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dixondystopia · 3 months

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From the Forest: Part 3

Masterlist

~Ah yes, angst~

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

Word count: 2,345

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

Just a nightmare… Simple as that...

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

Snap.

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

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

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

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

Daryl nods, walking over to his own tent.

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

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

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

You shrug. “Just…” You hesitate.

It was a long moment before either of you spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl grunts. “Basterds.”

You nod. “Basterds is right.”

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

“Ya should get some sleep,” Daryl mutters.

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

Silents.

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

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

Daryl watches you in silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You watched him for a moment before approaching.

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “Just coming to chat.”

“Don’t wanna chat.”

“I noticed.”

“Then why are ya still botherin’ me.”

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He continued to stare you down over his shoulder.

“People have hurt you… Haven’t they…”

Daryl turned around, walking towards you a few steps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. “You still wanna learn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stopped walking to the woods with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Hope you're enjoying the series!~

Masterlist

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

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 3 months

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hi! can i request a beth harmon x fem reader please? just this sort of sweet moment between them where all the stress from the tournaments and everything that’s been happening melts away and everything is okay because they’re together.

i can never find any good fics of her and i love all the stuff you’ve written so i got really excited when i saw her on your list!

thank you so much!! ❤️

Thank you for requesting beth ❤🥺

My girl

Beth Harmon x fem!reader, reader is an author

Set before Russia, just a slice of life type fic

Warnings: some swearing

You drop your keys on the counter, taking your time to slowly toe your shoes off, watching Beth walk into the living room and settle in an armchair.

She'd been a little... distant at dinner, not fully tuned in, in a way you know she'd never be on purpose. The tournament stress is clearly sinking into her.

You turn on the Christmas lights you'd kept up, for months after the holiday season, opting to turn off the ceiling lights and let the fairy light glow filter through the room.

"Beth?"

She turns her head to you as you bend down beside the couch, perching your chin on the sofa arm to look up at her.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly.

Beth lets out a breath, shifting and stretching her legs out behind her. "Paris, Borgov, ...losing, and losing like that." She plays idly with your hands as she speaks. "Jolene's money, your money. Benny hating me."

She shakes her head. "I should've just said yes to those Christian funders."

You squeeze her hands. "Beth, it's okay. First of all, Jolene gave you that money out of her own free will. She wants you to go to Russia. And me? I just sold two stories to that publishing agency, remember? The money will come back. And... true friends always come back. So Benny'll be back, just give him time to cool off."

You move up to the armchair, Beth's soft giggle ringing as you huff and squish yourself into the clearly-meant-for-one-person armchair beside her.

"We're going to Russia," you tell her. "And," you drop a kiss on the tip of her nose. "You're gonna rip the board right out from under Borgov's sad little king."

Beth laughs, shaking her head. "I've gotta get through all the other Russians first."

"Fuck 'em. You're gonna take home the whole damn tournament."

She cups your cheek in one hand, tilting your head up to press a kiss to your lips. "Yeah, fuck 'em."

You slide out of her arms, grinning at the pout she gives as you stand up from the armchair. It's your favourite thing, being able to see all the cute little expressions and actions she doesn't show outside.

"I'm coming back," you promise. "I'm making tea."

"You're amazing," she says, smiling at you over the top of the chair.

You smirk. "I know. Music?" The radio crackles to life as you turn it on, recognising an song you know Beth loves, and you grin to yourself as she slowly rises from the armchair.

You sway slightly along with the song beat as you fill the kettle and search for your teabags, watching Beth dance her way towards you, holding up her closed fist as a microphone.

"What- can- make- me- feel this way," she punctuates each word with a dramatic movement.

You grin, knowing what's next.

"My girl..." Beth points her arm straight out at you, singing each harmony. She makes her way into the kitchen, looping an arm over your shoulder and kissing your cheek. "Talkin' 'bout my girl."

"Oh my god, this is boiling water, Beth."

"My girl!"

You shake your head, grinning. She's undeterred. You pour milk in with the tea, and toss in a little spoon of sugar.

Beth reaches out as you pass the cup to her. "Thank you," she says softly, smile crinkling her eyes.

You take a sip from your cup. "Anything for my girl."

You move back into the living room, Beth disappearing off somewhere.

"Y/n!"

You turn and see her holding up your book, which you'd just gotten properly printed.

"Can you read it to me?"

You take the book from her. "Haven't you already read most of it?"

Every chapter you'd write, she'd read. Beth was the first person to see the plot unfolding in your head, storylines stretching out and forming together. You'd sit there, clicking sounds ringing as you typed, and Beth would play chess games against herself as she waited for you to finish the next page.

You pull the paper out of the typewriter, the fresh ink allowed to rest on the table for just a second, before it's snatched up by Beth, eager to read after a new revelation on the previous page.

"Holy shit, Y/n."

"What?"

"That's genius."

You smile. "You think?"

"Yeah..." she trails off, eyes flicking across and down the page as she reads.

"Wait... fuck." She blinks up at you, evidently having finished the page. "What happens after?"

"You know it's gonna take like at least an hour for the next page right?"

Beth huffs. "Can't you just tell me? I know you already planned it out."

"Nope," you say, snorting as she groans into the couch.

Beth flops into the sofa beside you. "I mean, I know the story but I haven't read it all together and finished. Please, Y/n?"

She turns her sweetest expression on you, and you fold immediately.

"Fine, fine, sure," you say, setting down your tea. You settle into the couch, pulling your legs up beside you, then you open the book.

