#s4 house ideas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toorurs · 1 month

Text

LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR

synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker

a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour

you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.

that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.

yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.

some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.

admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.

but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.

once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?

well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals.

“but what about dazai? that idiot just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right?

at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”

that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.

initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.

because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.

however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room.

this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room.

“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off.

you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”

“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.”

you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that’s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.

“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.

an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai.

just who in the world are they talking about?

dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”

“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.

“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”

dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity.

chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.”

“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.

“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.

after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.

“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys.

you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.

e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??

#𝓣𝓞𝓞𝓡𝓤𝓡𝓢: works ✯#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya nakahara fluff #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x gender neutral reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x gn reader #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya

442 notes · View notes

sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

***************************************

I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

***************************************

Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut

472 notes · View notes

nesscasims · 8 months

Text

Classic Contrast is an elegant, black and white kitchen. ✨ Have fun!

Wall size: short ✅ Room size: 7x6 ✅ Room tested in the game ✅ Custom content used! ✅ CC only TSR✔️

DOWNLOAD-TSR INSTAGRAM PINTEREST

Thank you so much to all the creators of cc for their amazing work.❤️

#ts4 #nessca #thesims4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #showusyourbuilds #sims4 #ts4 download #ts4 house #ts4 ideas #sims 4 interior #sims4cc #sims4 build #sims kitchen #sims room #s4cc #s4 custom content #s4c

80 notes · View notes

lhonna · 10 months

Text

It's About Reading - lovely suburban house for families interested in reading. The lot is very spacious for a family of 8 Sims. There is also a place for pets 🐶 🐱🐠

Download: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1656552

No CC!

Lot size: 30 x 20

Price: 135 961

Room list:

1] open plan kitchen and dining, and living room; guest bedroom; bathroom (shower and bath); 2] hall; master bedroom with office corner; bathroom (shower and bath); sundeck; kids bedroom; toddlers bedroom; second bathroom (shower and bath);

Created with: Growing Together, High School Years, Snowy Escape, Eco Lifestyle, Discover University, Cats and Dogs, Get Together, Moschino, Toddlers, Bathroom Clutter, Blooming Rooms Kit and Book Nook

For all likes and reblogs huge thank you! 🌷🌷🌷

@maxismatchccworld

#ts4 #ts4 house #s4 #sims4 #s4 house #nocc #s4 home #ts4 lot #lhonna #maxis match #nocc home #showusyourbuilds #nocc build #s4 nocc #growing together #book nook #tsr #the sims resource #the sims 4 house ideas

110 notes · View notes

freegamingideas · 1 year

Text

23+ Stunning Sims 4 Mansion Downloads: Get Yours For Free Now

Here, I’ve gathered a selection of the most stunning mansions around—and best of all? They’re free to download!

Whether you’re looking for a modern mansion, celebrity mansion, base game mansion, vampire mansion, gothic mansion, or something entirely else, I’ve got you covered.

You can find the post here.

60 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 1 day

Text

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Who Wears Short Shorts?

Letting himself inside, Eddie looks around, and the house seems empty, even if Steve's car is in the driveway. He pauses, and he's pretty sure he hears the faint sound of music coming from upstairs.

"Hey! Steve?!" Eddie screams, and waits. Nothing.

So, he climbs the staircase, and that's when he hears that the music is coming from the bathroom. He can also hear Steve and Robin talking, arguing, laughing.

When he gets to the doorway, he's very confused.

Very, very confused.

"What exactly is going on here?" Eddie asks, looking back and forth between Steve and Robin, both standing in the bathroom, wearing short shorts, white lotion slathered all over their legs, "And what's that smell?"

Eddie pulls his shirt up over his nose. It smells like some of the chemicals that Wayne sometimes comes home smelling like after a shift at the plant.

It's caustic. Burning his eyes and nose.

Robin wiggles her leg in his direction, "Nair."

"Hold still!" Steve chides her, trying to get her to stop moving without messing up the application.

"Nair," Eddie repeats.

"Nair," Steve confirms.

"And…"

"Who wears short shorts? We wear short shorts! If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts!" Robin and Steve both sing-song together, loudly, over the already loud music, waving their arms, legs kicking up together into a kickline, the idea of not moving around, obviously long forgotten.

And, oh. Steve's limber.

Flexible, and Eddie has thoughts he's not supposed to be having right now.

He feels insane as he reaches over and turns the music down, maybe a first, in his whole lifetime. He's not supposed to be the normal one in any situation. This is wrong. So wrong.

Like, he gets it. He watches TV. He knows what Nair is. Sort of. In theory. He definitely knows the commercial jingle. But he doesn't understand why this is happening right now. He thought they were going swimming. Not, whatever this is.

