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cultofdixon · 4 months

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Strong, Healthy, that’s all that matters

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Part 2 to “You do what you can” • Alexandria is a wonderful luxury the group was given. Even with the ups and downs • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Miscarriage Mentioned / Pregnancy / Vomiting & Excessive Nausea / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

“Why are you out here and not inside with Y/N?” Carol asked her best friend from her porch while he sat on the fence fiddling with his crossbow.

“Doc gave her a sedative. She’s safe, don’t gotta watch her”

“Then why are you biting your thumb every now and then?” She comments on his anxious habit resulting in Daryl stopping himself from continuing.

“She’s weak, can barely stand weak. I’m tryin’ to think of what to do for her when the best thing for her right now is sleep and the IV that doc put in her. He comes by every hour to give us a new one and take the old one to refill. Rick or I change it but I don’t know what else I could do”

“Well, how about I make something that I ate during my pregnancy that I knew I kept down…see if Y/N can handle it. If not, I’ll keep making things pregnancy friendly with what we’ve got.”

“I heard what yea said when they took her to the infirmary.” Daryl hung his head low to avoid her shocked expression. “You wished she’d lost it, then she wouldn’t be useless when we take this place if people fuck with us enough.”

“Daryl—-“

“If yea mean it, then do that shit for my partner and our baby. Otherwise I’ve got it.”

“Yet you’re siting out here and not being with her. Doesn’t matter if you can’t do anything but watch her sleep or hell, sleep with her why not. That’s doing something” Carol states walking past to go to the pantry.

“You look ridiculous by the way!” He had to make one last comment which got a laugh out of the woman.

After a bit more time sitting on the porch to think of anything else he could do for his partner, he decided it was best to listen to his best friend. But when he entered the bedroom Y/N took, she wasn’t in bed and her IV bag was unhooked from her and clamped to keep it from continuing to dispense. Daryl was about to let his anxiety take over when he heard splashing of water.

The second he peaked his head into the bathroom, Y/N quickly turned to him.

“Hi…”

“Hi…how are yea…” His face distorted to the mixture of smells happening in the room. “feeling? What is—-“

“Vomit. I didn’t…make it to the toilet or the trash can at least and puked all over my clothes” Y/N frowns feeling awful about it as she quickly turned away to avoid her tears being noticeable. It’s small potatoes but she’s crying anyway…and again.

Daryl brought himself to kneel by the bath gently taking her chin bringing her attention onto him. He then took care of wiping away the tears bringing out that smile of hers as he leans against the edge of the tub.

“I’ll get you clean clothes. There’s sweats I saw….uhm. Did you take your IV out? Do I have to get—-“

“No it was uhm. The IV tubing was one like a screw in and not a needle piercing the plastic” Y/N showed him that she taped the excess tubing to her arm and did her best to keep it dry. “It’s honestly hard to explain and just easier to show you when I put it back in”

“Puttin’ your old nursing days to use”

“Surprised you even remember that…and it was just a clinic” Y/N laughs softly sinking a bit into the water that was starting to lose its warmth.

“Everythin’ you’ve said to me, I’ve kept to memory. You’re my girl.” Daryl gave her a soft smile which she will take to memory as she brought her hand to rest on his cheek watching him kiss the inside of her palm.

“You know you don’t have to be calm with me…” Y/N reassures even when he gave her a confused look. “I have gotten pretty good at reading your expressions, especially your infamous blank ones…I know you don’t like it here. It’s…scary and I’m not gonna get used to it instantly either or like the others”

“All I want is to keep my family safe. Something doesn’t feel right here but all I gotta do is keep y’all safe”

Y/N smiles bringing herself to the edge pressing a kiss to his lips as he happily returns the gesture.

“Need help out?” Daryl asks when Y/N pulled the stopper out to let the water drain. She nods watching him stand up holding his hands out for her to take carefully.

The second Daryl helped her stand to her feet his eyes fixated on something that anxiously took Y/N’s attention.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ bad” Daryl states still staring as he helps her out of the tub and reaching for the towel on the sink she set out for herself. “You’re showin’” he says while gently wrapping her in the towel and finding the opportunity to rest his hand on her belly after giving her a quick glance for any signs from her of not wanting him to do such.

But his large hands make it look like nothing in comparison to Y/N keeping the towel from covering her belly a moment so she could rest her hand on her small but growing bump. She couldn’t help the tears that started to form at her waterline when looking at the small bump as she was worried ever since she found out she was pregnant and had this 1 in a million case of intense nausea that the baby wouldn’t grow.

Yet here they were admiring the small thing as Daryl rest his forehead against hers a moment while they both looked before he wrapped her entirely in the towel and picking her up bridal style carrying her back to the rest of bedroom.

Once she dressed in the sweats and long sleeve Daryl had gotten out for her, it felt like a cue for Rick to step in without knocking but Y/N was used to that. She grew up with the guy.

“How are yea feeling?”

“I’m doing okay” Y/N gave him a tired smile while showing Daryl how to reconnect the IV bag. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah you remember Deanna coming in to introduce herself to you?”

“Yeah?” The confusion grew on her partner’s face to what he was getting at.

“She’s throwing a welcoming party or whatever they’re called for our infusion to the place. She wants you to come if you’re feeling well enough”

“I could just lie—-“

“Yeah I know but I have to go and so are the kids. I’d just. Like it if you came” Rick says on his way out before Y/N could say anymore on the matter. She turned to Daryl and before he could share his concerns on why he doesn’t exactly feel welcomed…

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Frankly I don’t…really want to either. I never fit in with this kind of crowd” Y/N rest her head on Daryl’s shoulder feeling his arm snake around her bringing her close. “You just be safe with whatever you do and I promise you I will be safe.”

“You just know what to say huh?” Daryl chuckles lightly pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll uh…well, I wanna check out the place when there’s not a lot of people ‘round”

“Can you make sure the wall is actually secure?”

“That what you’re really worried about?”

“I’m pregnant, Dar. I’m worried about a lot of things”

The night of the party came and Rick quietly approaches Y/N’s bedroom knocking on the door frame watching her attention go from the full body mirror to him. She was wearing a dress that was more on the fitted side and showed off her bump, the dress was given to her by Deanna. As if she wanted to show everyone who the pregnant newcomer was.

“You look miserable”

“Yeah but not in that sense. The doc came by to check me out…as per request by—-“

“Jesus fucking Christ”

“And he said I should be fine to go. So I can’t really stand up this party…especially since she also dropped this dress off and it’s like. She wants everyone to know I’m the pregnant one”

“Yeah I don’t quite understand this whole “reliving the old life” Alexandria’s got going for it. But I’ve found a sweater in my closet that I think you’d like to wear over the dress.” Rick tossed his sister the grey sweater that she instantly put on. “Well don’t we clean up nice”

“You miss it?” Y/N questions as she sits on the edge of the bed slipping her untied converse with ease as Rick instantly knelt down to help her by tying them. “The old world?”

“Honest? I don’t”

“Why?”

“I missed my sister, now I see her everyday” Rick stood to his feet once he tied her shoes and helped her up. “I don’t ever want to go back to rarely ever seeing you”

The first thirty minutes of the party, Y/N was approached by those simply introducing themselves to the newcomers and the occasional woman that was too curious about her pregnancy. She even had to swat someone from touching her belly. It seemed to only get worse when one of Deanna’s sons, Aiden walked over trying to do his usual shtick.

“Come here often?”

Gross. “Nope” Y/N tried to brush him off but he kept his place.

“I saw yea come in on a stretcher. Thank god a bombshell like yourself pulled through”

“I wasn’t dying”

“Ah well. Still”

“Still what? Did you not see the man glued to my side or the smallest but obvious reason why I had to be rolled into this shithole?” Y/N glared at the man while holding her belly as Aiden cleared his throat.

“I uh. Just thought you were fat—-“

“EXCUSE ME?!” Y/N scoffs about to break this man in half when Maggie cut in and physically shoved the guy back.

“Woah watch it. I was having a conversa—-“

“Yeah and it’s done, unless you want me to let her beat you to a pulp”

“Like her weak ass can even land a punch”

And without another word, Maggie moved out of Y/N’s way and she didn’t hesitate to land a good one right in the kisser. Aiden instantly fumbled back about to fight back when Reg instantly pulled his son away letting Deanna take care of the situation. But Y/N had enough of being there.

“Come on Rocky, let’s get you home before the ref realizes what happened to her bitch of a son” Maggie quickly wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders walking out of the house and heading toward the Grimes’s residence.

“Hope Daryl is having a better time than I am.” Y/N frowns feeling the sick feeling return.

Meanwhile Daryl was checking out the bike frame Aaron had shown him and while he was making a plate for the archer’s partner…Eric wobbled in.

“Hey you never told us your wife’s name”

“She’s not my—-Y/N—We ain’t married.” Daryl fumbled a bit as he had that strange old world feeling when it came to their “situation”.

Y/N Grimes is the love of Daryl Dixon’s life. Neither of them like labels.

Daryl calls her sunshine, darling, and lovely.

Y/N calls him my love, babe, and the occasional Darbear for the fun of it.

The archer calls her his partner to others and some part of him would love to use my wife.

So what’s stopping me? Daryl thought as Eric gave him a confused look after his scrambling.

“I know we just met but do you mind if I push?”

“Why do yea want to?”

“Because I feel like it. I talked to Y/N when we were both in the infirmary” Eric leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “She’s a catch, and fate brought you two together…you don’t need a fancy wedding for a union anymore. I get some don’t like labels or whatever, but honestly, those labels are sometimes not for you…besides” He reached into his pocket tossing a ring box at the archer. “She loved that”

Such little time in the infirmary lead to a lot of unanswered questions. But Daryl found himself heading back to the Grimes’s residence with a wrapped plate of spaghetti and a ring in a velvet box. Nothing too fancy. Nothing like what the brides have in the old movies. It suited them. That’s how perfect it was.

“Hey Dixon!” Pete calls out to Daryl carrying a few things in his hands as he stalls by the steps. “Got a few things for your woman after doing a bit of research and what happened tonight”

“The fuck happen tonight?”

Pete gave him about the same level of blank staring before handing him one of those instant ice packs. “She punched the Monroe boy. Should help with the bruising. Plus found one of these pregnancy books in what we are suppose to call a library? Anyway and some nausea meds”

“Thanks…” Daryl accepted everything as he watches him leave before quickly picking up where he left off heading inside.

The archer quickly dropped the plate off on the kitchen island before making his way upstairs and into their shared room finding her still awake. Y/N still wearing the sweater her brother gave her but was finally out of that stupid dress. When she locked eyes with her partner, some part of her wished she still wore it for him to see but she was more focused on everything he carried.

“You were busy tonight”

“Uh. I guess.” Daryl brought himself to sit beside Y/N feeling her lips instantly press onto his cheek the moment he sat before resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Heard about your right hook”

“Dumbass deserved it…”

“Gotta point him out for me, so I know who to fucking show who’s boss”

“I sort of already did, but I will” Y/N laughs lightly against him, taking the offered instant ice pack to crack it and hold it on her dominant hand. “What else you’ve got?”

“I’ve got yea a plate in the kitchen. Had dinner with Aaron and his partner Eric. It was…nice. I wish you were there with me” Daryl kissed the top of her head as she snuggled up into him humming in response. “The doc also gave me meds for yea to try when it comes to your vomiting”

“I can take down fluids so I don’t need the IV anymore. That’s one good thing happening”

“That’s great” Daryl repeated the phrase once more before carefully pulling away from Y/N setting down the nausea meds along with the pregnancy book that peaked her interest—-for only a short moment.

Because the archer getting down on one knee instantly brought her attention away.

“Daryl Dixon. What are you doing?”

“Something…something stupid? I…I know about what we think of labels and shit but I can’t shake this”

“Daryl…” Y/N softens bringing herself entirely to the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been wanting to call you my wife since the last month of peace back at the prison. I want and am gonna spend the rest of my life with you…and this peanut is just. Our overflowing love onto another human being…”

“So poetic of you, Daryl Dixon…” Y/N laughs softly bringing his face into her hands as the tears instantly fell from her touch.

“I love you so much, sunshine”

“I love you so much more Darbear” She smirks hearing his annoyed laugh escape his lips as she gently wipes away his tears. “Now are you going to ask me? Because I don’t need a ring to tell the world how much I love being your wife”

Daryl gently pulls away to take the ring box out of a pocket in his vest as it surprised Y/N slightly when he opened it. It brought out a small tearful laugh to the silver arrow wrapped into a ring. It was a little cheesy but it was for them.

“Will you be my wife, Y/N Grimes?”

“I do, Daryl Dixon. I sure as fucking hell do”

It’s been about two months since then. Y/N was now six months pregnant and Alexandria went through…a lot.

The wall collapsing

The herd

Carl losing an eye

Maggie’s pregnancy announcement

Losing a lot of Alexandrians

It took about a month to fix the wall and collect themselves, slowly bringing themselves back to a sense of normal.

The morning came slowly, or slower than usual…

Y/N shifted slightly in the bed feeling the discomfort truly grow in her back once she opened her eyes. A soft groan escaped her lips which stirred Daryl awake as he lifted his head to check her face for anything but kept his hand secured on her belly.

“The baby isn’t going to kick every time your hand is there”

“She does. Sometimes”

“She huh? What happened to strong and healthy…that’s all that matters?”

“That’s still fact. Don’t mean I can wish for somethin’ on the side” Daryl whispers as he pressed a kiss to her belly which resulted in a laugh from his wife but also a kick hitting his hand. “That’s my girl”

“Rick caught me up on your supply run just the two of you…promise you’ll be safe?”

“I always do don’t I?”

“Yeah but last time you came home with a knife wound in your shoulder”

“Alright, fair enough” Daryl brought himself to sit up and help his wife do the same as Y/N gently caressed his cheek worried about him. “I promise”

“Good…”

Because I have a weird feeling about today

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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readingcoco · 4 months

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Mood board credit: @rivetingrosie4

So after months of reading everyone else's work, I finally got round to finishing this one shot inspired by the wonderful @rivetingrosie4! It's the first thing I have ever written so any critique will be highly cherished. This is hopefully a good practice run for a longer story I will be working on for the rest of the year.

Taglist: @photo1030, @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr

🍑PEACH FLESH🍑

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI | 5067 words | Ao3 Link TAGS: Plus-Size Reader, Oral Sex, Fake Marriage, Internalised Fatphobia, Squirting

The door almost swings off its hinges as you and Arthur stumble into the second-best suite Strawberry’s Welcome Centre has to offer. Despite being a dry town, you were both half cut and giddy from the two bottles of brandy shared over dinner with the newlyweds you hoped to rob blind first thing in the morning.

The room is womb-like, lit dimly with low wooden ceilings and dark red baroque wallpaper lining each wall, in the centre stands a grand four poster bed adorned with more blankets than you know what to do with, set diagonally facing a little wood burner that radiates out heat that stings slightly against your mountain chilled cheeks. You haven’t been around such finery in years, the excess of it all feeling somehow grotesque when compared to the simple pleasures you’d now learnt to love.

“My Lady”, Arthur bows as he raises his arm, gesturing to the empty room.

“Husband”, you giggle, door closing behind you. The ridiculousness of that word still not losing its novelty.

“I’ll be sure to let Hosea know we’ve got a regular little con artist on our hands.”

Your body is vibrating with energy, the thrill of the past few hours still coursing through your veins; how you’ll sleep tonight, you don’t know, even with the promise of such a comfy mattress to lay your head on. You’d been terrified of letting everyone down ever since Dutch had summoned you to his tent to inform you of the job he had lined up for Arthur and the role he expected you to play. You were sure there must have been some mistake, but when he explained that your upbringing made you the ideal candidate, you couldn’t see a way to protest. So now you were here, just you and Arthur, and things were surprisingly going to plan for a change.

“I can’t believe how naive they were. Was I really so soft when you first met me?”

“A little”, Arthur smirks as he sits on the oak trunk at the edge of the bed, pulling roughly at the puff tie around his neck, eager to free himself of the restrictions of such formality. You had been shocked at how naturally he found getting into character after spending half the ride there grumbling about it. “Suits you, though, a bit of softness. Glad we ain’t fully sullied that good name of yours just yet.”

You bristle a little at the mention of your name, all the good it had done you when you’d drifted from town to town, relying on the goodwill of others to keep you from starving. Your name hadn’t saved you then, but the Van der Linde gang had. It was them to whom you owed a debt, not your family.

