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peachyhalstead · 2 months

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married man | j. halstead

request:Can you do a Jay Halstead x Reader. They are both married and have a child together. The child just started pre-k or kindergarten and since the reader is heavily pregnant Jay has been dropping off and picking up their kid. And maybe like the single moms are flirting with Jay since they think he might be a single dad but they get surprised when the reader picks the kid one day after giving birth.

pairing: established (married) fem!reader x jay halstead

word count: 1.75k

warnings: none??

a/n: dad!jay dad!jay dad!jay !!!!! they have a little boy (his name is dylan) and a newborn girlie (what should her name be)

------

Grumbling as the alarm went off, you blindly reached over and whacked Jay on the chest. “Why’s it have to be so loud?”

Jay chuckled, silencing his phone’s alarm. “It’s not even that loud, babe.”

You glared at him through narrow eyes. “If I wasn’t about to pop right now I’d give you a piece of my mind.”

Letting out a hearty laugh, Jay got out of bed and folded his portion of the comforter back up, trapping the heat for you. “Only a few more weeks, babe. Then you’ll be able to move without having to pee every two seconds.”

You slowly followed Jay, yawning and rubbing the nine-month bump as you headed into the kitchen to package your son’s lunch.

He had recently started kindergarten, and loved telling you and Jay about all his escapades with his classmates as he learned different things.

“I could’ve done that, you didn’t have to get up.” Jay said, popping a capsule into the coffee machine and starting it.

Shrugging, you zipped the lunchbox closed and set it next to the matching blue backpack, one hand going to rub at the sore spot on your back. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fall back to sleep.”

Jay noticed, and his hands slowly made their way to the exact spot that bothered you in your first pregnancy. “Who do you thinks going to ask me out today, hm?”

Laughing softly, you clicked your tongue at Jay. “You really enjoy that, don’t you? Miss getting hit on?”

Jay shook his head. “Don’t miss it one bit. Just enjoy seeing those soccer moms think their whispers are quiet.”

A few weeks ago Jay had mentioned that some of the moms at drop-off had been talking about Jay, commenting on his lack of wedding band and no significant other ever at drop off or pick up.

“Momma, when will you go to school with me?” Dylan asked, your son finally making his appearance in his pajamas.

“Soon, little bug. Once Little Sister is here, I’ll drop you off with Daddy some days.”

Dylan frowned. “Can Sissy come now?”

You huffed, wanting nothing more than to deliver the weight that seemed to be constantly on your bladder. “I wish, but I think she needs a few more weeks.”

Jay smiled into his coffee cup, phone chiming with a text from Hailey. “Come on, Dyl. Let’s get dressed so you can show your friends your new shoes.”

Dylan beamed at the thought, and followed Jay back to his room, leaving you alone in the warm kitchen. The aroma of coffee lingered as you found a chair to rest in, hand absently tracing circles over your distended belly.

A sigh of contentment escaped you; this was your world, and despite the groggy mornings and occasional aggravations - like trying to convince Dylan to brush his teeth properly - you wouldn’t change it for anything else. That was the beauty of family - it wasn’t always perfect, but it was yours. And that made all the imperfections precious in their own odd way.

The sound of Jay's voice pulled you from your thoughts as he asked Dylan to choose between two shirts. You smiled, knowing how seriously your little boy took these morning decisions. Sipping on some water and slowly standing up, you decided to start breakfast.

The scent of eggs and bacon soon filled the room, joining the still lingering coffee aroma. Dylan would be excited; he loved his simple morning breakfasts. As you were flipping an egg, Jay returned with Dylan in tow. Their matching grins caught your eye.

“What are you two up to?” You questioned playfully, adjusting your hold on your bump.

“Nothing,” they both chimed in unison, their grins growing even wider.

“Okay,” you drew out the first syllable, grabbing a plate and moving the eggs for Dylan to eat, blowing on them as you cut them into pieces.

“Eat, then Daddy will bring you to school.” You smiled, cracking a few more eggs and grabbing a tortilla and the toppings you knew Jay liked, quickly making a breakfast wrap for him.

Wrapping it in foil, you smiled to yourself as you heard Jay helping Dylan put on his sneakers.

“Ok, we gotta go, Little Man! Go give Momma a kiss.”

Dylan skipped over to you, wrapping his little arms around your legs, promising you he’d come home with a drawing to put in the nursery.

Thanking him, you smiled at Jay as he grabbed the wrap and his badge, stopping to press a kiss to your forehead. “Take it easy today, babe.”

“I will. Go break hearts and catch perps, Jay.”

——

Jay hid his eye roll as he followed Dylan to the drop off location, ignoring the looks from the few single mothers nearby.

“I mean, who in their right mind wouldn’t grab that ass? He’s such a good dad, too.”

Jay overheard one of the mothers and shook his head, stifling a laugh. He still found it amusing and somewhat flattering to know that he was the topic of their little gossip circle. But he also knew firmly where his heart lay - at home with you and Dylan, and soon, your new little girl.

As Dylan scampered off towards his classroom, he turned to Jay with a big grin. "Daddy, do you think I can tell Mrs. Johnson about Sissy coming soon?"

Jay bent down to his level, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Of course, buddy. I'm sure she will be thrilled to hear it."

At that moment, a pair of giggling women walked by, shooting him suggestive glances over their shoulders. He merely smiled politely before turning away.

Arriving back at the car, Jay pulled out his phone and saw a text from you: Feeling better now that the house is empty. How did drop off go?

He quickly typed back: Smooth as always. He's telling all his teachers about his soon-to-be little sister.

Satisfied, he started the vehicle and headed towards the precinct. His phone chimed again with your response: That's my boy! Take care at work, Jay.

He chuckled as he imagined you grinning at your phone, feet kicked up on the coffee table even though you often chided him for doing the same thing.

——

The routine didn’t shift for the next few weeks, but the gossiping mothers were surprised when Dylan was dropped off by Will one day, Jay at the hospital where you were currently resting with the newest addition to the family.

“Uncle Will, can we see Momma and Sissy after school?” Dylan asked, tugging on his uncle’s hand.

"Of course, buddy," Will replied with a soft smile, watching as Dylan's face lit up with joy. "I bet they can't wait to see you."

Once Dylan scampered off towards his classroom, Will indulged in a moment of silence. He was used to the emergency room's relentless noise and bustle, so the unfamiliar hush of the school yard in the early morning was a welcome respite. A group of mothers were huddled together, shooting glances his way. Perhaps he was becoming part of their gossip routine now too - he silently hoped otherwise.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Jay could barely tear his gaze away from you sleeping peacefully, the tiny bundle in his arms a testament to your strength and love. His heart swelled in his chest at the sight; you looked more beautiful than ever, your face radiating an exhausted but blissful glow as your daughter, their daughter, clung onto his finger with her small hand.

Just then, she stirred awake and let out a soft whimper which turned into a loud wail. He quickly got up and started to gently rock her, not wanting her cries to disturb your much-needed rest.

“Hey there, little princess,” he cooed softly as he bounced her gently in his arms. “Let’s not wake Mommy up now.”

After a few minutes of gentle rocking and hushed lullabies - Jay trying his best to remember the ones you sung to Dylan when he was an infant, the baby quieted down, blue eyes peering up at her father.

“Hi, munchkin. You already have half of Chicago’s first responders wrapped around your finger.” He whispered, soft smile at his lips as he thought back to the replies from his team when he sent the photo of the baby in the group chat.

"The other half is itching to meet you. Just wait until Uncle Will gets a hold of you. You're going to be spoiled rotten." He laughed softly, mindlessly tracing a finger over his daughter's tiny forehead.

His phone buzzed where he had left it on the bedside table. It was a message from Will letting him know that Dylan had been dropped off at school and asking if they could come by after school to see the baby.

Jay's heart swelled, even more, knowing his son was equally excited about his little sister's arrival. Jay quickly typed a response, assuring Will they would be more than happy to have visitors later in the day.

——

The day passed in a flurry of nurses checking vitals and bringing meals, phone calls from family and friends, and quiet moments spent marveling over their newest addition. Dylan was bursting with energy when Will brought him by after school, his wide eyes taking in everything with an infectious excitement that had everyone in the room smiling.

"Momma, Sissy is really small!" Dylan whispered in awe as he approached the bed, carefully peering over the edge of the bassinet.

You chuckled at his innocent observation as Jay helped him climb up onto the bed to get a better look. "Yes, she is," you agreed with a fond smile. "You were that small, too, Little Man!”

Dylan looked at you with wide eyes, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh!”

“Mhmm!” You replied, fixing his shirt as he squirmed to get another look at his sister.

“When can you and Sissy come to school?” He asked, looking at you.

Jay laughed quietly, and you looked at your husband. “Soon, Dyl.”

——

Two weeks later, you consoled the crying baby as Jay helped Dylan put his backpack on. “Can Sissy come meet Mrs. Johnson?”

Shaking your head, you carefully strapped the little girl into her carrier, softly rubbing her cheek. “Not yet. Maybe during the spring concert, but she’s still too little.”

Jay stood up and grabbed his keys. “She can help Momma and Daddy drop you off, though. That sound good?”

Dylan’s face lit up at the thought. “Yeah! Everyone will get to see her!” He jumped excitedly before Jay guided him out the door.

Satisfied with your successful early morning, you carried the baby carrier to the car and buckled it in securely at the back seat. Moving around was still a little tough for you but you were slowly getting the hang of things. You climbed into the passenger side, glancing back at Dylan who was squirming in his seat with anticipation.

The drive to the school was filled with Dylan's non-stop chatter about what he was going to show his little sister. Jay had a soft smile on his face as he listened to his son, occasionally glancing at you in admiration and shared joy.

Once they arrived in front of the school, Dylan unbuckled himself and carefully opened your car door for you. “Be careful, Momma!” He cautioned, making Jay chuckle as he followed behind with his son’s backpack.

You smiled, letting Jay go ahead with Dylan so he wasn’t late, working to unstrap your daughter’s carrier so Dylan could see her one last time before he was in school.

“Jay, haven’t seen you the last few days. Is everything okay?” One of the mothers who had tried to hit on Jay asked, faux worry on her face.

Jay wore a smile as he turned to the woman, Dylan's hand tucked safely in his own as they made their way toward the school entrance. "Yeah, everything’s great, actually. My wife just gave birth to our second child," he responded casually, nodding his head towards the car where you were carefully lifting the baby carrier.

The woman blinked in surprise before offering a tight-lipped smile, "Oh, I didn’t know... congratulations."

"Thanks," Jay replied with a nod before turning his attention back to Dylan whose bundle of excitement was barely contained. As Jay opened the door for him to enter he looked into the bright eyes of his son and smiled reassuringly, "You ready?"

Dylan nodded eagerly, already tugging on his father's hand to drag him inside. Jay followed docilely, striding up the hallway towards Dylan's classroom.

Meanwhile, you were still out by the car, struggling slightly with the baby carrier that seemed to weigh even more than your now two-week-old daughter. A few mothers noticed and stepped forward to help you, their faces lighting up at the sight of the infant bundled up against the cold.

"Oh she's absolutely adorable!" One woman cooed, and you recognized her from when Jay was telling you how one of them started to wear low-cut tops after he started doing drop off duty.

You walked with them to the doors, smile brightening when you saw Jay and Dylan at the door, the young boy wanting to say goodbye to his sister.

“Bye, Sissy! Bye, Momma!” Dylan smiled, giving his sister a kiss and hugging your legs, unaware that his farewells caused the mothers who had walked with you to gasp lightly.

Jay’s smile widened at Dylan's display of affection, ruffling his son's hair gently, "Alright, champ. We’ll pick you up later. Have a great day at school."

Dylan nodded eagerly before disappearing into the bustling school building with his teacher. The remaining mothers turned to you, their surprised expressions replaced by warm, slender smiles as they admired your little girl.

Back in the car, you laughed as Jay started the ignition. “Think I felt the daggers from some of the moms when they found out you’re married.”

Jay snorted, turning back to the road to your house. “Well, that or when they found out we have great sex. Either way, watch your back, babe.”

You gawked at Jay’s remark, hitting him in the chest. “Jay! Your daughter is listening!”

“Oh, she’ll hear worse when Ruz babysits her." ------ a/n: send requests if you wanna!!

#jay halstead x fem!reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd #one chicago

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lovebugism · 4 months

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“we don’t like each other, but we’re at a mutual friend’s Christmas party and we keep getting caught under the mistletoe together”

eddie and r at steve’s christmas party!

ty for requestling lovie! pls enjoy xoxo — you and eddie, arch enemies since you met, share a kiss under the mistletoe thanks to your meddling friends (enemies to lovers, fluff, 2.2k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Steve’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you the long way to the kitchen. His too big house is glowing with life — with warm-colored Christmas lights and the laughter of your closest friends. It all makes your skin sparkle. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

You’re draining your cup of its contents, head tipped back to catch every drop of Steve’s dad’s expensive liquor. You let the boy lead you blindly for a refill until you notice that you’re further from the kitchen now than you were sitting with him on the couch.

“Where are we going?” you wonder with a hearty chuckle.

“To get you another drink!” he insists, playing innocent.

“Then why are we circling your living room?”

He guides you around the French doors of the entrance and past the wooden staircase — where Max and Lucas dangle mistletoe from a string on the upper story. They bicker back and forth about exactly where to place it and forget to be discreet about any of it.

You’re about to walk past it and towards the kitchen, but Steve stops short before you can. Eddie exits the hallway just in front of you, seemingly led by none other than Dustin Henderson in an obviously concocted plan.

This marks the second Christmas of your friends trying to get you and the freak to kiss.

It’ll also be the second Christmas that they fail.

“I can see you, you know?” you shout to the arguing teenagers.

The banter quietens all at once.

Lucas shoots an awkward smile down at you, dressed in an itchy sweater and collared shirt that his mom obviously dressed him in. Max is much less apologetic. Her auburn braids sway on either side of her face as she leans over the railing, clutching at the lit-up garland with a bandaged hand.

“Can you just kiss and get it over with?” she pleads with all her practiced teenage desperation. “Lucas almost chopped my hand off cutting the fishing wire, and I need to know it was worth something.”

“Yeah, in your dreams, Mayfield,” Eddie scoffs, walking past you without a single glance your way. You wouldn’t know, though, because you weren’t looking at him either. You bypass the mistletoe and head the opposite way toward the kitchen. “Not a chance,” you murmur under your breath.

“I said I was sorry!” you hear Lucas exclaim as you go.

Max squints her stony blue eyes at him. “Yeah, ‘cause sorry’s gonna fix my hand, right?”

You pour your own drink while Steve lectures the kids about being distracted. He’s back a couple minutes later, wearing a dumb Christmas sweater and an even dumber grin. “Watcha doing?” he lilts slowly as he walks to stand at your side.

You lick beer from the side of your thumb after spilling a drop or more. “Separating myself from the plotting,” you answer, vague and somewhat ominous.

He furrows his brows and scoffs out a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone’s trying to get me and Munson to kiss. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s just a joke,” he assures with a shrug, even though you both know it’s more than that.

He could’ve used that excuse the year before — when he and Dustin were practically tripping over themselves to get you and Eddie in the same room and under the same mistletoe. Now it’s a competition. Now it’s real.

They’re trying to prove to themselves that they can get you and Eddie to kiss more than they’re trying to prove that they’d been right about the two of you all along.

“Is that why you hid a mistletoe by the records?” you squint and raise your cup for another sip.

You and Eddie have a history of fighting over what music gets played at parties. You’re notorious for it, actually. Even tonight, you argued about whether to play Christmas music or the regular stuff. That was before you noticed the ribboned plant hiding in the cabinet of records, of course. Then you walked away entirely.

That’s why you’re listening to Dio now instead of Nat King Cole.

“Robin did that, actually,” Steve tells you as he crosses his arms over his chest. “And it would’ve been genius if she actually hid the damn thing. It’s like I’m the only one taking this seriously!”

“Both of you are idiots. And creeps.”

“Do you wanna go smoke, or do you wanna keep calling me names?”

