep, needing something to distract from the headiness filling the air threatening to pull you under. It fails almost instantly.

The smoke floating from between your lips seems to only pull Eddie in closer, his eyes dropping down to watch the smoke curl from between your lips up into your nose. His lips part and you can see how his chest expands on the inhale, as if he’s trying to suck the smoke swirling out of your lungs straight into his.

You quickly inhale another puff and then pass it back to him, avoiding his touch at all costs and averting your eyes from his gaze that feels like its stripping you bare. Eddie’s rings glint in the low light of his bedroom as he taps the ash off the joint and stubs it out into the ashtray. His head turns back to look at you and he slowly slides himself to sit in front of your crossed legs, his frame now blocking out He-Man, the only distraction you had left.

“Hey. Hey Fae what’s going on up there? I know this weeds strong but you’re leaving me. Where ya going?”

There’s a sort of stillness wrapping itself around your ankles and crawling up your calves. You can see it in his eyes, he wants you to ask, ask what this tension, this thickness filling the air is all about. And he wants to tell you, desperately, wants to break the dam and let everything spill out all over the floor so it’s finally not suffocating you both.

If only you'd ask.

So you decide you will.

“E what’s going on here? I can’t with you looking at me like that. And don’t even ask me what that means because if I knew then I would tell you but I have no fucking clue and everything feels so confusing and fuck you weren’t kidding this weed is really, really strong.”

The words are tumbling, skittering, bursting from between your lips and it takes everything you have to suck in a breath and stop the word vomit from steering into territory that was much too scary to verbalize. Though it feels like it’s already sprinting in that direction, like a runaway train that has no chance of stopping, the only thing left to do is get ready for the carnage.

You peak up at him from beneath your lashes and his eyes are open with an aching vulnerability as if he’s letting you look into his soul. As if he really, really wants you too dive into his eyes and see it all.

His hand wraps around your ankle and the sear of his warm skin interwoven with the biting chill of his silver rings shoots up your leg and settles in your core, hot and torrid. You can barely breath, trying fruitlessly to hide your gasps for breath from Eddie’s ever watchful eyes.

The two of you haven’t been able to break eye contact and the temperature of the room starts to climb quickly like a kettle about to boil over. He drags your foot into his lap, his other hand curling around the juncture of your knee, squeezing just so and your sharp intake of breath sounds like a bomb in the hush of the room. His eyes flicker down to your mouth and they darken to a shade that has your stomach twisting itself into knots.

God this is too much, he still hasn’t spoken and you think you might start melting into the carpet if he doesn’t do something fast. What that something is you’re not totally sure but you’d love to find out, and soon.

“Fae, I ca- I’m about to say something really stupid but here goes nothing. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you. I just- Fuck do I want you and you’re my best friend but also the person I think about when my hand is wrapped around my dick, which sorry that's way too much information but honestly it’s just really hard to think around you sometimes when I want you in every way humanly possible and it feels like you’re always just out of reach.”

“But you also have to know, have to believe me when I say if you don’t feel the same, I will never bring this up again. Ever again. But I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not when you’re looking at me like that, and I can see how you’re out of breath just like me and it feels like you might be losing it just as bad.”

Your vision seems to glaze over and then flicker back as he talks, the gravel and need in his tone setting off all of your synapses and sends you flying into a deep-rooted, aching lust. The feelings and want that have been simmering under layers and layers of fear and dismissal, now breaking through the cracks and fissures Eddie’s proclamations have unleashed upon all your safeguards. You feel like a volcano about to explode, like you’re this close from ripping yourself apart with everything building and building and building within you.

He falls into you like his words are propelling him forward, the momentum shoving you both into a new chapter. His chest pushes up against the front of your leg, his chin hovering just above your knee, and you can feel his chest rising and falling through his soft cotton t-shirt, the heat of him seeping into your bare skin. His eyes are flitting across your features, eyes, nose, lips, chin, cheeks, and your face heats with his focus and attention.

He’s so close you can almost count his eyelashes, see the the lines in his lips where they’ve gotten slightly chapped. One of his crossed legs stretches open to rest against yours, and now you’re caged in on both sides, his hand still gripping your knee, squeezing every so often so you don’t forget that he’s there.

You feel like you might just lunge at him at any moment, like a rubber band stretched till it’s breaking point. One more word from him and you might just throw yourself off the cliff edge, you’re not totally sure if you’d even want to stop yourself.

“I- well I guess I might be feeling the same way, and honestly speaking, I’ve been thinking about you too. Or whatever.”

The spell finally breaks and your eyes drop instantly to the hand wrapped around your knee, his eyes finally getting the better of you. You’d just said so much, it all feels too much, and yet you don’t want to stop, because for some reason it seems like everything might turn out the way your heart really, truly wants it to.

But you’re absolutely fucking terrified nonetheless.

Eddie stays silent, but he moves almost instantly, the hand around your ankle gliding up your calf before sliding around your neck, into your hair, and his thumb catches under your chin, lifting till you’re forced to look at him.

It’s like sparklers are going off in your belly, chest, head, cunt. He’s looking at you as if he wants to inhale you like the smoke that’s been rolling around between you two all night. You feel consumed by him and this moment and the smirk crossed with a timid smile laced across his lips makes your heart squeeze with a want that’s starting to twist into something almost feral.

“You know what I think is really crazy? The fact that you know I like you, and I know you like me, and even though all I can think about sometimes is kissing you, I still haven’t kissed you yet. That just seems like a real shame if you ask me.”

His voice has dropped into a gravelly rumble, though still lilting in the way that Eddie is always joking, always light. Always your Eddie. His eyes are one and the same, a darkening brown, yet twinkling with an excitement and want that sends goosebumps skittering across your flesh.

He’s leaning in closer now, and his hand shifts, thumb stroking at your cheek as his fingers press into the skin behind your ear and further into your hair. You instinctively lean into his hand, skull pushing back against his fingers, wanting him to card them deeper into your hair and pull.

“E, please kiss me.”

“Dang, if you just gave me a second I was abou-“

Your lips touch down on his, cupping the plush of his lower lip, muffling the words leaving his tongue. You both freeze for a breath, until Eddie groans from somewhere deep in his chest and everything gets set ablaze.

His fingers card into your hair, pressing into your scalp, as his hand wraps around your knee and tugs your leg out to wrap around his hip. His body crowds into you, and your other leg naturally unfolds, winding around him till you have to shift up and into his lap.

It all happens in what feels like a heart beat and now you’re sitting nose to nose with the boy of possibly your dreams, and he’s looking at you with such softness and such reverence that it leaves you spinning.

Emotions are painted across his features and especially his eyes that are peering into yours, trying to read every one of your thoughts. And you want him to. You want him to see the yearning, the lust, the need. You would be willing to strip yourself bare for him and he for you.

His hands squeeze at your waist, pinky fingers hooking under the seam of your shirt to press into your bare skin, and the touch swirls around your body, spreading through you until your hips can’t help but roll into his and—

Your eyes lock and you can feel him. Pressing up against the zipper of his jeans, into the cradle of your thighs, and even through the two layers of denim, you can fell him. It sends your thoughts tumbling down, down, down to the molten center of you that’s been burning and churning since you two light up that first joint.

Eddie sucks in a breath, lips pressed shut, and a light whine cracks in the back of his throat as if it’s been torn out of him. His nose bumps into yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek as his lips move to your jaw, down to your neck.

A keen rises to the tip of your tongue as he licks at your pulse, thick and hot, teeth nipping softly in its wake. His hands are slowly starting to guide your hips, rocking you forward and back over the zipper of his jeans. Every pass over your clit leaves you whimpering out into the humid air and your fingers tangle in his hair, trying fruitlessly to ground yourself in the silky strands.

His breath puffs out against your throat as he bumps his forehead into your jaw affectionately, and you can feel the press of his teeth as he smiles into your throat.

“Fae, baby, I wa-want to see all of you, is that ok? Let me undress you, I want to make you feel so good. Please.”

He’s begging you, tone needy and gruff, as he nuzzles into your neck like some love sick puppy and you can’t feel, think, smell, taste, hear anything but him.

“God, yes, please, please yes.”

Your lips latch onto each others again, a burning intensity singeing the edges of every torrid press of lips. The damn has finally broken and you’re both frantic to feel. An all consuming ache to be skin to skin, devouring you both.

His hands slide around your thighs, settling down to cup your ass as he shifts up onto his knees, lifting you those final few inches to sit you up on his bed. The shift in angle leaves him gazing up at you if only for a breath, his eyes welling with reverence, as if praying before an altar. You can feel how hot you are between your legs and you wonder if he can feel it too. Feel how you’re burning up for him from the inside out.

His lips draw back a breath, dancing over yours, just brushing past, only to pull away every time you desperately try to fall into him. A dizziness is filling your head, leaving you dazed, eyes glazing over with how he’s leaving you on a razors edge. Touching you, but not quite, every pass just shy of the touch you’re truly aching for.

“Baby lift your arms for me ok? Let me see you.”