“We best get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You nod as Arthur moves to hang his dress coat in the wardrobe, and you catch sight of him over your shoulder in the large cheval mirror that stands to the side of the bed. He looks different somehow, here away from camp, more at ease maybe, less burdened by thoughts. This was the longest you and he had spent one-on-one, and you had found it surprising how quickly you had both fallen into an easy rhythm. You had always got on well in camp. You shared a closeness with him more akin to one of the girls than any of the other men; he’d bring you fresh peaches whenever he could, knowing them to be your favourite, and you would craft tonics and bitters for him to take on his travels. A trade between friends. Truth be told, if it wasn’t so implausible, you might have wanted to take advantage of the sleeping arrangement that now presented itself - Karen or Mary-Beth wouldn’t have given it a second thought! But as it was, that was a delusion, and Arthur had already courteously agreed to sleep on the floor.

Your reflection distracts you then as you compare the neat up and down of his form to your own inelegant roundness in the mirror. What was the word Grimshaw had used? Fleshy? And more on display this evening than you had ever elected to show to the gang.

When Trelawny had taken you to the dressmakers, your eyes had almost bugged out of your head when you saw the mannequin donning the dress he had selected for you. An off-the-shoulder, deep emerald gown with a swan-like bust made from velvet. Quite possibly the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You begged Trelawny to allow you to wear something, anything else. But he would hear nothing of it. To con an heiress, you would have to look like one. The ridiculousness of that notion forces a snort of laughter to escape your mouth. Arthur turns to you, lips preemptively curling upwards, expecting you to share your private joke.

“Somethin' tickle you?”

“Nothing, it’s silly.”

But his face doesn’t let up. You hesitate, trying to find a way to make him understand without sounding foolish.

“It’s just, I didn’t expect any of this to actually work. I went along with it because… because I wanted to be useful. I didn’t actually think anyone would believe that we were married.” You laugh, but Arthur looks confused.

“Why not?”

You giggle, gesturing back and forth between you like it’s the plainest thing in the world, but he still stares at you blankly.

“Don’t play dumb, Arthur! Look at me, and then look at you!”

“I’m lookin'.”

Your smile falters a little, realising that he is going to make you state the obvious, that unspoken truth that you have been biting your tongue not to scream out loud since Dutch revealed the con two weeks previous.

“Arthur, please…” Your voice is quieter now, traces of humour all but evaporated. “There ain’t no way a man like you would ever take someone like me as a wife. It’s just not the way of things.” Your eyes are now firmly rooted to the ground. Shame coursing through your body for putting such a dour end to a fun evening. Wishing desperately to go back to the teasing and lightness of moments before. “You're deserving of a fine woman, not a stout, plain thing like me.”

Arthur rears back on his heels as though slapped.

“Ought not to speak about yourself that way or judge whose hand is or isn’t deserving of mine, calloused and scarred up as it is.”

You laugh quietly at that and lift your head back up at him, where he hooks you in with a look so serious it catches you off guard, brows knitted together like he is weighing up some great debate. He sniffs-

“You looked beautiful tonight, Mrs Callahan.”

He steps towards you slowly, as one might approach a spooked horse, head tilted and low, looking up at you with sparkling pools of tranquil blue. You feel the overwhelming urge to bolt, but something about the assured look he has on you keeps you tethered to the spot, unable to move as the space between you grows smaller.

“Don’t tease me, it ain’t kind.”

“I’ve not been able to take my eyes off my pretty wife all evening.”

You search his face for some small hint of insincerity, half expecting him to rear back at any moment and mock you for not seeing his obvious joke. But he doesn’t pull back. Unyielding in his approach until he is close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your crown. The smell of brandy and tobacco smoke wafts deliciously in the air. You hesitate to look up, not sure you could withstand the heat of his gaze without melting into the rug.

“You know, I’ve not seen you wear anything like this before,” Arthur gently raises a hand up to your exposed shoulder and fingers some of the lace appliques around the rim, his chapped knuckles lightly grazing your skin. Your eyes close, and a faint sigh escapes your lips as you lean into his touch. “Caught myself thinkin’ about how much more of your loveliness you’ve been hidin' away.”

You are still unable to lift your eyes higher than the buttons on his shirt. But then he’s tracing a line up your throat, resting his thumb on your chin and gently manoeuvring your face to meet his. To be invited to view him up so close and personal this way is a delight you want to savour. The white lines around his eyes from squinting in the sun, the crook in his nose, badly set, smattered with freckles, the chip on his frontmost tooth, the face of a man who has only known hard work and fresh air. But the exchange of looks goes both ways and suddenly, you are reminded of the indolent, dumpy girl he must view.

“Arthur-”

His lips press into yours so keenly that your overthinking brain only has room for the sweet sensation of his insistent kiss, opening you up to him, coaxing you deliberately with his brandy, rich tongue. A needy whimper is spilled from your mouth into his, which he drinks from you, like a man parched, tasting your lips and then deeper, lapping you up. Your shaky hands find purchase on the plains of his broad chest, and you fist at his shirt to pull him closer.

As though that were the signal he was waiting for, Arthur grunts out a low groan before dipping his head to kiss at your neck and cushioned collar bone, hands running along the stiff shape of your corset, reaching around your sides, your back, searching blindly for some hidden opening. You have never seen him this feral.

You pull backwards, struggling to catch your breath, lips swollen, hair all but falling down.

“Wait,” You gasp. “You’re drunk, you don’t really want-”

“Woman, if you don’t stop tellin' me what I do and do not want.” He laughs, but there is a seriousness that underpins his tone. “Now, if you don’t want it, that’s different.” He lifts an eyebrow in question.

“It’s not that. I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.” He offers you a look that could almost read as exasperated if it wasn’t so filled with fondness. Your chest is pounding, you're not sure that you have ever wanted something, someone, so much in your entire life. Your eyes dart around the ornate room and land on the glowing gas lamp behind Arthur’s head. “Maybe if it were dark?”

He laughs dismissively. “You’re still not gettin' it,” He pulls his hand down his face before interlocking your fingers in his as though trying to work out how to explain something simple to a small child. “You think I would be here kissin' on you, actin' a fool, if I weren’t attracted to you?”

You don’t know how to answer him, so you remain silent. Chewing a loose strip of skin on your lip.

“You think I ain’t noticed you're bigger than most?” Your cheeks burn red at the acknowledgement of your body, something you have taken great pains to draw attention away from for as long as you can remember - modest clothing, intricate hairstyles, humour and helpfulness. His thumbs rub soothingly on the pulse point of your wrists.

“Ever considered that might be something I might like?” In truth, you hadn’t because how could it be? You had never seen images of women who looked like you in catalogues or advertisements unless it was to market some magical cure for the ailment of looking like you, never read about them in books unless they were some wicked aunt or old crone. How could Arthur be attracted to such a thing?

“Turn around.”

A command given so soberly that you find yourself spinning without thought. He pulls your back flush to him as he scoops the fallen tendrils away from your left ear, lips pressing into newly revealed skin. Your eyes find each other in the mirror as he trails a path of wet kisses down your neck to the tip of your shoulder. Unfolding you in his arms as if to show you off to the two figures staring back longingly, enjoying their own embrace.

“You see?” He traces the length of your arms with his rough fingers, ghostlike as they make their way down the curve of your arms, one wrapping tightly around your waist while the other seeks out your breast. He finds you heavy and full in his palm, and your bodies roll together in a languid moan released in unison.

You observe Arthur’s eyebrow hitch momentarily in the mirror, and his eyes darken as you feel a tug from your side and realise too late that he has found the opening of your dress. He wastes no time unhooking each clasp one by one, your breath coming in heavy as you watch him work, peeling the right side of your wrapped bodice away from your corset, the swell of your breast revealed, covered only by the thin cotton of your chemise.

You lift your hand to help with the clasps on the other side, but Arthur nudges you away as though this is his solemn duty to bear alone. He reaches around to your left-hand side until you are fully enveloped in his arms, and you can feel his heart pumping in his chest. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head falls back to meet his firm shoulder as you feel yourself going weak at the knees, like it has been the rigidity of your clothing holding you together this entire time; one more loosened clasp, and you are liable to break.

“I want you to see what your body does to me”, Arthur rasps out as he unwraps the left half of your bodice, leaving your chest fully bared, apart from your underthings. You watch as his fingers delicately trace their way up your corset, and he takes each of your full breasts in hand, rolling your beaded nipples with his thumbs. The sensation courses through your veins as your arms shoot behind you, grasping blindly in an attempt to ground yourself for fear you will float away. One hand meets his left hip, while the other finds the tight muscle of his thigh before something more protruding grazes the pads of your fingers. Arthur lets out an involuntary grunt as he bucks into you.

You run your fingers along his length more deliberately then, and the fire it ignites in him is enough to rival the sun. Eyes still locked firmly onto yours in the mirror, he pulls your bodice from your arms with two rough jerks before throwing it to the side to begin work on your skirts.

“Face me.”

You turn, as he pulls you into a deep kiss, fingers hooking behind you to undo the ties at your waist. His hands glide down your back, over your ass and hips, skinning the fabric away from you until it bunches up and falls to the ground. Catching his breath, he steps back, panting, taking in the curves of your now semi-exposed form. You have never been looked at this way, hungrily, like your ripened flesh is the only thing that could save this starving man.

“Goddamnit”, He hisses, more to himself than you and backs away from you further.

Without the solid touch of him to reassure you that the last few minutes haven’t been some momentary lapse in sanity, a wave of self-consciousness pulls you outside your body like some sort of uninvited voyeur, looking down at the scene, struck by the implausibility of it all. Here is this man - Adonis, even, who could have his pick of women, not just in camp but in polite society too; you had seen how the newlywed wife had looked at him over dinner, and then you, dimpled and misshapen like a bruised peach.

Sensing the sudden shift in your demeanour, Arthur quickly steps back to you, resting his forehead on yours, blue eyes burning intensely, cupping your cheeks with both hands.

“You still don’t believe I want ya?”

You stare back at him, his lips so close you must hold back the urge to nip at them.

“I’m sorry” you whisper. Softly, Arthur removes a hand from your cheek and finds your own covering the curve of your stomach. He hooks his fingers into yours and guides your hand lower down to the hard line of his trousers.

“My whole body’s achin’ for ya, Darlin'.” His arousal is undeniable now, and for a moment, you start to believe that he could be true to his word. Perhaps certain tastes are only acquired by a few. Your thumb reflexively works up and down the solid ridge of him as he presses his lips to yours and lets out a groan.

“Now-” He’s struggling to maintain his focus as your fingers continue to stroke him. “I’m going to sit down right here, and you are going to show me what I’ve been wantin' to see.” He huffs out and pulls himself back from you again and sits at the edge of the bed, eyeing you eagerly in anticipation.

For a moment, you stand there, tethered to the spot, brain failing to remember the motions one must go through to undress, as though this was something entirely new and not the most ordinary of tasks.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply to gather yourself before loosening the ties of your petticoats and allowing them to fall to the floor like the heavy skirt before it. A rumble of approval from the bed forces your eyes to open. When you are met with a look so full of adulation, it’s hard to stop the grin from spreading across your entire face. You step over the crumpled petticoats with a little skip before marching to the bed and lifting your heeled foot to rest between Arthurs's legs.

“Care to do me the honour?”

“My pleasure.”

Arthur takes your stockinged ankle in his large hands, pressing a flurry of kisses to your knee as he peels the silk down your leg before unbuttoning the pointed-heeled boot and tossing them aside. As you lift your other leg up to him, he hooks your knee and carves his hands upwards underneath your bloomers, fisting a handful of the meat of your inner thigh.

“Patience,” you say, fully enthralled by this new sense of power you feel in your core like you could tell this man to walk through hot coals, and he would thank you for the privilege. You flick the point of your shoe towards him to undo.

Heels removed, you step backwards again, fingers tracing the shape of your body slowly, tantalisingly, noting how each swirl of your thumb, each flick of your wrist registers like a shockwave on the gunslinger’s slack-jawed face. You press your clothed breasts together, lifting them experimentally and letting them fall. And then once again. Arthur lets out a hiss.

“Woman, you don’t know what I have planned for you.”

Your fingers ghost the eyelets of your corset, the moment you have been dreading. The barrier moulding your shape into something deemed acceptable by society. You feel without it, you may fall apart. But if his face isn’t goddamn begging you to take it off. Who are you to disappoint him?

You pull the top clasps together, and then the bottom and your lungs fill with air as your body relaxes in kind. You stand there in only your chemise and bloomers, near transparent, backlit by the light from the fire. You hitch your chemise to your waist, inch by inch, as Arthur leans forward, almost salivating. Your fingertips slide under the waistband of your bloomers as you shimmy them down to your ankles with a wiggle, exposing the thatch of hair at your sex for a split second before your chemise falls back into place.

A thought comes to you then, and you're not sure if it’s in part to delay the inevitable shame of baring yourself to this man so completely or if part of you is starting to have fun, but you realise the power you hold stood before him in nothing more than your chemise. What would he give up to see your exposed flesh? What trade might he offer now? A peach for something saltier perhaps? You toy with the frill at your hem.

“Planned? You sound like you’ve been dreamin' on this for a while, Arthur.”

You step towards him again so that your scantily covered breasts are now at eye level. He reaches out to touch you, but you shoo him away.

“You ‘been having indecent thoughts?”

“The worst”

You cock your head to the side in mock outrage. The giddiness of dinner, playing dress up, and make-believe comes flooding back with full force.

“What thoughts?”

“Takin' you in my tent… spreadin' you out… all pretty for me.” He can barely get his words out as your finger lifts the corner of your chemise.

“You ever done anything about those thoughts, cowboy?”

The rush of crimson to his cheeks surprises you as you imagine him alone in his cot with only daydreams of you to keep him company. You have so many other questions: When did this start? Why has he only chosen to act now? But they will have to wait. You glance down at his lap.

“Show me.”

Like an eager puppy, he springs from his seat, towering over you, but you don't step back. Arthur’s disrobing is a much more efficient affair; suspenders are shrugged from his shoulders, shirt unfastened, trousers kicked haphazardly across the room until he is in a comparable state of undress, left in only his union suit. If you’re not mistaken, a similar wave of trepidation pumps through his veins, too. You eye the proud ridge of his length, straining the stretched cotton as Arthur unbuttons his union, first revealing the coarse blonde hair at his chest, which darkens with each new release, lower and lower. At the juncture of his groin, thick brown curls frame the base of his shaft, and as he steps out of the suit, cock springing free, filling the space between you, you're not sure you have seen beauty like it.

“Show me.” Your voice is a whisper now. Arthur takes himself fully in hand and slowly strokes himself while holding your gaze. You watch him intently: artful and precise like every other task his expert hands carry out. You almost lose yourself watching him before you remember your own throbbing need and push him back to his seat on the bed. You are ready now. Confident.

You raise your chemise up your strong thighs, the curve of your hips, swell of your belly, higher still to meet your heavy breasts that fall as the fabric catches them momentarily; you pull the cotton above your head, over your plump arms, until you are stood naked as the day you were born, goosebumps adorning your skin, like velvet. They prickle as you smooth your hands across your belly, as though touching it for the first time. Maybe you are touching it for the first time with gentle hands? You smile at this private realisation and then towards the cowboy, who is near cross-eyed with want, stroking himself vigorously at the sight of your unveiled form.

“Am I what you expected?”

“Git over here already. I’m tired of just lookin'.”

Before you can protest that you don’t want to crush him, Arthur is pulling you onto his lap, the ripe head of him grazing your clit and pressing between your stomachs. You try to hold some of your weight from him by awkwardly balancing yourself where your shins meet the mattress, but then he’s grabbing two firm handfuls of your ass and lifting you up with him. Reflexively, your legs wrap around his waist as you are suspended in the air. It feels like flying. You have not been picked up like this, cradled, since you were a child, and even then, by the time you turned 7, your papa had started to groan that you were too big. But Arthur lifts you effortlessly, kissing into your mouth as he spins you round and lays you out on your back, his body curving over yours.

His knuckles tenderly graze the shape of your cushioned ribs, rising and falling in time with his own. He slowly lowers himself down your body, taking care to kiss an open-mouthed trail down the centre of your sternum, between the valley of your breasts, palming each on his journey. Your body arches up hungrily in anticipation of each kiss, eyes drifting shut as you feel the warmth of his breath waft against the moistened curls of your pelvis, already sodden with want.

A flash of ecstasy pulls the air from your lungs as your eyes spring open, and you grasp wildly to pull him back up to you. He can’t. It’s too much. But the cowboy holds firm. You peer between your legs in horror as Arthur begins to feast greedily at your cunt. From the depraved sounds from his chest, you intuit that this must be another of this man’s acquired tastes. Still, the sight has you scandalised in such a wickedly licious way you find yourself biting your lip as a drawn-out groan rasps itself out of you.