"You're using Nair? Why?" Eddie asks, because it smells like something that shouldn't be used by humans without proper ventilation. Maybe gas masks.

"Robin was curious, so I'm showing her how to do it," Steve says, like that's a normal thing for him to say.

"Okay, sure. Of course. New question, why do you know how to do it?" Eddie asks, as he mourns the loss of Steve's leg hair, that Steve is currently in the process of burning off with that eye-wateringly stinky cream.

"Swim team," Steve says, like that's an explanation. It's not. It's really, really not.

"Swim team," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, for like, all that aerodynamic shit," Steve says, and Eddie can't help it. He smiles.

The kitchen timer dings, loud and shrill, in the small room.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, leaning against the door jam, watching as Steve wipes the cream off of Robin's legs with a washcloth. Then forces her legs into the tub, one at a time, as he rinses them off. And Eddie can't tell if it worked or not, it's not like Robin's legs were all that hairy to begin with, at least not as far as he's ever noticed.

But, Steve. Steve's legs are hairy, just like the rest of him, and Eddie's curious. Morbidly, so.

Robin is running her hand over her legs, and Eddie watches as Steve just stands there, grinning at her.

"See?!" Steve says, excited.

Then she coughs.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Robin declares, and Eddie wishes she'd bring a little in for the rest of them, honestly. This bathroom needs a window, desperately.

After she goes, Eddie looks back at Steve, "What about yours?"

"Takes a little longer, my hair is way more thick and coarse than hers," Steve says.

And, yeah it is.

Eddie doesn't want to admit, even to himself, what he thinks about all that body hair Steve has. But he definitely has thoughts about it. Lots and lots of thoughts.

"I'll do you next," Steve teases.

"The hell you will. I like my leg hair right where it is, Harrington."

"Suit yourself then," Steve says dryly, and he finally starts wiping down his own legs.

And yeah, he's losing hair up to his knee. Well, some of the hair. A little of it. Honestly, it seems very hit and miss as he wipes it away. Most of his leg hair just looks a little melted, singed, curled.

Damaged, not removed.

"Is it not working?" Eddie asks, curious what the plan is here.

"Well, it's not perfect," Steve laughs, and it looks pretty bad, but Steve doesn't seem to care, as he adds onto his thought with a breezy, "Oh well."

"Are you just gonna leave it like that?" Eddie asks. Because, honestly. No.

Steve just shrugs, "I guess I could shave them."

And Eddie is pretty sure his brain short circuits, because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is totally against his will, "Can I shave them for you?"

Steve stops, looks at him, then laughs, shrugging his shoulders, "Sure. Okay."

Eddie isn't sure why he asked that, and he feels like his cheeks are on fire. Steve reaches into the medicine cabinet, producing a razor and a can of shaving cream, handing them both to Eddie. Then he plugs the tub, runs some water, and wets his legs with a washcloth, before sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

Oh shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

"You want me to…?" Eddie asks, trailing off, waving his hand holding the shaving cream towards Steve's legs.

"You're the one that asked," Steve says, teasing him.

Eddie swallows, kneeling in front of Steve, squeezing some of the shaving foam onto his palm, and then runs it up Steve's leg, applying it, stopping when he gets to the knee.

Steve pulls up on his shorts, his already very short shorts, making them even more indecent, "Might as well go on up."

Eddie's dick twitches at the idea, but he nods, getting some more shaving cream and rubbing it up onto Steve's thighs.

Then he holds the razor in a slightly shaky hand, "You sure you want me to do this?"

Steve shrugs, "It'll grow back."

Eddie nods. That's not exactly what he was asking, but he grips Steve's foot in his hand, and starts running the razor upwards, gently. Trying to be careful. One stripe in, he leans over and rinses the blade off in the tub, looking back up at Steve's face.

And then keeps shaving, getting everything off his lower legs, before pausing, then just forges ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He puts Steve's heel on his shoulder, giving him access to the underside of his thigh, and he's fully hard in his own shorts now, and he really hopes Steve won't notice. He's sure this isn't supposed to be that. He's not supposed to be getting off on this.

But he is. He really, really is.

He's such a goddamn pervert.

Then he sees it. The hard line of Steve's cock, pressing against his shorts. His tight shorts.

Eddie drops the razor. It clatters to the tile, and he laughs nervously as he reaches to pick it up.

What is he doing? What are they doing right now? It's madness. It's the fumes. They've gone to their heads. They've lost critical brain function, the both of them. That must be it. It's the only explanation.

Robin turns back up in the doorway, and they both turn and look at her. It must look crazy, Eddie between Steve's thighs, his leg hoisted up, covered in shaving cream.

