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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

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Cave boy Danny gets kidnapped by the joker. He's missing for an hour and a half at most but when the bats find him, he's sitting unbound in a chair looking at the jokers corpse. Danny's face has a soft smile and when asked what happened Danny just says 'justice'

Later they find video of Danny while tied up reading the jokers mind for absolute filth leaving him cry and broken on the floor, and the the camera glitches out and cute for a few minutes then comes back on to the joker dead and Danny free.

Danny wants it to be known that he hadn't gone looking for trouble, no matter what Tim Drake says. He only meant to go to the mall and do regular teenage things with the ward of cash Bruce had handed him.

He hadn't been lying when he said the mall back home was small, and after a lap, it got really dull. It was more entertaining to go to Nasty Burger than to linger around the few shops selling the same thing.

Alfred had let it slip the last time he came around for Danny's clothes- the old man had thrown a fit when Danny attempted to do his own laundry, and then Danny threw a fit claiming he had to do some of the chores or he wouldn't live there, and they came to an agreement to do 50/50 of responsibilities- that the mall was one of Bruce's favorite places to be as a teenager.

He didn't fully outsay it, but Danny could tell Alfred was getting tired of him not venturing out. Alfred also seemed bothered by Danny's lack of motivation for anything- and probably feared that he was slowly falling into depression for being stuck here.

Granted, Danny did not allow them to see him do anything besides sleep, eat, and laze about- with a shower every night- he could see where his concern was coming from. Danny was most active at night when he left a duplicate- he could not make it move or speak since it was a new power, so it placed it in his bed to appear asleep- and rushed away for a few hours to work on his ship.

So Alfred not so casually told him of Gotham Mall, with its five floors containing five hundred and twenty stores. The Mall at Amity Park only has seventy-one stores.

Danny was dying to see it just to see a mall that big.

Then the Butler made the deal sweeter by suggesting Danny do his outing alone, without his Wayne bodyguards, and convinced Bruce to give him some pocket money.

Nine hundred! Bruce's idea of pocket money is nine hundred, which means Danny could have an excellent time shopping. So Danny took a shower, threw on a nice pair of jeans that hugged all the right places- according to Steph- a black T-shirt, and scurried down the stairs.

At the door, Bruce talks in low voices with his sons- Damian and Jason- but all three turned to him once he appeared.

Damian's regular haughty expression evaporated once he caught sight of Danny's shirt. His jaw slacked in surprise as he breathed, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this? Alfred had it printed on a shirt for me." Danny gestures to the notable constellations floating in space's blue, green, and purple gasses.

Orion was the center of the work, being the only one with a figure shaped into a human with the stars that made him visible inside his body. The other constellations floating around him remained bright spots with no lines.

"I drew you that," Damian tells him as though Danny forgot where the image he passed along to Alfred had come from.

"Yeah, and I put it on a shirt 'cause it's awesome. I love it from the moment I saw it." Danny shrugs, watching with an amused grin as Damian's face flushes bright red.

The younger boy looks down at his feet, but not before Danny can spot the pure, unadulterated glee his words have caused in the kid.

"You have some taste, it seems." Damian mutters. Jason and Bruce are beaming, their eyes sparkling in a way that would belie their relationship is through adoption instead of blood.

"Most parents put their kid's drawings on the fridge instead of wearing them," Jason teases, and Danny shrugs.

"Most parents have talentless kids." He barely bites back the rest of his words. Damian isn't my kid because I am not Bruce, and he hurries to the doorway. "Anyway, I'm heading out. I'll be back by eleven,"

"You'll be back by nine." Bruce corrects, taking on the tone of a scolding parent. Danny is violently reminded of his own dad when Jazz is dating Johnny. He misses him. "Gotham is dangerous after dark. Alfred got us all to let you go alone, but that doesn't mean you can be reckless."

"Please, what's the worst that can happen?" Danny asked, practically skipping the stairs to the Uber Alfred called for him.

The worst that could have happened was that a stupid clown, calling himself Joker, had attacked the mall while Danny was browsing a gothic store.

He had been comparing two black dresses, trying to figure out which one Sam would prefer- and no, he was not blushing or feeling giggly thinking of her reaction. Just like he hadn't done the same when he picked up a personal electric planner for Tuck two floors down- when the Joker's goons had literally yanked him out of the store.

He only had a few minutes to blink in the bright light, as "Hot Topic" had been low light sightings for the store's ambiance, before he was thrown at the feet of a cackling man in purple.

His hands had been tied behind his back as they moved him, and Danny could only applause their quick hands. It's impressive for them to get it done with how much he thrashed.

Danny's first thought of the purple suit man was, "That's a ghost if I ever darn seen one," only to realize that his ghost sense had not gone off. The man just looked like that. How unfortunate.

"Well, well, if it isn't Brucie's newest charity case!" Joker shouted, yanking Danny's face up from his chin and leaning close to his face.

"Dude, personal space." He says, scrunching up his nose as the Joker's breath hits his nostrils. "Also, invest in some dental insurance."

"Oh, we have ourselves a jokester here, folks!" The clown's laugh did not hide the anger or shy away from madness. Danny suddenly felt he may have to tap into Phantom to get away from him.

This was a being that hurt others just because he could. Joker very existence was to simply harm others.

The very opposite of Phantom.

All of his instincts were screaming as Joker put his arm around Danny's shoulder and told the watching horrified crowd. "I'm a bit of a jokester myself. Why don't I give you private lessons and let these people judge whose death is funnier? Little Danny Kane or Bernad Dowd?"

The crowd parted, most gasping in horror as another teenage boy was dragged to the front. He was covered in wounds, bleeding a slow, sluggish mess, and his head bobbed as if though he was about to faint.

Danny's pupils shrunk, and his core raged as the boy was backhanded in front of him. Joker- the soon-to-be dead man- spread his arms, shouting for the whole world to be heard. "This is a special performance for Timothy Drake-Wayne. I hope you enjoy watching your boyfriend and adoptive brother partake in my game as a thank-you for your generous donation to the families of the last people I made laugh! I want everyone to know that any more donations to such families will have a similar show for their own loved ones!"

Danny's mind went white with a loud ringing, and somewhere far away, he was aware that Joker had them moved to a room to play his game.

He barely registered the camera being set up or tied to a chair surrounded by tortuous-looking items. He didn't even notice poor Bernard- already lost consciousness- tied to the chair beside him.

He only had eyes for the laughing man in purple.

But it was not Danny watching him, it was Phantom.

And Phantom was fresh out of mercy.

"No need for such an ugly frown," Joker chuckles, unaware of the ghost's core vibrating with the need to Protect what it recognizes a an attack on the Waynes.

An attack on his people.

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" Joker says, and- those are his last words.

Phantom pounces.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes an hour and a half for them to be found. It might have been more, but Danny had only counted for that amount. Bernad had been stabilized after he performed some emergency field first aid on him, trying his best to not look at the smear of bones and guts that used to be Joker.

Bruce breaks down the door with Tim rushing to his boyfriend in a frantic cry for his lover's name.

Danny steps back to let him have better access. He follows beside Bruce, watching Tim hold Bernad to his chest, breathing him in. He'll be fine. A few bruises and broken bones, but Bernad will leave.

"What happened?" Batman demands.

Danny looks up to stare at him right in the eyes despite the mask blocking his pupils. "Justice."

Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but the silence- for the first time since he found Danny in that cave- is heavy and weary.

Danny needs to hurry with his repairs. He thinks he is about to wear out his welcome at Wayne Manor. It's a pity he was just starting to like it there.

Master post link

#dcxdpdabbles #Cave boy #Part 6 #Offsecreen Murder #Danny just showed that he does have Bruce Wayne's volient reaction #Bernard Dowd #Damian was so excited about the shirt too #Danny was just minding his busniess

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anonymous-dentist · 1 month

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Or: Cellbit runs an alchemy shop with his family, and he's also the lost prince of the Gato Kingdom, but he isn't, but he really really isn't, you've gotta believe him, he isn't, really, he isn't, you've gotta-

For day seven of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Royalty/Family

The day starts off normally:

Cellbit wakes up to find himself alone in bed, Roier having already gone to work downstairs in the store.

He lazes beneath the covers before hearing his son shouting in the other room. Grudgingly, he gets up, slides on his slippers and his bathrobe, and he goes to get Richarlyson settled with a new coloring book because, according to Richarlyson, Pepito ate the last one.

(Pepito did not eat the last one.)

Cellbit goes back into his bedroom to change, and then he goes to the wash basin in the hallway to brush his teeth and wash his face. He goes to the kitchen, shoves a singe slice of bread in his mouth for breakfast, tells the kids to behave, decides to live in ignorance and believe that they actually listened to him, and then, finally, he goes downstairs to help Roier with the shop.

That's when things get weird because, instead of the normal dozen or so customers they usually get in the mornings before things get busy, there are a handful of people in shiny armor with pointy swords, and there's a woman with cat ears leaning against the counter talking at an indifferent Roier.

Cellbit freezes on the stairs. Absently, his hands raise to his own ears, thankfully pinned down today with his alchemical goggles. He tends to have them out more days than not now, but. Well. Old habits die hard.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Roier casually say. He isn't even looking at the woman, he's, instead, inspecting his nails- recently painted by Jaiden and absolutely adorable, just like he is. "But we do have a sale on luck potions if you wanna try one of those."

The woman's eyebrow twitches, and, for whatever reason, Cellbit doesn't think that she's here to buy something. Between the fine quality of her clothes and the literal knights with her and her entire aura, she just screams royalty, and that's a bad thing.

That's a really bad thing.

But Roier seems to have it under control, so, silently, Cellbit starts sneaking back up the stairs. If Roier needs him, he'll scream, and then Cellbit will rush down and kill everybody in the room and blame it on a sudden alchemical reaction gone wrong. Easy.

Except:

The door to the living quarters slams open and Pepito comes rushing out of it with tears streaming down his face.

"Apa!" he cries, leaping into Cellbit's arms and nearly sending him stumbling back down the stairs. "Richarlyson ate my crayons and now he's dying!"

(Richarlyson is not dying.)

Cellbit can practically smell the irritation coming off of Roier, even if he can't see him with his back turned to both him and the store and the really annoying royalty inside.

And, sure, Cellbit is annoyed, too, but he's also a father. So he just sighs and holds his son and lets him cry into his shoulder.

"Who's there?" one of the knights asks.

There's the sound of a sword being drawn, and then there's the sound of another sword being drawn and, really, is a peaceful retirement too much to ask for? Pac and Mike got one. Bad got one. Even Etoiles has some sort of retirement plan he's supposedly following between father-daughter dungeon-busting field trips.

The way Pepito is being held has him looking down the stairs and at the very rude people about to kill his parents, so Cellbit turns around so that Pepito is facing the door instead. He's always preferred looking danger in the face, anyway; it's much easier to be stabbed in the back than the front, after all.

Cellbit passively looks from one knight to another. He skips his eyes over the woman entirely. He catches Roier's eye, subtly rolls his own eyes, adjusts his hold on Pepito.

"Sorry," Cellbit says, "but my son is dying. I'll be right back."

"He's dead!" Pepito wails, ever-helpful. He's such a good kid.

The woman frowns. Cellbit doesn't think he likes her face. It's too... uncanny, like a doll come to life. Or, rather, like an image escaped from the mirror above the wash basin, and Cellbit does not like the implications of that, thanks.

As the knights start to advance, the woman holds up a hand to stop them.

"Hurry up," she says.

"Yeah," Roier agrees. "Tell Richas to die quicker, we have company."

Pepito screeches right into Cellbit's ear, making him wince very angrily in Roier's direction; all Roier does is wink and motion with his fingers for Cellbit to hurry up.

Cellbit quickly takes Pepito back into their living quarters and puts him down on the sofa.

Richarlyson is on the floor, very calm, very much not dying, and very much using Pepito's crayons in his own coloring book.

Pepito gasps, tears gone and replaced with wide, shocked eyes.

"But you ate them!" he exclaims.

Cellbit sighs, "Your brother is a magician, now can you two please behave for ten minutes while Roier and I deal with those people downstairs?"

Richarlyson's head perks up. "There are people downstairs?"

Cellbit nods. "Bad people, probably. If you hear glass breaking, you know what to do."

It's Richarlyson's turn to nod.

They have a plan. If things go down in the shop, Richarlyson and Pepito stay upstairs and hide until either Cellbit or Roier goes to get them. If the kids hear glass breaking, they are to escape out their bedroom window and climb down the tree outside and run to their Uncle Bad's house until Cellbit and Roier can get rid of the bad guys and save the day.

(Roier's words, not Cellbit's. Apparently, calling unruly customers or the police "the enemy" is bad. Go figure.)

Cellbit makes the kids both pinky promise him to follow the plan before letting out a long, stressed-out breath and starting back downstairs.

First, though, he dips into the kitchen and grabs his favorite butcher knife from off of the counter and tucks it into the custom-made sheath hidden beneath his jacket. Just in case.

Once downstairs, he's immediately manhandled by the knights until he's pushed up against the counter. Unfortunately, he isn't pushed behind the counter. But at least he can act as a shield... just in case.

On instinct, Cellbit reaches behind himself and takes Roier's hand. Roier takes it and squeezes gently, his thumb rubbing little circles into the skin by his thumb.

"Well," Cellbit says, looking from the knights to the woman, "you want something. What is it."

It isn't a question. It's more of a demand, really, and maybe he's stupid for demanding answers of royalty, but, like. Fuck the monarchy. What have they ever done for him?

The woman speaks: "We're looking for whichever one of you is Cellbit."

If they weren't already pinned down, Cellbit's ears would be flattening themselves to the top of his head. He bites back a hiss and instead just squeezes Roier's hand.

The woman continues with, "I'd like to bring him back with us to-"

"Yeah, okay," Roier casually says. "I'm Cellbit, hello."

Out of the corner of his eye, Cellbit can see Roier waving; he stifles a smile. He's so stupid...

Cellbit turns around and gasps dramatically. "Gatinho, no! You can't leave us!"

Roier bites his lip and looks away, turning his head to the side.

"But guapito," he says, dropping his voice an octave just for effect, "if I don't go, then... what about you and the children? They might-" (He moans and bows his head.) "-kill you. And then what would I do with myself?"

"Oh, don't worry!" the woman quickly says. "We won't hurt your family! That's why we're here, actually, to bring you and your family with us."

Cellbit ignores her. He reaches across the counter and cups Roier's cheek with his free hand, gently nudges his face until he raises his head and looks Cellbit in the eye; Roier's eyes are already wet with unshed tears, wow, he's good.

"But what will I do without you?" Cellbit demands, pitching his voice up just slightly. "Don't be stupid! I love you, pendejo!"

(They do this a lot, believe it or not. It drives Richarlyson crazy every time they do it because it somehow always ends up with them kissing until they're out of breath and shaky in the knees.)

"Não!" Roier cries. He squeezes his eyes shut and rips himself away from Cellbit entirely, staggering back and leaning against a display shelf full of anti-gravity potions. "Don't say that!"

"Say what?" Cellbit asks. "I love you!"

Roier screams and flinches against the case. "Não!"

Cellbit leans over the counter. "I love you."

Roier moans his time, his hands flying out wildly and grasping onto seemingly-random bottles on the shelf. "Não!!"

Cellbit extends a hand. "I. Love. You. Te amo, guapito."

One of the knights asks, "What the fuck is going on?"

And then the knights all start shouting as Roier opens his eyes and lunges to shove a potion into Cellbit's hands.

Cellbit grins and yanks the cork out of the bottle and chugs the potion and slams the empty bottle against the floor. It shatters, and he jumps.

"What the fuck?" the woman demands.

Cellbit twists mid-air and lands on the ceiling. He waves down at Roier, blows him a kiss, and takes off running for the back potion room. The door is closed, but the ventilation window above the door is open because he was supposed to be making potions right now. Silver linings.

He dives through the window, just barely managing to squirm through. He grunts, frowns, regrets getting this old, makes it through.

His goggles are nudged off of his head, though, leaving his ears on full display as he escapes into the potion room.

The woman gasps, "Get back here! Cellbit!"

But Roier just cheers, "Corre, gatinho!"

The potion room's door thuds and shakes in its hinges as the knights all slam against it. But, like, fuck those guys.

Cellbit runs down the length of the ceiling until he's reached the wall facing the alley behind the shop. He steps onto the wall, and then he runs down that until he's by the window. Again, ventilation, he should be working right now, but no, he can never know a moment of peace.

The potion starts running out just as Cellbit crawls through the window and lands on the shop's outside wall. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, but it's fine. Just trash, it's fine.

There's shouting from the front of the shop and the sounds of more bottles shattering. Roier sounds fine, though. He's even laughing, of course he is. He's badass, and Cellbit loves him, and Cellbit just wishes he was there to watch Roier swing his sword around like the sexy piece of shit he is.

The potion's effects wear off as Cellbit's feet touch the ground; two minutes, just as he'd made it to be.

He can see Richarlyson and Pepito running for it at the far end of the alley. Good, they actually followed directions for once.

Cellbit turns to run after them and get Bad's help, but he's stopped by a firm hand grabbing his shoulder from behind.

He snarls and pulls his knife out of his coat, spinning and slashing and just narrowly missing the woman's throat.

"Cellbit!" she shouts. "Calm down, it's just me!"

Cellbit responds by lunging at her with his teeth bared. He's been filing his teeth down for years, but he knows that he still cuts an intimidating figure when he's pissed enough.

The woman doesn't seem afraid, though. If anything, she just seems angry. And sad. Mostly angry.

She easily sidesteps his attack and yells, "It's me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Oh, that's cute. Royalty asking why someone would want to hurt them, that's funny. They have the self-awareness of a walnut, all of them.

"Stop shouting 'it's me'!" Cellbit snaps. "Why should I care who you are?"

The woman's face starts turning red from frustration. "Because I'm your sister!"

Oh, that's rich.

"I don't have a sister," Cellbit sneers.

He swipes at her. Of course he does, he doesn't have a sister. He didn't have a family before he and the others found Richarlyson, and he only has one now that he has his kids and his husband.

"Then why do we have the same ears?" the woman demands.

She ducks under his knife and sweeps his legs out from under him. He falls and hisses and growls and does all sorts of things that princes might do because he isn't royalty. He knows that for certain. His first memory was him eating the corpse of a soldier on an empty battlefield, and it's with that image in mind that he snaps his teeth at the woman's throat.

"Only the royal family of the Gato Kingdom is born with feline features," the woman snaps. "Idiot!"

"Fuck the Gato Kingdom," Cellbit spits. "Your war destroyed everything I had!"

The woman's eyes turn sad. "It destroyed everything I had, too. It took my family from me. My friends. My home. We're just now starting to rebuild, and-"

She shrieks as Cellbit manages to flip their positions so that she's the one being pinned to the ground.

"So you show up and try kidnapping someone to fill in for your lost prince?" he snarls. "You people haven't changed."

The woman's mouth thins into an angry line. "I'm not trying to kidnap you! I just want to bring you home!"

"I don't have a home! This is my home!"

"You really don't remember, do you?" she asks, voice low. She isn't even struggling any more, not really. "It's me, your sister. Bagi."

The name stings Cellbit's brain in a way he doesn't like.

"I don't know you," he firmly says. "You don't know me. Leave my family alone."

He stands, hands shaking, head spinning. He doesn't like this.

Roier calls his name from the front of the building.

Cellbit, sure that this Bagi won't do anything while she's busy crying, turns and starts running towards the store.

He doesn't make it three steps before getting thwacked in the back of the head with something large and heavy and metal.

"Sorry," Bagi flatly says.

As he falls to the ground, his knife falls from his hand and ends up just out of reach.

He lands on his stomach and immediately tries standing again.

But he's stopped by a foot on his back pressing him down.

"I'll be sure to bring your family with us," Bagi tells him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Could have fooled me," Cellbit mutters.

Darkness takes him at last as Bagi smacks him again with her weapon, and all Cellbit can think is that he hopes that the kids ended up making it to Bad's after all.