A wave of impossible pleasure builds first in your chest. Then it permeates outwards, sending vibrations down your arms and neck, catching in your cheeks, forcing you to huff out pathetic little pants. You begin to writhe and wriggle under the pressure of his tongue, brazen as it dances along your slippery folds. Long, languid licks, lapping you up.

“Ohh-”

Your legs pull together reflexively in a vice-like grip, ensnaring his head. Still, if Arthur fears suffocation, he shows no signs of stopping, sucking you wholey on the clit until your body is quivering like that of a bow fully drawn.

“Arthur…” You beg as another wave has your head rolling back into the mattress. “Please… I can’t.”

“You can.” He rumbles as he pushes a finger inside you, and your legs start to tremble violently, loosening their grip around the cowboy’s head. Jesus Fuck. You jut your pelvis forward involuntarily as your whole being seeks out a deeper penetration. Sensing your rising need, Arthur slides a second digit inside you and curls them in an upward motion as if coaxing your climax to come quicker, harder. Don’t be shy, it’s alright. You're doin' so good for me.

You feel it then, pressure, unlike anything you have experienced from your own hand. Like you are a jug being filled from a fast-flowing river, you feel yourself reaching the brim and then spilling out, overflowing. Water gushing from within, swirling you up in its current and washing you out to sea. Clear liquid streams from your cunt, coating Arthur’s face and neck. As your body resurfaces the only way you know you have not drowned is through the heartbeat you feel pumping in your ears.

“I’m so sorry” You gasp, as you pull off him and quickly try to cover the sodden evidence of your release, fisting desperately at the blankets, distraught by all the new and mortifying ways your body seeks to humiliate you. But then you hear Arthur’s chuckle as he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“I ain’t never made a girl come like that before. C’mere.” Arthur takes hold of your frantic hands and pulls you towards him, scooping you up in his sturdy arms, resting your cheek against the soft curls of his chest and looking down at you adoringly. “You got nothing to apologise for. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You silently shake your head, certain you will never be able to look at the man in the face again. He frowns then, trying to work out how to bring you back to him.

“I hope you're not ashamed on account of me? Ain’t nothing prettier I’ve seen, lettin' go for me like that.”

“But I made a mess.”

“Just as well Grimshaw ain’t here to scold us about laundry then. ‘Sides, if we hang them by the fire, they’ll be dry by the mornin'. No harm done.”

You feel his rough palm tenderly cup your cheek, angling your face to his and placing a light kiss at the end of your nose. “I hope you won’t see me different now, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky as it suddenly strikes you how exhausted you feel, body totally spent, laying heavy like lead in his arms.

“I sees you for who you are; that ain’t changin.” He says earnestly, “We should rest, though; we've got an early rise.” You can still feel him hard as a rock against your hip and wonder if it causes him discomfort. As your eyes trail downwards, he lets out a knowing laugh. “Plenty of time for that after tomorrow.”

After tomorrow?

He lifts you up to sit on the chair in the corner of the room, wrapping one of the unsullied blankets around your shoulders, another around his waist as he strips down the bed. Thankfully, your release has only soaked through the quilted throw, leaving the linens underneath untouched. He pulls back the sheet and beckons you over.

As your head hits the pillow, you feel the pull of sleep dragging you towards it, but then you realise Arthur has yet to follow suit. You sit bolt upright, eyes searching around the room for him needily.

“Hey, I’m just here. I weren’t sure if you’d want me in the bed or not. I didn’t wanna assume nothin'.” You practically roll your eyes at his honorableness, as if he wasn’t buried tongue-deep in you no more than five minutes earlier. You reach out a sleepy hand towards him.

“I couldn’t rightfully allow my husband to sleep on the floor now, could I?” you smirk as Arthur finally makes his way over to the bed and tucks himself in tight beside you, wrapping you up underneath his chin. It’s not long before you are drifting off into a deep sleep, with thoughts about what happens after tomorrow filling your dreams. 🍑

#Peach Flesh #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #red dead smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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thesmokingguns · 2 months

Text

25 Hours a Day w/ Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

“Want to go somewhere quieter?” His eyes were dark in the dim lighting of the bar. All onyx gleam against mine as he waited for my reply.

The world got quiet for a second as heat flooded my cheeks as I nodded your head, watching him stare for a second too long before closing out the tab, slipping his hand on my lower back as you stood up ready to go.

Izzy smelled like the woods after the rain, the wet pine and forgotten secrets mixed with the harder edge of city life, whiskey and tobacco, making him so distinct. You were wrapped in the scent of him as he guided you through the crowd towards where he had parked the 60’s Chevelle in a glossy black that must have cost a fortune.

Not that izzy seemed to bat an eye about money, it was just another thing he had.

A chill racked your spine, his thumb pressing into the bones, running it up and down as he opened the passenger door for you, leaning in as you bent to get in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up soon.”

He was shutting the door for you, moving to the drivers side before you could gasp or call him out for what he had just said to you. His words leaving you with your mouth gasping like a fish out of water.

This was only my first date with him, despite this strange feeling that I knew him from somewhere. A memory just scratching at the surface but I hadn’t been able to bring it to the top yet.

I was aware he was driving me to his place, unsure if I should say something to him about it but feeling the nervous energy pulsing through your body, tingling you between your legs as my clit swelled with need and the damp desire flooded the silk panties I had slid on earlier today.

That same sense of will he see them now making my heartbeat wildly?

Izzy reached over, his veiny hand laying on my knee, a collection of cool silver rings chilling my skin as he turned his palm, walking his fingers up the flesh of my thigh as a shattered gasp of shocked want filled the air. A terror filled me as I realized that pant of want had escaped my lips. It was my needy sounds in the car.

“It’s okay, violet.” My eyes went from where he was resting his hand high on your thighs. HIs fingers lazily stroking with a surety that you weren’t sure existed in a bone of your body.

Violet? That wasn’t my name.

“On your lower back you have a birthmark, all violet in color and looking as soft as the petals of a flower.” He explained the nickname when he saw your confusion, my blush rising as I wondered how he knew about the spot that would only be clear in your swimsuits.

Sure I had spent time at the pool but that had been during the summer, weeks ago now that autumn had fully settled its dry bones over Indiana. Plus Izzy had been in LA, only visiting home recently to visit his family.

How could he have seen it?

But that information he didn’t volunteer to me with words. Instead he looked at me at the redlight, unafraid to make me wiggle uncomfortable in his gaze. He knew his effect on people and still didn’t care. He watched me in a way that was familiar, like his eyes had been on me for months and now you just realized all those times your hair had stood on end, looking around to see who caused me the feeling, was in front of me.

He smirked as he watched me swallow, his left hand moving to cup my jaw, thumb pressing where I had swallowed and trailing it down.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” The whisper was raspy with need and your eyes widened at the way he was affected by you.

As quick as he was on me he was off, pressing the gas as he squeezed my thigh, roaring down the street and getting closer to his house.

Everyone in our hometown knew where Izzy Stradlin lived. It was an old colonial style with so much land that you couldn’t even see it from the road. The wrought iron gates had been snuck over by local kids trying to get a glimpse of their celebrity. It had gotten to a point that Izzy hired a guard, who was currently opening the gates for the two of you to drive in.

Izzy nodded at the man as he drove down the drive, turning around the circular drive as he parked the car in front of the house, giving my thigh one more squeeze before jumping out and striding confidently to my side and pulling open the door for me.

“Before you come in, little violet, I’m going to give you a chance to back out of this.” I looked at him, shivering as leaves made sounds of bones tumbling in the wind. Autumn was craving to be winter. “I’ll drive you back to your house. Or you can come in and spend the night with me. I’m warning you. Think about this because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to let you go after one night. You might have found yourself well and truly fucked, little violet.”

Blinking I felt my heart speed up. Izzy was 29, eight years older than me. We hadn’t known each other in school and didn’t have mutual friends. Us meeting had been strange. He had walked into my job at the law firm, where I did clerical work with some guy my mom had dated at one point, and asked if I would have dinner with him. When I had blinked, confused he had gone on giving me a time and asking me my address, which I gave to him without thinking.

Sure enough at 6:55 my mother was yelling at me that he was here, her energy as excited as mine. My mother had me when she was 16 which made us close in a way that all our friends had always been jealous of.

When I walked down the stairs, wearing the slinky back top that tied in the back and tiny little denim skirt with strappy heels I had stolen from her closet she had told me to call her if I wasn’t coming home, making me burn like the sun as I threw open the door as Izzy walked up to meet me.

His eyes had widened as he stole a final drag of his cigarette, the cherry at the end burning as bright as his eyes as he looked at me as if I was the first girl he had ever seen. But he recovered quickly, holding out his hand as he helped me into his car and whisking me off to dinner and drinks.

And now I was in front of his house having to make a choice if I wanted to sleep with him tonight; I knew that was what was going to happen if I went inside with him.

“Can I use your phone?” he blinked, confused before smirking, recovering as he nodded his head, helping me inside his house.

I slid off the wool jacket I was wearing, letting Izzy take it as he motioned to where the phone was in the hall and mentioning he was going to go get us drinks.

Calling home my mother reminded me to have fun, knowing that she had taught me my whole life how to be safe. It was the fun part that she thought I didn't have enough of.

Slipping from my heels I groaned a soft sense of freedom as I returned to my height. Bare feet on cool wood floors quietly moved around until I was in the soft glow of a fire, watching Izzy carefully stroke it as warmth filled the room.

As a log cracked his eyes lifted from the flames to me, pausing as if he just remembered I was there with him and he wasn’t alone. The look was enough to make me dizzy with need as I moved into the living room further as he set down the poker, stepping to meet me.

His arms fit around my body in a way that felt like we had done this a thousand times before and not just tonight.

“You’re staying?” I nodded, my tongue suddenly heavy as I watched the way his lips lifted in the barest of smirks, “I’m going to kiss you now, little violet.” His fingers pushed back my hair as he got closer, not breaking eye contact with me, “And when I kiss you, everything is going to change.”

Before I could ask when he meant he was pushing a palm into my lower back to bring us flush together, his left hand tilting my chin up and cupping my cheek as he pressed his lips against mine in a possessive dominance that made my toes curl.

My hands slid up, over the black button down he had worn to clasp behind his neck, pushing myself up as I opened my lips, deepening the kiss that we were sharing. Heart thundering as Izzy’s tongue dragged along mine, our tastes becoming something new. Something that was distinctively ours.

It was delicious.

All at once it wasn’t enough, I needed more of him.

“We have a lifetime, little violet.” he warned as I pushed my hips against his , feeling the hardness he had for me.

“I want to start my lifetime now.” Izzy’s eyes flashed in desire before he was swooping me up, letting me wrap my arms around his waist as he spun us towards the couch in front of the fire, laying me down on the leather.

His body over me as he pushed against me, making me groan in need as I pushed up against him as he kissed me, claiming me and needing me. Our hips grinding against each other. Just his pants and my panties as a barrier.

But Izzy made quick work of all that, leaving us breathless and naked between kisses as his cock jutted, hard and leaking dots of precum that had me hungry for his cock. I wanted to taste him instead of letting it go to waste.

“I don’t want a barrier between us.” I should have told him that he needed to wear a condom but I didn’t want a barrier either. I wanted all of him. I wanted to see the way my body coated him with my wetness, to see how he looked covered in me.

“I’m on the pill.” He nodded, pushing the head into me as I felt the way my lips parted, hands searching for something to gasp as I looked down.

Both of us were staring, watching the place between my legs where our two bodies were joining together. Inch by inch he claimed me, pulling out to watch the way I made his cock glisten with my cum before burying himself back inside of me. Both of us are entranced by the beauty of our two bodies together.

“Fuck.” Hearing him moan for me made me look up from where our desire was fueled and to his face. The way he watched my body, how he looked like I was his euphoria. It made my stomach knot with need.

Reaching out, I stroked his cheek, his eyes flashing up as he looked at me, Izzy was lost in me. His eyes not holding that calm collectiveness that he had displayed. He was losing himself and it was because of me.

Tugging his hair I pulled his lips to mine, sitting up as I slid him deeper inside of me,rolling his hips so that he could get deeper inside of me. Filling me in a way that had me so full I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk after this.

He wasn’t even going that fast or hard, taking it easy as if each second he was inside of me was a time that needed to be savored and appreciated. He was engrossed with me, so wrapped up as we panted, letting out sounds that I hadn’t know were possible against each others lips as we moved together to music that our bodies were performing.

“You’re perfect, little violet.” His thumb stroked the birthmark I had always been embarrassed about, turning my feelings into something beautiful. Making something I hadn’t been happy about into something beautiful for me.

I was so close, Izzy seemed to sense my buildup. He pulled from our kiss, eyes on my face like he didn’t want to miss a moment of pleasure between us.

“Let go for me. Let me see the way you look when you come on my cock for me. Let me see you, little violet.” His words rattled me as I wanted to do it, wanted to have him watch me as I shattered apart for him.

My orgasm burst between us, his eyes widening in primal need as his hands gripped my hips, thrusting deeper, harder as he fucked me through my orgasm, letting me collapse against his couch as he covered me, chasing his own moment

“Izzy, fuck!” I cried out for him as my toes curled, a second orgasm shattering me and blinding my vision with tears.

“Yes, say my name again.”

“IZZY!” I cried out for him as I felt him, the warm thick feeling of being filled with ropes of cum as his cock rutted it deep inside of me, filling me with him before he laid against me, supporting most of his weight on his forearms as he tried to remember how to breathe.

The world was quiet chaos of crackling logs and breaths that shook our chests.

“I’ve been waiting months for you.” his lips kissed my collarbone as I tried to make sense of what he was saying to me, “Months of watching you just trying to be ready for you. I knew you were a hurricane. I just had to get ready for the storm.” His lips slid down as he kissed my stomach, my head heavy as I tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Lets get you showered. I need to take you again, little violet. I want to make love to you twenty five hours a day.” My heart finally threw its opinion out there. Taking over for my brain who wanted to live and my vagina who wanted him.

My heart knew we were well and truly fucked.

#izzy stradlin guns n roses #izzy stradlin gnr #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin fan fiction #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy hands #izzy stradlin fan fic #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses fanfic #Guns N roses #gnr fanfic #izzy stradlin imagine #Izzy Stradlin Guns N roses

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redskull199987 · 1 year

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Imagine this Y/n is Jack’s granddaughter who got kidnapped when she was 15 years old. They never found her so Jack thought that she is you know 💀. Buuuut one day girl about Fred’s age came to Moriarty’s mansion and William was like How can we help you and she was like im here ti see my grandpa. So after Jack explained everything Willism was like yeah she can stay (so he can f her the same night) BC THEY WERE PLAYING SIMON SAYS BUT SPICY ONE(they have known each other bc Moriarty lived at her place after the incident of there Mansion).

Do tou think you can write rhis?

I am so sorry that it took me that long to write this. I did enjoy it very much In the end. I changed it a little bit tho, but not much. The only difference is that they're playing chess, instead of Simon Says, I hope that's fine^^

A Bet

William James Moriarty x female!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, apart from that it's basically just making out, lil bit of fluff

Summary: After years of being away you, the granddaughter of Jack Renfield, finally return to him. How convenient that he lives with the Moriarty family now...

Masterlist

I stumbled through the empty streets of London. It was already late at night, so you could barely spot any people outside. Only here and there, a lonely soul was making their way home.

I was one of them. One of the many lonely souls, who who had to eke out their existence in this city. But today, I was hoping to finally find my home again, my family. Or, what was left of it.

I had almost reached the Moriarty residence. I knew, that I was making a bet here. There wasn't a hundred percent chance of finding my Grandfather Jack Renfield here. He was the only family that I had left. And after finally escaping the family, I was sold to after I was kidnapped when I was 15, my sole goal was to find my grandfather.

And the Moriarty's were the only clue, that I had. I knew that he used to work for them. I had seen them a few times, back then. Back then when everything was still at peace. When London wasn't burning itself up, with half of its residents supporting a murderous genius and the other half trying to bring him down.

My mind kept racing, as I finally reached the door's of the Moriarty residence. It was huge, but that was expected. After all, they were lords.

With shaky hands, I opened the metal gate and made my way to the main entrance.

I could see light inside, which meant that they were still awake, or at least someone was still awake.

I breathed in heavyly, before I climbed the stairs to the door. I looked at it for a few seconds, before raising my hand and knocking loudly three times.

I hadn't realized that I had held my breath in, until the door in front of me opened.

A tall young man with blond hair and mesmerizing red eyes was looking at me.

I had recognized his eyes. It could only be him. The genius.