“Hm…” you hum and pretend to ponder his question. You purse your lips to the side and flit your eyes to the ceiling. “How about we go smoke and I keep calling you names.

He thinks for a second. Then nods. “Deal.”

Steve’s deck is as ornately decorated as the rest of his house. It glows yellow from the wreaths on the windows and the garland on the railing. The golden color is the only warm thing about being outside. The bitter breeze bites through the material of your sweater, pricking at your skin no matter how tightly you fold your arms around yourself.

You and Steve huddle together like penguins for warmth. He pulls out a little tin box from the back pocket of his jeans — there’s one joint left inside it. He passes it off to you, then pats at his sides with a frown between his brows.

“Shit…” he huffs.

“What?” you ask, teeth chattering.

“I forget the damn lighter.”

You scoff. “Genius.”

He rushes back inside. The glass door slides open, basking you in a momentary warmth, before sliding shut again.

You’re not alone for very long, though. He’s back far quicker than you expect. You hear the schlick of the opened door and feel the woosh of golden heat. When you look over your shoulder with a half-hearted complaint on the tip of your tongue, you realize that Steve isn’t back.

It’s Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh, you gotta be shitting me,” you mumble under your breath.

His brows pinch together, dark eyes twinkling with confusion when he looks at you. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Wait— Don’t shut the door!”

“What are you talking about?” he laughs and shuts it anyway.

“No, don’t—”

It’s too late. You rush to the glass and hear a faint click on the other side. You wrap your fingers around the cool handle and pull. It doesn’t budge.

“Those assholes locked us out here,” you grouse — partly for Eddie, but mostly for the assholes in question locked inside.

Steve peeks through the blinds. You can only see his eyes, honeyed and sparkling with mischief. “Who’s the idiot now?” he teases. The big dumb grin is audible in his voice. You blink, and he’s gone again.

“He lured us… With weed…” Eddie murmurs. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. He nods with a small shrug. “That’s kinda genius, actually.”

“Except we can’t smoke it. ‘Cause we don’t have a lighter.”

Eddie’s face screws up in offense, chin jerking back like he’s flinching. He pulls a pale hand from the pocket of his leather jacket. The metal Zippo glimmers beneath the Christmas lights. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, sweetheart,” the wild-haired boy teases.

“I don’t,” you concur and snatch the lighter from his ringed fingers. “And I’d love to keep it that way.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?” he jokes, squinting at you with eyes made of chocolate and smiling with lips rosier than flower petals.

“Thanks for noticing,” you mumble through the joint. You hold your hand over the flame while you light it, taking a deep puff before passing it off to the boy beside you.

“At least we have a break from those psychos, right?” he jokes as he takes it from you.

Your laugh comes out in a white cloud. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure we’re, like, the only normal people here.”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t let that go to your head, though. You’re still a freak.”

“And you’re still a bitch,” he lilts with a grin, then passes the joint back to you — a makeshift peace offering.

“Don’t be mean to me—” you squint and snatch the blunt from his hand. The tone you use is a foreign one, coated with a hurt he can’t tell is real or in his head. His eyes go wide, anyway. An apology bubbles in his throat, but you beat him to the punch. “—It turns me on.”

“Oh,” he murmurs under his breath, heart thudding hard against his ribcage. “…Oh.”

Your lips curl into a smirk around the edge of the joint. The ash burns orange when you take a deep inhale and turns dark again when you pass it back.

His ringed fingers brush yours, and Eddie gets shy in a way he never really has before. Not with you, anyway. Your touch has him buzzing, gets him all awkward like a giddy teenage boy who’s never been around a girl before.

He forces a laugh through a sparkling chest. “Now I don’t know if I should stop or keep going.”

A giggle sputters from your lips before you can stop it. You hadn’t meant for it to come out, of course — you were actually trying really hard to swallow it down. But it’s spilling from your smiling mouth like rays of golden sunshine in a navy blue winter, anyway.

Eddie couldn’t hide his amusement if he tried. The blunt burns, unhit, between his fingers, because he’s too busy looking at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made you laugh before,” he says, chuckling to himself while pride swells behind his ribcage. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve even made you smile before.”

“Don’t get used to it— I’m just tipsy.”

You reach over to snatch the burning stick from his hand, and he suddenly understands what you meant before — the whole don’t be mean to be, it turns me on thing that he’ll probably be thinking about for the next week or so.

‘Cause you’re always rough with him. Rough and a little bit bitter. It bordered on hate, unrooted and visceral. Erotic. Maybe he liked teasing you so much because he liked it when you told him off. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to leave you alone even now.

“I like you like this, though,” Eddie confesses, voice as soft as his melted-chocolate gaze. His eyes get all squishy around the edges when he looks at you now. It makes you cower because you’re not used to that — to liking it.

He shrugs and sticks his fidgeting hands into his jacket pockets, trying hopelessly to play it cool. “Maybe we should, like, go get drinks together or something? So, you know, you can be nice to me and— halfway tolerate me or whatever.”

You get quiet, and he isn’t totally sure what to make of it.

His flitting eyes (going halfway blind from staring at Steve’s Christmas lights instead of you) find your gaze again. You’re wearing a smirk he’s never seen on you before, barely there but still obvious. No one’s ever looked at him the way you are now — like the world could fall apart, but you’d never know it because he’s somehow more distracting.

You catch his button-eyed gaze and hold it until it hurts.

“In your dreams, Munson,” you singsong sweetly to him, lips like wine. It’s his words from earlier (ones he’s starting to regret right about now), but you say them with a wider and more sincere smile.

It feels almost like a promise.

A whistle sounds in the distance, coming from above you.

You and Eddie share confused glances before taking a single step forward. Max and Lucas are leaning over the balcony a story above you — with that damn mistletoe hanging from fishing wire. That means Dustin and Steve aren’t too far, either. Which means Robin’s probably up there, too.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie squints up at them, chin tilted to reveal the pale expanse of his neck. You don’t know why you can’t stop looking at him. Maybe it’s the weed and the one beer you had, but you never thought a neck could be pretty until now.

“We’ve been here for a while, actually,” Max sasses in return.

Lucas concurs with a shoulder pressed intently against hers. “Yeah. My arm’s starting to get a little tired over here.”

You and Eddie huff and roll your eyes at the same time, so strangely synchronized. You’d both be similarly annoyed if your minds weren’t racing. ‘Cause it’s a tradition now — for all your friends to get you to kiss with storebought mistletoe — and it’s always tradition for them to fail.

It’s a record you and Eddie would like to break now, almost painfully so, but neither of you will humor the other by saying that out loud.

The boy beside you merely shrugs. His cheeks flush pink with an embarrassment he’d sooner blame on the cold. You can see it in his eyes, though — in the twinkle in the deep chocolate of them. His gaze is weirdly expressive in that way. He couldn’t hide anything from you if he tried.

“Should we…?” he trails off.

He won’t let you know that he wants to — kiss you, that is — but he’s not gonna do anything you don’t want to do, either. He’s not a total asshole, just a stupid boy falling head over heels for a girl he thought he hated five minutes ago.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you huff in annoyance.

You say it begrudgingly — like tasting him with your suddenly longing lips is some kinda chore.

You kiss the breath from his lungs a second later.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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http-finnick · 5 months

Text

𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬.𝐬

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: you and coryo run into the meadow for a picnic date

cw: fluff, kissing, coryo is not evil.

the weeds tickle your ankles as you giggle through the hills, the sun warming your blood as your dress flows with your running

"can you hurry up?" you yelp as he rolls his eyes, head freshly buzzed and tank top just washed, he speeds up.

you smile when he's finally in reach, grabbing his shoulders before staring in his blue eyes

"well, is this the spot?" he asks, breaking you from your trance as you quickly nod. he swings the basket on the grass and lets the wind unfold the blanket before placing it at your feet

as you relax under the sun he passes you bread and berries. your teeth sink into the blackberry as he snaps a piece of hearty bread.

you move to lay on your stomach when you notice a lonely ladybug crawling on your blanket, letting her crawl on your fingertips as you feel a light tickle on the loose strands of your hair.

in a few minutes, you look back to see your hair decorated with wildflowers and grin to see Coryo trying to look oblivious. As you let the ladybug crawl off your finger you move towards him.

his lips are plump and redden from the strawberries and you lean to kiss them. he smiles into the kiss, moving on top of you so you lay relaxed into his love. when your sweet kiss is finished he hovers over you with an arm resting above you, studying your face like it's the first time he's seen it.

you blush under his gaze and try to look back into the meadow but his hand guides you back to him before laying another kiss on you.

an: hiii guys! i'm so happy to be posting for coryo! I hope you guys enjoy it! <333

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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a safe haven | three

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter l next chapter

summary: You and Joel get to know each other better and the two of you share a private moment out behind the barn under the stars; an unexpected guest shows up to the party; Tommy gives Joel a second and final warning about you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) MENTIONS AND IMPLICATIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/ABUSE. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. alcohol consumption, mutual pining and yearning, Joel sings to reader a bit (that is its own warning), soft Joel, overprotective Joel, and a slight hint of jealous Joel. Tommy seems like kind of an asshole but he’s just trying to look out for his brother, okay?

word count 6.6k

About an hour later, after tossing back about three or four bottles of Seth’s crappy beer, you’d started feeling a lot livelier and a lot more like yourself. It was a glass of his delicious, oak-barrel aged whiskey that you had wanted more than anything, but with Esther over at the bar openly flirting up a storm with Joel Miller, you pushed down the desire for scotch and settled for the bitter lager instead.

It tasted awful, but it did the job well enough. The best part was that the bottles of beer were all readily available in coolers all around the barn, and you didn’t need to go up to the bar to get one.

The last thing you’d wanted was to find out what was going on between Esther and Joel.

“And the next thing you know, poor John is being chased all around the chicken coop by a bunch of broody hens!” Martha finishes her story, throwing her hands up in the air. “God, I wish I would’ve had a camcorder in hand. It was the funniest thing I ever did see in almost two damn decades.”

Everyone sitting around the table bursts into a fit of loud, hearty laughter.

“Oh okay, so then that would probably explain why there weren’t many eggs in stock at the market the other morning,” you tease, only fueling the commotion.

John glares at you, and you shrug innocently, fighting back another laugh. Six foot two with big, broad shoulders and arms, you found it both very difficult and very amusing to picture the bulky blond man being chased around by a flock of pissed off chickens.

“I’d really like to see any of you guys try and take a broody hen’s eggs away from her with ease!” John huffs out before taking a gulp of his beer. He’s red in the face, and it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment. “Assholes.”

Martha leans over, whispering, “See? I told you it would make him mad.”

You giggle, lightly shaking your head at her. “Talk about ruffling some feathers, huh?”

She snorts into her plate of potatoes, jabbing her elbow into your side. “Let’s stop before he really gets all riled up, or else we’re going to get an earful.”

“Oh come on, John. Lighten up,” you grin over at him from across the table. “I know what’ll make you feel better. You guys want to hear a really, and I mean really embarrassing story?” You pause for a second or two, just long enough for everyone to nod eagerly. “Let me tell you about what Stella did to me the other day in her stall when I tried to take her temperature, it was absolutely awful. Okay, so there I am about to—”

“Sorry to interrupt you folks, but do you all mind if we steal this sweet little lady here for just a minute or two?” The sound of Tommy Miller’s smooth, deep voice causes you to stop abruptly mid-sentence. You glance over your shoulder only to see him approaching the table. He’s closely followed by Maria, who had traded her usual patrol duty attire for a light blue denim dress that sat off of her shoulders, the flowing skirt falling just above knees. Her white cowboy hat matches her husband’s.

“Aw c’mon, Miller! She was just about to tell us a story!” Peter, Martha’s husband, exclaims as he drapes his arm around his wife’s shoulders

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I promise we won’t keep her too long, alright?”

You immediately notice that he’s holding a drink in each hand, each glass filled almost to the rim with a bold, rich amber liquor over ice. The only reason that you’d immediately known one of the two drinks was meant for you was because Maria had just discovered that she was pregnant. It was still a secret that very few people knew about, but the minute she confirmed it with a pregnancy test earlier that month, she’d come running to your door to tell you. It’s the reason she’s been avoiding booze all evening—she’s been sipping on lemonade all night instead.

“Excuse me,” you nod politely to the group of friends you’d been sitting with and stand up from the table. You follow Tommy and Maria over to a far corner of the barn where the three of you could talk somewhat privately. Accepting the glass from Tommy, you offer him a grateful smile, pleased that you’d gotten the drink you had wanted after all. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” He nods and tips the brim of his cowboy hat to you in his typical, gentleman-like manner. He’d never lost an ounce of those Texas manners.

Maria loops her arm through his. “Well, it looks like tonight was a real success,” she states as she glances around the room, her pride written clearly across her face. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Absolutely,” you agree, enthusiastically. You smile again and lift your glass to the couple as you toast, “Another year and another success. Here’s to many, many more to come.”

“Cheers to that, little lady,” Tommy grins and lifts up his glass, clinking the rim of it to yours before taking a generous drink, nearly draining it in one single gulp. “Thanks for stoppin’ by earlier and helpin’ set the place up, by the way. We really appreciate it.”

You wave your free hand at him. “Oh, no need to thank me at all. You already know that I was more than happy to help out,” you tell him as you take a careful sip of whiskey. The hard liquor burns its way down your throat in the sweetest way. Taking another sip, you turn to look at Maria, unable to help yourself from admiring her gorgeous, natural glow. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Maria replies with a smile, placing her free hand over her flat stomach. At only a few weeks along, she still had quite a long way to go before she began to show. “Just a little bit of morning sickness here and there, but so far, so good.” She pauses and leans her body into Tommy’s side. “I never thought I’d be having a baby in my forties,” she muses with a laugh. “I thought that train had left the station a long time ago. But I guess life had something else planned for me.”

“For us,” Tommy corrects, playfully nudging her.

“For us,” Maria echoes, giving him a loving kiss on his cheek. “Luke calls it a geriatric pregnancy. He told me I’m automatically considered high risk, due to my age and all. But we’re hoping it’ll go smoothly.”

You detect the genuine concern behind her optimistic smile and reach out, gently touching her arm. “I’m sure it will all turn out fine. You just have to make sure that you’re taking good care of yourself and getting plenty of rest.” You point a finger at her, wagging it back and forth. “So, that means no more patrol duties for you, Mrs. Miller.”

“Oh I know,” she laughs again. “I’m on light work duties starting next week and in a few months, it’ll be strict bed rest for me. At least, that’s what Luke recommended, but I’m hoping to stay on my feet for a little bit longer than that.” She tilts her head curiously to the side as she looks at you. “Speaking of Luke, is he around? We haven’t seen him at all tonight.”

Throat bobbing, you grip your glass tightly in your hand. The corners of your mouth threaten to turn downward, but you manage to hold your smile well enough.

At this point, you had pretty much lost track of the number times you’d been asked about Luke.

Where is he? Why isn’t he here with you? Do you think there’s a chance he’ll show up tonight? Can’t you go home and convince him to join us?

You just about loathed the way he was considered to be a hero in Jackson. The way that every single person in the community adored the man to pieces made you sick to your stomach—Luke was anything but a hero, but nobody knew that. Not a single soul knew the real him, the monster that emerged behind closed doors, the terrible things he did when no one was around.

There had been an occasion or two where you had considered going to Tommy and Maria about it, to tell them all about the horrors that went on within the walls of your home. But even when they’d point out a bruise on your arm or a scrape on your cheek, you would lose the courage and chalk it up to a clumsy accident or injuries sustained while on the job—hell, just a few months ago, you’d blamed an injured shoulder on Ranger, telling Tommy that his beloved stallion had accidentally kicked you during one of your routine examinations. You wanted nothing more than to tell him that it hadn’t been his horse who put you in a sling for three weeks, it had been Luke. But how the hell could you do that?

Luke is the commune’s physician. The commune’s only physician.