#catboy in the village au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#guapoduo #spiderbit #sorta #SPEEDRUNNING BC I HAVE A BUSY AFTERNOON BYE

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jo-harrington · 3 months

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Standard Operating Procedures 1.05 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's a normal Sunday night. You're just going over to have dinner, smoke, and listen to music. It's not a date. What could possibly go wrong?

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.04

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining, alcohol and drug use (wine, beer, and weed), R has a minor panic attack while high, fluff, lighthearted smut (petting/groping/dry humping), minor angst, misunderstandings and miscommunication, driving probably a little under the influence, slight anachronism (slapping the bag)

Note: Big note for this one if you've read the most recent installations of SMVerse that I've posted...this is NOT in chronological order. SM and Eddie are not together in this one, we are rewinding back before Closing Time. This chapter and the next one are both a little longer and have been lingering in my head for quite a long time. Almost a year. So without further ado, please enjoy SOP 1.05.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Sundays were your favorite days, hands down.

They sort of always had been, even before moving to Hawkins. Now, though, you had an extra special reason why they were your favorite.

Sundays meant that you could be yourself after you clocked out. They meant standing in the mirror and wiping away the layers of glitter eyeshadow and scented nail polish off. They meant shedding the overly sparkly jewelry from work and the trendy clothes from the JCPenney or Madigan's Juniors department that were definitely cut for a teenage body.

No matter how young you still were, you just weren't sixteen anymore.

You could finally breathe a little easier.

No more Dress to Impress, no more preppy popular girl, no more customer service voice.

Sundays meant freedom.

Lately, part of that freedom meant walking out of the store, taking the most freeing breath you could, and walking right up to your crush best friend so you could spend those last few dying hours of the weekend together.

Shooting the breeze, laughing, and getting to know one another. Getting to really see one another.

Tonight, though, there was just this cloud hanging over you as you stood in the store's bathroom after hours and shucked off the plaid vest and fashionably unmatched skirt you'd chosen for the day in favor of a t-shirt and comfy stirrup pants.

Summer was over, school was back in session, and you hadn't gotten to see Eddie as much as you normally did.

Which, in the grander scheme of things, a lot of things changed with the new school year starting: a bunch of your associate's schedules changed, a few of them even left town for college, and business started to slow a little during the week for the first time since the store opened.

Still, you missed him.

It felt weird from practically seeing him every day to only seeing him in passing or on the weekends.

What if he didn't want to be friends anymore?

Well, that was just silly. Some remnant of fear about the fickleness of your friends memories in childhood. Besides, the first shift after school started back up, he immediately came running to your store and talked your ear off about the new kids that he forced to join Hellfire.

"God, they're such losers," he reminisced with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "They have so much potential. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Tonight though...

Tonight was like any normal night; you were getting together after the mall closed and picking up pizza.

However, instead of any of your usual haunts or shenanigans in and around Hawkins, Eddie insisted you come over to his place. Totally normal.

"And we can smoke," he added as an afterthought.

"You know I don't smoke Eddie," you reminded him. "My grandpa and his crackly lungs? I've taken him to enough doctor's appointments."

"Doesn't stop you from sucking up the air around me when I'm having a cigarette on break. No. I mean smoke. Reefer. Weed. Jesus, don't act ignorant Miss Goody Two Shoes."

"Excuse me," you choked. "How am I Miss Goody Two Shoes?"

"Because," he began with dramatic emphasis. "For all of your stories about garage beers and parties that your work friends dragged you to, you've never mentioned partaking in any sort of illicit substances. You're being obtuse on purpose or you're afraid."

You were caught like a deer in the headlights.

"I...I'm not."

And you weren't; it wasn't fear. It was just...inexperience.

Back home you were always careful, even when you hung around friends from school or work; with your overprotective father and uptight mother and two brothers who wouldn't hesitate to rat you out if they found out you broke some kind of rule? It would be over.

So you never got too wild at parties. Disheveled clothes could be straightened, and you could pretend that swollen lips were just a side effect of getting a little sick. You never drank more beer than whatever made you feel a little floaty if you weren't sleeping over at a friends. And you never smoked weed.

Ok so it was fear, in a way; residual fear. Just not the way Eddie thought.

"Hey, don't worry," Eddie said in the most understanding way he could. "You just tell me and I'll drop it, if you're afraid."

You wanted to tell him, wanted to explain it, but in a moment of reflection and wanting to assuage his worries, defiance got the better of you and you told him that you weren't afraid and it would all be fine.

You were going to be with him; you never needed to be afraid when you were with him.

Now though, staring at yourself in the mirror as you got ready to go and meet Eddie you realized you might have made a mistake.

Hanging out with your crush friend alone at his place? Fine. Sitting close on the couch as you ate pizza and listened to music? Cool. Drinking and smoking together, knowing that you got a little bit chatty when you loosened up a little bit under the influence? Uhm.

What could possibly go wrong?

---

The spread that you and Eddie had created was impressive.

Pizza and a six pack and red vines and...and...and...

Eddie was usually very thorough when it came to providing snacks or planning outings where you could get a nice little treat together. Tonight it was partially your fault.

You'd originally planned just to drive to his place after work and the pizza would be delivered, but he said that when he'd called to place the order at Lou's--large pepperoni and a box of cannoli--they told him that the delivery driver was out. Takeout only.

But then he also forgot to stop at Bradley's for soda.

So you offered to go to Bradley's while he picked up the pizza, and you might have gone overboard.

Soda and a box of wine and peanut m&m's and...and...and...

"And you say that I'm bad," Eddie scoffed as you walked in, arms laden with shopping bags.

"Excuse me, this is the once in a blue moon you let me pay for anything, I'm gonna take advantage of it."

Wayne was still home getting ready for his shift when you got there and he simply shook his head at your bickering with a fond smile, then pilfered a little of everything for his own dinner before leaving you both to it.

Once he was gone, the festivities began.

You were both overzealous, talking a mile a minute over each other about your days as you set up for the night. Eddie divvied out food--creating a plate that reminded you of the Peanuts' Thanksgiving feast, overflowing with multicolored candies and popcorn and pizza slices--as you took care of the drinks.

You were a little smug that you got to teach Eddie something during these little Sunday night not-dates for once.

"Where did you learn this?" he asked skeptically as you ripped into the cardboard box. "What even is Franzia? Sounds fancy."

"It is the least fancy thing you can get," you grinned maniacally and freed the floppy plastic bag full of pink liquid from its confines. "Honestly I should have thrown it in the fridge but it's fine. You can put it with some coke; it'd probably taste better anyway."

He made a face.

"I'll just have a beer."

"Oh my--Eddie! Live a little." You settled the bag on the coffee table and gestured to it. "You don't have to drink it...chug a beer, I don't care...but you need to slap it."

He huffed and shuffled across the carpet on his knees to settle beside you.

"Is this a Claire's thing?" he asked, he looked up at you through his bangs.

"No it's not a--well...no. It doesn't matter! My old store manager, Jen, made us do it whenever we went to parties and hung out at her place. It's fun."

"Why does this feel like a lie?"

You reached out and smacked your hand against the plastic, listened to the liquid slosh inside. He let out a long suffering sigh but gestured for you to go ahead and he settled on the floor as you squealed with glee.

Eddie popped the little tab on the spout and the cheap wine poured freely into his mouth; he maintained eye contact with you the whole time, even as he choked on the unfamiliar taste of the pink zinfandel.

When you'd hung out with Jen and your coworkers and friends, it was just...a silly thing. Now, though, it was just you and Eddie; you stood over him with the bag gently held in your hands over his mouth and his hand rested on your calf as he drank. It was tense and intimate and as you started feeling a little hot under the collar, you wondered if this was a mistake.

Regardless, when he'd had his fill, he shut the spout and raised his hand and slapped the bag so hard it soared out of your grasp and across the living room.

You both burst out laughing as it swished and sloshed with a pronounced glorp on impact with the floor, and Eddie collapsed against your legs as the giddiness got the better of him.

"Ok, that's better than a keg stand." He looked up at you and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Blagh...probably gonna need that coke if I have any more though. Your turn, sweetheart."

Then the tables were turned, but unlike Eddie, you stood toe to toe with him as he held the bag for you.

To avoid the tense eye contact, you kept yours closed as you pulled mouthful after mouthful from the bag. You almost felt a little smug; you'd always been good at this, despite how awful the wine burps were gonna get after. You knew Eddie's competitive nature--always seeing who could finish a blizzard from DQ first and giving himself a brain freeze in the process--so you were hoping to last a little longer, hit the bag a little harder, and get him to concede.

You counted down in your head and finally when you couldn't take the heartburn the wine caused any longer, you shut the spout and released it, ready for victory.

Of course, opening your eyes provided nothing of the sort.

Eddie stood there, inches away from you; his pupils were blown and he was breathing a little heavily and for a split second you thought to ask if he was ok.

Until he leaned a little closer.

Close enough where you could smell the laundry detergent and the general amalgamation of mall scents coming off of him.

Then you noticed that his eyes were locked onto…your lips?

Was he gonna kiss you?

You already thought…well…and in the van the other week? When he licked frosting off your hand? You'd thought...

Except that was the thing, you always thought, you never acted. Too stuck in your head weighing and judging the options and if you could just do something about it. If you could just lean forward a little, you could stop worrying and have your answer right?

And if it wasn't meant to be and things were weird? If he didn't actually mean to try and kiss you? You worked retail; you could bullshit with the best of them if worse came to worse.

Then you'd just pretend that your heart didn't ache from rejection for the duration of your friendship. You were already familiar with disappointment; this would be no different.

Alright, that's it, you weren't gonna chance it anymore. All the worrying you did back at the store was enough. You were just gonna kiss him. Just lean forward; just go. Just go. One, two...two and a half...

Eddie's eyelids fluttered a little bit, and your heart clenched in hope, until he leaned away and cleared his throat.

The wine bag was tossed onto the coffee table and Eddie gestured to the plates he'd prepared.

"So, pizza?"

---

Music was the next event of the night.

And the weed.

Funny how all of your anxiety over smoking flew out the window when you were anxious about something else.

Because you just couldn't get your feelings out of your head after Eddie walked away from a kiss like that.

Was it even going to be a kiss? Or was it just the awkwardness of your positions in that situation? Were you overthinking the overthinking?

On and on those thoughts spiraled.

Until Eddie said he was going to get his stereo to start your comprehensive education of metal.

"We really don't have all night Eddie," you said and threw a balled up napkin at him as he fiddled with his tapes.

"Ok, maybe not fully comprehensive," he held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing sounds better than vinyl and I have all of that at Rick's. And my mom's records. You wanna talk about classics? We've gotta spend a whole weekend there."

He put a tape into the slot and hit play and the room was immediately filled with guitar riffs and singing and shouting; he turned the volume down immediately.

"I've gotta give you the whole history sweetheart," he explained. "So you've gotta hear me too. This song's not so important...I'll turn it up when we get to the good part."

Of course, Eddie's music history lesson...started with him.

"Picture this," he said, arms waving as he walked over to his school things that had been haphazardly thrown in a corner of the room: a wilted canvas backpack, a black binder, and a dented metal lunchbox. "11-year old me, fresh after my mom's funeral and everyone she knew was coming up to us but I refused to talk. Wayne kept making excuse after excuse. But Rick, bless him, said 'gotta make him cry.'"

And on he went as he spilled the contents of the dented lunchbox on the coffee table and began the fine work of rolling a joint.

"Took me to the record store, let me pick out whatever I wanted. Of course I chose Sad Wings of Destiny because the art was cool. Little did I know that would change the course of my life forever."

You didn’t know what to focus on and that made you spiral a little bit further. The words, the music, his lips and his fingers as he followed steps that he seemed to know but didn't feel the need to elaborate on were all very appealing targets; the music and his story was what was important here though and you made the attempt.

He told his story in a way that only Eddie Munson knew how to—arms flailing, minute details, expressions and voices and everything you loved admired about him. He took a moment to swap cassettes and crank up the volume before he fell onto the couch beside you in a mess of cushions and limbs and hair.

"I would say ladies first," he began as he presented the joint to you. He then stuck it between his lips and continued talking around it. "But I'm nothing if not a gentleman and I need to teach you how to do this. It's a little different than cigarettes."

It was a comprehensive lesson and you'd gotten the hang of it quickly, but the proximity did nothing to help calm your nerves; Eddie's knee touching yours, his face and hands so close to yours as he held the joint to your lips, then one hand your shoulder as he soothed the cough that escaped you after your first hit, and finally the way he inhaled along with you as you took another.

Want burned in your lungs along with the smoke, but it didn't leave you when you finally exhaled.

You were very much looking forward to the light and mellow feeling that Eddie promised once the weed hit your system.

"Until then," he grinned and took another hit himself before dropping the smoldering stick into a nearby ashtray. "We just dive into the mind of the great Ronnie James Dio."

You rested back against the cushions and turned your head to really watch him; it was strange just...observing him. You had never done it like this before, close and quiet at this distance. Your time together was always spent with conversation and laughter, your observations and mental notes about him done in little snapshots as he moved through life like a blur.

Now you got to experience the simplicity of his presence in private and the addictive frequency that he emitted.

It was nice.

You watched the way his lashes brushed against his skin as he melted into the sofa beside you and closed his eyes. The way his plush lips pursed and then stretched as he hummed along to the music. You closed your own eyes for a second as he matched the sharpness of the lyrics with his voice, hushed and then shrill, and then hushed again.

And when you opened them back up to watch him some more, he was watching you and practically vibrating.

Your heart skipped a beat...

"Sweetheart," he reached out and touched your wrist. "You ok?"

Wait...he wasn't vibrating.

You were.

Then you noticed that your heart skipped many beats, then the beats suddenly tripled, and then it all slowed again, pounding harder and faster in your chest than you believed to be possible.

Did your chest hurt? Or were you imagining it?

It felt like the few times you ran the mile back in high school, but you hadn't run.

Had you?

Your legs felt like jelly. Your arms too.

So you must have run...but when?

No wait, you were forgetting something. Your chest, your heart, your lungs. You had to focus on them first, you needed them to live.

You tried to fix it all by taking a great gulp of air in--if you felt like you'd just run the mile, surely catching your breath would fix it--but you found that it didn't fix anything. In fact, you seemed to lose even more control of your body. You floundered, breathing heavily over and over, quicker and quicker to try and get a hold of yourself.

And the panic set in, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before in your life.

Your consciousness became untethered from your body and you sank deep within yourself. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Only instead of a rabbit hole, the you that existed in your mind fell away from your eyes and deeper into your skull then out the back of it and into the so-soft cushions of the couch.

But this wasn't sinking, this wasn't melting. This was being buried alive.

You remembered Eddie’s taunting before, about being afraid of smoking. Why hadn’t you told him that you didn’t want to do this? Why hadn’t you told him you were afraid? You were a stubborn idiot and now you’d die here, buried amongst pilling fabric and lost change and lint and a few cheerios that were stuck between the cushions.

You would die here on Eddie's couch...

"Eddie!" you practically sobbed and reached out for him, remembering suddenly that he was there with you. Why wasn't he doing anything to keep you from sinking? "Help!"

"It's ok hey!" He grabbed your hands now and pulled you back from the void, hooked the tether back onto you and saved you from the depths. "It's ok, breathe. No, not like that. Slowly, deep breaths with me. In and hold it and out. Whoooooo."

You focused on the whooshing sound of the air that escaped his lips and you tried to make the same sound yourself. Over and over, slowly as he guided you.

"That's it," he smiled. "Good girl."

You slowly grounded yourself through Eddie, escaping whatever horrible clutches had just grasped at you. You began to feel better, lighter; more centered within yourself but…nicer?

Had that awful feeling been the high? Or was this?

Maybe everyone got caught by a demon when they smoked and then if they escaped they felt a nice light flutter and instead of a heavy beating heart that threatened to burst out of their chests, they felt...silly. Happy. Bubbly.

Like you did whenever you were around Eddie.

Only now it was better, and it was all getting better as he spoke to you and smiled and wiped at the few tears that had escaped your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. Good girl.

You kept breathing and staring at his lips.

Breathe in.

Lips.

Breathe out.

Eddie's lips.

Good girl.

You thought about earlier...minutes or hours you couldn't tell for sure...about the way Eddie leaned close to you and almost kissed you. All the worry you'd had about not being able to make a move because you were thinking so much you couldn't act. Here you were now, thinking again. When his lips were right there and you could do something about it.

With one last shaky breath, bubbly infatuation flooded your body; you smiled and said one final farewell to your nervous thoughts, and you surged forward. Your hands shook his away and grabbed at his face, as your lips slid clumsily against his.

Your noses bumped and teeth clacked painfully but it didn't quite matter because the sparks that emanated from your joined lips shot through your limbs and made you both feel tingly and pleasant. At least, you assumed they did for Eddie because he let out a sound that was somewhere in between a giggle and a moan.

But he didn't push you away; in fact, his hands clapped over yours and smushed them further into his cheeks.

He wanted you to kiss him. He wanted to kiss you. He...liked you.

It was a euphoric moment of joy and realization, but your need to put your lips on him outweighed that. So you tried again. Gentler this time.

Eddie followed your lead for a little while as you pulled him towards you; one of his hands found your waist as the other arm rounded your shoulders, and he became your anchor to prevent you from being buried by the sofa again. As thanks for his chivalry, you gifted him with soft caresses, quick pecks, and sharp little nips.

Your fingers developed a mind of their own, and seemed to love his cheekbones and getting tangled in his hair, although they couldn't quite decide which they loved more so back and forth they went.

The rest of you, though--mind and body--just basked in the kissing.

You were good at kissing; you liked kissing. And you liked kissing Eddie, more than you ever thought you would. Kissing under the light, buzzy influence of a beer or two was nice, and it might have been the weed or it could have just been Eddie himself, but this was nicer. Floaty and tingly and transcendent.

The music itself had stopped, but Eddie himself continued to provide the soundtrack to the night. Instead of guitars and vocals and pounding drums, it was a symphony of soft hums and sweet sighs.

Eddie, who often pilfered bites and nibbles off your plate and cited that he was a "growing boy," seemed to prove that his hunger was greater than yours the way he bit and nibbled at you too, appetite growing the longer you kissed. The pace you set no longer fed him the way he wanted and he started to feast a little more; that was a side-effect of being high, right? Hunger. Insatiable hunger?

His mouth pulled away from yours and started to explore your jaw, the column of your neck, the junction between your neck and shoulder. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his attention, of his lips and hands as he gave and took, of the floaty feeling that settled comfortably in your limbs now, all the nerves of the day forgotten.

Before you knew it, your own hunger grew as well. You wanted him closer, needed more of him now that you had him.

You let yourself drift back along the pillows until you were laying comfortably and pulled Eddie along with you; one hand still lingered in his hair as the other fisted the collar of his shirt and got him right where you needed him to be.

Of course, you couldn't just take without giving as well, and as he settled onto you, your hips bucked up into him. You both moaned--savoring the proximity and delicious friction that his jeans and your leggings provided--and then giggled together as he collapsed on top of you, unprepared for the sudden surge of delight.

His breath fanned across your neck and jaw as he laughed breathlessly, and your hands caressed his head and shoulders fondly as you mirrored him.

He strained his neck a little to look you in the eye; his grin accentuated all the lines in his face, and for a second he struggled to form words. His mouth opened and closed silently and then he licked his lips to compose himself. The next thing you knew, his hand was coming up and squeezing one of your breasts with an exaggerated "honk" as he fell back against the other one and pressed his mouth to the swell over your shirt.

Back into the throes of unadulterated giggles you both went as he continued to honk and kiss and suck at exposed skin.

One of the highlights of the whole night was when he blew a raspberry against your neck; the feeling of goosebumps that erupted along your body and the spittle that sprayed across your skin would be a sensation you would remember and cherish forever.

"No fair," you whined and shifted against him again, both to protest the fact that you currently couldn't return the favor of all the attention he was giving you. Nevertheless, you treated him to the attention that you could, and you bucked your hips up again, only to be met with the feeling of him grinding down onto you.