Beth nudges your foot, and you look up. "Thank you," she says. "I love you."

You smile. "Love you too."

I'm writing the requests a little out of order just getting any of the older ones out first. Short fic today but loved writing the fluff :))))

#the queen's gambit #queen's gambit #beth harmon x reader #beth harmon #my writing

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im-immortal · 3 months

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Small Miracles

Beth Greene is not dead. Though it is not for a lack of trying.

After eight long years spent in the CRM's grasp, struggling to find reasons to continue surviving, Beth finally finds her reason: Rick and Daryl are alive, and they are closer than she ever could've guessed. Now she must take advantage of her only opportunity to escape and track them down.

Along the way, she revisits all of the places that changed her into who she has become. And she is forced to remember who she truly is at heart despite how unrecognizable she finds herself.

But she has an unexpected ally along for the journey. Just the same as her, he is somewhat of a living miracle. Except he's no longer living... he's a walker.

Chapter 17 // Part 9: Grady Memorial Hospital

There is still plenty of evidence of the mass bombings that occurred right after The Turn, but more than that, there is evidence of time and weather eating away at everything. Nature is reclaiming what has been abandoned by humans. The once-pristine buildings are now covered in sprawling ivy and patches of moss, the neatly-manicured parks and lawns are overgrown and flowing out into the streets. There are flowers and lush green plants everywhere. The trees have grown taller, larger, more formidable than ever before. Strange fungi sprout up in even stranger places. Birds fly overhead, flocking from one tree to the next, making nests in the ledges of shattered windows and calling out to one another. Beth spots stray cats and wild dogs darting from one dark place to another, no longer accustomed to the presence of living humans and wary of the very sound, hiding away as soon as she rounds a corner or takes a step in their direction. There are field mice, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, and even deer in places where, a decade ago, they would’ve never dared tread. At one point, Mae stops and lets out a little gasp. Beth whips her head around, expecting the worst, but only finds Mae turning to her with a wide smile on her face. She holds out one hand and Beth sees multiple ladybugs crawling across her skin from where she reached into an overgrown patch of leaves stretching out from the shattered window of a convenience store. “Look at ‘em!” Mae whispers loudly, her eyes filled with wonder as she watches the ladybugs crawl up and around her wrist and lower arm, some of them getting caught on the edges of her long sleeve. Beth feels something twist inside her chest. A memory flashes through her mind very briefly: a single ladybug settled on a leaf, crawling onto her finger as she patiently waited and gazed at it with a dream-like wonder. The first thing to bring a smile to her face in many days. Gale says, “A sign of good luck.” Mae carefully brushes the insects off her skin and back to the leaves they occupied. “Let’s hope so.” Beth doesn’t say anything, but she most certainly agrees. Only a couple of hours after noon, with the sun high in the sky and beating down upon them, they reach Grady Memorial Hospital. Beth stands in the middle of the street and stares up at the burnt-out shell of what was once a grand building. She does not dare circle around to the other side, already well aware of what awaits her there: the various abandoned cars, one of which she had been laid to rest in by her own family. She doesn’t even know if that car is still there. She doesn’t want to know.

#bethyl fanfiction #beth greene lives #team delusional #beth and daryl #beth greene #daryl dixon #beth greene and daryl dixon reunion #season 9 canon-divergent #civic republic military #gleen rhee's sister #za #mc wip #twd grady #mc fic #original characters #my fic: small miracles #SquishyCool

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westcoastcreative · 2 years

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Quotas

My latest E-rated Brio fic, also posted on AO3. I’m pretty happy with the way this one turned out. Please let me know what you think of it if you’re so inclined. Take good care!

Characters: Beth x Rio

Summary: Someone’s gotta hold Beth accountable for keeping the late night meetings they both know she’ll need to maintain to keep herself and her constituency happy.

Word Count: 4,008

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: (What I think is pretty freaky?) smut, marijuana use (Beth is more of a weed connoisseur in my fics than you think she would be.)

Beth had just poured herself a glass of Cabernet after returning home from a long and tense city council meeting when she remembered: Rio had texted her just before the meeting and she’d been so caught up on how one of the night’s votes was going to go that she never responded.

She opened her texts and selected his from the few at the top.

Give ‘em hell, sweetheart. he’d written, knowing there was a vote taking place that could benefit their business interests but that the opposition wasn’t going to back down easily.

Thankfully she’d swayed enough of her fellow councilmembers with projected revenues and homemade pastries to ensure that what she and Rio wanted transpired in council chambers on that mildly cool Tuesday night.

I did. she texted back simply and directly from her seat on her couch four hours later.

Good. Rio texted back immediately.

Beth took a long, slow sip of her wine and sat back, wondering where Rio was texting her from. What he might be in the middle of in that moment, at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday night.

She herself was alone, the kids with Dean that week — she’d have them on the weekend and into the following.

It couldn’t have been three minutes later when Beth felt her phone vibrate under her fingers again, signaling Rio wasn’t going to wait on her.

Now on to the next order of business. his subsequent text read.

Beth smiled to herself.

What’s that? she responded quickly, letting Rio know he had her attention.

I need to get my face between your thighs, Elizabeth.

Beth’s breath caught in her throat when she read it, her core tingling with an ache she knew was only going to get worse the longer this texting conversation went on.

Again Rio didn’t wait for her to text back.

Beth’s lips moaned against her glass when she saw what he sent next:

Need my hands on that creamy skin and perfect fat ass, councilwoman.

