#losing a fur baby is so hard

[sanchoyo]

my dog turned 14 the other day!!! 14 years old in human years... I've had him since he was a pubby and hes 14... woaw....🥺

#i thought abt it too hard and im choked up now KJHSDKF MY SPECIAL LITTLE OLDMAN GUY.....MY BABY OLD. BENJBUTTON DOG. precious fuzzy man #he desperately needs a haircut i gotta call the vet tomorrow aaaugh ive been procrastinating abt it but hes SOO shaggy #i hate getting him cut in the winter bc i feel BAD if hes nakey bc its COLD outside. but i dont want him to be so shaggy he gets matted... #and his fur is curly fluffy so i dont wanna hurt him by trying to comb/brush it out yk? #aside from like using my fingers very gently #id say hes doing great for his age tho tbh #hes got mild cataracts and i think hes deaf but hes got 6 teeth which according to my vet is IMPRESSIVE for his age #and like hes healthy otherwise :") he luvs getting the good wet food now bc of the teeth situation #idk i know hes old and it makes me sad to think abt too much but hes doing ok according to the vet who i trust more than my own judgement #there rly isnt anything to be done abt him losing his hearing BUT hes so smart he picks up on hand signals so #he knows what gesture means walkies or food time :) or 'yes u can hop up on the couch with me' hand pat #my cat has started picking up on the hand signals too which is funny #guy whos nonverbal sometimes accidentally teached both their pets animal sign language <- #sanchoyorambles #anyway i wanna ask the vet to do another general checkup even tho he just had one a few months ago bc i am Paranoid JKDFHKJ #top 10 reasons i need to get a job asap . i am trying not to stress abt it but #aaaugh its been difficult and bad job hunting and the idea of calling ppl too late has paraylsed me with fear #i just gotta do it ;__; gun to my own head hollering atmyself to put the phone to my ear and hit call #holding myself hostage at this point bc being gentle is NOT fuckin working SDHFHSKJ #this time of year is always bad brain time tho i need to power thru the anxiety and various Episodes and Attacks #i Bleive in myself....

[moondirti]

pregnant diner waitress reader just has a dirtbag babydaddy, calling her and screaming the whole over the car and her being late.

honestly i hadn’t planned to have her baby daddy in the picture at all but the angst potential here… too tempting to pass up

PART 1 • PART 2

tags: simon x reader x johnny. darkfic. dirtbags. verbal abuse (not by ghost or soap). pregnant fem!reader who still hasn’t realised she’s being actively abducted.

It takes a bit to convince you to let them drive you home.

Your resistance is met with a paradoxical reaction by both men. On the one hand, there’s a warm comfort at the knowledge that you aren’t so easy to take advantage of. Even in your distraught state, you push back against every solution they propose. It is quite a detour, I’d hate to inconvenience you or I’m sure I can get a friend to come out instead. You’re wary, though your exhaustion sways you to assume the best of them, which means that you aren’t quite at the point of flat out refusal.

Otherwise, they – Simon, in particular – simmer in frustration. Red wine in a saucepan, reduced to a stronger version of itself over flame. Bitter. Strong. More insistent: cannae rest easy tonicht knowing we left an expecting hen tae fend fur herself. They poke at the knot until they find a loosening, tugging, tugging, then abandoning it once a more promising end appears.

Eventually, their combined efforts (though most of the credit can be attributed to the sincere, puppy dog look Johnny sports at all times. Hard to resist, even for Simon) dismantle your willpower. You duck your head in a modest thank you and shuffle behind them, seating yourself firmly behind the drivers seat even though you’re offered shotgun, hugging your bag over your belly.

“Do you need me to type in the address on google maps or something?” You say after they pull out of the parking lot.

“Y’were on about Adderford.” Simon meets your wide eyes in the rearview.

“Yeah.”

“Reckon I know the road.”

Simon does know the way, and so does Johnny. Adderford, off of exit A36. Near a polluted lake that was the victim of an attempt to turn the town into an industrial hub. Nothing to show for that, of course – all it has to offer now is a poor quality of life for all those who weren’t fortunate enough to get out.

Yeah. They know the way, and their confidence must set a precedent for the trip. Your anxious fidgeting stops after 10 minutes of driving, and you’re smiling at the nonsensical story coming from the passengers seat a mere 5 minutes later. In the meanwhile, your rationalisation is visible. Simon watches your gaze flicker back and forth between them, then around the car that must feel luxurious next to yours. If they wanted to do something bad to you, then they would’ve already done so. Besides, what kind of delinquents drive a wrangler?

30 minutes in, you’re fast asleep.

They really couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.

They come up on exit A36 and stick to the middle lane, passing the little sign that points to Adderford being a couple miles out. Past the point of no return, beelining towards the secluded house they’ve made your new home, and you can be none the wiser. Johnny can’t believe their luck, babbling in a hushed voice about how nice it’ll when you to wake up in their bed.

The fantasy loses its grip when your phone rings, blaring from deep within your bag. Panic ripples across your face, jolting you from your sleep as you scramble for the device. The series of events unfolds in far too familiar a way for one of them. Simon – a buried torment wringing around his guts as he listens in.

“H-Hello? Shit. What–” You’re breathless, stuttering. Back to that scared little thing they found by her car, crying. “Please- please calm down.”

And though you try to keep your voice low, they leech on to every word you say. Someone on the other line yells, indistinct insults punching through the mic and landing. You wilt, tucking your lip underneath two teeth, waiting the anger out.

(Tommy donned the same expression those nights when things got bad. Simon remembers hugging him against his chest so he wouldn’t have to face the misery his brother’s countenance wrought.)

“You shouldn’t- I’m sorry, but I thought I c-changed the locks. You’re not allowed to be in… not in my apartment.” More yelling. Soap twists a fist, concoting a hundred different ways he can track whoever it is down. Make them pay for their abuse with their own tongue down their throat. “It’s none of your business- you left…”

“Easy.” Simon whispers to his partner.

“Si.”

“I know, boy.” Perhaps all too well. It gets harder to keep a firm steer over the wheel.

“Don’t accuse me of– my fucking car broke down! You shouldn’t even– fuck! Hello? Hello?” A low scream tears from your throat, prelude to the aggressive shoving of your phone down into back your bag. Trembling fingers press down over your eyes, rubbing until your tears soak into your skin. Ridding of the evidence to your dismay. You suck in large gulps of air, holding them in your chest until it aches, then gasp out equally hefty exhales.

No one speaks for a while. Then–

“I don’t think I should go home right now.”

Too broken for them to feel anything but overwhelming pity. Johnny clicks his tongue, looking over his shoulder so you can latch on to the sincerity that seems to calms you so.

“O’course. Whatever ye need, lass.”

Your frown softens “There’s a motel–”

“Next one’s farther ou’ than our place is. Can’t take you there and back m’fraid.” Simon interjects. Like a record scratch, or sandpaper on an already raw moment. It must make him an awful man to use your earlier propriety against you, but conviction has superseded his desire to act decently.

Sure enough, you visibly blanch, shaking your head and stumbling over your words.

“No! No, of course not. Of course- that was so silly of me to ask. You can, I mean… you can drop me off anywhere, really. I’ll sort t-things out for myself.”

“Not what I meant, pet.”

You don’t catch on. He doesn’t repeat.

Johnny bridges the gap.

“We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

next part

#why do i keep writing these while sleep deprived #i’ll edit tomorrow cba rn ngl #༄dee answers #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap #x reader #x female reader #simon riley #John mactavish #ghost #soap #cod #call of duty

[writer-komaru]

Wild One’s Rodeo 𓃗

Warning✧ [explicit] Grinding, no protection, dubcon.

Characters✧ Boothill

Words✧ 1464

Summary✧ As a waitress for one of the most popular bars in penacony, you’ve met your fair share of strange characters. A smug man adorned in exotic furs who tried making a bet with the bartender, a sparkling knight who gave every lady in the bar a rose without even staying for a drink, even an enigmatic woman carrying a purple katana with eyes like a serpent who sat alone at the end of the bar. But never have you met a man like Boothill. A man of steel and whiskey, tying you in hemp like you’re nothing but a naughty cow he’s gonna tame. Give him a rodeo he won’t forget.

“Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Here’s your sundae,” you place a decked out desert in front of an impatient woman who snarls a crude thanks. You’d like to give her a good smack for making you fetch her four other deserts until she is finally satisfied but you had already been scolded two times already. You couldn’t afford to lose another job. Not in this “thriving” economy that had the lower class slaving away while the rich babbled over dozens of mugs of beer or road cars that sped down the busy streets like a comet streaking through the night sky.

You pushed away the unrealistic thoughts and got back to work. “What would ya like, sir?” “How can I help ya, ma’am?” “Would ya like a refill?” The thoughts buzzed and bounced around in your head like a hive of bees; it was beginning to drive ya mad. That was until they suddenly went dead silent.

You placed another tray of expensive alcohol (stuff you’d never dream of buying) onto the faded wooden counter when the doors of the bar flew open, almost splintering into pieces. A shot blasted out into the sky.

“YEEEEHAWW!! How’s all yall fiendin’ tonight?” He hollered out into the crowded bar catching everyone’s attention, including yours. Even though you’ve never seen this man before in your life, the guests erupted into cheers, some even standing up to greet him or share drinks. At Leary it gave you a few seconds to scope him out. He wore a tight, jet-black leather vest and pants, held up by a brown and heavy gold belt. Yet, that wasn’t the main thing that caught your eye. His vest appeared to be cut right above the nipples. But, strangely enough, he didn’t really have any. Instead, his entire upper body from the neck down to his feet and fingertips was entirely plated with titanium, or some similar shiny metal. Could he be some type of robo cowboy?

“Heyyyy little lady, whatcha doin’ on yer own?~” you gasped as he pushed you up against the counter, humming right against your ear with such a deep country accent you felt your legs tremble. He seemed to notice it too, his smirk stretching into a full on smile. “Oh my sweet darlin’, yer gonna fly away like a mayflower in May if ya keep trembling’ like that. Don’t worry babydoll, I got ya~” he chuckled with that rugged, sultry voice as he playfully stroked your hips, as if he was tinkering with some kind of machine, steadfast on fixing your loose legs. But his tinkering only wet your face ablaze.

Who even WAS this man?! You wanted to push him away and scold him but your hips were pinned so hard to the counter you could feel every inch he had. No, you can’t think such dirty thoughts about a guest, no matter how persuasive they were. And damn, was her persuasive.

“What’s with that look, darlin’? Scared I’ll bite?” Lets out a small laugh, “I might be gentle with it if ya say please, mister…~”

“P-please… mister.” you managed out breathlessly

“Awh, aren’t you a cute little lady~ why not we find out what these metal hands’a mine can do to those barrels yer hauling around, huh doll?~” his hands roamed up your body and gave your breasts a firm squeeze. That little move of his snapped you out of your lustful daze to deliver a fiery slap across his cheek.

He takes it like a champ and lets out a light whistle, “wow baby, you sting like hot iron~”

“Y-you can’t just jump on top of a stranger and have your way…” you cross your arms and turn around, peeking back at him to see his reaction. Any other waitress would have called the Bloodhounds of him. But you weren’t just any woman. You were dying for something actually interesting to your monotonous assembly-line ass job and this cowboy might be your ticket to freedom.

“Awwwhhh come on, doll face~ I ain’t mean no harm. When I saw yer curves dressed in that get up I knew I hadta show ya how to properly ride a bull~” he leans forward, taking your hand in his and kissing it with a flirtatious wink. He begins walking back to the door, your hand still in his, “if ya want some hands on learnin’, follow me, pretty thing.”

You immediately ripped off your stained waitress uniform and ran to his side, “Oh Boothill, I’ve been itching for this~”

“Have ya, now?~” he raised an eyebrow in amusement and pulled you into a nearby alleyway, “Well I know just the way to solve a pesky itch~”

“How will-“ before you could even finish your sentence he lifted both of your legs and swung them over his shoulders, your aching pussy pushed flush against his toned metallic abdomen. The hard surface sent electricity zapping through your wet folds; you were not sure if it was your desire or his robotic body sending out small shocks as if to warn you about the power it can showcase.

“Overwhelmed already?~ never been dicked down by a real man, have ya, darling?” He teases, stoking your flames.

“N-no, I have… m-many times…” you bluffed.

“You sure, babydoll? Cuz this cute little pussy down here’s singin’ a different tune and myyyy is it a sweeten’~” he bites his lip as he rubs his hips side to side, the hard as metal rod in his pants grinding against you so good you felt like cumming already and he wasn’t even inside yet.

“P-please….” You begged between gasps.

“Please what, doll?~” he smirked wickedly.

“P-please… p-ple… pl… ease….” You choked out each word, struggling to put them together.

“Two little words and I’ll stretch ya out so good your kitty’ll meow so loud they’ll call animal control,” he gave your chest another teasing squeeze.

“P-please… boothiiiiiilllll….” You cried out.

“That’s a good girl…~” his eyes narrowed with focus as he pushed aside your drenched panties and stroked your folds up and down.

“So sticky and wet… like a rich lil beehive overflowing with thick honey…” he once again rested his head on your shoulder as he aligned himself to your twitching pussy. Without so much as a warning, he rammed right inside, immediately hitting the deepest reaches of your womb, making you release an embarrassingly loud cry and a hot stream of cum all over his shiny abs. “Wowie…~ someone’s really been dying for a proper fucking, huh?” He gripped your hips tight and grunted as he attempted a deeper thrust, “I’ll milk this pretty hole for all its for.”

“Aaaaggh... nnnagggg… s-stop… n-no deep… we… aaACK!~” you choked out moan after moan, almost like you were a pent up teen again. No matter how much you begged, he only went faster and harder, with enough robotic accuracy and consistency you knew you’d be sore for days. It was like he filled each slap of skin with a silent promise to somehow, some way, get you pregnant.

He let out a particularly loud groan in your ear, “oh baby, if ya squeeze me like that… ohhhh doll…~ I just can’t take much more-a this.~ Ya ready? Ready for a real mess?”

“Y-yeah-ahh! Yeeaaaahhhh-Ahhh!” You cried out.

“Darn baby…. Oh… oh fu- f-fudge…. Hold on baby, I’m almost… oh darling, you’re perfect for me!~” with one last growl you feel a large burst of warm cum burst inside of you, dripping out onto the concrete of the secluded alleyway. But instead of giving himself even a moment’s rest, he bites his lip and shoves himself right back in, humping at you like a dog in heat.

“Shi-sugar baby, I just can’t stop breeding this pretty hole… And these massive tits here don’t make it any easier~” he gropes them a bit more before pinching your nipples with a naughty smile.

“A-aaagh!”

“Ohhh~ did someone like that~” he begins fucking you harder and licks your neck, “I didn’t know I had such a foxy lady under me~”

“P-pleasssseeeee boothill…”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get ya to that edge again…. And again and again and again, oh, you’ll have so much fun with me,” he laughed before delivering a cheeky bite to your neck. Your moans began to soften as your vision darkened, which he caught onto almost as fast as he’s drilling into you.

“I’ve got ya, doll… just let the darkness settle in.” He whispers with a soothing groan as he litters a series of bites along your neck and shoulder, each one fading your vision faster until it is purely black. When the morning comes, you’ll definitely get an ear full from your boss. That is…. If you choose to awake from this beautifully sexy daydream.

Hellooo everyone, I’m so terribly sorry it’s been so long. My life’s gotten a whole lot busier and I haven’t had any inspiration to write in a very very long time. BUT!! Even though this ain’t much compared to my usual stuff, I hope it’s still enjoyable to you all. I love yall so much, looking back at all the kind comments and likes warms my heart more than anything. See yall soon! (I’d be down for a part two if yall like 👀)

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr smut #boothill #boothill x reader #Boothill smut #i’ve returned

[sordidmusings]

Thirsty Thursday with Insecure Buggy

A/N: Yay another Thirsty Thursday lol next I’m gonna be getting out less explicit things but for now have more smut sluts 🖤 thank you to @fanaticsnail for hyping me love you ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), all NSFW, getting down to nonsense on The Clown Throne, chop chop fuckery, praise, dirty talk, thigh riding, handjob, blowjob, face fucking kind of, clothed sex, lots of desperation and neediness, almost sub!Buggy, he gives you many pet names, praising Buggy because he's somewhat convinced you're doing this for the bit

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure, you’d flirted with him often, but he figured you must be doing that with everyone if it was coming his way. He was certain you were out of his league; if your steadfast dedication and addicting personality weren’t enough then looking at you would let anyone know why. He’d seen members of his crew float around you in search of connection so why would you float to him?

“Stop thinking so hard, baby,” you whisper in his ear before going back to sucking on his neck. Your hips continue their steady grinds against the long erection trapped in his pants. Buggy’s head is leaned back and tilted, desperately offering you as much skin as he can to feel more of your kisses blazing across him. The heat of your mouth and tongue radiate out to his whole body, emptying his mind and quickening his heart. He pants, feeling like air wasn’t enough, but he holds back most of his moans, only letting the ones he could force deep in his voice to go by. He doesn’t want to move too much or be too loud for fear that it would startle you out of whatever has gotten into you to make you climb on top of him on his throne. His hips do work with you though; he couldn’t stop himself from grinding back into you if he tried. The warmth and weight of you is better than his private thoughts could conjure and the way your thighs and ass molded to him make him feel like he could properly attach to you and never let go. The thought of being tied together has his fingers digging harder into your thighs and even gets a whinier moan passing his open lips.

“Captain, you sound so good,” you praise him. You’ve long noticed his hesitation and want to unravel him. Pulling back to look at his face, you bat your lashes at him. “Can I have more?”