Besides the two older nurses who worked in the clinic along with him, he was the only medically trained professional who knew how to treat severe injuries, perform minor surgeries, and diagnose illnesses—as much as you hated to admit it, Jackson needed him. If you told Tommy and Maria about everything that he’d done to you over the last two years, then you’d risk getting Luke locked up in the town jail, or possibly even thrown out and exiled from the settlement. What would that mean for the people in the community who fell ill or became injured and needed a doctor?

Maybe he wasn’t a hero to you, but to everybody else, he was. People could die without him and his medical knowledge. Hell, Maria would need Luke now more than ever now that she was pregnant.

For as much as you wanted to tell them the truth about him, you just couldn’t find the guts to do it, not when the decision would impact every single person in Jackson.It would be too selfish.

So, you kept quiet and continued to let it happen because what else could you do?

Nothing.

There wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it.

Tommy says your name, snapping you back out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” he asks you as he gingerly touches your shoulder. “You zoned out on us for a minute there.”

You blink. “Yeah sorry, I’m alright. Um, Luke decided to stay at home and get some rest,” you reply as you shift awkwardly from boot to boot, feeling a sudden heat flood your face. “He’s been working a lot of hours at the clinic and making house calls as well, so he’s just been really tired, you know?”

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Maria frowns. “Tommy and I were hoping we could say this to the both of you together, but I suppose you’ll have to give him the message on our behalf when you get home to him later tonight.”

You shoot her a puzzled look. “What is it?”

“We know we don’t say this as often as we should, but you and Luke do so much for us. So much for Jackson,” Tommy says, sincere gratitude dripping from his tone. “We’re damn lucky to have the two of you here. Me and Maria, and everyone in this community, we’re all deeply indebted to both of you for all you do.”

You stare at him. “Everyone here works very hard, Tommy—”

“Now, I ain’t saying they don’t,” he interrupts you by holding up his hand. “But let’s be honest here. Luke, he takes good care of all of our people, you take good care of all of our horses—people and horses, that’s what keeps this place runnin’ like a well oiled machine and you know it just as well as we do. Without the both of you lookin’ after our two most important resources, I ain’t all too sure where the hell this place would be.”

Maria nods in agreement with her husband and squeezes his arm. “Oh, don’t be so modest,” she remarks upon seeing the bewildered expression on your face. “He’s right. And we need you to know how much we appreciate everything the two of you do for this community.”

Tommy grins, raising his glass in a toast. “To you and Luke.”

Stomach churning, you flash them your very best smile and lift your own glass, clinking it against his and then to Maria’s bottle of lemonade. “Well, I will certainly give him the kind message when I get home tonight. Thank you.” You take a quick sip of your drink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The room feels hot, like it had been lit on fire and you were standing too close to the flames. “It’s starting to feel a bit warm in here. I’m going to go outside for a minute to get some fresh air. Excuse me.”

Before either of them can utter another word, you spin around on your heel and hastily make your way across the barn towards the exit, being careful not to bump into the dancing couples on the dance floor along the way. Even as you hurried out, you’d caught sight of Ellie sitting with Dina at one of the tables, digging into her plate full of barbecue. Dina had leaned over and whispered something into Ellie’s ear and Ellie let out a loud, obnoxious cackle through a mouthful of food.

Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but smile—an actual, genuine smile this time around.

At least Ellie seemed to be having a good time.

That’s more than enough for you.

Joel glimpses over Esther’s shoulder.

His eyebrows pull together in a mixture of confusion and concern as he watches you practically run out of the barn alone with a drink clutched in your hand and a strange expression on your face—you appear to be upset over something.

The blonde in front of him had been going on and on about where she was from, although he hadn’t quite been listening to her the entire time she had been talking—or at all.

Had Esther said Vermont? Or maybe it had been Virginia?

Joel wasn’t all too sure, but he didn’t care enough to ask her to clarify. Besides, his thoughts were far too busy preoccupied with someone else. Someone he needed to make sure was alright.

“Listen Esther, s’been real nice talkin’ to you,” he states as he offers the woman the most polite smile he can possibly muster up for her. He tries to ignore the awkward way she’d pouted her lips at him, a sad, disappointed look flashing in her eyes. “But I’ve gotta go and take care of somethin’ for a minute. Will you excuse me?”

He doesn’t even give Esther the chance to respond. Setting his drink down on the counter, he gives her a quick nod goodbye and steps around her. He starts towards the barn’s exit, but before leaving, he tosses a quick glance in Ellie’s direction just to make sure she’s still doing okay without him. He had been keeping a close and watchful eye on her from the bar the entire time. After a while, it soon became apparent to Joel that Ellie had been doing just fine. She’s scarfing down another heaping helping of bison and potatoes, grinning from ear to ear as she talks with Dina, who seems to be enjoying her company despite her poor table manners.

Joel steps outside into the night and he takes a look around, searching for you among the small, scattered groups of people who stood mingling with one another. Gossiping women, drunk and rowdy patrolmen, children running around—he jumps slightly as a giggling little redheaded girl who can’t be older than five circles around his legs with a curly haired boy who is about the same age chasing after her. He lightly shoos them away from him and they take off running in another direction.

He scans his surroundings once more.

You’re nowhere to be found.

Humming, Joel glances down.

He notices a long trail of footprints left behind by what had to be a pair of cowboy boots, similar to the ones you’d been wearing. The strange way in which they veered off in a random direction away from the rest of the crowd tips him off almost a bit too easily—he knows they belong to you. Without giving it a second thought, he starts to follow your tracks and they lead him all the way around to the back of the barn.

That’s where Joel finds you, leaning against the wooden paddock fence. You’re back is to him, your head tilted upwards. Your gaze seems to be lost somewhere up in the velvet, purple night sky and you’re swaying along to the pretty country melody that, even outside, can still be heard coming from inside the barn.

Turn around, a sound voice in the back of his mind tries to reason with him. Go go back inside.

He ignores it, his legs moving forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you.

The sound of his heavy boots crunching on the rocks in the dirt as he draws closer to you causes you to jump. Whirling around, you gasp and your free hand flies to your chest.

“M’sorry,” Joel quickly apologizes, holding up both his hands to show you he’s not a threat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Joel?” You’re surprised to see him. “What are you doing out here?”

The area out behind the barn is just as dark as it is secluded, however, the moon is full, big, and bright, its silvery glow illuminating each and every single one of your features in such a beautiful way that it makes his throat go dry, just like it had earlier that evening when he’d first seen you in that dress.

“Well ain’t that funny. I was actually just ‘bout to ask you the same exact question, darlin’.” He falls into step beside you, leaning back against the fence. “What are you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

“Oh, I just needed some fresh air, that’s all,” you reply with a small, light shrug of your shoulders. You turn back around, leaning your forearms on top of the wooden fence, both hands wrapped firmly around your glass of whiskey. You’re standing so close to Joel that your shoulder touches his, though neither of you make a move to put space in between your bodies. “What’s your excuse?”

“Needed a breather from Esther,” he confesses.

It was partially the truth.

He couldn’t tell you he’d really come outside to check on you.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you like her?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all,” Joel says, letting out a chuckle. He shakes his head. “She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight, y’know?” He pauses for just a brief second and crosses his arms over his chest, his sudden change in position causing his shoulder to press even closer against your own. “Tommy mentioned her to me when we were havin’ lunch together yesterday. Said he’d be willin’ to set us up, but I didn’t think his dumbass would actually follow through with it.”

Confused, you shoot him a strange look.

“I’d told him I wasn’t interested in meetin’ her, but Tommy’s always had a real habit of not listenin’ to me,” he remarks, shaking his head once again.

The question falls from your lips before you can even think about trying to stop it. “Why aren’t you interested in her?” you blurt. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and add in a nonchalant tone, “Esther’s gorgeous, Joel. Most guys around here would jump at the chance to be with her.”

“S’like I told you. She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight.”

“So then, what kind of company are you looking for?”

Joel hesitates, then answers honestly. “Yours.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, your heart skipping a nervous beat.

He tests the waters. “That alright to say?”

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to utter.

Fighting to take a steady, even breath, you clutch at your glass even harder.

“Y’know, when I was on my way out here, I saw Ellie and Dina still sittin’ together,” Joel finally says after a minute or two, breaking the silence. “She honestly seems to be havin’ a real good time with her.” He nudges your shoulder with his own, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turns to you and asks, “Now tell me why I’ve got this strange little feelin’ that you had somethin’ to do with that?”

Your immediate expression of guilt prompts his grin.

You’d been caught red handed.

“Okay, so I may or may not have talked to Dina earlier today while we were setting up the barn for the party. I asked if she could do me a favor and at least try and talk to Ellie tonight,” you admit, sheepishly. “I told her about how much Ellie reminds me of her, and how I thought they would get along.” You feel his dark eyes fix themselves intently on you and the heat creeps to your cheeks as you continue to explain yourself to him. It’s only just now occurred to you that perhaps you should have ran the idea by Joel—he’s her guardian and the last thing you want to do is cross his boundaries. “It took a little convincing, but she agreed. Dina can still be quite shy sometimes, but she’s a really good girl, Joel. I promise.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you, letting his arms fall down to his sides. “Really? You did that?”

“Yeah. I did.” Anxiously, you take a long sip of liquor before adding, “I hope that’s okay.”

“‘Course it is, darlin’. I really appreciate you doin’ that for Ellie.” Joel’s gaze softens and meets yours with genuine sincerity. “I appreciate everythin’ that you’ve done for her. It means a lot to me. More than I can probably even explain.”

“I can tell how important she is to you.”

Joel nods. “Ellie’s the most important thing in the world to me.” He stops, exhaling a long, heavy sigh. “She’s been through a whole lot—a hell of a lot more than anyone her age should have to go through.” Once again, he pauses momentarily, trying to keep his emotions in check. He swallows harshly and subconsciously leans closer towards you without realizing it. “Ellie, she ain’t my blood, but she’s my daughter. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t take care of her. I thought that I didn’t have what it takes to protect her.”

“And what about now?”

“Now that we’re here, I feel real different ‘bout it all. I finally feel like I can keep Ellie safe, y’know? Give her the life she deserves,” Joel states, sounding a bit relieved, almost like he’s only just now made the realization that things are different now—it’s not like it was while they’d been out on the road. Each day isn’t a fight for survival, a game of trying to stay alive long enough just to see the next. Sleeping in the dirt, watching her go hungry, seeing her have to wear the same dirty clothes for weeks at a time, those were all now things of the past.

Pulling yourself back from the fence, you glance up at him with a curious expression.

“Ellie hasn’t told me all that much about what she’s gone through—about what either of you have gone through.” You catch sight of the worry that flashes in his eyes and reassure him, “And I don’t plan on asking because it isn’t any of my business. But in the short time I’ve gotten to know Ellie, I’ve already seen it in her eyes, Joel. It’s all there.”

“What’s there?”

“Every bad thing that’s ever happened to her.”

Joel hangs his head. “Jesus.”

And just like that, he somehow feels like a fucking failure all over again.

“I know that you’re worried about her, Joel. I don’t blame you, but you’re doing all that you can do,” you remind him, the kindness in your voice bringing him the warmth and comfort he’s been needing for far too long. “You’re here in the community now and she’s safe. That’s what matters—all the rest is going to fall right into place soon enough. Just give her a bit of time and don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

Joel sighs. “I just want what’s best for her, y’know? Just like any normal parent would want for their kid.”

“And you are doing the best that you can, just like any normal parent would.” You reach out, gently placing your hand on his bare forearm, your thumb brushing his warm skin. Your mere touch sends a tingle up his spine, and he can’t help but wonder if the connection had done the same for you. “It’s easy to see how much you care about her. How much you love her.”

“I do love her,” he murmurs. It feels odd, almost foreign for him to say it out loud. Of course he loves Ellie, and although he’s fairly certain she knew that and she loved him too, those three specific words had never been exchanged between them, and he had a hunch they never would be. “All I want is to do right by her. After everythin’ she’s been through—I just want her to finally be happy.”

“That says a lot about the kind of man you are.”

Biting back a scoff, Joel shakes his head. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s a good person—you’d be horrified if you knew about all the blood that stained his hands, about all of the things he’d done in the last two decades to survive. He’d stolen, he’d destroyed, he’d murdered. He’d lied.

He was not a good man.

Your hand drops away from his arm, a lot sooner than either of you would have liked.

“So, what’s your story?” he asks, deciding to switch the focus of the conversation onto you. “How’d you end up in good ol’ Jackson, Wyoming?”

“You take another sip of your drink, which is now completely watered down by the melted ice in your glass. “Well, like I told you, I grew up in New Mexico on a horse ranch. It was me, my parents, and my little brother,” you start to explain. “After the outbreak happened, me and my family ended up in the Albuquerque QZ. We were there for quite some time, until there was a breach at one of the gates and the zone was overrun with infected.” You pause briefly as the memories of that night come flooding back. By now, you’ve repressed them enough that they don’t bring you to your knees the way they used to when you had been younger. “Me and my dad made it out alive, but my mom and my brother didn’t.”

Joel frowns. “Shit. M’real sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a tiny nod. “After me and my dad made it out of the zone, we found this group of people who were heading east, trying to get to Boston. It wasn’t long before everyone started to get picked off one by one—by infected, raiders, and even slavers. Somehow, me and my dad survived all that, but we found ourselves alone again. We were starving, had no shelter, and winter was just around the corner. We honestly didn’t know what we were going to do, and even though neither of us ever said it to each other, we were both so sure we were going to die. But then Tommy and his patrol group came across us one night. Once we proved that neither of us were infected, he brought us in.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Joel states. He never would have even guessed.

You just seemed so well put together.

“Haven’t we all?” You let out a humorless laugh.

A silence falls like a curtain over both of you, but it’s comfortable.

Tranquil.

Although it had been a warmer night, it was now much later into the evening, and a chilly breeze whips its way through the settlement, whisking its cool and crisp fingers through your hair. It causes the white daisy you’d been wearing to fall, and the flower flutters to the ground, landing right in between Joel’s boots. Without giving it a second thought, he reaches down and picks it up, being careful as he gingerly dusts the dirt off of the delicate petals. He turns to you, tucking the flower back behind your ear. As his hand falls away from you, his index finger accidentally grazes the soft skin of your cheek, and every part of him floods with the burning desire to feel more of you.

“M’sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say—and you mean it. You can’t even remember the last time someone’s touch set you on fire like this. You’d been feeling cold and empty and numb for so long, and while all of the things that Joel’s making you feel had become almost foreign to you, they’re starting to reignite that spark of life inside of you that you thought you’d lost a long time ago.

From the inside of the barn, you and Joel hear the band begin to play their cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love.

“Elvis, huh?” Joel muses with a hum. He sounds impressed.

You’re not sure if all the alcohol you’d been consuming throughout the evening has only now just decided to kick into full gear in your system or whether you really do just lack any kind of common sense, but you find yourself looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes. “How about another dance?”

His lips part slightly in surprise. “To this song?”

Every inch of your skin burns hot with embarrassment and your fingers curl tighter around your glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I really love to dance,” you sputter out nervously, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. You only dig yourself further into the hole as you continue to ramble. “Luke doesn’t like to dance. He never wants to dance with me—”

That’s all Joel had needed to hear.

He reaches for your glass, prying it out of your grasp. He sets it down on top of the fence and holds his hand out to you. “I’ll dance with you, darlin’.”

Looking up at him in surprise, you accept and place your hand in his. His other hand finds your waist and the two of you begin swaying along to the music—a smile that could light up the entire town breaks out across your face.

Joel didn’t know Luke, but he couldn’t fathom how the man you were married to wouldn’t do just about anything to see that smile.

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t dance,” you tease, noticing that he’s leading you.

Flashing you a cocky grin, he shrugs. “Guess the kid was right. I ain’t so bad for fifty six with creakin’ knees.”

Remembering Ellie’s words from earlier, you throw your head back and laugh.

His stomach turns, twisting in a tangle of desire and nerves.

You’re married.

But that does nothing to stop the want, the need.

For either of you.

Being in his arms, it’s wrong.

It’s more than an innocent dance—it’s the beginning of something that’s bound to lead to nothing but trouble and you both know it.