Yeah… she acknowledged.

You know us public servants have quotas to meet. He teased.

Oh, you do? she quickly fired back.

Yes. he wrote. Mine’s making you come at least two times a week, boss.

Beth let a pleased noise immediately roll up from the back of her throat at that.

She double clicked on his words to love his most recent message.

Again Rio took it right from there to where he wanted it to go next:

So what do you say? Can I come through?

Beth laughed to herself and took a smaller sip of the rich red wine before moving her fingers to quickly text him back.

Mhm. Bring that good weed? she sent first, then fired off another:

And stay long enough to get me off a few times? I need it.

I know you do, mama. I got you.

Two minutes later he added:

Be there in 15. And though she was still curious about where he was coming from — what the power of their always heated, undeniable connection was pulling him away from — it really didn’t matter. Rio had an allegiance to their fire and was determined to feed the flame.

She’d definitely be letting him manage up when it came to this.

Rio’s teeth pinned down the inside of his bottom lip and he inhaled fully as the G Wagon neared Beth’s neighborhood under the still darkening sky.

He parted his lips to release the charged air from his lungs and pressed a thumb into the volume controls on the steering wheel. When his sound system was at just the permeating but not overpowering volume he wanted, he reached for his phone to select the song he’d found making him think about Elizabeth lately.

A slow tinny, synthetic beat ushered a high pitched melodic male voice onto the track. It started with a chorus about being lonely, hoping he’d hear from her. Wanting and needing her, no games attached.

The beat sped up and became a bit more complex when the voice rapped:

Pullin' up, yeah you know I won't be late Pussy actin' up yeah you know it's gon' behave

Rio knew the part that painted a picture of Beth in the throws of need for him the most vividly in his mind was a few lines away. And then it hit his ears.

Her pussy get wetter for me for me like it knows my face She ride it until she cumming make my nose ring break Said when they hit it, make her feel like she got no spring break I hit it until the box, without no springs break

And yeah, that was what he did to her. What she made him do, he thought with a frustrated appreciation as he let the song conclude and transition on to another. What he was about to do so much more of.

He and Beth had made do a few times since their reacquaintance with physical intimacy against his grandma’s bookshelf, but never with enough space or time to themselves to take her to her limits.

He needed to hear how beautifully out of control she could cry for him when his tongue and fingers were inside her. Then he needed to hear her cries get even sweeter and more desperate when he stretched, filled and fucked her — hard and relentless — with his cock.

That’s what was on their agenda for the night ahead.

The role of City Councilwoman Boland’s associate required him to define the agendas for their meetings often. She was just so busy. He understood precisely why she trusted him to take the lead when it came to this side of their business. He was the expert when it came to getting her off, after all.

Rio parked a few houses down and pulled out what he needed to roll a few joints per Beth’s request.

That pussy ready, councilwoman? he texted with a smug smile on his face as he finished rolling up the final one.

Rio was securing his gun inside the G Wagon’s dash, poised to grab his stuff and hop out, when his phone vibrated against the center console.

The screen lit up with notice of a text received from E, the digital label he’d settled on for Elizabeth many moons before, but one still fitting of their relationship — private and somehow personal despite so much still unsaid and unknown. About one another. About if they’d be on the same page long enough this time to go any deeper — somehow find more trust, more truth — than all the times before.

Mhm. Beth had texted back coyly.

Rio raised a brow and leaned his body back into his seat, waiting for the three flashing gray dots to appear signaling a follow-up.

I’m out back. she sent seconds before his pent up need for her — open to him completely; unbothered by anything besides his touch; all his — escalated.

When his eyes located her, seated to one side of the patio table’s bench in a red floral silk robe, her firm bare legs crossed tightly and a half-full wine bottle on the table next to her, Rio felt a greedy sound vibrate at the base of his throat.

“Hey now,” he voiced easily, causing her profile to turn and face him.

Beth smiled in a way that instantly told Rio she was tired but happy to see him.

“Hi.” Her teeth shined brightly from behind lipstick- and wine-stained lips, and as Rio came closer, he saw her eye makeup was smudged, too.

He felt his cock throb at the unfairly fuckable look of her appearance.

Rio sat down an arms length away from her — wanting to take this appointment nice and slow — and watched Beth’s manicured fingers (red — of course they had to be a deep, intoxicating red along with all the other swaths of color calling his eyes to them from against her seashell-colored skin) hold up her near-empty glass as she let out a sigh.

Her sigh sounded to him like one she’d been waiting to release until he was in earshot. Like she’d held onto it long enough to give him an accurate estimation of how much tension she was needing to release with his skillful help.

Rio reached for the bottle and refilled her glass. When his black denim jacket-clad forearm neared the table as he set the bottle back down, Beth reached out and wrapped her fingers around it, squeezing and holding it there until he looked up at her.

“Thanks for following up on… this,” she said in a low voice as she gestured into the space between them with the hand that held her wine.

Rio laughed that devilish, cocky, impossible-not-to-drive-her-crazy laugh Beth had come to yearn for.

“Followin’ up on me hittin that pussy right for you, mami?”

He noticed Beth’s thighs clench together more tightly and her eyes widen as she swallowed a gulp of wine and nodded.

Rio laughed again, this time only loud enough for her to hear. He fished one of the joints from his pocket and pressed it between his lips, then moved his hand to grasp her topmost thigh, his eyes willing her to part them for him.

She did.

