Summary : Richie Tozier is struggling with something. Something he’d never thought he’d have to struggle with. Sure, his parents can be pretty shitty, but he never thought it would come to this. It’s now been about a month since Richie has been kicked out of his house. He has made do with sleeping in his truck, and passing out on nights that all the losers are together, but things are becoming more dire. With what was left of his money stash gone, Richie is forced to make a living by prostitution. There’s also something going on with Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak, mommy’s boy and pill expert has been put on a new pill. This time, it was of his own doing, and not his mothers. What it’s for, no one knows.
Pairings : Eventual Reddie with hints of Stenbrough and mentions of Bikeverly (Ben/Mike/Bev)
Warnings : Slight noncon, prostitution, homelessness, bad language, and over all Richie’s trash mouth.
AN : Ayyyeee! This is the first time I’m posting a fanfic on Tumblr, but it’s also the first IT anything I’m posting. Keep in mind that all of the characters are 18/19 at this time, and in their senior year of high school. There will be eventual smut, but how in depth I haven’t decided. The characters in no way have any relation to the child actors that have portrayed them. IT does not belong to me, however if it had I would’ve changed a lot of things in the book.
Warnings: Voyeurism, slight angst, in the beginning, Oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, sex in a kitchen
Square filled: Voyeurism for @spnkinkbingo
A/N: So I decided to fill this square for kink bingo it starts out a little angsty but it has a happy ending. Thanks to anon who suggested I filled this one next. I hope you guys like it.
Dinner was a tense affair, you had pretty much avoided having meals with both of the boys ever since you had told Dean that his brother and you were officially a couple, but here you were eating mac and cheese and staring between the green eyed scowl on your right and the soft hazel eyed smile on your left. You felt a hand squeeze your thigh reassuringly and you turned to Sam.
For our fourth interview, we have had the privilege of getting to know Mike from Florida, USA. Please take a moment to find out all his great stories from work from when he started writing as well as what inspires him and much more. Thank you for participating, Mike! ❤
Writers Creed: Thank you for joining us! We’d like to start off with a brief introduction. Tell us your name and any nicknames and / or cool story involving them (if any) :)
Mike: First of all I cannot begin answering questions before thanking you for this completely unexpected honor and pleasure. As for nicknames, the number one perk of being named Mike is no matter how old I am or ever get, I shall always be a Mikey, and yes I do like that. Michael is actually my middle name, and I’ll spare you the gory details, but that is confusing. I have a much stranger nickname at work, Frank, as in Frank Frawley. For the past fourteen years I’ve worked for the same family owned business, and for reasons yet unknown, one of them has and will probably always call me Frank. It’s now a running joke, and everyone including me when I’m in a good mood finds this hilarious.
WC: Haha that is a great story Mike. We’ll make sure to stick to Mike and not Frank haha. So onto the real writing questions, what got you into writing?
M: I actually started writing at one of the lowest points in my life, and never had much if any desire to write prior to 1999. Fighting a losing battle with addiction, I had chased away love, most if not all of my friends, and totally destroyed a 21-year career. I wrote about 4 poems to pass the time and hopefully keep some of whatever was left of my sanity. Several years later I was able to share one, “Hush” with a severely depressed friend. She loved it and passed it around to everyone else, who also said they loved it, and I was hooked. Thankfully, she’s now an RN, a happily married mother of two, and I’m doing much better as well.
WC: Wow that is a great answer. It is incredible how people are able to turn tragedy into something positive and in turn also inspire others through their writing
M: People are actually pretty amazing, and when I don’t have my head buried deeply up my behind, I realize, or remember that the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.
WC: Well said, “the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.” 😊 Love that. So what usually motivates you to write? What are the subjects you most touch upon?
M: The motivation like everything else has changed over time. After my first few poems, I started writing to share with my friends at work. Along with enjoying their positive feedback, I totally unexpectedly discovered that I actually loved to write. There are so many thoughts and feelings that I feel I can adequately express only via written words. In our words, we can be actors, saints, sinners, lovers, dreamers, and anything else we can imagine. In its own way, I’ve found writing to be a very liberating experience. Early on, the mostly spiritual books I was reading often inspired me, and of course music, always music. By far my favorite topic has always been love in its many hues, from romantic to tragic to altruistic. A few of my favorite themes are of course pirates, The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, God, self-love, and most definitely dreamers.