He ducks his head down as his fingers catch on the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging the fabric up the skin of your sides, yours ribs, fingers pressing in every so often, as though memorizing the flesh. His mouth follows shortly behind, imprinting the shape of his kisses onto the skin next to your belly button, over your ribs, onto your sternum, between your collarbones, your neck, and finally returning to your lips, your shirt disappearing somewhere far behind him though you seriously couldn’t care less.

You stay there, tongues tangling and swirling around each other, a small moment of slowness breaking through the chaos. Your nails catch against the back of his shirt and he helps you pull it off of him, every movement syrupy and soft. It’s like you’re drowning in this little blink of time.

His bare skin is a furnace under your touch, seeping warmth into your chest and heart, heating you slowly until all of a sudden you’re burning up for more. You whine onto his tongue as your fingers twist a little tighter into his hair, showing him you need more because you’ve definitely lost the ability to speak, words now a foreign concept.

“Fuck, you need more ya? Is that what you want Fae? You want more?”

All you can manage is a few mhms as his lips suck hard at your throat, stinging, surely leaving a mark. But you want him to mark you, dripping at the thought of waking up tomorrow to small purple kisses littering your skin.

You grind your hips against his chest, seeking some sort of friction before you self combust. You’re gasping against his neck as he continues his assault on yours. The heat licking up your spine is driving you almost to madness, the pulse between your thighs incessant and all consuming an almost roar in your ears. You think he might be saying something, whispering it against your skin but your brain is too focused on everything else you can’t be sure. It’s like you’ve decided to ignore everything other than the need to feel him stretching you open, pressing you down onto his bed and letting you feel every inch of him.

Eddie’s whines coats your lips and you finally notice that he’s moving too, hips grinding into the side of his bed trying desperately to find some kind of relief. Your nails claw at his back as you try and get him even closer, the steady rock of his body into yours lighting you up like a pyre.

Your lips can barely touch, pants and gasps and moans breaking the contact with every breath, the slow roll of both of your hips pushing you both higher and higher towards something blisteringly white-hot.

His fingers latch onto the button of your jean shorts, popping it open and pulling down the zipper, hands spreading out to wrap around your hips pawing at the fabric, trying desperately to rid you of the offending material. His lips settle against the valley between your tits and press, pushing you back till you’re sprawled out on the bed under him. You lift your hips and you both are finally able to wrestle the denim down your legs and off into the ether that is the rest of Eddie’s bedroom.

You could be in Mordor right now and you would have no fucking clue.

“You are so fucking beautiful, you know that? Like holy shit, are you beautiful.”

Eddie’s lips press into the swell of each of your tits, licking at the edge of your bra playfully.

“May I?”

“You may.”

It shatters you in the best way that even though you both are about to fuck like there is no tomorrow, are finally going to act on feelings that have been growing for years, you’re still just two idiots. The grins and giggles you share so tender and yet so depraved.

Your bra follows the exact same path as your shirt and pants, the ether consuming it or maybe it’s burning in Mount Doom.

Eddie’s hands cup your breasts, thumbs just barely brushing over your nipples, and your stomach jolts. He settles your quivering muscles with a kiss just below your ribs and then he sucks your breasts into his mouth.

The heat of his wet tongue barrels through you, hips canting up against him, a groan crackling and breaking out of your chest. The blunt edges of his teeth dig into your flesh and you are definitely about to loose your mind. No doubt about it because he is driving you up the wall with every stroke of his tongue.

“Eddie, fuck how does this feel so good? How are you so good at this? You have so much explaining to- fu-uck.”

Another drag of his teeth over your other nipple has you shutting up instantly. You don’t care how many people he’s fucked, who they are, where they are, fuck em because Eddie’s currently shredding you apart and it’s tortured bliss.

His laugh is muffled as he sucks another mark onto your flesh, and the vibration of it ripples over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He continues his assault, switching between tongue, lips and teeth, never letting you settle on one sensation for too long. Your cunt clenches around nothing, heightening your need to have him filling you, zeroing your brain in on the need to feel his cock in your hands, in your mouth, in your cunt.

Your hands drop from the death grip you’ve had on his hair, and Eddie has the audacity to whine, sinking his teeth in just a tad bit harder in protest, but you can’t not feel him. You think you might die if you don’t wrap your hands around his cock this very instant.

Eddie’s grunt of surprise is quickly followed by a long deep groan as your hands finally snake their way down to palm at his length through his jeans. His hips stutter as he rocks into your palm, finally letting you feel what will soon be splitting you in half. The flip in control is thrilling, and you squeeze him just a bit harder, drinking up the noises pouring from his lips.

Your teeth drag down his throat in time with you undoing his jeans, and Eddie is frantic as he stands on shaky legs to kick them off, sending them once again into the volcano.

He’s mesmerizing, hair falling around his face as he looks down at you, eyes a dark mahogany with how worked up he is for you, a shy smile gracing his beautiful features, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the tent in his boxers and the spot of wetness darkening the navy cotton. He almost looks bashful but then he sees your tongue wet your bottom lip and how your hooded eyes are drinking in the sight of him and the nervousness dissipates.

“Fae, you know you could take a picture, I heard it lasts longer.”

Your eyes snap up to his and he’s clearly joking but there’s a slight crease between his brow and you can tell he’s about two seconds away from snapping, nearly panting above you.

“Eddie, if you wanted me to suck your dick all you had to do was ask.”

He groans, fingers and rings tangling into your hair as he angles your head up to look at him. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, forcing them to part and your tongue brushes against his skin. He stares straight into your eyes as your hands wrap around the waistband of his boxers and pull down, your eyes dropping to watch as he finally gets laid bare before you.

You whine, it just can’t be helped because his cock is fucking fantastic. Never did you think you’d ever describe a mans cock as fantastic but here you were doing exactly that. He’s thick but not overwhelmingly so, just a little past the point of comfort, enough that you know you’ll feel him tomorrow and ache for him all over again.

A bead of precum leaks from the tip and without a thought you lean down and lick it into your mouth. Eddie’s whole body twitches, rings biting into your scalp as he tries to keep his eyes open to watch you taste him for the first time.

He tastes fucking divine.

“Fuck, Fae you can’t just say shit like that jesus fucking christ you’re driving me insane.”

Whoops, guess the weed is still in effect leaving you loose lipped, or maybe it was just his cock. Honestly it could be either or.

You don’t merit his words with a response, instead sliding down to the floor between his legs and licking up the underside of him, hand wrapping around the base. His hand falls to the mattress behind you, his strength giving out at feeling your lips wrapped snug around him and his cock jolts deeper into your throat causing you to gag and sputter.

He pulls out quickly, apologies rushing out of him but you stop him as quickly as he pulls out, sucking him back between your lips and even deeper this time, letting him feel your throat struggle with the length of him.

Curses punch out of his lungs as you work him over, drool pooling on your tongue as you take him into your mouth over and over and over again. You don’t know how long you’re down there for but it’s nowhere near long enough before he’s hooking his hands under your arms and throwing you back onto the bed.

“Jesus, if you thought I had some fucking explaining to do I am going to need some answer real quick about where the fuck you learned how to do that. But god just look at you, so fucking pretty and all for me.”

The combination of his words and watching him drop to his knees between your spread thighs leaves you somehow nervous, your hands coming up to cover your eyes from his blistering stare. His eyes feel like they’re burning you, torching your skin with unbridled need.

You peak out at him from between your fingers and find him smiling at you, head leaning against the inside of your knee, his hair tickling your skin. It’s almost too intimate, the change between depravity and sweetness jarring and heart warming. You’re shy yet sure, even in these moments of such deep vulnerability where it feels like your heart is just out in the open for him to take or destroy, because you know he’s in the same boat, on the same page, heart live and beating on the table right next to yours.

You watch each other for a second, some level of safety found in only seeing one another through the slits between your shaky fingers. Still enough hidden away to make it feel safe. His eyes dance with that same vibrancy that Eddie always has simmering just under the surface, but it feels so much better now that it’s pointed at you.

That you are the one making Eddie glow like this.

A rumbling groan shakes itself out of Eddie as his eyes flutter down and land on your panties and the damp spot growing where they cover your entrance. You can feel how sopping wet you are, have been, and Eddie leans forward eyes zeroing in, his hands slowly tracking up your thighs. His mouth traces its way up your skin, incisors snagging every so often, until his mouth is just inches from your core. He presses his fingers into the meat of your thighs and pushes you open, exposing your clothed cunt to the cold air and his hot mouth.

You can feel it, your wetness catching the puffs of air escaping from between his lips. You can see your thighs twitching with the lightness of the sensation and Eddies eyes darken, flicking up to catch you drinking in his every movement, every change of expression.

He’s intoxicating to you.

His tongue flicks out and traces you through the fabric, the touch muted yet somehow all consuming. Your hips jolt, hard, and Eddie barely avoids getting his jaw knocked. He preens a bit at seeing how worked up he’s gotten you, but graciously doesn’t leave you needy for long.