Rio dipped his hand between them and purred when he found her naked beneath the robe and short nightgown he could see layered below it. He ran a finger up her slit before pressing the flats of two fingers down against her hooded clit, causing Beth to whimper and lightly shake.

“I told you, mamita,” he whispered as he began to add slow, circular motions to his touch. “I got you.”

Rio’s hand retreated from between Beth’s legs after a few more practiced presses on the outside of her clit and a single teasing poke with the tip of his finger into her tight, already sticky wet center. His quickening desire to push two deep inside her and promptly crook them to hear her ladylike moan and enraptured squelch was tempered by willpower when something reminded him: He wanted to take this slow.

Hint of a ruffled pout aside, Beth understood the intention behind Rio’s pull back and slowly recrossed her legs as she straightened her robe on her shoulders to let him know.

Rio’s lips stayed closed around the joint but upturned in just the slightest when his eyes smiled at her appreciatively. They read each other so well.

“Glad to see you’re celebrating. You deserve it.” he praised, the pronunciation of the words bent choppily by his still pinched lips. He pulled a black lighter from his pocket and lit the joint, hands interlacing together on the top of the table as he repositioned his body to face her house.

Beth gazed at Rio’s profile for a beat before returning her bleary eyes to the freshly manicured backyard. He handed her the burning cigarette and she brought it to her faded red lips to inhale before quietly thanking him.

Damn, she really was worn out this week.

“You wanna talk about how it went tonight?” his head turned to look her way again.

“It went…” she stopped as the thin smoke dissipated in front of her face, still staring out onto the lawn. Beth was most wound up from the half hour closed-door part of the meeting Rio was referring to — one spent defending her positions amongst the few stodgy old men who’d long maintained a hold on Detroit’s city politics and did not want her shaking anything up.

“It went how I thought it was going to go.”

Rio nodded with an understanding smile at the relatability of her description.

“How are you?” she quickly followed up, then took a fuller second drag of the joint before she could nervously blurt anything else out. Only hanging there between the two of them would that casual question take on such uncomfortable novelty.

Still, Beth really did want to know.

The breathiness of Rio’s surprised laugh could be heard bouncing off his teeth at the question. His eyes closed, eyelashes resting against the apples of his cheerfully surprised cheeks, before they slowly swept open to regard her again.

“You asking me how I am now, Elizabeth?”

“Yeah,” she said simply without further explanation and passed the marijuana back. The gray blue of her eyes was illuminated with waning visibility by the few lights on in the house as the night turned black.

Rio surrendered easily to his care for Beth, and to how long he’d been waiting to have commonplace conversations like this with her. He was glad he was taking this slow tonight, wondered what other unexpected gifts might come of that approach.

“Been handling our shit,” he smiled before bringing the joint back to his plump, pink lips.

“You really are so great at that,” she flirted with the most lively expression Rio had seen grace her face so far.

“I know,” he smirked, suggestive and sweet.

Comfortable pauses were interspersed between short pieces of what came to be an easy exchange after that. They passed the joint back and fourth, catching each other’s eyes every so often in the quiet moments.

“How’s Marcus?” Beth dared to go deeper once they’d finished the joint.

Previous versions of Rio would have told Beth Marcus was none of her business, or simply denied the response to a question from her on the subject. For a long time, he felt like she didn’t deserve to know. Not after all she’d done.

That mindset had shifted as of late.

“He’s real good,” Rio answered with a flash of his wide, beautiful-toothed smile. “Drivin me crazy askin ten times a day when soccer’s gonna start again…” he laughed with a small shake of his head.

“Oh, Jane, too,” Beth turned so her body was angled toward Rio’s.

As repetitive as Marcus’ questions about it got, Rio really couldn’t wait for the season to start up, either. Not only was it a great outlet for his son’s boundless energy, it also added more appointments to his calendar that included Elizabeth.

Rio placed a hand on Beth’s thigh at the thought.

“You gonna invite me inside, boss?” he squeezed.

Reaching for his hand and moving it back to the top of his own leg, Beth stood up. She grabbed the wine bottle with one hand and ran her palm across the top of Rio’s back with the other as she crossed the lawn behind him.

Her hand grasped his bicep when she’d made her way around him — a brief touch — then she was on her way to the steps leading to her bedroom’s French doors.

“C’mon, you,” her answer made his ears prickle with heat.

Rio watched her ass wiggle as she strode, standing up quickly to follow.

“Whatever you need, councilw—.” He stopped himself, wanting to address who she was completely, not just tease about one interesting dynamic of her currently.

”Whatever you need, Elizabeth.”

“My gosh, I’m so exhausted I forgot the glass,” Beth exhaled sharply as she plopped down onto the ottoman at the foot of her bed, raising the wine bottle she’d purposively carried inside by its neck.

The breath behind Rio’s soft laugh could be heard moving from his nose out of his mouth, his eyes on Beth — already comfortably curled up in her seat below his tall, standing form.

He lowered himself down to sit across from her, leaving his layers of clothing and black and white Jordans in tact.

“Since when you mind your manners with me?” Rio took the bottle from her grip and brought it to his lips to take a throat-warming drink of Beth’s dry red wine of preference.

When he moved the bottle away from his face to pass it back, Beth saw an open, almost cheerful expression behind it, softened with earnestness in the mellow light of her bedroom.

“So I guess we’re going to be seeing more of each other,” Rio stifled the urge to reach out and run his fingers down her cheek, neck, décolletage; across her shoulder to her upper arm — opting to let his eyes roam slowly along that path instead.