WC: Lovely answer, just spot on. You have a wonderful point here about how easily it is for us writers to take the role of any character we choose and really go with it. The power to be able to create is fascinating. How long have you been writing?
M: As I mentioned, I wrote about 4 poems in 1999, and for reason I saved them while going through some shall we say pretty interesting times. Several years later when I began sharing them with friends at work, I probably wrote one or two per week at most. You may find this moderately humorous, after a while I started sharing prose on Fridays, and having never heard of prose along with only knowing that a blog had something to do with the internet, I referred to them as Fake Blog Fridays. Since joining Tumblr in December of 2010, and counting whatever I wrote prior to that, I’m “guesstimating” that I’ve written somewhere around 4,000 poems and other types of creative writing.
WC: Haha that is amazing! You know, I think we (all writers on Tumblr who have been blessed with your work) can agree that it was the best thing you did to start writing when you did! ❤ Any strange, interesting, cool stories or experiences happen to you because of the fact that you write?
M: I can’t think of too much other than in my early days of writing at work. I had a readership of about 50 people, and I used to go around each morning whenever I had written a new poem passing them out on company paper, and time. My boss heard about it a few years later, and while shaking his head in disbelief, smiled and said, don’t do that anymore. Also, I’m not generally very comfortable meeting new people, and it certainly was an ice breaker. New employees would often come up to me and ask, “Hey aren’t that poet guy?” Minor though it was, I’m sure I enjoyed the notoriety as the only fish in a small pond.
WC: Cute :) Well now for the last question, tell us a fun fact about you :)
M: Why did they get tough at the end? LOL. For some reason you just reminded me of one of my father’s favorite stories that he loved to share even into old age. His passion was traveling, and as a Marine Corps Officer was allowed 30 days of vacation each year. In a little pale blue Tempest hauling a camper trailer we literally traveled around the country for 3 or 4 weeks once every year. I’ve been in 40 plus states as well as both Canada and Mexico. Yellowstone with its geysers and bears was one of my favorites. Anyway, back to his story. Apparently at least one of my school teachers had called the house expressing her concern over my apparent chronic lying, and when he inquired as to why, she replied, every time we have a geography class and discuss a new location, he says I’ve been there. My father smiled and answered, he has. I can only imagine her expression.
WC: No way! Haha that was epic!
M: I heard that story many times and smiled with each retelling. :)
WC: I can see why. It sure brightened my day.
M: This has been very enjoyable!
WC: Thanks! Well thank you so much for doing this and sharing your soul with us today!
•Summary: Y/n has joined Devenfords lacrosse team.The day of the scrimmage against Beacon hills, Y/n finds her self being something she wouldn’t have ever dreamed of, let’s just say she needs to get her answers from a certain jerk.
•Word count- 2010
A/n: First imagine, probably very bad & I apologize in advance :-)
Author’s Note: I decided to write a part 3, where Jason shares his thoughts. Sorry, if it is too long.
Summary: Taken place in DC Rebirth, Timothy Drake is back. What does Jason Todd think about it?
“Tim is such a son of a gun,” Jason Todd thinks to himself, the clouds in the sky remain as visible as the glinting sun. Irony seeps through the cracks as he remembers most of Tim’s jokes before his death that have Kryptonian content in them. The replacement did what neither of them could have; face Superman’s father.
Death? Isn’t that what Jason has spent his entire life revolving his own comedic sequences around? Everyone who knows where he comes from, how he made it to where he is have had their fair share of what it’s like to hear a sentence out of him that includes death. Was death waiting at his feet, begging to be consumed by him or was it handed to him forcefully while he had no mercy?
Yes, mercy. What a beautiful thing that is, what a beautiful thing that many people lack! Mercy and kindness, if that becomes more common, the world wouldn’t have been through what it has seen. You can climb the highest mountain and run through the widest field but you can’t seem to watch people become one with kindness. Love and kindness. We all look for so much in people; Jason wishes he knew how to find happiness instead of raw angst. Maybe instead of killing people he’d be doing something useful…. but he does save the world. Who’s the bigger son of an actual gun now?