"Oh, ew. No," she says, and disappears just as fast as she'd arrived, slamming the door behind her as she goes.

Steve chuckles, and Eddie gets back to work. Shaving, rinsing. Over and over, until Steve's legs are both bare.

It's weird, but Eddie can't help himself, and he runs his hand up Steve's calf, slow. Exploring.

And Steve moans.

Oh, goddamn.

Eddie suddenly raises up on his knees, sending Steve backwards, off-balance, falling against the toilet tank.

"Am I reading this wrong?" Eddie asks, chest heaving. Both of his hands clutching Steve's wet, smooth thighs.

Steve shakes his head, pupils blown wide, and Eddie runs his hand up, cupping Steve through his short shorts. Leaning forward, pressing against Steve, contorting Steve's body, as Eddie leans close enough to kiss him.

And he does, lips barely brushing, lightly, and it isn't lost on Eddie that he put his hand on Steve's dick before they even kissed.

Steve leans forward, surging into him, kissing back. Hand coming up to press against the back of Eddie's head, pulling him closer.

And Eddie's sure he'll die right here, for real this time.

If not from the lingering toxic fumes, definitely from Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: There are lots of different versions of the Nair "short shorts" commercials, but here's one from the 70s, if you're unfamiliar.

#a stranger summer #week one #prompt: short shorts #stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer

229 notes · View notes

whattheheckmidoriya · 6 months

Text

A Million Tomorrows

Description: Change was inevitable. Levi couldn't deny he felt it coming, nor could he deny the dread pooling his stomach at the thought of tomorrow. You seem to have a way of easing those fears off his shoulders.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Post-war Levi x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: AOT s4 spoilers, survivor's guilt. Let me know if I've missed something!♡

Author's Note: Hi, my loves!! It's been so long since I've had something to share with y'all, and I'd been working on this piece for a while, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterlist

Join the taglist here!

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Something in the air told him change was coming.

It unsettled him, the idea of not knowing what was to come in this new chapter of his life. How could the tides shift and the seasons change so effortlessly while his tortured mind remained in the past? How could he be expected to turn the page when there was still so much he didn't understand?

Levi Ackerman didn't fear many things in life, but change terrified him. He wasn't ready for it, at least he didn't think so. The world's orbit seemed to speed up just enough to leave him behind, alone and abandoned. He couldn't keep up, couldn't keep a steady enough pace to remain one with the times.

He was falling behind and didn't know how to cope with the fact. Humanity's Strongest had withered away the second war was no more and Levi Ackerman didn't know how to pick up the pieces, didn't know how to move on now that he no longer bore a soldier's purpose over his shoulders.

He was nothing but a hopeless man, aimlessly stumbling through this life, yet something bloomed within him now that his nights were spent by your side. Indeed, he was hopeless— hopelessly in love and devastated by the fact. How terrifying, to get lost in the warmth of your touch and seek refuge under your sweet embrace— to slink away from the world to satisfy his greedy desires of basking in your love.

You'd created something in him, something so beautiful it chilled his blood in fear. How exciting; how terrifying.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the warm painting of an afternoon sky slowly being consumed by the rolling of darkened clouds. Levi sighed, nursing a cup of tea in one hand while the other absent-mindedly traced patterns over the arm of his chair. His healing leg bounced over the wooden porch floors, almost impatiently.

Sitting idly always made him anxious. Though he always appreciated being able to savor his alone time, he often found himself seeking comfort in your presence. He'd picked up little habits that reassured him everything was okay— that you were okay. Holding your hand would subtly turn into his fingers sliding over your wrist, searching for your steady pulse. Caressing your cheeks allowed him to be close enough to feel your breath fanning over his skin, easing his nerves. He shyly started offering to bathe together, taking the opportunity to look over you, easing his mind with the knowledge that the scars on your skin were slowly fading with the passage of time.

The war hadn't taken you from him, yet he feared you'd vanish if he dared look away.

Music streamed from within the house, a melody you had claimed to be your favorite the moment you heard it on the radio. He had to admit, he liked it too, the familiarity of it enough to distract his racing mind. If he listened closely enough, he could make out the sound of your voice softly following the words to the song. The corners of his lips quirked into a tiny smile.

Love had made him soft.

Levi waited for you to join him on the porch, the tea in his hand now lukewarm. He cringed. He never liked the taste of cold tea.

A puff of air rushed past his lips as the sky opened up its gates, allowing for the land to be cleansed with a fresh wave of rain. He hummed nonchalantly. He never cared much for the rain, always despising how his shoes would sink into thick puddles of mud in the aftermath.

What a bother, he thought as a chilling breeze nipped at his skin and tousled his hair.