“Are we?” Beth’s brow quirked slightly, so tired his simple logic didn’t immediately occur to her.

“Yeah, baby girl,” Rio’s eyes raised to meet hers again, “You finalized your first big contract on behalf of the city today. And your boy here is gonna make sure the job gets done for you.”

Rio’s tongue swiped at his lower lip, then he bit down on it, eyebrows raised.

Of course. she remembered. Damn, his weed was good.

Everything about him was good.

Beth’s round face and dimly sparkling eyes both rolled in playful embarrassment as if to say ‘Duh!’ With one more sip at the wine bottle she emptied it, reaching down to tuck it safely beneath the ottoman.

“Gonna want to be kept updated on my progress, I’d assume?” Rio kept his focus on her face despite the neckline of her nightie pulled lower when she sat back up.

Beth hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, having been focused on getting through that night’s meeting and successfully getting the project approved in the days and weeks leading up. She was in no rush to figure out what came next with accomplishing the specifics of what she’d proposed. Hell, she might take the rest of the week off before she even started considering all that. Maybe Rio would stay in bed with her the whole next day and help her get her vacation started. Then help her start to piece this plan together after their other, more personal quotas had been met.

“Did you want me to stop by your office to check in or just um…” he smirked and glanced at Beth’s neatly made bed, then back at her soft, sleepy bust, oblivious to the separate reverie dancing within her pretty strawberry blonde head.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” she broke the physical distance, placing a hand on his knee.

Rio’s smirk lingered on his full lips. “Of course, darlin.” He scooted in an inch closer. “Always happy to brief you in bed the morning after these meetings, too.”

Beth laughed, leaning into his space. “Thank you for your flexibility.”

Rio finally shrugged off his jacket and reached his large palms out to grasp her soft cheeks.

“Now tell me what you need from me tonight, boss.”

Beth let her eyes close and her face melt into Rio’s warm palm, humming comfortably before her lashes batted open and she answered.

“I’ve been thinking about riding your face.”

Rio watched the words fall from her doll-like lips, a growl rising from his diaphragm. “Mmm… you know I been thinkin bout that, too.”

He brought his thumb down to her lips and Beth began to suck at the top of it, pale eyes wide and wondering.

Wondering how he was going to take her further over the edge of that ever-extending cliff tonight, deeper into the depths of what lie between them.

“That what you wanna do right now, Elizabeth? Ride my face?” Rio dropped his moist thumb from her mouth to trace the neckline of her nightie.

Beth paused, considering, her voice and eyes lower when she spoke. She was drained, but she always had energy to play with him. “Is that what your ledgers tell you we’re due for?”

Rio chuckled, beginning to trail his index finger below the silk, down her breastbone, his eyes serene but tempted.

“Whatever you want to get into would help our numbers, darlin, but my analysis says our most advantageous move would be…” he cleared his throat, his hand coming back up and same finger nudging a few faint wisps of hair off of her forehead, “…letting me take care of you and worry about the math later.”

“Please.” Beth brought a hand up to slip her robe off of her shoulders, sucking in her bottom lip. Her hand at his knee inched higher. “Do you what you need to, Rio.”

He nodded, grateful for the surrender of a bit of all that control she clung to so tightly. His fingers ran down her arms and laced both of her hands in his.

“I need you to turn off that beautiful, smart-as-hell brain of yours for me, Elizabeth.”

He watched her register the accolade and breathe in deeply.

“Can you do that?” he rasped with a squeeze at her hand.

She nodded.

“Just let go,” Rio’s deep voice soothed without a scratch, his hands guiding her hips to scoot back onto the bed.

He pushed the bottom of her silk nightie up as his head chased her bare pelvis backward, his tongue and front teeth crashing into her pussy lips when Beth’s back hit the headboard.

“Rio!” she gasped, surprised by how quickly this was moving after he’d paced the preceding 45 minutes so slowly.

Rio flattened his tongue against Beth’s peach pink inner labia as his hands came under her ass to give him better access to her other delicate hole. He spit on his index finger and brought it down to drag it around the rim of her asshole, his mouth returning to suck at her pussy while the tip of his nose nuzzled her clit. Beth felt the stubble on Rio’s cheeks grating the inside of her thighs so hard it started to sting.

Her torso arched up from the bed, drawn out cries unaffected by any sense of politeness, body too worn out to censor itself.

All she wanted was more of the exact same combination of sensations.

His index finger tentatively poking into her tight asshole, the suck of his mouth getting deeper and tighter around her intricate womanhood, pulling back his tongue but leaving the slightest bit of teeth to grazingly bite at her pussy. The hand not fingering her anus came up to press its palm at her clit at just the right angle, then began to rock slowly. All three at once made her insides quake and suddenly there was liquid pouring from her, into his mouth, onto his chin, dripping onto her duvet cover.

“That’s it, you fucking goddess,” Rio growled from below her. “Let your body do what it was made to, baby. Don’t hold back.”

He lapped at her pussy from top to bottom one last time before sitting up, resituating his hands to make her body squirt more cum the way he knew at that point he could.

He slipped two fingers inside of Beth’s wet center and allowed his pinky to begin teasing her asshole. Gently but quickly he began to pick up the pace of his hand, fingering her with model double penetration skills.

She was right, he was an expert at this.

“I’m gonna need you to squirt for me again, baby girl.” Rio’s free hand came up to wrap around her neck.

Beth’s eyes widened, disbelieving she could do that again when she had had no control over the first one.