Joel continues to lead you and begins singing along to the familiar lyrics, quietly, but just loud enough for you to hear the sultry richness of his voice. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” he sings, subconsciously giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

Impressed, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a nice voice, Joel.”

“Y’think so?”

You nod. “I do. What, were you a singer in your first life or something?”

“Close.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“I was a contractor,” Joel replies, grinning as he elicits another sweet laugh from you. “Owned my own construction business with Tommy. I did enjoy singin’ though—and playin’ the guitar too. But it was a hobby more than anythin’ since I don’t think music would’ve paid the bills.”

You smile up at him. “Oh, well now you’re going to have to play the guitar for me sometime. Maybe even treat me to a whole song?”

“I still owe Ellie a song,” he remembers, shaking his head. “But I don’t have a guitar, so it gets me out of it.”

“Well then, we’re going to have to find you one and when we do, you’ll have to play something for us,” you tell him. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Joel agrees without thinking. He starts singing along to the lyrics again. “Take my hand, take my whole life too—”

“But I can’t help falling in love with you.” You try not to laugh again at the shock on his face as you finished the lyric for him.

“Hey now, you’ve got a real nice voice yourself, darlin’.”

Darlin’.

You shouldn’t let him call you that.

Out of respect for your husband, you should tell him it’s not okay. None of this is okay.

But it is okay.

“Oh, now you’re just trying to flatter me, Miller,” you accuse him, playfully.

The song ends and neither of you make a move to let go of one another.

Joel’s eyes fall to your pretty, plush lips and it takes every ounce of strength he has inside of him not to lean down and press his own lips against them.

Finally, he forces himself to let you go and takes a step backward, clearing his throat. “I should, uh—I should go and find Ellie so I can get her home. S’gettin’ kinda late.”

You nod, your heart slamming painfully against your sternum. “Of course,” you say, slightly breathless. “I’ll come along with you so I can say goodnight to her.”

As the two of you make your way around the barn and back towards the entrance, Joel sees a tall, slender man with short dark hair approaching. He’d called out your name and something inside Joel’s mind just clicks together—he knows exactly who the man is before you’ve even had a chance to open your mouth and say his name.

“Luke?” Stopping abruptly in your tracks, you stiffen and squeak out his name. “What—what are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey.” He comes up to you and immediately takes your arm, pulling you from Joel’s side and over to his. “Tommy told me you might be out here. I was just coming to look for you.”

It takes thirty seconds for Joel to size him up. Luke’s younger than himself, definitely closer in age to Tommy—somewhere around his mid to late forties. He’s a lot more clean cut than most of the other rugged men in the commune with his short, neatly kept dark hair and a clean shaven face. Though he’s on the thinner side, he’s in decent shape, but Joel’s wider, broader and far, far more intimidating.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again.

“Now, is that really how a loving wife should greet her husband?” Luke laughs, pulling you even closer into his side.

Joel isn’t all too fond of the way he’s holding you.

He’s rough, harsh.

“I decided to come and check it out. See what all the fuss is about,” Luke says. He glances at Joel, his green eyes giving him a once over—sizing him up, just like Joel had done to him. “Don’t be rude, honey. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend here?”

You speak softly, almost too softly.

“Luke, this is Joel Miller.”

“Ah. You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”

Joel tries not to sound too curt, but fails. “That’s right.”

“Joel, this is Luke.” You can’t even look him in the eye as you introduce your spouse. “He’s my husband.”

Luke extends a courteous hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joel.” His other hand finds and takes yours. “I do hope that my wife here hasn’t been bothering you tonight. She can be quite the little chatterbox. Makes me wish she came with a mute button sometimes.”

Joel’s dark eyes briefly flit to Luke’s hand holding yours, taking note of the way he’s gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Between that and the comment he’d just made about you, Joel had every fucking desire to connect his fist to the side of Luke’s face.

“Luke, please,” you whisper, throwing him a tiny glare.

“Oh come on now, honey. Where did your sense of humor go? You know I’m only joking,” Luke states, squeezing your hand a little harder, causing you to squirm.

Something tells Joel he’s not kidding around.

He’d meant what he had said.

“She hasn’t been a bother at all,” Joel speaks in your defense. “Actually, I came out here to talk to her and to thank her for bein’ so kind to my kid, Ellie. Your wife here, she’s been nothin’ but good to her since we arrived.”

“Well, as long as she wasn’t being a bother.” Luke glances down at you. “If you’ll excuse us, there’s a few people that I still need to see and say hello to inside. Come along, honey.” He glances at Joel, a strange glint in his eye as he tells him, “Welcome to Jackson, Joel.”

His jaw clenches as he watches him drag you into the barn.

Nothing about Luke sat right with him.

The way he’d spoken to you, touched you, treated you.

And then there was you.

The light had instantly left your eyes the second he’d come around.

Something wasn’t right.

A rough hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts.

“Really, Joel? Really? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy hisses, yanking him over to the side of the barn where nobody would overhear him. “What the fuck did I tell you yesterday in the mess hall?”

“The hell are you fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout?”

His brother glares at him. “I know that you ain’t as fuckin’ dumb as you look, Joel. What the fuck were you doin’ out here alone with her? Huh?”

Joel purses his lips together tightly in silence.

What had he seen?

Having read his mind, Tommy shoves his shoulder. “You were dancin’ with her you fuckin’ asshole? Did you fuckin’ forget that she’s a married woman?”

Joel rolls his eyes at him and aggressively shoves his hand off of his shoulder. “We were just dancin’ together, alright? Ain’t like we were makin’ out, Tommy. Can you fuckin’ relax?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Joel! If I saw any man that wasn’t me dancin’ with Maria like that, I’d be fuckin’ pissed. I’d kick his fuckin’ ass,” he spits. “Her husband just showed up to the goddamn party. You’re fuckin’ lucky that it was me who saw you out there with her and not him. What if he’d seen you two? Then what?”

“Christ, Tommy. Relax,” Joel tries again to calm him. “It was just a dance, alright? It was nothin’ more than that. Okay?”

“You listen to me and you listen to me good, ‘cause I ain’t fuckin’ gonna say it again, big brother. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas ‘bout her. I don’t need you to go around stirrin’ up any kind of trouble,” Tommy says, his voice firm. “We can’t have that kinda shit here. Maria won’t tolerate it, and y’know what, I won’t either. Don’t fuckin’ cause problems. Got it?”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Joel mutters, bitterly.

Tommy narrows his eyes at him.

“Just fuckin’ watch yourself, Joel,” he warns. “I fuckin’ mean it.”

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celtic-crossbow · 18 days

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden.

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay.

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly.

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice.

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break?

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.” You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.”

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back.

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #pregnant!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?”

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom.

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off.

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead.

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant..

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

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angelicguy · 7 months

Text

all the toons of toonville USA quickly gathered for my funeral. this was the first death that toonville had ever had within its borders, so the processions were brief and crass. many of them did not know what had happened to me, and arrived jovial with gifts and favors to share with one another.

a whole line of red and blue convertibles filled the one lane street that led to my body. since everyone in town knew each other, they engaged in bright lively conversation about all the sweet memories they had of me. my birthday, my bris, my several rushed visits to the toon hospital were all discussed among the townsfolk who shared their popping candies and hot sodas that they had prepared for the celebration.

Cowboy Frito and Juliet Juniper (one of toonvilles hottest couples) brought a boquet of my favorite treats in apparent memory of me. Dr Lollipop and his beau Beauty Bee were especially excited to witness my body, flayed and broken, as they had never seen one before. Fashionista Frida Frizzlemeister was dressed from head to toe in the most dazzling outfit she had, with a black and white photograph of my own head featured as the centerpiece to her famously glitzy bouquet.

gathered in thousands of seats surrounding my thick, red, plastic coffin, the show was finally on the road. despite being delayed a half hour (the felt arms of the pallbearer made it difficult to actually get the dang thing near my ready grave!), the mood was light, as everyone in attendance were best friends. scattered lines of conversation quickly concluded as Pastor Paisley cleared his throat to begin his eulogy- at least he tried! pranks were all the rage in toonville, and who else but Scoots McBuzz would spit a hot wad of greasegum right at him. Paisley, experienced from his many sunday school classes over the years, grabbed his toupee and ducked down-causing the gum to stick right onto my fisher price brand tomb.

a long pause filled the air, followed by bright laughter at such a farce. in fact, all of toonville decided to cover my final resting place in bits of chewed paper, bottlecaps, smile stickers (the lowest form of their complex currency) and all kinds of knick knacks while hollering with laughter. and what could cap off such a good time like a hearty meal? Chef Al LaRonge had prepared a veritable feast for the hungry attendees, who stuffed their mouths with gooey, cheesy pizza, hot pepper patties and classic peanut butter chocolate superbars.

as the sun set, Mayor Megamouth of toonville declared their first funeral a complete success and thanked everyone for being a part of such a touching event. "he knew every one of you, and would have loved to know he caused such a record turnout among the toontopians!" after cheery "hip, hip, hooray!" and a final goodbye towards my flesh, the now urine-soaked coffin was marched straight into the freshly built mausoleum, the only gravesite to be found in the brand new toonville boneyard.

given the limited use of the land, it was eventually folded into the soda treatment plant. over time, my final resting place became stained with the colors and smell of sarsaparilla, caramel, and beetroot. the foundation eventually buckled beneath the sagging heft of the pop-drenched wood that surrounded my now bleached bones on the fourth of july, the sounds of creaking and splintering masked underneath the no-expenses-spared fireworks show. shapes of cakes and pies filled the air as my remains were carried out to the stinking sea.

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roosterbruiser · 9 months

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐓

Sunlight falls down from the azure sky like a relentless, yellow river. The California heat is pure and spiteful, enough to dot your hairline with sweat and make you occasionally fan yourself. It's new to you. But the heat is good, though--you're going to soak in all the warmth you can before you have to go back to your cavernous house, the one with the unpacked boxes and uncomfortably immaculate tile floors.

Moving houses is always the worst part for you. Not even the packing and unpacking and organizing and grocery shopping, but how stale everything feels. Rooms that are bare. Walls that are empty. Windows that are fingerprint-free. Cabinets without crumbs. Rugs without teething toys and swaddles. Floors without mud.

Everything feels cold at the new house. And it will for a while--you know that now after having moved so many times in the past few years.

From where Jake is standing, just a bit closer to the water with your babbling son in his arms, he watches you. You're laid out on a beach towel, a new one with the tag still on it, and your eyes are closed as you sunbathe. For one of the first time since moving back to California--to Fighter Town, USA--you look restful. Peaceful.

"Look at mama," he says to your son, a smile tugging on his lips. He's bouncing where he stands, the sun beating down on his shoulders. "Isn't she pretty, huh?"

Your son babbles, little pink tongue poking out as he grins toothlessly at Jake, squinting at the sun. He adjusts his straw hat--the adorably small one that makes his heart squeeze every time--and presses a soft kiss to his feathery eyebrows.

"She looks so happy, doesn't she, baby? Doesn't she?" He asks, grinning. "Mama's what we call solar-powered."

Your sun grins back--an identical, squinty-eyed, wide grin. And when Jake laughs, your son echoes him.

"Twins," you whisper to yourself when the warm breeze carries the sound of your boys to you. And then you sigh contentedly, sinking further into the sand. "My boys."

"Oh, we're making her smile," Jake sing-songs. He tickles your son's belly and his laughter erupts from his wet lips like a sweet song. "Just look at that!"

"I can hear you!" You call, grinning.

Cupping your hand over your eyes, squinting to see Jake and your son. And there they are, watching you, grinning the same grin. Your tall, broad husband and your little, chubby baby. Your heart couldn't get any fuller if you tried it--you're certain of it.

"Oh, we've been caught!" Jake says, gasping. He looks at your son and your son looks at him, babbling and giggling and slobbering. "Quick! Distract her! Do something cute!"

At all the attention and enthusiasm from his father, your son dissolves in giggles. They're deep and hearty, straight from his belly.

"It worked," you call to them, tongue swollen with affection.

"Knew it would," he says back, high-fiving your sons curled hand. "We make a good team, bud."

Jake turns to look out at the water--the endless blue and the creamy foam. He's missed California, always finds himself dreaming about it. He glances at you again--your smooth skin, your slack face. He's glad that there is at least sunshine here. Enough to keep you warm.

He wonders, as your son reaches up to tug on Jake's sunglasses, if this is where your children will grow up. Will they dip their toes in the water after school? Will they go surfing with their friends on the weekends? Will they have an extensive seashell collection? Will there always be sand in the carpet? Will their hair be forever permeated with saltwater? Will their skin always be sun kissed and warm?

And you--will you adapt to California? Will you bask in the sun after dropping the kids off at school? Will you find all the good wine spots for date night? Will you wear flow dresses and always have bare feet? Will you keep sunscreen in your purse and always have a few pairs of sunglasses on your person at all times?

More than anything, in this single moment, Jake wants to stay for a while. No more moving--for himself, for your son, for you. Especially for you.

𓇼 𓇼 𓇼

There is sand everywhere: in your hair that is still damp with saltwater, wedged between your skin and the wet swimsuit you're still wearing, underneath Jake's fingernails, between your son's toes.

It squishes underneath your feet as you bounce softly, holding your son in your arms.

"Easy goes it," you whisper softly to your son, cradling his soft head as you ease his body--which is heavy with sleep--down onto the mattress of his crib. You know you're going to have to shake the sheets out once he wakes up--sand is still crumbling out of his hair. "Poor baby. Couldn't even make it through a bath, huh? Daddy tuckered you out with all that swimming, huh? Didn't he?"

The room is dark--blackout curtains are always the first thing Jake installs in the nursery--and cool, the sound machine int he corner lulling ocean sounds aloud.

Jake stands in the doorway, leaning up against the frame, still in just his swimming trunks. He watches you caress your son's pudgy cheek, watches you bend at the hips to kiss his face like you always do. His heart squeezes when he glances around the mostly-bare room. He thinks all the heat in this room, every bit of it, must be coming from you and your love.

For a long, long moment, you just watch your baby. You see so little of yourself in your own child, which you used to think would bother you. But you love Jake so much--an overwhelming, unmeasurable amount--that it only feels natural for that love to multiply in the form of a smaller version of him. And he's there, sleeping on his seashell-printed sheets, his lips parted as he drools.

"C'mon, mama," Jake whispers to you. "We've got a hot shower calling our names."

Stroking his soft hair, you inhale all the salt and sun on his skin. Your sweet, sweet boy with sand still in his hair and messing his sheets. Your heart swells at the simple notion of something being genuinely messy for the first time since moving.

"I'm coming," you whisper. "Just give me a minute."

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dear-bunnyboo · 9 months

Note

can I please request a dad!joe x reader where the reader is joe’s wife and they have a four year old daughter who wants a pet dog and she keeps begging her mom for one but the reader says to go ask daddy cause she knows joe is a bit hesitant to have pets at home especially dogs but joe folds instantly when their daughter ask.

dad!joe… uhm, yes please— joe is such a dilf in every aspect that writing this request made even more sense than it already did. i hope you guys enjoy <3

𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐒 & 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dad!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Joe isn’t really a dog person but your daughter is and she will do absolutely anything to get her daddy to buy her one.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: some light cursing, cuteness overload, fluff, dad!joe, cute family moments

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A light haze filled the atmosphere painting the sky a color gradient of orange and blue. You were enamored by sounds of the chirping of the birds that was accompanied by your daughter’s soft humming— Aurora “Rory” Burrow, who just turned four last month, was quietly walking beside you as she picked up a few dandelions from the ground— humming and skipping as she walked.

Earlier this morning, Rory up ran to you with much more bounce on her step as usual— she politely asked you if you could take her to the park so she could pick flowers for her daddy— the sentiment almost bringing you to tears as you enthusiastically agreed to the idea.

Your husband, Joe has been on the road for three days now for his games and he will be returning tonight— Joe has been working hard and endlessly throughout the season and because of that Rory wants to surprise him.

You later suggested to Rory that you could go and buy flowers at the nearest flower shop from your house but she simply shook her head, no— her little pigtails shaking profusely.