"William?", I asked, my voice weak.

"Pardon me, young Lady, but do I know you?", He asked politely.

"I am looking for my Grandfather, Jack Renfield.",I explained.

I watched as his eyes widened, when he realized who was standing here in front of him.

"Y/N...is that really you?", he mumbled, a hand raised to rest it on my shoulder.

"Yes.", I stated, "It is really me."

William softly ushered me inside, while taking off my soaked coat. I waited for him to put it down to dry.

He then showed me the way to the living room area.

I noticed several people sitting there. I counted six in total, seven together with William.

They eyed me suspiciously, after noticing us.

"This might be a shock for the most of us, but...", William started, his hand still on my shoulder.

But before he could finish, the man who I had undoubtedly identified as my Grandfather jumped up and walked over to us. He stopped right in front of me, his eyes wide and his hands trembling.

" Y/N", he said quietly, "Is it really you?"

I felt how my eyes started to water:"It's me, Grandpa"

He sniffled before pulling me into his embrace. I held onto him tight. I finally had him back. I had my family back.

A few weeks had passed, since my return. William and his brothers had generously allowed me to stay at their residence.

I had also been let in on their plan to change the nation. And to be honest, to realize that William was the Criminal Mastermind was not hard.

I had also been introduced to Colonel Moran, Fred, Von Herder and Bond.

They were all very different but they worked together perfectly.

And while Fred was very reserved and quiet, Moran and Von Herder were Chaos. Even though, they were a different kind of chaos. While Moran basically started flirting from the first second he saw me (much to the dismay of my grandfather), Von Herder was only passionately ranting about his guns. And as much as I liked listening to his talks, it was a lot more pleasant to talk with Bond and share a nice cup of tea with him. He had also let me in on his story, while I told him mine. I felt like he was one of the few who understood what I had been trough.

Well, apart from William. He was able to read me like an open book. Since I arrived we only had a handfull of interactions. After all he was a busy man, a math professor and criminal Mastermind at the same time.

Nevertheless, it always felt like he knew something that I didn't, when we talked.

He had asked me to join his group on the third or fourth evening already. He explained that he understood if I didn't want to join his cause, it was dangerous after all and with my past. He told me that he couldn't promise to keep me save and out of his business. It would be hard, since everyone who lived here, openly talked about the plans they had.

So, I agreed and William had slowly filled me in over the next few days. Until I knew his plan and everything that they had achieved so far. It was truly exhilarating, but also intimating to see what one group of people could achieve, if they only worked hard enough.

"What are you thinking about?"

I was ripped out of my thoughts, when I heard William's voice behind me. I turned around an granted the young man a smile. My mind started to wander at that thought again. He must've been 23 or 24 by now. Not much older than me.

"I was about to make a tea.", I finally answered his question, as William was still staring at me expecting an answer, "Would you like some as well?"

He smiled politely:"That would be nice. It's strange not to have Louis around."

I nodded at his words. I remembered that William had sent his brother off to a mission a few days ago. He was accompanied by Fred, Moran and Bond. And with Von Herder always hanging out in the basement and Albert being away most of the day, busy with his work as a Lord, William, my Grandfather and me were the only one's left in the residence.

After a few minutes the tea was finished and I reached for two cups, but I couldn't reach them. Louis usually made tea in this house and he was taller than me, so naturally the cups rested higher in the cupboard.

"Mind if I help?", I heard William smile next to me. He gently pushed me aside and grabbed two cups, before handing them to me.

"T-Thank you.",I mumbled. Why was I stuttering?

"No problem", he grinned. I handed him his cup and he made his way over to the sofa.

I watched him for a few seconds, before deciding to go back to my room. I was about to leave, as I heard William call my name.

"Y/N?", he asked.

I turned back around, tea still in my hands:"Yes, William?"

"Would you join me for a party of chess?", he smiled.

I didn't know what to say for a few seconds. Surely, I couldn't win against him, could I? After all, he was a genius.

"Sure.", I smiled and made my way over to him. Why did I say yes?

"What do I get, when I win?", I joked, as I sat down in front of him. William smirked at me, as he started to prepare the game.

"Whatever you want.",he smiled.

I felt how my cheeks reddened at his words. Why was he making me nervous all of a sudden?

"Does the same count for me?", he asked.

"What do you mean?", I said as I made my first move.

"When I win", he explained while moving his first figure,"Do I get a wish?"

I only nodded at his request, too bashfull to open my mouth again. I had to win this, or it would be the end of me. But the smile on William's face made me nervous. Would I be able to win this?

I lost. Hard. He defeated me in minutes. I barely had time to finish my tea. I didn't even realize how he did it this fast, but he did it and now he had a free wish.

"I guess, I shouldn't have betted on this.", I mumbled.

"Probably not.",William chuckled.

I watched as he slowly stood up. He was standing directly in front of me now.

"What is your wish?", I gulped.

William only smiled, before he held out his hand to me. After eyeing it for a few seconds, I raised my own hand to grab his. William gently laced his fingers with mine, before pulling me to my feet.

My eyes widened, as I realized how close we were. My chest pressed up against his and I felt how William gently put his arm around my waist.

What he did next surprised me. His movements were fast. With one swift motion, he sat back down on the sofa behind him. But he had pulled me with him, so that I had landed on his lap.

I gasped, as I felt his soft hands on my waist and his warm body beneath mine.

"William?", I whispered.

"This is my wish, Y/N,", he mumbled and raised a hand. He gently caressed my cheek.

"Just...say stop, if you're uncomfortable and I will stop.", William explained and closed his eyes. He leaned in closer, until his forehead rested against mine.

"It's okay.", I mumbled.

I watched as William opened his eyes again, but he was hesitant so I decided to help him. I raised my hands to rest on his shoulders to pull him closer. My left hand wandered to his tie, pulling him impossibly closer. William finally seemed to understand that I wanted this as much as him.

He overcame the last few inches between us and pressed his lips on mine.

I hummed against his lips. He was soft and unexperienced, but it still felt heavenly. One of his hands rested against my cheek, while his other hand pulled my body flush against his.

"Will...",I mumbled against his lips.

"Yes, my love?", he smiled, while his lips kept kissing the skin that was exposed to him. First my jawline and then my neck. He left a trail of featherlight kisses. My eyes closed at the pleasant feeling of his lips. This was something that I had never experienced before. The gentleness of his touch. His soft lips, his nimble fingers. It was Intoxicating.

A small moan escaped my lips, as William found my sweetpot. His lips kept traveling lower and lower, until he had reached the soft material of my dress. On the other hand I could feel his delicate touch on my thighs. His hands that pushed my dress up higher and higher, untill his hands comfortably rested on the exposed skin of my hips.

"William", I moaned again, "Shouldn't we...?"

William seemed to understand my hint, as he hoisted me up against his hips, his lips never leaving my skin. My arms closed around his neck, as he walked the both of us to his bedroom.

The last thought I had, before his bedroom door closed, was that hopefully, my grandfather didn't hear us. Or anyone else.

I awoke to the soft sunlight tickling my skin. My eyes fluttered open and once I had adjusted to the bright light, I realized where I was. It was William's room.

I wanted to turn around, but I realized that two strong arms were wrapped around me to keep me in place.

"A few more minutes", I heard William mumble against my neck. He pulled me closer against his chest.

"My grandfather will kill us", I mumbled and leaned into his embrace.

"He definitely will", William agreed. I could almost hear the smile on his face.

"It was worth it.",he admitted. His grip around me loosened a bit, so that I could turn around in his embrace.

He had finally opened his eyes, which were Intensely gazing at me now.

I raised me hand to gently comb through his messy hair. William sighed at my actions and let his eyes fall close again.

"It was worth it.", I finally agreed.

William opened his eyes and smiled. I felt how his hands wandered to my waist and he pulled me closer again. He planted a kiss on my forehead.

"I think it's better, if we tell my grandpa now.",I mumbled.

"Something tells me, he already knows", William chuckled.

"How come?", I asked perplexed.

"Darling", he smiled, "It was impossible to not hear us last night."

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sam-loves-seb · 4 months

Note

larry fucking seaver sounds like a hillarious fic to read and mama's boy gives off angsty vibes...at least for me

anyway I'd love to know more about them! I'm literally addicted to ur fics🤭

omg hi hello thank u for asking about my worksinthedocs post 💙 you're so sweet, i'm so glad you like my silly little stories

i'll tell you more about them under the cut

larry fucking seaver:

this one is a vignette style fic where it's just little scenes of mickey having to explain his life to larry and/or larry trying to help him in any way he can and mickey begrudgingly accepting it. like, it starts with larry driving mickey to the gallagher house after he gets released, and mickey has to explain to him that it's his boyfriend's house

(i'll give u a longer snippet of this one since i don't have much for the next one)

“So,” Larry pipes up just as some pop song on the car radio fades into a commercial. “It says here that…” He taps on the screen of his phone, reading something from where it sits in its little air vent clip on holder. “1955 South Trumbull is your address on file.” Larry glances over at Mickey. “Is that where we’re going today?” Larry fucking Seaver—of course he gets stuck with a goodie two shoes parole officer. Nothing could ever be easy, right? Mickey’s had parole officers before, most of them assholes, so he knows how to deal with the jerks, and the hard asses, and the fake tough guy routine he was expecting to get. Instead, he gets—whatever the fuck this guy is, and he doesn’t really know what to do with that. But that’s a thought for another time, because right now they’re passing under the L and turning into his old neighborhood, and the thought of going back to the house he was raised in makes his fucking skin crawl. “No. I don’t…” he trails off, the words dying on his tongue. He doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to face anyone or anything that might still be lingering between those walls, but he can’t say that. Not out loud, and definitely not to this walking pep talk of a parole officer he just met five minutes ago. “I don’t live there anymore.” “Not a problem, Mr. Milkovich—not a problem at all,” Larry reassures him, tapping his phone screen again after he comes to a stop at a red light. “I’ll just make a note in your file here… Okay! So—where to then?” Mickey hesitates. “North Wallace,” he says. “Take a left up here.” Larry lifts his hands from his phone with a small shrug, nodding to himself as he follows Mickey’s directions. “Okay.” They drive past Trumbull and Mickey doesn’t so much as turn his head to look down it. “Is this your house we’re heading to?” Larry asks, not skeptical, but… curious. Mickey sighs through his nose. “No.” “A relative?” Larry prompts, putting his blinker on and glancing over at Mickey again. “Or a friend, maybe?” And honestly, Mickey kind of hates this question, because this short answer would be yes—friend, lover, family, Ian’s been all of that to him and more for as long as Mickey can remember—but that’s not really the sort of answer Larry’s looking for, and Mickey doubts he could try and explain all that even if it was. He knows he never actually lived in the Gallagher house, not officially, not even technically, all those years ago, but right now that’s the only place Mickey wants to be. He doesn’t give two shits about the house, only cares about what’s inside—specifically, the tall redhead that still sleeps in the same twin-size bed he’s had since the fourth grade. Because the first thing most parolees do when they get out is go home, and, well—Ian Gallagher is the only real home that Mickey’s ever known. That’s a lot to reveal to a parole officer within the first hour of knowing him, Mickey thinks, but he figures he’s going to be seeing a lot of this guy, so he might as well be honest. Might as well get it all out in the open now. Mickey bites at the dry skin on his lip for a second before he finally says, “Boyfriend.” Larry doesn’t say anything. He blinks, then looks over at Mickey for a second too long. “It’s my boyfriend’s place,” Mickey says again, nails pressing into his palms as his hands curl into loose fists. “Well, his family’s. I guess.” For a moment it’s quiet, the only sounds coming from the steady flow of the air conditioning and some boyband singing on the radio. Mickey swallows. Larry taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Huh,” Larry says mostly to himself. Then, a little louder, “Okay.” Mickey’s jaw visibly relaxes, and his shoulders drop a few inches as they pull onto North Wallace. The corner of Larry’s mouth quirks up into a grin. Mickey notices.

there's lots of other little scenes too (some i've written, some i haven't yet), like larry getting mickey the job at old army, mickey telling larry he and ian broke up--then telling him they're engaged, larry wanting to see pictures from the wedding, mickey and ian starting the weed security business and how that works with their parole, etc. etc.

but yeah. that's larry fucking seaver.

mama's boy:

this one is newer and still in an outline phase but it's not super angsty?? like it is, but it has a happy ending

it's basically a what if story, like what if: mickey's mom didn't die, she just left when they were kids. what if she's still out there somewhere, and sometime post-canon she's finally clean and sober and wondering about the kids she left behind all those years ago so she's slowly tracking them down one by one, and she shows up at apartment 218 one day to find a tall redhead answering the door that allegedly belongs to her son.

and mickey looks like he's seen a ghost, because he just assumed she fucked off and died somewhere outside of chicago, and that's why she never came back. but now she's here. in their apartment.

and she's telling him that his roommate seems nice and mickey's brain is still trying to process the fact that his mom is alive and sitting on his goddamn couch and she knows absolutely nothing about him.

so he tells her.

and it takes a while for mickey to loosen up around her, but ian is so excited for him, for both of them, because he knows what it's like to lose a mother--one that leaves--and as much as he hated monica, he loved her too, and he misses her more than he cares to admit

so he's not going to let his husband throw away a chance to have his mom in his life. not until he knows her a little bit first.

idk i just thought it was a neat idea, so. we'll see where i go with that one.

thanks for the ask! if anyone wants to know more about any of the fics in my worksinthedocs list, feel free to send me an ask 💙

#i kinda forgot about larry fucking seaver before this #maybe i'll go back to that soon #ask sam

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caterpillarinacave · 2 years

Text

Natm people, I have had a thought:

Everyone knows that the historical timeline in NATM is shaky at best, and downright awful at worst, but whats always bothered me is how both Kahmenrah and Ahkmenrah could have been pharohs.

At first glance it seems pretty cut and dry: Kahmunrah was in line for the crown, but it skipped over him. Ahkmenrah got the crown even though he was the second born, Kahmenrah kills him and gets the crown. With Ahkmenrah dead he rules for a couple decades, maybe he is overthrown or something and he dies, no one has found his tomb yet.

But there are a TON of issues with this line of events.

The biggest issue is their parents. We know from NATM 3 that not only do they adore Ahkmenrah, but that they died after him. This begs the question: How on earth would Kahmenrah manage to become pharaoh after brutally murdering his little brother? I can hear some of you saying ”Well maybe he killed them all”. Well, my gruesome minded friend, that would raise the issue, what happened to Kahmenrahs body?

The version of him we see in NATM2 is some sort of replica since it doesn’t decay the way Ahkmenrah does in NATM3. *This not being his real body would also explained why its being so casually stored underground*

If Kahmenrah killed his whole family, surely he would not build them their own grand tomb, that caters specifically to the magic tablet, that he so clearly envy’s, but his tomb isn’t at all of note.

Well, maybe Shepseheret and Merenkahre disowned him and threw him out in the desert, when he killed Ahk. That makes sense right?

But alas, it doesnt.

For one thing, Ahk died when he was in his mid to late teens, and since Kahmenrah is shown to be about 40 years old, we can assume most of his rule was when he was middle aged. So that leaves a huge gap of time between his birth and Ahkmenrahs death. Even if Ahkmenrah was crowned as a young child, Kahmenrah would still be older.

Despite that gap, thats not a lot of time for Kahmenrah to build up a reputation as being a bloodthirsty villian ruler. If he killed Ahk, then was banished, he would have had what, a few days to rule?

So Kahmenrah could not have killed Ahkmenrah and ruled while their parents lived, but we know that Ahks parents, were alive when he was killed.

Originally I was just gonna let it go, but I have a theory.

What if Kahmenrah took the throne BEFORE Ahkmenrah.

Think about it:

Kahmenrah is born, and he is supposed to be the pharaoh.

He goes off to prepare to be pharaoh, and earns a reputation for being bloody and cruel, with little care for those around him.

He gets in fights, treats people horribly, and he ”drinks the blood of his friends and enemies alike”, but no one can really do anything about it because he is gonna be the pharaoh.

During this time Ahkmenrah is born, and he grows up sweet and kind, loved by everyone.

Well, it comes about time Kahmenrah gets to be pharaoh, and thinking he is invincible, he does something truly horrible.

So horrible everyone collectively decides he can not have the throne.

So, he doesnt get the throne. Instead they crown Ahk.

Kahmenrah, who probably had no strong feelings about his brother before now, is LIVID. He lost his throne to his younger brother, who everyone just loves. His status, that he's spent his whole life dangling above everyone else’s head, is gone.

So Kahmenrah murders Ahkmenrah.

