#maggie b writes
Text
The Last Ride Chapter 9 (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)
summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.
requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper
contains: cursing, physical fight, verbal altercation, crying, cheating, lots of emotions, kissing, smut!, 6.9k words
a/n: holy shit y'all this is long. sorry. also links aren't working so you might have to go to the browser if you need the masterlist. love y'all
series masterlist
The silence doesn’t last long around us as Uncle Buck and Dad come running towards the commotion. But Chris doesn’t react to their shouts, leaning down and grabbing Jace up by his shirt. I finally make myself known, going to kneel beside Jace until one of Chris’ friends grabs my arm and shakes his head.
“Say it again.” Chris almost begs, his voice dark and dangerous like he’s looking for a reason to hit him again.
Jace’s eyes spew pure hatred back and he curls his lip up in disgust. “Get your fucking hands off me. Do you know who I am?”
“I think you’re a fucking baby who doesn’t know how to respect women.”
For whatever reason that causes Jace to get more upset, as if it isn’t partially true. I feel frozen, like I’m watching a movie unfold in front of me and there’s nothing I can do to affect what happens.
Jace attempts to get up, it’s unclear whether or not he’s trying to get back at Chris again or just simply standing up but the boy on top of him isn’t having any of it.
Chris slams Jace back into the ground, pushing his back into the slightly rocky dirt. “Let me get up asshole” Jace spits out, clearly embarrassed by the crowd of people watching him get his ass kicked.
All that can be heard is a petty laugh from Chris as he looks down at Jace one last time. “Nah. Go ahead. You’re tough. Speak about her that way again and see what happens, pretty boy.”
For once in Jace's entire life… he’s silent. He just looks to the side to avoid eye contact as Chris gets off of him. I thought this was the end, that the nightmare was over, but of course, it’s Jace we’re talking about.
“That bitch would never even like you.” Jace mumbles under his breath, eyes still trained on anything but Chris.
Unsurprisingly Chris looks down at him, both figuratively and literally. What does surprise me, however, is how Chris immediately spits at the pathetic boy on the ground. “Leave my girl the fuck alone, for good.”
This really set Jace off. Despite his inability to commit to a proper relationship, he was always possessive of me. “Your girl? She's only had one dick down her throat and it’s certainly not yours.”
He’s propped up on his elbows now, a familiar smug smirk on his face. All I feel is a pit in my stomach at his words. His words are spoken in front of everyone I care about.
I’m not a slut. It’s only ever been with Jace, and I never once enjoyed it as much as I thought I was supposed to. But Jace always told me I was good. For a long time, his approval was enough for me.
It became less about me finishing and more about having someone to tell me that I was doing a good job. And now he’s sharing my most intimate details in front of all these people. In front of Chris.
I feel eyes on me as the tears well up in my eye sockets, my arms crossed over my body to cover whatever dignity I have left.
Chris takes one look at me standing there watching in horror, before focusing back on Jace who’s now standing up. Jace clearly thinks he’s won this one since he still has a smug smirk even as he wobbles, but his nasty words don’t stand a chance next to the fuming boy who’s walking back towards him.
It all happens so fast, Chris’ sharp boot being kicked into Jace's side with full force. Jace is knocked back into the dirt as Chris shows no sign of stopping his painful movements.
Within a few seconds, my uncle is walking toward Chris to pull him back by his shoulders. “Get the fuck off me!” Chris yells out, eager to return to where he left off.
But Uncle Buck just pulls him back further, his grip strong. “Take a walk boy.”
“But-“ Chris tries to argue but it’s clearly a lost cause because the gaze in my uncle's eyes is more serious than Chris has ever seen it. He drops his head, breathing heavily, too full of respect for Buck to argue.
“Take a walk. Figure out your shit. Then come back, son.”
“Evie?” He asks softly, looking more like a kid being put in timeout than the man who just kicked someone’s ass for me.
“Birdie’s got her. Go.”
Before he does, we lock eyes one more time. But all the anger seems to have vanished from his features and he just looks… disappointed. Before I can even think of something to say, he turns and walks away with his hands on his head.
Once he’s out of eyesight, the crowd starts to dissipate since it’s clear the scene, and the party for that matter, is over. My uncle helps Jace from the ground with my dad’s help and I finally regain my ability to move.
As I come closer, Jace takes a step back like he thinks I’m going to take the next swing. Honestly, I really should. But I just clear my throat and narrow my eyes at him. “Bitch, huh? Too much baggage for you?”
He scoffs, his eyes damn near bucking out of his head. “That’s what you’re worried about? I was just viciously attacked! I need my fucking lawyer.”
My lip curls up in disgust as I watch him pat his pockets for his phone and come up empty. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. You’re such a fucking loser.”
He pauses and looks up at me, giving me a hateful look that turns slowly into a wicked smile. “You want to talk about losers, sweetheart?”
Since I know him well enough to know when he’s going in for what he thinks is a kill shot, I brace myself before shrugging and forcing a mask of indifference. “You can’t hurt me anymore, Jace.” I lie. “I don’t care.”
“What about her?” He says, nodding at Lydia from where she stands a few feet away. As soon as she meets my eye, she goes frozen and pale as if she’s seen a ghost. And before he says another word, I know.
Memories resurface so quickly, that it feels like I’m watching them happen to someone else. Lydia freaking out whenever I touched her phone. The way Jace always remembered only two of our group’s orders at Starbucks- mine and Lydia’s. How conveniently they always seemed to end up near each other at events and parties.
My breathing hitches as I face her fully, fighting as hard as I can to keep my composure. “How long?”
“Y/N, please-” She tries to croak out, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand.
“How fucking long?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment and Jace chimes in behind me with an arrogant flair. “A year. About a week after we fucked to be more accurate. Great week for me.”
Before I can blink, my dad snatches him by the shirt and throws him against the side of the house. “I suggest you start watching your fucking mouth. It’s gonna get you hurt.” Dad lets him go and steps back with a warning look. “Go get your shit so I can get you back to your daddy.”
My head is reeling as I look around dazed. The expressions range from anger to shock, and even worse… pity. I can’t take it anymore, so I turn to rush to my room until I hear Jace call out behind me.
“And tell your little boyfriend, he can expect a call from my attorney.”
I freeze and look over my shoulder, surprising both Jace and myself when I burst into laughter. “Try it and I’ll tell your dad every fucking thing I know. I’ll start by advising him to check his gambling books.”
All the smugness abandons him as he goes white at my words so I give him a huge grin of my own. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
************
By the time I finally force myself to get out of the bath, I’m feeling completely numb. I’d sat in there for an hour, basically just staring at the wall and trying to figure out how I’d been so stupid.
I’m not even sad, not really. But there’s this ache in my heart like something is missing. I guess that’s what happens when you love someone for this long and lose them. Or maybe this is just proof of what my mind has been telling me all along- that I could never be enough.
When I’m dressed, I sit on my bed and check my messages. I’ve fallen out of the habit lately but tonight I’m longing for connection. There are a few worried texts but I ignore most of them, only answering Abby and letting her know I’m okay.
There’s a message from Brielle swearing she had no idea about Lydia and Jace, but I’m not sure if I can believe her, and I don’t have the brainpower to try to figure it out tonight. She’d left along with the other two at my dad’s insistence and I honestly think it was for the best. At least until I figure out who I can and can’t trust.
A sharp knock sounds on my door and I sigh deeply and toss my phone before telling them to come in. Birdie strolls in holding a plate of the Welcome Home cake we never got to cut and I can’t help but smile.
“Hi, my bunny. How are you feeling?” Her voice is so kind and the question is so genuine, I feel like I’m about to crumble in her hands. I try, I really try, not to Iet a tear fall as I nod quickly, but I fail.
She rushes over to me, places the cake on the nightstand, and takes me into her arms. “Let it out, honey. You’ve earned it.”
So I cry. Even though I’m not that surprised, even though I maybe even expected it. I cry for all the wasted youth I gave him. For all the effort I put into trying to be a girl he might love. For all the parts of me, I threw away to make room for him.
And yes, I maybe even cry for Lydia. For the days when I’d have called her my closest friend. I sob into my aunt’s arms until there’s nothing left to give, until my head throbs and my chest aches. Until, before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.
*************
I wake up with a start to an empty and dark room thinking I must have slept through the next day, but realize it’s only been a couple of hours. What the fuck? Isn’t heartbreak supposed to keep you asleep or something?
Groggily, I wrap my throw blanket around my shoulders and head into the living room to see who’s still awake but, to my surprise, it’s empty. I guess they decided to go out since I did technically ruin their party. Fair enough, honestly.
There’s not much to do in the house alone, so I decide to go see the one girl I know who won’t ever let me down. I just hope she’s still awake.
When I get to the stables, the door is cracked a bit and I raise an eyebrow. There must already be someone here. I look down at my pajama pants that I haphazardly stuffed into my muddy work boots, trying to decide if it’s worth the humiliation. Then I remember the events of a few hours ago…yeah, way past that point, I guess.
I don’t know what I expected to find when I pushed the door open, but it definitely wasn't this- Chris leaned against the back wall, knees to his chest and his head in his hands.
He hears the squeak of the door and looks up, his blue eyes stormy and dark. We hold each other's gaze for a long moment, neither of us saying a word until he finally stands.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be in here, I’ll go.” He goes to rush out of the door so I move over to block it and panic, saying the first thing that pops into my head.
“Where’s Evie?”
He pauses, not expecting the question, and blinks quickly. “She..uh.. I took her home.” A look of guilt passes over his face and he flinches. “I can’t believe I fought in front of her. Thank god Birdie grabbed her before she could see me like that.”
He sounds so disappointed in himself that I want to pull him in for a hug but I hold myself back. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
Chris levels me with a look so fierce a shudder goes down my spine. “Don’t do that. That’s on him. Not you.”
“I just don’t understand why you did it,” I admit, studying his boots instead of his face out of nervousness.
“If you think I was gonna sit back and let that bitch of a boy call you out of your name, you’ve lost your mind.” He grinds out with disgust, his skin flushing red as anger seems to settle back in over him. He starts to pace back and forth as my eyes track him in frustration.
"But what does that have to do with you? You’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with me." I say, fighting to keep my voice level and calm. I don’t want to make whatever has forced its way between us bigger but I’m tired of guessing at how he feels.
He laughs bitterly, still refusing to meet my eye as he shakes his head. “Have I? Is that right?”
I sigh, running a hand over my face. “There you go again, speaking in riddles. Why can’t you ever just be direct? I’m tired of playing these games.”
Chris finally stops his pacing and turns to meet my eye. “Games?” He asks, disbelief clear in his tone. “You think this is a game to me? I wasn’t ever playing with this, Scotch.” He gestures between the two of us widely before he spins away from me again, locking his arms behind his head.
The seconds stretch on as I stare blankly at his back waiting to see if he will say more. Just as I’m about to leave him to his thoughts, he faces me again, seeming to come to a decision.
“Fuck it.” He says simply as he crosses the space in three long strides and catches my mouth in a kiss. He braces his hands on either side of my face, the movement so abrupt and passionate that it takes several seconds for my brain to catch up.
The momentum of the kiss causes my back to hit one of the empty stalls slightly but I don't care in the slightest when Chris’ lips are on mine.
He pulls back for a moment, realizing his body moved before his brain had a chance to comprehend what he was doing. “Is this okay? I’m sorry. I don’t ever do shit like that. I just-“
I cut him off with another kiss, my hands pulling down his head to attach his lips back onto mine. This kiss is a lot different than the others we’ve shared in our time together. Usually, it’s short and sweet with smiles and small talk in between, but the passion behind this one is much more clear.
His hands trail on my sides causing me to shiver slightly at the touch. He detaches his mouth from mine again, but before I can get confused about it his lips make contact with my neck.
The way his lips suck softly on my bare skin has my head thrown back in pleasure, his hands coming up to make contact with my chest. “Fuck, Chris. I need to feel you.” I breathe out, reaching my hands towards his belt.
I can feel him hesitate, stiffening when I make contact before he groans and pulls back. His face pulls up in a helpless look and he shakes his head. “Not here.”
I furrow my brows as I try to pull him back to me but he doesn’t budge. “Why not?”
He gives me a look of disbelief as he gestures at our surroundings, kicking his feet at the hay for emphasis. “Scotch, ain't no way in hell I’m having sex with you in this dirty ass stable.”
Disappointment and a tinge of rejection tug at my chest as I nod and take a step back. “Okay.”
Tutting, Chris tilts my face up to his and presses a gentle kiss on my lips. “Don’t give me that look, baby. You know how bad I want you.”
As he speaks, he drops kisses lower and lower down my jawline until he finds a sweet spot on my neck, running his tongue slowly over it.
“But you deserve a bed…” He swirls his tongue as he pauses, his hand on my hip slipping just below my waistband. “And I deserve time.”
Moaning slowly at the sweet torture, I let myself melt into him until the frustration is too much and I push against his chest. “You making me even more horny is just mean if you’re not going to do anything about it.”
His eyes widen slightly at my desperate words as he pulls away, clearly not expecting that from me. “I..uh..never said that.” He looks around the stable. “Just can’t do a thing about it here.”
His answer was not a no, which is all I needed. I reach my hand down once more, fingers making contact with his obvious boner before I lean into his ear. “If you can’t do it here, then you’d better find somewhere you can.”
He searches my face for signs of uncertainty but he comes up short, leaning down to place one more kiss to my lips before replying. “Yes ma’am.”
***************
“Okay, Scotch,” Chris says, turning to me as he throws his truck into park. “We’re gonna have to be very quiet.”
“Why? Are we hunting wabbits?” I ask sarcastically in my absolutely atrocious Loony Toons impression.
He gives me a completely unimpressed stare before he tilts his head up toward the sky. “God, why? Why’d you give me this cornball?”
“Okay. Okay. What’s the plan?” I ask through my laugh, my stomach doing an involuntary flip when his eyes land back on mine.
Instead of answering, he watches me for a second before leaning over the center console and pulling me in for a kiss. It’s short and sweet, his thumb caressing the side of my face. I feel the heat rising to my face even before he pulls away. “Just follow my lead.”
I do exactly that, stepping carefully over the gravel and stepping to the side as he slowly unlocks and pushes open his front door. It makes a long creaking sound and we both hold our breath as we slip inside.