This was all him, but she knew he knew it.

His fingers pushed deeper, his movement getting faster and harder. Rio raised her mouth to kiss her before dropping her back down onto the bed and pressing at her clit again. He could feel that she was seconds away from another, longer release.

“Let go…” he coached lovingly, darkest brown eyes worshiping her with her nightie up above her navel and her flushed face about to sob the last of the day’s pressure out, too. “Just like that…. Let go… I got you.”

And he did.

He had her.

It was the only thought left in her mind before she convulsed into another heavy spray.

Rio took his fingers out to rub her pussy in wide circles, her juices spraying everywhere. He smiled as if she’d just reached a new height in the expression of her sexuality — such an ideal match for his; dove deeper into the depth of their connection.

“That’s it, mama. I got you.”

Something told her he always would.

(Lyrics quoted are from “Phone Me” by Che Ecru.)

#brio #brio fanfic #brio fanfiction #brio fic #beth x rio #rio x beth #brio smut #rio good girls #nbc good girls #manny montana smut #manny montana fanfic

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dixonlvr-online · 1 year

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Day 6: Blankets

Day 6/28

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, minor angst

Summary: Daryl and Reader share a guard tower shift on a freezing night. Talk turns to the future.

advent calendar masterlist

“Cookie?”

Daryl turned sharply, your voice startling him from his thoughts. You held up the treat in your hand, watching his face clear with realization.

“Thought ya were callin’ me Cookie for a second,” he said, accepting your offering and moving over so you could sit beside him.

“Oh I was. How’s your day been, Cookie?”

He scoffed, that playful smirk you loved brightening his features. You tried to suppress your own smile at the sight, turning your gaze to the view instead. There wasn’t much to see in the dark, but you could hear the trees rustling from wind and walkers pushing on the fence. On nights like these it was quiet, aside from your own pounding heartbeat. Once upon a time you hoped it would steady the more time you spent with the mysterious loner, but you’d found that the more you got to know him, the louder your heart beat in his presence.

Especially when he was sitting this close to you. Electricity crackled in the space between your arms, like they were magnets begging to touch. You never dared bridge the gap…but the night air was especially cold tonight. You felt yourself shivering against your will, trying to contain the movements so as not to humiliate yourself in front of him. But you forgot, this is Daryl, and he knew cold was your weakness. He also knew when you were trying to hide something from him.

Sucking the cookie crumbs from his fingers (God, the sight almost expelled all the cold from your body), he leaned over to grab something. A moment later, his strong arms were wrapping a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it providing immediate comfort. You sent him a smile in thanks. Even without saying the words aloud, you saw him shrugging them off. Just like him to take his thoughtful gestures and make them seem like nothing.

“The decorations are nice,” he said, clearing his throat in a way that seemed almost…nervous. “I mean, I don’t see the point of ‘em, but they look nice. Ya did a good job.”

You bit back a grin, his attempt at a compliment highly amusing. “Oh yeah? Maybe I should get more…”

“Nah. We’ve got more ‘an enough,” he cut in. This time you laughed, which seemed to loosen him up a bit. As your laughter faded back into quiet, you could feel him weighing out a question in his mind. Giving him a pointed look, he finally spit it out.

“Why’d ya do it? Decorate, I mean. Ain’t exactly got holiday cheer in there.”

You considered his question, formulating a way to answer. “Well, on a lighter side, I wanted to liven the place up a bit. Maggie and Beth and Carol all seemed interested, too, so it worked out that way,” you said, shifting to face him as you spoke. He’d turned to face you as well, giving you and your words his undivided attention. His eyes were always so piercing when he listened, it exhilarated you.

“And on the heavier side?” he asked. You averted your eyes to the fence again, where the undead still clung to your walls. It bothered you, seeing them all the time. They were just another reminder that no matter how secure you felt here, it would never be completely safe.

“This place has its flaws, but it seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?” you said, the question pleading, desperate. These were words you’d thought since your arrival here months ago, but never voiced. The ecosystem was too fragile as it was without you adding doubt into the mix. By the look on Daryl’s face, he’d been thinking it too. “I know it’s only been a year, but it feels so much longer than that. It feels like we’ve been running for a lifetime. Finding this place, making it liveable, it felt…too easy.”

Daryl scoffed then, cutting off your next words. “Ya call the shit with the Governor easy?”

You instantly realized where you’d misstepped. Insinuating that everything had gone smoothly, that people hadn’t been lost…especially to a man who’d lost so much. Placing your hand on his, he only twitched slightly before letting it rest there, his warmth flooding down your arm and to your chest.

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” you said. “All I meant was, since he disappeared everything’s been good. I keep wondering what the catch is. It feels like I’m holding my breath, waiting for the next bad thing to happen.”

He nodded, lifting his eyes from your still-touching hands to meet yours. “What’s that got to do with Christmas lights?”

You sighed, memories replaying of the afternoon, all the smiling faces tilted to the decor. Kids from Woodbury excited for Christmas, running around talking about Santa Claus and how “this year he’ll know where to find us.” People making holiday plans like what food they should make, where to find presents on runs, and what sort of decorations they wanted to put in their own rooms. Making plans, planting roots…it was a start.

“We need to believe this will work. What says, ‘we’re staying awhile,’ like planning for the holidays?”

Slowly, he turned his palm to interlock your fingers, securing them in an unbreakable bond. “It ain’t too good to be true. We’ll make this work. Together.”