“Fuck, dollface, you’re gonna make me lose my head,” Buggy groans. Even in his overwhelm he manages to tilt his face down and waggle his brows at the stupid reference to his powers. You give him a huff of a laugh for his efforts, while your hands curl around the fur lining his jacket. You jerk him towards you, stopping him just short of your noses meeting. Letting him wait for a moment, you watch his hooded eyes admire you, looking first into yours before flicking over your face and settling on your lips. His tongue flicks out to wet his own and you dive in to chase it back into his mouth.

Buggy meets you eagerly, vibrating a grumbling moan into you. His hips pick up beneath you while his hands massage up your thighs to begin working into the meat of your hips. Once they’ve properly sunk in, he guides your hips against him in a needy pace, dragging his hardness deliciously against your clothed cunt. He relishes in the pleased sighs and moans he earns from you, each one making his chest flutter and his dick throb. He wants to slow down and keep this going as long as possible but he can’t help himself.

You shift back and to the left, centering your pulsing cunt on top of Buggy’s right thigh. He hates the distance and uses his clinging grip to pull you flush to him. The whole way, delicious pressure licks at your swollen clit. The closeness has his hip bone snuggled up to your mound, feeling divine when grinding lets it offer indirect pressure to your bud. You had wanted to bounce closer to his knee but this is a wonderful substitute, since you’re craving closeness just as much as he is. Buggy continues guiding you against him, pressing his forehead down into your shoulder to keep himself from moving you too quickly.

Your hands slide up and tug his bandana off, releasing his long hair. It feels so nice with your hands fisted into it. At your light tug, Buggy moans loud and long, sounding fucked out without even getting inside you. “Doll, pleaaaaase.” He isn’t even sure what he’s begging for. Wanting to muffle the whiny sounds leaving him, Buggy turns his face to bury it in your neck, working hard to send tingles across your skin and leave you with pretty marks. He knows they’ll look gorgeous under the smears of his makeup.

“Wanna taste you,” you moan to him and his cock throbs hard. He bites out a breathy “fuck” at the idea and bites eagerly at you, but he won’t let you move back. He can’t stand any distance from you at the moment but refuses to voice that. You figure it out, however, when his right hand slides up your spine to keep your chest pressed tight to his. One of your hands leaves his hair to pull at his waistband and shove beneath it. His cock feels hot and wet in your hand, making your head spin at how worked up he is for you - he’s positively dripping.

“You’re fucking perfect, Captain,” you groan, feeling his dick jump at your words. Buggy trembles beneath you, overwhelmed at your touch and the euphoria of hearing you praise him. He’d rarely let himself enjoy cumming to the fantasy of you calling him pretty things; he found that it made a lonely ache settle in his heart once the burning joy drained out of his chest, leaving him alongside the delusions of your affection. But you’re real now, fulfilling his wishes and why?

“Don’t taunt me,” Buggy grumbles, some actual anger creeping into his tone.

“I’m not,” you respond incredulously.

“I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea,” he grouses, slowing his movements in his souring mindset. His body at least is still as eager; his cock stays just as rock hard in your hand. You keep up your slow pumping and turn to trail sweet kisses across his shoulder and up his neck. The flowing strands of his hair that spill everywhere feel just as soft against your lips as they do on your fingertips. You reach his ear, which peaks out between the blue rivers of his hair.

“Well you’re my cup of tea, and if I had my way you’d just be mine,” you whisper, tickling his ear with your hot breath. Buggy ramps up the circling of your hips again, moaning prettily for you.

“Don’t say that,” he whines. His eyes are scrunched shut, protecting himself from the temptation of your words and how quickly your touch is beginning to send him to his end.

“Fine. Then I’ll say this.” You pull a shiver from him by nipping his ear earlobe. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes and the most handsome face I’ve ever seen,” you begin, moving your hand lower to fondle his heavy balls. He shifts his thighs wider to beg for more. “It’s like your jaw was cut from marble and that stubble is so fucking hot.” You use the hand in his hair to pull his head up and rub your cheek into the scratch of his dark blue facial hair. “I’ve been dying to see what you look like under your clothes; watching those muscles of yours in your arms work is enough to get me daydreaming.” Buggy thinks that sounds great; he’s feeling way too hot for all the layers on his body. “Even more than that, I need to touch you.” You slide your grip back up to give him a squeeze and thumb at the head of his cock. “I’ve thought about it every day - thought about you making me yours.”

“Shut up,” Buggy begs weakly, his body and mind burning uncontrollably for you.

“Detach this,” you order, squeezing his cock again. Buggy obeys without thought, head too busy drowning in your praises. You pull him from his trousers with ease, since he only detached his actual penis, and bring it up to your lips. You place a loving kiss on his frenulum before flicking your tongue on it playfully. Buggy jolts back to look at you with foggy eyes. His swollen lips look so pretty, hanging open to pant and highlighted by all that red paint. You won’t tell him because you know how sensitive he is, but his red nose matching his red lips looks beautiful and makes all the blue in his eyes, makeup, and hair even more handsome.

Buggy’s eyes are glued to you to watch his tip disappear into your mouth right next to his face. His eyes flutter with the want to roll back but he stubbornly keeps them on you, needing to absorb this in his memory. You’re inching him in slowly, letting him catch every detail of the act that was making him feel so fucking good. The swirl of your tongue against him makes his eyes shut a few moments before blinking open again. High moans struggle out of him with his breath and his brow creases above his glossy eyes. When the tip reaches the back of your mouth, you give a firm suck around him. He groans and stutters the pace of your hips, fingers twitching against you.

You pull him back out of your mouth and loll your tongue out to lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock. Continuing to put on a show, you sweep the tip of your tongue around his head before licking your lips and swallowing heavily. You get a show in return, watching pleasure and need play out clearly on his flushed face.

“Oh shit, sugar, you’re so fucking good for me,” Buggy moans. You sink him all the way into your mouth again for his hungry gaze. His voice turns reverent as he watches you. “My doll -hah- my spotlight.” Fuck, that sent you clenching. You grind your hips down into him harder while you pull him back out to suckle at his head. His warmth is still seeping right into your hips and thighs even through his leather pants and your shorts, the seam of which was pulling tight and teasing at you perfectly. You were beginning to struggle with thrusting Buggy into your mouth while he turns your mind to mush with the way his death grip is grinding you onto him. You get an idea for a solution and a shiver crawls up your spine in anticipation.

“Fuck me, Buggy,” you plead on a whisper before sliding him back past your lips. Buggy throws his head back, clunking it into the wood of his seat, and gasps out a “yes”. His dick begins moving on its own, tentatively grinding against your tongue first to get you used to it. Slowly, his shallow movements gain more length but keep their indulgently slow pace. Once he’s approaching your throat on the push in, you ease your head backwards to line him up. Buggy pants out curses at your willingness to be used and to please him, swearing to himself that he’ll pay you back ten times over for doing this for him.

The rest of his thoughts leave him when he slides his dick lower to stretch out the entrance of your throat. You are in a similar state, struck with the heady feeling of him using you in such a sinful way. It’s deliciously overwhelming in conjunction with the buzzing shooting through you from rubbing your pussy across his leg. A loud moan shakes through your throat, into his head, up his shaft and Buggy loses any ability to hold back.

He curls into you, burying his face into your shoulder and neck, moaning and whining against you. The hand at your back is clawing and tugging at you, desperate to keep you as close as possible, while the one on your hip continues encouraging your heavy grinds into his thick thigh. The muscle keeps tensing against your drooling pussy, helping to increase the friction. The seat underneath you both groans at your growing motions but you ignore it as easily as you ignore the armrests digging into your knees. Buggy is the only thing on your mind - the push and pull of his grasp, the overwhelmed sounds spilling from his lips, the pressure of his thigh sparking pleasure through you, and the thick cock fucking your breath out of you. The need to breathe through your nose causes you to take in lungfuls of his musk and shampoo and salty air. 

“My sweet -nngh- sweet star, you feel so -hahn- good taking me like that,” Buggy pants, painting your neck with humid breath. He’s losing himself to the sloppy sounds of his dick fucking your mouth and the fervent vibrating moans you use to sing out how good he’s making you feel. “Need to slow down or -aaaahh- you’re gonna make me cum too soon-Fuck!” You had forced the curse from him by groaning even louder to the thought of him cumming.

Keeping his arm around you, Buggy detaches his hand to sneak it into the front of your shorts. His eyes roll back when he feels how wet you are; enough that your grinding already smeared it up and over your clit. “You’re so damn perfect, sweetness, can’t -nnngah- believe you’re here riding my thigh,” he moans. He begins sliding shapes over your swollen bud, needing you to be as close as he is. His words and ministrations have you sobbing around the slow thrusts of his cock. Despite your efforts to swallow your spit around him, a thin line of drool has begun to creep from the corner of your mouth and down your cheek. 

Buggy’s fingertips are trapped tight to you from your clothes and his thigh, his hip also keeping his hand curled firmly against your mound. Hot, syrupy pleasure is swirling through your clenching walls and thrumming strongly behind your clit. Your struggling breath keeps your mind scattered and hazy and sets tingles alight in your hands and feet. Each drumming beat of your heart highlights the promise of bliss tearing through your body.

“Need you to cum for me, dollface,” Buggy rushes out, “Ple-hease -hnnggaahhh- can you do that? -hhah- For me?”

Becoming overwhelmed with the pressure pounding between your hips, you twist your fist tighter into his thick hair, getting a heavy groan from him. Clumsy and frantic, your right hand moves back into his pants and cups his balls, earning a jerk of his hips - a bright shock to your clit.

“Fuck, doll! Don’t stop, don’t stop-”

Your hips are shaking in his grasp, adding jolts of extra friction on top of your steady bounces and his consistent swirling fingers. Buggy’s hips move to match the thrusts of his cock, massaging his tightening balls into your hand. His babbling gets higher and less and less coherent, matching the desperate way his dick twitches and throbs in your mouth. He’s gotten sloppy there, getting you to gag occasionally around his length when he accidentally shoves a little too deep or off rhythm. It gets you even dizzier and closer, feeling messy and animalistic in this rabid chase for each other’s climax.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, shit -nhah!- please I-” He’s already over the edge, pressing too deep into your throat and spurting hot cum for you to swallow. You would have choked if you didn’t catch your orgasm right with him, relaxing your throat and letting you swallow mindlessly. Both of you shook and clung to each other through the ride, hearts pumping scorching heat through your bodies. You can feel each of his breaths cramming his chest into yours and causing your breasts to rub against him. The tingling from your nipples was swept right into the whirlpool moving through you. 

Still pumping cum, Buggy pulls his cock back to rest the head on your tongue, which starts massaging at him, seeking more twitches and more to drink. Buggy is crying curses into your neck, well into the realm of ‘too much’ but adoring the way he feels like you’ve pulled him apart at the seams, coaxing the longest orgasm he’s known from him in throbs that just keep coming and coming and coming. You’re doing no better, marveling at the endless waves that seize your muscles and have colors dancing behind your scrunched eyelids. The flood of your orgasm slams through your whole body, saturating every nerve, before the receding tides are dragging and pulling at your trembling limbs.

In the wake of your pleasure, both of you are left to slump against each other, panting loudly. Buggy’s hand moves back to the arm held around you and joins the hand on your hip in the act of trailing soothing fingertips across your overworked muscles. You begin peppering happy kisses on Buggy’s shoulder, managing more and more as your breathing settles. You’re overcome with the need to smother him in affection, shimmying yourself to be centered on his lap and hugging him tight, snuggling your cheek into the crook of his neck. You card your fingers through his soft hair and scratch gently at his tender scalp. A rumbling moan leaves him at the feeling, and you giggle lightly at how much it reminds you of a purring cat.

“Can I-” You cut yourself off, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. Buggy hums and tilts his head against yours to prompt you to continue. “Can I sit with you here awhile?”

Buggy’s heart is fluttering at your words, making him fully lovesick in the swirl of endorphins. You thought he’d just want to fuck you and send you away? He can’t be fucked to guess at why you’ve chosen him at the moment, not after all that. He’s just going to do his damnedest to make the choice worth your while.

“Spotlight, pumpkin,” Buggy breathes, “you’re never leaving my side.”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

I had to add this at the end because it just fits too fucking well 💀💀💀

#buggy x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown #opla buggy #thirsty thursday #thirst hours #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #buggy smut #one piece × reader #one piece smut #afab reader #my writing #x reader

[laneywrld]

alienated | Lewis Hamilton

one shot

word count: 8.6k

warnings: angst

you've been on that spaceship all alone.

You and Lewis had been separated for three months, which, if you think about is very long when you compare it to the amount of time you spent apart when you were together. 

For four years, you and Lewis were inseparable, never spending more than a week apart. But that was then, and this is now, with three months of separation stretching out before you. 

The two of you separated for one straightforward reason: You were the only person present in the relationship. Between his silence and your overthinking, it became a mess in the end. 

Leaving Lewis was a heart-wrenching decision. The man you once believed would be your future husband, the man you were once engaged to, was now a distant memory.

As you reflect on the past, you realize how much you had been neglected. This realization strengthens your resolve and affirms your decision to leave, reminding you of your worth.

You weren’t sure if Lewis loved you. He didn't communicate with you, show you any affection, or pay you any attention. He didn't put time aside for you. It was hell being in a one-sided relationship.

It began to be exhausting putting in all the effort and trying to get him to see you because lately, you hadn't felt that. 

It was a painful realization. Lewis, the man you loved, was slowly but surely draining you. His presence no longer brought you joy or adoration; it made you miserable. You felt like a ghost, unseen and unappreciated. 

But even then, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He'd had a hard season, was constantly stressed, and life wasn't going as planned. So, one more try: you would halt your efforts for one week while he was away in Miami. 

It was a test, really, to see if he was still putting in the effort, a plan meant to expose whether he even thought about you or remotely cared. If he could go a week without you in any form, he didn't deserve you or appreciate you. That would be obvious. Or he would notice, and he'd get his act together. But a part of you lacked faith in the latter option. In the end, his actions would give you an answer to the question you've had for a while.

Would you want to stay with someone like that? Someone who's okay without you or, worse, doesn’t even notice your change?

May fifth, the day of the race, would mark your fourth anniversary, and while he would be away, you were still curious to see what he had planned or if he remembered at all. 

Lewis left on Wednesday. It wasn't like your old send-offs. There were no passionate moments in bed, him leaving you something to remember him by or even your classic bye-bye brunches. He rolled his bags from your shared home while you were still deep in your slumber.

You awoke to an empty, cold house. 

You spent that day alone, with Roscoe, of course. Spending the next two days cuddled up to your fur baby and taking him on exciting new adventures. You nearly slipped up and sent Lewis many pictures and videos of you and Roscoe plenty of times, only to remember your end goal and lock your phone with a sigh. 

When Friday came around, and Lewis still hadn't so much as sent you a single text, you had an inkling of what you'd have to do come Sunday.

It was almost as if Roscoe could sense your turmoil; in return, he was extra clingy. He followed you everywhere, lying at your feet on the couch, snuggled into your side in bed, and even sitting patiently at your feet as you sat on the toilet. You could only sigh as you revel in the time you had with him. He was your good boy, your first child. The thought of missing him was nearly enough for you to call off your intentions, but then your therapist's words rang through your mind like a harsh reminder.

"Sometimes, you have to sacrifice your relationship with another for the sake of one; I know it might be hard to think about losing your friends and your little guy if you do find it's time to leave him, but in the end, your job is to save yourself. Never feel guilty for thinking of yourself for once. You'll always love them, yeah? He'll remember how much you loved him, and you'll miss him; he'll miss you. But how long can you survive in that relationship?"

You remember spending that entire session crying over how much you'd miss Roscoe as you contemplated the cons of leaving your relationship. 

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

On Saturday, you stayed awake even when your eyes begged you to close them. You kept your phone tucked beside you, and your eyes dropped as the clock hit twelve.

Every year before that, Lewis celebrated your love immediately. For three hours, you waited for something as simple as a text or a post—something to acknowledge you. After a while, your exhaustion won, and you succumbed to your tiredness. 

You tried not to get your hopes up when you awoke in the morning, your anniversary day. You felt like an idiot as you turned over your phone, and there was nothing from Lewis. Your expectations were still very much high, which is why you scrambled from the bed and rushed to the front door. Your intent to see if there were any florals delivered to your doorstep proved pointless as you swung open the door, and the only delivery had been your Amazon package.

With a disappointing sigh, you snatched it from the porch and called for Roscoe. You slipped on your Birkenstocks, leading him outside to relieve himself. You sat on the patio, bonnet on and nightgown pooling around you as you watched Roscoe run around in the yard. 

It was becoming real then. 

You stayed outside for an hour, playing around with Roscoe, chasing him, him chasing you, and even tossing his ball until you decided it was time to take action.

You hauled Roscoe into the home, giving him fresh water and food as you connected to the speaker and blasted your music.

Your impending decision wasn't so much impending anymore. You knew what you needed to do; sooner was better than later.

It was one in the afternoon, and if he hadn't shown any signs of acknowledgment at that time, you knew it wouldn't come. 

A small portion of you wanted to cry, burst into tears, and scream because of how hurt you were. But the dominant part of you was just angry. Lewis would learn his lesson; he'd miss you, and you'd make sure he felt it. 

You wanted him to miss you like you missed him. He'd find himself craving your random calls and appreciating your silly texts. He'd crave your warm embrace again, and he'd want to die without your unique smile and your loving eyes.

He'd want everything he had taken for granted because that is precisely what he had done. He made you feel alone, even when he was there. You were the shadow lurking in your home — the distant body in your shared bed.