His house has the same classic farmhouse feel as my aunt and uncle’s except for a more antique touch. I smile when I see the floral patterns that adorn almost all of the furniture in the room- a grandma classic.
As if it wasn’t hard enough to keep my steps quiet, Evie’s toys are scattered across the floor like little landmines. I see Chris grimace as he sends a toy car zooming across the carpet accidentally. Just when I’m about to laugh at his clumsiness, I land down on a giant piano mat and suddenly I’m playing Beethoven with my feet.
Our eyes widen at the loud notes before Chris wraps his arms around my waist and snatches me off it. We freeze like we’re in a spy movie and we’ve set off a laser but we don’t hear any movement.
We take the stairs two at a time, moving as silently as possible until we reach the top. As soon as we do, Chris bursts into quiet laughter. “I knew I should have made her pick up her shit before bed.”
After what feels like an eternity we finally make it to his room, one of only two doors on this floor. He opens the door for me and ushers for me to go in first but I can’t help but feel completely awkward.
It’s one thing in the heat of the moment, but the stinging in my foot from where I stepped on a Lego has distracted my mind slightly.
When he closes his door behind him, I study him nervously before whispering, “Do we still have to be quiet?”
Shaking his head, he walks past me and takes a seat at the foot of his bed. “It’s only me up here. I mean, don’t yell or nothin’.”
This pulls me out of my awkwardness a bit and I give him a teasing smile. “Damn. I guess I’ll just have to wait to hear you scream.”
He raises an eyebrow and laughs, prodding his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “You wish.”
Still a bit too nervous to initiate anything, I take a moment to study his room. It’s a lot cleaner than I’d expect from a blue-collar boy, with only a few piles of clothes scattered around the floor. His bed is even surprisingly made.
His walls though are very typically bare, hosting only a small shelf of trophies, a framed Lil Skies vinyl, and a few pictures of friends and family on a corkboard. I scan them curiously, always desperate to know more about him.
I recognize a few of the friends but the picture of him being held by a woman with his eyes holds my attention. He looks about five years old, holding a cotton candy cone with a huge grin as he looks over at her. I run my finger over it gently, before deciding not to bring it up.
Instead, I go for something lighter and turn to point at the vinyl. “Okay, so, there’s being a fan, and then there’s an obsession. Why is it framed? I don’t even see a record player, you fraud.”
His eyes widen in faux offense and he puts a hand up. “First of all, don’t question me about the GOAT-”
“So debatable-”
“Second! You expect me to believe you don’t have a record player collecting dust at home? No chance.”
“Actually,” I say, rushing to defend myself. “It’s definitely been used, thank you very much.”
“How many times?” He questions, leaning forward and manspreading his legs.
At my very obvious wince of guilt, he scoffs and crosses his arms. “Lemme guess. It’s got Bluetooth, don’t it?”
“Okay,” I say, laughing and shaking my head in shame. “Shut up. I hate you.”
“You don’t.” He says with complete certainty and I roll my eyes. There’s that cockiness I’ve come to expect. But when I look back at him, it feels like the energy in the room has shifted a bit and I almost want to squirm.
He holds my eye contact with intensity before he gives
me a soft and firm, “C’mere.”
Anxiousness almost nails me to my spot but I fight it to walk over and stand between his legs, resting my hands delicately on his shoulders as I look down at him. He runs his hands up and down the sides of my legs, pausing to pull me in closer before continuing.
There’s nothing in the world I want to do more than kiss him at this moment so I do. Bending slightly, I press my lips to him in a slow and casual kiss that quickly turns more passionate. He lifts me onto his lap for more access before he hesitates and pulls away.
“Are you sure?” He asks, his eyes bouncing between mine as if trying to detect if my mind has changed. “Nothing has to happen tonight just because you’re here.”
Even without the undeniable honesty in his tone, I would have believed him but hearing him say it out loud makes it that much easier. I nod profusely, leaning back in to kiss him again but he dodges it and takes my face in his hands.
“Gonna need you to say it, Scotch.”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything than I am about this, Chris. I need you.” I make sure to keep my eyes on his so he knows I mean it. But the minute it’s out of my mouth, it’s like a switch flips as he pulls me back in roughly.
He kisses me wildly, his lips moving against mine with every bit of neediness that I’m feeling as well. When his tongue touches mine and coaxes a tremor out of him, I realize just how much power he’s handed over to me. But before I even have the chance to test it again, he flips us over, placing his body over mine as he slides me higher up the mattress.
It doesn’t take long for the kiss with him on top of me to take a turn. My legs are wrapped around him while his hands rest on my ass in order to pull himself closer to me. I can feel his bulge on me through the restriction of his jeans but it only makes me want him more.
He seems like he's slightly lost in the kiss. That or he’s too scared to do anything else. I pull back, a sight whine in my tone as I look him in the eye. “You do know you can touch me right?”
“I just want to make this good for you,” he replies, seeming uncharacteristically sheepish. It’s not often I see him so nervous which only makes me laugh through my breath.
“You’ve already made me more wet than I've ever been and you’ve only kissed me,” I whisper, causing a smile and a sense of relief to wash over him. “I just want to know what it’s like to do this sort of thing with someone who cares about me.”
“Do you trust me?” He asks, as if the answer isn’t blatantly obvious, his hands sliding up my sides again. This time though they’re under my shirt and the feeling is overwhelming.
I nod quickly. “‘Of course I do, Chris.” He smiles, dropping his head back down to my neck to suck on the skin softly. I get lost in the feeling momentarily, his fingers slowly tugging at the fabric that keeps me from him while I try my best to remain still under his touch.
As amazing as it feels, I grow impatient quickly as the throbbing between my legs overtakes any regular thought. “Chris please.”
He pauses on my neck for a moment, lifting my shirt above my head to leave me below him in the Victoria's Secret bra Lydia bought me for my 16th birthday. His eyes linger for a moment before he finally responds, a teasing smirk on his face. “Please what?”
I shake my head and fix my messed-up hair slightly. Of course, the asshole on top of me is going to make me spell it out for him. “Stop making me wait for you.”
“A whole damn summer of driving me insane and you think I’m gonna rush this?” He scoffs playfully before his lips make contact with mine again. His hands find comfort on my chest, causing me to arch my back into the touch.
Expecting another cocky remark at my neediness, it takes me aback when instead he just instructs me to sit up, his voice taking on a deeper affliction. It takes me a second to comprehend why I'm sitting up for him until his hand snakes behind my back and unclasps the lacy fabric with one hand.
It feels very real suddenly but I try not to let myself get anxious under his gaze. I keep my eyes on his face, his kind open eyes reminding me there’s nothing to be worried about. He’s not Jace.
“You’re so beautiful. Like really fucking beautiful.” He whispers as he takes the fabric off me fully, leaving me exposed below him.
Before I can leave behind another snarky remark about how long he’s taking his head dips down to my chest. He places a few kisses on my collarbone before his mouth finally makes contact with one of my nipples.
His tongue swirls around the bud and my hands can’t help but falter to his curly brown hair. The feeling of his lips sucking on me while his hands explore the rest of my body.
He’s true to his word on taking his time with me, and for once I don’t feel the need to rush it and get it over with. For once sex doesn’t feel like a chore.
Slowly, his kisses on my chest travel down my stomach, a soft noise left behind with each one. I squeeze my thighs together in order to relieve some tension that I'm not entirely sure what else to do with.
His fingers begin unbuttoning my pants and tugging gently before I lift my hips to grant him access. He slides them off along with my socks in one swift movement.
“Wait,” I say, causing concern to overtake his face in the dimly lit bedroom.
“Are you okay? We can stop,” he replies, pausing immediately and pulling back.
I just reply by lifting his t-shirt over his head, messing up his hair slightly. “Now we’re more even.” I smile.
He returns my smile, relief in his eyes as he kisses me. A more intimate kiss than before, a softer one that reminds me there’s more than lust between us. “I really like you.” He says, voice low and urgent as if he needs to make sure I know.
For whatever reason this does it for me, more than the touches and the way his hands rest on my side. Not that I didn’t know but the confirmation lights me anew. He really likes me. He likes me for me and not some made-up version of who he thinks I should be.
“I like you more,” I reply, a huge grin plastered on my face as he lowers his body back down to align himself with my center.
He kisses just above the line of my underwear, his thumb placing light pressure on my clit through the fabric while he replies. “Impossible.”
His hands pull on my underwear slowly, as if asking for permission which of course I grant eagerly. Lifting my hips to help him out, I can’t help but flush at how slowly and sensually he pulls them off. He whispers something under his breath that I don’t catch but sounds a bit like ‘beautiful’ before he comes back to me.
Expecting him to slide inside of me at any moment, I sit up and reach down to undo his pants but instead, he pushes me back into the mattress and swats away my hand.
Just as I’m about to question him, I feel his hand reach down to make contact with the wetness that’s pooled up for him, his fingers exploring my entrance slightly as his palm places a light pressure to my bare clit.
I try my best not to moan out at the slightest contact, finding it embarrassing how sensitive I am. It’s not like I've never had an orgasm in my whole life; I just haven’t had one at the hands of another person.
His lips find comfort on my neck again to place a few light kisses before shifting his body down on the bed completely. I shift uncomfortably as his hands slowly slide down my body, the touch leaving prickly goosebumps behind.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this, yeah?” He asks as his face is completely aligned with the section of my body that’s practically begging for him.
“Chris I swear to god if you ask me that again I'll-“ I’m cut off by his tongue licking a stripe through my folds, testing the waters and realizing just how easy it is to get me to shut up.
I place my hand over my mouth at the feeling of his nose brushing against my sensitivity, trying my best to keep my hopes still under his touch.
He pulls off momentarily before lifting my legs over his shoulders to grant him easier access. “If you thought I was going to have sex with you without getting a taste, you are out of your mind.”
I don’t bother replying, refusing to prolong the teasing any longer. But embarrassingly my heart can’t help but flutter at his desire to make me feel good. It’s nice being prioritized for once.
His lips wrap around the throbbing bud as he uses his tongue in an urgency I wasn’t expecting. My hips lift slightly up to meet his face but a hand pushes me into the bed by my lower stomach to keep me still.
My stomach is tensing at the pleasure of his tongue flicking repeatedly and it's near impossible to not let out any noises. A few small whimpers escape my lips without a second thought causing me to cringe slightly at the thought of anyone hearing this.
He slows his movements every once and a while to place delicate kisses on my lower half, practically cherishing me before he continues his relentless work on my clit.
My heavy breathing fills the room and it hitches at the addition of one of his fingers. It slides into me with ease and immediately curls upwards at a teasing speed.
A moan slips out of the palm of my hand and I can feel him smile against me as his finger stretches me out and his tongue continues the flicking movement.
I feel the build-up in my stomach approach but I’m scared of releasing my hand from my lips. I’m not used to having to hold back real moans during sex.
So I tap him on the shoulder, causing the boy to immediately look up at me with eyes that have my heart beating out of my chest. He watches me as pleasure coils inside my stomach, a look of satisfaction and wonder in his eyes.
He pulls his lips away from my core to place another loving kiss on my lower stomach. “Can I put another one in?” He asks, looking up at me for permission.
I nod with a slight fear lingering in my head. Chris' fingers are definitely larger than my own.
He dips his head back down to refocus his attention on my clit momentarily before carefully entering another finger into my core. It must be obvious that it’s been a while because he works slowly.
Soon enough the stretching turns into pleasure and a gasp slips from my lips as he curves his fingers deep inside of me, deeper than before. As his fingers curl up to hit the sweet spot I could never reach, his tongue swirls against my clit at its fastest pace.
His other hand rubs soothing circles against my hip as I cling to him, pleading for more as his tongue and finger find a rhythm.
When I feel my high building, it’s so intense, so unlike anything I’ve experienced before, I almost want to run away. But I’m like putty in his hands as he works over my body, every kiss feeling like worship.
I say his name through a moan and meet his eye as waves of pleasure crash over me, his movements pausing and giving me a break as I ride it out. He crawls up my body, a grin on his face as I settle down and go weak in his arms.
Chris presses kiss after kiss to my face until I giggle and pull away to look him in the eye. “That was-”
“I know.” He cuts in, his cocksure smirk snapping back into place as he raises a brow at me. I roll my eyes and shove him up, unable to hide my smile at his quiet laughter.
We both pause for a second, him seeming unsure how much further I want to go and me not being used to taking control. But something about the way he’s looking at me fills me with confidence and I pull myself back over his lap, straddling him.
He sits up against his headboard, moving me with him, and places his hands on my hips as he studies me. I can see from his expression that he wants to ask yet again if I’m sure, so I cut him off with a hungry kiss, grinding myself against his jeans.
Straining even harder against his pants, he groans and gives in, reaching down to tug off his belt quickly. I slide off of his lap so he can stand and get off the rest of his clothes, my eyes frozen on his bulge as he removes his boxers.
My jaw drops as his length is revealed and I tear my eyes away to give him an incredulous look. Before I can stop myself, I stutter out a stunned, “Is that going to fit?”
His eyes dance with amusement, biting his lip to keep from outright laughing at me before he nods. “You can take it.”
Stepping over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box of condoms before going to put it on. My heart starts to flutter a bit when I realize that it’s a new and unopened box and I hide my smile.
Finally covered, he walks back toward me so I lie down on instinct, figuring he’ll turn me around if he prefers backshots but he tuts and shakes his head. “Uh uh, baby. This ain’t a laid back kinda night.”
He lifts me and takes my place, bringing me down to straddle him again. Panic floods me as I realize what he wants. “Chris… I don’t know…I’ve never done that before.”
Embarrassment makes me look away from him but he grabs the back of my neck and gently tugs me down for a kiss. “It’s okay, Scotch. I got you.”
Nodding slowly, I let the feeling of safety settle over me before I give up control. Chris guides me up by my hips, placing me against his dick but letting me set the pace.
With a steadying breath, I slowly lower myself down inch by inch, gasping as he fills me. When I think there’s no way I could possibly take anymore, I look down and realize he’s only halfway inside. Meeting his eyes, I give him a helpless look and he squeezes my hips.
“You’re alright, baby. Just like that.”
I can hear the strain in his voice as he tries not to move to let me adjust and it spurs me on until I completely bottom out. Chris whispers a quiet string of curses, screwing his eyes shut in pleasure. “Fuck, I knew you’d feel like this.”
Moaning at his words and feeling my wetness pool around him, I rock my hips and throw my head back. I swirl my hips, trying to find a rhythm that feels right until Chris lifts me again.