Giggles began to mingle with desperate pants as he began to shift against you and settled into the cradle of your thighs; he grew harder and ground and rutted against the covered softness of you, faster and sharper, and your body eagerly responded, wanting to be as close to him as you could. As close as either of you could honestly fathom at this point, feeling too good like this to consider that there was more pleasure to be had if time went on and clothes came off.

Sunday nights together were truly gleeful and hedonistic, and tonight was no different. However, instead of snacks and arguments accentuated by the sounds of light-hearted talk and laughter, it was your writhing bodies and mingled breaths that took center stage; the two of you never stopped, only paused for your lips to smack wetly against one another, for your nails to rake through his hair and scratch against his scalp, and for him to grasp at your hips to pull you closer and closer as he drove you higher and higher.

"Eddie, I'm--" you broke away from him and keened, and he responded with a husky "uh-huh" and pressed his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building between the two of you, as he moaned and your toes curled...

As keys jingled in the lock of the front door of the trailer.

...and suddenly it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you and you froze, all thought of completion forgotten.

Your eyes shot open and you stared into Eddie's panic-filled, pleasure-blown pupils. He shifted sharply and then paused, almost like a glitch, and then he was off you, across to the other side of the couch in the blink of an eye. You watched, dumbstruck, as he panted heavily to control his breathing, and he held his head in shaking hands.

"No, no," he muttered. "Shit. Shit."

You reacted quickly as the door started to squeak open--throwing your legs over the edge of the sofa to sit upright as your hands clumsily fixed your disheveled clothes--and Wayne walked in. You took the extra second as he grumbled at the threshold and fiddled with his keys to look at Eddie, hoping for some kind of...secret conspiratorial smile or...or heated gaze...just something but he refused to look at you.

Suddenly, all of the good feelings that had flooded you since the moment that Eddie had chased your panic away...they vanished. The sweet giggles and shared pleasure were gone; even the love bites you were sure Eddie had left behind stung instead of blissfully buzzed.

And in their place, an acute clarity of what the two of you had just done.

"You wouldn't believe the mess I walked into tonight," Wayne chuckled with disbelief as he finally shut the door.

No kidding Wayne, you thought bitterly.

"Some of the machines were down when I got there and it took a few hours to figure out the problem. Some rusted old part..." On and on he chattered as you spiraled, stuck in your thoughts once again.

You and Eddie, Eddie and you. You and your secret crush...had just...on his couch. You and your best friend, your only friend in town...got high and kissed and canoodled and now he refused to even look at you.

You didn't know if it was the weed again or if it was just you, but you could see stars in the corners of your eyes and you felt lightheaded as the panic settled back in. And it only got worse the longer you sat there and tried to get some kind of sign from Eddie, only to be left with nothing. Such a stark contrast from just moments ago where you were giving and taking and responding to one another so freely.

Giving and taking...was that really what it was? Or did you just...do this to him? Do this to the both of you? Effectively tank your friendship the way you'd worried about since the first time you'd hung out and Eddie had specifically said it wasn't a date?

You abruptly got to your feet and Wayne stopped his chatter and looked at you questioningly.

"I..." you felt your throat closing up with emotion. "I just forgot I have a really important call first thing tomorrow. I...need to go!"

Eddie finally looked at you with wide, shocked eyes.

Were those tears? Oh god...

"I...it was nice to see you Wayne, sorry..." you scrambled to grab your bag from where you'd tossed it by the door and then looked back at both Munsons. Back and forth at Wayne's curious expression...and Eddie's devastated one. "I'm...sorry."

And you bolted out the door, into your car, and back across town to the lonely confines of your apartment, where you would wish for a second chance at Sunday all over again.

Because until tonight, Sundays had always been your favorite days.

Next Part: Leave of Absence

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #store manager verse #Eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson

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yandere-kokeshi · 10 months

Note

Yan! Hobie with a Goth Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior

A/N: I love this troupe. Ty for requesting! Hope you enjoy <33

He was immediately smitten when he first saw you. His eyes followed your form like a bee finding its honey. Honestly, it’s the similarities that drew him to you.

You were attractive - your dramatic and heavy makeup, full black but catchy clothes that don’t go with ‘the labels’, and piercings that were always changed; never sticking to one single move.

With makeup, he loves watching you do your eyeliner and designs that may take forever to do. He always smiles behind you in the mirror, do which, he always makes sure to kiss you - even if you’re wearing lipstick. He secretly hopes it’ll stay on him.

If you’ve got piercings, he’s constantly dying to mess with them. Hobie often buys you a bunch of sets, especially things that may or may not offend people (ex. Sigils, curse words, teeth related, etc).

To no surprise, likely Hobie has a piercing license, which means he’s more than up to give you more piercings if you’d like. He’s incredibly gentle, really fast, and always concentrated to make sure everything goes correctly.

He shares a playlist of both of your favorite artists and music, often making you listen to it whenever he comes over to spend time with you.

Your style is really hot to him. Your black studded boots? He’s gonna make some that are similar to yours. Hoodies that have patched holes and meshed sleeves? You can bet Hobie is sewing it up and decorating your clothes before you get home from the store. Have fishnet leggings? He’s tearing custom holes in them, making sure they feel comfortable to your liking.

Definitely steals your hoodies and band t-shirts constantly, always allowing you to steal his too. Plus, Hobie lets you wear his jacket - something that’s pretty important to him.

Like wearing thick and heavy collars? You can bet he will buy so much more; going out of his way to find one that he knows you’ll love. And maybe, Hobie will custom a collar that has his name on it. Of course, he’ll let you borrow his if you want.

Both of you have nights where he will do your makeup for you - letting you rest on the bed as he sits on your lap, looking down at you as he carefully applies a mystery of dark makeup. He lets you do the same thing to him, absolutely letting you go crazy and not letting you back.

You can bet your ass Hobie will ask if he can paint your fingernails black. Of course, you can’t deny him with his huge smirk and adorable dog eyes.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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dixonsdolls · 9 months

Text

DARYL DIXON NSFW HEADCANONS

enjoy this <3 just a little something until i can get the next chapter of timeless out and a oneshot! hopefully stuff will be out this week but please bare with me, life has been hectic <3 it’s definitely all over the place but anyways ily all so much and thank you so much for 300 followers!

warnings: MDNI (18+ CONTENT) sexual content

— ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ a quick summary: daryl dixon fucks

➳❥ to start, he loves making out. like straight up filth, no pretenses or anything. he likes it dirty and if he can get you off like that, he will. his favorite thing is to have you on his lap, a whimpery little mess, lips slick with his spit, with his hands gripping your hips and forcing you to hump him.

➳❥ there’s not a lot of time to be intimate and sometimes he just gets so worked up, even in the most inconvenient situations, that he’ll steal you away and get you off. whether it’s on a run and he’s fingers deep inside your cunt, swallowing your sweet noises or eating you out against the bathroom counter at one of alexandria’s parties, he’s always gonna have his way with you.

➳❥ obviously, it being the end of the world means that anyone can lose anyone at any given moment. that being said, his favorite position is missionary. he loves seeing your face and he wants to memorize every single expression, every little freckle and moan, so he can store it away for safe keeping.

➳❥ if he gets separated from you on a run, whether that be from enemies or walkers, he’ll fight like hell to find you and when he does, he fucks your brains out, no matter where you are. he gets so possessive and the need to be close to you consumes him until he’s sinking inside you.

➳❥ if you start acting bratty on a run and stop listening to his suggestions, he gets pissed, especially if it ends up with you almost dying from stubbornness. right when you get home, he lets you have it. he spanks you because why would you put yourself in danger? then, once you’re all teary eyed and flushed in the face, he fucks you silly. he doesn’t let you come, though. at least, not until he’s sure you’ve learned your lesson and he’s fucked the brattiness out of you, grunting out ‘done bein’ such a fuckin’ brat, sunshine?’

➳❥ don’t get it twisted, though. while he can be dominant, he loves it when you take charge. he loses his shit when you ride him because you’ll hold his hands down and even though you both know he could overthrow you, he lets it happen because it makes him come that much faster.

➳❥ one of his favorite things is rough sex, but he also loves when it’s slower, more passionate. sometimes he needs to show you how much he loves you with not only his words, but slow, deep thrusts and his fingers against your clit.

➳❥ he loves blow jobs. it’s like the minute your mouth gets on him, he blacks out. when you deepthroat him, that’s when he’s truly vocal. he’ll grab your hair and let out animalistic grunts as he starts to fuck your face. it’s not often you get to give him one, but when it happens, he makes sure to bask in it.

➳❥ he loves marking, too. whether that be you wearing his clothes and the bracelet he made you or leaving your neck surface covered in purple bruises and come on your face and tits, he fuckin’ loves it. even though it’s pretty clear you’re his and he’s yours, some assholes still hit on you. so, when you show up for a shift with a neck full of hickies and some of the dickheads that flirted with you see it, it makes something feral go off inside him.

☾ ﾟ｡⋆ — now for some mechanic!daryl <3

❥ mechanic!daryl who’s grumpy and hates the world until it comes to you. even if it’s still the world before, he’s not very good at talking about his feelings, so he shows you instead.

❥ he treats you like a princess in public, but once you’re alone, he treats you like a fuckin’ slut.

❥ it’s like the minute you’re away from prying eyes, he has to fuck you. he has to get you off and whining his name or else he’ll burst from how he feels about you.

❥ when you first got together, he’d always be covered in grease and sweat from a long day at the garage. he assumed you’d be repulsed but learned very quickly it was the oppposite. him being dirty made you a whiny, loud mess and at the sight of your wet cunt taking him in with ease, moans pouring from your swollen lips, he decided then and there to keep it up. and if he purposely got messy at work, then no one had to know.

❥ his favorite position is doggy, hands down. he loves the way he can see your ass jiggle each time he enters you, loves the way your pussy swallows him up from the angle. he loves fucking you from behind too because then he wraps your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulls. he pulls your hair so hard he uses it to fuck you back into his thrusts.

❥ creampies are an absolute must for him. the idea of you being filled to the brim with him makes shivers run down his spine. a more animalistic part of him likes the idea of you walking around town with panties soaked with him. he loves to just fuck you full until he’s spilling out of you and dripping down your thighs.

❥ one of his favorite things to do is to finger your, no matter where you are and who’s around. he has no shame in saying he’ll steal you away from your friends and shove his fingers inside your cunt until it’s all weepy and convulsing around him. the wet sounds of your pussy make him lose it, so much so he’ll definitely stuff your mouth with his dick next.

❥ he’ll fuck you on his bike, 100%. the sight of you on the motorcycle already has him hard in his pants, so when he has you straddling him and his dick is inside you, with the engine still on, and the noises you make unlike anything he’s heard before, he makes it a regular thing.

❥ he loses it when you make out, especially if it’s a messy one. the idea of your lips being swollen and wet with his spit makes him feral, and if he can, he’ll absolutely spit in your mouth.

❥ above all, though, whether it’s twdverse daryl or not, he’ll fuck your brains out.

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #norman reedus #the walking dead #daryl x reader

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guess-my-next-obsession · 8 months

Text

In The Cold, Cold Night: Chapter One

pairing: cowboy/frontier!joel miller x oc (Dorothea) / unrequited tommy miller

rating: M (talks of death, bordellos, gender constructs, other wild west things, tommy is a cocky flirt)

wc: 7.2k

series masterlist | playlist

It was a hot and dry spring in Texas, the corn fields out in front of the Mackey family farmhouse dying underneath the brutal and unforgiving sun. John Mackey, the patriarch of his small, humble family, tried his best to conceal his worry over the season’s meager harvest, but his wife, Jessa, and his eldest child, Dorothea, or Dottie as her family called her, had a unique ability to see right through his hardened exterior to the vulnerable, frightened man inside.

Although she was a grown woman, her twenty-fourth birthday passing just seven months prior, Dorothea chose not to venture out from her parent’s watch like all the other girls in their small town had done years before. She liked the predictability of home—the sound of her father’s work boots hitting the hardwood after a long day in the field, the smell of her mother’s cooking, the loud chatter of her five younger brothers as they ran around the house and farm like they were wild animals. Though a part of her did crave more, it was a small enough part that she could ignore, fixing her brown eyes instead on taking care of the things she already had.

“Daddy!” James, the youngest of the clan at only six years, came hurtling into the kitchen as his father sat at the dinner table sipping on a fresh cup of black coffee, Jessa Mackey and Dorothea standing at the sink scrubbing this morning’s dishes. “Look what the lady at the store gave me and Ed.”

“Let me see what’cha got,” the gruff man said, lowering his cup and newspaper to the tabletop as he fixed his attention on his son.

James wore a wide, boyish grin as he reached into the front pocket of his dirty, denim overalls and pulled out a burlap sack, his tiny fingers pulling the drawing string loose so that he could dump out the contents on top of his father’s morning news.

“Well, what’s all this, now?” John said, catching a few of the tiny glass spheres as they began to roll off the uneven table.

“Marbles,” he said, full of wonder and excitement. “She even taught me how to play with ‘em.”

“Can you teach me?” he asked, setting the handful of marbles into the little boy’s hand.

“I forgot,” he smiled bashfully. “But Eddie—“

“I didn’t ask Eddie, now did I?” John smiled back. “Come on, figure it out. You learned once, you can remember.”

“Oh, will you leave him be,” Jessa scolded lightly, chuckling at her husband’s insistence as she walked over, drying her hands on a cloth before throwing it over her shoulder. “Where’s your brother?”

“Outside playin’ with Sarah,” James said, looking up at his mother with round eyes as she carded her fingers through his dust-covered brown hair.

“Who’s Sarah?” Dorothea asked as she dried her hands off on her apron, her brows stitching together.

“She’s new ‘round here,” her youngest brother replied. “She ain’t got any friends—“

“Doesn’t have,” John corrected, lifting his newspaper back up.

“How old is she?” Jessa asked.

“My age,” the boy said, a big toothy smile on his face. “May I go play with ‘em, mama?”

“Yeah, go on,” Jessa smiled and watched as her son ran out of the room with his bag of marbles in hand, the wicker screen door slamming against the wooden frame of the old home as he bolted through it. “I gotta talk to Maggie about givin’ him new toys every time I send ‘em over.”

“She likes it,” Dorothea interjected. “Can’t have babies of her own, it only makes sense she spoils everyone else’s.”

“Don’t matter,” Jessa took a seat at the table to rest her aching feet. “We don’t need another tab.”

John’s eyes lifted to meet his wife as if he were daring her to continue.

“If that girl’s new, maybe I should bake a pie and take it over to her mama and daddy,” Dorothea suggested, sensing the building tension. “We got some blueberries that’ll turn any day now.”

“Sure, honey, go on,” John said, looking back to his paper.

“Don’t use more than y’have to, Dot,” Jessa ordered. “I need flour to make biscuits for supper.”

“I’ll only use what I need, ma,” Dorothea promised with a saintly smile, flashing her emerald green eyes at her mother before heading into the pantry to start out on her baking.

“Daddy!” Sarah’s squeal could be heard from a mile away, causing her father, Joel, to turn his head in the direction of the dirt road, spotting his daughter riding on the handlebars of of a brand new, candy red-painted bicycle, his younger brother pedaling towards the opened gate of their farm. “Look what Uncle Tommy got!”

Joel shook his head at the needless expense as he watched them ride up to where he stood near the porch, his white cotton shirt soaked down his spine from spending the better half of the afternoon fixing the old wooden steps.

“You ain’t got nothin’ better to spend your money on?” Joel asked as they came to a skid in front of him, Sarah hopping off the handlebars and skipping up to her father’s side to hug his hip, his hand smoothing her wild curls out of her face. “Where you been all day, missy? Out causin’ trouble?”

“I made friends with some boys down the road,” she replied, looking up at her father as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Boys, huh?” he asked, his tone playful. “You ain’t old enough to be hangin’ around any boys.”

“But daddy, they’re sweet,” she insisted, rounding her hazel eyes at him and poking out her bottom lip for good measure. Joel smiled and nodded, rubbing his hand across her shoulders.

“I’m just kiddin’, baby girl,” he assured. “What did y’all get up to?”

“We played cowboys on their farm,” she beamed. “I got to be the sheriff.”

“You know me and your daddy used to be cowboys?” Tommy said, leaning against the post of the porch.

“Well, I would’a caught you,” she said, tilting her chin up in confidence.

“Alright, sheriff, why don’t you go inside and wash off all this dirt before supper?” Joel ordered, patting her back as she begrudgingly obeyed her. “Cheer up, I’m makin’ your favorite.”

“Chicken soup?” she squealed again.

“You got it,” he nodded before waving at her to head into the house like he’d asked.

“If you’re gonna yell, yell,” Tommy sighed, taking a seat on the second step.

“I ain’t gonna yell,” Joel sat down with him. “But you can’t be goin’ around town showin’ off and spendin’ like that. We don’t need people pryin’ into our business and gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“It ain’t a crime to be a bounty hunter,” Tommy argued.

“Not when you’re workin’ for the law, but you and I both know we were about as far from the law as we could get,” Joel said. “Just don’t want people treatin’ Sarah bad because of what we did to make ends meet. That’s why we had to leave the last place, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy nodded. “I just saw it and thought it would make droppin’ Sarah off at the schoolhouse easier on me, s’all.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna make you take it back,” Joel said, offering a soft smile, bumping his brother’s shoulder with his own. “Just…talk to me before you go out and buy somethin’ that pretty next time, alright? I might want one for myself.”

“Well, speaking’ of pretty,” Tommy nudged his chin forward in the direction of the gate, Joel’s eyes following his eyeline until he saw what he was so fixed on. Tan, freckled skin, a head of chocolate brown waves thrown up messily, a pair of bright green eyes and an equally bright smile heading up the dirt path to the porch.

“She here for you?” Joel whispered to his brother.

“I certainly hope so,” Tommy replied with a smile.

“Hi, y’all, sorry to interrupt,” the unfamiliar face greeted them as she reached the bottom of the steps, both men staring at her with a mixture of confusion and awe. “I’m Dorothea. My little brothers were playin’ with your sister earlier, and I thought I’d bring a pie over to welcome y’all to the town.”

“Sister?” Tommy asked, fixing a charming smile onto his face. “No sister here, but we’ll be glad to take that pie off your hands.”

“Oh,” she furrowed her brows in confusion. “I’m sorry, I guess I must’a—“

“You talkin’ about Sarah?” Joel spoke up, drawing her eyes to meet his.

“Yeah, I think that’s what her name was.”

“That’s my daughter,” he smiled.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry, I thought—you look young, so I just thought—“

“No need to apologize,” he assured, standing up and unintentionally towering over her as he walked down the steps. “I had her young; I’m used to it by now.”

Dorothea smiled softly and nodded, her eyes lowering to the pie in her hands rather than at his dark, round eyes.

“Well, this is for y’all, then,” she said, holding the pie out for him to take.

“Thank you,” he accepted it and lifted the cloth covering the top, bringing the pie close to his nose. “Smells great.”

“It’s a family recipe,” she said. “I can give it to your wife if she’s around?”

“Oh—no,” Joel tensed, his smile faltering. “She, uh, she passed givin’ birth to Sarah.”

“Oh,” Dorothea’s eyes turned soft and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assured, flickering his eyes over to his brother who remained watching their new friend with eager eyes. “We’re about to have supper, you could join us? Let us repay you for the pie?”

“Oh, I wish I could, but my mama’s makin’ biscuits and gravy tonight and she’d throw a fit if I stayed out past dark,” Dorothea said, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Well, you’re always welcome,” Joel shrugged. “Your brothers, too. I’m sure Sarah would love it if her new friends stopped by.”

“I’ll let ‘em know,” she smiled. “Well, I should be goin’.”

“You need a ride?” Tommy asked, standing up.

“Oh, no,” she giggled. “I like the walk, gives me a little time away from all the noise.”

“Alright,” Tommy smiled. “You said your name was Dorothy?”

“Dorothea,” Joel corrected.

“That’s right,” she chuckled. “And y’all are?”

“I’m Tommy, he’s Joel,” Tommy said.