You deserved someone who always told you he loved you, always hugged you, and never left without a kiss. You deserve a man who talks to you about everything, who cares about how your day went and how you feel. You shouldn't give everything and get nothing; you don't deserve that.

You've been nothing but superb to him. You always showed up for him when it mattered, embraced him when he was down or even when he was happy, cooked meals for him when he was home and made every dinner special for him. You asked him about his day every day, and you listened.

Lewis couldn't say the same, and he wouldn't be able to. And that was the straw on the camel's back. You refused to give that level of love to a man who wouldn't reciprocate it. You didn't care how much you loved him; that was a level of disrespect and negligence you weren't willing to tolerate. 

You weren't raised to accept the bare minimum, which was precisely what he gave you.

That was your moment of realization as you packed your bags. Lewis was due back Tuesday night, so you had the remainder of Sunday and Monday to gather your belongings and make your furtive exit. 

Lewis made P7; you knew this because as you separated your belongings from his, you had the race streaming on the TV mounted in your room. 

On Twitter, you saw him later that night out partying, and that only angered you for approximately ten minutes before you were only feeling disappointed in the man. You'd never been good at the art of detachment until then.

Suddenly, you weren't angry or furious with Lewis anymore; you felt content with your decision as you zipped up your last suitcase and taped up the last of your boxes.

As night fell and night arrived, you lay in your shared bed for the last time, Roscoe's head on your tummy as he snored. Your hand caressed his head in gentle rubs, and you sigh. 

When the clock hits twelve and your anniversary officially passes, you feel like an idiot for even having faith in the man.

First thing in the morning, the driveway was filled with moving trucks and workers. You sat patiently on the couch as you waited for Anthony to arrive. When the sun begins to set, and the loading is done, you see headlights beam through the windows. 

The door opens and closes softly, and there they stand, Anthony and Nicholas with glum faces. 

"Are you sure, love?" Anthony whispers as he approaches you. He looks so distressed that you can only nod back at him. He sits beside you, taking one of your hands in his. 

"As long as you are sure." And you break down into a fit of tears as Lewis' father comforts you, even as you leave his son. Nicholas takes the spot beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you.

"You gave him time and chances," Anthony hums, his free hand rubbing circles on your back. "I love my son, and I love you just as much; we will always love you."

Nicholas hums in agreement. "Still going to be our family."

You know you must leave before you allow your love for his family to deter you. So you take one last shaky breath, standing to your feet, where Roscoe waits patiently. You squat down, tears falling from your eyes and soaking into his fur. 

"I love you, buddy. So much, you're my good boy." You whisper, kissing his head over and over.

You stand again, looking at Anthony and Nicholas one last time and pulling them into separate hugs. "Thank you." You whisper out and pass the keys over and instructions on properly caring for Roscoe, even if they will only have him for less than a day.

"I'll be waiting to talk to you again," Anthony announces, and you nod. 

"Don't tell him?" you request. I've left him a letter upstairs; I'd like him to find out on my terms.

They nod, and you trek through the house and out of the front doors to what used to be the home you planned on spending the rest of your life in.

As you close the door, you hear Roscoe's incessant whines and scratches against it, and you sob all over again as you continue your journey to your car. 

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

You weren't selfish for choosing yourself, especially over a person whose life you're choosing to walk out of because you didn't feel as if you belonged in it anymore. You didn't belong in that house anymore, in that relationship. You didn't belong with Lewis. It was a harsh and painful reality. But change is unbearable, and from change comes growth. And that growth can also be painful. But nothing would ever compare to the pain of staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. Nothing would ever hurt you more than loving a man more than he loved you.

You always preached about "when you know, you know." You've always felt it, that gut feeling that it was time for something new. You were great at knowing when to move on and let go and acknowledging when those shifts needed to be addressed. You loved to say out with the old and in with the new. The point is that you never struggled with trusting the process of life until life told you that you weren't meant for Lewis. 

This was the first time that you doubted the imminent change. This change meant that you were fleeing from your love. As you backed out of the driveway, your vision blurred by burning tears; you could only cry as you mourned the love you once had. But this was all for a greater purpose, the purpose of you finding joy in life again because you sure have felt drained of it.

-

Tuesday came and went, and as night fell, Lewis pulled into the driveway. Given the closed four-car garage, he did not find it suspicious that your car was missing. He grunted as he pulled his suitcase from the trunk and eased up the steps and into his foyer.

He isn't immediately greeted by Roscoe or your arms wrapping around him, and he squints when he sees how dark and cold it is inside the home.

That put him on edge.

You always liked a warm glow emitting through the home, so a dim lamp was always on to illuminate the open floor plan. At night, you liked the home to be slightly warm, like a spring breeze, yet there was an icy chill running through it.

He calls out your name as he settles his bags by the door. He even calls Roscoe, and when he hears nothing, he sets a fast pace up the stairs.

"Babe!"

No response.

When Lewis reaches the second level, he immediately heads to your guys' room. When he hits the light switch, he suddenly becomes aware of how cold and barren the room looks and feels. 

You're not snuggled into the middle of the bed like he usually finds you; his pillow isn't locked in your arms and held to your chest. You're not there.

Your small trinkets are no longer scattered around the room, and he rushes to the closet; none of your belongings are there. Lewis feels his heart rate accelerate as fear creeps into his body.

He turns to face the bed again, and when he sees your nightstand, he rushes over; your ring sits in the same velvet box he proposed to you with, and a piece of paper is lying underneath it. He snatches them both up, his mind reeling, and suddenly, he feels like he could throw up.

I've made a decision that was hard for me in the beginning and became clearer as the days went on. I've gotten comfortable with the bare minimum. It's been my normal for a while. I'm choosing to evolve, grow, and learn to accept what I deserve. It'd be more challenging for me to stay with you than it would be for me to leave you. I've realized that. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was the same routine; you never noticed me or acknowledged me. I've tried to address this issue, and it's done nothing; you've done nothing but give me baseless promises. I can no longer stick around for a relationship where I've been the only one present. No matter how much I love you. And I really did love you, with everything in me. I should’ve never allowed myself to get comfortable with how you neglected and fell out of love with me. I've chosen you repeatedly, but this time, I must choose me; I have to, Lewis. Happy anniversary. 

Your dad has Roscoe.

Lewis squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his chest with a firm grip. His body quivers as he slumps onto the ground, his back against the bed frame. Lewis wasn't new to panic attacks, especially with all of the stress he took on from his job. But this was his first time having to suffer through one without you.

The world seemed to close in on Lewis, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest as his heart raced uncontrollably. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the invisible hands that seemed to be squeezing the air from his lungs.

His vision blurred, the edges of his sight becoming hazy and indistinct as panic tightened its grip. Thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind, a cacophony of fears and anxieties swirling around him, threatening to engulf him in their dark embrace.

Desperately, he tried to ground himself, to find some semblance of stability amidst the chaos. He focused on his breath, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of his heart. But each attempt felt like grasping at smoke, his efforts slipping through his fingers like sand.

His body trembled with the intensity of his panic, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin as waves of nausea washed over him. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape, a relentless onslaught of terror that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, somewhere deep within him, a flicker of resilience remained. Despite the overwhelming darkness that threatened to engulf him, he clung to the hope that this too shall pass, that he would emerge from the storm-battered but unbowed. But this hope came to him as visions of you.

In the midst of the chaos swirling around him, Lewis found himself grasping desperately for something, anything, to anchor him to reality. And amidst the turmoil, your memories came flooding back like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth of those memories. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, a melody that calmed the frantic rhythm of his heart. He remembered the way your smile could light up even the darkest of days, the way your touch could banish the shadows of doubt and fear.

With each breath, he summoned forth another memory, another moment shared between you two. The way you would lose yourselves in the conversation for hours on end, the way you would always know just what to say to ease his troubled mind.

It was as if you were there with him, a comforting presence in the midst of the storm. And with each memory, each recollection of your time together, the panic began to recede, like a tide slowly ebbing away from the shore.

In those moments, surrounded by the echoes of your love, Lewis found the strength to carry on and learn to breathe again. Though you were no longer by his side, your memory was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love endures. And with that realization, he took a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting ever so slightly from his shoulders as he found solace in the embrace of their shared past.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tide began to recede. His breaths grew steadier, the racing of his heart gradually slowing to a more manageable pace. The world around him began to regain its focus, the blurred edges sharpening into clarity once more.

As Lewis rereads your letter, a torrent of emotions overwhelms him, but solace is elusive. Instead, a heavyweight settles in his chest, burdened with the weight of misery and guilt.

Your words, filled with love and longing, only serve to magnify his pain. With each sentence, the guilt gnaws at him, a relentless voice whispering accusations in his ear. He replays the moments leading up to your departure, dissecting his actions and words, searching for where he went wrong.

The memories of your time together, once a source of comfort, now feel like daggers piercing his heart. Each moment of happiness is tainted by the knowledge of your absence, a constant reminder of his failure to hold onto what he cherished most.

As tears blur his vision, Lewis finds himself consumed by remorse. He wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script, and undo the mistakes that led to this moment. But the past is immutable, and he is left to grapple with the consequences of his actions.

In the depths of his misery, Lewis feels utterly alone, adrift in a sea of regret and self-recrimination. He longs for a reprieve from the agony that threatens to consume him, but it remains elusive, just out of reach.

And yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remains. Deep down, Lewis knows that redemption is possible and that forgiveness can be found even in the darkest of times. But for now, he must navigate the storm of his emotions, clinging to the hope that one day, he will find peace once more. That you loved him enough to give him one more chance.

-

In the quiet moments of the day, when the hustle and bustle of life subsides, you find yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that lingers despite your efforts to embrace change. Three months have passed since you made the difficult decision to leave Lewis behind, and while you've tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, a part of you still aches for what was lost.

Life has moved on, as it always does, and you've thrown yourself into new experiences and opportunities, hoping to fill the void left by Lewis' absence. But no matter how hard you try, there's a lingering sense of incompleteness that tugs at your heartstrings, a yearning for the familiarity and comfort of what once was.

In the midst of laughter and celebration, there are moments when you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering back to the memories you shared with Lewis. The sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace – they haunt you like ghosts, reminders of a love that once burned bright but has since faded into the recesses of memory.

You've tried to convince yourself that you've moved on, that you're better off without him, but deep down, you know the truth. Life may be different now, but it's not necessarily better. There's a void within you that no amount of change or distraction can fill, a longing for something – or someone – that you can't quite shake.

And so, as you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you're left to confront the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, embracing change isn't enough to heal the wounds of the past. Despite your best efforts to move forward, a part of you will always be tethered to the love you left behind.

In the wake of leaving Lewis and embarking on a new chapter of life, there's a profound sense of loss that lingers within you. While you navigate the complexities of change and try to come to terms with the absence of Lewis, there's another absence that weighs heavily on your heart – the absence of your beloved canine companion, Roscoe.

Roscoe was more than just a pet; he was a faithful friend, a source of unconditional love and companionship through the highs and lows of life. His wagging behind and eager eyes greeted you each day, offering comfort and solace in moments of joy and sorrow alike.

In the quiet moments when the world slows down, and the noise fades away, you find yourself missing Roscoe more than ever. The memory of his warm presence, the feel of his fur beneath your fingertips, it all comes flooding back with a bittersweet intensity that catches you off guard.

You long to hear the sound of his paws padding across the floor, to feel the weight of his body nestled against yours as you curl up on the couch together. The emptiness left by his absence is palpable, a silent reminder of the void that he once filled in your life.

And yet, despite the pain of separation, there's a deep sense of gratitude for the time you shared with Roscoe. The memories you created together are a testament to the bond you shared, a bond that transcends time and distance.

As you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you find yourself missing your tiny makeshift family, his family included. 

Losing Lewis also meant losing the connection you had with his family, a connection that had become a source of warmth and acceptance in your life, especially given the complexities of your own family dynamics.

Growing up, your relationship with your family had always been strained, marked by misunderstandings and distance. But with Lewis' family, you found a sense of belonging that had eluded you for so long. Their laughter filled the air with joy, a stark contrast to the somber silence that often hung over your own family gatherings.

They embraced you as one of their own, welcoming you into their home and their hearts. Losing them in the separation felt like losing a piece of yourself, a painful reminder of the fragility of the connections we forge in life.

In the quiet moments when the ache of separation threatened to overwhelm you, you found yourself yearning for the familiar comforts of their presence. Their voices, their hugs – they were precious memories that you held onto tightly, like fragile treasures in the depths of your soul.

As you navigated the aftermath of the separation, you couldn't help but mourn the loss of not only Lewis but also his family. Their absence left a void in your heart, a sense of loss that weighed heavily on your spirit.

Leaving Lewis meant that you lost everything. 

As you reflect on your decision to leave Lewis, the memories of his distance weigh heavily on your heart. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone, like a lone traveler traversing a vast expanse of loneliness.

The moments of connection that once filled your days together had become increasingly rare, replaced by silence and a growing sense of isolation. It seemed as though you were the only one putting in the effort to keep the relationship alive while Lewis drifted further and further away, lost in his own thoughts and concerns.

You longed for the closeness and intimacy that had once defined your relationship, but it felt like an impossible dream, a mirage shimmering on the horizon, always just out of reach. No matter how hard you tried to bridge the gap between you, it seemed to widen with each passing day until it felt like you were living in two separate worlds.

In the end, you made the difficult decision to walk away, not because you stopped loving Lewis but because you couldn't bear the loneliness of being the only one fighting for the relationship. It was a choice born out of self-preservation, a refusal to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for the sake of a love that had long since grown cold.

And now, as you navigate the aftermath of the separation, you can't help but wonder if things could have been different if there was anything you could have done to save what was lost. But deep down, you know that sometimes, letting go is the only way to find the happiness and fulfillment you deserve. So you go about your day, cozied up on the couch in your cozy apartment, still missing Lewis but very much understanding of your decision.

-

As Lewis sits alone in his room, his phone is clutched tightly in his hand, and he can't shake the feeling of desperation that washes over him. He's tried everything – calling, texting, even reaching out through social media – but all his attempts to contact you have been met with silence.

Each unanswered call and unanswered message feels like a dagger to his heart, a painful reminder of your absence and the uncertainty that now looms over his life. He wonders what he could have done differently to prevent this rift from forming between you.

His mind races with questions, each one more torturous than the last. Was there someone else, or was it simply a case of drifting apart, with two souls heading in different directions? He refused to believe that because he loved you more than life, he still does. 

The lack of closure gnaws at him, a relentless ache that refuses to be quelled. He longs to hear your voice, to see your face, to have just a moment of connection with you again. But no matter how hard he tries, you remain elusive, like a ghost slipping through his fingers.

In the depths of his despair, Lewis clings to the hope that someday, somehow, he'll find a way to reach you, to break through the walls that separate you and bridge the chasm that now divides your lives. 

-

As you step out for your first date since leaving Lewis, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you. It feels like a tentative step forward, a chance to explore new possibilities and rediscover a sense of joy and companionship. Chris seemed nice, and he was attentive to you, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

But as you arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere suddenly shifts, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy cloak. The flash of cameras blinds you momentarily as paparazzi swarm around, their lenses trained on you like predators stalking their prey.

Caught off guard, you freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. How did they find you? And more importantly, how will Lewis react when he sees the headlines splashed across the tabloids?

The date itself fades into the background as you're engulfed by a whirlwind of anxiety and fear. Thoughts race through your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Will Lewis think you've moved on too quickly? Will he feel betrayed by your decision to start dating again?

As the paparazzi continue to snap away, you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if your every move is being scrutinized and judged by the world at large. It's a stark reminder of the price of fame, the invasive nature of public scrutiny that leaves you feeling like a prisoner in your own life.

But still, your biggest concern was how Lewis would handle it.

-

He wasn't okay.

As Lewis catches wind of your date through the relentless paparazzi coverage, a storm of emotions rages within him. Jealousy, misery, and anger collide in a tumultuous whirlwind, threatening to engulf him in their tempestuous embrace.

The thought of you with another man fills him with a sense of unbearable longing and regret. He's missed you, more than he ever thought possible, and the idea of you moving on without him cuts him to the core. How could you be okay living without him, when every moment without you feels like a lifetime of emptiness?

In his mind, he replays the memories of your time together, each one a painful reminder of what he's lost. He wonders if he could have done things differently or if he could have been the partner you needed him to be. But now, it feels like too little, too late, as he watches helplessly from the sidelines as you move on with your life.

The bitterness of jealousy twists in his gut, fueling his anger and resentment. He wants to lash out, scream, and shout and make you understand the depth of his pain. But beneath the anger lies a deeper sadness, a profound sense of loss that threatens to consume him whole.

As Lewis grapples with his conflicting emotions, he's left to confront the harsh reality of your absence and the painful realization that he may have lost you forever. But he refuses to give up on you.

As Lewis observes the subtle ways you've been avoiding him, a mix of frustration and longing wells up within him. It's become increasingly clear that you're actively steering clear of any situation where you might cross paths, and while part of him understands, another part can't help but feel hurt by your apparent avoidance.

He's noticed your absence at mutual friend gatherings, the empty space where you used to stand, and it feels like a painful reminder of the void left by your departure. Each missed opportunity to reconnect only serves to deepen his sense of loss, leaving him to wonder if you'll ever be willing to face him again.

But amidst the disappointment, there's a glimmer of hope – your unwavering commitment to attending his brother's birthday celebration. It's a small gesture, but one that speaks volumes to Lewis. Despite the distance between you, despite the pain of separation, you're still willing to show up for his family, to be there for them in their moments of celebration.

In that realization, Lewis finds a sense of solace, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for reconciliation. He knows that healing takes time and that wounds need time to mend, but seeing you make an effort to be there for his family gives him hope that maybe, someday, you'll find a way to bridge the gap between you and find your way back to each other.