This time, he’s more urgent and a bit rougher, tugging me up and down as he thrusts his hips up to meet mine. I move with him, letting him push deeper inside of me until I want to scream. I want to lean down and kiss him again but the friction between us feels too good to break the rhythm.
Deciding to fight for my sliver of dominance back, I brace my hands on his chest and set my own tempo. It clearly drives him crazy, his hands gripping my hips tighter as he moans out my name. Not a pet name. Not even Scotch. But my name. And the way it sounds on his lips is enough to have me clenching against him.
“Fuck.” He groans, his hands traveling up to squeeze my breasts as they bounce with our movements. “That’s my fucking girl.”
My moans must get too loud because he pulls me down and smashes his lips against mine, swallowing every whimper he coaxes out of me. I try to hold off when I feel another orgasm tearing through me, desperate to stretch this feeling out forever. But it’s no use.
“Chris, I’m coming-” I try to say against his lips but he already knows, pulling back to watch me fall apart on top of him.
I press my face into his shoulder as I come around him, my teeth grazing his skin as I shudder with pleasure. Knowing I’m about a second away from tapping out, he picks up his pace, his lips going to the base of my throat.
He lets out a strangled sound before going limp and wrapping his arms even tighter around me. Neither of us moves a muscle, not even bothering to pull out as we breathe heavily skin to skin.
There’s a moment of fear, of insecurity, when I’m not sure what will happen next. So I lie as still as I can hoping to prolong the moment when everything changes. The fear stays as he finally pulls away and goes to clean up. It persists when he comes back and hands me an oversized shirt and a pair of his boxers.
It isn’t until he’s laid down beside me, my body pulled flush against his that I understand. Not until he leans me back to press a sweet and casual goodnight kiss on my lips.
He’s not anything like the boy I loved before. He can be a safe place to land
🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @bueckerssturns @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @fwskullz @luv4kozume @breeloveschris @leighbronk @sophia-77n @xoxo4chrisss @ribread03 @h3arts4harry @chrissystur @pepsiboyy @watercolorskyy @sturnsmia @rorylovesmatt @fake-sturniolos @slut4chriss
#maggie b writes#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo au#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo headcanon#cowboy chris sturniolo#cowboy!chris#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo fandom#sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo smut#maggie b talks too much
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very interested in how the storyline of ronan's sexuality is developed in the dream thieves as a battle between kavinsky and gansey while adam is almost never present in these scenes, which makes it even more interesting that we found out in CDTH that ronan was set on adam the moment he saw him. i think that ronan is attracted on some level to both gansey and kavinsky (you can draw the lines of how much romantic intention you think he hold towards either of the yourself, that's a rabbit hole I would need a whole other post to go down) but more so I think he was attracted to the IDEA of both of them and certain qualities that each possessed, and that the real question wasn't does ronan want gansey or kavinsky because we know he wants adam but rather who's qualities resonate more with who ronan is, or who he is choosing to be at this critical moment in his character development. kavinsky is a dangerous thrill and often comes wrapped in ronan's other favorite self destructive attempts to outrun himself, while gansey is ronan's history and proof of his deep capacities for loyalty and love. he tells kavinsky it was never going to be me and you and that it's not going to be ronan and gansey because that was never the question- maggie was obviously always planning on bluesy and pynch. the answer to who ronan WANTS in adam. the question of who ronan IS- that's what he's trying to decide here. his self hatred is such a heavy weight on him and theme in tdt, and the kavinsky/gansey dichotomy represents the the path he will choose to take to deal with it- keep try to drive faster than his demons or accept that he can still be loved even if he isn't the person he once was. the dream thieves my beloved ronan lynch my beloved
#obviously I'm not the authority on this lmao these r just my thoughts but I would love to hear ur thoughts as well!!!#this has been in my drafts for a while while I kept updating and tweaking it but I think this is the best way to say what I'm trying to say#also lot of kavinsky posts here at kazbiter recently not very sure what's up w that#anyways yeah I really do think this is why she did it this way like I don't think kavinsky ever even says adams name?? i could b wrong tho#and I always found that interesting and while I appreciated he was the leader of ronsey nation I was like how does he not know abt adam#and this is my conclusion I think it was an active writing choice of Maggie's bc the dichotomy of gansey/kavinsky just really works for#ronans personal overarching plot of the book that is undoubtedly his in trc
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Bryde is such a weird character. why was he included he’s such a loser and i still don’t understand his role in all the bullshit.
#post#i’m out of the glow of new-book-maggie-is-a-genius#i’ve been wondering why i can’t reread the dreamer trilogy and i think it’s because Bryde is so heavily featured and b) Greywaren was short#maggie stopped caring about this trilogy halfway through writing it but she had already signed the book deal so#i think my favorite thing about the books is all Declan POVs and that’s it#Declan was the only character with a solid arc#i had so much hope for Hennessy and Carmen to have good arcs but i don’t think theirs were satisfying in the end
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*debates whether to make Maggie have ASPD and SzPD*
#rue rants#Bc it A) makes it easier to write her bc I’m fairly certain I have something like those two#B) makes her a little more interesting#C) Gets rid of the problem of Harper being the only cluster B character and getting killed off#TAACC#Maggie Mendoza TAACC
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PERVERTED I c.grimes
☆ WORD COUNT - 3.3K
CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - you and carl had been best friends for as long as he can remember but lately he's feeling new emotions towards you, ones he doesn't think are too good for a girl like you. as if the world had been listening to his sins, they let him stumble upon your panties, left idly in your laundry basket.
☆ WARNINGS - smut, pervert!carl, innocence kink, corruption kink, masterbation, dom!carl, sub!reader, dirty talk, wet (day)dream, kinda manipulative carl, upskirting, aged up characters, use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
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you still remembered the day you sat in your dad's farmhouse, surrounded by your family when you heard blood curdling screams from a man out front. you were young then, maybe just after turning eleven when you escaped out the front door, seeing a man carrying what appeared to be his son in his arms, covered in blood.
that was the day you met your soon to be, best friend.
over the years, you and carl grew close. some would say you were best friends, that was what you'd say too. you grew up with all older sisters so you didn't really have anyone your age growing up. not until you met carl and you knew you could trust him with anything. he always told you so. told you that you need no one if not him.
eventually you landed yourself in alexandria. with everything that had happened back at the farmhouse, then at the prison, then the death of your dear sister beth, maggie decided it would be best if you went to live with her and glenn. so that was exactly what you did.
alexandria was unlike anywhere you'd ever been your entire life.
it was blissfull, peaceful.
carl loved alexandria too. it had everything he could possibly need. his own room, his own comics, posters... you. he'd been sitting idly on his bed, flipping through a comic book and not so much as taking notice to the absolute mess in his room. he usually got like this on weekends, letting the room go absolutely horrid with a mess. he knew by any minute now you'd come stalking through the door, brows furrowing at the untidiness of his room.
knock !
ah, there you were.
carl tried to fight back his smile as he tossed the comic book to the side. "come in!" he yelled, flipping himself onto his back as he'd been laying on his stomach.
with no surprise, you stalked through the door. your lips were pressed into a smile as wide as anything, pretty white dress sat across your figure. it made carl remember just how innocent you were to the world around you. you had no idea of what thoughts ran through men's minds when they saw you. he had an overwhelming fear to protect you from it. but if he did, he wasn't too sure if he could protect you from him, too. "hi!" you practically beamed as you came in through the bedroom door.
"hey." situating himself up on the bed. "how was work?"
you worked in the kindergarten near your house. you'd always liked kids, having a certain bond with them that no one could quite explain. you liked taking care of them, you liked playing with them. judith was one of the many you took care of. of course, you were only eighteen so you didn't take care of them full time, you worked with another one of the staff members. "good!" seating yourself on the bed. "i got off early so i helped carol with her pie."
carl couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. his little baker. "that's good, baby."
baby.
to some, that would seem absurd to call your best friend. it would seem like the time of thing that you'd call your girlfriend or your boyfriend. that was what your new friend ron had told you when he'd heard it himself. that night you asked carl if it was odd, if the names he was calling you truly were weird. nobody else called you those names but you supposed you'd never questioned it for how long he'd been doing it. he'd shrugged his shoulders, telling you not to listen to ron and that it was, in fact, normal but if ron or anyone else had called you such names that you should tell carl immediately.
you'd only nodded your head, brain sort of scrambled.
"are you still okay for tomorrow?" you questioned, eyes scanning his face.
every saturday was the same. he'd come over to yours or you'd come over to his. tomorrow was scheduled to be your house, carl was supposed to come over and you'd have your saturday sleep over, filled with movies, junk food, really anything a teenager could get their hands on in an apocalypse. "'course." he practically scoffed out.
it was a tradition, one that could never be broken. "okay." you grinned, eyes flickering across the room before your smile slowly faltered. "carl, your room's a mess!"
carl only groaned in response, picking back up the comic and landing it on his face. he began arguing, telling you to leave it but you were already beginning to clean around the room, shocked by the state it had been in.
knowing he couldn't convince you to stop, he peeled the comic book off his eyes to take a look at you. and that was when he saw it. you bent down to pick up something that had been tossed idly on the floor. he watched as your skirt rode up, giving him a view of pretty pink fabric, covering what he so desperately needed to see.
instantly, his eyes widened slightly.
he'd thought about you like this before. it was only natural for a boy who grew up with you by his side for what felt like his entire life. he had you looking up at him with those doe eyes all the time not to mention the way you paraded around in dresses and skirts as if no one could see.
he slipped the comic book down onto his crotch, covering his obvious hard on. perhaps he was the problem. perhaps the problem was the way his eyes stared at the place he should have been looking away from.
but his feelings had been so... strong lately. it was like something had snapped inside of him and he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you.
more importantly, the sounds you'd make as he slammed his dick inside of you, or how wet you'd get over the simplest of things.
after all, he was your best friend, he'd seen you in many ways. he'd noticed it before, when he was touching you a little too much and suddenly you couldn't get comfortable, the smallest of whimpers leaving your lips as you cuddled into him, thinking the feeling would go away.
he knew exactly what he'd been doing.
his day dreams were cut off by rick entering the room, without knocking. that was how he always knew when it was you at his door, the only one in the world who knew how to knock.
you'd gone home some time earlier, leaving him with his impending thoughts. he'd tried not to think about it, about you, truly. but the way he'd seen your pretty panties lining your clothed pussy earlier had practically sent him over the edge.
"hey." rick walked inside the room, glancing around. "your room looks clean." clothes folded away, nothing thrown on the floor, no cups or dishes sat on the desks. "so i take it y/n was here."
"yeah." carl sat up against the headboard of his bed. "did you need something?" because rick didn't just make his way to his room for no good reason. i mean, he was a busy man.
he scratched his beard. "yeah, was gonna ask because a couple of us are going on a supply run tomorrow and i was wondering if you wanted to come." tomorrow. saturday. you and carl's night.
he contemplated.
the way his mind had been moving lately, perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea to have a sleepover with you just yet. he needed some time to himself, to cool off. he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself if you cuddled up against him the way you usually did, your legs hooked around one of his, sighing softly when you had no idea what he was doing to you.
maybe it would be better off if he called tomorrow night off. it was only one saturday, right? "yeah, yeah sure lemme just run over to y/n's and let her know."
rick was somewhat curious when it came to you and carl. you always looked so happy next to him, big eyes lighting up while he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. he'd also seen you two going through the trenches, even when carl was covered in mud and blood, some walkers, some human, some even his own, he'd still pull you aside, grasping your arm and holding you to the side, making sure nothing got to you, not even one of the group members. he wondered sometimes, just what was going on between you two. sometimes, he thought you guys were dating in secret, behind his back which he wouldn't be all too angry about. but there was a longing look in his son's eyes, one that told him he didn't have her to himself, not yet.
"oh, well if you have plans―"
carl was quick to cut the man off, picking up the jacket you'd folded and left on his chair. "no, no it's fine." slipping his arms in the holes. "she won't mind."
he wondered if you would.
surely, you were bound to be upset. you loved the saturday sleepovers. he'd imagine that you'd give him those doe eyes, showing just how upset you were but you'd shrug it off with a little smile, telling him to be careful. you always wanted so desperately to please him. he could see this, he adored you for it.
across alexandria, carl knocked against your front door. he waited momentarily before doing the same thing again. when he received no response, he made it his business to slide the unlocked door opened. he called out for glenn and maggie across the hallway, receiving, yet again, no response.
then his feet made it towards the stairs. he found himself walking around until finally, he stood in front of your open bedroom door. "sweetheart?" he called out, this time much softer.
from the door at the end of the hallway, he heard the response. "one minute!" the yell was from you, behind the door. "'m in the shower!" you had this weird thing about you where you showered multiple times a day, scrubbing your skin raw. sometimes you thought you'd never scrub off the mud that covered you from when you lived on the roads. carl noted that when he'd see your arms slightly red after the shower, not from the hot water. but he never mentioned it.
"okay!" he yelled back, now suddenly aware of the running water. "I'll be in your room!"
he heard a muffled 'okay' from behind the door before entering your room.
the walls were baby pink, everything else being a mixture of white and pale colours. what could you say, you were a sucker for pastels.
the room was like it had always been. he'd been in there a thousand times before, whether it was for a sleepover, for a mere five minutes to pop in when he was on his break or reading a comic book to you while sat perched on your bed, or holding you while you cried.
the point was, carl knew you through everything in your entire life. this room was practically his too. the same way his own was practically yours.
one thing was for sure, there was enough of each other's clothes in the other's room for it to be considered one another's.
speaking of clothes, his eyes snapped over to the basket of clothes that sat idly on your bed, waiting to be thrown in the wash. he assumed that's what you were going to do when you were out of the shower.
his eyes caught a glimpse of one of the shirts he owned. he knew you took it. rolling his eyes, he picked it out of the basket, stepping backwards as a couple pieces of clothes left.
"fucking idiot." he mumbled before picking the pieces up, placing them back inside the dirty basket. then his eyes caught that familiar pink cotton material.
he swore he held his breath.
the panties you'd worn earlier, clad across the part he so desperately wished to see. he couldn't help the way his hand reached down before standing up. every other piece of clothing, he'd tucked back into the basket. but this particular piece of clothing, he held it for a moment.
was it so wrong? to think of your innocent best friend in such a way? had you ever... thought about him like that?
questions swarmed his mind before you entered the room.
he spun around, tucking the garment into his back pocket. he used both his hands to lift the flannel back over his jeans, making sure the garment couldn't be spotted at all, even if someone had looked from behind.