You can collect regrets like friends who’ve forgotten you, you, them. Watching Bruce fight and go crazy for his other children gives Jason the thought of how Batman was not the one to find him, he found Batman.
Jason didn’t expect a warm welcome since he was not giving a Bruce a reason for a fuzzy reception. His intentions were not good; they were full of hatred and wrath towards the man who failed to avenge him. But how is Jason so sure that Bruce didn’t want to find him? Bruce Wayne was younger than he has been with Damian’s death and Tim’s whatever-you-call-it, Jason prefers it as a case of being kidnapped by Superman’s dad and meeting the next Batman-which happened to be Tim. He can blame Bruce all he wants for not killing the Joker and just as much as he wants to make Bruce look like he didn’t mourn his first dead son, Jason knows that he did. He mourned for days, Batman became reckless, until Tim found out about everything and convinced Bruce he is good enough to be Robin, Red Robin.
In Jason’s eyes, Batman found another sidekick to do his dirty work. Now he knows the truth, the honesty in which Batman made the world better by letting in another boy wonder paint a blank page in with bright colours. Maybe the need to mention Jason’s death is only used as a way to battle his past with humour, which is common among most peers who have suffered. Maybe.
The trees in front of Wayne Manor have been lacking leaves compared to the fullness of green during spring and summer, the dry specks of what was once green are now roasted in a spicy array of colours. The brass gates close behind the three of them, making its own loud remarks. Tim catches up with Jason, his breaths heaving up and down while Dick leads them down the beautiful path.
“I missed you, when you weren’t around.” Jason says after going over this thought ever since Timothy Drake came back. Jason didn’t want to let the boy who filled his shoes while playing Robin know that he did miss the replacement… neither of them imagined this happening back in the day during Pre-Crisis…
“Surprised that you’d say this.” Tim replies.
“You’re supposed to say you missed me too.” Jason teasingly pushes Tim around the shoulders.
“Don’t you know cool kids don’t say it back?” Tim smirks as he questions. “Ah, forgot you don’t have enough people to say this to.”
“That’s rude, I have connections with actual mafias unlike Kal-El’s father that could actually murder you.” Jason jokes around, looking ahead and seeing Dick’s rhythmic walks.
“Oh yeah, asking Bruce for 16 million dollars.” Tim replies.
“That had potential to be funny Tim, but it just isn’t.” Jason says as he buries his big hands inside the pocket of his Red Hoodie.
The two boys stop for a while, Wayne Manor is very far from the town but it’s located in a place good enough for a distant view of Gotham’s skyline. The glinting glass off the skyscrapers shine in a maze of the imagination of the one who’ve built this city. The foundation lies in good civil engineering; but in all honesty, it’s made out of love and sentiment but it has fumes made of cruelty and greed.
The bricks that have built the first stories of each tall building have been cemented to perfection with passion, it grew taller and bigger. The cloudy sky with glints of sunlight peaking through the big mix of grey bouncing on them. By night it’s a city lit by fireflies. Oh it looks so beautiful every night.
Ever since each and every rogue, every supervillain, their attempts at trying to dim down the brightness, Gotham questions the beauty it had inside of it. She doesn’t deserve the treatment, she doesn’t deserve the crime she endures everyday. The city of blinding lights just has to witness the misfortune thrust upon it.
“Guys, keep walking. Jog if you want, keep your butts moving, kiddos. Exercise makes the oxygen cycle in your body fresher.” Dick pauses and says, looking back and ruffling his hair.
“You sound dumb, Dick, no offense.” Tim says.
“Listen, I have an eight pack and thighs that I crush skulls with, my muscles need a damn break.” Jason replies back, letting his blue eyes scheme over the outline of Gotham. Dick’s flailing body meets up beside theirs, forming a line of three, looking at the same view of Gotham city that they could through the cracks of the trees.
“Ah, guys, Bruce umm.” Dick breaks the peaceful silence, while a dried leaf lands on Tim’s shoulder as he brushes it away softly.
“What did the old man do now?” Jason asks.
“HeaskedSelinatomarryhimandshesaidyes.” the words race through Dick’s mouth and he inhales the air and closes his mouth with his hands.
“What the fu-” before Jason could finish his sentence…
“What will Batman tell Gordon? ‘Jim, I am marrying Bruce Wayne’s fiance.’” Tim says.