“Well, Tommy, Joel,” she smiled as she turned her eyes from Tommy to meet Joel’s again. “It was nice meetin’ y’all. Enjoy that pie.”

“I’m sure we will,” Joel smiled. “Get home safe, now.”

“Everybody knows not to mess with me,” she smirked as she began backing her way towards the gate.

“That so?�� he smirked.

“Yep,” she giggled. “Bye now!”

“Bye,” Tommy called, waving at her as she turned around and started down the road in the direction she came. “What a looker.”

“She wasn’t lookin’ at you,” Joel teased.

“What, you think she was lookin’ at you?”

“No,” he replied defensively as he started up the steps. to head into the house, Tommy trailing closely behind.

“You got a crush, old man?”

“Twenty-eight ain’t old,” Joel argued, setting the pie down on the dinner table.

“Older than me,” Tommy quipped. “Older than her.”

“Alright, well since you’re so young and spry, why don’t you go out back and fetch us some milk for supper, charmer?” Joel teased, grabbing the cloth from the pie and swatting it at his younger brother.

It was Sunday afternoon, Joel and Tommy finished with the week’s chores and labor, Sarah skipping down the road with them as they made their way to town to look around at the shops and stands.

Joel, as always, kept his pistol tucked into the holster on his belt, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any potential trouble while desperately hoping none found him.

Joel had lived a lot of life in his twenty-eight years. He started out as a ranch hand to his father, Tommy just old enough to form a sentence while his older brother was expected to go out and tend to the horse, sheep, and cows at five in the morning. School wasn’t a priority to his parents, but learning to take care of the ranch was, to them, as essential to living as breathing.

Joel was fifteen when his father passed from typhoid fever, his mother following shortly after getting caught in the middle of a shoot out in town, leaving him to not only take care of the ranch, but his eleven year old brother as well.

Two years later, Joel and Tommy got swept up in the bounty hunting lifestyle after seeing how much the sheriff was offering for an outlaw on a wanted poster. They bid their ranch goodbye, packed up what little they had, and rode off into the desert to start anew, not knowing a single thing about what was to come.

Though their endeavors started out lawful, a then-seventeen year old Tommy quickly grew bored of their meager earnings and convinced Joel to abandon the lawful bounty hunting in favor of working with outlaws, the two of them hunting out sheriffs and their own people instead.

This was how Joel met Sarah’s mother at the young age of twenty-one. She was ten years older than him, working in a bordello Tommy insisted on staying at for the night during one of their hunts. Joel was hesitant at first, but quickly found his footing once he spotted her across the room. She had dark skin, rich, brown eyes, and a figure like he’d never seen before. He was already hooked then, but once their visits grew more frequent, he realized it was more than just a drunken lust he felt for the woman. He loved her. And when she fell pregnant with his child, Joel took her down to the town church and married her before riding off again to go on his next hunt. He only saw her two more times before Sarah came, and then she was gone.

Joel tried to go back to his old life, but found it difficult to do what he needed to do with a baby in tow. The boys settled down in Utah for a while, but Tommy’s antics at the local saloon had them packing up and heading west to California. Tommy had some luck there panning for gold, but just as quickly as the last time, he got into a brawl and the three of them were forced back on the road. It went like this for a while, up until just a few months ago when they were talked out of moving out of their old family ranch by a wealthy man looking to buy it for a handsome sum, the money too appealing for Joel to decline.

That’s how they ended up here in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas.

Joel liked it here. It was quiet, there wasn’t any trouble, and everyone seemed to have an understanding that this place was for families, somewhere safe to keep your children in the midst of all this shooting and debauchery. Joel wanted to stay here, but there was a nagging voice every time he looked over at his reckless younger brother that told him it was only a matter of time before they’d have to pack it all up again and run off. He hoped this time, Tommy would learn his lesson.

“Daddy, can I go look at the flowers?” Sarah chimed as they reached the booming Main Street, her little finger pointing at a flower cart.

“Yeah, but don’t go runnin’ off too far,” he said, keeping a watchful eye on her as she skipped towards the daisies.

“I’m gonna go see about that wheelbarrow,” Tommy said, nudging his head in the direction of an old man’s roadside stand of junk.

“Anything that keeps you outta the saloon,” Joel said, his eyes still locked on his daughter as she chatted the ear off of the older woman selling flowers.

“Robert, you better stay out of there!”

Joel’s attention was turned in the direction of a faintly familiar voice calling down the street. There he spotted Dorothea, surrounded by five boys ranging from Sarah’s age to somewhere around her own. The eldest looking boy, Robert he assumed, waved her off as he continued ahead of them into the saloon and bordello, leaving her fuming as she tried to corral the three youngest to follow her while the second oldest followed in his brother’s footsteps.

“Dottie, look! It’s Sarah!” the youngest squealed, his finger pointing down the road at Sarah who was getting a flower pinned in her curls. “Can I go say hi?”

“Yeah, just stay where I can see ya,” she said, watching as all three boys ran off in Sarah’s direction.

Joel cleared his throat as he felt obligated to go over and say hello, but Dorothea spotted him first and gave him a polite nod from down the road before turning to head into the general store. A strange pang of disappointment hit him in the chest at her lack of interaction, but he quickly reminded himself that he didn’t want the responsibility of a friend. He had enough on his plate with his ranch, his daughter, and his brother.

“Daddy,” Sarah came strolling back over hand in hand with Dorothea’s youngest brother, both of them smiling cheekily. “This is my boyfriend, James.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Joel gave the boy a playful once over and shook his head in feigned disapproval. “How about a boy friend?”

“Daddy,” she pouted and fixed a stern look on her face that looked every bit her mother.

“Alright, James, but I expect you to respect my daughter,” he said, playfully wagging his finger in the little boy’s face and poking his nose, earning a giggle.

“Yes, sir,” James smiled. “I think Sarah’s the love of my life.”

“Love of your life?” Joel asked, resting a hand on his hip. “You ain’t lived much life, son.”

“Six years of it,” he countered.

“Six years a long time to you?” Joel continued with a smile.

“Yeah. It’s my entire life,” the boy quipped, pulling a laugh out of Joel.

“I guess you’re right,” Joel chuckled. “Long as you treat her right, we ain’t gonna have a problem.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those your brothers?” Joel nudged his chin in the direction of the two slightly older boys, one of them chasing the other with a flower he’d plucked from the lady’s cart.

“Yes, sir,” James nodded. “Ed and Bo.”

“And the other two?”

“Robert and Paul,” James said. “But they’re mean.”

“Yeah? They mean to you?” James nodded. Joel smiled and squatted down to be eye level with him. “Let me ask ya somethin’. One day, you’re gonna be big enough to be mean right back to ‘em,” James nodded. “That somethin’ you’re looking forward to?”

“No,” James shook his head.

“No? Why not?”

“I don’t like bein’ mean,” James said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Good answer,” Joel smiled. “I don’t want my daughter with somebody mean.”

“Boys! Come help me with these groceries!” Dorothea called from the shop, her eyes flickering to Joel as he stood up and turned to look at her. “They ain’t botherin’ y’all, are they?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat at her.

“Lord almighty, she’s a fine lookin’ woman,” Tommy appeared next to Joel, earning a stern glare from his older brother.

“She’s off limits,” James said, his own face scrunching up. “My daddy said so.”

“Well, your daddy hasn’t met me yet,” Tommy smiled. “She got a boyfriend?”

“No,” James replied defensively. “And she don’t want one neither.”

“What about a friend?” Tommy persisted.

“I’m her friend,” he said, crossing his little arms over his chest.

“Did you get the wheelbarrow?” Joel asked, desperate to stop his brother’s back and forth.

“Yep,” Tommy nodded.

“Good, now go on and use it. We need fire wood,” Joel said, tipping his chin towards the hardware store. Tommy sighed and did as his brother commanded while Joel urged both Sarah and James off towards the general store to pick up their weekly groceries.

“Daddy, can we get some blueberries to make another pie?” Sarah asked, pointing ahead at a pint of blueberries sitting on the table in the middle of the store along with the rest of this week’s harvest.

“I didn’t make the pie, baby,” he said. “Don’t know what else we’ll need.”

“Y’all talkin’ about my pie?” Dorothea asked, offering a smile to Sarah as she walked over holding a basket of fruit in her hand while her younger brothers carried the rest of the haul.

“You made it?” Sarah asked with delight.

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Dorothea nodded. “You want the recipe?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah smiled. “I’ll make my daddy teach me.”

“Is your daddy good at bakin’?” Dorothea chuckled, glancing over at Joel who watched her carefully.

“No,” Sarah frowned.

“No, he doesn’t look the part,” she smirked at him, watching as a subtle blush grew on his cheeks. “Well, maybe I could come and teach you since your daddy ain’t so good.”

“Daddy, can she?” Sarah asked, tugging on her fathers arm.

Joel looked down at his wide eyed daughter and felt affection bloom in his chest for her, immediately caving in to her request. “Sure, baby girl.”

“Alright, you want me to show you what you need?” Dorothea spoke to Joel, bringing his eyes back to hers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel nodded, gesturing at her to lead the way.

“Gonna need flour, y’all got that at home?” Joel nodded. “Butter?” Another nod. “How ‘bout milk?”

“We got our own cows,” he said.

“Looks like y’all ain’t gonna need much, then,” she smiled. “All’s left is some blueberries, a lemon, some sugar, and…I think that’s it.”

“You think?” Joel teased, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I know,” she corrected herself with a smirk. “I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon, if that’s alright by y’all.”

“Sounds alright with me,” Joel smiled. “I’ll make sure Tommy ain’t around to bother ya.”

“Oh, you ain’t gotta worry about him. I think he’s kinda sweet…in his own special way,” she shrugged. Joel lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the jealousy that sparked inside him at the thought of Tommy and her together.

As if on cue, Tommy walked in, his eyes scanning the room until he spotted the three of them.

“Well if it ain’t Miss Dorothy,” he grinned.

“Dorothea,” James corrected from the counter as he scooped up the final sack of groceries.

“My apologies,” Tommy smirked. “Guess I’ll have to spend more time around ya. Get the name to stick.”

“Alright,” Joel rolled his eyes and patted Sarah on the shoulder, guiding her towards the counter to pay for their hail. “We’ll see ya tomorrow, then, Dorothea. Bring that James with ya if ya want. Word is him and Sarah are in love. I’d hate to come between that.”

Dorothea giggled and nodded. “That’d be a crime, now, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re comin’ by tomorrow?” Tommy asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, sir,” Dorothea nodded. “Showin’ your niece how to make my famous blueberry pie.”

“Got room for one more student?” he asked. “I’ve been meanin’ to learn how t’ bake.”

“Oh, have you now?” she giggled. “I suppose you can join us, long as you pay attention.”

“I’m gonna be payin’ attention, alright,” he smiled. “Have a good day, now, Dorothy.”

“Dorothe—“ She stopped herself from correcting him again once she realized he was now doing it on purpose, her head shaking as she smiled at him. “How ‘bout you just call me “Miss” from now on? Can’t get that wrong, can ya?”

“Ain’t no fun in that,” he smiled. “I’ll get it one ‘a these days.”

“I’m sure you will,” she rolled her eyes before looking to Joel. “See ya, Joel.”

Joel tipped his hat at her and watched her walk off back down the long road headed towards her ranch, her horde of brothers following closely behind.

“You gotta mess with her?” Joel asked Tommy as he pulled out a few notes and handed it to the clerk.

“Least she’s a nice woman,” Tommy reasoned. “Could be goin’ after one of my women at the bordello like you—“

“Watch it,” Joel warned seriously, no trace of amusement in his eyes as they flickered to an oblivious Sarah. “That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble, Tommy. One ‘a these days someone’s gonna come along and do somethin’ about it.”

“They already tried,” Tommy chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.”

Joel only shook his head as he led the three of them out of the store, Tommy’s hands busied by the wheelbarrow hauling lumber while Joel carried their bag of groceries and Sarah worked on the lollipop the cashier handed over to her.

“Dot, come down and help your mama with hangin’ clothes!” Dorothea’s mother, Jessa, called up the staircase of their quaint farmhouse, interrupting her journaling.

“Yes, mama!” she called back, closing her books before making her way downstairs to tug her boots on before entering the mid-morning heat. She joined her mother out in front of the lawn as she sat scrubbing the dirty laundry on her washing board, a few sheets already hung up on the line.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, wiping her brow. “It’s hot out today.”

“It’s been hot out every day,” Dorothea commented. “How’re the crops lookin’?”

“Your daddy don’t bother tellin’ me anymore,” she said. “Half of me wonders if we wouldn’t be better off packin’ up and movin’ west. I hear there’s still plenty gold.”

“Who ya gonna get to mine for it? Daddy’s back can’t take it, and your two eldest don’t seem to care ‘bout nothin’ except goin’ to the saloon.”

“Don’t you wish we had that luxury?” Jessa said with a smirk. “I know I’d like to be able to run off whenever I want and drink the night away.”

“I don’t care much for the drinkin’, but I would like to know what it feels like to do whatever I want whenever I wanna do it,” Dorothea replied. “Instead we gotta ask permission anytime we wanna leave the house. Makes ya sad if you think about it too much.”

“I’ll tell you somethin’,” Jessa locked eyes with her daughter. “You ever feel like sneakin’ off for a night—maybe go see a pretty boy—you can count on me t’keep your secret. Long as ya tell me, I’ll watch out for ya.”

“You gonna lie to daddy for me?” Dorothea giggled.

“Lord knows I’ve done worse things.”

Dorothea quirked an eyebrow at her mother, smirking in interest.

Jessa ignored her daughter’s curiosity. “So this mean there’s a boy?”

“No,” Dorothea shook her head. “Not yet, at least.”

“Come on, now,” Jessa smiled.

“James’ new friend, Sarah, has an uncle,” she shrugged. “He seems interested.”

“But you ain’t?”

“I don’t know, mama,” she blushed. “He’s fine and all, but…he ain’t really what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Why’s that?”

“He talks too much,” Dorothea replied, earning a hearty laugh from her mother.

“You’re just like me, ain’t ya?”

“Sarah’s dad, however—“

“Dad? How old is he?” Jessa furrowed his brows.

“He doesn’t look much older than me,” she replied. “But he’s quieter. Doesn’t talk unless he has to. And he was sweet with James,” she said. “Thought it was cute.”

“But he ain’t interested in you like the brother is?” Jessa asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said, grabbing the last piece of wet clothing from her mother’s hands and wringing it out before hanging it on the line. “Either way, I don’t foresee any sneakin’ out in my future.”

“A little sneakin’ out would do you some good,” Jessa argued. “You’re too well behaved for your own good.”

“Someone’s gotta be,” she smiled and nudged her head in the direction of the house. “Alright, I gotta go change.”

“Where you off to?”

“Helpin’ Sarah make a pie,” she said.

“Mmhm,” Jessa smirked. “Well tell the uncle and the daddy I said hello.”

“Sure, mama,” she smiled back knowingly before skipping off to the house.

“There she is,” Tommy chimed as Dorothea walked up the steps of the porch, a sweet tea in his hand as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Where’s my student?” Dorothea smirked, tilting her head at him.

“Right here,” he said, gesturing at himself. “Ready to learn.”

“I meant my promisin’ student,” she countered, bringing a grin to his face.

“She’s out back with her daddy,” he said, tipping his head back towards the house. “But we could get started without her.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” she chuckled. “I’m gonna go find her.”

“I’ll be right here,” he drawled, watching her as she walked down the steps and rounded the corner of the house.

Out back, she was met with the sight of Sarah filling the pigs trough full of scraps while her father brushed the mane of a chestnut horse, his white shirt pulling taut across the breadth of his shoulders.

“Hey, y’all,” she announced herself, drawing both pairs of eyes to hers.

“Dorothea!” Sarah chimed, abandoning her work at the pig pen to come skipping over. “Time for pie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she smiled, her eyes trailing from the little girl in front of her to her much larger father as he walked over, his blue jeans clinging to his legs as if they were painted on.

“Miss Dorothea,” he tipped his hat at her. “You come to take this trouble maker off my hands?”

“You causin’ trouble?” Dorothea asked, looking back to the six year old.

“Daddy’s lyin,” she grinned.

“So I got a troublemaker and a liar on my hands,” Dorothea smiled, looking back to Joel. “Ya gonna stay out here, or ya gonna join us inside?”

“Ain’t gonna be much help, I’m afraid,” he smiled.

“You can be our taste-tester,” she shrugged. “And maybe you can keep that brother of yours on a leash. He seems particularly determined today.”

“I apologize for his forwardness,” Joel spoke sincerely. “He thinks he’s smooth ‘cause every woman he’s ever talked to has been eager. He don’t realize it’s ‘cause he paid ‘em to be.”

Dorothea laughed, her brows lifting in shock at the racy nature of his joke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing himself. “Forget I’m talkin’ to a lady.”

“Am I that homely?” she teased. “Maybe I’ll wear my best dress next time. Get Tommy to remember my name and you to remember you’re talkin’ to a woman.”

“Yeah, daddy,” Sarah scolded. “Where’s your manners?”

“I must’a lost ‘em,” he joked.

“Well, me and Dottie’ll help you find ‘em,” she sassed, grabbing Dorothea’s hand and dragging her along back to the house, Joel smiling to himself as he followed them.

“So, cows, a horse, pigs…looks like you’ve got yourself a ranch,” she said, looking behind her as Sarah continued tugging her along.

“Yep,” he agreed.

“You don’t talk much, do ya?”

“Try not to,” he said.

“Any reason?”

“Find people like me a little better when I keep my mouth shut,” he replied, earning another laugh.

“Someone must’a trained you right,” she joked. “Tommy on the other hand—“

“Y’all talkin’ ‘bout me?” Tommy spoke from the porch as the three of them ascended the steps. “Good things, I hope.”

“Hope is a dangerous thing,” Dorothea quipped, earning a chuckle from Joel, the sound drawing her eyes away from Tommy and over to him.

“I don’t get it,” Tommy said, smiling even though his brows were drawn together.

“Nevermind, let’s just get workin’,” Dorothea said, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“He ain’t too clever,” Joel leaned over Dorothea’s shoulder as they filtered inside, whispering to her, and she would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so caught off guard by his proximity.

“You know anythin’ ‘bout makin’ a carrot cake? My mama used to make the best, and I haven’t found anythin’ quite as good since,” Tommy called from the kitchen as Dorothea remained frozen in the entryway, her eyes watching Joel as he squeezed past her to join his brother and daughter inside the small kitchen. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dorothea cleared her head and composed herself as she walked in to join them. “Carrot cake, ya said? I don’t think I’ve ever made one.”

“Well, you had to have a flaw,” Tommy drawled.

“I’ve got a few,” she countered.

“Like what?”

“I’m very particular,” she replied.

“‘Bout what?”

“I like the quiet,” she said, smirking at him. “And I get real bossy.”

“I can shut up,” he said. “And I can follow orders.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Joel groaned, sitting down at their round dinner table.

“Alright, then, if you’re so good at shuttin’ up and followin’ orders, how ‘bout you go sit down and stay quiet while me and Sarah get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy grinned, walking over to the table by the window to sit with his brother while Dorothea and Sarah got to work. “She likes me.”

“She hates you,” Joel corrected.

“What d’you know about women, huh? When’s the last time you talked to somethin’ as pretty as that?”

“Just a few minutes ago in the yard,” he said, lifting an eyebrow to signal his victory.

“You think she likes talkin’ to you anymore than me?” Tommy asked with a smug smile. “I can’t imagine how crazy someone’d have to be to find you interestin’. All you do is take care ‘a the ranch and complain.”

“I didn’t say she liked talkin’ t’me,” Joel shrugged. “Just that we talked.”

“Yeah, well, leave the talkin’ to me,” Tommy said. “I’ll have me a wife come winter, you’ll see.”

“She ain’t gonna marry you,” Joel chuckled.

“Why not?”

“You ain’t committed to nothin’ but causin’ trouble,” he said. “No amount ‘a pretty’s gonna change ya that quick.”