"you okay?" you questioned, now dressed in a pale yellow shorts and a large sweater. it was getting dark outside, he noticed. probably your pijamas.
he watched as your hair dripped onto the floor beneath you. "yeah, yeah, i... needed to talk to maggie about something." he didn't know why he was lying. he really did need to tell you something but his mind was in scrambles, thinking of the piece of fabric in his back pocket, he couldn't possibly respond right.
"oh." you faltered slightly. "well, she's not here but―"
you frowned at how quickly he cut you off. "that's fine, i'll just tell her tomorrow." he crossed your bedroom, passing you to walk out the door.
you followed in confusion, wondering why he'd been so eager to run away. "well, i'll tell her you came by." wondering what was up with him at all. carl never acted like this.
suddenly, the boy swung around. "no, no don't tell her." waving you off. your brows were knit together in utter confusion. "i don't think i wanna talk about it with her anymore so... night!" practically racing out the front door and slamming it in his leave.
you stood stumped at your front door, confusion evident in just your eyes. "night carl..." mumbling before turning around, wondering what all of that had been about.
the sun had set when carl finally took the garment out again.
he knew it was wrong, he had to know. at least subconsciously, anyway because he waited until everyone else in the house had fallen asleep until he took them out. at this point, he'd been dressed down to just his boxers. it was late, time for the sleep he knew he wouldn't get. not when that image of you, bent over, was burned into his mind.
the mere thought had his hand inching downward while his other held the pretty panties in his hands. he stopped himself.
this is wrong. he thought. so fucking wrong.
but he felt so tempted.
the panties sat in his hands were the same ones you'd wore today, the same ones he'd seen you bent over in. he couldn't stop thinking about it, whether his hand continued down or not.
what you didn't know, couldn't hurt you.
surely, you'd never find out about something like this. he was safe, for now. his hand inched down, tracing just beneath his boxers before pulling out his length. he felt himself groan at the mere touch. he'd been hard since you left, it hurt. and he knew if you were here, you'd do anything to make sure he wasn't in pain.
even if he meant the blasted thing he was about to do.
his hand wrapped around his dick, he breathed out before pumping it once, then again, then again. "fuck." he breathed out, his head falling back and his mouth falling open.
he'd touched himself a thousand times before, for as long as he could remember, his mind always traced back to you. it was impossible to escape your grace. but there was something about holding your panties in his hands that made him feel even better.
as wrong as it may have been, he couldn't stop himself now.
if he was going to do it, he was going to go all in.
aimlessly, he used his other hand to prop your panties against his cock. they fell so loosely around his length causing him to groan. with his right hand, he held onto the panties before pumping his cock over and over again. he groaned, loudly enough before practically shoving his face in the pillows beneath his head.
"fuck, fuck, fuck..." his hands were big, long slender fingers wrapping around him. he could imagine you trying to take it. he'd imagine he'd have to coax you, gently running them up and down your thighs before pushing them inside. you'd be so wet, gushing over his fingers.
then he imagined you taking his dick, an impossible task.
he could imagine your pretty virgin hole, so tight. he couldn't even imagine you taking your own fingers let alone his dick. your walls would be so tight around him, clenching as he pulled every last moan out of you. you'd whine and writhe against him, it all becoming too much too quick.
and he wouldn't care. "take it, take it." carl mumbled into the air of his bedroom, eyes shut and imagining you while his hand never stopped its constant attack on his own dick. his hand sped up, so quick that he could barely breathe. "hah, good girl." his voice breaking, slightly higher pitched. "my good girl, mhm, good girl." breaths falling from his lips like chanting prayers.
it was wrong, to think of you like this. he knew that but he was too damn perverted.
he'd imagined what he could have done this morning, you bent down and picking something off the floor. he could have grasped your hips, holding them in place and peeking the skirt of the dress above your hips, getting the view he really wanted.
he'd imagined peeling the fabric of your panties away, getting a view at what he needed the most. the same fabric that was sat around his cock.
he couldn't stop the noises that left his lips, trying so hard to stay quiet but the way your panties felt against him was enough to have his hips rolling even if they hadn't wanted to. it was like you were there in front of him. he could ram into you as he pleased, holding your hips close as you sat on top of him. but he'd do all the work, of course, anything to coax those little whines out of you.
the many times he'd pulled at your hair for a reaction or rubbed your thighs gently, every murmur of a whimper that would leave your lips. he imagined it a thousand times louder now.
he couldn't help himself, flipping over so he was sat propped up on his knees but his hips thrusting forward into the little material.
the head of his dick hit against the mattress with every thrust, your panties wrapped up in his fingers and his cock.
he felt a sudden familiar feeling build up in his stomach. "fuck, baby, feel s'good." practically pussy drunk by now, despite the fact he hadn't even touched your pussy yet. "shit, jus' like that, c'mon, sweetheart."
"please, carl!" he could hear your whiny voice now. "touch me, please, please."
your voice, albeit in his head, was enough to send him over the edge.
he came with his eyes closed and mouth open, a moan falling from his lips. not just any moan, your name. he felt creamy liquid gush out of his dick, landing all over the pink panties that lay in his hands.
he thrust his dick over and over until he ran dry. then, he collapsed with a pant. his lungs were burning, they were raw and his head fell against the linen pillows. he barely so much as glanced down to your stained panties that wrapped around his fingers.
one thing was for sure, he needed to get to this damn saturday sleepover. fuck the run.
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#carl#grimes#carl grimes#carl x reader#carl grimes x reader#carl x you#carl grimes x you#carl x y/n#carl grimes x y/n#carl imagine#carl grimes imagine#carl grimes drabble#carl grimes oneshot#carl grimes smut#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes angst#carl drabble#carl oneshot#carl smut#carl fluff#carl angst#the walking dead#twd#twd x reader#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd imagine#twd fluff#twd angst#twd oneshot
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pt XVII good omens explained but im in tears at 3:30 am and on sleep meds
Oh it's been a while since we did one of these innit what was the last tine? Jan? Well the Mascot is back with a part XVII because this fandom valentine's day posts wrecked me emotionally and i took the usual sleep meds (we all know how that goes) so I'm here to make bad decisions y;all. Ignore all types or mistakes im not responsible for anything eber it's all the metatron's fault.
there are two entities crowley and aziraphela and they love each othner so much it h8urts ow
heaven has embraced minimalist interior decor and minimalist empathy it was a 2 for 1 offer at bunnings (australian maggots you proud good)
hell has embraced cluttercore with regards to interior decor and projected trauma bunnings was real generous
crowley was once an angel but the angel we knew it not him and that hurts but moving on is must because otherwise disrespect but she made stars and it was pretty just like her
im so tired. aziraphale is still an angel he';s very good at forgiveness whoch is nice but sometimes people dont want to be forgiuven they want to be dead isntead
that was not the setence i intended to write but it's accurate after the final fifteen ahahahahahhahahahahahaha do ihave trauma yes i went to bunnings because i liked hell's projections
the antichrist is very cute and he's good at the law of strraction he tells satan you fuck right off satan you're nOT MY REAL DAD which is so cool you go adam you GO and so then his read dad becomes his read dad there may have ben necromancy involved
anathema and newt are existing and she hit crow,yes bentley but that's fine because it burned to the ground anyway you know whatsw not fine crowley kneeling on the aslphalet and me that's what
nina and maggie veyr cute not yet but eventually because yes fuck lindey linday forgeot her nmae
aziraphale is very cute trauma bitchy bean
crowley is very kind trauma irritation disaster
eyes shutting it's all good but madam tracy has a BED AHAHAH you know what you do on bed it's SEXY THINGS hehhee like like stuff toys
so basically hemon hell are both like crowley azi you fools and then theyre like AAAAAAAAH GABRIEL but it's fine and the second coming is happening but azi is like nina maggie love so muriel is sent down
amd then crowley ad azi are like POOF FALL IN LOVE but nina is like HOHO WHAT THE FUCK nad the demons go WHEEEE and then crowley goes to heaven and then aziraphale goes to heabem and it's a;;; sad
gabriel is naked anc he was nasty first then felll in love with beelzebun then went naked and then back in love so now theyre both in alpha centaryie
that's a triple star system btw alpha a b and proxuma centauri which is the cloest star to earth aside from obviopuw crowley doesnt want to leav e earth far behind mkigkrkgw
boom azi gone all croiing im listening to dont bother from the sounstrack on loop since i started writing this
metatron oat milk evil azi scared crowley mr darcy we're crying yeah
yay all done now asleep jno bepop ya yes blruryry my meds packet looks lime a furry opposoum
anyway
so fucking tired i cannot see what im typing
@howmanyholesinswisscheese help
posting without rsding it through awahoooooooooooooooo
#good omens#good omens mascot#weirdly specific but ok#asmi#maggots#good omens fandom#crowley#aziraphale#lgbtqia#neil gaiman#aziracrow#final fifteen#valentine's day#i forgive you#dont bother#david arnold#ineffable idiots#ineffable husbands#ineffable spouses#ineffable divorce#good ineffable omens#ineffable brainrot#good omens brainrot#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#ineffable wives#ineffable lovers
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Hi! I just wanted to say that I discovered your top 30 Richonne list a few days ago and I've been down the meta rabbit hole you've so wonderfully crafted this entire week so far. I've cried and smiled so much reading them. Each post is just so beautiful.
I was reading one of your Reveling in Richonne posts this morning for episode 10 x 04 where Michonne talked with Ezekiel about how much she still misses Rick and loves him so much and that she misses his walk and now I can't get over it. Now I'm thinking about all those times when she looked at Rick walking towards or away from her pre- and post-canon where she would be thinking the man I'm crushing on, then eventually the man I love is so sexy. Is there any chance you can do a post speculating those moments where they are both checking each out specifically regarding Michonne checking out Rick's walk?
Also I cant wait for you to do a Reveling in Richonne continuation based on TOWL 👀? So excited! Lastly I just need you to know that my Richonne withdrawals have been pretty bad now that TOWL has concluded. So discovering your blog and your metas have been giving me my whole entire life and I just want to say thank you and that I really appreciate all the thought and beauty you put into your posts. You're amazing!!!! 👏🏽 👏🏽 🤩 💖
Hi @rct85 ! I'm so encouraged by your message, thank you so much. 🥰 I love that this richonne reveling rabbit hole could help with the richonne withdrawal. I’m feeling it too and really miss seeing them on screen each week. 🥲 Thank goodness we were spoiled with years of richonne content that I’ve just been playing on a loop in my head. The second I'm finally able, I'm looking forward to going all out and writing about every golden moment from TOWL. The towl thoughts and observations are abundant lol.
And I really like that thought of highlighting the times that Michonne was looking at Rick and thinking this man I'm crushing on and later in love with is so sexy. I can definitely speculate on those moments and I've placed my extra self’s speculation right below. 😊⬇
I focused on Michonne specifically for this one because if I were to make a list of times Rick was looking at Michonne and thinking this woman I'm crushing on/in love with is so sexy it would be wildly long because it's every single moment he and Michonne are on screen together. Like truly from TWD 3.06 at the fence to the TOWL 1.06 finale Rick looks like he's thinking that. 😋 While Michonne can be a little more subtle than Slick Rick, she's still head over heels for her husband and I think I pinpointed some clear moments where she was noting how fine her man is and appreciating that walk. 😏 Thanks again for reading my posts and for this kind message! 💗
Moments Michonne Was Checking Out Her Man’s Walk/Thinking Rick Is Fine 😋
Exhibit A:
It started real early if you ask me. 😌 At this point our Michonne had been abandoned by her only friend, unsuccessfully gaslit by the governor, chased down and shot by Merle, and passed out killing walkers at the prison fence. She’d been put through a whole lot in mind and body…but her eyes clearly still work just fine as she seems to be taking in this handsome stranger in front of her.
And sis is an observant person so I wouldn’t at all be surprised if she had a conscious thought that this man from the prison is attractive, even here in their first exchange. Thinking about how she described Maggie and the Governor based on appearances in this ep, I’d bet that had Michonne had to describe Rick this early, some type of good-looking adjective would‘ve been used.
(*Also the footnote for all of these bits of evidence is that Rick is absolutely captivated by her in each of these moments too 💯)
Exhibit B:
Clear is where that Richonne attraction was loud and on display from both of them. We don’t see Rick walk away in this scene at the end of the ep but uh Michonne does. 😊 And of course she likes what she sees with that lingering look and smile she gives. And all that car key shuffling - it’s giving Rick is pretty eager but maybe she is too 🤭
Exhibit C & D:
I put these two moments side by side because I love how similar they are in the way Rick walks up to her and the way Michonne smiles at him. To think one scene is during their early s4 crush era and the other is during their s7 honeymoon ep, just goes to show these two have been smitten a long long time and always will be. In both moments I know Michonne loves seeing his walk just like Rick loves seeing her smile.
Exhibit E:
As she observes Rick here, I think Michonne has a lot of thoughts going through her head, which naturally are deeper than just checking him out. On a larger level, she’s realizing that Rick has unique qualities that she loves and respects and recognizes in her own self. She saw firsthand the way Rick walks the walk when it comes to protecting his family and she’s fallen in love with him. But I think an appreciation for his literal walk can be included in those thoughts during this scene as she starts to slowly become more cognizant that she sees Rick as a lot more than just a friend.
Exhibit F (Pt. 1 & Pt. 2):
I may have forgot if this was a list of Michonne’s thoughts or mine with exhibit f lol. But I’m just gonna venture to say that she and I shared the same appreciation for Rick’s walk in that barn. It’s Season 5 Rick - of course Michonne was feeling a type of way about him. And she might not have agreed with him punching Aaron but I know she wasn’t mad at that walk.
Exhibit G:
Seeing Rick’s clean-shaven face for the first time was Michonne’s most blatant display of attraction towards him pre-canon and she was definitely noting how fine he is. And from my posts on the scene, it’s no secret how much I love this moment and it’s no secret how much these two were into each other. I also just added a later s5 moment of Rick seeing Michonne in the constable windbreaker for the first time because it gives a similar energy. It’s cute how Rick and Michonne both have such obvious attraction and intrigued reactions to seeing each other in ways they haven’t seen each other before.