Hearing him say it, the dream didn’t just sound possible, it sounded certain. Because if anyone could make it happen, it was Daryl Dixon. Holding his gaze, his hand in yours- The air was knocked from your lungs when it hit you. You didn’t just want this place to last, you wanted him to last, this moment. You wanted him. Forever. And suddenly the space between you felt like miles. This Christmas wish had to come true.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #advent calendar #winter fic #twd x reader #the walking dead

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sometimesalana · 11 months

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Eliza Beth: You look... peaceful. It's concerning. Please stop

Lyric: I'm conflicted. I wanna fight him. But he's like this innocent precious... pastry or something. I'd feel bad. But the only way i know how to make Piper feel better is to hurt what hurt her??

Marielle: Maybe we should've just went with her?

Eliza Beth: No... she would have just acted like nothing was wrong.

Lyric: I don't know her yet... I don't even remember her name.... Maybe i could beat *her* up.

Marielle: Lyric please. Ever heard of "violence is never the answer?" Besides. They did nothing wrong. Him and Piper were never official. We just assumed they'd always end up together after they grew out of being shy.

Lyric: Well, one of em grew out of it...

#the sims 4 #guerrero-grace legacy #the sims 4 gameplay #technicallyit'sgen3again #lyric grace #eliza beth westly #marielle madden #raleigh kalani #cypress wylder #don't mind eliza beth floating in the back she levitates when it's cloudy

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ereardon · 10 months

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Hi Em! I hope you are having a fabulous day 🥰

I would love to know:

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, or activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

Beth omg I'm sorry I am so unconscionably behind on answering this!! Thank you for asking, hope you're having a lovely weekend 🥰

Mahonia: Corny but I think nature inspires me the most! Usually when I'm driving in the car on long road trips I'll look out and see trees or rolling hills and it just gives me this gut feeling and I want to write how it makes me feel! So that always ends up in my writing! How I felt driving in Ohio was what ended up in Above The Fold. How I feel in Maine is The Off-Season, and when we were at the beach earlier this summer that really stuck with me and fueled a lot of That Summer for Bradley and Birdie!

Sage: Ooh this is hard! I think a really poetic line in either poetry or fiction usually does it for me! A few favs: Pablo Neruda, Raymond Carver, Flannery O'Connor. When a line is SO good it gives you goosebumps? Can't beat that.

Jasmine: I mean my ass BAWLED on a plane like a baby to Me Before You wtf that shit did not need to end like that. Pretty much any Stephen King book I only need to read once and it's burned into my brain but I will watch The Shining on an infinite loop!

#ask game

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calcunningham · 2 years

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AUSTIN ABRAMS, CIS MALE, HE / HIM | who’s that? oh it’s CALVIN CUNNINGHAM. i hear they’re 21 and are known as THE PRODIGY around HAWKINS EMS. they’re also a SENIOR at NOTRE DAME. they’re known to be PRAGMATIC AND LEVEL-HEADED and CUNNING AND DISTANT. some people say they remind them of FINALLY LEARNING WHEN TO HOLD YOUR TONGUE, TIRED EYES AND LATE NIGHT CUPS OF COFFEE, A CLEAN BEDROOM WITH A PERFECTLY MADE BED, OLD TROPHIES FROM HIGH SCHOOL COLLECTING DUST ON A SHELF, THE CONSTANT OVERWHELMING NEED TO PROVE YOURSELF.

the basics

FULL NAME: calvin michael cunningham NICKNAME(S): cal, cal cuntingham ( rip high school bullies ) AGE: twenty-one DATE OF BIRTH: january 4th HOMETOWN: hawkins, indiana CURRENT LOCATION: hell GENDER: cis male PRONOUNS: he / him ORIENTATION: bi romantic / demisexual OCCUPATION: emt with hawkins ems, senior at notre dame

the basics

Calvin Cunningham was a delicate child if you asked his mother. Smaller than Chance, and always the first one in the family to bring a cold home from school. He was never going to be athletic like either of the siblings he was closest to in age; he certainly didn’t have the strength or stamina. Cal was tiny, with a weak constitution, a thin frame and a lack of coordination. So instead of trying to embrace sports, Cal decided to look for his strengths elsewhere. He paid attention in school, asked plenty of questions and always raised his hand to give an answer. It wasn’t long before his teachers noticed how truly smart Cal was - and it went entirely to his head.

When he was young, Cal had a knack for running his mouth off and getting himself in trouble with much bigger kids. It wasn’t uncommon for him to say something rude and get himself beat up throughout elementary and middle school. He thought of most of his classmates as idiots, especially the school jocks. Any time someone asked a question that Cal thought had an obvious answer, he had a hard time keeping a straight face. He certainly was not popular with his classmates, which only fueled his belief that it was because he was too intelligent for them.

But he wasn’t the only smart kid in school; not by a longshot. Cal knew Beth Richards through their families - their siblings had dated for most of high school. She was just as smart as him, although he refused to acknowledge that at first. For years in school, he did everything he could to one up her in classes. If Beth got a 98 on an assignment, he had to get a 100. If she answered three questions in class, he had to answer four. He was obsessed with beating her, until he realized that maybe he was just obsessed with her. Not in a creepy way, but….well, Cal liked her a lot. She was smart and artistic and sweet and completely in love with Chance, which made Cal want to scream. When he realized that the one girl he’d ever felt strongly about loved his dumb jock older brother instead of him? Well, he sulked about it a lot. But he did what he could to get her to notice him. He tried harder in art class, he asked her to study together for tests. When she missed school for a week in sophomore year because she got the flu, Cal brought her her books so she wouldn’t get behind. He fell for the middle Richards child, but she never noticed him.