“Well,” Dorothea smiled across the table at Joel as he hauled a bite of her and Sarah’s creation into his mouth, Tommy long gone and out at the saloon while Sarah laid in the living room fast asleep from two thick slices of pie. “Any good?”

“Ya know it’s good,” he said, flickering his eyes at her before dropping them back to his plate.

“Is it always like pullin’ teeth with you?” Joel furrowed his brows as he looked at her again. “Givin’ a sincere compliment?”

“It was sincere,” he said.

“Guess I’m expectin’ somethin’ more like Tommy’s reaction.”

“What, fallin’ to my knees?” he joked, cracking a half smirk. “My knees are busted. I’ll have to praise you from my seat.”

“You and him are so different,” she commented, watching him as he ate. “He’s…wild. Too wild. Reminds me of my two brothers.”

“The ones who went into that…establishment?” he asked, wiping his mouth on a scrap of cloth he’d fashioned into a napkin.

“Yeah, them two,” she nodded. “You ever…been to one ‘em?”

Joel froze a bit, his hand pausing as he lifted a glass of milk to his mouth for a sip. “You askin’ me—“

“I just wanna know what they’re like,” she shrugged. “What they do.”

“You’re better off not knowin’.”

“Well, the men always seem to leave happy,” she said.

“They sure do,” he blushed and brought his cup the rest of the way to his lips, taking a swig before setting it down. “But I ain’t completely sure if that’s somethin’ you need’a know about.”

“Why is it that you boys get’a have all this fun and us girls are supposed to stay home and bake pies, sit and wonder what y’all are doin? What if I wanted to go into a bordello?”

“I ain’t sure it’s they’d know what t’do with ya,” he chuckled.

“Is it—are they…makin’ love?” she whispered the last line, causing Joel to choke on his bite, his fist pounding against his chest to clear it.

“I—“ He shook his head, lost for what to say. “I don’t know that I’d call it that.”

“But they are…sleepin’ together?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But they ain’t doin’ no sleepin’.”

“And that’s where Tommy ran off to?”

Joel hesitated for a moment but nodded.

“Well, then I know for certain I don’t want him,” she said, looking at her plate.

“You don’t like…those kinda men?” he asked, recalling his own past.

“I don’t like men who get around,” she clarified. “If a man wants me, I better be the only one. But so far, I haven’t met a man willin’ to hang up his hat.”

“They’ll grow outta it,” he said.

“Did you?” she asked, knocking his boot under the table with hers.

“I had my day,” he said, locking eyes with her. “Sarah’s mom—she, uh—I met her in one of those…places.”

“But you married her.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Never liked two-timin’.”

“Well, there’s still hope to be had, then,” she smiled. “Just hope I’m still young and pretty by the time these boys decide t’grow up.”

“How old are you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll be twenty-five on Christmas,” she said.

“Christmas, huh?”

“Yeah, makes it easy on my mama and daddy,” she joked. “What about you?”

“Twenty-eight,” he replied. “Twenty-nine in September.”

“Birthday just passed, then,” she said. “I’ll have t’bake you a belated birthday cake.”

“You tryin’ to win me over with food?” he flirted, just to test the waters.

“I didn’t know I was tryin’ to win you over,” she smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“Your brother would,” she countered.

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

Dorothea sat there watching him with a smile, searching his eyes for any sign of a cruel joke being played on her but found none. Even still, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do in this sort of situation. She’d been flirted with for half her life, but was never interested enough to flirt back. Until now.

“I guess I should be goin’ off,” she said, swallowing her feelings for the man in front of her out of sheer fear of falling flat on her face.

“You gonna get home alright?” he asked, standing up when she stood to carry her plate to the sink. “Could take the horse.”

“No, I’m alright,” she assured with a smile, turning around to find Joel right in front of her, his chin tipped downwards as she looked up into his molasses brown eyes. Though she remained breathless, she couldn’t help but let out an airy chuckle as she lifted her hand to press it against the firm wall of his chest. She didn’t push him away, she simply rested it over his heartbeat to feel for a similar rhythm to her own. “You’re awfully close.”

“Would’ya like me to step back?” he asked, his eyes darting across her features, admiring the curve of her button nose.

“No,” she replied, what was supposed to be playful turning into a whisper as she watched tongue peek out and swipe over his bottom lip. She couldn’t help herself but to want to trace the line, too, her hand raising to rest over his bearded jaw while her thumb ghosted across the bow of his lip. “Never kissed anybody before, y’ know that?”

“S’easier than you’d think,” he whispered back, leaning down to slowly fill the gap between their lips, Dorothea’s eyes fluttering shut as she splayed her hand over his cheek while the other lifted to bury her fingers in his curls.

Joel hummed into the kiss as his lips landed against the pillowy softness of her pout, his chest pressing to hers as he pressed her into the counter behind her, his hands gripping the edge of the rustic wood.

Dorothea’s brows laced together as she tried to keep her head above water in this sea of him. He tasted like the pie she spent all afternoon baking and a little bit of whiskey, the warmth of both heating her skin up as she melted into him.

“Daddy,” Sarah called from the other room, her tiny voice thick with sleep. Joel pulled back first, leaving Dorothea to chase his lips with her eyes still shut. He smiled at the sight and leaned forward to kiss her forehead, pulling her out of her haze.

“I gotta go take her t’bed,” he whispered, his voice raspy in her ear as his lips came to rest there. “Wait for me.”

Dorothea couldn’t speak, her olive colored cheeks turning a shade of red as she watched him walk back and out of the room, his voice soft as he spoke to his daughter, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her down the hall

She stood there resting against the counter, her hand resting on her heated cheeks, smiling at the wood beneath her feet.

Was this what it felt like to want somebody? Did it always feel this good? A blood rush to the head?

Joel found his way back into the living room a few minutes later, finding her in that same spot, still spinning over his touch.

“I…hope that was alright,” he said, seemingly catching her by surprise, her eyes jumping away from the floor to meet his. “I hope I didn’t…assume—“

“I think ya did, just a little bit, but that’s alright,” she smiled, walking over to meet him in the middle of the room, her hands sliding over his chest to loop around his neck. “You assumed right.”

“Tommy ain’t gonna like this,” Joel warned, resting his hands on the small of her back.

“He doesn’t got any claim over me,” she replied, her eyes flickering back to his mouth. “Y’know, your lips are softer than they look.”

“That supposed t’be a compliment?” he smiled and she nodded. “Well, thank ya, ma’am.”

“I like when you call me that,” she grinned. “When you use those southern manners.”

“Yeah?” he grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “You like when I’m quiet and polite?”

She laughed softly and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Like that you know when to talk and when to shut up.”

“Then I’ll shut up now,” he said, smiling into the kiss as he squeezed her closer, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip before grazing the tip of her tongue. Dorothea moaned into the kiss, the sound causing Joel to short circuit and pull away, his forehead resting against hers. “You gotta go home.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, still breathless.

“Come see me tomorrow, if you got the time,” he said, pulling back to comb his hand through her brown waves as they hung loosely down her shoulder and back.

“I’ll see if I can sneak off,” she grinned, stepping back from his embrace to walk out the front door to his porch.

“I’ll see ya,” she said, biting her lip as she turned on her heel to walk down the steps of his porch.

“Bye, Dorothea,” he smiled to himself, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe as he watched her frame get tinier and tinier as she walked down the long, dirt road until she disappeared out of view, taking the sunshine with her.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #ITCCN

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tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar · 11 months

Text

Lesson Learned

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Y/N Female Reader

Summary/Prompt: @eeddiyz asked:hey! So like basically you and Jj are at y/n house and y’all are doing work. Sitting next to each other “in separate chairs” and your mom calls you abt something so you step out. But when you come back, Jj as his feet on your chair. Y/n asked him where do I sit, and he eyes him lap so u sit on his lap!🥹I had a dream abt this I thought it was so cute❤️

Word Count: 886.

Warnings: None.

Note: Hello! Thank you so much for requesting! Don't be shy to share more of your dreams. I hope you enjoy reading!

Hearing another groan coming from behind you, you swirl your desk chair around to face your best friend. His right arm is still in a throwing midair motion.

“Stop wasting my paper, JJ.”

“Just one more!” You have lost count how many times he has said that, but he still swears he can bounce a paper roll up ball off your desk and make it land into your backpack. You have even thought of giving it a try, but your homework is from your first period and since JJ picks you up sometimes late, you need to finish it tonight.

Another ball hits your ankle. “Your paper fucking sucks!”

“No, you’re just lazy.” From your floor, JJ sticks his tongue out as he wraps his arms around your pillow that he has been using as an arm rest. Secretly hoping his scent will stay on it long after he leaves and you go to bed, you watch him make another paper ball quietly. Your mind runs a mile as you follow his fingers. He licks his middle finger to fold the paper in half before crumbling it, and by the way he looks through his hair at you, both of you know that was unnecessary. But not unwanted….you do prefer for his finger to touch something else that you own, like maybe your-

“Y/N! Can you please help me with the groceries?” With your face burning, you scream back to whoever just screamed for you. You barely hold the words themselves as you were pulled out of the thoughts you shouldn’t have about the person who’s not even two feet away and looking at you differently. “I’ll be there in a sec!”

As you walk to your door, JJ asks you, “Didn’t you guys just go to the store?”

Rolling your eyes, you tell him about how someone has started coming over more often with an empty stomach. He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Sounds like a fun person to hang out with.”

“Only when they do their homework with me instead of fooling around.”

“Is what I was doing what you think fooling around is? Oh, sweetheart. I have so much to teach you.”

“Like what? Basketball? I think you are the one in need of a teacher.” By his smirk, you know the crack in your voice was more noticeable than you thought.

“Damn, didn’t take you to have a teacher and student kink-“

“Nope! No! I need to go help!”

JJ is still laughing when you close your bedroom door.

When you reenter, you’re not that surprised to see him sitting in your chair. He always does shit like that. If you get up to use the bathroom at a bonfire, he will sit down to keep your spot warm. He will take a lot of room in the back of the van when it’s your turn to get picked up and he will just nob the space between his legs. You pinch his ankles until he kicks his legs away.

“Where am I supposed to sit?”

He looks at your bed that’s a pile of clothes, with a disappointed look. “If you cleaned before having a special quest over, you wouldn’t have found yourself in this pickle.”

You don’t point out the fact that he invited himself. Instead, he points at his lap with a goofy smile.

Fuck it.

He chokes on a laugh as you move around to get comfortable on his lap. “Didn’t think you would actually do it.”

Me too. “I know.”

His arms wrap around you perfectly. He rests his chin on top of your shoulder like it’s not the first time or wants it to be the last. “Now you know what you have been missing out on.”

“I guess.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re dying from touching me, so I’m taking this as a good thing.”

“You have no idea.”

“What?” He leans more into your back to make eye contact; you can feel him all over as you tilt your head low enough to cover your face with your hair. “Y/N. Please.”

Isn’t it bad enough that he can probably hear how fast your heart is beating? Now he can feel how warm your face is from just cupping your chin upwards and towards him.

“If you’re uncomfortable,” you shake your head no. “Or don’t want this,” another head shake. “You will have to drag my ass out of this room or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?”

He kisses you. Slowly. Deeply, moving his hand from your chin to the side of your face. His rings feel so nice against your skin. You tug on his hoodie to pull him closer. He smiles against your lips.

“You can stay.”

“Oh, thank god.” He falls dramatically backwards, dipping you both lower. Your chair lets out a squeak or you do as you move upwards to hold onto him. “JJ, stop!”

“I don’t I want to now I know that makes you climb me like a tree.” Rolling your eyes, you pinch his hip.

“Ow! That fucking hurt! Why do you always pinch me?”

You dramatically fall against his chest. “I just can’t keep my fingers off of you.”

Feeling his inhale, breathe and mumble, “you tease,” you giggle.

“I think that’s the thing I learned from you, babe.”

Taglist (ask to join!) @jjmaybankzz @afterglowsb-tch13 @moniamaybank @scandalousfemale @heysimps @fives-cup-of-coffee @mahleeyuh @jjmaybanksbaby @maddiebee2019 @softstarkey @pixelated-pogues @mrsmaybankhere @drewsephrry @cognacdelights @ssjiara @jjaybank @ilovejjmaybank @collectiveuniverses @bxllasanosa @jellyfishbeansontoast @dpaccione @jiaraendgame @poguestyleskye @jeyramarie @all-american-fangirl @obxmxybxnk @talksoprettyjjx @pit-zuh @loveop5500 @jjsbxtch @jjpouggues @jjstoothpick @alanniys @loveyru

#my wrtitng #my masterlist #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj obx #jj imagine #jj outer banks #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #obx jj maybank #obx jj imagine

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teecupangel · 4 months

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Okay what if Edward stated haunting the jackdaw after his death and some pieces of the jackdaw after its destruction was repurposed into the aquila

Yeah, that could work. All we know from the Jackdaw’s ‘death’ is that it sank in the West Indies (as seen in Freedom Cry where Adéwalé can get the figurehead) so it’s possible that Adéwalé could have told them where to find it. Although using parts from an already sunken and drenched ship would be dangerous so I would suggest that there’s something in Aquila that was once part of the Jackdaw. I would have suggested the helm but that’s already in Kenway mansion before it sunk and having the figurehead instead is kinda iffy (and absolutely not because I like the figurehead of the Aquila XD).

So how about the chest in the captain’s cabin instead?

Edward would start haunting the Jackdaw under the sea since the Jackdaw was sunk before his death and maybe he manages to whisper to the one diving to take the chest because he realized that’s what he was ‘connected’ to.

Why?

He has no idea.

His first guess would be because the Jackdaw’s pirate flag had been stored in the chest after they sailed for Bristol.

Maybe the lingering attachment Edward had for the pirate’s life is what is keeping him tethered to the ship.

Once Aquila is constructed, he begins to haunt it.

The crew of the Aquila believes he is a dead sailor or maybe even one of the men that Achilles had killed before.

Achilles never saw him though.

To be more exact, Edward couldn’t appear before him.

No matter what he does.

He always return in the cabin whenever he is about to enter Achilles’ line of sight.

No.

When he’s about to enter the line of sight of any Assassins.

He can’t even contact anyone else. The moment he tries to come near them, he’s back in the captain’s cabin once more.

If someone was in the captain’s cabin, it was like he was completely invisible.

And he could not do anything.

Can’t even try and leave a message for Adéwalé any time he boards the Aquila.

He can’t even throw anything to defuse his rage after hearing that Haytham, his own son, had become a Templar.

All he could do was watch the sea as his rage slowly subsided.

And what’s left is pain and love.

The pain of knowing his son chose a path he could not approve and the indestructible love he felt for him even as he walked a path Edward would never approve.

Maybe there was a reason.

Maybe Edward simply want there to be a reason…

He didn’t want to believe his son would willingly join the organization that killed him without a reason.

What about Jenny?

Was Jenny alright?

Was she… still alive?

How many years have passed?

Since that fateful day…

He finally saw Haytham once more.

And he heard of Adéwalé’s death.

And now, all he can do is watch as Haytham destroys the Brotherhood in the colonies, leaving Achilles in pain and limping as he ordered the Aquila to return home.

He haunts a rotting ship.

He haunts a dying ship.

He doesn’t know what has happened to Haytham.

He does not know what happened to Jenny.

Was this his punishment for not being a good husband to Caroline?

He tried to be a good husband to Tessa but he knew that would never remove the stain of his failure as Caroline’s husband.

Was this his punishment for not listening to Jenny? For trying to selfishly keep her safe by marrying her off to someone who could provide her with everything she would ever need?

Was this his punishment for teaching Haytham before he could even understand what it means to be part of the Brotherhood?

Was this his punishment for believing Birch?

Was this…

His own personal hell?

His punishment for living when his friends, his fellow pirates, all died…

Was he meant to haunt this dying ship until it finally sinks deep into the waters below?

Alone in this cold prison…

“Hello?”

Edward turned at the sound of a young man’s voice.

He was tall with clothes that reminded Edward of the few natives that would sometimes board the Aquila when Achilles still held fire in his eyes.

“Are you one of Mr. Faulkner’s men?” The boy asked curiously.

Edward looked around, wondering who the boy was talking to.

Until he remembered.

It was just him.

His head turned back to the boy quickly as he asked, “Can you… can you see me?”

The boy frowned as he replied in a questioning tone, confused by the question itself, “Yes?”

Edward’s eyes widened.

Someone could see him.

But why?

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton.” The boy replied before pausing for a moment. His brows furrowed as he added, “You may call me Connor.”

“Connor.” Edward repeated. He knew the name.

It was the name of Achilles’ late son.

He wasn’t that boy.

Who was he?

Why could he see him?

“Hello, Connor. My name is Edward Kenway.”

The boy frowned as he asked, “Are you related to Haytham Kenway?”

“Yes.” Edward couldn’t stop the resignation in his tone as he admitted, “I’m… his father.”

The boy’s frown deepened as he said, “But you don’t look old enough to be his father.”

“I stopped aging when I died.” Edward explained, waving a hand on himself as he said, “I’m a ghost haunting that chest over there.”

“Oh.” The boy blinked and seemed to mull it over before he nodded as he said, “It’s nice to meet you then, grandfather.”

“Nice to me- wait what?”

#yeah i’m ending it there XD #no haytham can’t see him #i’m not that nice XD #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #edward kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway

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incorrectbatfam · 5 months

Note

What do the Goofy Gooners look like .. asking for a friend …

Rob is a tired dad with an inferiority complex. He doesn't put much effort into his appearance because basic hygiene already saps a lot of his energy. He has reddish-brown hair that he keeps short for convenience and doesn't shave as often as he should, so there's always a thin layer of stubble. I picture him to be around 33 but stress makes him look older. He usually wears the same basic t-shirts and cargo pants—a polo would be fancy for him. He's on the underweight side because he frequently skips meals so his kids and Milo have enough. He also has random tattoos scattered over his arms plus one on his leg and neck. They don't mean anything, just dumb stuff he got when he was younger, including a winking emoticon and the Pillsbury doughboy.

Blaise is 26 and you can tell he's a stoner from the get-go. He has dirty blonde hair that he grows out but hardly maintains, and the same level of effort goes for his clothes. He often wears things he finds in dumpsters or thrift stores and chooses comfort over style. His clothes have lots of hidden pockets for lighters, firecrackers, and weapons. He's tall and lanky, which makes living out of Milo's car in the parking lot awkward (Rob offered his apartment but he declined). Similar to Rob, Blaise also has a number of meaningless tattoos plus several piercings. He also plays the guitar and keeps his lucky pick on a necklace.

Kellin is a 20-year-old originally hailing from Thailand. Their assassin parents trained them in gymnastics, martial arts, and various weaponry from a young age in hopes that Kellin would follow in the family's footsteps and join the League of Assassins. That obviously didn't work out and they traveled around as an independent hitman (hitperson?) for a couple years before they landed in Gotham. They're always battle-ready—if they could shower in their assassin uniform they would. They changed their name and keep their hair just long enough to mask their face. They're fluent in English, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Arabic, but they prefer to let their actions speak for them instead.

Molly is a 25-year-old trans woman who incorporates her jobs as a drug dealer, team strategist, and nightclub DJ in a single look. She has long dark hair dyed with neon streaks but ties it up when fighting. She's not the most formidable combatant but she has basic fighting skills and is very calculative. Her primary weapon is a metal baseball bat, inspired by her favorite anti-hero, Harley Quinn. She also has a belt equipped with her experimental chemicals and smoke pellets. However, she's not allowed to pair up with Blaise on missions because it's an open secret that the two of them can't focus around each other.

Otto is a war veteran and car mechanic around the same age as Alfred, but that's where the similarities end. He's been wearing the same mechanic's uniform for the past four decades, the only differences between then and now being his hair thinning, a couple front teeth falling out, and acquiring a beer gut. His arms are covered in scabs and scars from the job and he's had trouble with his right knee ever since the army. On the surface he seems like a Boomer yelling at kids to get off his lawn, but he's more like a stern but well-intentioned grandpa who is disappointed to see nothing much has changed over the years.