(That’s also why I thought it was so funny and doomed that their plan was to pretend like they don’t know each other at the CRM because Richonne hasn’t been able to mask their blazing attraction to each other since season 3)
Exhibit H:
This is such a sweet moment and I always adore seeing the slightly bashful way Michonne can’t help but stare at her man and smile after their first night together. And the way Rick can sense her looking at him and then smiles and reaches for her. It gives me life. This had to make this list because I’m pretty sure “the man I love is so sexy” is one of the direct quotes from Michonne’s mind in this scene.
Exhibit I:
Even when injured Rick’s walk is hot and Michonne knows it. 😋 The scene above and a couple more in this episode were clear signs of Michonne admiring her man inside and out. They were both so cute and couply and in love in this ep and I’ll never get over it.
In The Ones Who Live…
Each of these towl moments deserves dissertations so I’ll wait to elaborate because dissertations are coming later on. But I still had to include them on this list because they’re prime examples of Michonne loving Rick’s walk and/or loving how sexy her husband is - with the last one being the pinnacle 😍
Exhibit J:
Exhibit K:
Exhibit L:
Exhibit M:
Exhibit NOPQRSTUVWXY&Z:
#richonne#richonne family#richonne list#thank you for giving me an opportunity to be extra again and go down memory lane 🙏🏽💖#the ones who live#towl#rick x michonne
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This is a bit of a dark topic so I don't know if you feel comfortable writing about it (I completely understand if you don't). I was thinking about Daryl comforting his partner after the war against the Saviors. Maybe she was taken to the sanctuary with him and had to go through all that, she's tired of fighting and losing people, and she's seriously thinking about giving up, maybe she even hurts herself and Daryl notices it and talks to her and It helps her have a little hope again. It can be completely angst or a little suggestive-angst lol, whatever seems best to you❤️
Tysm for sending this!!
Darylxfemale!reader
Warnings: self harm, implied SA, implied depression
You were home now… well, at hilltop. Home was gone but you were here, not there, not in that cell and you thought you’d feel relieved but you just didn’t really feel anything. You still felt just as trapped in your mind.
You got out with Daryl, both high on adrenaline as you ran half the way back to hilltop and trudged the rest of the way.
Right after you had both gotten out and far enough away, Daryl cupped your face and checked you over then gave you a bone crushing hug, as if just to check you were really real but after that you two hadn’t spoken.
Even now, back at safety, sharing a room once again, neither of you had really, truly acknowledged each other’s presence, still dealing with the minefields in your heads.
Maggie hadn’t let Daryl go out hunting for a while since she was wary of him being captured again and that only served to heighten Daryl’s anger and frustration and you could feel it at night when he’d lay awake but didn’t talk.
You were both hurting and both not talking about it.
It felt like your brain was on an endless loop, replaying everything that happened, everything Negan had done and said to you and it left you with a nauseating pit of anxiety in your stomach that wouldn’t leave.
You knew you were supposed to be happy now, supposed to be happy now you were with Daryl and you should be grateful to be alive but you weren’t.
You felt nothing.
The worst part is that it wasn’t alarming to you.
One night, after a long day of avoiding Daryl around hilltop, you’d decided to take a cigarette from the box in his bedside drawer.
You weren’t a smoker but you’d trued once or twice on the road with Daryl.
Your stomach clenched at the memories of being on the road. At that time you were sure you’d never miss it but now you do but you suppose it’s like everything. When you look back on life, anything could be nostalgic because you only remember the good feelings.
Feeling anything would be better than feeling nothing, emotionally.
You walk out into the balcony and sit in the chair that Daryl usually sits in in the mornings.
You slouch back and light the cigarette with the metal lighter which you also took from the draw.
You take the first drag, nothing.
another drag, still nothing.
Still feeling nothing in your head.
Are you capable of feeling again? You’re not sure if you want the answer.
You can still feel physically right?
You ponder over it for a while. Obviously you can still feel things, physically, but there’s a nagging noise in your head.
An overwhelming urge for you to test your theory.
You hold the little cigarette between your pointer and thumb.
You knew Daryl had done this before, you remember the feeling when you noticed it and realised he had hurt himself on purpose. You hated that he’d done that. You knew he’d hate the fact that you’re about to do it,
But you do.
You press the lit cigarette onto the back of your hand, pushing it until it goes out, black ashes in a small circle covering a red spot, soon to blister.
You felt it, it hurt, it made your eyes sting a little which is close to crying so maybe you’re not entirely gone.
You’re not exactly sure what to think about what you’ve just done so you try not to.
But god, it’s stinging, it’s so hot even after you’ve already smudged the thing into the ground with your boot.
You gently brush the ash off the back of your hand when you hear the door behind you open.
You hear two foot steps, meaning the person had now stepped through the door way and is stood directly behind you, looking down on you.
It’s him, you know it’s him, no one else would be here.
Daryl leans forward and take your hand off the arm rest and looks at it.
You feel a spark of electricity when his skin touches yours.
“Why?” He asks out right, your heart missed his southern drawl.
He skirts round so he’s beside you and he crouched down to your level, trying to look in your eyes.
When he can’t get a glimpse of your pupils, he moves your chin with his pointer.
“Y/n…” he almost asks again, but he knows why, he’s been there.
“Cmon inside now”
He straightens up and waits for you to get up too, he takes the lighter off of you and leads you into the bedroom where he has you lay down on top of the covers and he lays behind you, pulling you close to his chest.
Hi voice is soft and low when he talks.
“Don’t do that anymore… I know why, baby but… ya can’t. Ya don’t gotta hurt yerself to see if ya still feel, it’s gon’ be alright”
He knows his words won’t fix everything straight away but he means every syllable.
He kisses the back of your head and that nauseating pit in your stomach feels a little less deep.
Idk about this guys… I hope it’s not too shitty
#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x reader#Daryl Dixon whump#sad
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Seeing criticism of Good Omens Season 2 on here is a wild ride for me because I generally seem to agree with everything gomens critical people are saying whilst at the same time still absolutely loving gomens S2.
It's like this: Okay so you have written this super popular book revolving around this precocious kid who happens to be the antichrist whose birth kickstarts the apocalypse. The four horseman turn up as well as these other strange human characters one of which is an actual witch whose great great great grandmother wrote an accurate prophecy book which predicts armaggedon. Through a series of somewhat hilarious events, the kid, his friends, and the other weird humans manage to stop the apocalypse.
Also throughout the whole thing there are these angel and demon characters fussing about getting into arguments but not actually doing anything to forward the plot or make any difference to the main storyline. For some reason everyone reading the book finds these characters far more compelling and entertaining and seems to think they are the main characters. But they are not.
Then the book gets adapted into a show and the focus shifts onto the angel and demon characters because obviously they are the popular ones that everyone loves. So what's a writer to do when the fan favourite characters basically don't have any part in the primary plot points? Give them a more coherent side plot steeped in romantic tropes and claim that they are in love. Boom. Instant fandom catnip.
But then you are presented with a problem. The show has become super successful and everyone wants more story. You may have discussed a sequel over the years with your writing partner but it never really came to anything probably because its difficult to plot out a sequel centred around two characters who weren't the protagonist of the first book, and that story is done and dusted. Whats a writer to do?
Lean into the fans thirst for more angel on demon action and write what amounts to high budget fanfiction pulling the love story b plot of season 1 into the main focus for season 2. Of course book purists are gonna hate that!
Any legitimate sequel to Good Omens should have centered around Adam. The former antichrist now coping with everything he went through growing up a normal human whilst still having a creeping sense that its not quite over, that maybe heaven and hell still have a part for you to play in their grand plan. Sure, Crowley and Aziraphale could have been involved, continuing their b plot love story, but at least this way the sequel would have been more consistent with the plot of season 1.
The problem with continuing Adam's story is that, and I mean no disrespect here, no one cares about Adam. Adam and his friends are the weakest elements of season 1. People tune into Good Omens for the Crowley and Aziraphale show, and Neil Gaiman knows this.
The plot of Gomens S2 is weak. The mystery around Gabriel is a bit silly, and is only connected to the season 1 plot in the loosest sense. The fact that he and Beelzebub speedrun an angel/demon romance is bizarre and does come out of left field... like something out of fanfiction. It also does indeed rob some of what made Crowley/Aziraphale so special - the fact that they were unique in their love and respect for each other despite being on opposite sides. Also I wish Maggie and Nina were given more development (and less clunky dialogue).
The only criticism I really don't agree with is the criticism that Aziraphale was written out of character, because quite simply, season 1 never ever resolved the fundamental issue at the center of Crowley and Aziraphales relationship. Throughout season 1 Aziraphale constantly insults and berates Crowley, claiming he's the "bad one" and refusing to accept that they aren't on opposite sides. There have been plenty of metas stating that this was all out of fear and a need to protect Crowley, and sure, you can interpret it that way, but not once in season 1 does Aziraphale actually say "yes we are on our side. Yes we are the same. I was wrong to claim you were bad when you've clearly been showing me how good you are for millennia." Its maybe implied that he has learned, but its never truly confirmed, because season 1 wasn't about Crowley and Aziraphale and their relationship. But season 2 takes its lead from that.
It's just rather amusing to me how the discourse that has built around season 2 seems to be fundamentally forgetting these points. GOS2 isn't really a sequel to Good Omens. It's a spin off. It's a spin off about Crowley and Aziraphale and their silly relationship drama whilst they deal with a silly low stakes mystery regarding Heaven and Hell (also characters that were barely involved in the book if at all!). It doesn't really tie into the first story at all.
In my opinion, all it needed to link it more closely to season 1, was to bring back Frances McDormand as God to do the narration. If that had happened, season 2 would have been just fine. As it stands, it comes across rather like a spin off fanfiction. But I love fanfiction, and I have always only ever watched Good Omens for Aziraphale and Crowley. To me, season 2 is fantastic, its like if Supernatural had a spin off show all about Castiel in which he is the lead character, and part of the main A plot is him getting together with Dean finally - Dean being the love interest in this particular show. Amazing. 10/10 would watch another 15 seasons of just that - but general Supernatural fans who aren't fandom specific would probably HATE IT.
So yeah, I do understand the criticism its receiving, but I find it funny, because ultimately Neil Gaiman gave fans exactly what they wanted, he gave them an Ineffable Husbands fanfiction - M/M Romance, F/F OC Side Pairing, Rated: Teen and Up, #Fluff, #Dancing, #Excessive Jane Austen References, #Crack Treated Seriously, #Surprise Final Pairing (check the end notes for spoilers!), #Miscommunication, #Love Confessions, #First Kiss, #Angst #Hurt/No Comfort, #Cliffhanger Ending.
Can any of us really say we wouldn't immediately click "proceed" on this fic and then stay up til 3am reading it til our eyes bled? Me neither.
#good omens#good omens season 2#good omens season 2 spoilers#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#crowley#aziracrow#good omens discourse#honest gos2 review
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Back From The Dead Epilogue
I know you guys waited a long time for this and I'm sorry it's so short. But the good news is, I've left it open for future installments and potentially requests. This won't be the last we see of Sweetheart and Matt, I promise 💖
So, without further ado, here's our temporary goodbye.
Word Count: 841
Pairing: Matt x Mom!Reader
“Matt! Is Michael almost ready?” You called from the kitchen. Matt had been tasked with getting your two year old son ready for his birthday party while you finished getting everything set up. A herculean task given that the toddler had much to say about his outfit choices nowadays.
“Incoming!” Was all you heard before the sound of little feet running across the hardwood floors reached your ears. You had just enough time to turn around before Michael was launching himself into your arms.
“Mama!”
“Hello, my love! Look at you!” You exclaimed. Michael was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that said “Two Rex” with a T-Rex below the writing. Michael grinned then made a face like he was growling.
“Rawr!”
“That's right, baby. The T-Rex says rawr!” You heard a chuckle coming from your room and smiled, looking up to see Matt walking into the room. He was dressed down for the day, jeans and a simple blue shirt. He walked over to the two of you and wrapped his arms around you both, kissing first your head then Michael's.
“Is he dressed to your satisfaction?” Matt teased.
“Yes, he is. How'd you convince him to wear this shirt. He was so against it this morning.”
“I may have promised him extra cake if he wore it.”
“Matthew!” His deep chuckle rumbled through you as he grinned.
“Come on, it's his birthday. Let him have the extra cake.”
“Alright, but when he's all hopped up on sugar and doesn't want to sleep tonight, that's on you.” You giggled. Your joking was interrupted by a knock on the front door and Michael immediately began wiggling to get down.
“Uncy Foggy! Aunty Karen! Grammy Maggie! They're here!” You laughed as Michael ran for the front door, little hands reaching for the door knob but not quite able to turn it. Matt followed him over and opened the door, letting everyone in with a cheerful greeting. You put the finishing touches on the cupcakes you'd made just as everyone came around the corner.
“Hey! Thanks so much for coming. We really appreciate it.”
Foggy, who was currently holding Michael, shook his head.
“Like we'd miss this little guy's birthday for anything!”
Everyone nodded their agreement and you and Matt smiled, glad for the little family the two of you had. It hadn't been easy, raising a baby, but the help you'd gotten from the three individuals in the room had been absolutely critical in the two of you making it through.
Shaking the thoughts from your head, you guided everyone back into the living room where you all began to play and spend time focusing on Michael. The day passed by in a whirlwind of fun and before you knew it, everyone was heading home and you were putting a worn out toddler to bed.
Heading to the kitchen, you quietly called out to Matt.
“I think I'm gonna have a glass of wine, do you want anything?” You were just reaching for the glass when arms wrapped around your middle and a warm body pressed against your back. Matt settled his head on yours and began to sway the two of you back and forth.
“I don't think that's a good idea.” Your brows furrowed and you lowered your hand.
“Why's that?” You could feel his face shift and you assumed he was grinning. His hands shifted so one was on your hip and the other rested on your lower belly.
“We're pregnant.” He breathed out. You froze, eyes going wide with shock. “You'll need to take a test to be sure but… I'd recognize that sound anywhere.”
“Oh my God, Matt…” You felt tears well up, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. Anyone else would assume you were panicking but Matt, knowing you so well and knowing your body, knew you were excited.
“Oops again?” He said, with a small laugh. It brought out your own laughter and soon the two of you were giggling like crazy. It took a few minutes for the two of you to calm down. You wiped your eyes.