By the time he got in high school, Cal knew he wanted to get out of Hawkins, Indiana. He wanted to go to a prestigious school, somewhere where his intelligence would actually be challenged. So, he made it his mission to take the hardest classes and join the most activities he could. Captain of the Debate Team, Model UN President, member of the Hawkins High newspaper staff, Anatomy Club President, Art Club, anything and everything he could do to add to his college applications. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not - if it would help him get noticed, he did it.

And it paid off when he got a partial scholarship to Notre Dame, one of his first-choice schools. He was going to study History and Pre-Law; this would be a stepping stone on his way to the White House. Cal was smart, successful, a great public speaker, and had a pretty face - how could he not be president one day? If Reagan could do it, anyone with half a brain could. So, he threw himself into classes, coming home seldom and ignoring calls from his family most of the time. He had to get ahead - checking in on them could wait, especially since his mom only cared about him now because he was going to such a good school.

When he got the news that Chrissy had died, Cal had locked himself in his dorm room for days. All of a sudden, everything that he’d been working towards felt so meaningless, like a switch had flipped. Who gave a fuck about him staying up until 3 am to practice for Public Speaking class? Who cared that he had straight A’s? What did any of it matter anymore when Cal couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to Chrissy? He didn’t know what their last words even were. He couldn’t even guess.

He spiraled for a bit, working through his grief as best as he could. Cal switched majors, feeling like there was just no point in being a politician. Not when he saw how shitty of a job they were doing with Hawkins following Chrissy’s death. Cal felt sick with himself for how ambitious and fake he’d always been - how cruel he’d been to people he didn’t even know. Becoming Pre-Health was the only thing he could think of that seemed like it might be penance for the way he’d always treated people growing up. Maybe he could use his intelligence to become a doctor, help others who needed it since he couldn’t be there for his sister anymore. Cal worked just as hard as always, but now he channeled that ambition into doing something good for others for once.

When he’d heard Chrissy had come back from the forest commune, Cal had been confused but happy. He doesn’t remember that she died, so while the story is weird, he believes it. He’s come back to Hawkins now to be with her, and he’s working as an EMT to help get practical experience before he applies for med schools next year. Cal is no longer the biggest dick in Hawkins; he’s grown up and matured a lot. That doesn’t mean that he still won’t have a sarcastic comment or two though, nor is he suddenly on the best terms with his older brother. Maybe things can get better, though. Cal will just have to wait and see.

the headcanons

this man is left handed

his parents virtually ignored his existence growing up because their dad is aloof at best, and their mom was so focused on chrissy. that, plus cal not being a jock and being an overachiever, meant that he was firmly feeling the middle child syndrome.

cal used to be such a fucking asshole in high school. like, he’s heavily inspired by ben from never have i ever in that he was an overachiever who belittled those around him, unless he had a soft spot for you. i’m not sure he had many friends, he probably referred to people as his acquaintances mostly.

just at his core a very, very lonely boy growing up who always felt like he had to prove that he deserved to take up space in the world.

he was involved in a million clubs and activities. if hawkins offered it, he probably tried it for at least a semester to put it on his college transcript.

barely came home during college before chrissy’s death, but made the effort to more for his younger brother’s sake after she died.

when chrissy died, cal became a slightly better person. he’s still sarcastic at times and quiet and condescending, but now he’s also a lot more thoughtful.

working as an emt so if you get hurt, hit up cal. fuck max mayfield for stealing his ambulance at the carnival.

used to want to go into politics but then went ‘fuck that’ when chrissy died.

he’s currently dating ginny driscoll but it’s rocky at best.

still has a very strained relationship with chance and doesn’t make an effort to make it better.

wears contacts but used to have glasses. they still make an appearance every now and then.

demisexual as far as sexuality. in terms of who he finds romantically attractive, he’s bi !! had things with guys and gals !!

#( intro )#bth:intro #here he is

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alixcitement · 1 year

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Beth and crew in all their fully animated bouncy glory!

CHOOSE YOUR PLAYER!

#beat em up beth #beth beatemup #clover fielday #wade dash #alister allstar #pixel art #animation #animations #art #alixcitement #ali art

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alixquisite · 11 months

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#ap Beat Em Up Beth #ap illustrations

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backtohawkins · 2 years

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WELCOME BACK TO HAWKINS, CALVIN CUNNINGHAM (rudy pankow fc)

good luck and have a bitchin’ summer!

[RUDY PANKOW, CIS MALE, HE / HIM] who’s that? oh it’s [CALVIN CUNNINGHAM]. i hear they’re [21] and are known as [THE PRODIGY] around [HAWKINS EMS]. they’re also a [SENIOR] at [NOTRE DAME]. they’re known to be [PRAGMATIC AND LEVEL-HEADED] and [CUNNING AND DISTANT]. some people say they remind them of [FINALLY LEARNING WHEN TO HOLD YOUR TONGUE, TIRED EYES AND LATE NIGHT CUPS OF COFFEE, A CLEAN BEDROOM WITH A PERFECTLY MADE BED, OLD TROPHIES FROM HIGH SCHOOL COLLECTING DUST ON A SHELF, THE CONSTANT OVERWHELMING NEED TO PROVE YOURSELF]. [ash, 25, she/her, suicide, self-harm, est]

#submission #calvin cunningham

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