"She's going to be here?"

Nicholas nods cautiously, "Yeah, but Lewis, you have to let her be, okay?"

"What are you talking about? She's my fiance?"

"But she's not." Nicholas interrupts.

"And she hasn't been for half a year."

The words dawn on Lewis, and they make his heartache in a festering way, yet he can't help but feel comfort in knowing that for the first time, he'd be able to see you again, face to face. 

As you step into Nicholas' birthday party, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a tangible manifestation of the nervousness that courses through your veins. You know Lewis will be there, and the thought of facing him again fills you with a sense of apprehension and uncertainty.

Your heart races as you scan the crowded room, searching for any sign of him. Each familiar face you encounter sends a jolt of anxiety coursing through you, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the way you've been avoiding him.

Determined to keep your distance, you slip through the crowd like a ghost, carefully avoiding any areas where you suspect Lewis might be lurking. You plaster on a smile and engage in polite conversation with the other partygoers, but your mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of the man you're desperately trying to avoid.

As the night wears on, the tension in the air becomes palpable, a silent undercurrent that threatens to pull you under. You steal furtive glances around the room, half-hoping to catch sight of Lewis and half-dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits.

But as the hours pass and the party begins to wind down, you realize with a sense of relief that you've managed to make it through most of the evening without crossing paths with him. 

The knot in your stomach loosens ever so slightly, and you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

That is, until you see him.

As Lewis scans the room, his gaze inevitably falls upon you, blending seamlessly into the crowd. There's a longing in his eyes as he watches you from afar, a silent ache that tugs at his heartstrings with each passing moment.

He can't help but notice the way you move with a grace that belies the nervousness he knows must be churning within you. Despite your attempts to blend in, there's an undeniable magnetism about you that draws his gaze like a moth to a flame.

Memories of your time together flood his mind, a montage of moments both joyous and bittersweet. He recalls the way your laughter filled the room, the warmth of your smile, and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you were up to no good.

But beneath the surface, there's a sense of sadness, a yearning for the connection that once bound them together. He longs to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that now separates you, but he knows that now is not the time nor the place.

With a heavy heart, Lewis watches from a distance, his eyes lingering on you like a silent prayer. He knows that healing takes time, that wounds need time to mend, but deep down, he can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for reconciliation, an opportunity to find your way back to each other once more.

As your eyes lock with Lewis's across the pulsating dance floor, a surge of panic propels you into action. Without a second thought, you pivot on your heel and dart through the crowd, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild drumbeat.

Every fiber of your being screams for escape as you push your way toward the exit, the urgency of your flight drowning out the thumping bass of the music. But even amidst the chaos, you can feel Lewis's gaze burning into your back, his presence a heavy weight that follows you like a shadow.

With each step, your pace quickens, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you try to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the man you once loved. But no matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the memories that haunt you or the longing that lingers in your heart.

And then, just as you reach the sanctuary of the exit, you feel a hand grasp your arm, pulling you to a sudden stop. You turn to face Lewis, his eyes searching yours with a desperate intensity that leaves you reeling.

In that moment, you're paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the desire to confront the emotions that swirl between you. But before you can make a decision, Lewis's voice breaks through the chaos, a whisper of longing that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a sense of inevitability, you realize that there's no escaping the truth – no matter how hard you try to run, the bond between you and Lewis refuses to be broken. And as he reaches out to you, his desperation palpable, you know that you can't ignore the pull of fate any longer.

"Baby, please, let me talk to you."

As you finally turn to face Lewis, the sight of him stops you dead in your tracks. His eyes, usually so full of life and vitality, now seem dulled with a sorrow that cuts you to the core. They glisten with unshed tears, twinkling in the dim light of the club, and his fluttery eyelashes betray the vulnerability that lies beneath his stoic exterior.

At that moment, he looks like a kicked puppy, abandoned and alone, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the pain you've caused him. His expression is a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness, and it tugs at your heartstrings with a force you can't ignore.

Despite your best efforts to steel yourself against his gaze, you find yourself crumbling under the weight of his sorrow. The walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble, and all you can see is the hurt reflected in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out to him, your fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek. In that moment, you realize that you can't bear to see him hurting like this, that despite the pain of the past, your love for him still lingers like a ghost, refusing to be silenced.

You turn, allowing his grip on your arm to remain as you continue out the door. You are in a dark alley, he's still looking at you with that same miserable pout lodged onto his face.

"You left me," He whispers.

As Lewis's voice trembles with emotion, his words pierce through the barrier you've erected around your heart. The sincerity in his apology is palpable, each syllable weighted with the regret of past mistakes. You can't help but feel a tug at your own heartstrings, a flicker of empathy for the pain he's endured.

"And I don't blame you, I was shit to you. I've been struggling more than I care to admit," Lewis confesses, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. 

"The season has been relentless, and the constant setbacks with my car... it's been a mental battle I haven't been winning."

He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his anguish. "I know I haven't been myself lately, and I've taken that out on you. I'm sorry, truly. I never meant to hurt you, but I let my frustrations get the best of me."

There's a vulnerability in his voice as he lays bare his struggles, a raw honesty that cuts through the silence between you. "I see now how my actions have affected you, and it breaks my heart. You didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my pain, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

His gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I'm trying to work through this, to find my way back to myself so that I can be better for you. I want to be better for you." 

His admission hits you like a wave, washing away the bitterness and resentment that had taken root within you. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, the burden of hurt and anger finally dissipating in the face of his vulnerability.

With a heavy sigh, you meet his gaze, seeing the turmoil reflected in his eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the pain of the past, the love you once shared still lingers between you, a flicker of hope in the darkness of your regrets.

And as Lewis continues to pour out his heart, expressing his remorse for the loneliness you felt in the relationship, you find yourself nodding in understanding. You know all too well the toll that suffering in silence can take, and you can't fault him for wanting to shield you from his own pain.

In the quiet of the moment, you find solace in the shared acknowledgment of your struggles, a silent understanding that binds you together even as you stand on opposite sides of the divide. And as you reach out to him, offering a tentative embrace, he physically brightens as if you have taken the sun and held it right above him.

"I need you to know," Lewis begins, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability, "how miserable I've been without you. Your absence... it's been like a gaping hole in my chest, a constant reminder of what I've lost."

His words tremble with the weight of his emotions as he continues, "I've missed you more than I ever thought possible. Every moment without you felt like an eternity, and the emptiness of your absence was impossible to ignore."

"I know I've made mistakes, pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer," he admits, his voice thick with regret. "But please understand, it was never because I stopped loving you. If anything, it was because I loved you too much and didn't know how to cope with the pain of making you feel as miserable as I was, but in the end, that is exactly what I ended up doing."

Lewis's gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, how lost I am without you by my side."

As Lewis pours his heart out, his words piercing through the walls you've built around your own heart, you feel a lump form in your throat. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside you.

His vulnerability is a mirror to your own, and in that moment, you realize just how much you've missed him, how much you've longed to hear those words spoken from his lips. With a trembling breath, you close the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean in to kiss him.

The touch of his lips against yours is like coming home, a familiar warmth that envelops you in a cocoon of love and longing. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away – the pain of the past, the uncertainty of the future – leaving only the two of you reunited at last in a tender embrace.

As you melt into each other, the weight of the world falls away, replaced by the sweet promise of a new beginning. And as you pull back, breathless and teary-eyed, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

"Lewis," you begin, your voice soft but firm, "I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise that you'll open up to me next time, that you won't keep your struggles bottled up inside."

Tears still glisten in your eyes as you speak, but there's a determination in your voice that wasn't there before. 

"That's how it works in relationships, you know? We're supposed to be there for each other through the good times and the bad. And I want to be there for you, always."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. 

"I love you, Lewis, and I care about how you feel. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to internalize your emotions like you have to suffer alone. I want to walk through them with you, hand in hand."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue, "If we're going to make this work if we're going to have a future together, that has to change. We have to be able to lean on each other, share our burdens, and lighten each other's load. Can you promise me that, Lewis? Can you promise to let me in?"

"I promise I'll try," Lewis responds, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. "I know I haven't been the best at opening up, at letting you in, but I want to change that. I want to be more vulnerable with you, to share my struggles and my fears."

He reaches out, gently wiping away the tears that still linger on your cheeks. 

"I love you more than anything, and I don't want to lose you again. If that means being more open and honest about how I'm feeling, then I'll do whatever it takes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he continues, "You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I want to be there for you, too, to be the partner you deserve."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Together, we can get through anything. I believe that with all my heart."

As Lewis holds your hand, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, he can't help but notice the absence of the familiar weight of your ring. His heart clenches painfully in his chest at the realization, a sharp pang of regret shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't help but notice... your finger, it's bare." The words catch in his throat, choked with the weight of his own guilt and remorse.

His grip tightens ever so slightly as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away. "It pains me to see you without it," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I'm the reason you took it off, and I hate myself for it."

Tears gather in his eyes as he meets your gaze, his own filled with a mix of sorrow and longing. "I miss the way it sparkled on your finger, a constant reminder of the love we shared. I miss us, and I'm so sorry for everything."

With a gentle squeeze of Lewis's hand, you offer him a reassuring smile, your eyes soft with affection. "I missed you too, Lewis," you admit, your voice tinged with sincerity. "And I still love you, all the same."

You can feel the tension in his grip ease slightly at your words, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "As for the ring," you continue, a playful twinkle dancing in your gaze, "I suppose you'll have to put it back on my finger when we get home, won't you? Can't have everyone thinking I'm single, now can we?"

The corners of Lewis's lips quirk up into a hesitant smile at your jest, the heaviness in his heart beginning to lift. "I'd like that," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'd like that very much." And in that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

Lewis's eyes widen in disbelief as your words sink in, a glimmer of hope flickering to life in their depths. "You'll come home?" he repeats, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

A rush of emotions floods through him – relief, gratitude, and a profound sense of joy that threatens to overwhelm him. 

A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features with an infectious warmth. "Roscoe will be so thrilled to have you back, and so will I," he adds, his voice filled with genuine happiness. "I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong. Losing you has been hard on all of us," Lewis confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But seeing how miserable Roscoe has been without you at home... it breaks my heart."

He pauses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his concern. "He's been moping around, refusing to eat, just waiting by the door for you to come back. It's like he knows you're not coming back, and it's killing me to see him like this."

You can hear the pain in his voice, the weight of his worry pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I know he's just a dog, but he's family to us," he continues, his voice cracking with emotion. "And I hate that he's suffering because of me, because of my mistakes. I'm happy that you're coming back."

"I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong."

With a sense of renewed hope and determination, Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish into thin air. In that moment, surrounded by his love and warmth, you know that coming home was the right choice and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

As Lewis's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, a sense of clarity washes over you like a cleansing wave. In his embrace, surrounded by his love and warmth, you realize that the change you needed wasn't leaving him but instead learning to communicate with him all over again.

The weight of your decision to leave lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of lightness and freedom. You see now that leaving him only made you miserable, that true happiness lies in facing your challenges together, hand in hand.

With Lewis by your side, you feel stronger, more resilient, and ready to tackle whatever obstacles life throws your way. You understand that change isn't always easy, but it's necessary for growth and renewal.

In this moment, surrounded by his love and support, you know that change is indeed good and that together, you can navigate the twists and turns of life's journey with grace and resilience. And as you bask in the warmth of his embrace, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to start anew, to rebuild your relationship from the ground up, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

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why do I love writing angst? why is every draft I have depressing?

#lewis hamilton imagine #black reader #lewis hamilton #poc reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #black reader friendly #formula 1 #f1 #sir lewis hamilton

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Man's Best Friend - Daryl Dixon X Fem Reader

Title: Man's Best Friend

Daryl Dixon X Fem Reader

Additional Characters: Dog

Requested By: Anon!

WC: 1,700

Warnings: Mentions of walkers/zombies, Reader is afraid of dogs, teasing, banter, flirting, nicknames, soft Daryl, soft Dog lol, very brief mentions of anxiety attacks, mini angst, and fluff

Ever since you were a young child, way before the apocalypse broke out, you had always been afraid of dogs. Big or small, they all scared you. You didn't know exactly why you were afraid of them, maybe because you weren't really used to being near them as a kid, or even as an adult. Or maybe it was because a large Golden Retriever had once jumped up into your stroller when you were little, or at least, that was what your mother had told you had happened. You had no memory of it, nor when you started actually fearing man's best friend. 

Now, being afraid of them didn't technically mean that you hated them. Quite the contrary, you adored all animals, dogs included. You liked looking at them, petting them if you dared to do so and trusted or knew the owner. It all depended on the situation and, or course, the dog.

But it was difficult growing up. All around your neighborhood, a lot of people owned dogs. And though they were behind large fences most of the time, that didn't stop you from flinching every time they ran up to the fence, jumped, or barked - anything they did really, scared and stressed you out. 

You wished that you could not be afraid of them. You wished that you could be like others and see a dog without feeling the overwhelming and searing anxiety that coursed through your viens; chilling you to the bone as your eyes widened and your throat tightened - your whole body becoming frozen in fear.

Now, in the apocalypse, there weren't many animals, but you knew you'd eventually have a run-in with a dog at some point. They were smart and resilient creatures, that could easily outrun a walker or two. And you did. After traveling with Daryl for years, switching from group to group, losing loved ones and friends… You met Dog. Such a fitting name...

Dog was very cute, you'd give him that. He was a big, fluffy, soft-looking dog. He was seemingly friendly around the people he liked and was pretty vicious when attacking those trying to hurt the group or Daryl for that matter. 

For the months that Daryl had Dog, you had never pet him, or much if anything. You tried to stay as far away from him as possible when you could. But it was kind of hard when he was so close to Daryl. Thankfully, Daryl being the sweetest boyfriend in the world - and not wanting dog hair in the bed - wouldn't let Dog sleep in your shared bed. So that was nice. 

You did care for the dog though. You thought he was cute when he stared up at Daryl with those puppy eyes, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, panting slightly. He was cute. 

You'd even talk to him sometimes, using a baby-like voice when doing so if you pleased. You loved how happy he seemed to get, wagging his tail. 

Daryl on the other hand, noticed your apparent discomfort around Dog a long while ago - though it had lessened a bit over the years. It was still a bit obvious. He'd see you flinch if Dog came running up to see you to greet you or when you heard Dog bark. 

So he did his best to help you, often going on supply runs with you on one side of him and Dog on the other; blocking you from each other. He'd distract Dog with food or a random toy - stick, rag, rope, etcetera - so he could spend a bit more time with you. And he'd lock Dog out of the bedroom, making sure to set up a bed for him somewhere else in the home, so that you could have a worry-free sleep. 

Though he knew of your fear of dogs, he wanted to make sure you knew that Dog would never harm you. 

Laying on the couch, Dog laid on top of Daryl as the man brushed his hand through his thick fur. Dog laid happily, content at the affection and attention, and so was Daryl, but he was missing you. 

And you were only a couple of feet away.

Sitting on a chair, you quietly read a book, legs up on the red, plush cushion as you usually did in the presence of Dog. Subconsciously, you always pulled your legs up in front of the animal, your brain worried that, even though you knew Dog wouldn't do such a thing, that Dog wouldn't attack or jump up on you. 

Daryl watched as you read, unable to break his gaze away from you. Your face looked peaceful as your fingers lightly traced the pages of the book as you read, a content smile playing on your lips as you did so. He felt something tug at his heart as he admired you, the light from the window behind you illuminating your face softly. His eyes followed your form as you shuffled in your seat in the armchair, gently pushing your hair back behind your ears with the movement.

You were still reading, oblivious to Daryl's gaze. As said before, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You looked stunning in your simple band t-shirt and pj bottoms, your face clean of dirt and grime, freckles dusting your cheekbones as you licked your lips with the tip of your tongue. Your eyes were soft as they moved across the page, narrowing slightly when you turned to the next, brows furrowing as you continued. Must have been a good book, Daryl had thought.

"You're staring, D," Your voice interrupted his thoughts as you put your book down on your lap and shifted your position, stretching your arms above your head. Daryl averted his gaze, cheeks flushing a bit as you looked over at him. "What is it?"

Daryl grumbled slightly, turning his gaze to Dog, rubbing the dog's head, "Nothin', jus'... Ya look nice today." He answered softly, albeit a bit gruffly. 

Your smile grew, your cheeks warming, "Daryl..." You trailed off with a sigh, "You're too sweet." The hunter flushed again, ducking his head to hide his face with his hair. "You look handsome today too." You added, making Daryl huff, shaking his head. Biting your lip briefly, you moved your thumb in your book to mark your page as you closed it; giving the man all of your attention. "I mean it. You are."

Looking up, Daryl was surprised to find you gazing at him. You flushed lightly under his gaze and his breath caught in his throat as your eyes locked with his brown ones. You were gorgeous. He realized he was just staring, and quickly cleared his throat, "Uh… Thanks, Y/N." You smiled and nodded in response, though it faltered when your eyes glanced over at Dog. Daryl noticed this, seeing how your eyes softened, a certain longing in them as you watched him continue to pet Dog. “Do ya… Wanna pet him?” He then asked, making you blink rapidly.

You cleared your throat, looking back down at your book, “You know I do… I’m just-”

“Scared?” Daryl finished for you, watching as you shifted in your seat again, “He ain’t gonna hurt ya. Ya know that.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, “I know. Just nervous, cause well, he’s a big dog…”

Standing up, Daryl grunted slightly as he did so. Dog stayed put on the couch, watching as Daryl walked over to your chair. You looked up at him as he offered you his hand, which you glanced at briefly. “C’mon,” He said softly, a very, very small smile on his face. You gulped, taking his hand, your legs feeling a bit numb as he helped you stand. You felt your heart begin to race as he led you to the couch, your eyes unable to stray from Dog’s. “Yer fine,” You heard Daryl say, voice gruff at how low he was speaking, “Ya know him, he’s a good boy.” 