“Oh, Matt. I'll get a test tomorrow and we'll check but I trust your ears. I can't believe it. How long have you known?”
“Just a couple of days. I wasn't sure at first but then we were laying together the other night and I had my head on your stomach. It was pretty obvious then.”
“Why'd you wait to say something?”
“I wanted to wait until after Michael's party. In case you reacted differently.” You hummed and nodded. That was fair. If you had reacted badly, it would have affected Michael's party and that wouldn't have been fair to the child.
You turned in Matt's arms and faced him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“A lot of things are gonna change. You and I are gonna be evenly matched. Are you ready for this?” You asked him.
“Sweetheart, with you by my side, I am ready for anything.”
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x mom!reader#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock x fem!reader#back from the dead
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Trust Me (M. Sturniolo)
chris version?, masterlist
contains: angst, verbal arguing, trust issues, accusations of cheating, make up sex, smut (soft!dom matt), a bit of fluff
a/n: yikes. i don't even know what to say. bone apple teeth.
“Are we really going to argue about this?”
I pause the motions of washing my face to glare at him through my phone. “Yes, Matt. We’re really going to argue about you hanging out with an ex-fling.”
He sighs and readjusts his hold on his phone. “We’re going in circles. I told you I’m not ‘hanging out’ with her. It’s a business collab.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” I mock childishly and Matt cocks his head. I know he’s confused at my sudden surge of pettiness and honestly so am I. I mean, we’ve barely argued at all in the last six months we’ve been together. But, something about this situation is stirring up old insecurities in me and I can’t help lashing out.
“If it’s really just work, why are you just now telling me about it?” I ask as I pick up the phone and walk back to my bedroom, plopping down on the bed.
“My bad, I didn’t know I was on a leash. I didn’t have to tell you about it at all. I called you out of respect when I found out she was coming.” He answers roughly. I’m about to respond when I hear his brothers calling his name.
“I’ll come over when we’re done and we can talk about it face-to-face, okay?�� Matt says, softening his tone.
I don’t even reply. I just scoff and end the call, throwing my phone off the bed. I see the screen light up with a message from him but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I head into my living room to spend the day watching the only man who’s never let me down: Stiles Stilinski.
*************************
I must have fallen asleep somewhere around season three because I wake up to Void Stiles and someone banging on my door. Walking over and staring through the peephole, I’m unsurprised to see Matt standing there looking pissed.
I open the door slightly, peeking my head through the hole. “Wrong house.” But he just rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.
“So we hang up in each other’s faces now, right?” He says as he pushes the door open wider and steps inside my apartment.
Sighing, I close the door and lock it, turning to lean against it with my arms crossed. “Oh, you remembered I exist? Only,” I mime checking the time. “three hours later. How was she? Was it good?”
Matt tilts his head and stares at me for a second, his eyes hardening, before he chuckles darkly and shakes his head. “You have me so fucked up today. Accuse me of cheating one more time.”
“If you want to be single, do that. In love or not, you’re just a man. You’re not the only dick-”
Matt cuts in, his face deadly serious again. “Y/N, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Stop playing with me.”
His expression tells me I’m going too far, but the anger burning inside of my chest won’t let me back down.
I walk closer to him, stepping into his space “I’ve been there, done that with all the bullshit, Matt.”
“And I’m not them.” He snaps, ducking his face inches from mine. “I’m not stupid and I haven’t done anything to make you not trust me.”
Despite my best efforts, my eyes start to water and I look away. He’s right. I can’t punish him for someone else’s mistakes. I walk away and let myself fall backward onto my couch. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my arm flung across my eyes.
Matt comes over, pulling off the back pillows so he can crawl on top of me. He moves my arm from my face and adjusts me so I’m looking at him. “I’m not going to cheat on you.”
“I know,” I admit, blinking back my tears at how stupid I feel.
Matt wipes the corners of my eyes and turns my face with his fingertips so he can kiss my jawline. “You’re the only one I want.”
“Even though I have trust issues?” I ask breathlessly as he moves his lips down my neck, the proof of his want hardening against my thigh.
He shrugs, sliding his hands under my shirt and gripping my sides. “I’ll fix them.”
I nudge him so he’ll look at me and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me. Tangling my hands in his hair, I press tiny chaste kisses to his lips. He lets me have my way for a few minutes but gets frustrated and takes control, kissing me harder and sweeping his tongue into my mouth.
I grind my hips up against his, needing friction, and he groans. Removing an arm from his neck, I reach down and unbuckle his belt, reaching into his boxers. Matt moans my name against my neck and begins thrusting into my hand slowly. He sits up slightly, pushes my sleeping shorts to the side, and plunges in his middle finger.
I gasp when his cold ring brushes my clit and lean my head on his shoulder.
He adds another finger, using his other hand to hold my legs open when I try to squeeze them closed. He reaches down and stops my hand movements, clearly getting too close, before leaning back down to place kisses on my face.
Matt adds pressure to my clit, laughing when I push against his shoulders. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, pretty girl.”
I moan out his name as an answer and he picks up the pace, curling his fingers to brush my g spot. He keeps up his pace even when I tell him I’m coming, his thumb rubbing circles as I ride out my orgasm. When I come down, he pulls out his fingers and wipes them carelessly on his jeans as he stands up.
“Get on your knees.” He tells me as he kicks off his pants and boxers. I slide off the couch, following his instructions, and face him, assuming he wants head. But when I reach for him, he shakes his head. “Bend over the coffee table.”
I raise my eyebrow slightly but do as he says, bracing my hands on the frame.
Matt kneels behind me and nudges my knees farther apart. He swipes my hair to one side so he can kiss my neck as he lines himself up, grunting quietly as he enters me.
He gives me a second to adjust when he bottoms out, beginning to thrust when I start to squirm. He pulls back as far as he can and slams back into me, pushing me into the table. I gasp, looking back, but he only smirks, leaning down to lightly nip at my shoulder. He continues his rough strokes, his hand digging into my hip.
Fighting for control, I meet his thrusts, pushing my hips back into him, until he braces a hand on my back and pushes me down.
I give up and I press my face into the cool glass, moaning loudly, as he hammers into me. Matt moves his other hand up to the back of my head, lacing his fingers through and tugging gently. “My girl.” He breathes out, the soft tone of his voice contrasting his rough thrusts.
“Please, Matt,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel my body tightening up.
“Come all over me, baby.” He says, pulling me up and pressing my back into his chest while he thrusts up. My body melts against his, and I unravel around him. I shudder when he continues thrusting, his hand coming up to circle my oversensitive clit.
It’s too much but when I try to wiggle away, he pulls out and stands, yanking me up with him. He leads me back to the sofa and bends me over the arm of it before sliding inside of me again.
He grips both of my hips, using them as leverage as he pounds himself into me. I can’t believe how much he’s stretching me, the tip of his dick kissing my cervix as he thrusts.
He brings his hand up and covers my mouth, shushing me, which must mean I’m being too loud. But I can’t think of anything besides the way he feels inside of me.
I can tell when he gets close because his thrusts become sloppier and he starts moaning out my name. He pushes inside of me as deep as he can and comes, dropping his head onto my back.
We both try to catch our breath for a second before he pulls out of me slowly and points me toward the bathroom. “You can go first.”
When we both have cleaned up, he comes back over to where I’m sitting on the couch and squats down. His eyes are kind and sweet as he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. “Shower?”
He lets me get in first and I flinch at the cold ass water he’s set it to, turning up the heat. Matt hisses as he follows me in, leaning past me to turn it down. “Are you trying to boil us alive? That shit is proof that you’re a demon.”
I laugh at his dramatics as he grabs my soap and lathers up the loofah. He scrubs my arms gently before spinning me so he can get my back.
When he's done, he pulls me into his chest and I lean my head back, the feeling of his skin against mine like ecstasy.
“Do you know how much I love you?” He says, his voice grating across my ear before he places a kiss behind it.
I turn and smile at him, adoration flooding my body. “I think I’m starting to.”
#maggie b writes#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#maggie b talks too much#sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo#matt sturniolo angst#sturniolo fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo oneshots#matt sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo headcanon#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo angst#sturniolo fandom
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Drugged Part 2- TeenSister!Casey/ BigBrother! Casey
Authors note: thank you all for the support! It’s been rough trying to write with everything going on. I immediately wrote a part 2 while it was fresh. I hope y’all enjoy!
Summary: Once you arrive at Med, Will and Natalie make sure you are taken care of.
Warnings: mentions of fainting, medical talk that I’m not even sure I got completely right
~~~~~~~~
Upon arrival at med, the guys lifted you on the backboard to a stretcher that Will and Maggie brought out. They quickly slid you off and back into the recovery position as they wheeled you through the hospital doors.
“GCS 7, pulse is 70, O2 is hanging in the lower 90s, and pressure is 97/69. This is all after a round of epi, Zofran and supplemental oxygen.” Violet rattled off as she helped Maggie and Brett wheel you into Trauma 2 as Will looked you over.
“Mags, get me a full panel, tox screen, more fluids and a few warming blankets. She feels cold.” Will rattled off, placing a hand on your cheek. “Y/n, it’s Will Halstead. You know where you are?” Will asked, taking the sheet and helping them transfer you over to the bed.
“Matty? Where’s Matt?” You asked, unfocused eyes trying to look around all the people in the room.
“He’s right outside squirt. He’s filing some paperwork with Doris. I’m here though.” Kelly soothed, pushing your flyaways back again. ”Can you answer Will?” Kelly asked when you finally made eye contact with him.
“Firehouse?” You questioned, looking around. “No. No, I’m at Med. I think.” You said, looking to Will and then back to Kelly for confirmation.
“Very good sweetheart. That’s right. You are at Med.” Will praised, leaning away so that April could take your temp.
“97.1. “ April said, looking to Kelly.
“That’s close to normal for her. Might just be running a bit cooler from the squad being cold.” Kelly said, turning to help Nat place two warm blankets on you.
“How did this happen?” Natalie asked, coming around Kelly to examine you once Will took the Ipad from her.
“We don’t know. I already called Jay. I think it has something to do with the coffee she was drinking when she came in. He’s looking into it.” Kelly replied, stepping back and out of the way so that Natalie had more room to tend to you.
“Okay. Well, I’m gonna give her a breathing treatment since this seems to be bothering her asthma. Run one bag of warm fluids and then run a regular bag of saline. We need to try to flush some of this out of her system.” Natalie told Maggie and April. “Also, place a catheter. I don’t trust her balance or mental state with the drugs in her system.” Nat added, walking to the end of the bed so Kelly could step forward.
“Can you stay while they do that? Just incase she freaks out?” Kelly asked Stella, who was standing in the doorway.
“Of course.” Stella nodded, stepping into the room and next to Kelly. “Hey kiddo. You know who I am?” Stella asked, getting in your line of sight.
“Auntie Stella?” You questioned, looking at Kelly for confirmation.
“That’s right squirt. She’s gonna stay here while they take care of some girl stuff, okay?” Kelly said, making sure you were actually alright with this.
You nodded and reached your hand out for Stella, who immediately grabbed yours in return. “Okay. Then can I see Matt?” You asked, looking at April as she drew some blood.
“Yes sweetheart. He should be about done by now. We will send him in when we have you settled. Okay?” April said, smiling sweetly at you.
You nodded and leaned into Kelly as he kissed your temple. “I’ll be right outside princess.”
As Kelly started to walk out of the room, your eyes became more unfocused and your vision became dark around the edges. “Uh guys?!” Stella exclaimed, taking your hand and using the other to hold your head.
“Step back Stella.” Natalie said, running back into the room. She tried to rouse you, but you wouldn’t fully come around. “Tip the bed up. Elevate her feet and lower her head.” Natalie instructed April. “Y/n? Can you hear me?” Natalie asked, trying to simulate you by doing a sternum rub. Almost immediately after they tipped you, you began to come back around, trying to swat Nat away. “Just relax. It’s alright. You lost consciousness for a few seconds.”
“I don’t feel good.” You mumbled, covering your face with your hands.
“What doesn’t feel good?” Will asked, coming up to your other side with Kelly at his shoulder.
“My head and stomach.” You answered. “Uncle Kelly. Make it stop.” You sobbed, reaching for your godfather.
“Shhhh princess. It’s alright. It’s gonna be okay.” Kelly soothed, moving around Will to stand at the end of your bed and take your hands. “You gotta breathe.” Kelly reminded you, kneeling to be in your line of sight a bit better since you were leaned back pretty far.
“Let’s just keep her like this until the breathing treatment. We can put up a drape to insert her catheter so that you can stay Kelly. I’m gonna grab Matt and fill him in. I’m gonna let her rest while we wait.” Natalie said, running a hand through your hair. “Just rest sweetie. We have you.” Natalie soothed, wiping your tears before leaving the room.
“Just relax squirt. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Kelly promised, taking the seat that April offered and then taking your hand, kissing the back of your hand.
——————
You woke with a gasp, flinging your arm out to protect yourself from an unknown threat.
“Hey hey hey. Shhhh it’s alright.” Matt said, standing up on one side of your bed.
“Hey squirt. Remember to breathe.” Kelly said, grabbing your hands and bring them to your chest.
“Matty? Uncle Kel?” You asked, relaxing back into the hospital bed.
“Yeah sweetheart. It’s us. You are going to be just fine.” Matt said, rubbing a hand through your hair.
“How long?” You asked, rubbing your eyes as soon as Kelly let go of you.
“About a day. I gave them permission to do breathing treatments and insert a catheter. You weren’t really coming around anymore. You are going to be just fine though.” Matt explained, sitting back down in his chair.
“Jay caught the guy. He’s a serial offender who jumps from state to state. He picked the wrong girl to mess with this time.” Kelly said, also sitting back down. “Hank and Jay took care of him. He will never hurt anyone ever again.” Kelly said, leaning back and looking smug.
You nodded your head. “Sooo. When can I break out of here?” You asked, making the two older men laugh.
“Soon enough. I promise kiddo.” Matt said, taking your hand again.
“Until then, there is a firehouse full of people waiting for you out in the waiting room. You up for some visitors?” Kelly asked, standing back up and smoothing your hair back.
“For them? Always.” You said, smiling at your godfather.
#one chicago#jay halstead#matt casey#one chicago x reader#kelly severide#fluff#matt casey x reader#comfort#kelly severide x reader#matthew casey#detective jay halstead
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What If: Jordan got rejected?
hello, i'm here once more, late at night with another story, yay :) i hope you guys enjoy, i'm using this to get a grip with my writing so feedbacks are welcome. also i'm open to requests & asks!
word count: 2.422
It all started with Forensics.