He dips back, his hands dragging your panties down your legs, finally laying you bare, and his breaths fan across your pussy, ghosting over the newly exposed skin. You swear you almost cum right there.

Your eyes lock again and he finally licks into you. Deep and hot and so wet, it sounds almost too vulgar, an d yet shivers race up and down your spin sending your back arching up to the ceiling. He dives into you and holy fuck is it the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

His arms lock across your hips to keep you under him and then he eats your pussy with abandon. He’s humming and groaning into your fluttering cunt and ever vibration from his tongue makes you see stars and feel like fireworks are bursting under your skin. You can feel your orgasm building itself up brick by molten brick in the pit of your stomach and it’s hard to hold still, to keep quiet when you feel as though you might explode into a million tiny little pieces.

You sound pathetic, moans breathy and more so just pitiful gasps for air. His tongue pushes at your entrance, and you keen as your thighs flex around his ears. There are only stars behind your lids and you grapple at his curls to try and keep yourself grounded in some reality as you careen out into god knows fucking where.

The mix of licking and sucking and flicking and swirling has you dizzy and so undone that you almost don’t notice his finger pressing into you until the stretch and the iciness of his rings sucks the breath out of your lungs. You double over, shuddering and gushing at the push and stretch and million and one sensations hurtling across all of your senses, groaning out Eddie’s name desperately.

“Oh fuck, yes, does that feel good? Fuck your pussy feels so good, so tight fuck, can I fuck you, please god can I-?”

“Jesus yes god yes, Eddie, please, please, please.”

The two of you are falling apart, tumbling head first into something earth shattering. Your eyes can barely stay open to watch him, eyes rolling back with every deep press of his fingers.

He pumps his finger in deep, thumb catching to circle at your clit and you roll your hips up into his palm, shivering and stuttering with every movement. He’s towering over you, mouth parted, awe scrawled across his face as his tongue darts out every so often to skate over his lips, as though he can still taste you there as he watches himself finger fuck you.

You whine far too loud when he pulls his finger out of you, your eyes snapping open, lips ready to beg him to fill you again, but his groan cuts you off and you watch, shell-shocked, as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you off of his skin as his eyes roll back, your name a garbled whisper around his digits. Your hips grind against air, now absolutely unhinged with how much you’re aching for him.

His fingers leave his mouth with a soft pop, and he stares you down as he drops his hand to push two fingers inside you, curling and pressing up into the soft heart of you. Every press hurtling a whine out of your lungs and you can feel how he’s working your over, building you up to some great peak you can’t see quite yet in the fog of lust.

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing till all of sudden the fog clears as though it’s been burned away by some ball of flame and you’re launched off the edge, a moment of hang time and confusion lasting for just a blink before you’re shaking and moaning and cursing up to the heavens. Your orgasm rams through you, blowing everything to dust and ash and Eddie has to practically wrestle you down onto the bed with how hard you buck in his hold.

Your hips are stuttering on his fingers as he works you through wave after wave. You can’t seem to decide if it’s too much or not enough, hips jumping at every pass over your sensitive clit yet still coming back for just one more lick of pained-laced paradise. Your chest is heaving with exertion and you can feel Eddie’s lips pressing into the soft skin of your stomach, a whisper of your name pulling your eyes back down to his.

His fingers twist around yours pulling your hand up to his lips for a soft, wet kiss. You drag both of your hands up to your mouth kissing over the spot he just touched and you can taste yourself on your skin. Your thighs are still shaking under his forearms but your heart rate final starts to slow as you gaze into his pretty eyes, your lips lifting into the softest of smiles.

"You’re going soft on me Fae. Who would have guessed you’d get all love-sick puppy dog eyes on me, very out of character for my High Fae Princess of the Seven Realms.”

“Eddie you little piece of shit, I swear to god!"

You start to sit up, trying to pull your hand away to properly shove at him but Eddie’s quick and your body is still in post-orgasm haze. He snatches up your wrists and pins them above your head, crawling up tills his eyes line up with yours and you can’t ignore the Cheshire Cat grin plastered across his face. He’s acting like he’s somehow trapped you with his “wit” and “brute strength”, but you both know you didn’t really put up that much of a fight.

His eyes soften, milk chocolate swirls hypnotizing you, as he peers down at you like some precious memento.

“So we’re doing this ya? I-I mean not just like the sex part, though that’s been fucking rad, but you know everything else?”

“E are you asking me to be your girlfriend right now? As we lie here, naked, you decide this is the perfect moment? You’ve really got some sense of timing there, I’ll give you that.”

Eddie scowls at you, his face flushing the most adorable shade of pink and you’re quick to put him out of his misery, stretching up to close those final few inches between your lips. The kiss is soft, adoration passed between your lips as you show him your answer.

“Of course we’re doing this Eddie, I don’t think I could imagine life without you most days.”

His hand reaches over to his bedside table, lips moving to devour yours as he rummages through the drawer in search of a condom. You watch as he rips open the foil with his teeth and sheaths himself, and it’s almost embarrassing how fucking hot it all is. Your nails claw into his shoulders, even that little bit of space too much for you to bear.

He rocks into the bowl of your hips, the head of his cock passing over your clit leaving you both shivering into each other until he finally catches against your aching entrance and presses just the tip of him in, a whoosh of air leaving both of your lungs as you feel the heat of each other for the first time.

“Baby I gotta be honest, I’m not gonna last I’m not even inside of you yet and I think I’m losing my fucking mind so I’m going to apologize in advance for busting way way way too quick. Please just, you know, take it as a compliment because you are hot as fuck.”

He’s rambling against your lips as he saws back and forth pressing just a tad deeper with every thrust. If your head wasn’t absolutely empty aside from the need to feel his cock splitting you, you would maybe even blush with how sweet the entirety of this situation is, but right now you need Eddie more than the air in your lungs.

“Jesus Eddie I don’t fucking care, I’m fucking losing my mind, please just fuck m-“

You choke out a garbled moan as he slides all the way into you, hips nestling together, his stomach brushing over yours. His jaw drops open and his lower teeth catch under your jaw as he gasps against your skin, choking out the filthiest whine you’ve ever heard. Your cunt spasms around him and the whine sharpens into a keen.

He pulls back until just the head of him is still inside of you and his eyes drop to watch as he pushes back in, his arms almost buckling at the sight. Your foreheads press together as you watch him saw in and out, cock glinting in the smoky light of the room with how fucking wet you are.

It all starts to build so quickly, the heat of his cock triggering something deep in your chest and your core. You can see the freight train in the distance and know there’s no way to stop it, just have to hope you can prepare yourself for impact.

He’s panting into your neck, whispering your name, how good you feel, whispering words your brain barely has the capacity to hear with how good he’s making you feel. His hips are already faltering with every push inside of you, cock already so sensitive from all of the building to this moment. Your body also can’t decide whether you’re too overworked, or if you need more friction to finish you.

The latter seems to win out.

Even in his supposed stupor, Eddie somehow still puts you first. His hand finds its way back between your legs, and his thumb settles to press firm circles over your clit. Your legs start to shake even as your arms lock up around Eddie’s neck, too many sensations taking over and your body needing to cling to something for dear life.

His lips find their way under your ear and as he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin you cum.

Your body caves in on itself, muscles locking up around him from the pleasures he’s choking you with. You have no sense of time or sound or sight, no clue what sounds you might be making, what you must look like, everything burning away until all that’s left is wave after wave of shivering pleasure.

“Holy fuck.”

That you do hear, Eddie’s lips still right below your ear, his teeth sinking in with the force of your orgasm. Your pussy clamps around him and he can barely move, can only feel your heartbeat against his cock. It’s like a sirens call to him and he’s fucking gone. The softness of your body and the tightness of your cunt breaking his last shreds of control.

He follows right behind you, trembling hips rocking unsteadily into yours till it becomes just a bit too much. Your contractions of your cunt draining him till his visions sparkles with white dots of light.

The bed bounces as he drops partially on you and partially on the bed, trying to not squish you while still remaining as close as physically possible. His nose skims along your throat and you sigh, deep and loud, making sure he can hear you, can hear how happy you are.

“Mmmm that good, huh?”

“You know, I don’t think it was too bad.”

His hand squeezes at your waist and you’re reminded for probably the thousandth time that night how fucking pretty he is. How you can practically taste the sweetness of his heart in the air. He’s looking at you like you’ve always dreamed someone would, and it’s only made better by the fact you never thought it would be Eddie.

Never dreamed that you would get to have this.

He tips his head up and his lips brush against your jaw, his tongue lazily licking at your damp skin. Your whole body hums. He presses another kiss into your lips and it tastes of a thank you. It seems you’re both a little bit in awe of your luck these days.

You share giddy smiles, eyes still droopy, though this time from the sex and not the weed. The feeling settling inside the four chambers of your heart is something you could really get used to, and you hope beyond hope that it’ll become as familiar as the curl of Eddie’s hair.