“No! I pick flowers for daddy, mama,” she babbles lifting her chubby arms up showing you her pink princess basket— silently implying that she will be picking those flowers for her daddy.

Seeing the serious yet determined look in her soft face made you giggle in reply. Her baby blue eyes, that shadows Joe’s looking at you with a pleading look as if almost asking you to not stop her.

Nodding your head, you placed kisses after kisses on her soft face— from her cute and squishy cheeks to her forehead, tickling her in the process, earning you a squeal and a hearty laugh from Aurora.

“Of course you can pick daddy flowers, baby! Pick all the flowers you want! Mommy will help you.”

Watching her humming and skipping with her pink basket and denim overalls, you couldn’t help but fawn over your daughter’s love for Joe.

Rory was a daddy’s girl— she has been since day one. She loved spending time with you, from playing her toys with you, dressing up and shopping with you but whenever Joe is around she almost always needs to have his attention— and you don’t blame her, your baby girl got it from you after all.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard a soft gasp come from Rory’s mouth.

Looking down you see her cradling her pink basket that was filled to the brim with flowers, however, all her attention was focused on the shop in front of her— that is when you noticed that you two have reached a pet adoption center.

From the corner of your eyes you see Rory up against the glass with her face pressed up on it— her baby blues moving in a lightning pace as she looked at the animals up for adoption in their little houses.

“Mommy, look! Doggy mama! Doggy is sleeping!” Rory whisper yelled as she pointed her small fingers on the glass.

Joining her from her spot, you watched as the small furry brown dog that Rory has been eyeing lifted its head up and carefully watched her before bouncing up and down— its tails wagging excitedly.

The four year old was now jumping up and down copying the dog before turning to you with her big blue eyes and her hands clasped together on her chest, her basket of flowers hanging off her arm.

“Mommy can we get doggy? Pwease? Doggy my fwend.” Rory asked as she continued to look at you with pleading eyes, her baby voice finding it’s way to your heart.

Fuck

You’re screwed.

“Why don’t we go inside and ask the lady about the doggy first, okay, baby?” You crouched to reach her level, negotiating to the best of your abilities.

“Owkay, mommy.” She nodded and smiled at you like the good girl she is.

One thing about your daughter is that no matter how much you and Joe spoil her she was always so polite— from such a young age, whenever she wanted something she would say please, whenever you or Joe say would no to her requests— she nods her little head and says “that’s owkay, next time only.” She is their sweetest girl which is why both you and Joe spoil her anyway because of how polite and understanding she is.

With her small hands grasping on your own— the two of you walked inside the shop, greeting you was one of the employees of the shop.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” She smiles at you and Aurora who waves her little hand, “Hello.”

“Hi, we are wondering about that puppy over there?” You pointed at the brown dog Rory wanted.

The lady nodded her head with a smile before walking over and opening the puppy’s enclosure— the tiny little thing was cradled in her hand. She knelt down towards Rory who had her small arms out already— her mouth open ajar and her eyes wide watching the puppy in awe.

“This is a Maltipoo— a crossbreed between a Maltese and a Poodle.” the lady explains as she carefully placed the puppy onto your daughters awaiting arms, the puppy automatically nuzzled itself closer to Aurora making you pull out your phone from your pocket and taking numerous photos of your daughter.

“This one right here is a ginger Maltipoo and it’s a girl and she is just nine months old— are thinking of adopting her?” She asks and in turn Rory looks up at you again with those pleading eyes.

“Pwease, mommy. She’s my fwend.” your daughter says as she carefully smooshes her cheeks against the puppy’s soft fur.

With a sigh, you crouch down next to her, “My, love we cannot get her now, okay?–” with that said Rory’s little face saddens in dejection as she hugged the puppy closer towards her but nevertheless your ever so sweet girl nodded her head, her baby blue eyes slowly turning misty making your heart ache in the process.

Fuck it you’ll let Joe deal with this.

“How about this— we wait for daddy to come home tonight and you give him the beautiful flowers you picked up earlier and then we ask him if we can get the doggy, okay?” you smiled at her, caressing her soft cheeks to prevent her from crying.

Aurora nodded her head enthusiastically at the reminder of Joe— instantly loving the idea of her daddy meeting her new furry friend.

“Good girl. We need to head home now and wait for daddy— now say goodbye to your friend, we will see her again soon.”

Nodding her head, Rory carefully placed the puppy down on the ground, petting its head as she mumbled her farewell to the dog.

While your daughter was occupied, you turned to the lady next to you and whispered, “Put her on hold for me and can you please prepare the necessary papers cause I’m a hundred percent sure we will be back tomorrow.” You offered a grateful smile before lifting Rory up, carrying her cause she looked exhausted from walking, her arms circling around your neck with her fingers still tightly holding onto her basket.

Before reaching the door you felt movement at the back of your neck— Rory was fiddling with her basket of flowers, turning around, the little girl in your arms, raised her hand as she held out one of the daisies she picked.

“Thank you for taking care of my fwend doggy!” She mutters with a yawn before reaching out to hand it to the lady who held her hand to her chest in awe.

“Thank you.” You bid goodbye, placing a kiss on Rory’s forehead as she nuzzled into your neck— her breath steadying as she lulls herself to sleeps.

Your sweetest girl.

Once you reached home, you tucked Aurora in bed for her nap before cooking dinner and tidying up the house for Joe’s arrival— your husband just texted you saying that he was on his way home and you couldn’t be more excited.

The wide range of flowers that Rory had picked out was now tied together with the sparkly pink ribbon that she made earlier this morning— the once scattered and separated flowers now forming a bouquet.

An hour has passed and your little girl waddles out of her room, her tiny hands rubbing the remnants of sleep in her eyes as she clutches her tiger plushy with her other hand.

And before she could even ask, the gates of your house opened, the sound of the car engines filling your ears— Joe is home.

You couldn’t help the smile forming your face as you looked at the main door— you missed Joe, it’s has only been three days and you couldn’t help but think about the cliche of it feeling like three years.

“Daddy is home, baby!” You whispered to Rory as you handed her the baby bouquet of flowers she’s going to give Joe.

And on queue, Joe walks in the front door in all his glory— his luggage and duffel bag on both his hands completely discarded as Aurora bounded straight at him.

“Daddy!”

Joe catches Rory mid jump, cradling her to his chest— his stature making your daughter look smaller than she already was.

“Hi, princess. Daddy missed you so much.” Joe says as he kissed all over Rory’s face making her giggle.

“Miss you too, Daddy. Daddy, look! I pick flowers for you!” Rory proudly lifted up the bouquet of flowers in her hand and presented it to Joe with a huge smile on her face— a smile your husband has always claimed was yours.

Joe took one look at the flowers and he beamed instantly— taking the bouquet from his daughters hands, his fatigue from the training, the games, and the flight instantly melting away.

“Did you pick them, baby?” Joe asked still carrying his daughter who was now playing with his hair.

“Yes, mommy helped me!” Rory smiles before pressing her face deeper into the crook of Joe’s neck.

With that said, Joe lifted his head, his baby blues meeting yours as you leaned against the wall watching your two loves.

Joe sauntered towards you, landing himself in front of your face— his frame easily towering over you as he continued to softly rub Rory’s back who was still recovering from her nap.

“Hey, mama.” Joe smirked at you before leaning down and catching your lips in his— your husbands lips soft as you can remember, kissing you delicately with so much passion.

“Missed you so much, Joey.” you murmured, placing your head at the other side of his neck, facing Rory who was fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

“Missed you too, baby— so fucking much.” Joe whispered for only you to hear, placing a kiss on both your forehead and Rory’s.

Something must have reminded Rory about today cause she gasps so hard, she scared you and Joe out of your little bubble.

“What is it, Rory?” Joe asked worriedly as he watched her wiggle down from his hold.

“Daddy! I met a new fwend today!” she smiled up at him as she bounced up and down.

Oh shit. Here we go.

“Oh yeah? Where did you meet them, princess?” Joe chuckled while sitting himself down on the sofa, Aurora trailing after him.

“At the pet store, daddy— and mommy said to ask you before we take her home with us!” She continued to gush, placing herself onto Joe’s lap.

In an instant Joe’s eyes snap towards you— his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You simply sat down next to him, “I’m sorry” you mouthed at him— apologizing for putting him on the spot to decide for his daughter.

“The doggy, my fwend daddy! Can we get her pwease? Pwease daddy?— she’ll get lonely. Please?” Rory looks straight into Joe’s eyes who was staring at her stoically.

Joe likes his peace and his space. That peace is his safe place— which was your house. The house you two built even when you two were just dating— this space is where he rests both his body and mind, away from the hustle and bustle of his career.

Joe loves his job but sometimes, he needs his peace and quiet— having Aurora didn’t disrupt his peace or his space in any way. In fact your little girl improve it.

Joe would play with Rory, sleep with her on his chest, watch Disney movies with her, and he would call it rest.

Now a dog, a puppy no less— in your head will disrupt your husband’s peace and quiet for sure. Which is why you were so hesitant to say yes to Rory earlier today.

Joe loves animals, he really does, but owning one is not something he has the time for— especially dogs. In all of your years of knowing Joe, he has always been more of a cat person— which made sense considering he is a giant cat himself, attitude wise.

Understandably so, Joe was hesitant to even open his mouth but upon looking down his little girl, both you and Joe knew the answer to her question.

“A doggy is a big responsibility, baby. You have to take care of her.”

That’s a yes.

“Yes daddy!”

“You have to bathe her and feed her, my love.” Joe continues.

That’s a yes.

“I will, daddy!”

“You also have to take her to walk and play.”

You weren’t sure if Joe was reminding Aurora of her newfound responsibilities or if he was psyching himself out for his new responsibilities— that’s still a yes though.

“I pwomise I’ll take good care of her, daddy.”

And just like that you three found yourself at the same adoption center the next day— Joe was signing the papers you have asked for the previous day as Rory cradles the puppy she now calls Goldie, animatedly talking to her new friend.

“Thank you, Mr and Mrs. Burrow! I’ll be right back with the remaining items and then you’re free to go.” The lady says before excusing herself to pack all the additional stuff we bought for Goldie— ranging from a pink fluffy bed to every dog clothes one could own.

You and Joe quietly watched Rory play with Goldie with smiles on your faces.

You turned to your husband with a smirk on your face, “You just couldn’t help it can you?” you teased him, implying his lack of control when it comes to spoiling his daughter.

Joe looks at you with his eyebrow raised, “She has those puppy dog eyes, baby. How could I say no to that? And she’s an angel so why not?” He shrugged as if he didn’t just spend half a million dollars on a puppy.

“Those are your eyes, Joey baby” you point out the exact likeness of Aurora and Joe’s eyes— your favorite baby blues.

“Yeah? But those are your techniques, my love— if I’m not mistaken.” Your husband turns his body towards you, leaning his face closer to yours.

“The begging, the pouting, the puppy dog eyes. Rory might have my eyes, baby— but that right there, that’s all you, mama.” Joe mutters under his breath as he pointed at Rory who was busy playing with Goldie right next to you.

“Got me giving you everything you wanted, huh? She got it from you, you know?” Joe chuckles as he watches the redness creep up your cheek upon the realization.

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked at Joe up and down before saying, “Don’t complain now. You love spoiling me— now you have two of us.”

“I’m not complaining, my love, just stating the facts— and yes I do love spoiling you. Love spoiling both my girls.”

dividers: @cafekitsune

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @jackkyhughes @h0e4fictionalme-n @queenmendes @rd14 @scoobydoopoo @estapa94 @karmasabitchybitch @literaturelustrr @toterry @fangirl-madz @atticusismybae @stargaryenx @haydee5010 @porter113 @ryiamarie @starrgir1 @flwries @slafgoalskybaby

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883 notes · View notes

cod-sins · 9 months

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed

[A/N: I didn't proofread this so if you see a mistake no you did not.]

[Edit: I can't seem to add a read more option fellow mobile users I am so sorry]

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 ‣. I see König standing at a whopping 6'10 (because I say so) meaning he's a big guy. He has trouble finding clothes that fit his size (especially pants). He gets alot of his civilian clothes tailored or he just has his Oma [ :')] do it for him. I imagine he wears a size 49 in European shoes (16 for Americans) and he prefers boots and sneakers instead of sandals and loafers. His usual outfits include plain colored tees, a jacket (usually dark colors; black, navy blue, hunter green), sweatpants [show off that dickprint] and combat boots. König doesn't wear his hood out in public, so he settles for black or blue surgical masks. He doesn't want to draw anymore attention to himself so dressing casual is his way to go. He's got big meaty thighs and hard abs with a sharp prominent v-line (mwah) to tie it all together.

‣. König has a cleft lip! It's on the right side of his mouth, he hated it as a child but grew up to realize it was apart of him. He has scars on his forearm from a hostile trying to slash him. They run deep and it was a pretty painful experience for him (he hates talking about it and he tries to wear long sleeved clothes but sometimes the weather ends up winning). He also has a bullet scar on his thigh as well. He keeps his nails short except one or two just in case he needs to pick something or scratch. I imagine his hair to be a soft strawberry blonde color. Something like this, this, and this. Because of the military he keeps it very short but he likes when his s/o styles it around. It looks similar to these styles. Despite what canon says I say his eyes are deep green.

‣. König is a Libra! His birthdate is August 22, 1995! [I know Libra's aren't born in August but for the sake of fanfiction shhhh let's pretend it is!] Making König 27 years old; He's very mature for his age!

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 ‣. König suffered from anxiety/social anxiety since he was 17 and still suffers till this day just not as much. He's able to turn it off in the field but once he's on leave and is around other civilians it comes crawling back. It has stopped him from making friends, hanging out with his fellow soldiers and even dating. He's still a virgin because of this (and because of work and him finding the right person but that's a later issue). However once you get past that shy exterior he's pretty cocky. He's proud of the fact that he is a colonel and he enjoys secretly flexing on his s/o. "Ja, I took down a group of terrorists and saved all the hostages by myself. No big deal (👀)." He's one of those quiet people who talks alot of shit in their head and sends side eyes instead of starting shit.

‣. König is relatively good at hiding his anger, especially since he wears that mask 24/7. He'll quietly brood in the corner--arms crossed giving off an aura that spooks the new recruits. He's very quiet not speaking unless spoken too or if he needs something. König is so sarcastic! He'll roll his eyes (secretly) or mumble smart comments under his breath––mocking whatever superior that pissed him off. If you're close to you him you'll notice when he's happy. He has a slight bounce in step and he walks with his chest puffed up proudly. It's a real cute sight honestly.

𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ‣. König's favorite colors are earthy tones. He likes dark woodsy green, russet and navy blue. I imagine he loves the ocean and water. Especially creeks! Winter may not be his favorite season but he loves hiking through the snow in his hometown's nature trails. He enjoys hearing the sound of the snow and dead leaves crunch under his footsteps. Speaking of hometown his favorite dishes are things like beef stew or anything meaty and hearty. He really likes homemade jams and jellys. He prefers going to the farmers market and picking up his fruits and vegetables fresh.

‣.This man's house is HUGE. It would look maybe something like this. It's super spacious with a few spare rooms for guests. König showers more than he bathes. He's legs are too long to fit which makes him have to awkwardly scrunch himself up. He isn't around much because of his work so he never took to the time to properly decorate. If you're his s/o he gives you permission to decorate. Make it look really pretty for him please. He lives somewhere a little distant from the city; closer to the country but not too far. He still wants to be close to local shopping markets.

‣.I think König would prefer a fat/chubby partner over a thinner partner. He enjoys grabbing onto their body, holding them closely feeling the warmth radiate from their body. I see him liking a partner who is quiet. Not as quiet as him because he likes when your chatter fills the silence. But someone who's able to relax and enjoy the ambience of their surroundings. Someone who is able to point out the little details in things. He wouldn't mind an outgoing s/o, someone who speaks for him when he doesn't feel verbal that day.

König was once stationed by an ocean for half a year and it was the best moments of his life. It was so calming for him. Every night he could hear the waves gently crashing against each other it always soothed him. It was favorite lullaby (after the one his mom sings).