Milo is your standard 15-year-old delinquent. He's slightly small for his age and doesn't pack that big of a punch on his own, but put him behind the wheel and he's a total menace. When he's not driving, he keeps himself stimulated with video games or his collection of keychains (his favorite is purple bat because of his puppy crush on Spoiler). His look is reminiscent of early 2000s skater punks, including a bright red mohawk and his trusty headphones. Everything he owns, minus his car, fits into a single backpack. His weapon, on the rare occasion Rob lets him on the front line, is a batarang he found on the street.

Gene is someone you would never expect to have so many issues because on the outside he looks like an average 40-year-old glasses-wearing office worker. He has short sandy hair and dark circles under his eyes from nightmares. His meds help a lot, but sometimes he's still seen pacing around and muttering to himself. He's not a danger anymore compared to the past, which is why Rob trusts him enough to share an apartment. Gene focuses his nervous energy into his research and tinkering instead, amassing a comedic collection of hyperspecific gadgets.

Mac is basically the guy in the chair. He's 30 and has thick glasses, thick curly brown hair, a thin goatee, and almost exclusively wears flannel. His nails are down to a nub because he bites them when concentrating. He's also often seen with chips or an energy drink in his hands and wears a jailbroken smart watch. Of the team, he has the least physical prowess but the most brain power. He doesn't see combat often but keeps a pistol in case. He turned an old ice cream truck into his home/mobile office so he can plug in anywhere. Like Kellin, he's also not from Gotham, but instead Fawcett City and has a distinct Minnesota accent.

Booker is a 19-year-old Gotham U student and the third member of the team's Glasses Trio. He's an intelligent guy slated to graduate a year early and thus needs his internship credits sooner. He's very polite (albeit a little socially awkward) and puts his best foot forward by coming into work with slacks and fun patterned suspenders even though he doesn't have to. His hair has a slightly uneven fade because his sister insisted on practicing on him for cosmetology school, so he covers it with a fedora. He carries his things in a laptop bag and has an enthusiastic bounce in his step that only newbies would have.

Jackie and Gunner are Rob's 6-year-old twins (Jackie being 8 minutes older) and are the babies of this hodgepodge family. Jackie takes after her late mother with frizzy black hair usually tied in pigtails. She loves wearing pink, reads way above her level, and is a horse girl in that she wants one to stomp on the people she doesn't like. Gunner looks more like his dad, though his hair is a little messier and overgrown. He hates school but loves dirt and monster trucks. Both of them have a troublesome streak but Jackie's a little better at hiding it. They quarrel like siblings do but at the end of the day, they always stick up for each other.

#see previous posts #original character #batman #batfamily #batfam #batman family #dc villains #gotham rogues #dc comics #character idea #character design #headcanon #long post #tw violence mention

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corruptedcaps · 6 months

Text

Something Wicked: part three

Read part one here

Read part two here

Jenna arrived at the mall and viewed it like never before. Where before she had seen it as a place to spend daddy’s money and get pampered while getting hit on by cute boys she now saw it as a monument to consumerism that made her sick. However it did have its uses she thought as she entered the alternative salon.

She remembered scoffing at the tattooed and pierced employees with her clique of beta bitches every time she passed it, often declaring she would never been seen dead in there. Now she looked at the pictures that adorned the walls with aspiration. She wanted that girls hair, that girls nails, that girls piercing. She wanted her very look to strike fear into Jennifer and her loser friends.

“How can I help you dear?” Said the lady at the counter and a sly smile crept onto Jenna’s lips.

Hours later Jenna stepped out of the salon feeling like a new woman. Her hair was dyed, her nails were black and sharp and her lip, tongue and nipples were pierced. She loved it all, especially the nipple piercing which she played with endlessly.

There was just one thing lacking now and that was her wardrobe. The baggy hoody was starting to feel like a weight upon her. She needed clothes that showed off her body and her impressive tits. Her body felt as though it was on autopilot as she entered a goth boutique called "Eclipse."

The store’s neon signs and edgy window displays drew her in, and she wasted no time browsing the racks filled with goth clothing. Her eyes fell on a particularly revealing black latex top and a pair of fishnet stockings. Excitement bubbled within her as she picked them up and headed to the dressing room.

Inside the fitting room, Jenna slipped into the a black latex top with matching latex min skirt, and fishnet stockings. She admired her reflection in the mirror, noting to herself once again that Lily had a great body before correcting herself with pleasure that SHE had a great body. Lily hid it under layers of clothing and timidness but Jenna oozed confidence, now more than ever.

A sinister smile curled on Jenna's lips as she admired her new appearance. The piercings, the hair, the nails, the edgy makeup – they all seemed to amplify her newfound seduction. With each passing moment, the lines between her old self and the person she had become blurred.

She whispered to her reflection, "There's a darkness within me, waiting to be unleashed. It's time to embrace the power of this body fully. This world has no fucking idea what's coming."

Her outfit complete she stepped out of the dressing room as a sales associate, Raven, approached, and Jenna suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach.

“Wow Lily you look amazing! New hair and new makeup? I’m glad you finally took me up on the offer to try something other than the baggy tops.” Raven said and Jenna’s mind became awash with memories. Lily frequented this store dozens and dozens of time, rarely buying anything. No, instead she came to see Raven.

Raven was a striking figure with a distinctive appearance that immediately caught the eye. She had jet-black hair that fell in tousled waves, framing her face with an air of effortless coolness.

Raven’s style was impeccable, reflecting her role as a sales associate in the goth clothing store. She was often seen in edgy, all-black ensembles that accentuated her unique look. Her outfit typically included a collection of silver jewelry and accessories, adding a touch of rebellion to her appearance.

Raven was a college dropout who worked part time at the store but Lily had memorized her schedule making she to never miss an opportunity to see her. Lily was infatuated with Raven and this obsession had rubbed off on Jenna without her knowing. This was why she instinctively went for this store.

Jenna had never thought of girls in any sort of lustful way but looking at Raven made her hornier than she had ever been before in her life. Lily never asked Raven out, too scared of rejection. But Jenna wasn’t Lily and Jenna got what she wanted.

“Well, you were right, Raven. Sometimes a little change can be quite… liberating. Thanks for the stylish guidance and for showing me a different side of fashion. I’m going for a goth princess kind of look, do you think I’m pulling it off?” Jenna said as she gave a striking pose for Raven.

Fear momentarily struck Jenna as Raven seemed shocked by her new confidence. Had she gone too far too fast? Her worry was dashed seconds later when Raven moved in closer to her. “No I don’t. You’ve got much more of a goth queen vibe.”

Jenna felt her heart begin to race a little as she sensed the flirtation between them. Her body was nearly red hot with desire and even Lily’s normally shy and reserved voice in her head was screaming out for pleasurable release. But Jenna was no stranger to this dance, even if this was with a woman.

“Is that so?” Jenna said moving even closer to Raven, the rest of the store seemed to fade away. “Well shouldn’t you be kneeling then?”

A playful smirk played on Jenna’s lips as Raven leaned in to whisper in her ear, “The question is would you make me kneel if I refused?”

Moments later the door to Eclipse was shut as both Jenna and Raven stumbled into the back stock room of the store, their hands grasping madly at each other’s bodies, their lips kissing any bare skin available. Jenna pushed Raven hard against the wall causing the sales clerk to groan happily. Jenna gave her a deep kiss as she grabbed at Raven’s sensitive tits. Jenna moved from her lips and started kissing further south before Raven stopped her.

“Ah ah wait. A Queen deserves a throne.” Raven said with a smirk as she led Jenna to a red leather seat behind some shelves and sat her down. Raven lifted up Jenna’s yet to paid for latex mini skirt and knelt down in front of Jenna’s glistening pussy and started licking her clit.

Jenna moaned an animalistic moan like no man had ever given her before. She didn’t know if it was Lily’s mind further merging with her own or whether it was something in her own that had awakened but she didn’t care. She was different now, she was better.

Running her obsidian nails through Raven’s hair, Jenna guided her new thrall to her most sensitive of areas, which Raven did eagerly. In the dim light of the stock room, Jenna could see a blinking light in the corner and realized the security camera was pointed directly at them. Rather than become concerned about it, Jenna instead felt a wicked plan take root in her mind. One so depraved and bad that she got even more turned on.

Jenna could feel any remnants of her cheerleading former life melt away with each pleasurable sensation Raven was invoking. She realized that as Jenna the cheerleader she was weak, hiding behind her blonde perfect hair, her rich family and her popularity. For the first time in her life she felt true power. Raven was eating her pussy perfectly because she wasn’t some rich spoilt princess. No she did it because this goth bitch commanded it so. Jenna and Lily were both dead now. Only Lilith remained.

As she came at this realization her eyes rolled into the back of her head cementing Lilith as the only personality in her mind. She was an evil, wicked little bitch and she was going to take Jennifer down and become the goth queen she was destined to be.

Lilith grabbed Raven’s hair and pulled her up into a dark embrace, tasting her own juices with delight. Lilith was even more assertive and dominant than Jenna was and Raven was about to experience it first hand. She threw Raven to the floor and pulled the shop goth’s panties out from below her plaid skirt. Lilith got to work as if she had done it a thousand times, Raven was moaning within seconds.

“Ohhhh fuck…. Ohhhh god…. Oh Lily!” She yelled as Lilith worked her way around her pussy like an expert, however she needed to correct one thing first.

“Lily is fucking dead, it’s Lilith from now on.” She grinned darkly as she went back down for more. Raven had never experienced such pleasure. She was no prude, and she had been called the opposite numerous times but there was something wild and animalistic about Lilith. Like a caged beast had finally been unleashed. She loved it.

“Oh fuck yes Lilith you bitch! You slut! You fucking queen!” Raven moaned. Lilith meanwhile was like a woman possessed, every second that ticked by cemented the new darker persona in her head. She didn’t want power anymore, she wanted chaos.

Removing her tongue from Raven’s soaking wet pussy she replaced it with three fingers which she used to expertly massage her lover’s sensitivities. As she did this, Lilith maneuvered up to Raven’s ear to whisper her silky words.

“Now tell me, who do you serve?” Lilith purred with the tone of a woman in total control.

“You my queen. Ohhhhh fuck! Queen Lilith!” Raven groaned as her body vibrated.

“And you would do anything for me, isn’t that right?” Lilith asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Of course! Just say the word…. Oh goooood!” Raven gasped.

“Good. Then I want you to cum. Longer and louder than you ever had in your life. If you don’t do this, you will be punished, understand?” Lilith said as she twisted her fingers inside Raven to show she was serious.

“Yes yes yes yes my queen!” Raven said almost pleading.

“Perfect. Now do it my little cumslut!” Lilith demanded and Raven soon obeyed with a guttural roar and an intense contortion of her body. Lilith went back to her impromptu throne and watched in delight as Raven continued to writhe around in pleasure on the floor.

When she was finally done she basically crawled over to Lilith who sat casually on the chair. “Oh my god Lilith, you are amazing! I meant every word I said, I’ll do anything for you…. My queen.” Raven said on her knees in front of Lilith.

Lilith put Raven’s face into her hand and ran a sharp nail softly down her cheek. “I know my pet, which is why for starters you’re going to give me anything from this store that I desire.”

“Of course mistress, anything you want is yours. Everything looks so good on you.” Raven said showering her lover with praise.

“But course it does but it’s not just clothes I’m interested in.” Lilith said with a wicked smile as she turned her gaze up to the still blinking red light of the security camera. Raven followed her gaze to the camera and was confused but anything her mistress wanted, she would now provide.

To be concluded…

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #corrupted jewellery #corrupted cheerleader #corrupted goth

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sunflowersandsapphires · 6 months

Text

Self-Indulgent HCs

pairing(s): Frank Castle x fem!Reader, Matt Murdock x fem!Reader, Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader

summary: How each of the boys would care for you when you were sick, headcanons bc i am tired

warnings: non-graphic, general descriptions of sickness (just cold/fever, not covid)

a/n: this month was already rough on my allergies but i came down with quite possibly the worst cold I’ve ever had. (It’s literally so bad i had to use PTO instead of WFH days? I am literally dying.) I wrote this when I was feverish and couldn’t sleep to make myself feel better. I hope someone out there likes it 😭

Frank

I think Frank would worry a lot when his partner was sick.

He’s lost so many people and he doesn’t have a huge circle so i think it takes him by surprise a little.

But he’d do his best to hide his worries by going about his day and comforting you.

He’d get fresh produce from the store and make you delicious soup, pick up tissues and medicine for you, threaten anyone who tried to make you go into work

“Your boss still pullin’ that shit? Gimme the phone, let me talk to ‘em”

He loves being your big spoon anyways but he would not let you go if you looked or sounded ill. You’d be nestled carefully against his chest while he stroked your back until you fell asleep.

He’d keep you entertained by reading to you or watching whatever TV your fever-ridden mind is craving.

Above all, he wouldn’t leave your side until you were feeling better.

The smile on his face the next time you take him out would be brilliant. He’s just so happy that you’re here with him and feeling better.

Matt

Personally, i hate the idea of getting people sick more than actually being sick sometimes but i think this would especially be the case with Matt

His senses are so delicate, I wouldn’t want to fuck with him by being gross and loud or by getting him sick.

But there is no way this man isn’t the biggest self-sacrificing-mother-hen when someone he loves is sick.

He’d sense your illness before you would, and encourage you to take it easy and sleep a bit extra that week (above all, he’s a hypocrite.)

Of course, he’s a bit embarrassed of everything he can do, or maybe you don’t know the extent of what he is capable of, so he plays it off as “you’ve been working so hard lately, sweetheart, you need to take it easy.”

A day or two before the bug hits you like a truck, he’d come over with a bag from the pharmacy that’s just chock-full of DayQuil and Tea and cough drops and like a single bandaid

He poorly plays it off as “uh, your first aid kit was low, remember?”

Once you’re well and truly sick, he’d be stubborn as a mule if you tried to keep him away. You lock him out of your apartment? You wake up from a nap wrapped in a Devil-shaped blanket to find that someone picked your window lock.

At that point, you just cave and let him stay because you are so cold and he’s so so warm.

Mikey

Not afraid of using his puppy dog eyes to get you to stay home or in bed.

Also not afraid of crying wolf and pretending that he’s not feeling well to make you take a break

“Sorry, pet, my head is hammerin’. Think we could lay down fer a bit?”

Combined WITH the puppy eyes? You don’t stand a chance.

Though you usually take care of the housework while he’s dealing with his family’s business, he wouldn’t let you lift a finger until your temperature was normal and your voice came back.

It’s as if you’re the only person that exists to him, he’s running around trying to anticipate your every need.

It’s been a while since he’s dealt with the real world so he might ask Birdy for advice on how to care for a sick person.

Lots of home remedies (idk just vibes.)

He would have you lean against him in a scalding shower to clear your sinuses or draw you a nice bath.

Keep cool water and a cloth by the bed to bring your fever down.

Hand you cup after cup of tea until you have to threaten to tie him to the bed.

“Just lay with me, please”

“Of course, pet. Anything fer ya.”

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arechickensreal · 5 months

Note

could you do a toaster x trans masc reader who got their period and gets dysphoria from it? thank you if you do we for this ask

Anon yr literally in my head what the flip. Im transmasc and got this ask the DAY my period started ;; but anyways uh the pain is real. as of writing this i'm sitting in english class, supposed to be writing an essay, but instead i'm dying of cramps in my little corner of the classroom. Writing this for 4 u and very much for me lmao. Thank u anon. Enjoy the hcs. Might write a fic, who knows? Fuck around n find out in the next episode Non-transmasc readers can read this too, just ignore the parts that are specific to transmasc readers lol.

✿ NakedToaster x Transmasc reader on his period ✿

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ngl. he doesn’t really exactly know what to do at first, but he eventually figures out what’s up.

But he’ll ask you what you need him to do, or if you want him to do anything.

He knows that you get a lot of dysphoria from it, and he tries to be as comforting as they can

Assures you that it doesn’t make you any less of a man, and you're still a man regardless. You'll always be his wonderful boyfriend, and he’ll be here for you.

He makes it a point to use lots of affirming language to help comfort you about your dysphoria

Calling you things like ‘my handsome boy’ ‘man’ ‘dude’, etc, etc.

When you’re cuddling, he’ll try and make sure to avoid touching spots that you're dysphoric about because he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.

But he always offers to cuddle at night if you’re having cramps

They’ll hold you close, with his hands over your stomach in some sort of attempt to ease the pain.

He’ll probably go out to the store and buy you anything and everything you need

We all know he loves to spoil you.

But during your period? Oh he pampers you. Like A LOT.

He knows you're a bit more sensitive/vulnerable during this time, and he knows how bad your dysphoria can get too during this time, too.

Orders food that he knows you like and/or find comforting. Hes not too confident in his cooking, so he just orders.

Does anything you ask, and it is always there at your call.

Makes sure you have everything you need. Comfy clothes, heating pads, water, snacks, all that.

If it's REALLY bad, they’ll even see if they can stay and work from home just to stay there with you.

The thought that it’s digging into his raid hours crosses his mind, but his boyfriend is more important.

He probably does some research into how to help, and things that could be gender affirming for you, etc.

Makes you tea

He's just generally really understanding and supportive with you. He hates seeing you hurting and dysphoric, so he just wants to help.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Rules for Requests/Asks || Masterlist || Send asks/requests here!

#blooming panic #bloomic #nakedtoaster #nakedtoaster blooming panic #nakedtoaster x reader #nakedtoaster headcanons #nakedtoaster hcs #ren answers asks #fluff #blooming panic fluff #comfort #bro my cramps are so bad rn #save me fr #me reading this post later the same day because *I* need the comfort

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10thmusemoon · 10 months

Text

"Pride and Pest-ilence"

X-Posted from twitter and ao3 Rating: M Fandom: SVSSS Ship: MoShang (M/M) Word Count: 5,736 Tags: Comedy, c!blocked by administrative duties, ADP vs the sect, the horrifying ordeal of having coworkers

Summary:

An infestation has come to Cang Qiong Mountain sect. Shang Qinghua is so exhausted trying to resolve it and keep his disciples from actively committing (justified!) murder, why did Mobei Jun choose now of all times to try and seduce him?!

Shang Qinghua is going to throw up. Mobei Jun is straddled above him, carefully peeling back his robes and running his hands over all his exposed skin. Groping shamelessly at the softness of his stomach, and chest leaving Shang Qinghua so hard that there is no way he doesn’t feel it. He definitely feels Mobei Jun pressing against his thigh. Just as Shang Qinghua is tensing up, anticipating the tongue descending down his chest, there’s a thumping at his door. Mobei Jun pauses for just a moment, long enough to meet his eyes in a question and receive a shake of a head for an answer. “Not unless the peaks are on fire.”

Undeterred, his king continues his descent and at the first touch of that cold tongue against his nipple he- -Is pushing Mobei Jun off the bed. The emergency alarm bell system he set up, the one only the sect leader or his head disciple can activate is going crazy.

They are only meant to activate it at the most crucial of emergencies, ones that need An Ding Peak’s immediate all hands on deck attention. In the 30 years he has been a peak lord, it has never gone off. Until now.

Shoving on his robes, he looks over at his king apologetically and places a finger to his lips. “My king this- this is an emergency! Just stay here for a moment, just a moment and I’ll find out what it is.”

Mobei Jun slumps back against the floor, the tent in his pants still obvious, and Shang Qinghua wants to cry at the sight of it. The promise land was so close!! Someone better be dying!!

Someone is not dying. It’s worse than that. Instead all of An Ding Peak is about to want to die and leave the sect in shambles and Shang Qinghua wouldn’t blame them.

It’s telling of the situation that beore he even has the chance to say anything, t his cute (terrifying) head disciple’s hand shoves through the crack in his door to yank at his sleeve. “Promise Shizun, promise me you won’t leave.” That’s not good!!! Not good at all!!

The last time she made him promise not to bail on the sect was when an enterprising pair of senior Zui Xian Peak disciples had exploded several barrels of wine, lit a store house, two dorms, and a whole orchard on fire. It had taken a full week to isolate the fires to a portion of the peak and another to finally put them out. An Ding Peak disciples then spent three months of nonstop work reconstructing the lost buildings, helping salvage the orchard, and take inventory of what was lost.