Merenkahere and Shepeseheret are heart broken, and throw Kahmenrah out into the desert where he perishes, his remains lost in the sand. Merenkahre continues his rule until he dies of natural causes and the crown is passed to a different member of the royal family.

Essentially, this version of events would give Kahmenrah the time to build up his reputation, give an explanation as to what happened to his body, and explain how the parents fit into all this.

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minervadashwood · 11 months

Text

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 19

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Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

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Summary: A cabin in the woods, a fond memory, a drive to safety. This chapter contains: Angst, smut, regret, hope. Word count: 3.5K Note: Could not have written this chapter without the help of @green-eyedladywrites, @littlegodzilla, and @livingdeadblondequeen. Also, Daryl's attempt to find cell phone service is accurate--my parents live in a dead zone, middle of nowhere, and have had to do this on occasion.

Over and over, Daryl kept reliving the moment from yesterday. When you’d reached out to him and he’d pulled his hand away. The spark went out of your eyes, yet he didn’t stay with you. At the time, he couldn’t think straight. It was like the walls were caving in. Even your touch felt like being trapped. Yet what could he say? He could barely even get any words out, let alone try to explain something to you he himself didn’t understand. He just got like this sometimes. Like every sound too loud, every light too bright. The only way he felt better was to be alone and to separate himself from everything.

He’d gone into “his” room, and started throwing stuff into his pack. A couple of MREs, water purification tablets. If you tried to get to him, he didn’t notice. He focused on his crossbow, cleaning and oiling it; he checked all his bolts for balance and integrity. He went to sleep. Just before sunrise, he’d slipped into the nest, just enough to see you in there. You’d looked small on that big bed. He saw just your nose and eyes poking out from under the covers, but you were sound asleep. He’d locked up the doors behind him and left.

Right now, he wished he’d done it all differently. Wished he’d been sane enough to spend the night with you, patient enough to talk things out. Hell, he should’ve checked the weather forecast.

But he hadn’t, and now he couldn’t get to you, no matter how much he wanted to. Through the wind, rain, and lightning, he hiked to the family cabin--a one-room shack nestled in a valley, surrounded by trees and sitting on the only flat section of land for miles.

Inside, he dropped his gear and left the carcasses of two squirrels and a turkey he’d shot. His cloth poncho was soaked through, and so was most of his other clothing. The only dry parts of him were his feet. He’d spent part of his second paycheck on new winter gear, including the water-resistant footwear.

Just a bit ago, you’d connected with him through your bond, and he felt your fear and worry right away. If only he could be with you. But once he’d tried to let you know he was safe, he felt you calm down a little. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Despite the storm and the chill seeping into his bones, he couldn’t just sit down and start a fire. Guilt nagged at him. He should be with you, holding you close, huddled up in the basement of the nearest shelter and easing all your fears.

His weatherband radio began its alert cycle again, telling him to get to a secure shelter, if not underground then in an interior room. But Daryl stepped out on the rickety porch and began to climb the knoll behind the cabin. He watched the bars on his cell phone come and go, and he paced and wandered, eyes glued to them. When at last one bar held strong, he called you, but the call didn’t go through. He yelled at the sky and was met with only wind and rain.

Then the phone vibrated, once, twice, three times. Then messages appeared on the screen, one after another. They were all from you.

“Car wouldn’t start. Going to a shelter with Rick.”

“Please stay safe.”

“I miss you.”

His hands were wrinkled from being wet for so long, yet he managed to type a hurried reply: “At cabin. I’m ok. Stay with Rick. Do what he says.”

Knowing you were with his friend had Daryl breathing a little easier. Rick would know exactly what to do. Where to take you, how to keep you calm. Rick had told him about his job as an officer, not only de-escalating situations with criminals, but taking his duty as a designated alpha seriously and professionally. If Daryl or Merle couldn’t be with you, Rick was the next best thing.

But he still wanted to be there himself. He had a half a mind to get off this mountain and go to you, even if the roads were closed and possibly flooded.

His phone vibrated again. “I didn’t think you had service. Please stay safe!!! Stay inside, Daryl!! Promise me!””

Through your message and the bond, Daryl felt your desperation. He’d never had anyone worry about him like this. Being bonded to you had changed everything.

“Spotty service,” he typed. “Up on a hill.”

“Get back to shelter,” you sent. “I’m okay. We’re safe. Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

He replied, “I will. Love ya.”

He frantically locked his phone and ambled down the hill. He’d never said those words out loud, but it felt right to type them. Yet, after he’d hit send, his hands started shaking.

Once he was back down in the valley where the cabin sat, he got himself inside. The wind howled and rain pounded on the little wooden structure. Still, Daryl cleaned all the animals at the basin. Then, he took all his supplies down to the little root cellar. The radio didn’t work down there, and he could forget about any phone service. But this wasn’t the first time he was alone and waiting out a storm in this little walled-in place.

There was a thin bed mat and a musty sleeping bag piled up in a corner. A small window near the ceiling was shut tight, but there was a vent there, too, making sure he’d get fresh air from the floor above.

There was an old camping stove and a couple cans of propane. He’d carried down some water, too. And beer. The essentials.

Old magazines were stacked nearby, some Merle’s, some his, even some that the old man liked. If he got bored, he could read those, but for now, he sat on his makeshift bed, knees pulled up and his arms draped over them. He closed his eyes, conjuring up images of you: your smile, the way you looked in his tank tops (tight around your body, but hanging low past your hips), how you looked in the morning with your eyes puffy and hair askew. He missed you so much it ached in his chest and stomach. Not even worry or fear now, but just the pain of your absence.

Time wore on, and he’d half fallen asleep when a memory-turned-dream took him to a different place, a different time.

On the third day of your heat, he was dead asleep beside you. Waves had come and gone. After he’d claimed you, it all was just so much more, like his own desire got caught up in yours. There were times the two of you didn’t speak, your bodies so in sync that nothing needed to be said.

Still, both of you were exhausted. On that third day, he slowly woke up to find you already on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips, his cock buried inside you. Your breasts bounced as you moved, up and down, each descent drawing a quiet, breathy moan from your lips.

“‘Mega,” he groaned, voice rough from his dry throat. He gripped your hips and squeezed, and only then did you seem to notice him.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice hoarse. “Just go back to sleep…I…I couldn’t wait.”

Go back to sleep? With you riding him like a sex god?He sat up, pulling you with him so that you stayed on his cock and he could lean his back on the headboard.

Your legs trembled, and he slid his hands along the outside of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh there. Your nipples, hard and inviting, needed his touch, he ducked his head and took one into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue and bit it with his teeth. You moved faster, breathy moans now fully voiced, almost guttural.

Your forehead found the crook of his neck. “I didn’t expect it to be like this. Daryl, I can’t stop.”

He didn’t want you to. Each bounce sent wave after wave through him. His cock pulsed almost painfully as you moved. He couldn't remember being more exhausted, nor could he remember being this turned on. You wrapped your arms around him, surrounding him almost completely: your cunt on his cock, your body cradling his own.

He pressed his lips to your ear. “Take whatcha need, baby. Love you on my cock. Love the way you hold me.” He moved his hand from your thigh and gripped your shoulder. His thumb traced just below his mark. Your skin was raised and angry; the indentation of his bite so clear even in the dim light. His mouth left your ear and he licked the inflamed skin, soothing it, but at the same time causing you to clamp down tightly on his cock.

He wound his arms around you, hands spanning your upper back as you continued to ride him. His lips and tongue kissed and lapped at the mark, again and again, and each time you squeezed his dick and had him seeing stars.

“Ya like that, huh?” he murmured against your skin.

“Feels so good, Alpha. Don’t stop. Please.”

With one hand, he buried his fingers in your hair, and pulled your head back so you would look at him. “I’ll always give ya what ya need. Ya know that doncha?”

You closed your eyes, moaning, getting close.

He pulled on your hair, just a little. “Answer me,” he growled.

Your eyes shot open and looked into his own. “Yes, Daryl, yes!”

With a surge of energy, he pushed himself from the headboard, making you fall back onto the mattress. He took charge, pounding into you as you stared up at him, open-mouthed and breathless. Sweeping his thumb over his mark, he lowered himself above you, keeping his body up on one elbow.

His face was close to yours now, your noses brushing. “Then don’ ever say sorry for takin’ whatcha need, alrigh’?”

“Okay,” you replied, your voice so firm and sure.

“Tha’s my good ‘mega,” he whispered, kissing you. With a hard thrust, he filled you with his knot. You spasmed around his cock, and he came, too, with shallow thrusts that spurt his seed in your luscious body.

He kissed you again, gently, then he collapsed on top of you, his head resting on the bed beside yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and carded your hands through his hair. He was asleep in seconds. When he woke later, you were still beneath him, though his cock was no longer inside you. But you held him there, one hand buried in his hair and the other holding his hand.

He slipped out from under you, a bit of light making its way through the blackout curtains. From the kitchen he got a cold bottle of water and some cut strawberries. By the time he was back in the room, you were awake, rubbing your eyes and slouching on the middle of the bed.

“Drink,” he said, holding out the bottle.

“You too,” you murmured, but taking the water without protest. He set the bowl of strawberries next to you and went to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came out, with a washcloth. As you ate, he ran it over your thighs and around your vulva. If you felt at all like him, you’d be too tired to take a shower, but he could do this little bit to clean you up.

You pushed the bowl towards him. “Eat.”

His stomach rumbled and you grinned.

With a sigh, he complied, hanging the cloth nearby and sitting next to you. After he finished off the fruit, he got a protein bar for each of you and another water from the cooler. Moments of calm during your heat had been rare so far, so he savored the stillness.

He felt your hand on his shoulder. “You look so tired, Daryl.”

He was; he didn’t try to deny it.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve been on suppressants so long,” you went on. “It’s all so intense, so uncontrollable.”

“Hey,” he gruffed, looking at you to see you with your brow furrowed and a frown on your mouth. “I gotchu. Maybe it’s more than we expected, but not more than we can handle.”

You worried your bottom lip.

He picked up the empty containers and wrappers and tossed them in the wastebasket. Then he settled back in the nest, hauling you to him so that you were half lying on top of him.

“Ya trust me doncha?”

“Yes,” you sighed.

“We’ll get through this, you an’ me, ‘Mega. Can’t ya feel how much I want ya? How good it is to have ya takin’ my knot?”

“Daryl,” you whimpered, pressing your forehead to his chest.

“Sleep now, Bubbie,” he soothed. “You’ll get what ya need. Promise.”

Back in the cabin, Daryl curled his hands into fists. What he wouldn’t give now to just be next to you and not in this dank, dark cellar. To touch you and hold you, to wake up with you under him or over him, or just your head on his chest.

When all this was over, he would, he told himself. He’d never take that for granted again, never just leave you with barely an explanation. He knew now that would need his time alone, despite how much he loved you. But he’d do better at explaining it to you, from here on out.

Rick’s vehicle was an SUV from the sheriff’s office. It was filled with gadgets, like a car phone, a mounted laptop, switches and buttons for sirens and lights. Most concerning was the cage that separated the front from the back of the car.

You were wedged in the passenger seat, doing your best not to touch anything. You’d packed a bag, and Rick stowed it in the trunk, along with a bag of his own. You now wore a few layers of clothing. One of Daryl’s tank tops over your bra, a t-shirt of your own, a sweatshirt and your raincoat. Rain Boots and jeans made up the rest of your outfit.

Outside the car, the wind whipped everything around. Skeletal tree limbs waved to and fro. The landscaping Daryl had kept so neat was battered by the storm. You’d never seen anything like it. Nor had you ever been witness to any sort of natural disaster, especially one that would require you to go underground with complete strangers.

You trembled and held Daryl’s denim jacket to your chest. Rick started the engine, and you willed yourself not to panic. If you did, Daryl would know, and you didn’t want to worry him. In fact, you were going to do exactly as he said: stay with Rick; obey Rick.

It was a relief, you realized, to let yourself follow Daryl’s instructions. Without him here, you didn’t want Rick to leave your side. At the same time, guilt still plagued you. Was Ro right? The idea was far-fetched when he brought it up, but looking out the window as Rick drove to the highway, you started to give the notion some credence. It certainly wasn’t the end of the world, but a sudden, unseasonal hurricane had to indicate something.

Rick’s scent was all throughout the car, and unlike the other times you smelled him, you didn’t resist its influence. It felt safe, almost like home. You embraced the security the alpha and his scent provided. Grateful you were too anxious to give into your basest desires, you realized your hormones weren’t ruling over you as they sometimes did. What you needed now was just the protection and comfort of an alpha, not his kisses or his knot.

Still, your gaze wandered over to him. His hair curled at the ends, spiraling almost out of control. If it were any longer he’d be downright disheveled, but at this length, the hair made him appear rugged, just on this side of self control and decency.

He reached out and switched on a police scanner. His fingers were long and tapered, unlike Daryl’s thick ones. His hand was more slender than Daryl’s, too. You squirmsqurirmed in your seat, recalling how it felt to hold his hand, then how it felt to have his hands holding you.

You almost jumped in your seat as the noisy scanner squelched and beeped. Voices came and went, clipped, speaking in short, clipped messages, full of numbers and jargon you didn’t understand.

After a moment, Rick turned down the scanner and said, “Sounds like folks are getting to the shelters alright. Once we get to the nearest one, I’m gonna call Lori and check on Carl. She and Shane know what to do, but I’m sure he’s scared. Stuff like this is rough for him.”

How had that slipped your mind? Rick had a pup to look after. Yet here he was stuck with you.

You said, “Rick, you should be with your pup. Even if he’s okay, he needs his dad.”

“It’s her weekend…”

You squeezed your hands around Daryl’s jacket. “I don’t know how it all works with divorces and stuff, but surely she can make an exception.”

He ran his long fingers through his tousled hair. “The Lori I was married to would. Feels like I have no idea who she is now, what she wants or how she thinks.”

You longed to touch him, to squeeze his hand or lift the hair from his nape and thread your fingers through it.

You said, “What if we just go wherever they are? Even if he has to stay with his mom, you can see him and be there if he needs you. There’s no rule saying we can’t do that, is there?”

You stared at him as the windshield wipers tapped rhythmically and scattered squelches sounded softly from the scanner.

He blew out a long breath. “There’s two shelters closer than the one they’ll be at. I don’t want to keep you out in this storm longer than I have to.”

Your throat closed up, causing you to swallow thickly and take a few deep breaths. “Rick…I…” you squeezed your eyes closed and tried to get a grip. Was he thinking about you as a mate would? Or as a police officer would? Both seemed plausible, but the former was nearly unbearable to comprehend. Yet you wanted it that way. You wanted Rick to care about you as a mate would, as Daryl did.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Y’alright over there?’

You swiped at your eyes. “Yeah. I’m just worried about Daryl. And Carl. And you. I think we should go where your son is.”

“Look--”

“It’s fine, Rick. I promise. I won’t lie and say I’m not scared. But I didn’t have parents growing up, so I know what it’s like to be without them. I don’t want Carl feeling that way. Even if he has Lori and Shane, he’ll still want you there. I think that’s more important than how I feel.”

Rick felt his breath whoosh out of him. He turned the scanner completely off, finding himself almost disoriented. His eyes focused on the road, and he held tight to the steering wheel.

He wanted to touch you, so much that his palms ached to feel your skin against his. Daryl had never mentioned this part of your past; he’d only said you didn’t have any family to speak of. Rick had seen abandoned children, chaotic foster homes, apathetic adults who barely could keep a gaggle of children fed and clothed, let alone give them enough love and attention.

He imagined you small and lonely; he imagined you getting your designation and having no pack to help you through it. And yet you’d made it through such a painful childhood and become someone caring and strong. Smart, too.

The turn off for the closest shelter came and went, and he wasn’t sure who’d made that decision, you or him. Rick drove on As the miles passed, he breathed easier and loosened his grip on the steering wheel.

Eventually, he found his voice again. “Thanks, Bunny,” he told you. “You’re being real brave, and…I appreciate it.”

You cleared your throat. “It’s easy to be brave when I’m not alone. But I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. It’s not--”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he blurted. “I mean…with Daryl gone…I’m just glad I can help y’all out.”

“That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it?” you asked. From his periphery, he saw the faintest smile on your lips. “Helping people out in their time of need.”

A warmth suffused his cheeks, beneath his scruff, he turned red. “You think I became a cop for the uniform?” he deflected.

“Knowing you Southern boys, I bet it was for the big guns.”

Rick guffawed, laughing for the first time in recent memory. “Those are nice, too.”

You smiled beside him. “Bet Daryl’s guns are bigger.”

Rick grinned. “You haven’t seen mine yet. Wait until then before you make a comparison.”