The former captain perked up at the sound of footsteps, relief pooling his chest. You'd finally decided to join him. As the door swung open, he turned in his chair to greet you but wouldn't get the chance to as you sped past him, leaping off the steps of the porch and into the rain.

A breathy laugh spilled out of your mouth, something beautiful and free."This is so nice!" You beamed, spreading your arms wide as the rain soaked your clothes. Wonder twinkled brilliantly in your eyes, your grin a wild thing that made your lover's chest ache.

He wondered, had your smile always been this big? No, he doesn't think so. Something was different— it felt new. A quick tug to his heartstrings had his mismatched eyes following you attentively. He could feel it in his bones, dripping down his stomach, pooling around his toes. Today's different.

Levi gaped at you, shaking his head. "Get out of the rain," he urged, wheeling his chair close to the porch railing. "You'll get sick."

He remembered having this conversation with you years before, both of you clad in torn uniforms, brandishing green cloaks, and worn-out boots. The scene was all too familiar, but your laughter was now wild, void of shame. Too many were the times he had to usher you back into the barracks, scolding you for being so careless. He could no longer count how many times he'd had to rush out of his office to drag you away from the ruthless downpour of a storm, nearly having to toss you over his shoulder to get you somewhere dry. You always said there was something about the rain that made you feel brand new. He always said you were crazy. But he couldn't say no to you now, not when something devilish and daring lingered in your gaze.

You merely turned to him, sticking out your tongue in retaliation. He scoffed.

Thunder roared a little closer now, and your smile only widened. You hollered in response, and your arms stretched up to the heavens. Oh, how sweet the taste of freedom, so fierce and lively.

"C'mon," Levi called after you, setting down his cup of tea. "It'll only get colder." He could already feel a chill crawling up his spine. Perhaps he should be seeking some towels to wrap you in— some warm blankets, too.

Instead of heeding his wishes, you ran further into the growing storm, your boots splashing into every puddle your feet stumbled upon. Mud splattered onto your ankles, tainting the dress that fell just past your knees. You jumped and twirled, laughter spilling past your lips with a joy so raw it seeped into your lover's ears like a sacred melody.

"Wait," He shouted as lightning struck, his heart pounding in his chest. Flashes of white and blue cut through the sky, their impact booming through the air. "Don't go too far!"

But you couldn't hear him anymore. You danced with the wildflowers, bending to the wind, each stomp and clap in rhythm with the crack of thunder. The drumming of rain kept the pace of your beating heart, so full of life and renewal. The heavens were the musicians and you, their valiant performer.

And Levi couldn't just sit by. No, because as lightning sparked through the heavens and the wind bit his nose with a chill, his heart only ached for you. Mismatched hues followed your every move, a pang of longing knocking on his chest.

Wherever you were, he was never too far behind.

"Damn it," he cursed. There was no time to go searching for his cane, the forsaken thing collecting dust in the back of his closet. With whatever strength he had within him, he latched onto the wooden railing before him and began pulling himself off his chair, his limbs protesting at the effort.

The former captain stumbled down the steps, his footing unsure, uneven. The aches in his leg scurried away as he stood a bit taller. Renewed confidence filled each stride once his feet landed on soppy mud. A new chill settled in his bones, something foreign and exciting.

"Come back!" He shouted, yet found himself going after you before he could think twice, his limp carrying him as best as it could. He felt like a madman chasing after falling stars. "Damn it, wait up!"

As if the wind had carried his voice to you like a sweet melody, you turned, a new giddy feeling tickling your heart as he slowly stumbled towards you. Something electric coursed through your veins, sweet and addicting. You laughed and cheered, kicking up more mud with every hop of excitement. Pride swelled in your chest at the sight of him, your heart threatening to chase after your lover.

A clap of thunder broke through the steady drumming of rain, almost as if urging Levi to keep going— he needed to reach you. His legs moved clumsily, the gap between you growing smaller. His hair stuck to his face in a sloppy mess, his clothes clinging to his healing body. Tints of pink dusted his scarred cheeks, nearly stinging his skin as the wind whispered sweet nothings into his ear. And though his bones whined and protested, the wages of war clear on his skin, he felt stronger than he had in a while.

"I'm coming!" Your voice rang through the air, almost as loudly as the chorus of booming thunder that followed.

And you ran to him.

A tug in his heart propelled him forward until he couldn't anymore. He tripped over his footing, his knee giving out and letting him meet the ground. And for once, he didn't care about the dirt under his nails or the horrendous state his clothing was in. Levi let himself get pulled to the dirt by the wind, his back to the ground. Facing up at the sky, he reveled in how the rain kissed his skin.

He's never felt more free.