König always has his hands held behind his back or he holds them in the front. He enjoys grabbing parts of himself it helps keep him stable and grounded. He also fiddles alot. Like he constantly stretches and wiggles his fingers. Or he lightly traces his thighs up and down with his fingers.

One of his favorite genres of music is Electro Swing. His favorite band is Caravan Palace. He loves all their albums.

100% picks people up. If you're his s/o and you're in his way he's grabbing you by the waist and gently moving you over. If you're on the battlefield god knows he's treating you like a football; bro is slugging you over his shoulder if you get injured or he's tackling you down to protect you from grenades.

If he's stutters too much in a sentence he gets really mad. He doesn't find it funny when people mock his accent. Also!! There are certain English words that König just doesn't know. He's fluent in English and can write well but there are times he gets stuck on words he doesn't recognize.

Has a thing for chubby cheeks. Also really likes chubby fingers. If you have fat fingers please give him a massage, he would love it so much. It's such a nice contrast too; his rough calloused hands compared to your soft round ones.

Looves chocolate. Especially dark chocolate, he really enjoys candy bars with nuts and toffee in them. He adores American super-sized candy bars. He also really likes twizzlers and licorice.

He doesn't outwardly smoke but if you offer he won't refuse. He's makes sure not to make it a habit (his grandmother was very upset when she caught him smoking once), he'd rather die by a bullet than slowly kill himself.

I know I said he's 27 but I imagine him to be 35 in canon.

NATURE LOVER! Bro is enamored by the beauty of his home country. He loves observing the wildlife on walks. He has a journal where he keeps different leaves from different places he was stationed at.

Good friends with Horangi. Not like BFFS (they are) but they're drinking buddies. Horangi helps König with his social anxiety and König helps Horangi not fall back into gambling.

König's favorite meat ever is lamb. He fucking loves a tender lamb roast. Gets annoyed as hell when the meat get stuck between his gums but he thinks it's worth it for the delicious food.

Pretty particular about his beers, he doesn't drink anything he's a man of class! He'll go on this super long lecture about how German brewing is so much better than other countries and that non-German beer/alcohol can't compete. Him and Soap got into an argument about this.

He keeps his area as tidy as possible. He isn't a slob but isn't a complete neat freak. If he has a bunch of random items out he'll try and keep them in a organized pile.

Sometimes he leaves his guns out around his house.

Lowkey likes being needed. There are times when his fellow soldiers ask him for help carrying extra stuff or when children or the elderly ask him to reach stuff off the top shelves. Especially likes when his s/o ask him to carry them. He'll start to puff his chest out and walk around with a dumb grin under his mask.

Type of guy to see people down an asle and wait for them to move instead of saying excuse me. [Projecting fr fr]

A real crafty individual, his hood is just a tee-shirt with holes in it. His helmet is literally a bicycle helmet he modded with military gear. König knows how to sew and he can tailor a little. He prefers taking his clothes to a seamstress or tailor because his hands are very big and sewing can a take a long time and he doesn't have that much patience for it.

He LOVED arts and crafts as a child. He would make so much shit to bring him to his mom and grandma. His grandmother still has his things till this day.

His favorite English speaking bands would be The Smiths, Boâ and The Cranberries. He likes to quietly sing to himself it makes him happy. He also enjoys 70-80s music. I also think he likes the sound of nu metal/rock instrumentals.

If he had an s/o he would love to dance with them. He would/could never dance in public but behind closed doors god knows this man would shimmy with his partner. He doesn't care if you can dance well because he can't dance well, he just wants to let loose and have fun with you.

Broke a guy's ribcage once. It was during sparring and König was pretty pissed with the man because he did something cocky and stupid that caused them the life of another soldier. He didn't receive proper punishment because they successfully completed the mission but König decided he should deal his own form of justice. By putting so much pressure on his chest until he heard a satisfying crack sound.

I think he likes apple cider.

He was raised by his mother and grandmother so he has a softer spot towards woman. He enjoys being in their company.

Smells like one of those fireplace candles or something with sandlewood and cinnamon. On the battlefield thought he reeks of blood, sweat and gunpowder.

Absolutely hates when there is dirt under his nails (or anyone else's). He thinks it looks so gross it makes him wanna vomit.

His favorite animal is probably either a bear or fox. He also likes pigs, he thinks the little piglets are so cute.

König is texter not a caller. He'll send his s/o paragraphs of texts instead of small individual ones because he thinks the notifications would be annoying and the last thing he wants to be is annoying (please convince him he's not).

He always plans out conversations in his head. Before going to check-out he's going through a mental rundown of what the total is gonna be, how he's gonna pay and what the cashier is going to say. Being in the military lowkey made this worse. He's always over analyzing conversations because he's afraid of messing up and embarrassing himself.

He likes drama movies and psychological horror. Midsommar is one of his favorite horror movies.

König has stretch marks on his thighs and legs and a little on his stomach. His growth spurt was crazy as a child.

Requests: OPEN

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

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perlelune · 3 months

Note

Hey love! Amazing work for your NDA coriolanus fic, I was wondering if he would ever marry the reader or if she would remain only one of the girls he fucks. How would the wedding be & his son's reaction? Thanks love!

You fidget in the dress, checking your reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times you look, you can't help but feel that you're looking at a stranger.

But it's to be expected. The beautiful, pristine white dress wasn't your choice. It was Coriolanus'. Just like everything about this day. Right down to the choice of appetizers, the flower arrangements, the way the guests are seated. The president was adamant. Everything needed to be perfect. Nothing but the best for his lady.

His First Lady...

Dread swirls in your gut. You still cannot believe it is to be your title.

You always knew he meant to have you in every way he could. He makes it clear by the way he holds you beneath him in the bedroom, possessive hands trailing bruises over your hips and thighs.

But this...This is madness.

"Mama! You're so pretty!"

Martius runs towards you, his gummy smile on full display. He recently lost his front tooth and hasn't stopped bragging excitedly about his new "big boy" teeth coming in soon ever since.

You pick him up and hold him on your hip.

"Hey, sweetie," you greet, giving him a warm smile. You force cheerfulness in your tone. "Ready to be the flower boy?"

The little boy nods excitedly. You didn't choose to be a mother, especially so young, but Martius grows on you each day. It also helps that he and Laertes get along like brothers.

Noise erupts from outside the bridal tent, Pandora's frustrated voice reaching your ears, "President, you cannot see the bride before the wedding. It's bad luck-"

"I will see my fiancé whenever I please."

The familiar baritone has your stomach clutching in dreadful expectation.

You send him a feeble smile as he enters the bridal suite.

Bad luck... You almost laugh. You couldn't care less if the President sees you before the wedding. You've already been cursed. Trapped to be his forever. Beaming at the crowd besides your tyrannical husband, which you've slowly come to realize Coriolanus is. A vicious, heartless tyrant.

He approaches you and cradles your face. His blue eyes flare as he drinks you in. Your insides stir in discomfort. You know that look. All too well.

"Perfect, just like I knew you'd be, dove. Everything is just...perfect." He gestures at your little brother. "Laertes, come here, my boy. Doesn't your sister look absolutely stunning?"

Your brother's spine straightens as he gets up, making sure to properly hold the two rings lying on the pillow in his lap. Coriolanus insisted for your brother to be the ring bearer. You despise that. You wish Laertes wasn't a part of this at all.

He grimaces while glancing at you. "Ew...I mean, yes sir."

Your brother's reply draws a hearty chuckle from him. He then lifts Martius from your arms, putting him down before instructing, "Now, boys, why don't you go play outside?" He turns to you, his lids sagging as his fingers begin to trace the side of your white bodice, lingering on your waist. "I'd like some time with my bride before the ceremony."

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shotmrmiller · 4 months

Text

It's cold, isn't it?

a secret santa gift fic event from @bunnyreaper for @perfinn! hope i didn't disappoint. un-beta'd sorry for any mistakes

18+ mdni smut :)

i tried to keep it under 1.5k i swear

It’s a week before Christmas, and you thank the stars that Johnny came home to you this year. Holidays are a rarity— given his dedication to his job. So whenever he is here, you treasure every single moment, like now, as you watch him tip his head back and eat the whipped cream that’s supposed to garnish your hot cocoa.

“Johnny.”

Startling at the sound of your voice, he spins to face you with a radiant smile.

“Good mornin’, hen!”

He opens his thick arms wide, beckoning you into a hug and you walk up and wrap yours around his trim waist— placing your chin on his chest as you look up at him. With half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, you respond.

“Morning, love. Surely that wasn’t the whipped cream I said not to eat that I just saw you guzzle down?”

He grimaces.

“Och, never mind that. Listen, bonnie. Ye wanna go skatin’ on ice? The rink is open today.”

You eagerly agree with a nod. How Johnny remembered your love for ice skating— even though you mentioned it in passing— makes your heart flutter.

‘A’right then, go change.”

Johnny kisses your forehead before sending you off to get changed with a roguish smile and a playful swat to your bottom.

Cheeky Scot.

“And stop eating my whipped cream!”, giggling to yourself when you hear the fridge door slam closed.

—

Once dressed, you walk to the living room and notice Johnny facing away from you, sipping tea— broad back flexing with the movement. How tight his shirt fits over the expanse of his traps and shoulders but flows loosely around the waist should be criminal.

You hear him clear his throat and realize he had turned around while you ogled him.

“See somethin’ ye like?” Johnny asked with a smirk.

Your facial expression shifts to mirror his.

“Always do, Johnny boy,” and it brings a hearty chuckle out of him.

“Right then, let’s get movin’. Dinnae wanna get there when it’s busy.”

He shrugs on his jacket before approaching you and pulls on one of your beanie’s pom poms— looking at you with liquid blue eyes.

His voice brimming with adoration, he utters, "Yer beautiful.” Johnny possesses the extraordinary talent of making you feel beautiful, no matter what you look like. Even in this instance— dressed in plain black leggings and a giant sweater.

Flustered, you say, “You’re just saying that because you want me to return the compliment.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed.

“Naw, ah know I’m devastatin,” and the waggish smile he gives you is, in fact, devastating.

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you lightly shove his shoulder, "Alright, alright! I get it, you're prettier than me!” and then turn to leave when Johnny hooks his fingers into your belt loops and drags you back to him. His eyes gaze into yours, filled with intensity, before he leans in to shower your neck with gentle kisses.

“I’m not leavin’ that thought to fester in that pretty little head o’ yers,” and it’s unnerving how well Johnny knows you— reads you like a book.

You whimper and grab onto his shirt as he sucks on the delicate skin.

“No one,” kiss “in existence” kiss “is prettier than ye, sweetheart. Not even me.” and your cheeks burn at his confession.

Then he chuckles softly, “Although, I’m a close second.”

You let out a peal of laughter at that, before giving him a sweet, tender kiss.

—

The cold wind stings your cheeks as you twist and turn on the ice but you could be out here for hours. It’s rather comical how ordinary dancing can make you seem like you’ve got two left feet but once you step onto the skating rink, your movements become as smooth as flowing water.

Springing into the air with your right knee bent and straightening your legs, crossing at the ankles— with your arms up to your chest, one hand gripping the other wrist— you rotate once, then twice, before landing on your opposite foot on the outside edge of the blade, and slow down as you skate backward.

You’re jolted back into reality with the sound of people clapping. Oh. Biting your lip, you briskly skate around the Christmas tree in the rink and head towards the spot Johnny’s standing in, seeking solace in his arms. As you approach the rink corner, he immediately swallows you in a wordless embrace. Read like a book.

“Ye looked in yer element, bonnie. Dinnae worry ‘bout them,” he said with a proud smile.

The embarrassment from earlier combined had you warm and with Johnny's praise, you feel like you’re burning up. So you unzip your sweater open to cool off when he quickly grabs the front to pull you in closer.

You’re about to ask what he’s doing when you notice his sky-blue eyes focused on your chest, pupils expanding as he finally notices your breasts through your shirt— nipples pebbled from the freezing weather.

He reaches to roll a hardened bud between his thumb and pointer as he murmurs, “And where are yer underclothes?” and you respond with a mischievous grin.

Johnny flicks his eyes to yours and resolutely nods to himself before lifting you above the wall of the rink—effortlessly placing you over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure about where this is going, and a rush of anticipation tightens your core.

With a swift motion, he swings open the cargo space door, sheds his jacket, and places you softly on top of it—resting on the folded flat seats of the SUV. After untying your skates and placing them aside, he crawls in and firmly shuts the door behind him.

You spread your legs invitingly, and he slides himself into the gap. Then leans in, his mouth meeting yours in an all-consuming kiss, and you moan into it as his tongue languidly entangles with yours— grinding your center into his clothed erection.

Johnny lightly nips at your bottom lip before releasing it to ask, “Are ye wearin’ any knickers, hen?” and you shake your head, eliciting a groan from him.

He drags your shirt up, warming his cold hand on the soft of your tummy— your skin goose-pimpling at the feeling before he dips that hand under the waistband of your leggings.

His icy touch on your scorching cunt is a sensation you’ll never forget. The temperature play sends a jolt up your spine, lighting up your nerves and you gasp out a visible breath into the chilly air of the car. Johnny rubs tight little circles on your slippery clit before he grunts, and rips a hole in your leggings— tossing your legs over his shoulders.

You’re keening at his warm mouth on your cunt— a stark contrast to the coldness of his hands. Johnny drags his tongue between your folds and then lazily circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. He eats your pussy like a starved man as he licks and nips your cunt and the coil in your lower tummy threatens to snap— thighs shakily squeezing his head and he digs his fingers into the meat of your hips. He licks from your slit to your swollen nub before he oh so lightly sucks on it and you shatter. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes into your body, sending sharp prickles down to your toes. Johnny moans as flattens his tongue against your pulsating clit, helping you ride out your orgasm— prolonging your pleasure.

Limbs completely lax and your body pliable, you lie there and watch him take his thick cock out— give it two strokes before leaning over you with one hand and lining up against your slit with the other.

Johnny sinks to the hilt and you stretch with a stinging burn against his assault. You are so bloody sensitive but he blessedly lets you get accommodated to the feel of him. He comes down to his elbows, encasing your head, and slowly rolls his hips— making you reach up to curl your hands around his arms, nails digging into the meat of his biceps. Your eyes close at the vivid feeling of him filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix when he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“Keep those eyes on me, sweetheart,” he whispers as he skillfully maneuvers his hips to hit that sweet spot deep inside you, where ecstasy blooms and dreams begin.

With each unwavering thrust, he propels you closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each passing second. Your gummy walls are swollen from your previous orgasm, and you think you can feel the veins on this length with each drag of his heavy cock. The wet sounds from your pussy as he vigorously fucks you and the feel of his bollocks slapping against your arse is almost too much. Suddenly, Johnny grinds his hips, and the exquisite touch of his neatly groomed curls against your clit causes you to explode. You shatter with a scream and he gives you eight more slow but firm strokes before muffling a loud moan into your neck as your cunt milks him dry— your walls squeezing rhythmically around his twitching length that spurts his seed against the entrance of your womb.

As you both come down for your high, the sound of your ragged breathing echoes throughout the car. The windows have become foggy, a sign of the stark contrast in temperature between the passionate moments shared inside and the frigidity of the outside world.

With one final kiss, he pulls out with a grunt. Your eyes are closing from the exhaustion of ice skating and having two earth-breaking orgasms wrung out of you when Johnny remarks, “You looked beautiful skating,” and that sounds like an unfinished thought.

“But?” you croak out.

He chuckles and answers, “But nothing beats how ye look full of my cum,” and drags his thumb up your slit, smearing your mixed juices over the lips of your cunt— making you whimper at your oversensitivity.

Cheeky scot.

A/N: remind yourself to scold Johnny for making your leggings wearable only in the bedroom.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

Note

Ok hear me out… in regards to alt reader vs housewife reader…

¿Por qué no los dos?