You’re pretty sure it will.

once again i love him, my new fixation god help me, feedback is always so lovely and so appreciated :)))))

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction

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mydarllinglover · 11 months

Text

Alone || Sharing Stories

"Circle around. Don't let them slip by." Voices whispered, filling the air.

Dog barked at the noise, Natalia grabbed hold of him, keeping him close to her as they tried to find the unknown sounds.

"Keep them together."

"You die now."

Walkers loomed towards them through the rain and fog.

"Go. Now." Michonne ordered, quietly.

A woman with a bandage around her head picked up the mask, whilst Aaron and Daryl lifted Jesus's body, to take back with them to be buried.

Natalia attacked the walkers that got too close to them.

"Go. I'll cover you." Michonne told her, as the others left.

An walker with a knife went to sneak up on Michonne, but Natalia got there quicker, stabbing the female walker in the head.

They both peered down on the "walker." Before meeting each others eye, nodding.

"Come on! Let's go!" Daryl called for them, he then locked the gates of the cemetery behind them.

"So you managed to climb over the gate, huh?" Natalia spoke to Michonne, as they walked, the sun was up, it was the next morning.

"See you managed to find your way back home."

"As you can see, it was a short stay."

"I saw them, the kids, hear Evie's gonna become Enid's second."

"I didn't know that."

"She's a good kid, they all are." Michonne spoke. "The baby, is that..."

"Yep. Archie, Archie Carl, he's ours." Natalia answered.

"Oh, so you guys were busy, in the woods." Michonne smirked at the woman.

"Who are these guys?" She pointed at the two women ahead.

"Yumiko and Magna." Michonne interrupted their muttering to each other.

"Ah, part of the group that my niece brought back."

"You the famous Aunt Nat who would've fought for our stay?" Magna looked over her shoulder at the woman.

"Who the hell would even think about doing this?" Yumiko rambled, passing the mask thing to Magna.

"I suspect some vessel filled with a chunky salsa of abnormal impulses and metastasized rage." Eugene gave his input, as Michonne and Natalia helped him walk.

"It's full on bat-shit." Magna shook her head.

"You think there's more?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, looking around.

"So, what do we do?" Yumiko asked.

"Right now, keep moving." Michonne told her.

Once they got to the horses, they were able to put Jesus across it, to get him back with them.

Daryl looked back at the two women, who were riding the other horse.

"Judith vouched for 'em, so do I." Michonne spoke.

"All right." He grunted.

"It's gonna mean a lot to them." She continued. "Bringin' him back. Burying him."

"Sorry I couldn't do that for you." Daryl apologised, even though Natalia had been pushing onto him that that wasn't his place, and he didn't need to, he never listened.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it for all of us." Michonne said. "Thank you, both of you. For trying to find him. And... for after."

"What matters now, is that we're together, now, that you were there." Natalia told her.

"Thanks for saving my ass back there." Michonne smiled.

"Just paying back the favour, 'Sides, I wouldn't let my best friend go like that." Natalia returned the smile, holding hands for a brief moment.

Dogs barking started again.

"We got some tails." Magna said.

"The living kind or original recipe?" Eugene asked.

"Let's find out." Daryl decided. "Good Dog."

They had got to a bridge.

Walkers were making their way towards them.

Daryl had shot at their legs, working out which was a walker and which was pretend, he found out as the man let out cries, the walkers quick to take him down for them as they tore the man apart.

A few turned away as others continued forward, then one man brandished his knife, running for Michonne, who sliced off his arm, stabbing him in the chest.

Natalia went for the girl who attempted to walk away, knowing she wouldn't get out of this, she dropped to her knees, hands up in the air.

"Nat! Wait" Daryl stopped her from killing the girl, ripping the mask off, revealing what looked to be a teenager with long dark hair.

"Please..." She sobbed. "Please don't kill me. Please."

Natalia dragged her knife back with her boot, slowly crouching down to pick it up without taking her eyes off the girl.

"How many?" Michonne asked, catching the mask Daryl tossed her.

"Please... you killed them all. It's just me now." The girl cried.

Natalia held her own knife to the girls throat.

"I don't believe you." Michonne spoke for her.

"There ain't no time. We'll take her with us." Daryl spoke, spotting the herd closing in on them.

"Get up, slow." Natalia breathed, grabbing the bit of rope that was handed to her, tying the girls hands together behind her back.

"Hey, you try anything, you won't have to pretend." Michonne threatened.

"Let's go. Come on." Daryl encouraged, taking the girl from his wife's grasp.

They soon made their way back to the Hilltop, the girl had a white bandana around her face, blocking her view as she sat on top of the horse.

The people of Hilltop gathered to welcome their leader back.

Tara and Enid left the house, with the twins following behind the young woman, Archie was on Tara's hip.

Daryl, Yumiko and Magna helped get Jesus down, as Michonne and Natalia yanked the girl off the horse, dragging her towards the cells.

"This who did it?" Tammy- Rose asked, once the people of Hilltop had realised Jesus's fate, their relief and happiness quickly vanishing

"No. One of her people." Michonne answered.

"You locking her up?" She continued to pester with questions.

"We're getting answers." Tara told her.

"And then what? Tara, Jesus trusted you, so we're all lookin' to you now. But people are gonna want justice for this. And when that time comes, we're gonna look to you for that, too."

"I know." She promised, following the pair, Daryl had also caught up with them.

"Evie?" Natalia gasped, spotting her daughter in one of the cells, Henry was in the other.

Daryl opened the door, pulling her out.

"Get inside." He told the other girl, pushing her in.

"Daryl?" Henry called.

"Evie, what the hell are you doing here? What are the both of you doing here?" Natalia looked at Henry through the bars as she assessed her daughter.

"Drunk and disorderly, you can either bunk her up with Henry, or call her sentence." Tara told her.

"What's going on?" Henry continued to look for answers.

"Jesus is dead." Daryl spoke, glaring at Evie, she was supposed to be babysitting, and now she's being sentenced for drunk and disorderly, with Henry of all people.

Tara and Michonne dealt with the other girl as Daryl unlocked Henry's door, pushing Evie inside.

"Both of you shut up, we'll talk about this later." He growled, as they turned to watch the interrogation.

"How many more of you are there?" Michonne pressed, when she kept bullshitting.

"They're all dead." She cried. "My family's dead. Please just stop."

"Not until you start answering our questions."

"Your name. Start with your name." Tara said.

"I told you, I don't have one." She answered. "None of us do. None of us did. That's not how it worked."

"How did it work?"

"Why do you wear their skins?" Daryl asked. "Answer!" He demanded, when she was quiet.

"They were good people." She sobbed harder. "We were good. It's what we did to live. That's-- That's all we wanted to do. Live."

"Bullshit." Natalia scoffed.

"Oh, you're saying you had to do this?" Tara asked.

"You wouldn't understand." She shook her head.

"Then make us understand. What the hell were you doing?" Michonne tried again.

"We, we were just trying to see if they were good people, too. But then you attacked us, and now they're dead."

"We attacked you?" Natalia took a step forward. "Sweetheart, we were tryna find our friend, and you and your "good people" ambushed us."

"They're dead. They're all dead. And I don't have anything." She cried for herself, but no one was buying it.

Michonne clamped a hand on the back of her chair, stopping her from rocking backwards.

"What did your people know about us?" She asked. "Do they know about this place?"

"I don't know."

"Huh?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything. They didn't tell me anything. Please stop asking me. Just leave me alone, please. Please just leave me alone."

They sighed in defeat, leaving the cell's.

"I don't trust a word coming out of her mouth." Michonne started.

"She's a good actor, I'll give her that." Natalia sighed.

"We'll get it out of her." Daryl promised.

"We try again in the morning." Tara decided.

"You'll have to do it without me." Michonne told them. "Taking my people back first thing. Can't risk them not knowing about this back home."

"Okay." Tara nodded. "Thanks, for being here and for helping. That group you brought in, I'm gonna let them know that they can stay. I guess that's my call now. That's what he would've done."

"Thanks, Tara."

She nodded, heading off to go deal with her duties, and to probably go check on her girlfriend.

"Keeping her here is a risk." Michonne told the pair who were still there. "You both know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Her people, you reckon they'll come for her, I mean, she looks Evie's age, think she's got a parent, someone looking after her?" Natalia asked.

"That's what I'm worried about." Michonne admitted.

"I'll get her to talk." Daryl nodded.

"If she doesn't... You know what you have to do."

"We'll get her to talk." Natalia stepped in. "I'm gonna go check on the kids, you find out what the hell Evie and Henry did last night." Natalia told Daryl, hugging Michonne.

"On it."

"Hey, come meet, Archie, officially." She smiled at her friend, pulling her away.

Rosita had been watching the twins and baby, whilst Siddiq fixed Eugene's knee.

"Mommy!" Daisy called, spotting her as her and Michonne walked into the infirmary.

"Mommy!" Bambi repeated as they both swarmed to hug her.

"Hey, hey guys, hanging out with Aunt Ro and Eugene and Siddiq?"