At that, you scoffed out a laugh, seeing Dog’s tail wagging with great speed as he looked up at you. “That’s gotta be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

Darly’s small grin widened slightly as he saw your shoulders drop, and your breathing normalized. Daryl stopped before Dog, an arm’s reach away, the dog in question staring up at you with those large puppy dog eyes.

“Alrigh’, reach yer hand out, let him sniff ya.” Daryl spoke, squeezing your hand as you hesitantly raised your free one. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

You held your breath, watching as Dog leaned forward and sniffed your hand, the warmth of his breath fanning over your hand. You quickly shut your eyes at the feeling, turning to nudge your face into Daryl’s shoulder. Your mind began to race with all sorts of different, terrible scenarios, your heart hammering in your chest; breath shallow. 

Until, you felt soft fur. 

You opened your eyes slowly, turning your head to watch as Dog rubbed his head under your hand, his tail wagging at high speeds. You blinked, pushing your head off of Daryl’s shoulder as you watched Dog. You felt a huge wave of relief flow over you, making you smile. With your own volition, you moved your hand, petting Dog’s head softly. He turned into your touch almost instantly, letting out a tiny sound as he pressed against your hand. He licked your fingers gently before licking your palm. 

Your heart ached at how happy this dog made you feel. You didn’t understand it yourself; it wasn’t something you experienced often. It was as if, in that moment, all the stress you were carrying disappeared. The fear and anxiety that had been plaguing you disappeared with him. You could barely breathe as your stomach fluttered.

Leaning your head back on Daryl's shoulder, you sighed as you continued to pet Dog. "Thank you, D." You muttered happily. 

He nodded his head, lightly squeezing your hand in his, "Knew ya could do it, sweetheart."

You smiled again. You could feel your cheeks growing warm, Dog whined softly from where he was now snuggled up against your hand; wanting more attention.

---

Main Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist

#cute #fluff #x reader #slight angst #fanfiction #fanfic #x female reader #x you #x y/n #request #requested #requested by anon #the walking dead #twd #daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl x you

[shuttlecarrier]

some concepts that have been plinking around in my mind.. assortment of some handmade toys from the geoling homeplanet and a child begging their older sibling to let them play with their collection of Annu. optional loredump info about this stuff under the cut ->

since geoling kids take a long time to grow up (they're considered an adult at 22-25 years old), they need a lot of attention and activity during that time period. they would be hell for a human to raise but visually very cute, they're babies that come up to you and babble meaninglessly one moment and then trying to bite and nip at you the next.

they are still quite small at this young age though, so one of the main toys they're given is Kcheha variants. they're stuffed animals constructed from fabric, furs, animal glue, clay (or bone), thread, and nontoxic paints- and come as either an upright plush or something large and floppy.

the more upright kind are more for playing with and being dragged around. they're made durable enough to withstand being chewed on by a child, since babies like to investigate and play with things with their mouth where a large portion of their sensory organs (those whiskers they have especially!) are located near. the floppier kcheha variant are larger usually weighted with fine sand or beads. these are softer and made for sleeping with. normally geolings sleep in large piles containing several members of their familial group, but young children are at risk of being injured by an adult rolling on top of them in this situation, so kids either sleep in their own pile nearby or are kept by themselves in a comfy mountain of floppy toys that simulates typical sleeping circumstances. upright kcheha are typically fashioned after bugs, fish, or other animals and floppy kcheha are often made to resemble geolings. the one in the image was designed to look like one of Wyu'hlkee's remaining island giants, a relatively peaceful animal that digs for tubers, shellfish, and large grubs.

eventually when kids reach their teens and lose their baby stripes or just when they get big enough, they get Annu toys. these are filled with sand and constructed with several layers of a plant derived burlap-like fabrics and a twine made from similar stuff, and come in natural shades of light red to deep purple. they are easy to make and survive wear and tear easily, which is good considering how high energy and more aggressive teenagers are. grabbing a sand filled toy and smacking it against walls (fun and satisfying) or trying to hit a sibling or cousin with it as hard as possible is extremely common (and so is the related: hitting your cousin so hard with a toy they start wailing and you beg them not to tell on you).

however since almost all annu are sand based they have some consequences if torn apart or broken. for geolings, sand has some particular spiritual significance in several of their cultures, and there are superstitions or beliefs that when you fill a toy with sand it invites passed on creatures to live in the constructed body. if you destroy it and the sand falls out you're expected to apologize for it and fix it. they are expected to get damaged though and it's good for teaching repair skills and restraint. most of these toys have the marks of being patched up from years of being thrown around and accidentally shredded. most annu are like big sand filled socks. fashioning them into the form of snake and worm creatures is pretty common. the ones depicted here have the popular look of the geolings 'sea dragons' which are giant worm-eel things that live in the oceans. dragons have been and remain as a very cool thing.

lastly for these Glass Based figurines are usually only for special occasions and given as gifts on holidays. those living on the islands and coasts make elaborate displays with them and enjoy collecting them. they're not great toys if they're more elaborate but smaller more blob looking ones are good for playing certain games with.

they have other more complex types of toys but I only drew a few for this because artfight is coming up and time to draw personal stuff is little. o7

#my art #fullview for best looking experience btw since tumblr crop destroyed this #geolings #spec bio #speculative biology #new post of these guys. the ones here are from one of the coastal areas #their baby stripes solidify into thicker darker stripes as adults instead of being lost #also hi sorry to let down everyone who thought they were dragons #they are just guys that I made up. but they are kinda dragon like

[multific]

All He Wanted, A Family

Assassin Predator x Reader

Part 1  Part 2

Summary: You and your mate deal with you baby, who is not always a happy camper.

Your son was now a couple of months old.

Summer soon arrived on the planet as he grew with each passing day.

During the warmer weather, you enjoyed being out more. Of course, with your Mate keeping a close eye on you.

Your tracker dog was always by your side as usual. 

You brought out a fur and placed it under a tree, hiding in the shades, with your son in your lap, you tried to relax.

But your son was a very adventurous little guy.

He was very interested in everything and anything.

It all started when he realized he could crawl. Always chasing your dog around in the house, and now, outside he was even worse. While you brought out the fur so he could stay on it, he always found ways to leave it.

Even with just a blink of an eye, he was gone.

Your husband watched from the house as he sat on the porch, watching you and your son in the shades, looking out for predators and things alike.

He could only chuckle as the little boy crawled around and you followed him, bringing him back each time as he passed the imaginable line which you set.

"Can you watch him? I need to head in for food." you said to your mate as you stood up and he nodded once. He now had made a new translator, a device which was so small he made it into a necklace to be always around you.

You headed inside to bring some food out for yourself.

When you exited the house however, your heartbeat picked up.

"Where is he?" you asked as your husband pointed at the woods. "I told you to watch him!" you said as you rushed over, you heard him following you. 

"I watched him, he went here."

"You let him out of your sight!" you said as you ducked under bushes, trying to find your boy. "Honey?!" you called out his name but no reply. 

You really started to panic now as you walked further into the forest. 

He was a fast baby but he really wandered off so much? In your despair, your anger began to rise, you soon turned to your Mate. "Where is he?!" 

His eyes met yours but he didn't reply.

"Where's my son?!" you yelled at him as tears filled your eyes. "You lost him! He could be dead! I asked you to watch him!" your tears began to fall as the sun began to set, you knew he had no chance of surviving in the middle of the forest at night. Soon, you heard a small yelp then crying, you ran.

There you found your little baby boy with a huge predator eying him with it's teeth. You were quick in action, grabbing a branch and pushing the monster away as you grabbed your son. Your husband finished off the beast. By the time he turned to look at you, you were rushing back into your home with the crying boy in your arms.

You rushed into the bathroom, finding the medicine cabinet and the healing mist.

"It's okay, I got you." you told him as your heart broke with each tear that rolled down his face. You used the mist and watched as the small wound on his arm disappeared.

When his cries stopped, you headed into his room and sat down on the chair, trying to lull him to sleep and you also fed him.

He never once left your arms, not even when he was asleep.

The door hissed open as your eyes met with his yellow ones. 

"I asked you to watch him. He could have died." you said as he took a couple of steps in, the dog followed as it sat down next to your chair.

"Didn't know he was so fast. Didn't watch him close enough. Sorry." you placed a kiss on your son's head as you moved to not look at your husband.

"He could have died." you repeated yourself.

"I'm sorry." you didn't look at him. You were still very angry. "Don't want to lose him or you. Watched for predators, didn't see him being so fast, and thought he was close. I'm sorry."

You could only imagine how hard it was for him to admit his fault and apologise. 

"I won't let it happen again." he tried to assure you as he sat down on the floor. Given his size, he was still bigger than you even sitting on the floor. "You are very protective mother. I thought you overreacted until I saw the thing hurt him."

"Of course I am protective. We tried for so long to have a child, I don't want to lose him." he nodded once, understanding your point. "I love him very much, he is my son after all." another nod from your Mate.

"I love you two as well. Family." he said motioning to the three of you. 

You moved slightly closer to him, putting an arm out he moved so you could put it around his neck, he moved his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. "Don't want to lose family. Sorry." he said.

"I love you too." you said with a whisper.

You two stayed in that position for a while.

Then you moved to place him into his little crib. The dog stayed with him as you two went to your own bedroom.

You never want to experience this feeling again. This fear of losing him.

The next day, you found your son not leaving your side for a moment.

You figured the incident scared him enough to never wander off alone again.

While you didn't want him to lose his interest in the world, you at least appreciated that for the time being he would stick with you.

The next day, you were out again, on the fur, under the tree. Your son never once took a step off of the fur, playing with the dog, your Mate joined you which captured the boy's interest. He moved to his father, climbing up the huge Yautja, you smiled as you watched the two interact.

You giggled a little as the boy reached up at his father, trying to reach his face and he got rather frustrated when he couldn't reach.

He groaned as he clicked his mandibles.

At first, you thought it was only a nose he made but when the translator around your mate's neck spoke. "Father." you looked at him as he looked back at you.

"He is growing up too fast. He is already speaking." you said with a sigh. Your mate pulled you close as he moved to lean against the tree.

This was all he ever wanted, a family.

A healthy and happy son, and you by his side, his happy female.

At that moment he thought, maybe you could have more little ones.

For now, he stayed but as soon as he can return to his lab, he will check if your body can handle another pregnancy.

He wanted to check all scenarios. 

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

Part 1  Part 2

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#yautja #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja imagine #yautja imagines #predator #alien vs predator #Alien Vs Predator Requiem #wolf predator #predator x human #predator x you #predator x reader #predator x fem reader #predator x human reader #predator imagine #predator imagines #x human reader #slasher #slasher short #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #slasher imagines

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 49

part 1 | part 48 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence

It's a totally normal Tuesday the day it all starts going to shit.

Eddie's got a show at The Hideout, and Wayne's got a rare night off, so Steve's at his boyfriend's place without him catching a basketball game with Wayne and Ernie. He did try to go to the show, to be fair; wanted to, but Eddie took one look at the way he was cradling the side of his head and winked at him to "sit this one out, big boy," so here he is: drinking beer with two old men and watching the most frustrating game he's seen all season.

"Oh, what the hell was that?" he begs the tiny screen, jumping out of his seat to pace a tight circle and rake his hands over his scalp hard enough to pluck a few strands. Beside him, Ernie shakes his head and mutters "goddamn disgraceful, that's what" and in the kitchen Wayne munches happily on a fresh plate of nachos, taps his bald head with a half-eaten chip and warns, "Quit tuggin' at your hair 'fore you wind up lookin' like this."

"Whatever, old man." Steve rolls his eyes, but he loosens his grip. Drags his hands down his face instead. "Don't act like you're not loving this."

Wayne laughs, a broad, smug smile that's pure Munson mischief. "Never claimed otherwise," he says, then he pops a cigarette in his mouth and tells them to get their wallets ready.

Bastard. His team's doing fine tonight. (And sure, the bet was only five dollars, but it's a point of pride, damn it.)

Steve turns his attention back to the game, where the ref is making yet another call that's so laughably bad Steve's not sure how he isn't getting decked for it. A stray elbow to the face, at least. Fucking something.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles; still pacing, arms crossed. "If they don't fire this idiot, I swear..."

He turns to Ernie for back up; remembers that Ernie's got a lapful of Misty the cat right now and quickly looks away. Creepy little thing still freaks Steve out (even if Ernie's stroking her fur like she's a harmless stress toy and not the razor-clawed, rat-chomping demon she really is.) He still can't look at her. Gets queasy just thinking about all the "presents" she's left him since he moved in.

Ernie catches the way his shoulders tense. "Didn't think you'd be afraid of a little pussy," he teases, scratching the cat behind her ears.

Misty gives a low rumble of approval.

Steve's stomach flips. "Whatever," he scoffs, looking anywhere but at them. "That thing's bad luck. No wonder we're losing."

He settles back into his seat, and the game goes on — and on, and on, until the score gets so embarrassing that Steve considers just getting up and yanking the TV plug out of the wall, or maybe storming out of the place in protest — and he's about to beg Wayne for mercy, ask him to change the station to anything else, when the front door opens so softly it sets off alarm bells in his head.

Steve whips around at the lack of sound. Knows immediately that something is wrong, because Eddie Munson doesn't do quiet. Eddie Munson comes home like fireworks going off: Crack! Whizz! Bang! He's always a burst of noise and energy; he's a fucking racket; Wayne's said so a million times — muttered it angrily when Eddie's music keeps him up, grumbled it fondly over breakfast while he tries to stop himself from falling asleep face-first in a plate of eggs.

Tonight Eddie comes home quiet as a thief. A mouse trying to evade the clutch of Misty's claws. His head's hung low as he shucks off his boots, his face obscured by frizzy hair.

Steve's across the room in a heartbeat.

"Baby?" he whispers, trying to peak behind the curtain. Eddie won't look at him, but his breathing sounds off; labored and whistling, and his hair is matted with something dark. "You okay?"

"Fine," Eddie croaks.

They both know it's a lie.

Steve lifts a hand to gently tip his chin up, but the moment his fingers graze skin Eddie winces and tugs away. "Okay," he says, pulling his hand back. "Okay, I'm sorry, just— can you look at me? Please?" He softens his voice, tries to coax Eddie out. You're safe here; you can trust me.

When Eddie finally looks up, Steve's heart lodges in his throat.

His face is ruined. Caked in dried blood, the skin below his left eye like an overripe eggplant: deep purple and threatening to split down the middle, to spill rotten juices all over the floor. There's a cut above his brow, another nick between his eyes, and— fuck.

His nose is broken.

Steve's gonna kill someone.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, deadly quiet. Whoever it is, they're not living to the morning. Steve's got a car and a nail bat and a boy with a broken nose, and he's going to kill whoever did this to him. "Eddie." He grips his biceps; shakes him a little. Insists. "Eddie, tell me who did this!"

Eddie hiccups a weak sob. Lips shiny with blood and tears, and Steve lets go; feels horrible for making it worse, for letting his anger get the best of him. He wraps Eddie up a gentle hug, cradles him against his chest and doesn't care if Ernie sees. He doesn't give a damn.

"Fucking—" Eddie grunts against Steve's shirt, his teeth chattering around the word. His throat clicks when he swallows. Sticky with blood and phlegm.

Hospital, Steve thinks. Blood loss; sepsis; shock.

Eddie gulps a ragged breath and tries again. "Fucking assholes," he gets out, "they took our- t-took our—" The words cut off with a pained whimper, and he breaks down and just cries. Cries and cries until the heaving subsides, until it lessens to muted trembling in Steve's arms. There's fresh blood on his shirt.

Eddie's blood is on his shirt.

He looks up, eyes wet and wide, and then Wayne's there; two strong, weathered hands firm on Eddie's shaking shoulders. "Is it bad?" he asks Steve. No nonsense; demanding answers. Decorated veteran.

Steve nods without a word.

"C'mon, kid," Wayne soothes. "Let's get you cleaned up."

—

part 50

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #my writing #my fic

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yeowoosan x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse words -> 1.1K

I’ve never considered owning hybrids. 

I've always thought that they deserved to be free, and treated like people. Unfortunately in this state of politics it won't happen anytime soon.

Even then, the three hybrids who now live with me, almost seem like they wouldn’t operate on their own.

San… my pretty panther.

He's always been bad at leaving the apartment. When he does, he wears headphones. One's specialized for hybrids to cancel out noise. He can’t handle crowded places, sounds of screams happiness, or fear, or simple everyday noises like bells. You never notice how common it is until you have a hybrid flinch and grip you so hard it causes skin and clothes to rip. 

He’s exotic… and pretty but so so damaged. 

He’s never wanted to sit down and talk to me about what it was like nor do I ever expect him to. He wants to forget… he’s cried out how he wishes he could forget.

If only I could grant that wish to him. On his month anniversary, – when it was only me and Wooyoung by his side – he asked if we could go to the park. 

He loves watching TV. He also finds the sappy movies where you go to scenic places and just… soak it in. San couldn’t do that. That day a kid approached us and asked to touch San, but he wasn’t good with touch either. He flinches… so Wooyoung distracted the kid after they pull San’s tail. Innocent curiosity… kids don’t understand what no means when they are so young. 

After that day he locked himself in his room. 

He hates the outside world. Filled with cruel people and reminders of his past. 