How unusual, the feeling bubbling in his chest, a crazed little thing that pulled his lips into a smile. As a kid, he always dreamed of the sun, of feeling its warmth sink into his bones and fill his belly. He nearly laughed. How strange to find comfort in a raging storm.

You came like a dream. The dress hugging your body spread around your legs like a flower in bloom as you plopped down in the mud. Cold hands cupped the sides of his face tenderly, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. Cradling his head, setting it over your lap, you brushed his hair out of the way. Was he aware of how beautiful he was? A smile graced your lips, amusement clear in your eyes as he gaped at you, like a man drunk on stardust and hope.

The storm felt so far away now, though Levi was sure it had grown exponentially. But he couldn't focus on that. No, he was too enraptured by the sight of you to worry about such a thing. You, who kissed his scars each night, mapping them out like uncharted constellations. You, who thought his eyes were the most lovely combination of jewels. You, who now laughed so freely it made his heart stutter. He couldn't be any more in love.

"I love you," he breathed, unsure if you'd heard him. A trembling hand, gentle and cautious, reached up to you, wiping away the mud sprinkled on your cheek. His words came in a choked breath, scarred lips quivering under the weight of such sweet emotion, "I love you so damn much."

Something sweet bloomed in his chest, foreign yet familiar in a way he couldn't quite understand.

Even under the rain, Levi could see the tears swelling in the corners of your eyes, your smile so bright and warm. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. How had he managed to find such love? By no means did the odds ever feel to be in his favor, but perhaps the moon and the stars had conspired on his behalf, shifting the tides so that, at the end of it all, it would be you and him.

It didn't make any sense; there was no way for him to understand it. The mystery of this love was too big, but he stopped questioning things long ago. He stopped believing in coincidences. Some things, no matter how impossible they seemed, were meant to be. Like the way your hand perfectly fits in his or how his name resembles the songs of angels when spoken by your lips.

He never thought this life would ever be kind to him. Levi had only known hardship for so long; he'd learned to wear his grief and anger like a second skin. But the way you smiled at him, the way you held him as if he would shatter under your touch— it all made him think that maybe life had some hidden jewels waiting for him to uncover.

"You make this life a whole lot less shitty," His voice came in a hush, raw and flooding with emotion. Stormy eyes fluttered as you caressed his cheeks so tenderly, so gently he felt his chest tighten in an achingly beautiful way. "Thank you."

You smiled, choking on a tearful laugh. Levi seemed lighter. The sharpness of his eyes had softened with time, his infamous scowl slowly replaced by a small smile. His shoulders sagged, no longer tight under a soldier's promise of bloodshed. His knuckles no longer strained around the hilt of a sword but caressed the apples of your cheeks with sweet reverence.

He wore freedom beautifully.

"My sweet love," you mused, your voice like honey to his wounds, balming over the ghosts of battles past. "Thank you for staying."

A breath, sharp and unsteady, rushed past his lips, his chest caving in under the weight of raw emotion. His eyes widened, something new glossing over them. The man cradled in your touch crumbled, his lips quivering as he surrendered himself to the vastness of your love. A broken cry tore through his chest, his breaths uneven as he hiccuped.

He didn't think himself worthy— never believed it should’ve been him who rose with the sun each morning, basking in the warmth of a life others never had a chance to experience. A man forged by the wages of war had no right to savor the sweetness of this life, to have his wounds cleansed by the downpour of the heavens. Sometimes, his mind would drift off, and he'd wonder what this newfound freedom would've been for you had you not been held back by the prospect of nurturing him back to health. Would you have left? If things were different, would you have parted ways? His stomach overflowed with dread at such thoughts. He sometimes wished he'd been pulled into the cold clutches of eternal slumber, to have been whisked away into an abyss he could never escape from. Maybe then you wouldn't be burdened with the cards he'd been dealt with. Yet through his doubt, through his fears, your voice echoed in his heart, offering tender reassurance.

Thank you for staying. His heart ached, overwhelming him with tears he couldn’t seem to restrain. His scarred hand clung to yours tightly, almost as if your touch alone tethered him to this life. What had you done to him? How could you devastate his heart with such sweet love?

Your eyes softened as he cried. Softly, your free hand worked to brush strands of ink away from his face. The man before you was no longer the deadly soldier many feared; he'd retired his blades long ago. The man before you had been in hiding for far too long, holding himself together for longer than should've been asked of him.

Your lover was gentle and kind, and he feared what the future held. He hated not knowing what the sun would bring with its rising and falling— hated feeling uncertain of what his days would look like. But it all seemed a bit clearer now, a bit less fearsome. Something new glimmered in his eyes as his cries boomed louder than the crack of thunder.

Hope.

Change was in the air. He could feel it in his lungs, feel it in the soft breath that carried your words straight to his heart. It crackled all around him, loud, wild, and full of anticipation. It sent shivers down his spine.