"Mommy, Siddiq popped Eugene's knee in and it went phew and it cracked and it was so gross!" Daisy smiled excitedly.

"Glad I could be of service of entertainment to your younglings after saving my life, today." Eugene nodded at her.

"Oh, wow, so having fun, then?" Natalia laughed, taking the baby that was handed to her. "Thanks, Rosita, Thanks Eugene."

"'Course, anything for these lil guys." She patted the twins heads. "And that bundle of cuteness."

"Hey, Bam, Daisy, I want you to meet another one of Mommy's friends, this is Aunt Michonne."

"Hi." They waved at her.

"Hey, guys, I used to know you when you were this big." She smiled at Archie.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that." Daisy lied.

"No, you don't." Bambi scowled at her. "Mommy, Daisy's telling fibbers, again."

"Hey, guys, why don't you go find Uncle Aaron, ask him to show you the animals." Natalia told them.

"Okay!"

"My kids, everybody, you gotta love them." Natalia commented, when the girls ran out the door. "Anyway, this is my favourite child, because he can't walk or talk yet."

"Awe, come here, Archie." Michonne let out a sigh, taking the baby, who apparently loved cuddles with everybody, something they discovered very quickly, after getting to The Hilltop.

After Daryl and Natalia left to go rescue Eugene, Tara had begun passing the baby around as though it were a meet and greet back in the day.

"I didn't even know you guys would ever have another kid." Rosita folded her arms across her chest.

"We didn't think we would either, it was an accident, y'know what I mean. But I'm grateful, because of you." She kissed Archie's cheek.

"I think after the third kid, you gotta stop using the accident excuse." Rosita chuckled.

"It was, I swear." She put her hands up. "Y'know, I thought he was a girl the whole time, until I gave birth, the lil sneak."

"How did you and Daryl manage that, that's really dangerous, Nat." Michonne told her.

"Oh, Daryl wasn't there, just me, I was in a cabin, so it was fine, and Evie left to go find him and the twins, but it was fine, we're both alive, and I've dealt with worse, it was a piece of cake."

"Have yet to work out if you are terrifying or truly an amazement." Siddiq shook his head.

"I prefer being acknowledged as both." She shrugged.

"Neither of 'em will talk." Daryl told her, catching up, after putting the two teens back in their joint cell.

They were watching Aaron show the twins the horses, Natalia hugged Archie to her.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yup, won't give me names, where they got it from, but they're real sorry, think Henry's more sorry than Eve, she was more pissed at him."

"Good to know, we really gonna leave her in there?"

"Rules of the Hilltop, she wanted to come here and get lit first chance she got, that's her problem."

"Yeah, you're right, I just, I can't believe she would do something like that, y'know? We didn't raise her like that, hell, I think the last time I had alcohol, was the day before I met her."

"You mean, when we had spaghetti instead of going to that party, an' you got hammered."

"In my defence, it was my birthday." She ignored Daryl's furrowed brows at her confession, changing the topic, quickly. "What are we gonna do about that girl? The other one."

"I'll talk to her, find out what she knows." Daryl shrugged, taking Archie out of her arms. "And if that fails, thinking maybe you could. You're the best judge of character we got."

"I don't want to trust her, I don't want to figure her out and find out why she's walking around with walker faces on, unless it's something that's gonna harm us or our people."

"But you do want to." He finished her train of thought. "She's a kid, and something's nagging at you, I know."

"I think you know me a bit too well." She folded her arms across her chest. "It kinda bugs me actually, If I'm being honest."

Jesus's funeral was held the next day, it was a tough conversation to have with the twins, especially considering they would have to explain that the man they met with the funny name, just the day before, had come back dead, and what a funeral even was.

But for two five year olds, they had managed to stay very respectful, listening carefully and being quiet throughout the whole sermon, even though Daryl and Natalia were mourning their friend, they were both very proud of the twins, they just hoped this was the last funeral they would be attending.

After, Daryl had left to go deal with the girl in the cell, to get some answers.

After setting Archie down for a nap, and giving the girls an activity, she found Daryl sat outside the cell window.

She took a seat beside him, hearing three voices talking.

"I'm Henry, she's Evie."

"Henry, my dad's seriously going to kill you if you don't shut up." Evie's voice hissed.

"Evie relax, he's not here. No reason to be rude to her." Henry told her.

"I'm Lydia." The girl ignored her worry.

"My parents, they don't wanna hurt you, they're good people too, but, your people gave us a reason to feel threatened, just be honest with my dad, and it'll turn out better for you." Evie told her. "If not, then it's only self defence."

Daryl and Natalia silently low-fived, that was their girl.

They had sat out there most of the day, listening to the three teens talk, how Lydia opened up, told them her story.

When Natalia returned from checking on the kids, Daryl would quietly fill her in on anything important, but only when he felt he had to.

"I remember that look in his eye. Still see it. How cold it is. Was." Lydia corrected herself, telling them about her father. "Why am I even telling you two this?"

"Beats the quiet. Beats being alone."

"Alone, seriously?" Evie scoffed.

"I've never been alone." Lydia continued. "My people travelled in groups with the dead. I miss the sounds... the smell..."

"Not gonna lie, walking around in dead people's skins is pretty messed up."

"I've been covered in guts of the dead, and I would still prefer that over wearing their faces." Evie kicked something as she sighed.

"Thinking this place isn't gonna fall like every other place... that's messed up."

"It's not, because it won't, these people worked hard for this, they didn't take any easy routes out." The blonde got defensive, She had also dealt with shit during the war, things she couldn't forget.

"Evie, chill out." Henry told her.

"Your dad's an asshole like mine." Lydia spoke up. "All you did was sneak out. Is it even that hard? Are there a lot of guards posted here?"

"We're not dumb enough to fall for that." Evie raised a brow. "And my dad's not an asshole. You're just a stranger, he's an actual good person."

"Your dad doesn't even wanna be here, he's only doing it for your mom and my mom." Henry told her. "That's why he had you living in the woods for years, with your sisters and brother."

"That's not why." She scowled at him again.

"I thought you said both your moms died." Lydia stood up, looking at the pair as they sat on opposite sides of the small bed.

"Second mom, I mean." Henry corrected. "They're both tough. Not somebody you want to mess with."

"I used to call mine my back up." Evie scoffed, "She's been my mom longer than my real mom was, same with my dad, I barely remember them, my first dad, he used to have a crush on my mom, and so did my second dad, guess he got it in favour that the first died in her arms." She laughed.

"Hey, what happened to your dad?" Henry asked Lydia.

"My dad was a stupid man. My mom, though, she kept me alive. Kept me safe. She's a lot like your mom's. You don't mess with her, either."

They had no choice but to interfere when Henry started talking about the Kingdom, even when Evie kept telling him to shut up.

"Hey. What's going on?" Henry asked.

"You been pardoned." Natalia told him, unlocking the door of the cell door. "Both of you. Let's go."

"Mom." Evie started.

"Let's go." She pushed both of them forward.

Daryl was waiting for him at the top, grabbing hold of the boy and yanking him forward.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He circled the boy. "Huh? Telling her about the Kingdom? What if there's more of her people out there? You got family at the Kingdom."

"I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't think that it would..."

"I told you!" Evie yelled.

"Wait. You were listening?" He caught on.

"Yeah, of course we were, me and Nat, few of the others, we've been switching off, seeing what she'd say to you."

"You were using us."

"Yeah and it was workin', too." Daryl stared coldly at him.

"She's a good person who got messed up out there. And she's right about you. You know that? You're an asshole."

"Henry, shut up." Evie pushed him back. "You were being stupid, what for some girl that you just met? What happened to Enid?"

"Oh, yeah, that's why you were sucking faces with Gage. I told you we should've stopped drinking, but no Evie never wants to listen." He pointed at her, who's face had got completely red, as she backed down. "You want answers, get 'em yourself." He looked back to the girls parents, before walking away.

"Evie? Who's Gage?" Natalia demanded.

"No one, just.. leave it alone." She scampered as well, before her parents could interrogate her too.

Daryl was even more angry, when he went down to talk to Lydia.

Natalia decided to spend the remainder of the day with Archie, taking him in, appreciating him, soaking up how little he still was, and when the girls were done with their chores, they joined in, she gave the teenagers their space, knowing they needed it.

At night time, Archie was kicking up a fuss, whilst the twins were trying to sleep, Natalia guessed he was missing his dad, considering he'd barely seen him for the past couple of days.

She left the trailer, the one her and Daryl had got married in when they escaped all those years ago, to get some fresh air, trying to soothe her sons cry's.

"It's alright, shh, lovey, it's okay." She tried, bouncing him as she went in search for her husband.

When she had found him, he pulled her to a stop, covering her mouth as he pointed ahead, three people were scampering around, whispering, Evie, Henry and Lydia, until Lydia demanded to go back to the cell.

"If my dad catches us, we're all gonna be in so much trouble." Evie complained, as they rushed past, not even catching the two adults.