The one class, other than Brink’s, that every single student in Crimefighting major wanted to attend.
Ministered by professor Clancy, it was focused on preparing students for a career in – as the major’s name itself already implied - crime fighting by means that when beyond just the use of brute force.
The studies spanned the fields of hero anthropology, superheroes bio-chemistry; biology of super abled bodies, chemistry of brains and bodies under the influence of Compound V, physics and psychology specialized in superheroes and sociology of a society with super powered people. It was a quite extensive coursework, it required perfect grades, above 75% class attendance percentage independent of the major (but let’s be real no one in fucking Performing Arts were trying to get into Forensics), GPA of 3.7 or above – professor Clancy was ridiculously strict about who’s taking her class –, and a previous knowledge of the basics of lifesaving techniques (which, curiously, wasn’t include in God U’s curriculum).
Anyone who managed to get a chair during this class was considered to be blessed. Those who were accepted in the course had with certainty guaranteed, at the very least, a B-rank city contract. Also, the sponsors really enjoyed pumping up the academics, it made them look good – no one wanted to be at the mercy of a hero that didn’t knew how to do fucking CPR.
And Jordan has been killing themselves for one of the very, very few vacant chairs.
Technically Clancy’s class was already at full by the standards of elective programs of God U, having filled all the 10 slots in three days – but, it seems that, professor Clancy had a new TA, who Jordan had heard off more than seen, who’ve convinced the woman to open more two positions.
And so a bunch of sophomores, juniors and seniors (and some stupid freshmen who really thought they could stand a chance) started to go fucking berserk on each other. From sabotaging each other’s applications forms to actually starting brawls in the middle of the halls, and even getting some people badly hurt just to show-off how well they could perform lifesaving.
It was fucking chaos, because of course it was.
Jordan wasn’t partaking in any of the violence and dirty mess, nah! Their act was all about subtly. They kept tabs on anyone who had already taken, or tried to take, Forensics with Clancy; making small talk, flirting, even fucking some hot piece of ass (this part wasn’t all that difficult), just so they’d know when the Intro to Forensics would be open – and they all said the same thing,
“Well, Clancy usually opens the application forms on the second week of the month, but her new TA’s the one making the calls now, so I don’t know…Anyway, can I get your number?”
And, fuck, that made everything ten times harder because Jordan had no damn clue who was Clancy’s TA. They heard her name, Maggie (or Molly, or Mary) something-something, or anything like that – they were pretty sure it had an ‘M’ in it, maybe two. But they didn’t catch her face anywhere so it was practically impossible to know, they looked for anyone with a similar name so they could sweet talk into giving him one of the two spots; but, it appears that, Clancy’s new TA was fucking Amish or some shit.
As far as they could guess at this point, this TA didn’t have a goddamn phone, or just couldn’t be social for shit.
Maybe their account was priv. But that would be simply really dumb considering one of the main points of God U’s was gaining social traction and nothing was better than Instagram and Tik Tok for that.
The running around was starting to piss them off. And it got worse when they found out, at their stop by Vought-a-Burger before their next class, that Luke had manage to get one of the vacant spots. His friend at least had the sense of looking sheepish when he broke the news – Brink had get him the spot, as a highly scouted hero and future prospect to the Seven, it was of high importance that Luke took all the classes that could help him get a better leverage until his departure to The Tower (also, it looked good on social media and in the interviews they get him to do).
So now there was only one spot.
Jordan was happy for their friend, they really were. But holy fuck! How unfair was that? And it seemed to be usual to this point. Since Brink had taken Jordan under his wing, making them his TA in their freshman year, helping them with sponsorships and brand deals and marketability, being more of a father figure to Jordan than their own dad, seeing the value in their powers, in their capability to learn, to thrive, to be the best of the best – however, since professor Brink had showed that he believed, truly believed, in Jordan one thing was always pretty clear, cut-and-dry: Jordan was the apple to Brink’s eyes…After Luke.
If Jordan was a shining star, Luke was the motherfucking sun. Untouchable, unreachable. Jordan would always the God U’s top 3, but they would also always be number 2.
And that fucking hurt. Why Brink didn’t help them? Why, didn’t Brink talked to Clancy’s about Jordan as well? If he valued them so much, why Luke always came first, why couldn’t the game be even?
Jordan manage to smile, nonetheless, and throw out a petty joke about how Luke was only there so people think he actually new CPR and he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in public – they laughed and that was it.
For the rest of the week Jordan worked hard. They didn’t took breaks, studied their ass off, was the first to came into Brink’s office and the last to leave, didn’t missed any class, and nailed all the exams, home-works, group projects, and essays.
Jordan was perfect and seemed like it would all pay-off when, in a morning they were just passing Brink’s schedule of the day, the man looked at him up and down.
“So, Jordan,” he said, resting back in his chair. “Luke told me you’re interest in taking Forensics as an elective program.”
“Oh, yes professor,” they nodded trying not too look so hopeful, or disappointed.
“There has been a lot of competition this semester,” he continued. “Clancy did good putting that girl there, she knows how the keep people on their toes.”
That girl. Clancy’s TA. Maggie (or Macy?).
“Here’s a tip,” Brink inclined himself forward and Jordan, without realizing, did the same. “Clancy might’ve mentioned the intention of opening the forms next Friday; you should keep an eye out.”
Jordan smiled. So large and so bright the dimple in their face was threatening to just burst. “Thank you, professor. I’ll keep a watch.”
And so they did. Never before so excite about a Friday in their life, taking in a brutal amount of workload to keep their mind from worrying ahead of time, but it was almost impossible now that they had a clear shot of where to go.
And when Friday came Jordan was up, bright and early, with heavy bags under their eyes and a thick vein jutting out in their forehead as they turn their computer on, and logged in the God U student portal.
And there it was, in bold blue letters on his screen.
Intro to Forensics – Form Application [pending]
It was a typical class form with question about the Crimefighting major and previous knowledge in the aspects of Hero Ethics and Combat 101. Jordan finished in less than minutes before sending it.
Intro to Forensics – Form Application [finished]
Now they just had to wait.
----
And wait they did. Trying not to let anxiety take over their body, this was one of the moments Jordan was thankful for Andre existing – and for him to be a huge nepo-baby with tons of cash.
The weekend passed like a blur, there was a kickback at some point in someone’s dorm – maybe Andre’s? Jordan didn’t actually remember. But the important thing was that there were enough drinking, popping pills, and snorting coke for Jordan to finally set their mind into something that wasn’t work. They ignored calls from their parents, let Brink emails pile themselves up in their inbox and just enjoyed the girl gurgling down their cock.
When Monday came they felt trashed.
There was a horrible taste in their mouth, hair was a mess, the clothes on their body weren’t theirs, someone vomited on their shoes (the fucking white Vans, fucking hell!) and headache, because obviously. They felt groggy and thirsty and when walking by the mess that was the residence hallway, they slipped in someone’s naked body and almost fell face first in some guy’s dick.
They checked the clock in their phone, 6:23 AM. They had time to go to their dorm and take a shower before going to Brink. There was barely anyone on campus yet, most students were sleeping or too deep down in an alcoholic coma, or and overdose, who could tell.
They only had half the mind to check the student portal for schedule update and…
“What the fuck?”
---
They entered the Crimefighting building with more than just intention, Jordan was pissed off.
The headache was still there, hammering inside their head like a bitch and they’re hungry as hell, there was still that horrible taste in their mouths and going to the Forensics course floor was a detour that would probably eat their time to take a shower and fix their hair – but fuck that in the moment.
They took the stairs two at a time, ignoring every one until they reached the entrance of professor Clancy’s office. It wasn’t much different them Brink’s office foyer. If anything it looked a lot more clinical, with the light-colored walls and flooring, the painting in the walls were of weird-ass abstract art, and behind a desk very similar to their own, was who he assumed to be Clancy’s TA.
And holy fuck! She was hot. Like striking beautiful, the type that made them glance once and then double take to be sure what they’re seeing was actually real, and it was, gladly. Brown skin that looked very soft, well-set curves and a face was just stunning, with pretty features, big brown-doe eyes and plump lips that made them think how good they would feel. The type of girl that could drive them insane with just the right bat of her long eyelashes.
She didn’t look at them at first, too focused on whatever she was typing, so they measured her. She wasn’t that tall, but taller than their female form, she had some necklaces dangling by her lean throat (fuck, what could they do to that throat) and wore a dark-red tank top that showed up her arms and hugged the contour of her tits in a sinful way.
With their knuckles Jordan knocked her table; she glanced at him, her face completely unimpressed. She annoyingly pulled her earphones off and ran her eyes up and down Jordan’s figure, her glance stopping by the base of their neck before finding their face.
“Can I help...?”
“You’re Clancy’s TA, Maggie, right?”
“My name’s Marie.” Fuck. “If you want to talk with Professor Clancy you must make an appointment at the student attention office by sending an email. They're open from 10 a.m until 05 p.m. And 12:30 a.m until 03:00 p.m on weekends.” She said, quick and uninterested, going back to whatever she was doing before they showed up.
“Yeah, that’s not why I’m here,” she still wasn’t looking at the, scribbling something on the notebook by her side – even her writing was pretty. “There’s been a mistake, with my schedule.”
“Oh, really?”
Jordan raised their eyebrows. Sarcasm? Seriously?
“Yes,” they hissed. “I signed up for Clancy’s Intro to Forensics, but is nowhere on my schedule.”
Marie (their not going to forget that name) signed and looked at him, eyes so open and yet Jordan couldn’t take a guess for dear life about what could be going through her head.
“What’s you name?” Her voice was so stale, as if she was reading a script.
Jordan frowned. “Jordan Li…” she types swiftly on the keyboard, her hands are way to fucking pretty too like, damn. “I’m, like, rank number two.”
“Good for you, I guess,” Well, okay, fuck. It would be better if she just told them to fuck off already. “It seemed that you were rejected…” she meets their eyes. “Jordan Li, rank number two.”
“Sorry, what?” Jordan chuckled. “What do you mean? I sent the form as soon they’re open.”
Marie just wasn’t even pretending to pay attention, setting herself aloof. “We’re crowded. Professor Clancy’s class is much requested and the last two vacant spots have already been taken, so…Sorry.”
“Wait,” Jordan chimed, they didn’t want to lose their shit right now, and they already felt like shit. “This can’t be.”
Marie shrugged. “Better luck next time, I guess.”
“Who took the last chair?”
“I won’t tell you that,” Marie huffed. “Look, I’ve been receiving shitty emails of entitled top 10 all weekend, so let me make this easy for both of us – most of you top 20s, 10s and 5s, think all you’ve gotta do is show up, major in Crimefighting, crush at Forensics and Combat 101, and score a city contract, that easy; but life is way harder than that.” Marie inhales deeply, inclining herself forward to read something on the computer screen. “All the spots of Forensics had been taken by people with cleared techniques in lifesaving, along with crime fighting. And you...You didn’t even sign up the Safe-on-Campus petition.”
Jordan breathed, deeply. Fuck that she was pretty and hot as fuck; they never felt so much anger towards someone before. Who did she think she was?
“Now, I’m kind of busy, so if you can…”
“I want to talk to Professor Clancy about this.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I made the call, I’m her TA.”
“Oh, so it was your decision?” Marie inhales heavily once again. “Who the fuck do you think you are to reject me?”
Their glances were set on each other so thoroughly Jordan could almost fell the weight, when she moved to stand up they responded by shifting into male, watching with annoyed satisfaction as she had to raise her eyes to keep their staring battle. Marie didn't faltered, though.
“I’m her TA.”
#lgbt#gen v#marie moreau#fanfic#fic#jordan li x marie moreau#jordan x marie#mariejordan#gen v marie#gen v jordan#limoreau#derek luh#jaz sinclair#london thor#hecksilver#imagine
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You, Me, & Him Part 3
Apologies for taking so long to post another part. Between lots of story ideas and lots of traveling, things have been crazy for me. However thanks to continued interest in this, I was able to write more. I hope it is worth the wait.
Previous parts can be found here
With the gate and fences between them and the undead, Y/N could focus away from the threat and on the people now in front of her and Daryl. One was a tall, large dark man wearing a beanie and the other a short-haired brunette woman a little taller and a few years younger than herself, both wearing welcoming smiles.
“I see your hunting trip was a success, you brought home not only dinner but a new friend.” The brunette said as she nodded to first the turkey that Daryl was holding then Y/N, holding out her hand. “I’m Maggie, this is Tyrese. You look like you’ve been out there awhile.”
Though cautious, Y/N reached out to take the offered hand when her son made his presence known to the new people. He shoved the wrap away from his face and squealed happily at what he saw. She watched as Maggie’s eyes doubled in size at the sight before her smile grew bigger as it focused on the baby. “Hello to you too, cutie.”
“This is Y/N, and her boy Christopher,” Daryl stated in introduction.
“Daryl was nice enough to offer a safe place for the two of us,” Y/N added as she finally took Maggie’s extended hand.
“I’m glad he did. It’s not safe out there alone, let alone with a baby.” Maggie replied, before looking up further up the fence line in the direction Y/N guessed others were. “We have quite a few kids here, but Judith is the only little one we have close to Christopher’s size. I think Beth just put her down for a nap.”
“Daryl mentioned that there was another baby,” Y/N stated as she relaxed a little, hearing that the baby had been put down for a nap sounded so mundane, but also showed how secure the group felt where they were.
“Found a clinic up north a bit that ain’t been hit yet, Y/N had the same idea to get supplies. Brought them here and to get a car, some others, and make a run to clear it out.” Daryl explained as he led them away from the gate and up towards a second gate deeper into the yard. “Got a few things for little Ass Kicker though.”
“Rick will be relieved to hear it, Daddy too I’m sure so to stock the infirmary.” Maggie declared. “I’m sure Glen will want to organize a run to go back tomorrow at first light, I’ll let him know you’re back if I see him first.”
Y/N listened to the three of them talk about where the clinic was located and went back as she looked at their surroundings. The group had just started clearing an area to make several gardens in the grass between the front gate and the next one.
When they reached the yard, Maggie and Tyrese left them to return to their post and Y/N saw more people. Children were playing at the far end, while adults were sitting around some tables set up for eating that surrounded an outdoor kitchen. They had quite the setup, and a lot safer than the previous one Y/N had been in.