“Are you telling me someone wants to marry Bruce?” Jason asks Dick, his hair a mess from the subconscious movements his hands made from the astonishment.
“Bruce is rich.” Tim says. “Many women want him.”
“First of all, Selina doesn’t care about his money. Learn to respect women like her, okay, Tim?” Jason breaks in, knowing Tim isn’t serious about what he said.
“I don’t respect thieves but she’s an exception.” Tim says. But I’m a spy and they’re kind of like thieves.”
“So Batman is marrying Catwoman.” Jason repeats, again and again.
“You didn’t hear it from me.” Dick says.
“Excuse me, are there talks about father asking that robber’s hand in marriage?” a familiar snark being audible through Damian’s voice interrupts.
“Oh my God, Damian.” Tim hesitates in complaint.
“When did you show up, demon brat?” Jason says, jumping out.
“Oh Damian-” Dick starts.
“At first he lets Todd into the family, now he’s marrying a criminal.” Damian says while joining the line of Robins. “So much for justice.”
“Your grandfather and your mom are the most terrifying criminals on earth, don’t judge Catwoman.” Jason says in defense, succeeding at his attempts to not shove the kid down on the road.
“Talia killed Damian.” Dick says with sadness in his tone, putting his buff arm around the boy, Damian’s eyes glow in the greenest manner possible as he shares the view with the boys.
“I don’t blame her.” Tim replies as he sits down, his feet crushing the crunchy maroon leaves under it.
“Drake, my grandfather told you to leave the humour to Grayson.” Damian replies.
“But he also thinks I’m a great detective.” Tim says.
Noon ends, the colour of the sky becomes richer, nearly matching the lighter leaves. The path will soon be blocked by a light dance of the sky’s mist. Jason’s thoughts cloud him at the moment, what a day it is. For once, he can stop thinking of Bruce as a brick wall with bat ears.
What Jason Peter Todd shies from stating is that he is grateful for moments like this, with the other… the other Robins. Brothers? His mind drifts off to the lovely cycle that is introduced into your life if you ever set foot on his city. The crime, the fight, the masked vigilantes, the mafias, the losers that can’t ever win and the ghosts that haunt the alleyways.
The smell of burnt wood and raw autumnal leaves sway through the air particles, calming the entire environment. The way everything works now is different, in Jason’s heart especially. Going through everything he has gone through, he knows that just as much as this family of his makes him want to throw up, he looks forward to seeing them a few more times perhaps.
Even Damian doesn’t make his body itch like it did before, Damain has had everything Jason hasn’t. But they have one thing in common, all of them do. They share a father, whether or not Jason loves admitting that Bruce is his father. He is now. He has been since that day he decided to adopt the small child with a tire iron in Crime Alley.
If Bruce wasn’t his father, would Jason ever tell him that the honesty behind his thirst for The Joker lies on the vision of The Joker taking Jason away from Bruce? Isn’t Jason the one who told Bruce, when he had a gun pointed to that sick green ass’s head that he would kill him if The Joker took Bruce away from him? Would he ever do it if Bruce wasn’t a father to him?
Jason can relive his darkest moments as much as his mind forces him to, every demon wants his pound of flesh. Jason Todd is no different. He fails to see a way to ignore his past, a horse is always being dragged by him, pasteurizing a sound full of melancholy, it’s time he buries the horse in the ground. He won’t restart his career plans, but he will try to give another chance to let his family in. His battered heart is done with being graceless, it’s been way too long.
Characters: Claire Novak, reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel
Warnings: lots and lots of angst, mentions of abuse, swearing, suicide
Word count: 3475
April 10th, 2010 (12 years old)
You sat alone in your isolated room in foster home after attacking one of the staff. You had only been there for a few days and already you were causing trouble, just like in the last foster home. The reason you were in there was because your parents were killed by demons. You grew up in a family of hunters and always knew something like this would happen, but this wasn’t your families fault. It was the Winchesters. When the demon slit your mother and fathers throat right in front of you, he told you he was doing it in the name of Sam and Dean Winchester, in respects of them starting the apocalypse.