"He's not gonna catch us, we're putting Lydia back, so it's fine, right Lydia?"

She didn't give a response.

Natalia was the one to give the girl her breakfast, finding the two other teens right where she expected.

She had moved silently in order to not wake them. She noticed how Henry and Lydia were holding hands, and Evie curled up by herself, away from Lydia's cell.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat.

"Mom." Evie gasped.

"Mrs Dixon, this was my idea, she didn't wanna be alone, so we were just keeping her company." Henry sat up.

"Go." She nodded her head. "Go help your father with the kids"

"Will do, sorry mom." Evie kissed her cheek as she scrambled past, Henry followed.

"My ear hurts. Everything hurts." Lydia told her. "Does Daryl still have those pills?"

"You should know something, my husbands the soft one, after what you tried with him, I'm not falling for your bullshit." Natalia sighed, setting down the tray of food, grabbing a seat to sit down in.

"My mom's not coming for me." Lydia said. "None of them are. If someone dies or gets taken or whatever, they move on. Like they never existed. That's how it's always been. They don't come into contact with big groups unless they don't have a choice. That's why I-- I was trying to find out everything I could about you. 'Cause then when I escaped. I'd have something to give them. A reason for them to take me back."

"Your mom needs a reason to take you back?" Natalia asked, tilting her head.

She looked down.

"Think our moms would've got on pretty well." Natalia commented. "Except, my mom was clean, very clean, she wouldn't of been walking around with masks of dead people. She would've washed her hands with me if she could. She never hit me, never often, only when I deserved it, to make me better, she hated it too, because she loved me, and it hurt her more to cause me pain, but, she was mostly the type of parent that liked to pretend her kid didn't exist, unless it was something she could shove in other people's faces, prove to them that even as a single mother, she was better than them."

"What about your dad?" She asked.

"My dad was my best friend, and I was his, until he died, when I was four, allergies of all things, sometimes, I used to wonder if my mom did it, if she killed my dad just to get rid of him, but she loved my dad more than she liked me."

"Did she make it?"

"I don't know, she went on a cruise, with my step-dad, right before shit hit the fan, she's most likely dead, or she could still be on that boat, just sailing around the world, avoiding all this shit." Natalia finished talking about herself, opening herself up had done the job, she could see it on Lydia's face. "Where are our people, and don't bother lying to me, I can tell."

"If my mom found them... I can't think of a reason she'd keep them alive. Sorry." She sighed.

Natalia caved, tugging out the bottle of pills Daryl had handed her when she left, moving to drop them in the girls hand, then grabbed a spoon full of water, handing it to her.

The girl graciously accepted it, throwing the pills back.

"See what happens when you co-operate, you earn things." Natalia took the spoon back. "She got a camp somewhere?"

"Near the guard bridge. Maybe a mile east. But we don't-- They don't stay in one place for long."

"What you told my daughter, and Henry, about your family, were you telling the truth?"

"I thought all of it was." She answered honestly. "I needed it to be. But I had it all mixed up. It was a lie, but... the lie wasn't mine."

"Your mom told you it all, like she was the good guy, right? Until you believed it."

"Deep down I knew, I knew what she was. I knew what she did." Lydia agreed, sadly. "My dad was my best friend, too. But then, he was against the wall, scared. And my mom was there. Had that cold look in her eye. Then she-- She got her knife. And then she-."

"I know." Natalia sighed gently, soothingly. "It's okay. I know what you mean, that's alright."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you." She apologised. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"You've done more than enough, Lydia, don't worry about it. Eat your food. Evie is a talented doctor, get her to check you over, considering you seem to know her quite well, on your midnight strolls."

She then left the cells.

"So this whole time. Lydia's mom made her think it was her fault her dad died?" Henry badgered her, as soon as she left the cells. "Why would a mom do that to a kid?"

"Sometimes, people end up with kids when they shouldn't, just how it goes."

"So what happens now?" Henry asked. "Can she stay here with us?"

"It's not up to me, come on, get Lydia some fresh clothes, I'm gonna report back to Daryl and Tara, see what we can do about scoping out that camp. Maybe after you can point out to me who this Gage person is."

"He's an asshole." Henry gave his opinion as he walked the other way. "I told Evie she could do better."

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #carl grimes #carol peletier #daryl fanfiction #glenn rhee #michonne #rick grimes #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x y/n #daryldixonalonetwd #darylxnatalia #daryl imagines

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ihavebeenallthingsunholy · 5 months

Text

killjoy fic. only one chapter so far, im trying to write some more.

she saw the first figure on the horizon, then the other three. they always travel in packs. usually four. idly she thought of the killjoys she'd grown up with. once four figures together meant salvation, family. now, it means target practice.

val raised his gun a split second after she raised hers. both were trained on the figure in the front of the drac-squad. val shot her a look that clearly meant- i've got this. don't bother.

it wasnt as if she liked him, but he did serve a purpose. val velocity was an attack dog, but he was too smart for his own good, and once you pointed him at something he'd stop at nothing. he showed no remorse and no acknowledgement that draculoids were people, once. she hated him for that. she lowered her gun, squinting through the heated air at the drac in front. the one val was pointing at. something felt familiar about the tilt of the white-clad shoulders, the rock-star tilted hips.

on impulse, she brought her arm up and knocked val's gun halfway out of his hand. "fuck d'ya think you're doing?" he said angrily. she didn't have a response, so she shot him a look and hoped that would be enough.

she turned her gaze to the draculoid in front only to realize that apparently she hadn't hit val's gun arm quickly enough. the figure seemed to be winged and was lying in the sand. the other three backed away to a safe distance, guns safely away. something seemed... off. until she realized the drac wasn't moving or struggling to get up. just laying in the sand like they were dead, but they clearly weren't. even from where she stood the girl could see that val's blast had only just grazed their shoulder. the bl/ind issue white drac jacket had a furrow through it, smoke curling upwards.

the girl inched forwards. doubts ran through her mind, encouraged by vals mutterings that she was going to get killed and that she'd deserve it, the dumbass kid. what if it was just playing dead and was really going to jump up and shoot her? she didn't think so. she'd gotten good at reading body language. the drac on the ground was an open book: not quite i give up, but i dont have the energy to keep going. not right now. the drac's curled up position reminded her of the way party had looked when val shot him the first time. laying in the hard-packed sand, blue-hazel eyes turned dazed up to heaven.

we'll get em next time, was what his eyes said.

for party poison, there wasn't a next time.

the girl mustered all her courage and tried her best to not think about red hair or a dusty old car. to not remember kobra's bike or his unreadable smile that drove cherri up the wall.

this was her life now. for the last twelve years it was survive, kill, forget. forget about explosives and cargo pants and an eyepatch and turning a random patch of desert into the only home she'd ever known. forget about power pup and poison red.

she shook her way out of her mind, memories sticking to her eyes like cobwebs. she roughly shoved the drac- person - onto their back with one steel toed boot. they still didn't move, and she glanced up at the other three, who were still sitting in their bl/ind car, watching with painted-on eyes.

after the first four had died, the girl had started carrying a razor-sharp knife around in her boot. they'd never hold her captive while other killjoys died again. now, she reached down to her boot and flicked the blade out in a practiced fluid motion. lately, she'd picked up the habit of trying to get a look at who the drac was before they died. everyone deserved that at least one person mourned for them, even if it was their murderer. or if not mourned, at least acknowledged they were ever alive.

she drew the knife up through the side of the mask, steel cutting rubber like warmed butter. not that she'd ever had butter, but there were stories. cautiously she pushed the edge of the mask back with the end of the blade. val hated this tradition of hers, and this time especially he made it known with a shout of "r' you actually FUCKING stupid? it's still alive AND ther'r more in th' car!"

she ignored him, as she always did, and looked down at the face. a rush of familiarity flooded through her.

blue-hazel eyes. the angles she'd noticed even before she saw the face. the brown-black hair that she only ever saw as a kid when the group ran low on hair dye for a few months.

maybe there was a god. or maybe she'd just gotten very, very lucky.

#mcr #danger days #fanfic #original #mcr fic #killjoys #val velocity #party poison #my writing

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theunboundwriter · 2 years

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The Sea is in Her Blood

"Tis a pirate that's said to be a terrifying breed o' bloodthirsty. Eyes a cursed color of orange from takin' a dead man's treasure." The man paused briefly to take a smoke from his cigar, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the barrel in front of him.

"They call him 'Cutthroat Marlowe,' the nastiest pirate to sail these waters in a long time."

He gestured for the bartender to retrieve another drink, tossing him a silver coin, and sliding the glass towards me. He released a shaky breath of smoke before continuing, "I've seen him with me own eyes when he and his crew raided a village I was passin' through. I saw Marlowe take down ten men at once with nothin' but a cutlass and thank the gods he didn't see me or I'd be a dead man too."

The buzz of the chatter of people echoed around us, drowning out any other sound that may be heard. The man leaned forwards, closer to me, his breath rancid and hot on my face. He lowered his voice, "Ye know how fast talk travels, 'specially on the waters, but they say he killed his lover, then his crew, and to be honest with ye, if I hadn't seen 'em with me own two eyes, I'd say he was just a tale."