It's a miracle he trusts me as much as he does. I once wanted to take him to a restaurant… but the door had a bell chime. It made him freeze until I commanded him and we went home. 

He will wait for a command and it's necessary to snap him out of it. 

Kun wanted him to continue therapy but he’s still not used to it. Shortly maybe? Whether that's in a year or two or maybe never. 

Despite how damaged he is, he’s truly an amazing person. He’s sensitive and caring… he’s beautiful. 

He cares so much about me, about Wooyoung, even the newest addition of Yeosang.

He always makes sure I'm not overworking with my book when I lose track of the hours. Whilst he makes sure to reassure Wooyoung with praises and sweet nothings everyday. Even Yeosang, he helps him with his traumas… assures him that he has them and that he isn't alone. 

Sannie, my first hybrid and I'd do everything to have him in my life – to be in his heart all over again.

“May this be the first life of many I live with you, you’re my reason to continue living”

Wooyoung… a sweet hyperactive fox.

He could go on for hours and hours doing any activity as long as he was having fun or with any three of us who joined him. 

He isn’t good at leaving the apartment either.

As much as he denies it he's still scared of me abandoning him one day. So when he does go out with me he's always glued to my side. Holding my hand or simply looping our arms.

He also feels the need to “make himself useful” since his previous owners had him do chores and cook for them since they were expecting a baby and were busy. 

His stress also gets him which is obvious because of how clingy he becomes and even picks at his own fur. His mind was constantly working and overthinking and I had to get used to praising him and reassuring him how much I loved him. 

It wasn’t hard but it hurt to know he needed constant reassurance to understand he’s loved by not only me but also to make sure he isn't a burden to San or Yeosang. 

He has a very bad mental health… one which will make him experience very long or even very short depressive episodes. 

In those days I spend most of my time in his room trying to offer him comfort. Sometimes we stay in silence or we’ll talk about nothing important for hours until we sleep in each other's arms. 

I owed Wooyoung a lot… he was there for me when I was in school and when my parents weren’t necessarily present in my life. He was there… he was always there and it's the least I could do for him. 

I’d be by his side for as long as he wants me. 

“I’ve loved you like it was love at first sight! My dream became a reality and I'm not ready to ever wake up”

Yeosang… my protective doberman.

I always found it interesting how my friends thought that San was the most protective and even though he is, San was a sweetheart. While Yeosang was intimidating. He hates the socialite life… in return doesn’t trust my friends. He also hates leaving the apartment, claiming it's his safe haven and always with his silly little nickname… angel. 

Claiming that's what I was… someone who saved him from his life in hell. Brought him back up, made him smile, and forgave him for his sins. He hates being reminded of his past… it's known that I had him and people will sometimes send me emails and texts to ask him for photoshoots. 

He, however, wanted to live a life of peace away from the media and the sins that others committed. 

He hates the attention, the photos, the videos, the whispers, and the gossip when he does come out with me. He’s a dog hybrid… he has good sight, good hearing… and good smell. He could tell when they gossiped about his prostitution background and even said horrid things. Not like he’d ever tell me what they said since… he didn’t want to make me sad or angry. He endured a lot… but he didn’t have to do it alone anymore. She was gone… and she’s never had a chance to get close to him again. 

If he saw me as his guardian angel, I’d act like it. I’d protect him with my life. 

“Why would I ever leave when I’m in paradise? Out there is hell, in here I have an angel looking over me” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[christinesficrecs]

Happy Saturday! Enjoy these brilliant fics. 🩷

I don’t know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 17.8K

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

His Only Defense by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 78.7K

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha.

Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Laying Groundwork by  LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there’s this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it’s the latter.

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The one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he’s about to find out he’s very, very wrong.

Shot Through The Heart by  LunaCanisLupus_22 | 64.8K

The one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn’t go as planned.

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 23.1K

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

Oh baby give me one more chance (to show you that I love you) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 54.7K

“You like Derek,” he says slowly. “Derek Hale.”

His father grimaces at the accusation there. “Look, Stiles it’s complicated-“

“So when I was married to him,” he continues, voice rising. “He wasn’t good enough. He was taking advantage of me. ‘He’ll never be able to love you like you want, Stiles’. That’s what you said-“

Or the Sweet Home Alabama AU that nobody asked for.

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11.4K

“All in favour of Derek not dating for a full year so he can get his shit together and stop romancing people who want to kill us?”

Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member.

Or the one where the pack insists Derek can't date anybody for a year but he ends up finding romance much closer to home anyway.

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 135.5K

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 87.5K | Abandoned

“Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

I'll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

How long have I been on the hunt for you? by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 20.3K

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lunacanislupus22 #author appreciation

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 7 (Stuck in a Wall)

Kink: Stuck in a Wall

Pairing: Male!Satyr x GN!Reader

Other Kinks: Creampie

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1098 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“Well, ain’t this funny?”

“Yes, I am aware of the apparent comedy of this situation.” You deadpan, rolling your eyes even though Georgios can’t see you. “Could you help?”

“I dunno.” Georgios drawls, the sexy southern accent of his sounding especially snarky at the moment. “Seems awful inappropriate, me grabbing ya by the hips and such.” You hear a thunk, presumably Georgios leaning up against the other side of the wall you are currently stuck in. “Ain’t you the one he said we shouldn’t be fraternizing so much at work?”

“Considering I am currently stuck halfway through the barn window, I think an exception can be made here.” You knew telling Georgios, that horn dog, that you couldn’t fuck in the hay whenever you fell like would come to bite you in the butt. It's not that you didn’t want to, but considering how many “breaks” you guys had been taking these past few weeks, your daily productivity had gone way down.

Georgios, in rebellion of your suggestion, had gone out of his way not to touch you these past couple days. It's what had made you so cantankerous, what had made you distracted, and what made you accidentally knock off the lock keeping the slide open as you leaned in to get something through the window.

“If you say so. But I better not hear about how I distracted you from your chores.”

“Me being stuck seems to be the most distracting thing at the moment. Now, just pull up-”

You gasp as Georgios yanks at the gem of your jeans, revealing the top of your underwear

“Georgios!”

“What?” He asks, voice reeking of mischief. “I’m trying to help, not my fault you ain’t wearing a belt.” Georgios yanks again, not even trying to actually grab your hips, and your pants fly down, revealing your tight underwear. You hear a muttered “Damn, what an ass.” Through the window pane.

“That's clearly not helping.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about. It seems you’re a whole lot looser than before.” A calloused, working man's hand prods at your hole, making you jerk. “In more ways than one.”

You shamefully admit that the past few days of no sex has made your body extra sensitive, Georgios thumb enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your abdomen tightens, craving something to fill it.

Trying to fight your wandering mind, you don’t even feel Georgios trying to pull at the hems of your underwear until he does, cold air brushing against your ass. You want to yell at him, tell him to get his mind out the gutter and watch himself, but all you get is a breathy moan as Georgios slips two fingers into your sensitive entrance. So smooth too, almost like-

You hear the squirt of a bottle.

Did that rat bastard bring lube with him?

You curse, wondering if maybe that thing you needed, so tantalizingly set in front of the busted window, was just ‘misplaced’ afterall.

But your snark is cut off by more moans, Georgios scissoring his fingers in and out of you. Thighs clenching, knees beginning to shake, dammit, it feels good.

“See? This is nice.” Georgios purrs, drawl purring deeper and deeper. “Why we gotta fight it so hard anyway? It’s our farm after all.”

“Yeah, but-” Breath catches in your throat, the familiar head of Georgios cock pressing against your tight hole. The fur of goat legs brush against the back of your thighs, goosebumps running up your thighs. “Oooh.” You pant, like a dog in heat.

Even through the window you know Georgios smirking, always knowing how to push your buttons. Damn Satyrs and their irresistible charm.

“That’s right, sugar, just relax.” Gerogios rubs his calloused hand along your backside, delighted in the way you squeak when he hits it. “Lemme treat my baby right.”

Losing all pretense to fight it, you let your body sink into the pleasure. You don’t bite back your moans as Georgios sinks into you, letting the pleasant burning stretch ripple through your hips. His moan is kore guttural, probably tossing his head back as he finally sinks into you, balls deep.

These 3 days have been the longest you’ve gone without having sex, and Georgios is starving.

His ball slap against your underside as he fucks you, too horny to slowly undo you like he usually does, setting a hard and heavy pace. You can't complain, not with the way it stirs something deep in your huts, hitting the right spots inside of you.

“Georgios!” You keen, voice high and whiny. The position you're stuck in means you can’t throw your hips backwards as you usually do, left at the mercy of your husband to set the pace.

Georgios is kind, thankfully, using your hips like handles to yank on to his dick. The slick sounds of lube and precum ring out as his pelvis knocks against your ass cheeks, his fur getting damp with your juices.

“Fuck, baby, how am I supposed to resist this?” Georigos slaps your ass, having you squeal like a pig. “Walking around in these jeans, all hot and sweaty, not being able to touch ya’.” Georgios thrusts extra hard, swiveling his hips to press up against the deepest part of you. “It’s downright cruel.”

He makes a compelling point. Why did you even suggest such a rule?

You’re left with no proper arguments against him as the tingly sensation spreads down to your toad, that delicious high coming nearer and nearer. The hot and stuffy barn interior has sweat dripping down the side of your face, tongue lolled out like a proper cum-dump.

“That's it, baby. Cum for daddy.” Georgios purrs, slapping your ass against his hips starts to get more frantic. “I’ll give you a treat if you do, fill you up for being so good.”

Your thighs close together, knees beginning to tremble as that buzzing moves up your chest, all the way to your face. Your head feels stuffed with cotton, so close, so close-

“Aah!”

“Oooh shit.” Georgios stutters as you spasm around him. He’s able to ride out a couple more thrusts before shooting deep inside you, a heavy load from 3 days of blue balls.

You hear a thud against the window pane, just able to contort enough to see Georgios head resting against the window, dick softening inside you. Drips of cum leak out of you, making even more of a mess.

Whelp, guess you’d have to accept your new rule as a lost cause. Gods know you could never give up this.

#my writing #reader insert #gender neutral reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #satyrs #monster romance

[ashwhowrites]

A tiny little blurb that went through my head because everyone keeps talking to me about Dom Eddie......

He'd be a perv, nasty, mean, and such a tease. Huge daddy kink and I'd picture him with a shy and innocent girl. Total pink bedroom with stuffed animals.....

"and this one is for when I sleep. That's all of them!" She explained with a smile

Eddie's brown eyes looking at each stuffed animal, now knowing the names of every single one. He already knew what question he was going to ask, that's the only reason why he sat through the list. He wanted to see her squirm and bite her lip in nerves

"daddy's got a question baby" he said, a teasing smirk already on his lips

"yes?" She nodded, a small smile on her face

"which one do you tuck underneath yourself and rub that pretty pussy on?"

He loved the way her eyes went huge and she looked away fast. Her teeth already eating at her lip

"what? No...none" her voice shook as she played with the bear in her hands

Eddie smirked as she grew more nervous, moving himself closer. Forcing her to smell him and feel his warmth just inches away

"now pretty girl. Why lie? I know for a fact one of these stuffed animals has your cum all over it, so tell daddy which one it is" his voice deep as he got his face very close to hers. Taking the small bear out of her lap

"I don't..." She trialed off, still refusing to make eye contact with him

Her thighs clenched when she heard him growl, his hand roughly grabbing her jaw, forcing her to look in his direction

"what happens when bad girls refuse to listen? What does daddy do to them?"

She tried to keep the whimper in her throat

"he..he punishes them" she squeaked out

Her eyes were already glossy with tears and filled with lust

Eddie smirked once he saw the first tear drop

Her hand slowly reached for another bear, pushing it against Eddie's hard cock as she continued to look in his eyes

Once he felt the soft stuffed animal against his jeans he looked down. Smirking even bigger when she passed over the bear. The exact one he got her on their first date

"you hump the bear daddy got you? Like to pretend it's him?" He teased

"stop it" she whined, trying to get her jaw out of his grasp but he refused

"whine and beg for him too? I bet you hump it so hard you lose your breath. Does your bed bang into the wall? Do you shake as you cum? Do you cum right here on the nose?" He mocked, his tongue licking the small black nose on the animal. Then Inhaling the bear's fur

She could feel her embarrassment deep in her bones but also felt how wet her underwear has become

"yes daddy" she whimpered. Everything he said was true, she hated how well he knew her

"how many times do you rub your pussy on it?" His eyes questioning her and he glared

"not a lot" she lied, praying he didn't catch on the way her voice shook

"lying again? Because I think the second you feel the tiniest drop of wetness in your underwear, you strip down and you hump this bear. Because I know how much of a little horny slut my girl becomes" his teasing made her more and more hot

"okay fine! Yes I do" she snapped

It wasn't like he didn't sit at home and masterbate all the time. Why did he have to tease her so bad?

Eddie smirked at the answer, throwing down the bear as he stood up. Easily removing his shirt, jeans and boxers.

Sitting himself back on her bed, head against the headboard

She eyed his naked body with need and want. Mouth already watering and preparing to beg

"you wanna hump your bear? Daddy's going to too, see what it's all about" he mocked, grabbing the bear and slowly rubbing it on his cock

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #dom eddie munson x sub reader #dom eddie munson x reader #dom eddie munson #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie munson smut #perv!eddie #innocent reader! x perv! Eddie

[stuffeddeer]

y!dazai buying plushies and clothes for you :) but since he’s a massive douchebag he ended making you cry about it (probably didn’t feel bad either bleh)

he feels like he need to coddle you every single minute of the day or else he’ll go batshit crazy

anon i thought this said MAKING clothes for u i was about to cheer imagine dazai with his precise and nimble fingers hand sewing clothing for himself during the two years he spent underground, patching holes in his jacket and such ouughhh.. his darling gifts him a sewing machine after seeing his dodgy sewing set up utilizing a single bent needle and a lot of patience that he doesn’t normally have… ARE YOU ALL SEEING THIS TOO…… tbh tho he’d prick himself one (1) time with the needle and never pick one up again he’s such a baby or he’d swallow one

Kidnapper!Dazai who drones on and on about how hard he works to provide for the two of you, the least you can do is cuddle the plushies he got you if not him. That’s money that could have gone towards the betterment of your forcibly shared apartment, rather than some childish plushies just to keep you placated. Stop crying, that’s why he got them for you, remember?

wait hold on

He tries and be all sweet and doting, dropping the plush on top of some cozy pajamas he’d purchased for you that day. With a delusional smile he’d pull you into a hug, tugging at the hem of your pants claiming he wants a fashion show. At least the pajamas are modest — long pant legs and sleeves that at least cover your shoulders. The worst offender has a low neckline, but he’s sure you’ll appreciate that he didn’t go for anything too crazy. You’ll gently push him away, picking up the stuffed plush from the thick paper bags instead: It looks just like the one you had as a child. Dazai knows this, of course, like he knows everything else about you. He sits back with a smug grin, watching as you gently push it from one hand to the other.

The difference between this plush and the one sitting in storage at your parents’ home is the life brought into it: fur that is no longer matted from love and eyes that aren’t scuffed and scraped from kicking it off your bed at night… Wow, you missed those days. You missed your mom. A frown crosses your face as you turn towards your shared bedroom, deciding to spend sometime on your own. Before you can enact these plans, however, Dazai plucks the stuffie from your gentle grip, holding him high above your head. Your eyes widen and your face immediately drops. Hadn’t he already taken so much from you? Tears begin falling before you can even register it, too caught up in the sudden fear that you’d lose another part of yourself. Your parents, your friends, your life before this: it was all imprinted onto that stupid stuffed toy Dazai had gotten as an afterthought.

Yet, he continued to dangle it over your head. “You’ll get this little fella back when you answer me. Don’t you wanna make me as happy as I’ve made you?”

Happy? You couldn’t help but feel sick. With how long you’ve been in Dazai’s home, you knew expressing that wouldn’t get you the plushie back. The sleeve of your current outfit helps to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “Fa-fashion show, right? Okay, okay,” you mutter while dropping to your knees, digging through the bag of clothing for the first set.