Indeed, change was in the air, and, for once, Levi would beg the heavens for a million tomorrows if it meant he could live them all with you.

°•°•°•°•°•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist

@leviackermanmyhero245 @violet-19999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf @Bluetima @lemonboi69 @aconstructofamind @imjustasimpxd @notgoodforlife @bubsonnobx @a10vely-yutazen @Just-sana @Loca-raccoon @Hjnhuh @geese-goose18 @figlia-della-luna

#levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #levi attack on titan #aot levi #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman x you #captain levi fanfiction #aot x reader #levi aot #levi x you #captain levi ackerman #o

485 notes · View notes

therainscene · 6 months

Text

I think I might have figured out what the Mind Flayer really is.

This theory has been percolating in my brain for a while now; it hasn't really finished baking yet but I wanted to get the gist of it down before The First Shadow debuts.

Let’s begin at the Hawkins National Lab, 6th November 1983. For the second time in her young life, El faces terrifying and deeply traumatic circumstances which cause her powers to lash out and rip a gash in the fabric of reality.

Meanwhile, across town, Will is doing what every queer 12 year-old has done and finds an excuse to spend an extra moment alone with his crush.

His little gay heart is as aflutter as the garage lights.

(Strange, that. The lights, I mean -- considering that he's on the other side of town from the lab. Do you suppose the Demogorgon trekked all the way to Mike's house and quietly followed him home again?)

Will heads home, lost in thought as he cycles past the lab. Is he thinking about how sweet his new X-Men #134 is gonna be? Or is he thinking about something even sweeter? The lights flutter again.

And something in front of him notices.

Will has always been noticeable: his clothes, his mannerisms, his interests -- they've always attracted the attentions of bullies. Now something new -- or maybe something that was always there and is only now making itself known -- has attracted the attentions of a monster.

He runs home, he calls for help, but he's alone, there's no escape. He races to the shed and loads a gun like his father taught him -- but it's not in his nature to be violent. He freezes, petrified.

The lights surge as his terror wrestles control of his powers and uses them to puncture an escape route in the fabric of reality.

Why were we so quick to believe that the Demogorgon -- a minion of the guy whose whole thing is his inability to open gates -- was able to open its own temporary portals in S1 and then never again?

Will could plausibly have been responsible for every temporary portal in S1: he’s at the Byers house when the Demogorgon pushes through its walls; he's on the run to Castle Byers when Nancy stumbles across that portal in the woods; and he's plugged in to one of Vecna's vines during the finale -- something we see Vecna plug himself into when he remotely opens gates in S4.

There’s one exception though.

Barb likely slipped through a gate in Steve's pool, but how could Will have opened that one when he was in his bedroom at the time, talking to his mother through the lights?

Let me ask you this: isn't it interesting that of all the injuries Barb could have obtained in her passage to the Upside Down, she got a nosebleed?

I think powers are more common than we’ve been led to believe, and gates are a last-ditch self-defense mechanism for anyone with powers.

This is why the four curse victims’ deaths opened a gate: Vecna pushed them to their breaking point to artificially trigger the self-defense response. Those headaches and nosebleeds weren't caused by Vecna directly, but by their own powers acting up as they inched towards oblivion.

[Shoutout to @givehimthemedicine's underrated powers and blood theory for the idea of Vecna's Curse being the overcharging of his victims' own powers.]

It was already pretty obvious that Vecna's Curse is a metaphor for suicide, and this theory reinforces it: every kid who gets targeted by the horrors of Hawkins for being "different" tries to find some way to escape.

Willel's misfortune is that their powers are considerably more easily manifested than the average person's. Byler tells the story of visible vs invisible queerness, but that's just a reflection of the larger theme at play in the show: the visible and invisible ways kids are othered and abused.

Max's trauma was a quiet thing that came from within and festered until it was almost too late to save her... but Willel's trauma manifests as a giant monster that openly hunts them down.

And I'm being literal when I say the Mind Flayer is a manifestation of their trauma.

We know that Vecna fashioned the Mind Flayer from a cloud of black particles he found in the Upside Down, but where did that cloud come from? The Upside Down is a mysterious enough place that it's easy to assume the Shadow is native to that realm... but what if it isn't?

The Mind Flayer is heavily associated with repression -- Will gradually lost his memories while he was possessed, and El lost her powers when the sliver of Flesh Flayer wormed its way into her leg.

But Will has mysteriously been without powers ever since leaving the Upside Down, and we've seen El lose memories too: her memories of surviving the lab massacre, in which she didn't simply escape by opening up a gate, but by disintegrating her attacker into black particles.

The Mind Flayer doesn't cause repression -- it is repression.