After another puff of smoke escaped his lips, the man sighed, "I ain't never met a man who'd turn on his own crew, killin' them in cold blood. He must be all kinds of evil to do something so wretched.

"There be guesses, as to how he died. I'd heard that after recruiting a new crew they had a mutiny. Others say he danced with Jack Ketch or got his throat cut like he'd been doing all those years. Givin' him a taste of his own medicine if ye ask me."

He leaned back in his chair once again, and I doing the same. I kicked my feet up and leaned my chair back so it balanced on two legs, the gold bracelets on my wrists clicking against one another as I brought the glass to my lips.

"All I can say is I hope the man's in Davy Jones' Locker, or the darkest corner of hell for all the trouble he's caused. May he rot in pieces."

"I'll drink to that, sir," I smiled, tilting my hat to reveal the amber eyes that had been concealed by the shadows, loose brown curls falling to my shoulders. I took a sip of the ale the man had bought me as payment for listening to his stories.

Sitting down my glass, I stood up to leave, thanking the man for his time and walking to the door. But then, just as quickly as I had left, I spun around on my heel, unsheathing the dagger I kept on my right hip and pressed it against the man's throat.

He looked up at me with wide, confused eyes. They then morphed into fear as he gawked out the word, "you?"

"Aye sir, it's me. And you know how the saying goes," I smile, watching as the man quivered under my knife, "Dead men tell no tales."

About:

Genre: Adventure Status: 1st Draft POV: Third Person Omniscient Tropes: Adventure, Pirates, Curses, Buried Treasure, Found-Family, Will to Survive, Self-Reliance, Learning to Love, Loneliness as Destructive Force Content Warnings: Blood, Murder, Violence, Dark Thoughts, Tag Used: #wip: the sea is in her blood

Synopsis:

June ‘Cutthroat’ Marlowe had built up quite a reputation for herself. Not only was she the daughter of legendary Captain Damon ‘The Marked,’ but she was the only one brave enough to wrong him and get away with it. Now fleeing for her life, June has to find a ship and a crew, and sail to wherever the map she stole from her father takes her, before he can get his hands on the treasure she’s after. Word travels fast, and it seems as if the seven seas were against her, as she’s being hunted down by more than just her bloodthirsty father: Captain Bates Anderson— The British Navy Officer— who she’d outsmarted time and time again, and wants nothing more than to see her pay for the crimes she’s committed. The love of her life, who she had left for dead. This pesky pirate who just so happens to have exactly what she’s looking for. And an ancient curse that had been following her family for years.

Characters:

June 'Cutthroat' Marlowe // Daughter of the infamous Captain Damon 'The Marked,' who only wants to make a name for herself separate from the legends of her father and to finally best him and gain the upper hand. She would do anything to accomplish her goals, sacrificing anyone who got in her way.

Damon 'The Marked' Marlowe // June's father and Captain of the Last Curse. He's built up his reputation through stories that have been spread across the seas, getting what he wants through tactics such as fear and threats. Damon was after a certain piece of treasure that he had to keep a secret from June, knowing that she would want to get her hands on what he was after and he couldn't afford to share with her. After she stole his map, she fled from the ship and jumped into the unforgiving hands of the ocean. If it were anyone else, he would have given up looking for them and assumed the sea had gotten the best of them. But June? She was like a cockroach: hard to kill and always lurking around the corner. If Damon wanted this treasure, he would have to find her and most likely bring her life to an end.

Bellamy 'Red' Carlyle // Captain of the Scurvy Return, and the first person whose heart was stolen by June. He hated to admit it, but he fell for her faster than he could have ever expected. Red welcomed her into his life with open arms, giving her a place to stay and offering her a job on the ship. Little did he know, this would cost him everything: his ship, his crew, his authority, his title as Captain, his heart, and his life.

Pierson 'Albatross' Rutland // The Quartermaster of the Scurvy Return and the newly named Red Treasure after June takes over as Captain. He has a charming smile and always knows exactly what to say, but that doesn't change the fact that he has ulterior motives and is doing his tasks out of greed. He'll say what he needs to say to pass suspicion, buttering up whoever is in charge so no one casts him a second glance. Of course, the traitor always dies in the end.

Captain Bates Anderson // The British Naval Officer that witnessed first hand the horrors that June 'Cutthroat' Marlowe is capable of. After losing the lives of everyone on his crew, he vows that he will do everything in his power to bring them to justice and make June pay for the crimes she's committed.

Jesse Myers // A pirate that came into June's life when his crew attempted to board her ship. She threw him in the brig for the hell of it, but Jesse reveals he has information on the treasure she is after.

Booker // A crew member of the Last Curse that helped June escape the clutches of her father. She believes him to be dead, but he holds a valuable piece of information that will help her accomplish her goals.

Salton 'Grisly' Harding // First mate of the Scurvy Return, and father figure to Red. He's a quiet, older gentlemen with more wisdom than people realize, one of the few to quickly pick this up being June.

Kit Harrison // The surgeon of the Scurvy Return, and the first to speak their mind to June. She was grateful for his snarky sense of humor and the way he says exactly what he's thinking.

Franklin Willoughby // Cabin boy of the Scurvy Return and one of the few people that June tolerates on the ship.

Carter and Carswell 'Righty and Lefty' Garrick // Pilot and Sea Artist, respectively, of the Scurvy Return. They're more fun and games than paying attention to what they're doing, and if it weren't for Salton keeping them on track they would never get anything done.

Benton 'Plank Walker' Charlton // June's first mate aboard the Red Treasure. He is as loyal as they get, following June's orders with a trust that few could possess. He does, however, advise her if he believes there is a better course of action, and she almost always hears what he has to say. He was the only one who would stand up to her without repercussion.

Raleigh 'The Mermaid' Fulton // As a woman studying medicine, she has no where to legally practice. Which is when she decides the only way for her to follow her dream is to do so illegally. June hires her to be the surgeon of the Red Treasure, and only later does she realize that she is the daughter of the Governor.

Philip Irwin // Philip came to June looking for adventure and a place to stay. She made him the cabin boy of the Red Treasure, liking his enthusiasm. He is a firm believer in the fantastical, believing in mermaids, fairies, and anything magical.

Sherwood 'Daring' Ike // The Master Gunner of the Red Treasure. He's incredibly impulsive, and quite literally a loose canon. June initially hired him for his bravery, but she's come to realize that he isn't one to follow orders blindly.

Tag List:

ask to be added or removed @fearofahumanplanet @marinesocks @parttimeghost @houndsofcorduff @creatrackers

#wip: the sea is in her blood #original work #original story #original character #ocs #original content #writeblr #writing #creative writing #pirate crew #pirates of the caribbean #pirates #wip intro #writeblr community #writeblr intro #writerblr #writeblr introduction #writer community

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

Text

Kiss the Cook

Aaron tries to help Emily cook a meal. Tries being the operative word.

AKA just pointless, domestic fluff because we all deserve it <3

-x-

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: very brief mentions of blood

Read over on Ao3 in my collection of mini fics, or below the cut

“I hate this.”

Aaron tries and fails, to hide his smile at the petulance colouring his girlfriend's tone, the way her bottom lip stuck out a little. A slight pout she’d deny if he brought it up.

“You sound like Jack when we’re trying to make him do his math homework.” He says, his smile widening even further when Emily narrows her eyes at him, he looks down to the pot she’s standing in front of, the sauce he’d walked her through the steps of making starting to bubble. “Careful, you don’t want it to burn.”

She groans and looks down, re-starting the stirring she had been doing. “I can do more than just stir, Aaron.”

He smiles and closes the gap between them, his arms wrapping around her from behind, his lips against her temple.

“Tell that to your thumb.” He replies, his gaze falling to the bandaid on her left hand, an injury she had somehow acquired whilst chopping the vegetables for dinner.

He smiles as she mumbles something under her breath, feeling the rumble of it in her chest more than anything else. She fascinated him endlessly, and the almost 12 months they had been a couple had done nothing to change that. The woman could shoot straight whilst running at full speed, but couldn’t use a kitchen knife without hurting herself.

“It slipped.”

Aaron looks at the pot intended for the pasta, the water now coming to a boil. “We’re ready for the spaghetti.”

She reaches for the packet and gets some out, about to snap the dry noodles in half before he stops her, a hand on each of hers.

“No, baby, what are you doing?” He asks, stopping himself from smiling when she turns to look at him, her confusion clear.

“Breaking it so it fits in the pot.” She says as if it was obvious, her eyebrows raised at him. She sighs, relinquishing her hold on the pasta so he could put it in the pot. “That’s wrong isn’t it.”

She looks so dejected he immediately wraps his arms around her again, pulling her back into his chest.

“Dave would probably never speak to you again if he caught you doing that.” He answers, kissing her cheek.