“Alright, Deputy Grimes, you’re on. When all this is over, we can have a gun-measuring contest.”

“It’s a date, Bunny.”

Next chapter.

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nateriverswife · 2 months

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one night years ago, my friend and i ended up talking about peaky blinders and how we didn't like grace and thomas tbh because we didn't feel any chemistry between them and it was a pain. so we came up with a woman to take her place and i just found a draft of the fic i was supposed to write about her and never did and never will, but i really liked their dynamic here - under the cut.

I moved and started working at the pub. My goal was to forget the past and live my life in peace. I did not intend to start a new relationship, nor did I intend to have casual encounters. I simply wanted to forget my fiancé who died in the war, because I thought it was the best choice, but, of course, the more you try to run away from something, the more you find it everywhere…

And so it was with Thomas. The first time I saw him was on a Friday evening. The pub was already closed, and I was finishing cleaning the last tables. Grace had already left, so I was completely alone. I heard a knock at the door, thinking it was her who had forgotten something, but I was faced with Thomas Shelby, head of the Shelby family and leader of the Peaky Blinders. He had not expected to see me, because he thought they had only hired Grace, whom he had met that morning.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Laurie, um, the new cleaning lady," I replied, pointing also to the bucket full of water just a little further away.

He asked me if it was wet and if he could come in. I stepped aside, explaining to him that, by now, it was all dry, but anyway it wouldn't cost me anything to stay extra, moping.

"Really? Isn't the husband waiting for you at home?"

I flinched at those words, but tried not to let it show and to hold back the tears.

"The ring on my finger." He added.

I shifted my gaze to it and hid it from view. "There is no husband."

"Then why do you wear it? To discourage possible suitors?" He asked with a smirk. "Brilliant."

He sat down at a table, still with his eyes on me. His smirk ceased almost immediately when he noticed that I did not respond to his banter. He frowned as I tried to wipe his face from my mind and the tears from my eyes.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked, trying to change the subject, but although he told me he wanted whisky, he couldn't shake my complete lack of response so much so that, when I brought him the glass, he resumed speaking on the subject.

"Was it your grandmother's, mother's, sister's?"

I shook my head and poured the liquid into his glass.

"Wife?" He continued, as I put the bottle back in its place on the shelf.

"No…" I had the strength to whisper, as tears flowed in streams and I tried to wipe them away as fast as I could, so as not to show myself in that pitiful state.

"Did you steal it?"

I wanted to answer, but I was more preoccupied with killing the sob that was trying so hard to get out and finally won and echoed throughout the room.

"What a bad first impression, innit?" I managed to joke, just to smooth things over, but I didn't turn to look at him, out of embarrassment.

The idea that he was from one of the most dangerous gangs and that he was now in the presence of a defenceless and mentally weak woman made me more distressed than ever. I had never lived in such a place, where women were treated like objects, but I had to escape from my old life and this was the farthest place possible, where I could not see him in anyone, even though no one could've ever been him.

"How did he die?" He asked, after a few seconds of stony silence.

"In the war. In France." I replied. "He wasn't my husband. He should have been, though."

I only corrected him because I didn't want him to keep calling him like that, and remind me of what I had lost. It hurt enough without that addition.

"I would never have done that. It's asking for a tragedy to happen."

Soon, my sadness turned to anger, and I turned sharply, finding Thomas across the counter.

"How do you know? Have you ever loved anything?" I asked, stepping forward. "I may not have been in town long, but many women know your name."

"Everybody knows my name."

"You know what I mean." I retorted. "It's not his fault."

"I have never said it was. I'm just saying it's stupid."

"Loving someone to the point of wanting to be with them for life?"

"Making a promise before going to war." His cold tone made me shiver. "You'd better take it off so you don't risk crying in front of the customers. They like them vulnerable."

After saying this, he left the pub without giving me a chance to reply.

#he is such an asshole and i love him for that #i have never finished peaky blinders. not even season one but i wonder if i nailed his character tbh #d.exe

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iheartcake123 · 1 year

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Hello I was wondering if you could write a fic about Kim cheol-soo from all of us are dead? I don’t see any content about him at all and I thought he was pretty cute in the show. If you can maybe some fluff and him saving the reader from the zombies? I completely understand if it’s to much to ask. Have a good day ^^

hii, here’s your request <33 im sorry it’s taken so long but i finally got around to finishing it off :)) enjoy!!

☁️rooftop-kim cheol-soo☁️

warnings: zombies

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you limped as you made your way up the stairs to the rooftop. you didn’t know how you’d made it so far but you must’ve had a guardian angel as you’d always escape danger just in time.

however, now you were struggling. zombies were closely catching up and you just wished that the roof top door was unlocked for when you got there.

“get off me!” you cursed using your good leg to kick a zombie away as it attempted to grab at your leg and drag you down.

thankfully it had worked and you managed to continue to the rooftop. when you got to the top unfortunately, the door was locked so you started to desperately push your body into the door while yelling in case someone was on the roof.

“help! is anyone on the roof? please” your voice towards the end was a whisper.

you thought this was your end.

“please! if anyone is there open the door!” you pleaded as you then began to prepare yourself for your end.

as you closed your eyes, ready for the zombies to rip into you. however, instead you felt an arm roughly pull you backwards.

when you opened your eyes, you realised you were on the rooftop. the rooftop door was blocking the zombies from getting to you and stood right in front of you was cheol-soo.

you recognised him from your science class. you’d both been paired up on projects before and were casual hi and bye friends. you weee so glad to see him.

“cheol-soo!” in an instant you wrapped your arms around him and he awkwardly hugged you back as tears began to fall from your eyes.

“thank you so much, there’s so many of them and they almost- god thank you so much” you explained, relieved that he had saved you.

“it’s-its okay, you’re not hurt are you?” he pulled away from the hug and you wiped your eyes dry as best as you could.

“my leg” you pointed to your swollen ankle “i twisted my ankle after falling up the stairs”

he starred down at your ankle and almost gasped. it was a bad.

“sit here” he then helped you to one of the corners of the rooftop where you sat leaning against the wall.

when you sat down, that’s when everything suddenly hit you. you started to process everything.

“this can’t be happening” you whispered in disbelief.

“huh?” cheol-soo knelt down beside you.

“this can’t be happening. z-zombies should only be in movies..not in real life. i mean how did this all start and what about my- oh my god my family” your eyes began to tear up and cheol-soo placed a hand on your leg.

“im sure they’re all fine. try not to think about it, you need to rest” he then awkwardly moved his hand to your cheek, rubbing small circles which brought you immense comfort.

after doing this for a couple of seconds he then stood back up.

“im just going to finish up this sos sign” he said before walking over to the scrap wood and metal that was in a pile.

with a nod you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable but, nothing seems to work. the wall was too hard, it was too cold and every little sound made you flinch.

with a sigh you opened your eyes again to see cheol-soo adding the final pieces of the sign to complete it. you attempted to stand up but after putting even just a bit of pressure on your ankle, your body fell bad to the floor with a thud.

when cheol-soo heard this, he immediately went to check on you.

“try not to move, you need to rest” he complained looking down at your ankle again.

“i know, i just can’t sleep. it’s freezing and every sound just puts me on alert mode. not to mention the wall isn’t comfy” you pouted “actually would you be able to sit next to me, i’d feel safer. it’s okay if you don’t want to but i just thought..”

you didn’t know how to finish your sentence and you looked away from cheol-soo who now let out a shy smile.

“of course i can” he nodded his head and positioned himself next to you.

you let out a smile and slowly rested your head on his shoulder and curled up into his arm as his warmth radiated on to you.

“you’re so warm, thank you” you smiled happily closing your eyes and cheol-soo rested his head onto yours.

a huge smile on his face as both of you enjoyed each others company in what felt like the end of the world.

#kdrama imagine #all of us are dead #writing #all of us are dead imagines #all of us are dead fic #kdrama x reader #all of us are dead x reader #aouad imagines #aouad x reader #kim cheol soo #cheol soo x reader #cheol soo imagine

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earninganincomplete · 3 months

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Venti Latte

Summary: You are out on a date with Venti, and her mood seems off, somehow.

Rating: G

Characters: Unnamed Builder, Venti

Pairing: Venti/you

A/N: For some reason I decided to do second person present tense.

Venti normally had plenty to say, but that night she only occasionally pipes up to share her thoughts. You don’t like to talk much, so it's slightly uncomfortable trying to lead the conversation.

At first, you assume she’s had an especially tiring day salvaging. Even with the best possible tools, it’s intense, physical work. She usually seems to draw energy from the garbage she sifts through, but tonight is an exception.

“Venti, are you all right?” Maybe she’s sick.

“Oh!” She immediately brightens, but there’s a plastic fakeness to it. “I’m great! Sorry. I don’t know where my head is!”

“If you’re tired, let’s just call it early.” It’s a shame, since you’re both so busy.

“No, no! Please don’t.” She reaches across the table and grips your arm. “I don’t want that. Can’t we just sit together? I’m sorry I’m not my usual chipper Venti self.”

You rest your hand on hers. “You don’t have to be. Just be yourself, okay? I was just worried you were coming down with something.”

“Peach, I hope not,” she says. “Nah, I’m just. I don’t know. Thinking. ‘Bout stuff maybe I shouldn’t.”

“And you don’t want to talk? That’s okay.”

She stares at your hand on hers, biting her lip.

You don’t know her as well as you want to. You’ve been dating for seasons, now, but you are both working so hard, it feels like you are still just a little better than acquaintances. You want everything, but all you have are scraps.

You wish life wasn’t so hectic, and that your work was just important, and not necessary like it is at the moment. Sandrock is bleeding out and you are part of the medical team struggling to keep its heart beating.

You need a vacation.

“I guess I’m just kind of worried,” Venti says, quiet.

With the way your thoughts are turning, you assume you know what she means. “About the water,” you say.

“No, I—” she breaks off, laughing. “Well, yeah! Pile that on too, I guess.” She sighs and retrieves her hand. “Can we go? Someplace quiet? I really want to see the stars right now. If that’s okay.”

You nod, and the two of you head out of the Blue Moon, hand in hand. She takes you to one of the higher points near your workshop, and you both lay down on the rocks and sandgrass.

The sky is clear; the stars bright. Sometimes dark shapes flutter across the moon. Clouds seem to race to escape the dry air of the desert. You can’t remember if it’s been two or three seasons since the last rain.

“I lied to you,” Venti says. “I just wanted to be close to you so bad, but…” she trails off.

“Is this about when we snuck in to the salvage yard? You know that didn’t bug me. I was just worried about you.”

“No, it’s not – well, maybe. Partially. I just – it’s so hard to explain what’s it’s like, you know? What everything was like for me, before Sandrock. I’m so happy here, but it all feels so fake, sometimes.”

“Does it?” You struggle to think what she means. You want to fix what’s making her miserable. You’ve always struggled with how some problems had to be “fixed” with sitting and listening, not by doing. If Venti needs a chair or a better axe to solve her problems, you’d help in a flash.

“I just had these dreams, you know? Getting to have a house someplace that’s not a dumpster. Having a job that pays good. Maybe running a business of my own. Meeting someone great and they’d be…” She covers her face with her hands. “Someone like you! And it is so great, better than I imagined. Even without the house and kids and a little cafe where I can stand behind the counter and wash mugs and talk to customers. I’m still happier now than I ever thought I would get to be.” She pulls her hands away from her face and smiles. Her eyes are wet. “I have such a big family, now! Pebbles calls me Auntie Venti and Krystal always wants to help me pick out clothes for when we go out, and, and – there’s you.”

She sniffs. You fumble to find a cloth, and eventually pull a scrap piece out of your pocket she can wipe her eyes on.

“I kind of love you,” she says. “And them. And all the people in town, even!” She blows her nose loudly on the cloth. “And the only reason I get to be here instead of someone else is ‘cause I’m a liar.”

“Maybe you’d feel better if you were honest with me about it, at least?” You’re still not sure what she’s talking about. “I can’t say I won’t be mad, but I can’t imagine ever hating you.”

“That’s what you say now.” She sighs. “But, okay.” She sits up and leans back on a rock outcropping.

A gust of wind sends sand scattering. You worry there will be a sandstorm soon, but right now it’s just pretty when the moonlight hits the particulates.

“I already told you how I got into school that one time, right? And then I used some weird stuff they said there to impress Rocky and get this job.”

“I don’t think he cares.” He had probably already guessed that Venti wasn’t a financial expert. “He knows you’re a hard worker. He told me himself you’re one of the best.”

“Did he? Aw! That’s sweet. I think if I don’t mess up again, my job will be okay. It’s actually...something else I’m trying to figure out how to talk about. I think I just want you to understand me. And like how everything good I have is ‘cause I’m a sneaky liar.”

“Everything I have right now is because my parents helped me at the start,” you say. “You didn’t have someone who could do that for you.”

“That’s what I always told myself, too! 'Venti, if you’re going to have anything, you have to take it!' Everything was free in the garbage dump. Because it was worthless. I didn’t want that. To be worthless forever. I can’t feel guilty about doing what I had to. To eat real food every day and sleep in an actual bed and not have to worry about clouds of noxious fumes from the garbage making me feel sick all the time. I can’t feel bad about it. Even if Rocky and everyone is so nice and so good to me now. I just can’t.”

“You shouldn’t. Do you?”

“Not as much as I should if I was a good person.” She flings her arms in the air and makes a frustrated noise. “I know I’m not making sense! I’m sorry.” She settles down. “That’s not even what I wanted to tell you. You know that already.”

You set your hand on her calf and squeeze. You’re still on your back. “Just say it.”

“I know.” She rubs her forehead. “I know! Okay. It’ll be fine, Venti.” She grits her teeth and braces against the rock. When she speaks again, it’s in a rush of words. “I don’t like yakmel milk!”

You think you misheard. “Pardon?”

“I don’t hate it! But it’s just kind of weird tasting and I don’t like it! I wish everyone would stop giving it to me. But I lied! I lied to you and everyone and said I liked it! That I loved it!”

“What? Why?”

“So you’d like me! Rocky likes milk; the other salvagers like it – all the real Sandrockers like it. I thought if I said I didn’t want any, everyone would stop wanting to hang out with me.” She’s tearing up again. “I just wanted to belong somewhere that wasn’t a trash bin. I didn’t want anyone to go, ‘oh, you want to invite Venti? She’s so boring and she never wants to get drinks with us.’”

“You could just drink something else, couldn’t you?” It strikes you that you’re trying to logic your way out of an emotional issue, again. You’re not even trying to fix the right problem. “I don’t think they’d be like that. I figured out you weren’t that into milk when I saw how you looked at me whenever I gave you some. I saw the difference when I got you coffee. Your face would just light up.” You finally sit up, too, so you can look at her properly. She’s beautiful. “I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Covered in dirt, tear tracks on her face, a wad of scrap cloth in her hand – you want to kiss her every time you see her. You think it’s the bright light in her eyes that makes her so beautiful. Even when she’s upset you can see it glimmering. That strong, indefatigable hope. She’d been born at the bottom of the world, seeing sky in cracks between mountains of garbage. The sky was open to her now. You never wanted to see that light go out.

“I know,” she says, quiet. “I know you want to...be with me, now. But I feel like I tricked you. Into this. Because I wanted to be like you, or with you, or...both?”

“I think I could’ve cared for you, even if you told me right away you didn’t like milk.”

She snorts. “I know it sounds stupid. I know that.”

“Even if you had to trick me to get to know you. I’m glad you did. I’d want you to do it again.”

“It’s not just the milk, though,” she admitted. “It’s everything. The milk’s just, like, the obvious thing. Sometimes I’m not that optimistic or cheerful about things. But I pretend I am. Because I can’t do anything else. I’m so...I’m so, so scared this crisis or the next one is going to ruin everything. Rocky will have to close shop and we’ll all move. I have a real job to put on my resume now, so I’m not worried about finding more work, anymore. But I love this place. These people. Even if they don’t know me or like me, I care about them. I don’t want this all to go away. It feels like home here.”

You sidle over so you can put your arm around her. “I’m scared, too.”

“Oh no! You too? You’re always so confident. And at least you can help do something about all these things that keep happening, unlike me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I lie sometimes, too. This was just a contract job, but the longer I'm here, the more I want to live here the rest of my life.”

“Yeah. It’s really good, isn’t it? Like, good good.” She buries her head in her knees. “Everyone says it’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t feel okay.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to be confident around me all the time. Good job, Venti. I know you’re a person and not, like, just someone for me to look up to.”

You nod. “When I’m working, it’s easy to be confident. So I’m not constantly afraid. But I feel it too, that same fear you do. I think that fear is more what makes you a Sandrocker right now than what you drink.”