Matt: “Echo. Maya Lopez. She can duplicate anything she sees, perfectly. She’s a hell of a fighter in her own right, but we worked this out ahead of time. She’s letting me lead. This way, I’m fighting… I’m just not touching anyone. She’s throwing punches, but they’re my moves. Well, not exactly how I’d do it. I’m adjusting a little, taking into account the differences between our body types, muscle mass. Honestly… it’s exhilarating. It’s like… it’s like we’re dancing. It’s… been a long time.”
Daredevil vol. 5 #21 by Charles Soule, Goran Sudzuka, and Matt Milla
Matt is using both of his identities to help the D.A.’s office to take down a group of criminals, but for legal reasons, he isn’t allowed to touch them himself. Thus, he recruits some surrogate fists in the form of Luke Cage and Echo/Maya Lopez.
Maya has been long absent from Matt’s life– partly due to their messy break-up, but mostly because she was killed by Count Nefaria during the 2010-2012 Moon Knight run. She was finally revived last summer, in time for her to have a great team-up with Matt in the first Volume 5 annual. It’s exciting to have her back again in DD #21. This suggests that she might end up having a recurring presence in the comic, and it’s also just a great scene. We love the idea of Matt shadow boxing for her– a really cool premise for a team-up and great application of Maya’s powers– and it’s really touching to see how much fun the two of them are having together. As Matt says… it’s been a long time.
Starting your first year in college is beyond stressful what with homework, a job, and maintaining some kind of personal life. You don’t know if you can keep up in the beginning, but when you meet the teaching assistant for your first-year lecture, you find that he can offer more than just academic advice.
wordcount: 2010 request: please do seunghoon college AU!
I do not allow reposting of my work under any circumstances. Thank you!
Initially, you had no idea what to expect from your preceptorial. It was only a lecture that all freshmen were required to take in their first college term, so it was, naturally, very vague in its description. Based on what you had heard from the few upperclassmen you had acquainted yourself with, however, it seemed that the class would be strenuous, writing heavy, and time-consuming: three things that did not agree with your ideal vision of college life. So, needless to say, you were not largely enthused to take your seat on day one.
“i know we were never officially together or anything but seeing that picture you posted on Facebook with her literally felt like you carved my heart out of my chest and stomped on it and i’m not really sure why i’m leaving this voicemail but my pillow still smells like you and i miss your stupid face” AU
Sitting on the swing, you felt the fresh air run through your hair. It blew the mess of soft curls around your face, brushing against our shoulder or cheek every so often. You felt the familiar tingle of goosebumps run along your skin, raising at the contact.
Sighing contently, you pushed yourself back and forth with your feet, keeping the tips of your toes on the white wooden planks. It was often that Alexandra would be this calm, normal even. It was about the most normal thing you’d faced in years.
Not being able to decipher the good from the bad was a curse in this world, but any idiot could tell Alexandra was almost pure good. The sanctuary was a ray of light in the dark tunnel of life you and the group had grown so accustomed too. It made you feel weird, odd and overall confused. You didn’t think anything could’ve turned out like this.
Daryl had told you it was “too good to be true”, and at first you believed him, thinking the citizen’s here might turn on you at any moment. But days past, weeks even and here you were– still unharmed.
Your feelings for the redneck man had definitely gotten in the way of your judgement. You knew he was simply human, and not always right– but you constantly trusted him with your entire being. Which wasn’t a bad thing considering how he was probably the most experienced survivor in Alexandra, but it masked how you saw him.
Because he could be a real asshole. As could you, of course, but man did Daryl know how to bring someone down. He could draw out your weaknesses within an instant, make you into nothing short of a coward.
He had hurt you, not physically, but emotionally. But you didn’t know which one was worse because the physical pain would leave eventually– would this ever, though?
It’d been days since Daryl last spoke to you– you knew the man had better things to do than run after you all day and vice versa, but it hurt to think that the bond you shared was put to waste. All those last nights of keeping watch, a comfortable silence that you usually broke, the confidence surges he got when he decided to break it instead. You missed it all deeply– and you didn’t know if it’d ever be like that again.
All because of stupid sex. Suddenly you despised it, and would do anything to take back that stupid mistake. What was always perceived as a fun and exciting thing– which it was– had been pronounced as the murderer of your friendship.
Could you even call it a friendship? The two of you were close, yes, but it never seemed like some kind of a bond you could share with just anybody. You knew you loved him, whether he reciprocated those feelings, that special but bloody mess of an emotion, you didn’t know.