There must have been countless generations worth of traumatized children who took the extra step El did and sent their abusers -- or at least their memories of abuse -- into that hidden realm beyond the gate.

(There's also the possibility that Mr. Time-is-Just-a-Social-Construct is stuck in a time loop of some sort -- maybe the massacre has repeated hundreds of times, and Dimension X is a timeless graveyard of El's attempts to repress her trauma. This would explain why Henry seems to have both disintegrated and survived: we were watching at least two different iterations of the massacre all along.)

Whichever way you slice it, it's a perfect fit: the tool Vecna uses to perpetuate the cycle of abuse isn't some bizarro alien from an alternate dimension, but a direct consequence of the cycle itself.

The Mind Flayer tells us that escape alone doesn't work as a long-term solution: it might help you survive the initial abuse, but if you don't address the effect it had on you...

...it will come back to wreck havok.

[Edit: Click here for post-TFS thoughts on this theory]

#stranger things #will has powers #willel #byler #will byers #el hopper #max mayfield #barb holland #henry creel #mind flayer #my analysis

473 notes · View notes

thewalkingthread · 6 months

Text

"He's Mine" - R.G.

pairing: rick grimes x f!reader

summary: s4 ep16. Joe's group finds you in the woods. reader is the one targeted instead of Carl

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore

a/n: this scene is my Roman Empire

You were tired, exhausted from the day's journey. It's been three days since the attack at the prison. Three days since you've seen most of your family. You were lucky enough to have found Rick and Carl after everything went down, even luckier when Michonne came knocking on the front door of the house you were hiding out in.

It was nighttime now, you sat in the front seat of a rundown truck while Carl laid down in the backseat. It was unlikely that you'd get much sleep being so vulnerable in the open right now but Rick and Michonne insisted that you get some rest.

Your eyes stayed on the pair as they sat on a log off the side of the road. Every so often Rick would look into the truck, his eyes locking on yours before he returned back to his conversation with Michonne.

Things with Rick has always been a bit confusing for the both of you. It was clear from the moment you met that there was something there between you. Of course, nothing ever came out of it. He was married and desperately trying to fix the brokenness in his family.

Now that Lori has passed, it's been even weirder. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move and burst the safety bubble you were in, in terms of friendship. Nonetheless, you both knew you cared for one another deeply.

Your eyes dart to the woods when you see movement. Your heart drops as you see a few men creeping in the trees, eyes directly on Rick and Michonne. You knew what was about to happen. You weighed your options. You could scream and warn them, but you had no idea how many of them there were, nor do you know their intentions.

You guys are incredibly unarmed, nothing good would come out of this.

"Carl." You mumble quietly, trying not to make it obvious that you weren't alone in the truck. You have no idea how many of them are our there, no idea how many people were looking at you right now.

Carl stirred and grumbled slightly at your call, you shush him immediately.

"Carl, I need you to very slowly and quietly lay down on the floor of the truck. Keep the blanket over you completely." You mumble. "There are people surrounding us. I need you to hide until me or your dad tell you to come out. Do you understand me?" Your heart raced as you saw the men creep out from the treeline.

Carl quietly did what you said. "Y/N? What's happening?" He was scared. Carl tries his best to keep up with his dad and be a man, but he's still just a boy. It's a scary world now.

"Everything will be okay. Stay hidden, no matter what you hear, okay? Promise me." Your breathe hitched.

"I promise."

That was the last thing he said before one of the men shoved his gun against Rick's temple. You jumped in your seat as another man smacked on the window next to you. You tried your best to avoid glancing back at Carl.

The man grinned at you through the mirror, the creepiest grin you've ever seen. You couldn't hear what the other men were saying to Rick, but eventually a few more men came into view.

The creep tapped on the window, licking his lips as he stared.

Daryl strolled up to the group, it looked like they knew each other?

"Joe!" Daryl yelled, giving a name to the mystery man. You could tell he was trying to talk down the man that held a gun to Rick's head. It looked like whatever Daryl was saying was working, the man still held his gun against Rick but it looked like he was thinking about what Daryl was saying. All hope and relief you felt when your eyes met his vanished when two men grabbed Daryl, punching and kicking him.

Your heart drops as the other man throws Michonne to the ground. The door of the truck swings open and you pray that Carl is brave enough to be silent.

The man grabs you roughly, pulling you out of the truck before patting you down and throwing your pocket knife a few feet away. You fought to wiggle out of his grip but he pushed you against the ground faster than you could blink.

"Shhh.." He says into your ear. "We're gonna have some fun, sweets."

"Leave her be!" You could hear Rick yell over all the commotion. The grunts of Daryl filled your ears as he got punched and kicked only a few feet away from you.