She rests her weight against you. “It’s that we care, right? Listen to me! Acting like I’m from here, or something.”

“If you were just worried about the future, I’d say you could come back and live with me and my parents until I signed another contract. I’m sure wherever I went next would have salvaging work.”

“You’d want me to go with you?”

“I know it’s pretty early for that, but, yes. I would.”

“That does make me feel better, actually.” She knocks against your shoulder. “I would miss Rocky and Krystal and little Pebbles and Fei and even Peck...oh! And Amirah and her brother at the shop and Owen is always so nice to me and everyone. I wish we could stay with everyone forever, right here.”

“It could work out,” you say.

“But it’s too much about luck, right? Who knows when a big disaster will be too big to come back from.”

“Hey. Maybe it’ll be good luck, next time.”

“Maybe. I must be worried because I’ve been feeling too lucky lately. I’m so happy right now.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry I lied. Even if I’m not sorry if it made you like me.”

“I’m sorry I lied,” you say. “Unless it was the only reason you wanted to be my friend.”

“It’s not,” she says. She laughs. “You’re real pretty, too.”

You smile at that. “We didn’t have to worry, did we? Not about being friends. Because we’re both so beautiful.”

“Beautiful people like us are always attracted to each other! We’re like magnets.”

You nod. After a brief silence, you continue, “Let’s be more honest from now on.”

“Well, I’ll do my best.”

“Me too,” you say. You found yourself less concerned about the current crisis. If this place ends up not being able to be home, maybe Venti can be one with you.

But you aren’t going to give up on this place, either.

She looks up at you, finally meeting your eyes. She takes a deep breath, grabs the sides of your face with the palms of her hands, and pulls you towards her, into a kiss. The wind picks up and the air is sharply cool against your bare skin. Her hands and lips are warm and all your anxiety and hope fades away into the moment.

#mtas #mtas venti #fanfic #my time at sandrock

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traveleroffarawayplaces · 1 year

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The Tales of the Hero of Wind.

I got a bunch of lu (wind) prompts here, so I'm just going to throw a bunch of words on this and lets see how this turns out!

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"And so, they were finally free to wander the world in peace." Wild finished, waving his hands as he sat by the fire.

Four let out a sound between a whimper and a cry quietly.

Wind smiled. "Thats a nice story, but let me tell you one even better. You see, there's there was this phantom ship, one which held numerous treasures within. Tetra and I, along with the crew, started to board the ship and steal all of it's treasures..." Wind enthusiastically explained, painting the scene with hand gestures.

Time stared at the small hero as he spoke with so much thrill, causing Wild to be leaning forward in his seat.

Legend leaned over to Warriors, watching as Wind captured the rest of the heroes in his story. He whispered "How much do you think this is real..?"

Warriors took a second, before blinking at Legend. "What? I'm sorry, Wind is telling a really good story."

Legend blinked, turning to stare at Wind. How much of his stories are true...?

Wind coughed, a ragged dry cough. His throat felt dry as a desert.

He shivered, glancing over at the rest of the heroes as Wild stirred the cooking pot, probably making soup for him.

Suddenly, a heavy weight fell on this shoulders and he glanced up, seeing blue in the corner of his eyes. He looked at the strange item wrapped around him. It was Warrior's scarf. He glanced at Warriors, blinking at how odd it was seeing him without his scarf.

"Wha-?"

Warriors shrugged. Then waved it off. "Keep it, I can get it back once you're feeling better. I've always seen it as a good luck charm, maybe it can bring good luck to you by curing your sickness." He strolled off towards Four at the far side of camp.

Wind shivered, burying his face into the warm, comfortable scarf.

I'm so taking this once I get better. Its so nice and soft...

A battle raged around him, and Wind ducked and slashed at monsters. He sliced the bokoblin he was fighting, black blood spilling across the ground. His gaze snapped up and searched for his compantions, friends, and family. He saw Wild, shooting arrows at top speed, Hyrule, causing.. Was that lightning? to strike every so often. Sky and Warriors were fighting back to back. Time and Twilight surged against the horde. Legend and Four were no where to be seen.

"LEGEND! FOUR!!" Wind called out, desperately searching for them in the horde.

Legend head popped up, swimming through the crowd. Wind sighed a breath of relief at seeing him, but his heart clenched in fear with no sight of Four.

Wind ducked as a Moblin clawed at where his head was mere moments before. He searched the area, keeping an eye out for the shortest hero and his very colorful outfit.

As he dodged the moblin, he noticed a darknut closing in on a very familiar multicolored tunic.

Four! His mind thought and he frantically shoved past monsters. Rushing to go save his brother. He neared and shoved his sword through the darknut's stomache, slicing its armor and itself in half. It crumbled to dust as he rushed over to where Four lay.

"Four?! Four!" Wind shook Four, his mind panicking when Four didn't respond.

Wind did a quick check, noticing a wound on the smithy's head. Knocked unconscious? I always forget that the Smithy is more prone to head injuries. Wind sighed in relief as he felt the constant pulse of his brother.

He stood stance over Four's prone body, ready to defend him until his final dying breath.

"Hey Wind, did you know in my Hyrule, that you can stop time and go into another dimension that shouldn't exist? I call it the 'title screen'." Twilight told Wind. Wind gasped, staring at Twilight in awe. "Thats so cool! Can I see it?"

It all started out when Wild made a joke about being able to fly by using explosives. Wind had believed him. They were trying to push it and see what limits existed.

As far as they know, there is none.

"Hey Wind, I once had to fight the moon." Time piped up.

Wind blinked at Time. "Really? Amazing!!!"

Four blinked at Time. "If you fought the moon, and destroyed it, wouldn't that have destroyed your world? I mean.. Tides, and gravity..."

"Shhhh Four. No one knows the concept of science ye-... Wait... How do you..." Wild stared at Four, his eyes wide.

Four just snickered and didn't respond.

"Whose Hyrule is this?" Time asked, and the 7 other heroes all made noises of disagreement, signaling that this wasn't any of their Hyrules.

"I hate water." Legend muttered as he stared at the open abyss of water.

"I saw we explore the land. Maybe we can find more mainland that way?" Wild suggested, pointing in the opposite direction of the sea.

"No, will not work. I think we're on an island." Sky called from where he landed in a tree.

"Who are you?!" A voice called out and a small, blonde haired child came running out of the forest. Waving a sword and sheild, they also had a bow on their back.

"Hey, little one. We're lost. Do you have any directions or a boat we could use? Also, if you have any information, is there a hero in the land?" Time asked, his shoulders relaxing realizing that the child was no threat.

"Why are you looking for me?!" The child exclaimed, holding the sword defensively.

"That's the hero?" Legend muttered to Hyrule. Hyrule just shrugged.

"You are Link?" Time questioned.

The small child hero paused a quick moment before nodding.

Four strolled right up to them. "Finally! Someone my size! Hi! Okay, this is going to sound odd, but we're the past heroes. I'm Four, the armored one is Time, Wild is the one hanging upside down from the tree, Sky is the one on the tree, Warriors is the one with the blue scarf who is arm wrestling Twilight, and that's Hyrule and Legend." Four said, pointing to each one.

"Well uhh.. You can call me A-I mean Wind?" The new hero said, stuttering slightly as he stared at Time in awe.

(He? They? Four couldn't tell.)

"I assume thats your hero titles right?" The little hero, newly dubbed Wind, asked.

Time nodded. Wind gasped in awe.

"You're the hero of time?! That's amazing! So cool!!" Wind cheered.

"Ahh, so another hero after Time." Legend scratched his neck.

Twilight snickered at the young hero's enthusasim.

***

Three swaps and Four could say that the new hero was off.

They had no idea how or what was wrong, but something was just off about Wind. As they landed in Wind's time again, they were stuck on an island out in the middle of no where.

"This is my Hyrule!" The young hero cried, their hazel eyes gleamed as they surveyed the water.

"Ugh, I hate water." Legend groaned next to Four.

A boat sailed far in the distance, ever slowly coming closer.

Wind smiled, waving his hands excitedly as the boat neared.

A tanned head with curly blonde locks stuck out over the side and peered at them, her eyes narrowing seeing Wind. They vanished quickly.

What was that about? Four wondered.

As the boat stopped, a young tanned girl from before (the one who peered at them), hopped down and pointed a sword at Wind.

"Who are you imposter." They said in a serious tone, and the rest of the chain reacted, their hands instinctively going towards their swords.

"Imposter?" Legend asked, facing Wind curiously. "What does that mean Wind?"

"Uhm." Wind was clearly panicking, his eyes glancing back and forth between the chain and the girl.

Another person landed slid down and walked up next to the girl, he was very familiar, as he looked exactly like Wind. "Uhm, Tetra, what is going on?"

"This is an imposter Link!" Tetra cried, her sword creeping closer to Wind.

"I'm sorry, I think we got on the wrong foot. You said your name is Link from this timeline? Then is there two heroes?" Time asked, clearing his throat. "We are the past heroes, and we've been traveling with Wind over here."

"Wind... wait ARYLL?!" Link cried, moving forward and putting his hand on Tetra's sword lowering it.

"I didn't want to lose you again big brother... I'm sorry." Wind, Aryll? said, frowning at the sand.

The real hero of Wind hugged Aryll.

"Could someone explain what is going on..?" Hyrule asked, scratching his neck.

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mysticstarlightduck · 11 months

Text

This or That Tag Game:

I was graciously tagged by @lyutenw for this game, and invite anyone who would like to participate to do so!

HISTORICAL OR FUTURISTIC?

I truly have a thing for worlds inspired by medieval, ancient, and Victorian settings, and though I truly adore science fiction in all its forms, it seems that the historical genre will always be my favorite to actually write.

OPENING OR CLOSING CHAPTER:

Both honestly. Finding the right first line for a chapter is just as challenging as discovering in what way should that chapter come to a close, and I love them both. When done right, both are really compelling to write!

LIGHT AND FLUFFY OR DARK AND GRITTY:

While I like a good lighthearted scene myself and believe they are extremely important to any plot, writing darker or grittier things always seems to come easier to me - and I think that the world of my main WIP The Last Wrath makes that very clear, lol. However, I hate it when the darkness and grittiness are too drawn out, and even in the darkest scenes I would like to see that there is at least a glimmer of hope in the future - otherwise it gets far too depressing to read or write about. There has to be a balance between them both, but the latter is often the overall vibe of the settings for my works.

ANIMAL COMPANION OR FOUND FAMILY:

Found Family! While I like a good animal companion and there are some in my works, found family will always be my personal favorite to write, read and watch! It comes very easily to me, in a way that writing an animal companion does not - while I still love that trope dearly.

HORROR OR ROMANCE:

Both. My favorite writing genres are dark or gothic fantasy, as you probably can already tell from my WIPs, and that comes with its own elements of horror, mystery, and fear. But all my stories contain romantic arcs, as I find that those - amongst other things - help balance out a bit of the darkness that comes along with the genre.

HARD MAGIC OR SOFT MAGIC:

Soft Magic. I like being able to weave magical elements into my stories without getting too caught up in having to explain how they work or the hard rules of it. While there is a magic system in my WIP, it is definitely a soft magic one. It is much easier for me as a writer to keep the plot and character arcs moving for me if I don't have to keep explaining or remembering detailed technicalities that come along with hard magic systems.

ONE PROJECT AT A TIME OR JUGGLING TWO PROJECTS:

I always have one main project at a time, to which I know how to direct my focus, but I have some smaller projects that I dabble in for fun in moments when I need to write something else. It helps keep my ideas fresh and my flow of thought clear without mixing up the vibes or outlines.

ONE AWARD WINNER OR ONE BEST SELLER:

.... maybe both... who knows... (:

FANTASY OR SCIENCE FICTION:

As said in the first question, my number one favorite will always be fantasy with historical inspirations or elements when it comes to the things I actually write down, though science fiction is something I deeply adore and takes a very, very close second place.

LOVE TRIANGLE IN ANYTHING OR NO ROMANTIC ARCS:

None of these options. I am extremely lukewarm in love triangles, and I always feel the need to add one or more romantic arcs to my stories, even if that is not the main type of relationship in focus in the book at hand.

CONSTANT SANDSTORMS OR RAINSTORMS:

Please.... constant rainstorm. I despise dry weather and sandstorms are a nightmare to write about in any way, especially if they are constant, so rainstorm - my beloved - it is.

Tagging (happily) @lassiesandiego @sam-glade @writernopal @rickie-the-storyteller @clairelsonao3 @elshells @gummybugg

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 2 years

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Nail Polish

Word Count: 1013

Rating: Gen

Paring: familial LAMP, Royality with Logan and Virgil as the kids

Warnings: none, just familial fluff

~~~START~~~

“Daddy?”

Roman looked up from his screen (where the cursor had been mocking him with its endless blinking; he was having trouble figuring out how to transition to the next scene and it’d killed all of his writing momentum) to find his older son peeking into his office through the half-opened door.

“Yes, my little bookworm?” He asked warmly, saving his document — he hadn’t been getting any writing done anyway. “What’s wrong?”

Logan didn’t reply, instead he shuffled across and reluctantly held his hand out for Roman to inspect.

“Oh,” Roman said, taking in the short, jagged, and uneven nails. “The lemon juice didn’t work then?”

“Nuh uh,” Logan shook his head, tearing up slightly.

“Oh, hey,” Roman said gently, pulling Logan into a hug. “Don’t cry, starlight, we’ll try something else. How about I paint your nails? Do you want to try that?”

“I dunno,” Logan whispered into his shoulder.

“How about we try it out, and if you don’t like it, we can remove it and try something else?”

“‘Kay.”

“Here,” Roman sat the nine-year-old down at the kitchen table before making his way to his bedroom, emerging a moment later with his nail polish case. “You pick a color, and I’ll get the rest of the supplies ready.”

“Okay.”

Roman unlatched the case and watched for a moment as Logan set to studying every color very seriously. Then he went back to the bathroom and grabbed the nail clippers, cotton balls, and other things he would need. When he got back to the kitchen, Logan had — unsurprisingly — selected a dark indigo.

“Is that the color you want?” Roman asked, setting the supplies down on the table and placing a bowl of warm water in front of Logan.

Logan nodded.

“Great, put your hands in the water so that your nails are all submerged, and when they’re nice and soft I’ll clip them all even and straight, okay?”

Logan nodded again and did what he was instructed.

A few minutes later, Roman was applying the second coat of indigo to his son’s fingers.

“Do you like it?” He asked as Logan inspected the hand he was not currently working on.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded, turning his fingers this way and that to see them from different angles.

“You know what might make them even better?”

“What?”

Roman grinned, he was certain that Logan would like his idea. “How about I paint some stars on them?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, we’ll let this dry a little, and then I’ll add some stars.”

Just then the door from the garage opened and a very small boy carrying a very large grocery bag full of cans came in, followed by a much larger man carrying about five grocery bags in each hand.

“Do you need some help there, Virge?” Roman chucked, placing Logan’s hand flat on the table, so that he wouldn’t smudge the polish, and screwing the cap back on the polish bottle.

“I can do it!” The six-year-old huffed, the bag making a clank-clunk as he struggled to hold it above the ground.

“You’re doing great, sweetie!” Patton praised, placing his own bags on the kitchen counter with ease. “And what have you two been up to?”

“The lemon juice didn’t work, so we’re painting Logan’s nails,” Roman explained, preening as his husband leaned down to greet him with a kiss.

“They’re very pretty, Lolo!” Logan smiled at the praise.

“Mine next!” Virgil demanded, having finished dragging his bag to the counter and barreled into Roman’s side. “Daddy, paint mine next!”

Patton smiled and turned back to putting away the groceries.

“Sure thing, shadowling,” Roman smiled, ruffling his younger son’s dark curls. “Pick out a color, roll your sleeves up, and stick your hands in the water while I finish Logie’s.”

“‘Kay!”

Roman checked Logan’s polish and found it to be dry enough to start adding stars. He added stars mostly randomly, but on Logan’s thumbs he painted the Big and Little Dippers.

Virgil selected a nice purple, and asked Roman to add spider webs “but not the spiders because papa’s afraid of spiders!”

“Got time for one more?” Patton asked as Roman finished applying the last of the topcoat to Virgil’s nails.

“I always have time for you, my love!” Roman professed, making Virgil fake gag. “What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” Patton giggled.

“Logan, can you bring me my sleep mask from my room, please,” Roman requested, he already had an idea of what he wanted to do.

When Logan got back, Patton slipped the sleep mask — red silk outlined with black lace and the words “Beauty Queen” embroidered across the eyes — over his own eyes, and placed his hands in the water while Roman took their kids to the other room to confer with them. Both kids were completely on board with Roman’s plan, so he quickly came back and got to work on Patton’s nails.

Both kids were hovering over Roman’s shoulders while he worked, but they luckily didn’t give Patton any spoilers.

“Close your eyes,” Roman ordered as soon as the polish was dry. Once Patton confirmed that his eyes were closed, Roman slipped the sleep mask off his face. “Aaaaand open!”

“Oh!” Patton gasped, fighting the instinct to clutch his hands to his face since that would prevent him from looking at his nails.

Roman had painted all the fingers on his left hand the same indigo as Logan with each finger having a white letter on it: L-O-G-A-N. His right hand was purple with V-I-R-G-E in black.

“I love it!” He gushed, pulling both of his sons in for a hug. “A tribute to two of my favorite people done by my other favorite person!”

“You really like it?” Virgil asked, burying himself in Patton’s arms.

“I do, sweetie.”

“Can we paint daddy’s nails?” Logan asked suddenly.

“Yes!” Virgil agreed quickly.

“The people have spoken!” Roman laughed as he accepted the sleep mask. “Do your worst.”

He didn’t trust the giggles coming from his sons, but as long as they were happy, he was sure he’d love it.