You felt as if you’d never really know. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words, and he didn’t talk about his feelings when he did speak. Especially love. The way his brother influenced him probably set the youngest Dixon off of that for life. You doubted he’d ever grow out of his awkward ‘I may or may not be a virgin’ faze.
“(Y/N)?” Rick’s of voice asked from the open window, you turned around, facing him now. You rubbed your tired eyes, seeing him was around the wall and to the door. He pushed it open quietly, slipping outside of the warm home.
“Hey, Rick.” You mumbled, pulling your knees up to reach your chest as you hugged yourself. He gave you a soft smile, taking a seat beside you.
“Nah, never could.” You sighed in response, knowing that your anxiety would eat at you till the day you die. Walkers or not.
“What’s on your mind?” It was obvious Rick knew what was bothering you, Daryl had been acting the same way ever since that day– of course more hostile than you, but overall similar.
You spared him a simple shrug, knowing he would continuing pestering you, but a small part of you had hope that he might not.
Of course, that small part of you was wrong.
“(Y/N),” He exhaled, scratching at his beard as he looked to you. Your eye made contact, and as intimidating as Rick was, you felt more safe than anything else. “I know what happened– between you two.”
“It’s nothing, Rick–”
“Don’t seem like nothing.” Rick paused, looking down to his hands quickly before glancing out into the streets of Alexandra. “You haven’t talked to him in days.”
You followed his line of sight seeing the softly lit roads. No one strolled the town at night– not unless they were switching guards or at least armed. And it seemed that it was only your group that was armed, with the exception of the existing Monroe family and a few others.
No one liked the dark– especially now.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Rick.”
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Its Daryl, (Y/N). He wouldn’t have ever spoken a word to us if he didn’t have to.” Rick scoffed, laughing slightly at his friend. You gave him a sad smile, knowing though his words were slightly exaggerated, they held a certain truth to them. “He stepped up. I like to think you lead him to that.”
You laughed now, thinking Rick was crazy. You couldn’t have done that.
“I’m serious, (Y/N). You helped him open up.” He whispered sweetly before patting your back lovingly. He stood slowly, the swing rocking with his movements. You felt that same wind brush through your tangled hair again.
And just like that, Rick was gone, his words truly setting a reaction off inside you. Like a domino, he pushed the first one, and slowly but surely the others fell too, drawing you to the conclusion that maybe there was another chance for you and Daryl.
Still, you needed a surge of confidence, and that was taking its sweet time. Not until a day and a half later did you even decide on what you’d say first. But here you were, walking down the street almost a week after Rick’s conversation with you. Finally, on your way to confronting Daryl.
He was fine-tuning his bike, you remembered he’d told you it’d been giving him some problems out on the road and you offered to help. You didn’t know much, but you could hand him tools and stuff– ideally it was just an excuse to spend time with him. You liked to think he knew that.
He was facing away from you, weight on one hip and wiping his oil and grease ridden hands on his red rag. You approached him quietly, letting your presence be known with a simple question.
“Need any help?”
His head snapped back, toward you at the sudden noise. He quickly gave you a scowl, not even bothering to answer as he continued working alone. You sighed, taking the silence as a definite no. Leaning against the garage door frame you watched him in peace, but your lingering eyes burned through his clothing and thick skin, making him feel uneasy.
“What you want, woman?” He grunted, not even bothering to look you in the eye, nevertheless face you again. The wind brushed at his hair now, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire it from behind.
“Talk to me?”
“Nah. ’M good.” He snapped back, causing an exhalation to leave your lips– one that was louder than intended.
“You really want to do that?” You scoffed, annoyed by his actions and words. “You really want to throw everything away– everything we’ve been through because of–”
“Because of what, huh? Because you fucked–” He interrupted you, but you quickly called him out with wide eyes and a loud yell of his name.
“What? Got nothing to be ashamed of, right?” You felt small tears pricking at your eyes as he turned to face you– anger expelling from his body. He walked up to you, still leaving a good four feet between you both. “Oh, so now you care. That’s rich I’ll tell you.”
“I’ve always cared, I always will.” You retorted, growing angrier that he didn’t know. He didn’t know how he made you feel– not just now– but always.