Daryl handed over the turkey to an older woman with gray hair, who took it happily. He then leaned over, talking to her quietly, and Y/N watched as the woman’s eyes focused on her, then Christopher before her lips curled up in a welcoming smile. “Daryl said your name is Y/N?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Carol.” The woman replied, though she didn’t move to offer her hand like Maggie had. It didn’t make her feel any less welcomed, but it made Y/N curious as Carol continued. “Knowing Daryl, you all didn’t stop or anything on your trip here. Would you like something to eat?”
Fighting the impulse to reject the offer, Y/N nodded her head. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I can wait.”
“Nonsense, dinner is mostly done, just fix you up a plate before the others get to it. What about the baby?” Carol asked, her eyes dropping to where Christopher was wrapped up.
“No, thank you. I have some food for him in my bag.” Y/N answered. She had given him a small bottle on the trek to the prison but knew he would want something more soon. He had quite the appetite.
“Daryl, last time I saw him, Herschel was just inside. Why don’t you take Y/N and Christopher in and let him look them over? He’s our doctor. I’ll bring her in some food and then we can figure out a place for them to get some rest.”
Daryl mumbled what sounded like a yes before bumping his shoulder against hers. She turned her attention to him and motioned with his head to follow him. She continued to study the area as he led her into the building marked, ‘Cell Block C’. Once inside, Y/N could see that they entered a large room with a few tables scattered around, all of them empty save one where an older bearded gentleman sat, a black book in his hands. The man looked up at their entrance and nodded in greeting at them, a kind smile on his face. “Hello there.”
“Found them aways from here, they’ve been on their own for a bit,” Daryl explained. “Carol said to have you look them over.”
“Of course.” Hershel agreed, “If the young lady is okay with that of course.”
Y/N only hesitated for a minute before nodding her head in agreement. A doctor hadn’t looked Christopher over since the weeks following his birth and while Y/N thought he was healthy, having him checked over wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, that examination would happen with her holding him, she wasn’t about to leave her son with strangers. No matter if she had trusted Daryl enough to come with him.
While Hershel went to grab his bag, Y/N settled at the table he vacated, unwrapping Christopher. Daryl helped her shoulder off her pack, which she was grateful for as her son got a big case of the wiggles. “Thank you.”
“Hmm, I’ll just leave you two with the doc,” Daryl replied as he up the strap of his crossbow further up his shoulder and started backing away though he felt himself hesitating just a bit as he did. However, before he could slip away her head snapped in his direction.
“Can you stay?” Y/N asked, “Please?”
Her gaze locked on Daryl’s, and he could see that she did want him to stay. He got that she might not be comfortable being left with someone she didn’t know but wasn’t he also a stranger? Yet despite this, he knew he wasn’t about to refuse her request. He nodded his answer as he gripped the strap of his crossbow across his chest nervously. When the baby caught sight of Daryl, he moved to crawl across the table towards him but was quickly distracted by the sound of Hershel returning.
“Well young man, what is your name?” Hershel asked warmly as the little boy stared at him wide-eyed from his spot on her lap.
“Christopher,” Y/N replied. “And I’m Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Hershel replied. “How old is he?”
“Around a year? He was born a few weeks before the outbreak began.”
“That was lucky for the two of you. Was it a natural birth?”
“Yes, there were no issues, and they discharged us with a clean bill of health,” Y/N answered. Hershel asked a few other questions as he continued to look over Christopher, who found the whole thing very entertaining.
“Well, he seems to be perfectly healthy. His weight seems to be good even, I assume you have been nursing him?”
“I was until a couple of weeks ago,” Y/N answered before lowering her eyes. “I don’t know why but it seemed like he wasn’t getting enough when I fed him. After a few days, I was completely dried up.”
“It happens even in the healthiest of times, but considering the lack of resources available now, it’s a wonder you were able to keep it up,” Hershel explained, as he looked her over and recognized the signs of malnourishment in her.
“I’ve been feeding him formula or powdered milk and some baby food when I can find it, that’s how we ended up where we met Daryl,” Y/N stated as she looked over at the archer.
“Well, unless you have any injuries I haven’t noticed, the two of you are healthy though I would like you to get some rest and regular meals. Both you can get here.” Hershel added.
“Carol’s makin’ her some food,” Daryl mentioned. “And then we’ll find them a bunk.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the three of them heard the door open to the outside and the person he had just mentioned appeared with a heaping plate and a bottle of water in her hands.”Here we go.”
Carol quickly set the food down in front of Y/N, and Y/N swore her mouth started to water at the smell. It was a mixture of some kind of meat, vegetables, and rice. “Thank you.”
While spying the plate of food, Christopher reached for the shiny spoon, and Y/N let him play with it for a moment. She watched as Carol smiled before saying, “I can take him while you eat.”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, what with making and getting the food.” Y/N stated before placing Christopher down on the floor by her feet so that he was close while she began to devour the food. It tasted even better than it smelled.
Carol watched the younger woman practically inhale the food while keeping an eye on both her child and the others in the room. It wasn’t hard to see how protective she was of Christopher. Noticing the bow that rested next to them, Carol nodded towards it. “That weapon yours?”
Y/N nodded as she swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Yeah, it’s mine.”
“You must be pretty good,” Hershel commented.
Y/N nodded. “I learned when I was young at summer camp, and did well enough with it over the years that they brought me back when I was older to teach kids. Hadn’t touched it in years, but it didn’t take long to shake off the rust when the dead started walking around. Which is good since it’s quieter than a gun, and doesn’t disturb Christopher or draw the dead. Finding arrows isn’t easy but the ones I have work. I learned how to shoot and take care of my bow but not how to make arrows, unfortunately.”
“I can show ya,” Daryl spoke up from his spot. When both women’s and Hershel’s eyes turned to him, he went on. “We have some arrows that we’ve found on runs, but I can show you how to make more. Use the feathers of that turkey we brought in even.”
Y/N smiled up at him at the offer. “Thank you. I would like that.”
‘Interesting.’ Carol thought as she couldn’t help but notice the look her best friend and the newcomer shared. Though she didn’t want to interrupt, she spoke up. “I’m sure Daryl would appreciate having another hunter out with them, but there is no rush.”
“You and Christopher need to get some rest and settle in. Get your strength up and get used to being around people again.” Hershel added.
“Thank you,” Y/N said again. “And I want to do what I can to help out around here. But I’d prefer not to go outside of the fences if I can, keep Christopher safe behind them.”
Carol didn’t mention that they had people there who could watch Christopher for her, she knew it wouldn’t be met with agreement. Y/N needed to settle in and trust them before she would consider that. “Now that you’ve got some food in you, how about we show you where you’ll be sleeping?”
Y/N nodded, relieved at the thought of getting some rest. They said goodbye to Hershel before Y/N followed Carol and Daryl out of the common area and into the connected cell block. Y/N took in her surroundings as she listened to Carol. “We have people in two cell blocks C and D. We brought in a large group from a fallen community several weeks back and they filled up D but we still have a room here in C.”
The cell block was clean and relatively quiet. Y/N heard quiet singing coming from a cell, it sounded like a lullaby but they were led up the stairs. Y/N passed a couple of doors before Carol stopped and motioned to an open one. “Here you go. It’s empty now but we have a few things that will make it more comfortable, blankets and stuff.”
Y/N walked inside and looked around. It was empty, just two bunks and a small table but it was clean. And safe. That was the most important part. “We can make it work.”
“I’ll grab you a few things for the bed,” Carol stated. “My cell is a few doors down.”
After Carol left to gather the bedding, Y/N saw Daryl hovering around the door, his fingers fiddling with the strap across his chest. When he noticed she was looking at him, he lowered his eyes. “I’ma goin’ go.”
As he turned to leave Y/N’s voice stopped him. “Daryl? Thank you. For bringing us here, I just…thank you.”
Daryl nodded in acknowledgment, “Ma cell’s the other side of Carol’s. If ya need anything.”
Y/N watched him disappear from the doorway before looking down at her son. “Well sweetheart, what do you think?”
Christopher looked at his mother and smiled a big toothy grin, causing her to laugh. “Glad you seem to like it. Let’s hope it works out.”
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#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon#twd#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x you
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Could you share your thoughts about beats in writing, please?
OKAY HERE WE GOOOOO this is going to be long but honestly it could have been so much longer so oops!
tl;dr: Beats are when things in the story happen.
So in a mystery novel, for example, when does the crime occur? when do they think they've solved it, but they're wrong? when do they realize they were wrong? when is their life in danger? when do they know who did it? when does the reader know who did it? when is the b-plot introduced and when it is resolved?
These typically happen in a similar place in each mystery novel, because of course it wouldn't make sense if it went: (1) you think you know who did it, and then (2) the crime is committed. Right? or if the very first person they suspected did it and they catch them immediately! that's never what happens because then what's the other 200 pages of the book?
so there is relative order, and you know it even as a passive reader, so then the question is how spaced out are those things throughout the fic or manuscript?
in a romance, it's the same. typically we see:
meet cute/first meeting/first canon meeting (the pilot)
e.g. alex meets maggie at the airport and they fight over jurisdiction, or jane and maura work a case together as usual but it's the first one where jane is scared, aka a new start to their existing relationship
why aren't they together off the bat? (aka why is this a romance novel and not a romance sentence?)
e.g. alex thinks she's straight and they're good friends, or maura dates elon musk types and jane is, you know, not that
complication
e.g. alex comes out and then asks maggie to be her gf but maggie says no because alex is fresh off the boat, or maura starts dating jane's dumbass brother
false high (if there is a third act breakup, this is the happy time before that)
e.g. alex and maggie get together and are very happy kissing the girls they want to kiss, or maura dumps tommy because her life with jane is more important to her
low point (this is often the 3rd act breakup, but doesn't have to be)
e.g. alex freaks out when family conflicts with romance and dumps maggie, or jane kills maura's dad
KISS KISS KISS (aka the happily ever after)
e.g. alex apologizes and sanvers stays together forever because the show was cancelled, or jane performs surgery on maura in the woods and then they kiss forever because the show was cancelled
SO, all of those things have to happen, and beats are when. you can of course put your plot points whenever you want them. it's your life and your art and your hobby!! have fun! but if you want to learn "craft" or whatever, or get traditionally published, you need to know when the conventional beats for your genre are, so that you can show you know what you're doing.
You've noticed beats even if you haven't thought about them. Sometimes a fanfic feels like it's going on too long or ending too abruptly, which is because they didn't place their beats carefully. Maybe it's taking forever to get past the set-up, and then the ending feels rushed. Maybe they got to the end of the plot but kept writing little one-shots or vignettes that don't have any tension in them. Almost all pacing problems can be solved by beats!
There are two main beat sheets I use for writing romcoms, Save the Cat and Romancing the Beat. There are book and workshops for both. My spreadsheet I use for every book uses Save the Cat beats, which was originally developed for screenplays. Here's a screenshot of that from the spreadsheet i use religiously:
I try to focus on
inciting incident at 0 or 10% (catalyst)
fun and games 25-50%
mid point high right around 50%
Things get bad from 50-75 until dark night of the soul from 75-80%
Redemption 80-90%, climax around 90%, final snippet less than 1,000 after end of climax
I do the math on my word count and ideal final word count to reverse outline where i am. in my book that's going to be published, i was really struggling with how to fill the 50-75% chunk; it was perfectly paced up until the shattering of the false high at 50%, and I knew what would happen after the dark night of the soul at 75%, but my project was to figure out how i could keep the plot driving forward and interesting while the MC's mood and situation tanked for a full 25% of the book. It turns out in the most recent draft, that stuff is 52-86%, and is stuff i really love. i was able to work in other plot points earlier that had time to breathe and got the space they needed in that portion, as well as find the balance between 20k of boring moping and maintaining tension while the romance was tanked.
it's very very hard to use beats in a fic you're posting as you're writing it (which is most of the fics i post), but even having it in the back of my mind helps. For the Ultimatum fic i'm writing and posting now, i knew before i started posting what the midpoint false high would be, plus the dark night of the soul, plus the endgame. it's important to make sure any b-plots, or in the case other couples, get their shit resolved around the same times as Kacy does, so that we don't need too much wrap up/exposition after the kacy climax.
what other questions or thoughts do you have about beats and plot pacing? send them to me!
#ask zipps#writing advice#writing fiction#writing fanfiction#writing original fiction#writing beats#save the cat#romancing the beat
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Oh, God
"Blasphemy, Angel? That's not like you."
"No, I mean, MY GOD!"
DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT ANY OF MY THEORIES!! K thanks bye
At the start of Crowley's speech in the Final Fifteen, he starts off with "Oh, God." An odd thing for a demon to say, especially when we know he kind of chokes over saying "For Heaven's sake."
Everything is reading very differently now that I know that A. the entire Final Fifteen is emergency improv, and B. Maggie is Jesus and Crowley and Aziraphale have been trying to protect/hide her to prevent the second end of the world.
Aziraphale comes in and tells Crowley that the Metatron suspects something and is making threats, but if they both go to Heaven, they can be safe and allay those suspicions.
But Crowley knows that if they both go, there will be no one to keep an eye on Maggie.
Crowley says, "Oh, God," because that's what this conversation is about! He has to stay on Earth to watch Maggie, who is Jesus, who is God incarnate on Earth. The only way for him to stay on earth, if the issue is that the Metatron knows about Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, is if they break up.
Aziraphale does not want to fake break up. He wants Crowley to be safe with him, he thinks Maggie will be okay. Saraqael is in on everything, after all. But as they talk, he realizes that Crowley's right. Someone has to stay behind to watch Maggie, or the whole world could end. And Crowley will have a lot more freedom to move around without suspicion than Saraqael would. Aziraphale doesn't like it, but it's true. And since the Metatron is basically forcing Aziraphale to go and offering that Crowley come with, Crowley has to be the one to stay. And "No thank you" is not an option. The Metatron wants them both in Heaven where he can keep an eye on them, or broken up and separated. Their relationship is the big issue, so they have to seem to break it off.
Everything is clicking into place so fast right now. I don't even know if I can write fast enough to keep up with all my thoughts.
#good omens#good omens 2#crowley#good omens meta#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens analysis#good omens fan theory#ineffable mystery#ineffable divorce#the final fifteen#final fifteen#oh god
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