Alt reader who is ALSO a cute little housewife? Lil cutie patootie in an apron and a pretty little dress, making a big hearty dinner for the big boy, giving him big fat kisses and scolding him for getting his boots on her clean floor…

And her BRIGHT colored hair is PERFECTLY insane, her black lipstick is FLAWLESS, piercings PRISTINE and SHINY, tattoos MOISTURIZED etc.

Bonus points if we can combine them! Combat boots and fishnets under her baby blue dress, tattoos on full display, her little apron is printed with bats and spiders, her piercings maybe match her wedding ring- I can HEAR König crying out for mercy

(Anyways hi I’m Shay nice to meet you how are you today this is my first ask I’m sending you I adore you🥴👀🦭)

Oh no! Good boy, normal family traditional boy Konig is getting his punk awakening in the deep of his mid-age crisis. He for real thought you were two different people at first - with your piercings and your raw taste in music, with all the tattoos and eyeliner and the amount of makeup on your eyes that makes him wonder if you do facepaint camouflage too...and then your adorable voice and your soft demeanor - you just act so innocent, so adorable. You probably meet when you were working in the coffee shop near KorTac HQ, your pleasant actions make him rethink a good chuck of his life. This man was dead set on either dying alone or meeting some good, vanilla girl who would eventually leave him because of his fucked up personality - but god, aren't you fucked up too. He just loves to spoil you with everything he can get you - which is a lot, considering how expensive some of the alternative fashion brands are, and how much good, quality eyeliner you spend every day. This guy is already ordering you custom gothic rings and collectors edition of CD for your favorite music band - and even though his tastes are outdated and as ancient, as he is, he would try to listen to everything you like. When you ask to but you more cute stuff, he is in heaven. He can go back home to a girl that can rock crazy makeup AND cute flowy dress?? And she likes him, and she is good at listening, and she allows him to spoil her like a princess?? Did he actually die on the missions, and this is his perfect afterlife??

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig

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fandomobbsessedb · 1 year

Text

Yandere!Wally Darling x Female Reader.

Summary: Reader goes for a stroll in the woods on the edge of The Neighborhood when it starts to feel like somethings wrong, when something tells them they’ve done all this before

AN- This is my first shot at a “Welcome Home” one-shot and I really hope that it turns out decent lol

Key: P/F= Preferred Flowers

TW: Manipulative behavior!!. Very descriptive setting/ other worldly feelings/ out of body feeling.

⚪️🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢⚫️

Breathing in the bittersweet and earthy tones of the hearty oak trees around you, your feet continue their walk on the colorfully (soft?) road. In your right arm a basket from Julie, you had been at her house to help her with a new garden set up and in return she gifted you a bouquet of (p/f)!

In your left hand you where periodically smelling the crazy rose you found growing alone a few feet away from all the other single colored roses, the outside petals where a beautiful royal blue and the inside was a dark hellish black. For some odd reason you saw it and just couldn’t stop thinking of the Darling, your darling, Wally Darling. You and Wally have been a thing for as long as you could remember. You’ve always lived in Home with him, you two are rarely apart, always attached at the hip.

You tried racking your brain as to how this crazy flower reminded you of him, maybe because it was so different, and to you Wally felt different. It would make sense you see him differently than the rest, he’s your love.

An odd feeling drew you from your thoughts, the pressure of a hard ground beneath your feet, and not the comfortable cradling one it was just in. Looking around you came to your senses and realized you where into the forest now, the colorful road long gone, you couldn’t even tell how far from it you where. Inspecting your surroundings it not only felt like you where looking around, but like something was watching you back, part of you wanted to believe it was watching you to keep you safe, but you knew it wasn’t real…..

You always asked Wally to go on pic-nic’s in the forest but he would steer you far far from the tall woods.

Thinking you could find your way back on your own you turned around and tried to go back the way you came. As you went on it felt like not only the ground was hard, but the sticks on the trees seemed harder than the soft squishy ones you would throw to Barnaby. Instead of the comfy rounded ends that would bump into you to make you aware of their presence, these sticks felt harsh and pokey, almost like they where grabbing at you with hands that belonged to the bodies the eyes inhabited and were pulling at your pretty mini rainbow dress that complimented your Wally.

Continuing your trek into the woods you started to realize little by little the odd changes. The air felt thick and muggy… you thought your eyes where tricking you, on the very edges of the trees and the bushes there was a darkness barley peeking it’s head out of hiding, just around your pupils… the sounds of the birds and bugs started to dull out into a sharp pitched sound, like when your dancing with Wally late into the night and your radio channel ends with a sharp sound that Wally quickly turns off, only exposing you for a spilt moment…

The basket in your arms feeling heavier then before, looking down to see the reason…. Your whole bouquet was wilted, all your pretty flowers you where going to show Wally… they where all dead, looking to the rose in your other hand the world around you started to spin, now instead of seeing it as your love, it made you feel sick, staring at the black center it consumed your eye sight, feeling like a black hole you where falling into.

You dropped the rose unable to move any other part of your body, the sharp brain warping sound filing your head, now not being able to feel anything, you slowly painfully lift your head to look around, there no more sounds, no more colors, no more dimension-

The trees are black lines filled in with a dark color that’s pulling you towards their gravity only for another to shove you in the opposite direction, the ground trips you even more off your trail as it looks like grey sand, slipping all over the floor. It doesn’t help when your already trying to get your way back. Everything started to move, the trees swayed almost animated… the bushes jumping up and down like an old cartoon, and then you, not even able to find a grip, because everything shocks you like static. A distorted voice coming from the trees breaks you out of your spin-

“Oh Mrs.Darling… My darling… haven’t we been through this already…. You can’t leave….. didn’t you learn that the first 3 times you tried this…..?”

Flashes of a bright white light blinding your vision and threw you in all sorts of directions, shapes and colors started to make pictures in your head.

A woman brushing a small girls hair into their favorite style

A bigger teenage boy throwing the smaller infant into the air and watching them giggle with joy…

A father and mother hugging the now ten year old child as a congratulations for making it to the next grade…

The older teenager who was once the child spending the day with their friends doing the things they all love…

The young adult once teenager hugging their parents in their soon to be filled apartment….

The grown woman sitting down after a long tiring day at their job, turning on the tv to watch a comforting show, the same, friendly, neighborly, bright colored show that kept them captive for hours.

a SNAP broke you from the visions and the warmth and comfort of your felt covered world came rushing back to you as you where almost blinded when the color seeped back into everything. Almost like time had been rewound to before you got lost from the road.

The stick that had just gave out beneath your foot being the only thing to assure you that what you had just been through was real. You took a step backward trying to catch your breath, feeling like something was gripping your lungs, the hands from the sticks grown into monstrously large and round hands squeezing every big of oxygen from squishy lungs, wringing them out like a water filled cloth. The ground giving out beneath you and throwing you back, almost like a million arms pushing you back towards your captivity.

Tumbling down the hill it’s impossible for you to hurt yourself, he made sure of that. Just the shock of everything that recently happened, you opened your mouth to scream but you weren’t even sure if anything came out…

You hit the bottom of the hill feeling your basket crush under your heavy body, the squished flowers ruining your dress, as you just lay there breathing, catching your breath, you hear light footsteps coming up to you. Pushing yourself up with all of your leftover strength your able to sit up, using your hips to cradle the rest of your upper anatomy you just look around.

W̵̫̼̲͉̼̭͓̽̃̀͒̈̇͗̌͂̀͠h̴̨̠̳̰̬̫̯̺̦̫͇̙͇̘͙̤̞̃̀̀̍͒͗̈́̋̕͝a̶̧̼͖͂͋͐̄͐̔̓̆͊̀̑͛̊̚t̵̢̠͙͈̣͙̠͈̏̈́͒̉ͅ ̴̟̘̯̘̠̝͇͓̟̣̤̋̅͒̂̓̾̊̅̇͊̕͜͜͠a̶̪̹̥̮̲͖͇̔̏̈͘ṛ̸̨̀͒́̅͑e̵̬̥̙͍̩̜̺͈͍̋́̒͋̽ ̷̡̛̯͎̖̼̔̋̔͆̎͗̔̎̓̓y̸̩͊̽̄̎̏͗̓́̀̊͘ǫ̷͎̟̟̤̳̃͗̾̚ű̷̧̨̺̤̙̜̠̰̺͊͋́͑̂̒̈́̃̍͌͜͝ͅ ̷̡̳͑̀͆͛̇̽̑͂͛͝ď̸̨̟̖̤͕̜͖͎̜͔͖̙̣̭͉̝͛͛͗ŏ̴̘͊̍̌̎̏̑̑͊͋͠į̸̨̱͙͈̳̻̖͚̱͇̘̹̼̓̾̓̎̑̊̾̌͌̌̆͊̕͠͝͝ͅn̷̡̢̫͈̲͈̬̹͙͈̭̗̠̬̘̺̣̽̆g̸̡̢̹͇̻̳̦̪̤̥̔̾̒̋͑ ̸̱̟̤̝͍̒͛̒̄̆͂̀̾̂h̴̙͉͇̭͍͉͙̰͗̋̀̓̆̍̒̊ë̵͇̦͈̙̥̲̥̝̖̩̯̲̥́̽̓̆̎͜ř̷̥̫̪̣͈͉͜ȩ̴̧̪̘̠̤̖̝̂͆̒̀̄̑͋̓̂͝

N̵̛̠̲̬͍̺̿̿͌͋͋̍̽̈́̽̓̌̑̐̃͂̒̓͛͊͒̽̃̂̌̂͌͊̏́̎̾̓̋̅͌͑̇͊͠͠͝͠ỡ̴̛̞̙̱͎͚̊̎̿̃̋̽̆͐͂̈́̈́̇͋͑̍͗̈́͑̍̀̒̋̈́́̀͐̀͂̋̆̓̉̈͒͘͘͝͠͝͠t̷͖͎̩͙̲̥̩̟̞͚͒̈̈́͆͗͌̏̉ ̵̯͍͓̺͎̻̙̗͙̟̞̜̝̣̯̳̭̻̩͎̤̝̯̹͇̺̭̝̞̳̯̳̹̦̩̗̠̟̫̏͌̀͛̒͛̓͗̈́̒͌̈́̂́̐͊̊̍̈́̂͌̆͗̒̈́́̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅf̸̢̢̢̧̢̧̛̪̺̝͕̺̝̞̺͈̫̩̣͚͎̞̘͙̦̙͎̜͓̞̘̺̩̼̝̬̫̯̼̖͈̾͒̐̑̋̍̉͌͐͆̊̿̏̐̕͝͝͝ͅơ̸̡̧̢̡̧̯͎̳̯͎͇̠̬͙̬̜̟͍̩͇̝͇̯̠̖͈̟̗͉͙̝̝̝̠̮̟̯͚͓̩̼̈͛͊̋̏͆́͂͛͜ͅͅŗ̸̛̛͉̫̹̮͍͕̖̗͍̭̠͈͔̭͖̩̝͚̻͖̳̲̩͔͕̜̼̦̪̻̳̦͛́̓͋̾̋͊̏̀̓̍̃̅̾͊̅̐̐͛̄̊͌̋̐̏̈́̉̀͐̅̃̂͌́̓͛̈̓͘̚̚͝ͅͅ ̸̟̳̔̇͊́y̴̢̡̢̧̛͚̫̣͉̻͚̗̹̬͈̝̭͙̤͕͓̱͕̯̦̻͇͖̠̹̬͖̰̻̰̼͍͖͎͚͚̭̆̐̌̄̊́́̃̋̾̑̂̑͑̏̌̋̑̄̂̉̕͘̕̕͘͠͝ͅǫ̸̨̨̨͖̣͉̬̠̩̬̞̤͈̺͌̀͒̆̊̂̄̚͝ữ̶̧̛̭̭̞̤̺͉͈̗̼̥̖̦̝̏̓͌̐̿͗̈́̄͊̔̀̊̀͋̐́͌̌̋̈̾̐̏̀̈́̐͌̽̕͘̚͝͠͠͝