This is not your prompt but Dazai who bought a cam stuffie. Unbeknownst to you, the eye of the cute little teddy your dear friend gifted you fed video straight to his laptop at all hours of the day. He spends his nights watching you sleep peacefully; the rise and fall of your chest soothing him and giving him something to focus on other than the negative thoughts on his mind. Something about the way you’d pat the little bear on the head every morning had him swooning, as though you were doing the action to him. Weirdly enough, you always seemed to turn the little teddy away before changing… Oh well — Dazai would have plenty of time to see everything he wants to once you’re finally together: something he envisions happening soon.

this is not proofread bc i have soo much due rn... classes are kicking my ass!!! hope you like it anon :)

#do yall spell it stuffY or stuffIE... #stuffed plush. little guy. #🦌anon #🦌request #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfic #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai osamu x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Being Poly w/ Stray Kids {Summer Vacation D1} ♡

♡ I got a request for some poly fluff where you get to see how your boyfriends take care of you. I figured there's no better time than your first summer vacation together to experience it ♡

♡ Reader is a chubby babe ♡

♡ Felix ♡

the one you wake up to because he's been cuddling you all night, only really moving to go to the bathroom

has the morning voice of a demon but is a total angel, giving you kisses while asking about your dreams/how you slept

comes with you to do your morning skin routines together, cracking jokes to make you smile when you start feeling grumpy about being up so early

stays behind to straighten up the bathroom because he has to make sure his love eats breakfast before she starts the day

♡ Bang Chan ♡

fell asleep 2 hours ago but set his alarm to wake up and make you all of your favorite breakfast foods from back home

has a list of things to do/sights to see during this trip that he thought you might like. it took him weeks to put it together but you're worth the effort

set the room he's sharing with bini up just the way you like it so that you can come sleep with them tonight

massages your legs while you eat your food because being curled up in a cuddle ball for eight hours has left you a little tight

♡ Changbin ♡

picks out a pair of comfy clothes for you to wear and helps put your hair up into a cute, albeit messy, ponytail♡ changbin salon ♡

fills his backpack with ice water and whatever you want so you have everything you need for the run along the beach he's taking you on

puts aside his typically strict approach to fitness to turn the "run" into a playful game of tag that finally wakes you up for the day

gives you a piggyback ride when you get tired and pauses every time you hint that you see something you might be interested in

♡ Hyunjin♡

has the shower running for you when you get back to the house. he joins you if you'd like him to or hangs around outside talking about the most random things with you

already picked out an outfit for you to wear today so that the two of you match and encourages you to take your time with makeup

brings you with him to browse through cute shops on the boardwalk, buying you little souvenirs to take home

convinces you to pose for pictures for him and surprises you with them in a scrapbook down the line

♡ Lee Know ♡

steals you away to take you on a car ride to a super secret destination. also maintains his self control when Han and I.N insist on coming

said secret destination ends up being the kitty cafe you've been talking about every day since it popped up in your Insta feed

spends a good amount of money renting out a private room where you can stay as long as you want. you even get to name a cat

comforts you when you get a little teary eyed because you don't want to leave those sweet babies behind

♡ Han ♡

sees an arcade and immediately thinks it's the perfect thing to take your mind off of the fact that you, unfortunately, can't have 30 fur babies

goes super hard at every game he plays to make sure he wins enough tickets to get you the plushie that you want

distracts the other two completely and totally on accident when you're playing against them so that you never lose

keeps asking if you need anything/if everything's okay when the arcade starts to fill up more since he wants you to be comfortable

♡ I.N ♡

rides in the backseat with you, controlling the aux to shuffle through the playlist he made for you

has zero hesitation when it comes to singing along to songs with you, screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs. he loves a good duet

rolls the windows down so that you can feel the ocean air and fixes your hair when the wind blows it all over

lets you take a nap on him if you get a little sleepy, quietly nagging Lino not to hit any bumps or make any sharp turns because he wants you to sleep peacefully

♡ Seungmin ♡

builds a fort out of pillows and blankets for the two of you to hide out in while the others bicker about what to do for the rest of the day

has you bring your plushie/souvenirs with you into said adorable fort because he wants to hear every little detail about your day so far

goes outside to get the grill started for dinner, knowing that the collective fear of him burning the place down will bring the other guys together

keeps you on his lap even when the others whine about it, sheilding you from the chaos of a stray kids dinner even if it means occasionally becoming the chaos himself

#stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #poly stray kids #chubby reader #plus size reader

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 8

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself”

A/N: This chapter has taken me weeks to write, but I am so happy with the final results. This is another doozy, so tread carefully. Thank you for your endless support and love. 🤍

~word count: 7.0k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel tells you what happened to him and Ellie before they returned to Jackson.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, trauma, mentions of death, child loss, grief, fluff, flirting, another almost kissing situation, lots of flashbacks, mentions of a miscarriage, mild alcohol consumption, Joel gets a little shy, hurt, comfort, protective! Joel, Joel whump, mentions of alcohol consumption, self deprecating thoughts/actions, anger, frustration, alluding to past traumas, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, reader's nickname is beanie (coffee beans) +18, minors dni! heed the warnings please this is a very very heavy chapter.

main masterlist masterlist

Angie was a real sweetheart. A country classic that you’d want to play over and over again. Toffee butter sweet with pure southern charm. She was one of the kitchen staff ladies working in the mess hall. She loved to cook. She prepared food straight from her soul that warmed the hearts, and kept all the bellies full in Jackson. Her bubbly spirit was a decoy to mask her ceaseless grief that weighed heavy on her mangled heartstrings that were poorly sewn back together with a dull needle and thread. She recently went through a misscarriage. The brutal endless cycle of life in all its beauty and cruelty swinging like a pendulum. Angie was forever grateful when you and Joel appeared on her doorstep with Honey the fawn tucked protectively in your arms.

“She miscarried last fall. Right before the leaves started turnin.’” He whispered softly to you as he reached up and thrummed his knuckles against the chipped paint on the wooden doorframe.

Angie struggled to let go of her loss. She held onto the hand-me down infant clothes. The baby booties, swaddling cloths and the bottles. Grief causes even the strongest people to break as the world as they know it shatters around them. They try to claw and grasp what little remains of that person, whether they existed in the world yet did not matter. Angie took one look at that innocence bundled in your arms and she immediately darted off to the kitchen. She returned moments later with a swaddling cloth and baby bottle that showed the faint remnants of little hearts and flowers. The decals were peeling upwards like a bandaid, but it was a small token of kindness that this poor woman had to offer for the cost of nothing.

Joel thanked her with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. Tender hands that could bruise, tender hands that could heal.

Angie only could nod as she quickly wiped away her dewy tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped down the curve of her chin. Her eyes were glassy, her lower lip trembled under the soft blooming glow of the porchlight overhead. She reached one quivering hand out to gently stroke the soft fur on Honey’s head.

A moment of silence followed by the swishing sound of the front door slamming shut.

Oh, Angie. You deserved so much better than the cards you were dealt.

The walk back to Joel’s home was one in deafening silence. He kicked a stray rock along the ground with the toe of his boot as his arms hung at his slides. He appeared to be deep in thought as you tried to meet his gaze. He was as hard as a stone with furrowed brows. Grief was so prominent, even in a town that was built around ‘peace.’ Grief was there in every corner. Every crack and crevice down to a grain of rice. Even in a garden of Eden, grief sprouted from the stems.

“She likes you.” He murmured gently as he pushed open his front door with a soft huff through his chapped lips. “Honey.” He added.

“I hope she survives the night.” Was the first thought that popped up into your mind as you met his thoughtful gaze.

“She will. She’s n’good hands with you’n me.” He reassured you as his hand came to gently rest along your lower back as he nudged you tenderly inside as the front door softly swung shut behind you.

Honey had curiously peeked her head up from the safety of your flannel to observe her new surroundings as you slowly walked towards the well loved couch in the living area. Your knees cracked noticeably as you sank down onto the cushion.

“Y’want anythin’ to eat or drink while I warm some milk up for our little one?” Joel asked you as he padded towards the kitchen. Seconds later you heard the soft squeak of the refrigerator door opening as you sunk further into the plush cushions.

“Oh, that’s alright. Thank you for asking.”

“Not a problem, darlin.’” He hummed soothingly under his breath as he turned the burner on the stove. Once the milk was adequately warm, but not too hot, he poured it into the baby bottle. It was hard for a wave of nostalgia to not pass through him as he slowly blinked.

“S’matter baby girl? Y’want your baba? S’okay, daddy’s gonna get it for ya.” a considerably younger Joel spoke to baby Sarah in her crib. On the nights she couldn’t sleep, he’d fix her a warm bottle of milk and rock her to sleep on the old rocking chair that he and Tommy built with their bare hands. He’d sing lullabies in her ear and kiss her little head of soft curls.

Fuck.

He stared down at the baby bottle that was nearly engulfed by the sheer mass of his hand as his thumb slowly brushed across one of the peeling faded floral decals.

Fuck.

Keep it together, Joel.

Be still, my foolish heart. Be still.

Please.

God, please.

I’m good.

I’m fine.

Really, I’m okay.

God, she was so tiny.

Used to nearly fit in the palm of my hand.

Remember when she would cry and cry and cry?

Only person that could calm her down was you.

“Joel?” Your voice sounded so far from his reach as if he was across the ocean desperately trying to hone in the almost sweet music of your voice. Not here, not now. Please. He couldn’t shake the feeling of crisp trepidation as he slowly sunk down to his knees in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Breathe.

Breathe.

In and out.

Through your nose, out through your mouth.

Y’can do it.

She was so tiny. So pure. She was my babygirl.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to wail and throw his fists up towards the heavens but instead he sat in stoic silence as his ears rang like a mocking symphony that had him cowering from the harsh reality that he was presently facing.

“Joel?..” There you were again, but closer. Much closer as you went to investigate. The sight that laid before you took your breath away in a morbid fashion. Joel Miller on his knees looking like a man that had the weight of the world constantly pushing down on his aching shoulders. He was vulnerable in this state. He looked ten times smaller with his chin tightly tucked into his collarbone as if he was trying to appear as small as physically possible.

Your heart split in two to see him in this state as you slowly sank down to your knees in front of him. Grief was indescribable. It gnawed at a person with jagged teeth and sharp claws. A constant reminder that what you once held in your grasp, was no longer attainable. It was ripped from the roots, dry and brittle as precious life is stolen so swiftly.

His lips moved as he struggled to speak. To say anything, but nothing. No words could be formed as he stared down at the bottle in his hand. The slightest flinch from your unsuspecting touch upon his cheekbones as the palms of your hands gently caressed his face. “You okay?..” You asked in a hushed tone, keeping the octave of your voice level and gentle.

“No.” He murmured in defeat as his freehand slowly traveled up the length of your arm before resting along your cheek with the utmost delicate care.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You wanted to give him that choice. The open space to speak his feelings only if he chose to.

“Dunno. I jus’ needed to sit down.” He confirmed with a soft wheeze as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“That’s okay, Joel. Sitting is good. It’s alright to rest. I’m right here.” You were, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“She was jus’ so tiny. Tiniest lil bean. With the cutest toes. A button nose. Used to have to give her a bottle at night when she couldn’t sleep. Would sit with her in the rockin’ chair for hours, singin’ her lullabies.” He croaked out as his chin slowly lifted as his dull faded eyes met yours.

You knew he was speaking of Sarah, and you also recognized his silent desperation for comfort. The baby bottle clutched in his trembling hand was the root cause for his current episode. Loss was so difficult to rationally explain sometimes. It was something that couldn’t be journalized as being the same for every person, because every single human being reacted in a different way. Loss was universal, and inevitable, but dealing with the grief that followed was structurally diverse in its nature.

“She was one lucky baby, getting to have you as her father. She loves you so much, Joel. She’s right here.” You slowly dropped one of your hands down from his face and gently rested it against the left side of his chest, right where his heart lay. “She’s always going to be right here.”

“Jus’ miss her so much. S’been creepin’ up on me lately. Feel like I’m seein��� her everywhere.” He felt discouraged as he slowly shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Thank you for being here with me. You don’t understand how much that means to me. To have..someone jus’ understand me.”

“I know how much you miss her, Joel. It’s better to let yourself feel everything instead of bottling it all up. I know how much it means to you. I’ll always be here to listen, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Hope to have you till the end of my days.

“Should–should probably give this to Honey before it gets too cold..” He trailed off as his thumb gently brushed across your cheekbone.

“Do you want to give it to her?..I bet she’d love it if you did. After all, you are the one who saved her.” You offered purely to encourage him only if he desired to.

“I’d love that. Help me up? Knees are feelin’ a little stiff.”

“Mine too.” You murmured as you slowly stood up and offered him your hand.

A ghost of a smile crossed over his features as he grasped your hand in his and pulled himself up from the floor.

He followed you into the living room where Honey was curled up in a fluffy little ball on the end of the couch. Her head perked up when she could smell the milk in the bottle as she struggled to stand on wobbly legs. Joel was right there to aid her as he gently scooped her up under his arm. Her fluffy little white tail wagged excitedly as she let out soft little bleating noises that sounded more like squeaks if anything.

“S’alright, baby. Got your bottle right here f’ya. Daddy’s got it for ya.” He softly cooed to the tiny creature.

You swore you saw a silent tear trail down his weathered cheek when Honey began to nurse from the baby bottle all the while he was gently petting down her tawny colored ears, and humming under his breath soothingly.

When Honey had consumed every last drop from the bottle she curled up right against Joel’s chest. She felt safe in the presence of you and Joel, which was quite obvious from the way she made herself right at home. Joel was careful to not disturb the sleeping creature as he reached his arm over and set the now empty bottle onto the nearby coffee table. The two of you fell into a comfortable relaxed silence, until the rumbling of Joel’s stomach interrupted it. The last meal he had was around breakfast time, and there wasn’t much substance to it. A cup of coffee, slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, and toast with butter. His appetite had been long forgotten since he and Tommy had stumbled upon the gruesome scene of the deceased doe while on patrol. Time seemingly had gone by in a whirlwind, and judging by the late evening light, it was far past dinnertime.

He shifted uncomfortably when his stomach rumbled again. This time it caught your attention from where you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch. You were currently reading one of Joel’s many coffee table books. Exploring Space, Dinosaur facts, The American Mustang, Woodworking for Dummies. You had chosen The American Mustang, and as soon as you heard his stomach grumble for the 5th time, you gently closed the book with your finger holding the page down before you looked over at him.

“Did you eat today, Joel?”

“Jus’ a bite of breakfast this mornin.’ Coffee, toast, and slightly rubbery eggs. Had the pan on a bit too high.” He softly responded as he lifted his chin slightly in your direction.

“I didn’t have much to eat today either. I could make us something?”

“Darlin,’ you ain’t gotta do that. You’re my guest after all. It wouldn’t be right if I just let ya cook f’me.” He was already attempting to gently lift Honey from her curled up position on his chest when you reached your hand out and gently grasped his forearm.

“Joel, it’s okay. I really don’t mind at all. We both should eat something.” You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze before you pushed yourself up from the couch.

His eyes slowly followed your movements into the kitchen as he let out a deep sigh. “Y’know, it’s times like these where I wish that takeout still existed. What I wouldn’t do for a pizza right now.” He mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dominos, or Papa Johns? You better answer wisely, Miller.” You peeked your head around the corner with a playful smile playing on your lips.

“S’that even a question? Papa Johns. I’d order extra of those goddamn garlic sauces because the amount they gave you was truly never enough. I wish they would have started selling it in tubs or somethin.’” He stifled a chuckle. “Dominos was a last minute resort that I regretted every goddamn time.”

“That garlic dipping sauce was to die for. There was also that really good family owned pizza place on Main Street. Napoli Per Tutti I think is what it was called? They had the best Neapolitan pizza that I ever had the pleasure of trying.” You chatted casually as you opened his fridge.

“Darlin,’ you’re killin’ me over here with all this pizza talk. I actually never tried that place before. Sarah mentioned it a few times, but we Millers like to stick to our roots.” He chimed in as he managed to very carefully, and very gently, move Honey off of his chest and onto the couch where he then proceeded to cocoon her in a blanket that was draped across the armrest of the couch.

“I don’t know the first thing about making a Neapolitan pizza, but I can certainly try? That’s assuming that you have all the basic ingredients of course.” You could hear the wooden floorboards creak under the weight of his feet as you slowly turned around with your arms across your chest. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

He sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Can’t stay away when there’s pizza involved, darlin.’”

“Fair enough. All we’ll need for the dough is flour, yeast, water, salt, and I think olive oil?”

“Well, we definitely have flour..water and salt. Olive oil maybe, but does it expire? I haven’t done much cookin’ around here lately so I really don’t know what I've got in the cupboards.” He stepped around you with his arm just barely grazing yours as he opened up one of the many cupboards in the kitchen. “I’ll be damned. Guess we do have yeast and olive oil jus’ layin’ around here.” He reached for the packet of yeast and the bottle of olive oil before setting them down on the counter.

There was something oddly comforting for the two of you to be putzing around the kitchen like an old married couple. You fit right into Joel’s domestic budding life without even grasping the idea of it just yet. You worked together at making the dough, but once it came down to the kneading part, you let Joel take over. Maybe it was your cheeky plan all along to see his hands at work, or perhaps it was totally innocent. Regardless, it was hard to not let your wandering eyes drift across his exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel revealing strong, veiny forearms. Some areas of his skin were littered in scars, and indentations from years of survival, but his hands were the main part of the show. Strong, weathered, yet gentle as he didn’t want to knead the dough too much. The tendons in his fingers flexed as his eyes drifted upwards towards you.

Gotcha.

“Like what ya see?” He rasped with a teasing grin.

Fuck, were you really staring that long?

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as a nervous laugh bubbled up your throat. You struggled to find your words. “Joel, i’m so sorry I shouldn’t–”

“Hey, Beanie? S’alright. You can stare for as long, and as much as you’d like.” He reassured you with a slight nod of his head.

So, this is where you flirt back.

OH!

Right.

“You just..have really attractive hands.” You murmured softly.

Joel cocked a brow at your answer as he looked over at you. “My..hands? What about ‘em are attractive?” He held the same genuine curiosity like the time you had complimented his eyes.

“Well they’re just..strong looking? Maybe that’s not the right verbiage that I'm going for here.” You trailed off.

“S’you don’t mind that they’re a lil rough lookin'?’ Take this hand for example, I’m pretty sure it never really properly healed after I beat the livin’ daylights outta a FEDRA soldier shortly after Tess and I agreed to take Ellie to the fireflies. Sometimes I’ll get like these ghost pains n’my knuckles is what I like to call ‘em.” He shrugged as he grabbed a towel to wipe the flour off from his hands.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I’d honestly be surprised if your hands weren’t at least a little bit damaged. Y’know? I get what you mean with the ghost pains. I get them too, but usually in my wrists and ankles. It’s almost like a tingling sensation.”

Joel felt his heart slowly sink to the pit of his stomach like the sun gradually dipping behind the horizon. It was easy for him to draw the conclusion as to why you’d feel these sensations in your wrists and ankles. There were visible scar indentations along the inside of your wrists. Based on the scarred tissue, it was probably due to them being bound together by zip ties, rope, or possibly even chains. He felt a shiver roll down his spine when he remembered the charred women in the forest having their wrists and ankles bound together by chains.