“Well, at least I know a shortcut to a peaceful life if I need it.” She deadpans, laughing when Aaron pokes at her ribs, the spots he knew were ticklish. She sobers slightly, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “I feel so…stupid for not knowing how to do this.” She grumbles. “At this rate, Jack is going to be a better cook than me.”

That, Aaron thought, was likely to be true. He’d come home from a late meeting recently to find Jack and Emily making boxed Mac and Cheese together, his son clearly leading the charge.

“Em, sweetheart,” he says, encouraging her to turn in his arms, smiling at her when he sees the grumpy look on her face. He leans down to kiss her, a quick thing stamped against her lips, “you’re good at so many things, excellent even,” he squeezes her hip, holding her closer, “cooking just isn’t one of them.”

She scrunches her nose at him, and he can’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss the tip of it.

“You shouldn’t have to do it all the time though.”

He tucks some hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek as he does so. “I don’t mind, Em. At all.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who…I don’t know, contributes more?” She asks, her gaze avoiding his a little as she asks the question.

“You contribute plenty, sweetheart.” He says, his smile gentle as she looks back at him. “And even if you didn’t, I’d still choose you over anyone else. Every time.”

She bites her lip to stop herself from smiling. “That’s a good answer.”

“I thought so.”

The front door to the apartment opening cuts off any further conversation, Jack calling out both of their names as they hear his school bag hit the ground. They both shout hello back, smiling at each other. Aaron looks at the food and then back at Emily.

“It needs a couple more minutes, are you ok to serve it up whilst Jack changes and I get more comfortable?” He asks his suit jacket and tie suddenly feeling a little restrictive.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, I think I can manage that.”

He kisses her one last time before separating from her, walking out of the kitchen and seeing his son in the hallway. Jack runs up to him still in his soccer uniform, a wide smile on his face.

“Aunt Jess said hi!”

“Thanks, Jack,” Aaron replies, ruffling his son's hair, and the boy tries to dodge out of the way. “How was practise?”

“Good!” He enthuses. “I scored twice! What’s for dinner? It smells good.”

Aaron smiles at his son's constant search for food or planning for the next meal, something that amused him. It always made him think of when he was small, enough of a fussy eater it had made Haley take him to the doctor, sure that something was wrong.

“Emily has made spaghetti,” Aaron answers, wildly underselling his own involvement in the making of the meal. He has to suppress his amusement at the way his son’s face falls slightly.

“Emily cooked?” Jack asks, looking unsure, his gaze going past his father and into the kitchen, the dinner that had smelt good until that moment apparently suddenly not as appealing as it had been a few seconds ago.

“I helped, don’t worry,” Aaron says, winking at his son.

“Hey,” Emily calls out from the kitchen, her disembodied voice making both the Hotchners freeze on the spot, “I can hear you, you know.”

Aaron looks back at Jack and tilts his head down the hallway towards the bedrooms. “Let's go change before we eat.”

He takes off his jacket and tie, leaving him in his shirt and suit pants, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, smiling as he does so before he walks back out towards the kitchen. He sees Emily placing dinner down on the dining table, the plates piled high with the meal they had cooked together. A normal moment he thinks he may have taken for granted in another life, but something he treasures. Their eyes meet as she looks up at him, an eyebrow raised as she looks at his exposed forearms, a known weak spot of hers.

“Trying to regain some ground after all the comments about my cooking?” She asks, rounding the table to hug him briefly, her arm around his waist.

“Of course not,” he denies, his lie obvious, as he kisses her back, “I just didn’t want to get any sauce on it.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Sure.”

Jack bounds towards them, the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he runs their first sign he was coming, and they pull apart. Jack wraps his arms around Emily’s waist, a proper hello he hadn’t had the time to give her when he got home.

“Hi, Emily.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She replies, hugging him back. “We should eat before it gets cold.”

They sit down, all taking their usual places at the table, and Aaron can’t help but smile as he watches the love of his life interacting with his son. Love threatens to burst out of him as she enthusiastically listens as Jack tells her about school. His gaze drifts to her left hand, his mind on the ring he had in his sock drawer, and he has to stop himself from jumping up and getting it, from proposing to her over spaghetti on a random Tuesday evening.

He goes to pick up his fork when he finds himself drawn back to her left hand, his brows furrowing as he realises he can see the cut on her thumb, deep enough that he had briefly thought she may have to go to urgent care.

“Em,” he says, gaining her attention, both her and Jack looking up at him as they pick up their own forks, “where is your bandaid?”

She looks at her hand, her mouth already open to tell him it was still there, but she stops when she sees just her skin, the bright red line that still has droplets of fresh blood along it. She then looks at her plate of food before she looks at Aaron and Jack’s, her eyes widening. She looks up at Aaron, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

“Pizza?” She asks, an apologetic look on her face.

He’s already standing up, heading back towards the kitchen. “I’ll get the menu.”

-x-

Tag list

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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hexxborne · 2 years

Text

Requiem

It all started when he pulled the trigger. He’d never had a nightmare so vivid and terrifying. His vision went white, and before he could even blink, it was back to normal again, and he was standing in front of a large marbled door. Looking around the immediate area, he saw elegant statues of unthinkable figures, filigreed veins of gold and silver running through the ivory stone. The floor was just as white, splattered with what appeared to be gold and black paint. He was too stunned to move for quite some time, simply observing the odd, ethereal room.

When he did finally muster up the courage to take a step, the sound echoed loudly around him, easily stopping him dead in his tracks again. It was an awful sound, and something about it told him he was wrong for moving. So he continued to stand and wait, pale jade eyes glancing nervously from statue to statue. The figures were strangely humanoid, surrounded by impossible rings decorated in eyes and fluttering flame. Just looking at them told him they weren’t stone, but something otherworldly and beautiful. The longer he looked, the more they shifted and changed before him. It brought tears to his eyes to perceive such beauty.

When his tears hit the floor, they left more black stains in amongst the gold, white, and black. It took him by surprise, a soft, choked noise sounding in his throat. Suddenly, he felt as the ground began to shake beneath him, nearly knocking him over. When he stood upright again, one of those strange statues had moved to stand before him, though a blinding halo hovered over it this time. No, it wasn’t a statue– It must have been an angel.

The angel spread its many sets of wings and let out an ear-piercing shriek, sending a wave of terror through him. As the angel silenced itself, he fell to his knees without even knowing it, obeying whatever command it had screamed. He could no longer move freely, instead feeling as if he were held in place by invisible angelic hands. A fresh wave of terror washed over him, leaving him trembling in the hands of the angels.

The head angel spoke, flaring its wings once more. “Re- qui- em.” It stated simply, its voice stinging his ears and rattling through his bones. He nodded without thinking, understanding what it meant despite its vague statement. It was his judgement day.

Another figure appeared– Though this one was much different than the others. It was mostly human looking. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, causing him to openly weep as the hands around him began squeezing tighter and tighter. The tall figure stood over him closely and in silence, as if awaiting something.

All at once, the hands began to tear into his flesh, picking through skin and muscle like it was paper. He screamed, and continued screaming as black blood poured out of him, chunks of flesh splattering onto the floor. The angelic fingers seared through him like a hot knife through butter, melting his flesh and lighting his nerves on fire.

His endless screaming continued as the ripping and tearing came to an end, one hand finally pulling a black core from somewhere deep inside him. It handed the core over to the beautiful figure, and suddenly, the agony was over. He was free from the angel’s grasp and free to look himself over, arms wrapping tightly around himself as he recovered from the traumatising vivisection. His sobbing continued though, terror coursing through his veins as he touched his suddenly intact body, wailing in terror as the figure held his blackedned core.

“O, my child,” The figure spoke, its voice soft inside his head. “Why have thou forsaken me?” It’s question burned in the back of his mind as he came to realise he was standing before God himself.

“F-forgive me father, for I have sinned–” He gasped, as if such a plea would help him. The figure leaned over above him, and he could feel a rush of sadness wash over him before it spoke again.

“It is too late for that, my son.” It stopped him, its voice echoing in his mind. He was frozen, awaiting whatever was to come next.

One of the Lord’s fingers came up to hush him softly, pressing against his lip and dragging itself down his throat and chest in an impossibly straight line of white hot agony. He screamed again, and the Lord cried over him, tears dropping onto him like rain and staining his skin a gaudy gold.

Baptised in the ethereal tears of his Lord, the pain stopped for a brief time, before the angels began a shrieking cacophony around them. “Hell!” He heard one of them wail as God held out his obsidian core. “Damnation!” Another scream. “Hellfire will rain down upon you!” They chanted, deafening him. “Fall! Fall! Fall!”

And so he fell.

#𝘗𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺;; Drabbles #(:#rewrite of an old one #blood/#suicide/

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dienamights · 3 years

Text

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you.

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work.

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,”

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement.

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible.

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-”

“How is your hero boyfriend?”

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention.

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change.

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?”

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior.

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention.

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful.

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it.

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time.

He told me so.

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.”

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt.

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.”

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek.

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it.

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

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