An even then, Shang Qinghua's emergency wards had not been rung! So somehow... this is worse. Wu Zhao's fierce grip is threatening to tear his robes and he tries to pat at her hand comfortingly. Her expression only darkens. "This...master promises. What is it, what's happened?"

It's worse than anything Shang Qinghua could have imagined. After closing the door he's running back to his room to dig through his chest of items, there's- there has to be- "Qinghua." This will come in handy too and- "Qinghua!"

Spinning to face his bed, Shang Qinghua's anxiety momentarily shuts down and his brain shuts down. Mobei Jun is naked. On his bed. Shang Qinghua wants to cry. "My King, I...I cannot tell you how badly I want to stay, there is nothing more I want to do-"

Mobei Jun's expression is akin to that of a prize winning luxury cat coming across dollar store kibble. There is a stilted, and quite frankly offended, air to the way he pulls together his clothes. "Qinghua knows how to call this king." Aaaahh he's moping!!

Even the summoned portal feels a little dejected in it's wobbliness. -

An Ding Peak is at war. Shang Qinghua has worked day in and day out, his disciples are dropping one by one in exhaustion. Each is one poorly worded request away from murdering their off peak martial siblings. There's been an infestation.

Blinking Silver Crawlers have been brought to the sect. What was once a throwaway plot device to have Luo Binghe go on an Indiana Jones style quest to find an artifact in a lost library has become Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's nightmare. Specifically An Ding Peak's nightmare.

These insect on steroids eat all sorts of organic materials. Paper, wood, glue, cloth, you name it! And to make matters worst, they blink in and out of existence and reproduce at a rapid rate. Catching them is nearly impossible. They could be anywhere. The are everywhere.

The thing is, this shouldn't have happened. It shouldn’t have been possible. An Ding Peak has devised an extensive pest management system that has been integrated across all peaks and vendors. There isn't a single person that is exempt from participating in it, including the sect leader! There are pest logs, weekly sweeps, that are supposed to take place on each peak. There’s very detailed isolation procedures for new cargo brought up the mountains. There are specialized wards to deter insects that must be up kept!

Which means, someone hasn't been doing their due diligence to follow proper procedures and reporting practices. Shang Qinghua and his Hall Masters have resorted to confiscating the traditional An Ding Peak Welcome Knife that Wu Zhao gifts the new disciples after their first year. All it took was for a single incident of a disciple implying that It Wasn't That Serious for a sleep deprived group of An Ding disciples to go stab happy. Shang Qinghua doesn't blame them. Zhangmen-shixiong, however, does.

Zhangmen-shixiong can stick his morals where the sun doesn’t shine!!!! By the end of the first week since the infestation was reported, they've lost eight storehouses across five peaks!!! It has been, thankfully, mostly laundry houses, restock locations, and extra lumber. But there have been sightings near the libraries, which is a disaster waiting to happen. Cang Qiong Mountain sect is a purveyor of knowledge, all sorts of rare texts exist across all the highly specialized peaks. Everything from cultivation techniques to the last hundred years of farming history, to even the migration patterns of local fauna is stored in the libraries. And An Ding Peak is responsible for all of it.

In theory, each peak should be responsible for managing the upkeep and care of their own libraries. In reality, no one in this sect can be trusted to wipe their ass without an An Ding disciple telling them how and then doing it themselves when it isn't done correctly.

There is a reason why An Ding Peak’s head disciples have to be nominated by Hall Masters to even be considered for the position, and even then there is stress testing involved with in a rigorous apprenticeship regiment program. They have back ups. That's also why the An Ding Peak Lords are Like That.

It's a certain type of personality that can be the head of customer service, housekeeping, construction, negotiation, and IT all in one. Definitely no one sane and ethical can succeed in the position. It's one of the rare peaks where entitled nobles do not thrive, and are actually at a disadvantage. After so many years of this, it's not uncommon for the senior disciples to become cutthroat. Shang Qinghua sabotaged his way the top, and Wu Zhao has done the same.

That is the An Ding way. So, it is not an exaggeration to say that Shang Qinghua is acting in the capacity likened to that of a war general. Every morning he meets with his 12 Hall masters over giant map of all the peaks located in the An Ding meeting hall. They go over where the infestation has been spotted, what wards have been recently renewed, and what tactics have been tried (and failed) to quarantine locations.

There are daily report on the state of their disciples and the rising tensions among the other peaks based on who have clearly not been doing their part in the integrated pest management system.

Then, every evening, Shang Qinghua summarizes this knowledge to the other peak lords who have, quite frankly, an obscene range of understanding of the severity of the situation. Shang Qinghua wants to kill his martial siblings.

There is a meeting where Wei Qingwei, whose peak works mostly with inorganic materials, makes a joke about the pest logs and Liu Qingge comments implying that he didn't even know they existed. It makes Shang Qinghua sees red, leaves him wishing Luo Binghe had actually burned the sect down.

Before he has time to leap over the table and die at the end of Liu Qingge's sword, sweet beautiful Qi Qingqi is chastising them until they are shamefaced and silent. By the time he heads home at the end of each night, Shang Qinghua is nothing more than a pile of tension headaches stacked a top one another, and held together by a soggy noodle.

He is definitely, not in the mood to have rigorous demon sex with a Mobei Jun that keeps showing up in varying states of dress. Despite how he desperately wants to! Despite how Mobei Jun looks increasingly dejected and pathetic each time he turns him down!

Don't blame this servant, my king! Little Airplane cannot shoot towards the sky when existence is a prison and life is an insect fueled nightmare. No matter how nice your tits look in that sheer robe!

When Mobei Jun shows up with nipple piercings, intricate jewelry connecting the two heavenly peaks, Shang Qinghua turns around and leaves his house without a word. He's halfway to Qiong Ding Peak to resign when his head disciple catches him and drags him off to eat in the An Ding Peak communal cafeteria that has quickly turned into a 24 hour spot. It has developed all the liminal energy of a city diner that never closes. Surrounded by his crying, angry, disciples cursing the other peaks to the high heavens, Shang Qinghua feels truly seen.

By the fourth week, when cultivation manuals start to be devoured and the usual laundry services have come to a stall, the rest of the sect wakes up to the reality of the issue. An Ding Peak almost wishes they hadn't. Everyone has solutions. Everyone is so creative.

Some solutions are tame, if ineffective. Qian Cao disciples, sick of having their bandages devoured, start leaving out sticky traps in the hopes of deterring and capturing the insects. Which would be fine!!! If not for the Blinking part of Blinking Silver Crawlers.

The bastards get caught in the trap, blink out of existence next to it, then eat the glue trap. Mu Qingfang looks especially embarrassed at this development and all Shang Qinghua can do about is pat his favorite shidi on the back in sympathy.

And then there are the idiots. Zhangmen-shixiong, the coward, can't even tell Shang Qinghua himself when it happens. Instead, he sends his head disciple, the one he knows Shang Qinghua's head disciple has a soft spot for, with the message. In an attempt to make the environment inhospitable to the insects, Qiong Ding Peak disciples teamed up with both the beast peak and Zui Xian Peak to develop an alcohol based pesticide. It's highly flammable.

They lose food stores on two peaks to the flames, not the insects. When they dispatch An Ding disciples to, once again, control the fires, Shang Qinghua has to hold back his head disciple from going with them. To avoid a public execution, he steals her away to the noodle stall at the base of the mountain where they drown their sorrows in food and alcohol. Shang Qinghua is absolutely shit faced when Mobei Jun arrives that night. He isn't even trying to seduce him, this time. He's wearing his normal opened court robes when Shang Qinghua bursts into tears and buries his face in that beautiful chest. The cold does wonders for his headache and alcohol induced flush. Claws gently card through his hair as Mobei Jun holds him until he falls asleep.

A week later, Mobei Jun shows up with his chest heaving and flushed, clearly under the effects of an aphrodisiac of some sort. Shang Qinghua, having predicted this and prepared for this, grabs the all purpose healing spray he made and douses Mobei Jun until he portals away with all the dignity of a wet cat. Head pressed against his table, Shang Qinghua wonders at what his life has become.

The next day, after the morning meeting with his Hall Masters, Shang Qinghua receives news that Shen Qingqiu has returned to the peak and flies over to immediately. Cucumber bro has been gone for the majority of this nightmare and he needs his obsessive insights on these pests immediately. He's barely touched down on Qing Jing Peak when he sees the tell tale signs of disciples running around with their head's cut off. "Shishu! Shang-shishu! Wait!" "Is it a library?" They’ve started shutting some down on other peaks, if they have to do so for Qing Jing Peak then the shit really has hit the fan. "No but-" "Later then!"

He's barely touched down in front of the Bamboo House when a chill starts going down his spine. The screens are gone, eaten through by their tiny nightmares. The door frame is only barely there at all. "Uhhh, Cucumber -bro?" The door is partly open, unable to close due to the state of the wood, and there is the sound of movements coming from inside the house. Normally, all of this would be enough to warn Shang Qinghua away from entering. The last thing he needs is to be dragged into their deadly exhibition kink and yet- An ominous feeling has come over him. "Bro?" Cracking open the door further, his heart drops out of his chest.

The Bamboo House has been ransacked. Or better yet, invaded. The shelves that once held an assortment of scrolls are empty, the infrastructure of it barely standing. The low table they used to eat at is half gone, walls that once had beautiful tapestries draped elegantly across them are empty.

And in the middle of it all, is the remains of a cargo box.

Noticeably missing the bright green approval mark of An Ding Peak's containment and isolation procedures. Seconds after the shocking sight sets in, Shen Qingqiu rounds a corner and his frantic eyes tell Shang Qinghua everything he needs to know. "YOU!"

"Airplane- it's not- wait! WAIT!" Shang Qinghua excels at surviving, he has a healthy appreciation for not doing anything that puts him at risk. Especially when a certain protagonist is involved.

However. There comes a time in every man's life when he has to throw self-preservation to the wind and let instincts, an animalistic drive for vengeance, take over. This is that time for Shang Qinghua.

He has spent the better part of two months fighting for his life to keep the peaks standing. And he knows, he knows, how this is going to play out once everyone finds out. Yue Qingyuan, OG simp for Shen Qingqiu, will not even give him a slap on the wrist. (He thinks, bitterly, that Shen Jiu never would have let this happen.)

The only justice that will be served here will be at Shang Qinghua's hand. And so. Shang Qinghua tackles Shen Qingqiu.

For two immortal cultivators, their screeches are more suited to an elementary school's play ground. The stars have aligned for Shang Qinghua. He is not immediately murdered by the protagonist.

And so he bleeds every second of life dry to pull at Shen Qingqiu's hair and use that god forsaken fan to punctuate each of his words. "HOW! COULD! YOU!" It's not a question, not at all. "I didn't know!!! We had to leave so quickly!" "WE! HAVE! PROCEDURES!"

“Airplane! Stop! Stop- DID YOU JUST BITE ME?!” He did. He’s not proud of it. But also he kind of is.

The moment he feels the threatening aura of death enter the peak, Shang Qinghua calls on his escape vehicle. “My KING!” Mobei Jun, who has grown progressively desperate for Shang Qinghua’s attention, doesn’t hesitate to rip open a portal to him. Throwing Shen Qingqiu’s fan, and some strands of hair, back at him, he points two fingers to his own eyes and then back at the other transmigrator. “We’re not done here!” Then he steps through the chilling portal back to his room, where he proceeds to curse Shen Qingqiu to all heaven and hell. Mobei Jun, now used to these tirades, waits patiently on the bed for Shang Qinghua to run out of steam. When an appropriate stopping point presents itself, he shrugs off the top layer of his robe and opens holds out his open arms.

Like a moth to the flame, Shang Qinghua immediately changes course to end up in Mobei Jun’s arms. The Northern King forces him to lay down, holding him gently, though just tight enough to apply a comforting pressure. It’s not long before Shang Qinghua’s insults sputter out and he’s simply laying, face deep, against Mobei Jun’s sternum. Enjoying the moment, the demon rybs tiny circles into Shang Qinghua’s lower back until he relaxes further. “Junshang might kill me.”

That was nice while it lasted. Exhaling, Mobei Jun tries to keep the fear from his voice. “Why?“ “I bit Shen Qingqiu during our fight.” Ears twitching, Mobei Jun’s anxiety wars with his jealousy. “Did you break skin?”

Shang Qinghua lifts his head enough to rest his chin in the muscles of his chest instead of between them. The offended huffs of air give him an answer before Shang Qinghua can verbalize it. “I’m mad, not stupid.” Mobei Jun hums in the affirmative and they lay wrapped up in each other a little longer. When the emperor of the demon realm does Not come bursting through the door, he decides to push his luck and kiss and bite at the line of Shang Qinghua’s throat until he’s squirming with interest.

“My- My King!” Shang Qinghua’s heart is beating like a war drum through the artery in his neck, and together with his panting breaths, it’s the sweetest song Mobei Jun has ever heard.

Gaining in confidence at finally having a victory, he slowly worms a clawed hand between the yellow robes of An Ding Peak to massage and pinch at Shang Qinghua’s chest, relishing at how arches into the touch. That same hand starts untying his lover’s belt when Shang Qinghua completely stills.

“No, absolutely not.” Immediately, he retracts his hand and raise his gaze to Shang Qinghua’s panic stricken face. Afraid he’s done something wrong he also stills. “Shang Qinghua…” But Shang Qinghua’s gaze isn’t focused on Mobei Jun, instead it’s trained on the opposite wall.

“Not in my home!“

Shang Qinghua is going to Qi deviate. His leisure house has even more wards against pests than any of the libraries still standing. The only way this, this abomination he created, could have made its way in is if he brought it. From Shen Qingqiu’s infested home.

Scrambling, he tries to pull himself from Mobei Jun’s arms. He can’t- he can’t let this live!! There is too much at stake in his home for the sake of both the cultivation and demon realm. Strong arms only tighten further until he is flaying to get free.

“My King, let-LET GO!! I have- I have to Kill it!! Before it blinks away and it too late-“ It’s teleporting! Aahhh!!! In his struggle, he misses the way Mobei Jun’s pupils, which had been pleasant orbs of black only moments before, snap to the tiniest sliver of darkness. “Shang! Qinghua!”

A furious blast of cold air goes through the room, Shang Qinghua flinches and draws into his king’s chest for protection from the sting of it. A light tapping sound is heard and Shang Qinghua watches as a portal drops the lifeless bodies of four Blinking Silver Crawlers to the middle of his floor. “This is the plague you face?” The disdain, no the loathing, bleeds in Mobei Jun’s voice.

“The great Cang Qiong sect brought to their knees by Starlit Nuisances?” Shang Qinghua shakes from where his eyes remained glued to the immovable pile of insects. “What- no, no these are Blinking Silver Crawlers.” An offended sniff. “Qinghua doubts this King?”

“What! No, no my King of course not!” Rushing to placate Mobei Jun involves a lot of soft petting of his hair and face. “But, uh, what do you mean by… Starlit Nuisances?” “They’re children’s playthings.” They are, apparently, the Northern demon equivalent of rollie pollies.

Shang Qinghua has no choice but to lay there, mouth ajar, while his beautiful king explains that the menace of archivists in the south are nothing more than barometers for demon children’s qi.

His cousins from his mother’s tribe would predict where they would blink to next and open a portal to drop them at another location before they could do so. While the ice demons from his father’s side would create elaborate mazes to watch them escape out of. There is also, apparently, a specific temperature that will kill them instantly. Children would take turns freezing them at colder and colder temperatures until the loser would reach that temperature, finally killing the insect. Morbid but well…demons.

Mobei Jun, quite smugly, informed him that he had been the best at all these games, having always been in perfect control of his qi. Shang Qinghua indulgently nodded along and praised him despite remembering, vividly, the times he had frozen things unintentionally in their youth.

But also, hmm….. Slowly, a plan starts to formulate in his mind and the more he thinks on it, the more feasible it becomes. Shang Qinghua feels a satisfied smile stretch across his face.

Sliding his hands down that firm chest, pausing a moment for a nice long grope, Shang Qinghua pulls in closer as he dips his fingers beneath Mobei Jun’s belt. “My King,” he whispers, “tell me more about your qi control.”

Right before the peak lord meeting is set to start, Shang Qinghua gets one last kiss in and leaves behind a happily purring and disheveled Mobei Jun in his bed. Despite the obvious strain in his legs, there is a spring in his step and he feels the lightest he has in years. Not even Luo Binghe’s glowering face, just outside the door to the meeting, is enough to deter his mood. Well, mostly. “Shang-shishu.” !!!!!!! So he’s not dying anytime soon! Cucumber must feel really, really, guilty. Perfect!

Elated, he grins back at the demon emperor whose life he’s about to ruin and bounces his head in the imitation of a nod. “Luo-shizhi! So good to see you!” When he steps into the meeting, all his sect sibling look various degrees of exhausted. Shen Qingqiu, he notices, has already pulled out his fan to hide behind. A quick glance over at Yue Qingyuan’s smiling, and tired, face tells him everything he needs to know about whether the truth has been revealed. Perfect!!!

Discretely, he sends a hand signal to the An Ding disciples in charge of catering this meeting and waits for them to sign back the affirmative. The leading disciple approaches him with an aid of nervousness and says, loud enough for everyone to hear:

“This disciple regrets to inform Shizun that the kitchen in charge of the meal tonight was also infested and, well, there will be no food for this meeting.” The downcast look of embarrassment deserves a Golden Rooster!! He loves his little scammers!

Paying careful attention to the discontent grumble of his martial siblings, Shang Qinghua squeezes his disciple’s shoulder with one hand, and taps a practiced pattern against it with his fingers. His disciple nods silently.

“This shizun understands, there’s nothing to be done about it! It’s a good thing all peak lords practice inedia.” They do, but everyone prefers to eat when stressed! The deep sighs around him seem to agree.

“Take the rest of the evening off and go get some rest, if the work schedule is correct, I’m certain the disciples beneath you are all on their 15th hour of work cleaning this mess.”

They’re not, Shang Qinghua’s work schedule for disciples has become so elaborate to ensure they weren’t dropping from exhaustion anymore. But the guilty looks of the peak lords around him means they don’t know that.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a jade ring stamped with his seal. “Take this to head disciple Wu and inform her to start Emergency Gold Procedures for tomorrow morning. Any non-essential An Ding disciple is having a late start, we’ll follow up with the rest later after the morning meeting.”

The dramatic gasp his disciple lets out before running off is enough to draw everyone’s attention to him. He’s a little breathless when he says,“Yes Shizun, right away!” Whatever they think is happening is almost certainly wrong.

Emergency Gold Code, as An Ding disciples know, simply means “Shizun is about to spoil you lavishly so be good and be quiet.” It was only partially made up so Shang Qinghua could bribe his disciples into cooperating when in front of non An Ding ears. The other part was an excuse to embezzle-ahem- appropriately distribute sect funds to spoil himself and his disciples. Shang Qinghua may no longer be broke but he’ll never forget what it was like to be the little guy being pushed around! (Though in some ways he still is.)

Yue Qingyuan’s kindly, yet punchable, face is trained on him when he turns around. “Is everything alright, Shang-shidi?” Humming, Shang Qinghua goes to his seat and only winces slightly at having to kneel. Maybe they were too enthusiastic earlier.

“There’s been a development in the case.” The despair in the room is palpable, the last Development In The Case involved losing another two laundry storehouses and a year’s worth of supply of talisman paper. Sealant glue and corks devoured, they also lost a storehouse of wine.

“An Ding Peak has lost five storehouses, three of which provide food for the sect.” They haven’t. Airplane always thought it was a dumb oversight to have the supply guy and money guy be the same person. Yeah he wrote it in, and it’s served him and the OG nicely, but logistically, it makes no sense. “So we will continue rationing procedures until the sect’s quarantine is over.” Hesitant, Qi Qingqi asks, “Shang-shixiong, will the procedures….worsen?”