The man on top of you was chuckling as you tried to fight him off, clawing at him and squirming to get out from underneath him.

"Listen, it was me. It was just me." Rick grumbles to Joe.

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie." Joe chuckles. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men."

"Get off of me you sick bastard!" You shout, spitting at the man. His hands found it's way to your chest and you screamed as he touched you.

"First, we're going to beat Daryl to death. Then the girl. Then when Dan finishes having his fun with that one over there, we'll all have a turn." The smugness in his voice was deafening.

"Then I'm going to shoot you and then we'll be square." Laughter leaves Joe's body.

"Let her go." Rick says again, as your being turned onto your stomach.

You wanted to cry as Dan pressed your face into the dirt. The pain was forgotten as the sound of his belt buckle clanking rang through your ears.

"This is going to be a whole lot worse for you if you don't stop fighting." Dan grunts into your ear, pressing against your butt. Sobs begin to leave your mouth as reality of what was about to happen sets in.

There was no hope.

The man tugs at your jeans, trying to pull them down.

A gun fires. Everyone seems to pause for a moment. Dan stops for a moment and you take the opportunity to look up, praying that none of you were hit by the bullet.

You see Rick take a swing at Joe before Joe hits him right back, knocking him to the ground. Dan immediately goes back to what he was doing, trying to rip your clothes off of you. You reach for you pocket knife that was just out of reach.

Your cries filled at air when Dan pins you down once again.

"What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?"

Then a squelching sound fills the air before a body thuds to the ground. This time everyone freezes in surprise. You look back at Rick to see him completely covered in blood from his nose to his chest. He spits out blood and skin and your eyes fall onto Joe's limp body on the ground, blood gushing out of his throat.

Fuck.

Michonne doesn't waste a beat as she grabs a gun and shoots the guy holding her before taking out the ones that held Daryl.

Dan is on his feet in seconds once he realizes he's the only one left. He pulls you up, pressing against you as he holds a knife to your throat.

"I'll kill her. I'll- I'll kill her!" He shouts as Michonne points the gun at him.

"Let her go!" She demands.

Rick pulls a knife out of Joe, standing up and balancing himself. His eyes lock onto Dan, it was almost like he had tunnel vision. He pants.

"He's mine."

Rick takes a few strides towards you and you feel Dan's grip on you loosen as he's consumed with fear. He pushes you forward, staring to beg Rick for mercy.

Daryl catches you from hitting the ground as you watch Rick stab Dan over and over again. Michonne stands by you, trying to block your view of the slaughter.

"Carl." You whisper, realizing that he was still tucked inside the truck. "C-carl." You wiggle out of Daryl's grip, running to the truck and swinging the back door open.

You could see Carl's figure shaking underneath the blanket. "Carl." You say again. "Come on out, it's okay." You whisper. Slowly he peaks his head out, once his eyes meet yours, his body instantly relaxes and he's pushing himself off the ground and throwing himself into your arms.

You, Carl and Michonne stayed in the truck for the rest of the night while Daryl and Rick stayed outside. Nobody talked. Rick looked to be in his head.

Carl laid on across the back seat, his head resting on my lap. You tried to lull him to sleep but it was clear that nobody would be getting a blink of sleep after what just played out.

When the sun started to rise you asked Michonne to take your place, not wanting Carl to be alone. Daryl had gone out to scout the area.

You poured some water onto a clothe and sat down in front of Rick, settled between his legs but leaving enough space to make it appropriate.

His eyes flickered to yours as you wiped the blood off his face.

“Should’ve saved the water.” His voice was hoarse. You shook your head, trying your best to clean him.

“He shouldn’t see you like this.” You say calmly, wiping his hands clean once his face and neck were clean. Rick watched you intently.

“Are you okay?” His voice softens as he asks. You clear your throat, flashbacks of last night playing through your head. Ricks clean hand reaches up and his thumb rubs your cheek softly.

You were able to catch sight of your face in the car mirrors. Red scuff marks littered your face where you were pressed into the ground.

“I’m okay, it’s not that bad.” You shrug. Rick stared into your eyes, his hands still holding your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, really holding your gaze. Your chest tightens and you know you won’t be able to fight the tears.

Rick let’s go of your face but pulls your body into his immediately. You let the tears fall as he held you. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered in your ear. “I will never let anything happen to you. Ever.” He kept apologizing, his voice cracking every so often.

“You’re safe.” He says. “You’re safe with me.”

And you knew that he was telling the truth.

#Rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead one shot #Rick grimes one shot #Twd #Rick grimes fanfiction #Rick grimes fanfic #Carl grimes #Daryl Dixon #the walking dead fic #Rick grimes fluff #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n

498 notes · View notes