A̸̢̡̢̧̧̨̢̡̧̧̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͚̗̗̺̹̭̩̼̦̼̩̹̺̞̣̜͖͇̱̩̖̳̮̺̱̱̗̖̳̰͓̣̗̜͓̘͉̯̯̲̹͇̬̼̯̘̭̬̳͓̩͖͔̞͈̗̼͎̠̲̜͉̭̞͎̝̱̱̘̝͎͔̰̣͎̥͕͓̙̪̻̘͖͈̟̫̲̯̭̝̻̳͖̗̣̠̭̤̭̥̯̞̫̬̥̞̮̠̟̤̦̫͔̠̳̪͇̺̖̱͉̼͎̮͓͈͈̫͉͔̳͎̻̪̖̫̤̝̲̥͗͑̒̃̀̏̏̃́̇̐̈̈̾̄̋͋̔̒͊̋̈́̅͗̈̇́̀͒͐̂̂̅̇͒̅̆͐̂̂̇̐̐͒̂̓̓̋̈́͌̄͐͊̓͊̌̀̀̿̀̾̄́̎̈͆͆̐̒̾̀̍̉́̉̂́̀͒̇̉̏̉̌͑͂̈̿͂̓͗́̀͛̒͒̌͋̐̈́̇̔̌̀͗̆̀̇̔̅́̿̅̆̄̈́̂̒͛͌̆́̄͛̕͘͘̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅg̸̡̢̧̨̧̢̢̡̡̢̡̧̡̢̢̡̡̛̗̭̣̣̯̫͍̪̗̞̩͇͚͈̖̪͈̼̺̪̖͚͍̹͖̲̺̠̜̗̻̜̣̥̳̳͙͇̯͇͔̩͓̘̪̰̙̪̩̖̭̳͙͚͓͚͚̞͍̗͔̪̖̺̭͕̻̣͉͚̜̲̥͎̦͙̹̞̞̝̠̹̪͕̻̣͕͉̘͈̠̫̻̘̰̹͈͕̦̮̬̤͓̣͇̟͕͕̟͚̖̯̱̹̗̼̞̭̙͇̃͊͊͋̀͒̀͒̑̽͑̎̀͒́̀̈͌͐̿̀̆͗̉̆̃̋͂̃̈́͋̒̊̄̌̆̉̀́̿̂̅̄́̈͊̉͋̉̍̾͌͊́͂͋̾̒̓̆̈́̂̆̚͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅḫ̸̛̙̜̹̰̰̬̫̤̦̯̬̹̟͔͔̘̪̪͎͔͔̙̞̼͇̹̯̈́̽͒́̏͊̒̈͆̇͛̐͊́̏̋̽͆͐̈͌͆̈́̌͘̕̚͜͝͝h̸̢̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̥̣̭͉̻̙̰͓̘̰̙̺̞̺͎̮̖̭̩͙̖͕͓̮̜̘̻̳̊͒͋̉̈́́̋̄̔͊̓̂̒͂̀̽͒͗̐̅͆͑̀̔̍͊̋͒̉̅̏̀̒̍͂̿̎͐̌̒̈́͒͆̓̾͐̇̐̔̔̊̇̇̂̋̅͋̉̊̓̑̅̓̑͆̎̋̋̎́̐̀̄̃̿̽̀̓̇̂͐̽̈́̓̃̿͗̆̄͆͐̈́͐̀̿̈͐͂̀̿̍͌̓̈́̀̊͂̈̍̆̑̓͋͒̋̊̇̕͘̚̕̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝h̵̢̡̘̜̺̹̮͓̟̖̟̮̮̳̯̩̯͉̝̥̜̭̤́͌̿̈́̈̐̈̅̀͂̇͒͛͋̓͐͘͝h̴̡̧̨̢̧̨̧̨̧̨̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̝̟̹̟̪̲̺̰̞͖͖͖̤͇̲̘̪̭̘̩̙̭̺̟̜̮̦̣͚̜͙̗̣͎̜͓͖̝̥̱̟̝̫̝̤̺̦̮̘͇̰̘̘͙̟̙̘̭͕̲̱̮̫͇̖̦̩͖̻̰͉̲̝̭͚̹̳͍͓͕͕̜͚̼̜̟̫̟̞̳̼̘͕̝̤̭͓͈̫̭̩̪̺̜̠̥͉̪̘̝̼̟̥͖̞̗̼̗̟̠͔̝̰̫̪͓̞͇̘̹̰̮̼͍̺͕͔̦̹̪͇̬̭̟̜̫̥̼͆͊̽͊͛̒̄̐̽͂̾͆̄̈́̽̌̆̅̍͂͊̿̓̂̈́́̈̆͑͊̀̈̃̃̊͛͌͐͒̂̿͂̈́̄̓̊͊̿͆̏͊̀͛̊͒̽͛̓͛́̔̊͛̄̑͗̂͆͒͋͌̎͆͌͗̈́̽͑̃͋̈́̓͂̉̽͂̆̓́͂̄͂̋̀̎̎̒̂̂̓͒̓͑̄̋̈͒͆̓̂̅̎̑̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ��̗͇̯̭͜ḩ̵̢̨̡̧̨̢̧̧̡̛̼͍̻̥̟͖̘̜͙͍̬̯̫͈̮͕͚̳͈̜̞̝̮̙̯̣̤̻̣̟͖͙͖͕͍̖̜̼̪̟̱͚̳̜̠͉̭̘̭̗͇̤̩̪͕͇͉̗̞̟̱̥̖̩̻͎̱̼̱̹͈͉̲̤͙̜͎̝̝͇͔̝̞̫̹̤̯̮̞̘̖̘̦̳͖̖͉̣̠̼̙̥͑́͐̅͐̔̑̂̌̈́́̓͂́̑̿̈́͊̈́͆͌̑̉͛͆̈́̀̋̅̿̄̓̈́͛͗͋̉̏͛̀̒̈́̄͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͝H̶̡̡̨̡̡̢̧̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̜͙̟͕͎̦̜̙̲̹̜̳̩͖̗͔̝̰̺̭͍̥͇̬̘̻̦̲̤͍̫͙̮̼͈̲͈͈͎̘̮̮̗͕͍̥̮̥̥̠̱̹̺̟̼̮̣̤̭̠͓͎̖̦͓̯͉̥͕̱͚͉̥̼̭̭̗͍̯̰̲̞̺̲̰̠̖̥͕̙̙̥͚̤̤̭͇̩̠̖͓̤̼̋͆̀̆̀͋̾͐̆͒̀̑̊͂̒̔̈̊͑̌̍͂̐̇͊͋̿̆̀̅̑̓̀̔͐̈́͛̋̾̽̔̈́́̓̄͐̍̄̔̍̉̓͐̎̓͐́̀̉̂̈́́͐̃̈̌̏̽̑͆͌̾̽̇͒́͌̔́̃̆̔̾̀͛̊́̊̐̌̾̂̔̀̄̿͌̈̈́̄̀̈́̈́̃̊̈́̀̔̀̐͒͒̅̓͌̽̀̂̕͘͘͘͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅh̸̡̨̧̡̡̧̧̢̢̡̧̡̨̨̢̧̢̡̡̧̨̢̧̛̛̛̩̣̘̯̠̭͉̟̟̼͕̺̰̫͉̤͖̤̫̘͙̮͖͕̻̯͈͕͕̱̠̖͚͎͇̼͉͈̰͚̝̝̼̜̪̰̲͈̬̘̦͎̰̣̮͓̺̗͈͈̦̰̝̭̻̺͔͖̹̩̱̲͕̻͇̝̭̣̯̰͖̥̘͎̝̪͉̣̣̦̤̠̤̥͈̩͈̫̖̝̙̗̜̞͓͎̱̦̲̝̖͇̯̥̹͔͕͚̖̩̹̫̱̬̱͎̦͔̘̗̗̤̞͙̠̼̥͚͉̗͙̪̬͚̗̖͖̺̥̞̯̪̦̰̻͚͎̤̦͇̖̞͇̮̟͕̮̖͙̥̞͔̜̬̻̟̣͚̘͈͒͊̂̊̂̑̍͆̇͛͐̀̾̍̆̾̄̉̓̀̃̆̿̈̔̽͛̈̀͊͑͛̀̓̄̿̓̿̈́͋͋̄̃͗͒́̒̈́͐̐̓̈́͛͌͆́̾̆̐͒̆͑͊̎̑̀̈́̃̂̀̈́̔̅̉͗͂̍̈̄̎̀͐́́̀̿̏͗̄͋̍͑̋̍̀̓̽̈̕̕̕̚̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅh̵̡̨̨̧̨̨̨̡̡̧̡̡̨̢̡̢̢̛̛̛̛̛̫͔̰̮̙̗̜͇͎̠̦̩͕̼̼͍͎͉̲̭͖̝̥̗̻͕͎̥̲̱̥̫̼̯̰̲̟̰̺̞̜͍͙̟̳͚͙͓̥̜̻̰͔̘̖̟̩̯̙͔̲̺̬̘͔̹̣̯̹͍̱̟̺͓̬̣̣̗̹͙͉͉͍̜̗̱͖͍̠̻̞̠̻̖̫͖͇͓͇̦͇̱̻̼͉̯͕͔̲͖̙͍̬͎̞̜̻̮̭̱͎̦̻͙͚̪͙̮̘̼̗̳͕̞̰̗̙̖̗̰̺̣̹̥͎͕͉̘̝̗̩̼͓̭̮͔͕̺̼̬̬̙̼̺̻̟̥̝̼̳͈͎̯͖̥̿̈́̊̆͛͂̀͆̉̎̈́̀̊̈́͌̏͒̑̎͛̔̄́̎̅͊̍́̽̎̌̽̉̎̉̀̊̃́͂͐̀̀̒͒̏̑̀̓̐̆̏̏̒̾̄̐̈͛̊͑̎̇͑́͋̊̎̎̈́̅̒̏͊̋͆̉̄̀̔̿̄͒̔̑̓͂̆̒̓̒̌̊̀̌̎̍̓̔̉̑̐́̎̈́͐̈́͆̆́̓͋̑́́͂̉̆̊̃̔̓̈́̄̽͌̈́̐̉́̀̋́͗͗̿̂̎͂͌̀̌̓̕̕͘͘͘̚͘͘̕͘̕̕̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅḩ̸̛̛̛̛̗͇̮̏̍͗̓̊͋̋̄͆͋̃̈́͐̑̿̄̒̈̀̈́͑̎̀̋̀̂͊̆͌̏̏̂́̍͋̓̅̇̒͐̎͊̈̈́̉͂͆̓͆͑̆̈́̃̍̑̎̏̊̄̃̏͌̌̿̎̋̍̈́̈́͐̓̌̀͆͒̆̍̇͊͛͛́̂͗̎̀̽͗͌͑̾̏̌̀̄̒̀̅͌̂̎̋̔͑̇̒̆͊̎̀̈́͌́͐̓̏̌͋̾͆̽̀̊̾͂̈́̈́̌̈̓͒͊̒͗̆̌̉͆̈́̂͛̔̑̂̌̈́́̿͂̈́͋̍́̓͑́̎̐͊̒̀̿̓̈͌͊̑̄͑̊͗́̆͂̔͂͐̎͒̓̓̀͑̚̕̕͘̚̕̕̚̕̚̚͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ḫ̸̨̨̧̢̛̛̛̦̙̖̰̼̜̻̟̬̰̬͖͔͇͓̤̝̫̣͔̺͖͎̬̣̩̺̟̬͈͎̫̠͎̯͉̖̬̥͓̪̟͍͚̞̲͎̯̝̦̺͕̼̯͍͓̹͕̜̗̽̐͊̍̾̔́̿͑̐̔͋̑̓͊̈́̂̒͋̊̓́̔͂̎͂́̒́̃̂̈́̉̈́̌̊̈́̆̓̂̍͑́͋́̈̃͐̉̉͒͛̅́̏̀͐́̿͋͗͐͊̂͆̀̉̽̃̏̊̒̇̀̐͐̂̀͐̈́͗̆͑̈́̀̈́͋́͆̀̄́̇͑̐͊̀̍̈́̆͑̂̒͆̔̀̆̏̃̌̍̍̎̓̓̅̋̆̈́͊̈́͗̉͋̀̆̎́͋̓̃̂̒͐͋̀͂̀̕̚͘̕̚̕̕̚͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅḩ̵̢̨̛͚̟͖̼̳̭̝̟̼̱̲̠̮̯̩̦͚̹̯̘̘̟͙͇̘͙̞̥̹̺͍̇̍̔̽̐̆̽͒̇̍̒̈̽̃̅̾̿̋̅̌̐̃̐͋͘̚̕̚ͅͅḥ̷̡̨̨̧̡̨̨̡̡̧̧̢̡̧̢̡̧̡̛̛̠͚͎͙͙̬̩͍̰̲̭͉̘̗̮̞̠͕̮͔͙̭̺̪̜̞̟̜͇͙͖̫̯̳͖̦͍̳͉̩̰̱̺̪̟̜̭̰̠͇̼͎̹͔̫̤͙̥̘̱̪̟͓͚͕̪̣̣̠̹͇͓̤̟̦̠̯̟͉͉̳͕̫̙̘͎͍͙̞̠̙̙̦̱̜͍̯͈̤͎͚̮̥͖̯̥̯̲̯̦̟͇͚̤̹̣̤̱͎̀̂̀̔̌̂́͌͊̃̽͒̾̏̉͛̈́̏̄͊̾̈́̈́͗̎̐̿̂̒̀̾̃̓́͑͆̀̐̋̈́̈́̉̃̑̾̎̃͌̂͗̈́͒́̓̾̽͛̇̃̈̿͋̇̑̒̔͂͛̑̌͋͐̆̎̀̓͒͘̚͘̕̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠

“Oh my- DARLING!! Oh, are you alright?” Wally scrambled over to you with concern.

You’re standing in front of a flower field, turning around to face him he gasped and paused where he was standing. “Oh love, what happened?” Words escaped your mouth before you could form them, you couldn’t speak- your dress was torn up, your pretty little flower basket crushed, your hair undone from the pretty braids Wally had done that morning.

“I….. I Uhm…… I don-“

What had happened….. did you pass out? Yeah… yeah that must be it, how else could you explain your state.

“I was helping Julie and I must’ve passed out on my way back to Home” placing your hand on your head wiping off……….. sand? You shook out your dress as best you could and as the dress seemed to get rid of the sand it was gone the minute your eyes met it.

“Oh Darling you where never at Julie’s house.” Wally said with that calming smile.

“I wasn’t?” Looking down to your dress you saw that it was torn up and soggy but no remnants of your ruined flowers.

“There was a huge rainstorm, you came out to collect your gardening tools so they wouldn’t get ruined, that was 15 minutes ago I’ve been frantic.” He stated with a downward worried gaze going to embrace you.

Placing your head to his chest feeling the soft comforting warmth you always have, feeling so tired from……….. the storm, your ready to give out.

“Oh Darling your dress is all ruined, and your face is all muddy, oh my poor love, let’s go inside and get you cleaned up so we can head to bed, don’t worry my darling I’ve got you………. I won’t let you go………”

A̵̤͍̽̓̓̅͗̐́͂̇̈́͆̕͘͝͝l̵̡͖͎̤̭̹̺̩̭̣̘̮͎̂̎̔͐̾͆̆̍̀̾̕l̵̳̪̟̭̮͇̭͓͉̬̟̒̆̅̆̿͒̓̍̈́ ̴̺̦̺̻̬̺̜̄ͅẙ̷̢͎̩̟̱̬̤̘̘̫͍͆̍õ̶̡ű̸̧͖̤͙̖͕̥̩̔̑͂̓̆͐̆̿̕̕̚ ̸̧̨͇̼͙͍̦̫͎͔̺̭͂͋͊̿̃̃͋͌̂̓c̷̛̱͓̲̥͍̦̫̆̊̈́̾́̊͒͗à̷̟̦͌͂͌̏̿͋͋̈̇n̶̬͆ ̵̰̭̻̪̰̔̀̊̀̃̐̀͌͐ḫ̵̡̰̯̜̥̲̝͖̙͗̑͆͒̔̾͌͐͋̀̎͒͘̕͝ę̸̧̝̠̞̳̫̙̜͉̲͓̥̹̩̻̋́̄͋̍̒̿̾̊̍͋̓̈́̕ą̷͔̱̖̱͈̫͖͋̅͂̓̃̽̋̒̅͝͝r̷̨͈͙͎̗̜̤͚̤͕̥͕̽̅͊̓̈́̎͑͜͠ ̵̼͉͕̲͙̟̲̝̞̲̍͆̒̀͑͌̈̉̈́̍̽̊͝ỉ̸̡̻̟̰̬̫͍̦̗̙͙̙̙̼̏̐͜ş̵̡̳̰̮̹͍̰̱̯͇̻͙͓̺͆́̽̉͂͗̌́̀̏̿̚̚̕͠ͅͅ ̸̥̀̍̓͂̍̽́̀͂̓͑̌̀͌̚ş̶̡̧̪̟͚͕̣͓̻͛̇̇̇̿̾̑͛̏́͗͛͂͗͋̓̅͜ͅt̷̛͚̮̙͚̾̊͊̎̇̏͑̕a̸̧̞͚͎͉̎̉̈́͌̌̈͘t̵̨͇͙͖̬͈̝̯̹̾ḯ̶͈̮̞͖̥̘̳̟͎̗̹̱͚͜ç̷̛̬̬̯͔͎̓̈́̍

n̶̹̝̰͈̪̪̟̻̓̽̂̿̽̑̋o̷̬̮̩̣̭̫͂̔͌̀̏̀̌̔̔̅̚ţ̸̙͇̤̻͉̖̖̜͇̫̩͉͎̮͒͑̑̄̃̾̓̅̆̀͘ͅh̸͓̰͕̙̖͚̩̦͐̅̽̄͗͑͂i̶̛̦̺̼̖̠͕̦͍̲͑͊̋̄̂̅͗͐͊̀̎͑̿͠ǹ̵̨̢̖͉̗̗͎̜̥̮͈̝̲͛̊̑̋̌̕͜͜g̴̲͚͉̱͍͍̰͓͖̝̩̠̩̔̅͋̌̐̒̂͌̏̀̔̈́̅͆̑ ̶͖̱̱̠̔̑̀̉̏̌̓̄͆̎͑̈̃͜i̵̖̬̻̦̤̗͎̙̅͜s̴̠͙̥͕̯̬͙̺̦̻̤̓̓̆͑̀̂̕̕̕͜͝ ̷̧̢͉͇̲̠̲̞͈͍̣͙͎͌͊̌͂̎̓̑͊̈́̈́͒̚̚m̴̢͕͈̿͗̌̈́̾̇͛͑̐͛̽́̕͝͠ö̵̧̧̡͇́v̸̨̞̱͖̪̳͓̭̮̥̲͎͓̀̉̽͘į̴̡̧̬̯͍͕̩̟̳͉̱̪̭̀̀́̌͂̐̃̒̌͜͝ṇ̵͍͖̼̳̪̏̽̋̾̀̍̈g̶̰̣͂͂́̍͊̂͆̎̏͠ͅ ̶̩̥͚̖̓̀̍̑͐̍͆̂͊̋̏̈́͊͝

Opening your eyes your now at your vanity in your room, Wally’s brushing out your hair. Your wearing your matching blue pajama set.

“There we go my beauty, all cleaned up” he placed his hands on your arms and laid his head atop yours.

“Look at my pretty darling, my beautiful darling.” He sighed out kissing the top of your head then turning you around so that he may hold you just as he did in your garden.

Letting him go you spin around happily and throw yourself onto his side of the bed, giggling you see Home wave the cupboard doors around and shiver the room a bit. Wally chuckles a bit and lies down with you, all three of you sighing out in content, Home simply expanding the room a bit almost in a relaxed state.

“Goodnight Wally”

“Goodnight my darling” as you lay together you gaze into his eyes, thinking about how beautiful the color of his eyes would be as a flower…

#welcome home puppet show #welcome home #wally darling #welcome home x reader #x reader #female reader #home welcome home #wally darling x reader #flowers

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