~~~END~~~

I got a pedicure yesterday, gave me an idea

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #platonic lamp #royality #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #kid virgil #kid logan #thursday writes #my writing #sanders sides fanfiction

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nickgerlich · 8 months

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What's In Your Cart?

It seems like ancient history now, but the way Americans shop for groceries started to change in a big way back in 1988. That’s when the first Walmart Supercenter opened in Washington Missouri. It was a novel concept for Americans, because it combined groceries with dry goods and general merchandise.

While Walmart cannot take credit for the innovation, since there had been so-called hypermarkets doing so on an even larger scale in Europe and Asia in years prior, they can take credit for nailing it here. Walmart did such a good job that they systematically started replacing the majority of their older stores in favor of these behemoths, which in larger metros clock in at 200,000 square feet. In Amarillo, the stores on Coulter Road and Grand Street are both of this size, having opened in 1992. They have downsized versions for smaller markets, like here in Canyon, but the concept is the same.

Walmart did its time building its grocery business, and in 2001 became the nation’s biggest food retailer, with sales of $56 billion. It has not let go of that title.

Today, though, Walmart has laid claim to yet another honor in the grocery business: They are now the second-biggest e-grocery retailer, accounting for 36% of sales. Only Amazon, with nearly double Walmart’s e-grocery sales, is bigger.

And for yet another find-a-positive-in-a-pandemic exercise, ponder just how fast Walmart pivoted during COVID, jumping on curbside pickup and home delivery faster and better than its brick-and-mortar competitors. That advantage is still playing out today as the chain continues to grow its online grocery presence.

I see it every time I go to Walmart for groceries. Now let me explain something. In Canyon we have only Walmart and United, the latter of which is owned by Albertson’s and is slated for further acquisition under the Kroger umbrella. United has considerably higher prices on the things I buy, and lacks many of the items I want that Walmart routinely stocks. I’m not cheap. It just looks that way.

But when I am in our Walmart, I constantly see order pickers pushing their huge carts stacked with blue plastic bins. They are fulfilling orders for both curbside and delivery, and sometimes there are so many of them in the aisles that it becomes hard to shop with my little buggy. Like this last week, when there was a major traffic jam right in front of the pizza and pasta section, which, as my luck would have it, was where I needed to be. It’s kind of like driving on the freeway. You get out of the way of the massive trucks, even if you have right-of-way.

As for me, I have yet to order groceries online, aside from some specialty items I have procured through Amazon. I am just old-school enough, as my father taught me, to want to squeeze that lettuce, thump that melon, etc., before I make my selection. I don’t want tomatoes with bruises, nor broccoli that is starting to turn yellow. Only I can control for that, and that means in-person.

But I know the time is coming. I am no Luddite; I’m just picky. Maybe I should do a few test orders with non-perishable items, just to see how they do. Then maybe add some onions or cauliflower. I might just like this. Still, it’s going to be hard to let go of old habits and practices. My father was the grocery shopper in my family, and I watched him closely. He was a master at his craft.

Back in the Canyon Walmart, I think it might be time for them to consider opening a dark store, which looks like, feels like, and smells like a traditional store, but is not open to the general public. In the grocery biz, a dark store would be where all curbside and delivery orders are filled, alleviating the brick-and-mortar store from all those cumbersome trolleys.

Good for Walmart in responding best during the challenges of a pandemic. It paid dividends, and apparently enough people made the switch to online grocery shopping then that it is now habit for many. Just don’t run me over in the pizza and pasta aisle while you’re busy filling those orders.

Dr “Stay In Your Lane” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #Walmart #e-grocery #online #groceries

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youllallriseintheink · 2 years

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Guardians of Hisui, chapter 4: Brighter Days

A story set twenty years after the events of Pokémon Legends: Arceus, Cyllene faces a mysterious new threat that could destroy all of Hisui and take away what remains of the family she’s made.

---

Cyllene woke up to the gentle voice of a woman. It was muffled, as though she was hearing it from behind a door.

“It’s okay. Kiss her, make love to her, whatever you want. She’s your time travel widow. I understand.”

“Thank you. I love you, but I never thought I’d see her again. Nothing like the supernatural to complicate a marriage, I suppose.”

The second voice was Laventon’s. Strange- why had the hallucinations turned pleasant? Why was there a stranger involved in them now?

It was then that Cyllene remembered her injury. Her hand went to her neck, but it was dry and uninjured. Not only that, it didn’t even seem to have any scarring. Cyllene felt her jaw and realized that her scars from years ago had gotten smaller and shallower as well. Whatever had healed her must have been close to supernatural.

Cyllene’s eyes shot open to see a room more white and clean than she’d ever seen before. Her bisharp was holding her hand, a look of concern in its eyes. A strange beeping sound was coming from behind her, and she turned to see a bizarre contraption that a rotom might possess, attached to her by a sensor on her finger.

The time-space distortion must have brought me to the future. Arceus... how long have I been passed out? It’s probably closed by now.

Cyllene’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. In stepped Professor Laventon, his hair beginning to grey but otherwise unchanged. He was even still wearing one of his stupid purple touques. For a moment, Cyllene forgot about everything else. She got up and threw her arms around him. They made out passionately.

“I missed you so much. The kids missed you,” Cyllene said, allowing herself to snuggle into his chest and enjoy his warmth.

“I missed you, too, darling. I never stopped wondering how you three were doing.”

Cyllene looked into his eyes and tried to figure out how to explain everything to him. And that’s when she started crying.

Laventon pulled her in close again. “I know. I know. This is an awful lot. I’m getting misty-eyed, too.”

Cyllene separated from him. “It’s not that. I was trying to save Fleur. Keidan and Bliss are still down there. I just realized that you’re here, and you died years ago, so I must be dead, too. There isn’t a way back, is there?”

“Oh, no... you’re not dead. Bisharp dragged you into the space-time distortion to get you help. You’re in Galar, somewhere around two hundred years from where you were. The space-time distortion is going to stay open a few hours. You can go back.”

Cyllene was relieved, but puzzled. “But if this isn’t the afterlife, why are you here?”

“Well, that’s a long story. You see, after I’d set off on my little research trip, I got poisoned by the kleavor. I lost my mind for a little bit and spent months building up their nest until a time-space distortion came to my rescue. Some nice people saw an injured, dazed, torn-up looking’ fella appear randomly on the street and took him to get healed, but by the time I got back, the time-space distortion was already closed. I’ve been here ever since. But what was this about Fleur needing saving?”

Cyllene told him everything- how the kleavor had taken over, how Fleur had run into harm’s way to find evidence for her theories on them, and all the horrible things she’d learned about the kleavor and the hive on her rescue mission. For once in his life, Laventon wasn’t fascinated and excited by the dangers she’d faced- he was becoming more horrified with every detail.

“Well, that’s no good at all. I’ll help you the best I can. There’s still some time before the time-space distortion closes. Let’s go to the medical lab and see what was in that poison. Maybe with modern science, we can figure out how to defeat the hive and free everyone. And... and I’ll come back with you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You must have built a life here.”

“I might have a lot to leave behind, but it seems like our kids and Hisui need us more. I’m sure as I can be.”

“Excellent. Let’s get to that lab.”

And so they did. The machine that had healed Cyllene had analyzed her blood as a part of the treatment, and had found within it a mixture of regular kleavor excretions, which did little more than make wounds burn, and the poison of a galarian shellder.

“A shellder? I’ve never heard of those.”

“You wouldn’t have. They’re not from Sinnoh or Hoenn. But I actually did a study on them a while back. Believe it or not, I think this might make perfect sense.”

“Sinnoh?”

“The modern name for Hisui. Anyhow, shellder from elsewhere are this fascinating shellfish species, you see? Some of them bite onto slowpoke and help bring out their intelligence, and some just live on their own. It’s a good example of a mutualistic relationship. Galarian shellder, though- they’re parasites. Instead of bringing out the potential intelligence and psychic abilities of a slowpoke, it takes over their minds, becoming far more intelligent and powerful than a shellder ever could on its own and taking control of the body of its host. It seems like one must have ended up in Sinnoh via a distortion.”

“Hisui. But that makes sense. And because Hisui didn’t have any slowpoke to use as hosts, it improvised. And since the kleavor secretions make its poison work from afar, it’s been taking over multiple hosts.”

Laventon scratched his chin. “Yes. Though that still doesn’t explain why it’s so greedy in the first place.”

“Maybe it wants to be smart enough to figure out a way home. Maybe it’s greedy and having the time of its life. It doesn’t matter. It’s a threat and we’ll take it out.”

Laventon smiled. “Ever the pragmatist. I suppose now isn’t the time to ponder its psychology. Now that that’s solved, want to get your clothes cleaned up? There’s time.”

Cyllene looked down at herself and realized that she was still wearing half a person’s worth of blood on her clothes, along with mud and grotesque fluids from slain bug-types. “Yes... that would be nice.”

Once they stepped out of the hospital, Cyllene was greeted with some of the most beautiful buildings she’d ever seen, made of stone, glass and shiny metal. Even Hoenn didn’t generally have such large or elaborate structures.

“The future is beautiful,” she mused.

“Isn’t it?” Laventon mused. Their fingers intertwined. They started walking. “We have so much catching up to do. How are the kids doing?”

“They’re doing well. Of course, the kleavor event hasn’t been good for any of us. Fleur has missed the archives in Jubilife village, and this rescue mission is the first field mission Keidan has ever been on. I hope we can get back to our lives soon. But overall, they’re becoming a wonderful young man and woman.”

“Wonderful. How’s Keidan’s first mission?”

“He’s doing well. He’ll make a good explorer once this is over. And there’s something I’ve noticed. When I feel threatened, my hand goes to my hilt, but when he feels threatened, he reaches for a pokéball. Times are changing.”

“They are. In the future, Pokémon do almost all our fighting, and when they get hurt, we can heal them instantly. It’s a much safer time.”

“It sounds like it. I’m glad.” It was a little sad that sword fighting had become a lost art, but Cyllene knew that that was inevitable. Everyone in her time period knew that the world would either embrace settling conflicts with Pokémon, or with increasingly advanced weaponry. Pokémon were the safer route for everyone.

“And how is Fleur doing? Before she was captured, I mean.”

“Oh. I can’t wait for you to meet her. She needs someone to talk to about her mythology research. She’s doing fine. Lonely, but fine.”

“Well, I guess I can help with that! Is she into time-space distortions?”

“Very.”

“Perfect! I researched them a lot when I first got here. They’ve learned so much about them here in the future. Like, one thing I learned is that Ingo actually got off lucky. People are meant to go forwards in time- we’re all doing that to a slower extent. But if you belong in the future, going to the past, well... you saw Ingo. And most people don’t get their memories back. You’d be lucky if you don’t have to relearn how to speak. Heck, you’d be lucky if you can relearn to speak.”

“But that doesn’t include us. Correct?”

“Oh, no. We’re from the past.”

"Good.”

The two got to Laventon’s house. It was a nice place and had many interesting devices Cyllene couldn’t identify. She tried not to feel guilty when she saw what looked like a young child’s toys on the floor on the floor of the living room. Taking him away from a wife was one thing- it was his choice between two women- but taking him away from a child... well, it was still his choice, and if he chose his first family, she wasn’t about to stop him.

Laventon gave Cyllene some clothes to burrow and put hers in a strange machine meant to wash them.

“There’s something I want to show you. Come here, it’s on the telly.”

“The what?”

“The television. It’s like... um... it’s like plays, but the actors don’t have to be in the same room because of electricity.”

“Electricity? Like from an electric-type? How does that let you see plays from far away?”

“It’s... well, it’s a future thing. It’s in the living room, let’s go.”

So, Cyllene followed him to the living room, where he put a strange disk into a device near the ‘television,’ pressed a button on another, hand-held device, and the screen lit up.

A bird’s eye shot of Hisui, now covered in towns and cities, was played over the screen as a voice described its rich history and its virtues as a vacation spot.

“I got so excited when I first watched this. Hisui made it!” Laventon said.

Indeed it had. The presentation showed so many locations that Cyllene could vaguely recognize as parts of Hisui. The Coronet Highlands- now Mount Coronet, a town settled at its base. Thriving cities everywhere from what were once the Albaster Icelands to the Cobalt Coastlands. Even the Crimson Mire, now with so many different Pokémon species thriving in it, was now a nature preserve and tourist attraction.

“Wow. We made it. Hisui made it.” All of their work on that wild, untamed land wasn’t for nothing. And the Hive was temporary.

“We did. I’ve never been to Sinnoh myself, but I hope my research takes me there one day.”

“Research?”

“Well, yes. I’m still a travelling researcher.” Laventon excitedly dug out his wallet and produced a picture a boy, purple-haired and about three years old, cuddling a stuffed charmander. “See this little guy? His name is Leon. He can’t get enough of the charizard line, and my next trip is to Kanto, so Im going to bring him back a charmander. ...And hope he doesn’t burn the house down with it. He’s a handful!” Then, Laventon’s face fell. “Or, well, I would, if I weren’t about to go back in time with you. But that’s okay! I can’t wait to see Fleur again.”

A strange buzzing sound came from behind the pair, and Cyllene got up and reached for her sword, only to realize it wasn’t on her.

Laventon smiled at the familiar sight of Cyllene being hypervigilent. “That’s the laundry. Let’s go get it.”

And so they did. Soon, Cyllene was in her light armour again, much less blood-stained now.

“We should go to the time-space distortion. There’s only about a half-hour before it’s supposed to close,” Laventon said.

Cyllene nodded. Something about this didn’t feel right.

“Everything okay?”

“No. I’ll tell you why once we get to the time-space distortion.”

“Okay,” Laventon replied, worried.

They came to the mass of purple energy at the center of town. Many people- young and old alike- had gathered to gawk at it. Not the private fairwell that Cyllene was hoping for, but it would have to do. To make matters worse, a purple-haired woman was coming towards them- most likely Laventon’s new wife.

“There you are. How was the reunion?” she asked, smiling awkwardly at Laventon and trying to avoid eye contact with the other woman.

Laventon gave a pained smile in response. “Well, I have to tell you something...”

“Don’t tell her yet,” Cyllene cut in. “Laventon, you’ve lived here for six or seven years. You’ve married, fathered a child, and established a career. You speak their lingo and know how to operate their devices. In a sense, you are from the future. Are you certain that this won’t cause you to lose your memory?”

Laventon hesitated. “Well... I don’t think anything like this has happened before. I don’t know.”

Cyllene folded her arms behind her back. “In that case, I have an order for you as captain of the Survey Corps. I order you to stay here, be a good father to Leon, travel the world for your research, and have an excellent life. I won’t tear you away from that if there’s a chance it would cost you mind as well.”

Laventon was stunned. Tears were springing up in his eyes. He looked like he might try to argue with her.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

“Well, in that case... do you still have Alakazam?”

“Well, it’s still Fleur’s, but yes. I never could get it to stop following her around.”

Laventon dug a necklace out of his pocket. It was adorned with what looked like a marble with alakazam’s colour scheme. “Give this to her. It’s from Kalos, just like her name. If she wears it while Alakazam is around, well, you’ll see.”

Cyllene took it. “Thank you.”

It was then that Laventon started crying. “I don’t want to lose you again!”

“I’m sorry. I love you,” Cyllene replied. Then, she went back through the time-space distortion, and back into the hive.

#pokemon #captain cyllene #professor laventon #cyllene x laventon #my fanfiction

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