“Well, I think your hands are beautiful too, Beanie.” He murmured.

I think you're more beautiful than the stars, sun, and moon combined.

You smiled at him. That same soft smile that sent his heart beat skipping every time he was graced by the simple beauty of it. It was as if there was a magnetic force between the two of you that was working on overdrive to bring the two of you closer in proximity.

“Thank you, Joel. I’ve got a real nasty nail biting habit that spurs up every so often. I guess..after you brought me home from the bar, I absolutely tore my nails to shreds, but I had no recollection of it happening..”

“If it makes ya feel any better, I also have a nasty habit of picking at the skin around my nails till it bleeds. Ellie’s yelled at me for it numerous times, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop.”

“Maybe we can help each other break these habits? Or, at least show encouragement when we’re struggling?” You suggested.

“Yeah, I'd like that a lot actually. It’ll be a good way to hold ourselves accountable. Lord knows I need to sometimes.” He agreed. “Well, this dough is gonna have to sit for a bit before we can roll it out..whad’ya wanna do in the meantime?” He had his hands resting along the edge of the countertop that was lightly dusted in flour as he awaited your response.

“That’s a good question. Do you happen to have any records? Maybe we could listen to one? I have a good feeling in my bones that you have impeccable music taste.” You mused with a small grin spreading across your lips.

“Y’know, I actually do have a box of records in the living room. They ain’t mine, unfortunately. They were here when I moved in. There’s a lot of classics in the collection though. I’m sure we can find somethin’ that we both enjoy.” He tilted his head towards the direction of the living room.

You let Joel lead the way as he showed you the box containing the records. There was everything from the Beatles, Prince, Queen, Zeppelin, Frank Sinatra, and so on. “Well,” You started, “whoever lived here, clearly loved their music.”

“Ain’t that right.” his tone was slightly rasped as you made yourself comfortable on the floor with your legs crossed.

“You want a pillow?” He asked softly. “Might be a lil’ more comfy.”

You gave him a small nod in response as you began to carefully flip through the record albums.

He grabbed two pillows from the nearby couch without disturbing Honey before he joined you on the floor.

“Who’s your favorite? I know it’s a tough choice t’make. I don’t even think I could narrow mine down to five.” He chuckled warmly as he rested his weight back on his hands.

“Oh, gosh. I also don’t know if I could narrow it down..Stevie is definitely at the top of my list.”

“Ah, yeah. She was incredible. I was a big fan of Linda Ronstadt back in the day. Although, growin’ up, there wasn’t a song or artist that I didn’t enjoy.”

You slowly looked over at him as your fingers gently played with a torn edge on one of the records. “Was music a big part of your life?..Before, y’know.” You chose your words carefully as you watched him take a deep inhale.

“Yeah, it was. Used to be a big dreamer, believe it or not. Always wanted t’be a singer. Taught myself how to play the guitar, wrote a few songs here and there. None of them were very good, but I got a lotta joy out of it. Then when Sarah was born, I knew I had’to hold down a real job, and push that dream to the backburner. Spent a lot of time playin’ the guitar for her though. She loved it. Used to tease me n’tell me that I had a god awful singin’ voice.” He snickered.

Your giggle was soft, sweet, floating like a warm breeze. “Hey, I’m sure your singing isn’t that bad! It's wonderful that you found a lot of joy in that hobby. What about now? Do you still play the guitar here and there? Perhaps..sing in the shower like the rest of us?”

“Wouldn’t ya like t’know?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully in your direction. “Yeah, I’ve picked it up here n’there. Started writin’ some lyrics as well. Maybe..one day I can play for ya? Give ya your own lil’ private concert, front row.”

“Yeah, you dork. That’s why I'm asking!” You giggled. “Wow, a private concert, just for me? Well, I'd be honored.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, “don’t go gettin’ your hopes up jus’ yet, but I think I can manage.” He shot you a subtle, yet playful wink. “Now, whad’ya got there? Frank Sinatra, You Make Me Feel So Young?”

“An oldie, for the oldies.”

“I ain’t that old, darlin.’” He scoffed playfully.

“Mhm. Let’s face it, we’re a little old, but silver looks good on you.”

“Not nearly as good as it looks on you.” He countered smoothly.

“Charming.”

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth, darlin.’”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” You were looking directly into his eyes which naturally sent a blush rising to his cheeks. Yeah, he had it pretty bad.

“Y’wanna give it a listen?” He offered with a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely.”

He reached for the vinyl, fingers gently brushing yours as he gently removed it from your grasp before he stood up. He shuffled over to the nearby record player that had been neglected for years. He blew off a bit of dust buildup that had naturally settled along the surface before he placed the vinyl down carefully.

The needle slowly fell into place as the old turntable crackled to life, flooding the small expanse of the room in sweet music.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel so Spring has sprung

And every time I see you grin

I'm such a happy individual

Joel watched the way your eyes suddenly lit up, bright, glassy, beautiful. Your energy was infectious as his knuckles lightly thrummed along the hardwood. He wanted to ask you to dance, to make up for what happened at the Tipsy Bison. Why was he so apprehensive? What did he have to fear?

Connection. Intimacy. Devotion.

You seemed to recognize the inner turmoil he was presently facing almost immediately. The nervous thrumming of his knuckles, the way his brows furrowed inward as if he was deep in thought. The light unmistakable pursing of his lips.

“Hey, Joel?”

He blinked once before his eyes hesitantly met yours, “Yeah, darlin?’”

“You wanna dance with me?..It can be like a redo for our first date?” Your thoughtful suggestion was as comforting as a warm summer breeze as his fingers absentmindedly inched closer towards yours.

“Y’wanna make up for that night?..Beanie, we don’t gotta–I mean..only if you want to?” He was nearly stumbling over his words by the time you had gently grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” You replied with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. “Dance with me, Joel.”

His hesitation was evident, at first, but your gentle smile, and kind eyes eased his nerves as you both slowly stood to your feet. You could feel how clammy his palm felt around your own as his other hand slowly dropped to his side. He wanted to hold your waist, but after everything that happened, he was apprehensive.

“It’s okay, Joel.” You reassured him as your free hand dipped down to his side and delicately wrapped your hand around his wrist before coaxing his hand to rest around your waist.

“I’m a shit dancer, honey.” He murmured low and soft as his fingers slightly flexed against your waist.

“Joel, don’t overthink it. Just dance.” You encouraged him with a reassuring smile.

When his nerves slowly began to dissipate, he fell into a rhythm as he spun you around playfully. He was less worried about accidentally stepping on your toes, and more focused on the way the soft glow of the kitchen lighting bounced off your skin. How pretty you looked. How your eyes never seemed to leave his. The increased thrum of his heart drowned out the soothing crackle from the tabletop. All he could see was you.

It was as if a magnet was slowly pulling you in closer. The gravitational pull, foreheads touching, noses brushing, exchange of breaths. So close. So close. You could nearly taste him on your tongue–

“Beanie..” He breathed out. Pausing. Thinking. Just ask her. The worst she can say is no.

“Can I–”

“Please. Please kiss me, Joel.” Your thoughts were swirling, tumbling like a shaken up jar of marbles. You wanted him so bad. Terribly. You wanted and yearned to know what it possibly felt like to be kissed by Joel Miller. The moment was there in your grasps, and gone in a flash from the distinct creaking sound of the front door opening.

Ellie’s footsteps were soft along the floorboard as she pulled the door shut behind her. She was hoping that Joel wasn’t home. She wasn’t ready to confront him after what took place at the Tipsy Bison just a few nights prior. She was still hurting. Her curiosity got the best of her in the end when she saw that the kitchen light was on.

“Joel?..” She rounded the corner, eyes going wide, cheeks turning a deep bright red as she caught the moment you and Joel nearly kissed. She squeaked a fast apology, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” before darting out of the room like a bat out of hell.

You and Joel were startled by her presence to say the least. His eyes went wide before he was dropping his hand from your waist. He murmured an apology of his own before he slipped out of the kitchen to follow his kid.

“Ellie, wait! Kiddo, can we please–” He was hot on her heels as she scurried up the stairs and b-lined to her bedroom. If he was there a second sooner, he would have stopped her from slamming the door in his face.

“Kiddo, please. I jus’ wanna talk.” He sounded gravely defeated as his forehead came to rest upon the chipping paint on her bedroom door. He could hear her muttering to herself as she stuffed her backpack with overnight clothes.

Moments later the door flung open as she brushed past him with her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Ellie.” He tried one more time.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Joel. Sorry for interrupting your date.” She muttered before jogging down the staircase.

“Kiddo, please. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to Dina’s.” Was her short response. He could detect the hurt in her voice as he pathetically watched her disappear through the front door once more. The entire house was silent as he scrubbed a weathered hand across his patchy beard. Healing took time, he reminded himself. It didn’t happen overnight, but fuck. He missed his baby girl so much.

The old floorboards of the staircase groaned under his heavy footsteps as he trudged back down the stairs. His brain was telling him that it was time to call it a night. Send you home so you didn’t have to witness his pain at the forefront. His heart told him differently. His heart urged him to seek out your comfort, so he did.

He found you right in the kitchen where he left you. You had just taken the freshly made pizza dough out of the fridge and set it out on the counter. Your eyes slowly flitted upwards at the sound of his footsteps.

“Hey, I think the dough is ready to be rolled out. Want to give me a hand?”

Bless you.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry for runnin’ off like that. She’s been avoidin’ me since that night at the Tipsy Bison.” He admitted in a hushed tone.

“It’s okay, Joel. You don’t have to apologize for that. Did you..want to talk about it?”

“No, not right now. Let's just..make these pizzas. I’m starving.” He sighed, feeling his own mental and emotional exhaustion begin to way down on him like a bag of cement.

He met you on the other side of the counter, shoulders brushing as he pulled out a rolling pin from one of the drawers. You rolled out half the dough in silence together. It was almost as if you were sharing the weight of his present grief, soaking it in and absorbing it like a sponge.

Once the pizzas were dressed and popped in the oven, he wiped down the counter before grabbing a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. “I uh–really could use a drink. Would you like one? I’ve got wine and some spirits.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Joel.”

“Whiskey it is then.” He murmured as he grabbed another glass. “I really don’t usually drink. I jus–’ need somethin’ right now.” He didn’t know why he felt like he needed to explain himself to you, but it was too late to take his words back when they were already spoken.

“Joel, you don’t have to give me a reason as to why you need a drink right now. We all have our vices, and I hold no judgment towards yours.”

“I know I don’t have to explain myself to you, Beanie. I’m jus–’ I'm not okay right now. I don’t know whether I should laugh, cry, punch a fucking wall in.” He muttered bitterly as closed the cabinet door a bit too harshly. He shuffled past you to the wet bar area where he snatched up the bottle of whiskey with trembling fingers. He popped the cap off with his teeth as he poured a hefty splash of amber-colored liquor into his glass. He was considerate enough to give you half of what he was having.

“Joel, I know you’re not okay right now. Do you want me to?..”

“No.” He croaked softly, “No. I don’t want you to leave, please.” He took a sizable sip from his glass before he returned to your side, sliding your glass over.

“Okay, I won’t go, but is there anything you..need from me?” Your hand slowly grasped the crystal glass before raising it to your lips. The warmth of the liquor coated your insides like sticky molasses. It had a twinge of smoke, finished off with a hint of cinnamon. In short, it was fucking delicious.

“I don’t know.” He admitted somberly before he slowly sank down to the kitchen floor with his back resting against the oak cabinets, and the glass resting in his hand between his knees as his head fell back with a soft thud.

You descended alongside him with your legs outstretched, and ankles crossed. Sometimes all a person needed was a gentle soul. A wordless extended notion of comfort. Sometimes that was enough, but sometimes a person needed more. Whatever Joel needed in those crucial moments, you’d be there.

“Can I be honest with you?” He broke through the growing silence with a heavy huff through his lips.

“Of course.”

“I am fucking terrified of losing every goddamn person that I love, Beanie. I’m terrified of losing my brother. I’m terrified of losing my daughter, and I'm terrified..of losing you. I feel like a broken record that can’t quite find its rhythm because the vinyl is scratched, and the needle keeps catching. Do..you get what i’m sayin?’” His head slowly turned to meet your eyes.

Your heart skipped a monumental beat when he said that he was terrified of losing every person that he loved, and that you had made the cut. (not that there was one to make). You ignored the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and focused on him, and his willingness to rawly communicate with you.

“Joel, I understand why you are terrified, but you haven’t lost Tommy, Ellie, or me. We’re all right here. I don’t think you sound like a broken record at all. Try and show yourself a bit of compassion, okay?”

He stifled a bitter chuckle as he brought the rim of the glass back to his lips. He took another sip before he closed his eyes.

“Beanie, I don’t think you’d be tellin’ me to have some compassion for myself if you knew what I've done, the people I've killed, the choices I've made. I ain’t a good person. No matter how many times I have tried to justify my actions, I ain’t a saint.”

“Joel, do you think that anyone is truly a saint? Do you believe that we’re all innately good? That we’ve never hurt a friend, or said words we didn’t mean? Joel, even if the outbreak never happened, and we didn’t lose the people we loved, we still would be making mistakes. We still would be hurting people whether it was intentional or not. I mean this with full honesty, your past isn’t going to scar me. It isn’t going to make me think of you in a darker light, because goddamnit, we all had to fucking make some hard choices in the name of survival. I’ve killed people too, you know that, right? I lost count years ago. I lost my fucking faith in the shreds left in the remants of humanity until–” you felt yourself choking up with tears welling along your waterline, and your words lodged in your throat, clawing to be set free.

“Beanie–”

“No, please. Please just let me finish, okay? Joel, you’re so incredibly hard on yourself, and hell, we all are. I just want you to realize that you are not a bad person. You’re not a bad man. You’re not some evil monster lurking in the shadows. You’re a fucking human being that has spent over 20 years trying to survive. You have endured and survived up until this point. You and Ellie will be okay. She’s hurting, and so are you, but one day she will forgive you, for whatever it is that you have done. She needs time to heal, and so do you.” You felt mildly exasperated from the energy you were exerting.

Joel was speechless. He was floored as his pupils were blown out wide. His jaw physically dropped. He scrambled to gather his thoughts so that he could come up with a well-rounded response. He struggled with his words, as you knew. All he knew is that he had to be just as vulnerable as you were being.

“I killed an entire hospital of fireflies. I killed every single one of them to save her. To save my Ellie. My light. They were going to kill her, Beanie. Ellie is immune. She’s the only one. Marlene told me that the doctor that was going to perform the surgery on her thinks that the Cordyceps has grown with her since birth. Because it’s adapted to her, it tricks the normal Cordyceps into thinking that Ellie is one of them. That’s the reason why she is immune. Tess and I were taking Ellie to the fireflies because I made a promise to Marlene. It turned into something else along the way. I grew to care for Ellie as if she was my own. I even–I even told her that we didn’t have to keep going. We could come back to Tommy’s and forget all about the fireflies. My baby girl didn’t want that. She wanted to save the fuckin’ world, but she didn’t want to die. I know she didn’t want to die, Beanie. She thought that after it was all said and done, that we would be going home together.

“And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want, Joel.” Ellie reassured him.

“Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere you go.”

“But there’s no halfway with this.”

“We finish what we started.”

Ellie was determined to use her immunity to save the world, and Joel couldn’t stop her.

“Ellie..is immune?” You whispered softly as the weight of Joel’s words sunk deep into your soul.

“Yes, she is. You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone, Beanie. Not even Maria knows. Only Tommy and I. The rest of the community would turn to chaos if they knew.”

“The fireflies were looking for a cure, and Ellie was the answer? But, Cordyceps–”

“Grow inside the brain.” He deadpanned as he finished off what was left in the contents of his glass. “I did what I had to do to save her, and if I had to go back and do it all over again, I would. She didn’t want to die. She never consented to the surgery. Marlene never gave her the option, and neither did I. The worst bit? Beanie, I lied to her. I told her that there were more people like her. People who were immune. I told her there were dozens like her, and that the doctors couldn’t actually make any of it work. That they’ve stopped looking for a cure entirely.”

“They’ve stopped lookin’ for a cure.”

“Where are my clothes?” Ellie mumbled.

“Raiders attacked the hospital. I barely got ya outta there, kiddo.” he squeezed the steering wheel tightly as he lied through his teeth.

“Were people hurt?..”

“Yes.” He didn’t lie.

“Is Marlene okay?”

Joel paused as he glanced back at his daughter through the rearview mirror.

“I’m takin’ us home.”

“You never told her the truth, did you?” You knew the answer, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“No, I did tell her, and she hates me for lying and taking that choice away from her. She feels like..she holds no purpose in life now, and it’s all my fault.”

“Joel, you did what every parent would have done for their child. Biological or not, she is your daughter. She was in danger, and you saved her. I can’t blame her for the way she currently feels towards you. Her emotions are valid, and you should have never lied to her. You should have told her the truth from the start, but I understand why you didn’t tell her. You felt ashamed of your actions.”

“I just wanted to protect her.” He murmured as his eyes casted downwards.

You reached your hand out and gently grasped his shoulder and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.

“Joel, you did just that. You protected her. You saved her. You saved the world.”

His own eyes began to water. His lower lip trembled, wobbled with uncertainty as his glassy irises met yours.

“You’re right. I did save the world.”

And then, you were hugging.

His tears and your own fell freely as you cradled his head protectively against your chest with your chin resting gently against the top of his head. Your fingers threaded through his soft salt and pepper tendrils as he enveloped your frame in his strong arms. The oven dinged signaling that the pizza was ready, but neither of you moved an inch.

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay.

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