Looking around the room, he catches the grimaces of several peak lords who were not vigilant in following the pest management system. It is not a coincidence that their food rationing has been more on the bland side of things. Those that did exceptionally well maintaining their logs, and proved to be helpful, and decent to the An Ding disciples during this time, have ended up with what is considered a more normal delivery of food. On the down low, of course. Qi-shimei owes Liu Mingyan her fucking life.

With a genial smile, he says. “No shimei, things will continue as they have been.” Relief washes over her and she nods a thanks. Liu Qingge, who has been bound to the peak until the quarantine lifts, pipes up. “When can we leave?” Which is just what Shang Qinghua needed.

Bai Zhan Peak has been hit especially hard by the flavorless food rationing, a slowdown in repairs and laundry services, the peak quarantines, and the suddenly stab happy An Ding disciples. Wu Zhao has received no less than 6 marriage proposals. She only stabbed four of them too! From what his sources say, the Qiong Ding head disciple started sulking after the second proposal. Oh young love!

So when Shang Qinghua replies, “Soon, shidi.” He is amongst the most eager to sit up at attention. Ever their fearless leader, Yue Qingyuan is the one to ask, “Is An Ding Peak close to solving this matter?”

Shang Qinghua’s smile and tone stay warm, as if nothing can touch him in this moment.

“Yes, Zhangmen-shixiong,” here he pauses for dramatic effect, just long enough to let the peak lords work themselves up. “After finding out the infestation started with Shen-shixiong on Qing Jing Peak, we found the solution shortly after.”

The man in question fans himself faster, eyes darting from peak lord to peak lord, all of which have immediately gone silent. Even Yue Qingyuan’s face looks irritated and strained.

“This is a good reminder that the isolation and containment procedures for new cargo brought to the sect must always be followed. Especially before leaving the item unattended.” And there goes any plausible excuse. The room erupts into chaos.

Peak lords are sprinting over their tables to surround Shen Qingqiu, who keeps frantically looking over at Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan. The sect leader, in all his exhausted glory, remains seated with his eyes close, alternating inhaling and exhaling deeply. He can’t subcome to the desperate silent pleas if he can’t see them! Shang Qinghua’s respect for him raises a few points from the depths of hell it had dropped to during this time.

As the shouts escalate, Shang Qinghua makes his way over to sit next to the first character he ever made for PIDW. The conscious effort he's making to not go defend his favored shidi reminds Shang Qinghua why he liked him so much.

"Zhangmen-shixiong." "Yes, shidi?" "I have some demands." Ah! A sigh so deep from the man who has the weight of hundreds of lives on his shoulders. Shang Qinghua has been fielding all the inner sect complaints but Qiong Ding Peak received all the ones coming from the outside. The quarantine of a great sect is no small deal, especially one as vast as Cang Qiong who's various specialties impact all manner of day to day lives. "Of course, please inform this shixiong how he can help."

He had drafted his list of demands between refractory periods, blissed out and dazed from Mobei Jun's attention, he had let nearly every thought make it onto the list. Even the petty ones. Especially the petty ones.

"The contractor that will be managing the removal of the infestation must be paid out of Shen Qingqiu's personal stipend." Given that he was rich from his husband's side as well, this wasn't the real punishment. "Of course, what else?"

"Shen-shixiong must remain on the peaks to oversee the reconstruction and supervise the contractors." At that, the sect leader finally opens his eyes. Thick brows climbing high on his face. "How long is that expected to take?"

Technically, Mobei Jun could probably take care of it in about 2-3 weeks time if he worked diligently. But the small army of demon children that they will be contracting out to will not have that attention span, and Shen Qingqiu will need time and patience to wrangle them. The rebuilding efforts will take some time too.

"Three to four months at minimum." Yue Qingyuan does nothing to hide the pleased little smile that brings him. A quarter of the year with the Qing Jing Peak lord in house, communicating constantly with Qiong Ding on the state of the recovery.

"This shidi will also be on vacation during that time." The smile drops. Shang Qinghua does everything possible to look into Yue Qingyuan's very soul and communicate how absolutely non-negotiable this is. "Y-yes, that can be arranged. Is there more?" There is.

The sounds of Cucumber trying, and failing, to defend himself in the background is such a sweet sound to hear during their negotiation. That Luo Binghe hasn't come in storming in to massacre them all is telling of the quality of the silencing talismans that An Ding has built around this room.

The other demands they agree on are as follow: 1) Qing Jing Peak’s non-essential requisitions will be de-prioritized for the duration of the recovery period.

2) Shen Qingqiu will also handle the paperwork involved with overseeing the recovery, as well as any other relevant issues that arise during Shang Qinghua’s absence.

3) An Ding Peak disciples will have mandatory rest days every week where no non-essential work will be conducted. Absolutely no off peak labor will be done during these days.

4) Shen Qingqiu will also oversee coordinating the transcription and reproduction of lost library materials, on all peaks.

The Qing Jing Peak lord will be kept so busy, as busy as Shang Qinghua has been, that he's almost certain Luo Binghe will be facing Mobei Jun's recent, sexiled, fate. And none of these issues can be fixed with heavenly demon blood or demonic qi!

Cucumber bro's dejected face as they leave the sect leader's office to finalized the agreement is delicious. Shang Qinghua is committing it to memory and determined to make it worse.

Shang Qinghua entwines his fingers together and brings his hands to oh so casually stretch above his head. "I'm so ready for this vacation!" The half assed grunt he receives is all the conversation he needs. “I'm even going to start this new novel I've been planning."

The crack in Shen Qingqiu’s neck is almost audible with how quickly he snaps to turn to face Shang Qinghua. "Yeah!? Ab-about what?" He hums, dithering a little to draw out the suspense. "An action story, fantasy, or I guess real world in this case?"

So that's what sparkling anime eyes look like on a human face! Cucumber bro's a little breathless when he says, "Do you need a beta reader?"

Putting a hand on his shoulder he says, "Thanks bro!" and when that excited little expression reaches it's peak he says, "But Liu Mingyan already agreed to.”

“What?”

“My King!" The black rift appears and out walks his king, rumpled robes and hickey on full display.God he loves him!

These next few months are going to be amazing and he's not going to be able to walk for most of them if he has anything to say about it. He only feels a little bad at the fate he's leaving his favorite daughter to experience. Luo Binghe is going to be so jealous at how much Cucumber bro is going to pester her. But well, that's not his problem, is it?

#moshang #svsss #svsss fics #an ding peak #shang qinghua #mobei jun #10thmusemoon fics

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melody22222 · 10 months

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Silly Male Yandere x Fem!reader

Summary: After breaking up with your ex for his psychotic behaviors, you managed to go back to your parent's house that they left for you where one night, something really bad happens. (Goofy summary, I'm sorry.)

TW: Yandere/dark themes, violence, stalking, death threats, angst

Word count: 3.1k

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It was the middle of the night when you came back home from the convenience store, holding some yummy snacks for your night planned date with yourself.

Yes, a date with yourself.

You finally accepted the loneliness that you have, and decided to enjoy the company that you had with yourself. Since you couldn’t do anything about it. After breaking up with your ex, you had no one else.

You relieved and set down the keys and bags of snacks on the couch and went upstairs. You were dying to change into your pjs. You cannot wait to just sit down on the couch all night and watch horror movies as you planned.

As you went upstairs, you got to your room that was quite messy but you didn’t care less about it and was just thinking about the break you are going to have in a few moments. You smiled to yourself as you opened the closet and took out the nightwear. You quickly removed your clothes and wore your nightwear.

You went downstairs and grinned to yourself excitedly and jumped a little and clapped your hands like a little child who just got a yes to McDonald’s from their parents. You turned on your TV and sat down on the couch.

You let out the biggest sigh as you felt all the stress go away that your work and boss put into you. You only had one day off every week which annoyed you. You hate your boss so fucking much. You got disgusted as the thought of her came across your mind.

“Ugh, what a bitch.” You thought to yourself, but giggled later on

You put on your favorite movie that you watched like a week ago, you seriously cannot get enough of it. You grabbed your favorite chips that you got and opened it as the movie began, the thought of your boss leaving your mind.

-30 minutes passed by-

You changed your position and now lying down while shoving multiple chips inside your month. Out of nowhere, you hear noises around your bushes that were in front of your house. The curtains are opened so you look outside the area where the noises came. You thought it was just a stray animal searching for food so you ignored it.

Suddenly, a loud thump came outside the same place where the noises came. You sat up quickly and looked outside again. It was pretty dark, the transparent glass can allow anyone to see you from inside. Your breath became shaky and your heart rate was beating so fast as you got up and checked the window from outside. You examined left and right.

Nothing was there, except for the bushes that were dancing around because of the light wind.

You reassured yourself that it was probably nothing. Since it can be just your imagination.

Right?

These past months were a nightmare. You have been trying to get away from your psychotic ex who cannot let go of the fact that you both have been broken up. You are sick of his possessive and stalking behavior and every time you call him out on it, he tells you that this is for your own good and you just forget about it but are still worried.

Cycle repeats.

You have been catching him following you around, watching you, even at your own apartment. He gave you no privacy at all. Every time he catches you talking to someone, whether it was a co worker, a friend, he goes insane. The next day after talking to someone, you never saw them ever again. You were confused as hell.

You moved out of your apartment and moved into your parents’ house after breaking up with him, the only thing that they left for you after they died. But you still lived in the apartment because your workplace was very close to the apartment instead of the house that’s an hour long away from your workplace.

You never mentioned to your ex that you have a house your parents left for you and you thank god every day that you never told him about it.

‘What am I even scared of…’

You walked back and threw yourself back at the couch again, letting out a heavy sigh. You grabbed the bag of chips and began to shove them into your mouth again.

The movie stopped all of the sudden because of the trash Wi-Fi connections you have been having lately. You waited for it to resume but after waiting for minutes, you started growing impatient.

You looked at the router and realized that the Wi-Fi turned off.

‘What the heck?’

You got up and started walking towards the Wi-Fi router but you froze all of the sudden. Your heart starts beating so fast and your palms become sweaty. You could hear outside boots crunching on the grass, walking around the house.

Someone is here.

You couldn’t manage to breathe normally as your breaths began to shake. You sat down on the couch, still frozen and not knowing what to do. You looked around the windows, maybe to see who this person is roaming around your house.

‘Should I call the police? Should I go outside and check? No. No, no, no.’

A loud noise of breaking glass made you flinch so hard. You turned your head around and saw your slide door glass shattered all over the floor. You quickly stood up and began to back away slowly. You saw the boots step inside slowly that you heard a few moments ago.

‘Oh my…god.’

The man looked across you; he placed the hatchet on his shoulder playfully that he broke the glass with a few seconds ago. He removed his black mask and tilted his head a little and smiled at you

“Silas?”

“Oh, my love.” He grinned at me and opened his arms, expecting you to hug him. You looked at him horrified. Still can’t get words out of your mouth.

Silas laughed, amused at your reaction. “Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how long I’ve been looking for you. Why would you run away from me like that, love?” he put his hand on his chest sarcastically, “Why love? After all these times we have been together, you do this to me? I never expected this from you, out of all people.”

“How the fuck did you know where I am? What the fuck do you want? Please just get away from me and leave me alone, I told you it’s over.” You said, almost shouting as your eyes started getting watery.

“Aw love, don’t cry.” He removed his hand from his chest and began walking slowly towards you. You walked back but hit the wall instead. There’s no escape for now.

“It hurts me to see you like this, baby.” He’s standing really close to you now. You didn’t know what to do. Your body is frozen, your legs are weakened. Your heart is beating rapidly, you cannot control your shaky breaths. You felt defeated. You are sobbing and all you could do is look him in the eyes as he’s doing the same.

Silas notices your fear and smiles lightly. He brought his face closer to yours and began to kiss your tears that are slipping down your cheek, he kisses them softly. He hushes you softly and grabs the back of your head and shoves it on his chest. You let it all out.

You couldn’t do anything at this point. He finally got you now, didn’t he?

An idea popped into your mind, you didn’t care if it’s going to work or not. You pushed Silas as hard as you could so that he fell. “You fucking bitch!” He yelled, trying to catch you, but he was too slow from the aftershock of your action, so you managed to run away. You were surprised you managed to give him a beat.

Scared, you didn’t have time to think and rushed upstairs, you wish you didn’t do that and instead went for the front door. But he could have caught you since the front door was locked and he was close to it. Silas followed you and quickened his pace. You will regret doing that.

You went to your bedroom; you had no idea what to do except to lock yourself, preventing him from catching you. How the hell did he know where you were? You knew he was smart, he would find you eventually after escaping from him.

You heard his loud footsteps. You didn’t have a lot of time to lock yourself in the bedroom since he was coming, so you rushed into the bathroom. You tried closing the bathroom door only for it to swing open by Silas; making you fall down the greasy wet floor.

“You stupid fucking whore, oh you will regret that.” He hissed. He grabbed your arms and picked you up from the floor. “Get away from me!” You tried fighting, kicking, pushing and obviously you failed. He pulled you out of the bathroom and pushed you on the bed. He came on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head with his hand as you cried even more of how he is bruising your wrists.

You started getting him on his nerves, “You should be grateful I didn’t cut your fucking throat ever since I got here.” He angrily spat.

“P-please stop, p-please.” You blabbered and choked on your own tears.

“Awe, you want me to stop? Huh?” He whispers. You were shaking your head and crying, trying to get out of his grip. Silas grabbed the back of your head with his other hand and kept pressing his body against yours. “Look at me.” He said in a calm but angry tone, “LOOK AT ME!” He shouted, he gripped your hair. You looked at him in the eyes, many fears formed inside your eyes.

“You know, I’ve really nice to you the moment I got here. Don’t make me angry and do things that you won’t like. You don’t want me to do that now, do you?” He said calmly, his anger died down a bit. You immediately shook your head, the moment he mentioned ‘things’, you got flashbacks of the basement.

Oh god.

The basement.

“Good.” He smiled. You have to escape him. You have too. There’s some way you can get out of his grip and just run away and never look back.

“After trying to find you for months, after cutting everyone’s throat so they could tell me where you were, one of them told me. And I just grabbed a chair and smashed it onto her head.” He starts to laugh at your face loudly. You froze again and your eyes widened at him. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure you’ll see her when we go back to our new home. Her head looks so lovely lying on the shelf, you’ll love it.” He said as he looked into your widened eyes.

New home, that gave you Goosebumps.

He smiled and planted a small peck into your lips.

Silas gets up but quickly grabs your wrist to prevent you from running away from him again. You got up from the bed, still feeling some pain on your wrists. The words he said, still processing in your brain. You were horrified at the way he talked as if this is normal for him. Did he really kill everyone just to find where you were? You didn’t have time to think when he grabbed your other wrist and planted a soft kiss on it. He kissed the other one as well.

Silas looked at your eyes and smiled again.

“God, how did I land on something so precious and delicate?” He said, still looking at you. He removed his hands from your wrists and grabbed both of your cheeks with his hands.

You really were so precious and delicate. An angel, just for him.

“I can’t wait to go home with you, love.” He grabbed your hand now and started leading you out of the bedroom. He’s still keeping a close eye on you. “You don’t need to take your stuff; I’ve already prepared everything in our new home.”

New home, you hear it again.

Your heart was still beating so fast, afraid of what he might do next. You both went downstairs; Silas was still gripping your wrist strongly. He went to the slide door and picked up his hatched that he broke the glass with, should’ve moved into a new country instead of here now thinking about it.

He zipped his backpack open with his hand and picked out some rope.

‘Oh no.’ you thought.

“Give me your hands, love.” He said as he let go of your hand, cutting your thoughts. You almost followed his order until you saw the lamp that was next to you, sitting on the table near the stairs. Silas was busy unfolding the ropes, so you had the chance. You quickly picked up the lamp and hit him on the face, not the head but THE face.

Silas fell on the floor, “Not the face… BITCH NOT THE FUCKING FACE YOU PIECE OF BITCH TRASH.” He yelled. Silas put a hand on his face and removed it where you hit him to see if there's blood, there was nothing but he still didn’t go unconscious.

Maybe you should have hit him harder.

You ran to the kitchen and opened one of the drawers, you grabbed a kitchen knife as quickly as you could. Then, you ran to the living room but noticed him getting up, giving you a death glare.

Oh, what have you done…

You grabbed the front door keys that were sitting on the coffee table. You quickly shoved the key inside the door lock and twisted it the first time. You were about to twist it open the second time until you heard footsteps coming closer. You turned around to face him and held a knife in front of him.

“Get away from me, get away!” You cried, feeling so weak. You probably won’t even cut or stab him if he gets close.

“Baby, why don’t you put that knife away before you end up hurting yourself and just come to me. I’ll take you away, far away from stress and life,” He asks and looks at you in awe. Mesmerized

“I’d rather plunge the knife into my heart.” You hiccuped.

His face became poker and looked down at the floor, sighing.

“Let’s take a heavy breath, love. Like we used to before. Inhale and exhale. All right?” He asked, still remaining calm after you just freaking hit him on the head with a lamp.

“Just stop… or else.”

“Or else what? You gonna stab me?”

You went silent.

You couldn’t open the door, you knew he would catch you. So the only thing you did was just threaten him with a knife. You held the knife higher at him.

Silas looked at you from the floor and chuckled, “Alright then, since you wanna hold that knife on me,” He began to step closer, being closer to your body now. You were still holding the knife on his face, looking directly at him. Feeling brave for the first time.

He brought his face closer to the knife, a cold knife hitting his warm skin. “Why don’t you stab me then, finish me off.” He said confidently, looking directly back at you in the eyes, smirking.

And all that bravery you thought you had, wiped away with a single wipe.

Your hands were shaking, you couldn’t control your breath. You didn’t know what to do. But you sure knew you would be terrified if you gave him a slight cut on the skin.

Instead, your cries escalated. Looking down in shame. You can’t, you just can’t. Silas laughs at your pathetic cries. He took the knife out of your hands and threw it aside. “Weak. Small. Fragile. That’s why you need me, love. You need me, just let me take care of you.” He cups your cheek and then grabs your chin to look at him.

Maybe…

Just maybe.

Maybe he was right. This job is exhausting you, and you were lucky you were able to pay the water and electricity bills for the first month but it got worse. You’ll eventually end up in the dark with no water. But again, no matter how hard things get, you can’t go back to him. You will always fear this man. Even a slight touch he gives you makes you flinch, you will always get nervous and tremble around him. That’s how powerful Silas Rafael was.

“Okay…” Is all you could get out of your pouty small mouth.

“Good. Don’t ever do that again, you don’t wanna see my bad side again, do you love?”

You shook your head.

“Now come on, let me tie you and don’t try anything. I’m warning you.”

He became stern all of the sudden.

Silas goes again to the slide door where his bag is near, holding your hand. He picks the rope off the floor, keeping an eye on you. You didn’t dare to do anything after what you just did. He starts tying your wrists. He saw the discomfort in your eyes.

“Is it too tight?”

You shook your head again.

He took out a piece of cloth from his bag and put it around your mouth, you almost gagged.

He grabbed your face gently which made you flinch a little. “We can finally go home now.” He said as he caressed your face. He pulls you into a hug. You closed your eyes and leaned on his chest.

Despite how psychotic Silas was, his warmth was one of the many favorite things about him. He would hug you whenever you cried, felt alone, sick, he would get sick with you. He feels alive whenever he’s with you, maybe that's why he couldn’t let you go.

“This is gonna hurt a little.” He said. You felt a sharp pain on your neck making you squeal painfully but it was muffled, feeling something going inside you. You gripped his shoulder with your tied hands, squeezing it. You look where you felt the horrible pain, you’ve been injected with a needle syringe.

Silas shushed you softly, “It’s okay, love. You won't feel anything after this. You will go to sleep, I’ll take care of you.”

Oh god.

To your surprise, you kind of trust him. After everything that happened tonight and everything he said, why would he do something out of your league?

It hit you more quickly than you thought. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. You put your head on his shoulder and the last thing you heard before drifting off…

“Sleep well, my love.”

#yandere #love #obsessive yandere #yandere core #fluff #angst #reader #yandere x reader #fem reader #male yandere #oneshot #drabble #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere oneshot

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