“Then what was he? Huh? What–”
“A distraction! He was just a distraction…” You yelled, stopping his beginning rant that was sure to leave you in tears. You couldn’t handle the secrecy anymore, it was eating you up. “From you.”
“Wha’?” He whispered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I– I don’t know, okay–”
“Don’t bullshit me, (Y/N).” Daryl’s patience was already as thin as ice, but you seemed to just be stomping on it every chance you got.
“Daryl I–” You began, but the deep blue his eyes held was so intimidating. You didn’t know if you could say it just out right, but you wanted to. So you tried, and surprisingly the words flew out your mouth– hitting him in the face. “I have feelings for you.”
He took a soft step back before taking another three steps forward. “What kind of ‘feelings’?” He moved in closer, anticipating your answer.
“Like I– I love you.” You blinked rapidly, hoping to clear the gloss from your (Y/E/C) eyes.
“I said don’t bullshit me.” Daryl snapped, walking back to his bike. You saw the sudden change, realising he must have been pushed too far. Daryl wasn’t used to this– in fact it’d never happened to him before.
With eagerness and motivation you followed him, raising your voice. “I’m not, Jesus! Is it that hard to believe someone actually cares for you? That I want to be with you?”
“You,” He paused, not really sure if he actually heard you saying that. Was this just a dream? Had he finally hit the brink of insanity? “Wanna be with me? Like–”
“Together; romantically? Yeah.” You confessed, suddenly finding your boots to be more intriguing than the Dixon’s eyes.
“Oh,” He sniffled, emotions getting the better of him. He couldn’t handle it– the overflowing ram that had been doing so well holding everything back– before you came along. “That’s uh, I mean I should really get to work on my bike–”
“Say something. Tell me you don’t want to be with if you don’t or tell me–” You pleaded, looking up at him with sad eyes. You figured this was the end of whatever the two of you shared.
“I want too.” He nodded, surprising you. You face went slack, jaw loose and eyes widening. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for a response.
“Oh, well–” You breathed out, but he quickly cut you off.
“I don’t know how.”
“That’s fine. There’s not much to it. We can start slow if you’d like.”
Daryl nodded softly, awkwardly looking to your lips. He leant in slowly, but almost like a robot. His body trembled forward for less than a second, making his way to you. You smiled softly at his attempt, knowing it must be hard. As you met him half way you felt the chapped and inexperienced lips against yours, smiling against him as his hands moved to your body, yours to his hair.
You grabbed it, slightly curling your finger around the loose ends as you rested your forehead against his, pulling away.
At first, his eyes stayed closed, lips twitching forward to get just another kiss– but you simply pecked his lips instead, laughing softly, “How was that for a start?”
Favorite song/songs: Too Far Gone by Sir Sly, Modern Day Cain by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, Rose City by Electric Mantis, Make Me A Robot by Tessa Violet, and Daisy Bell by both Hal 9000 and IBM
Last Action Movie I Saw: does 2010 count? hmm, probably princess mononoke then (IT’S SO GOOD)
How Sarcastic Am I On A Daily Basis: i’m p fluent in it tbh my poor friends all say i’m an asshole and while they’re right i’m also just really sarcastic
Cheesiest Thing I’ve Ever Witnessed: i was hanging out w my kismesis on my birthday and her parents were walking away and he said something and she pushed him away and he just laughed then grabbed her hand and kissed her on the cheek and i started sobbing. good parents make me cry
Weirdest Craving I Ever Got: i once spent the whole day wanting to break some glass so i plotted out where i’d get the glass and where the best place to break it was
Favorite Sea Creature: hmmmmm all of them? but specially sharks and octopi, sharks remind me of my brother and octopi are just cool as fuck lil sucky arms!!
Onion On Horses: the first time i got one, i jumped up and fell right off the other side but that does not lessen my love for them one bit
The Felt: teleportation!! i really!!! do not!! want to be!! here i wish!!! i could just!!!! disappear!!! and go!!! somewhere else!!!
Have I Ever Felt Inadequate: uhhh yeah, yeah a lot
Nya: you know like, nya
My Zodiac Sign And God Tier: aries and witch of mind, i looked into sylph of heart for a while but i feel like that one’s a bit to nice for me