#darryl x reader

[mimosathetequila]

Is anyone craving a darryl x reader (or bad era mj in general) or is it just little old me

he’s just so cute and sexy in the bad mv omfg the perfect mix🤤🤤🤤

I had to make a thirst post or I’d combust

[a-major-love]

The Time Will Pass

Pairing - Darryl x Neutral!Reader

Summary - The future was coming faster than Darryl would have liked...

Word Count - 742

Warnings - no use of y/n, angst, comfort, established friendship, reader and darryl are 18

A/N - remember how I said this was going to be a fluff piece, well I'm a liar apparently.

1988

Clutter was strewn about all over your bedroom floor, narrowly missing the box with the word DONATE scribbled in thick, black marker on the front. From well loved books with their pages bent, to miscellaneous items of clothing that were hiding in the back of your closet for a year. A pile of notebooks sat on your desk, along with the game Isolation that had somehow lost its two pawns. The board game was now useless, and had a thin layer of dust settled over it. Darryl sat, on a worn out bean bag shoved in the corner of your room, soaking up the sliver of sun that was peaking through your curtains. 

Then there was you, lounging on your bed, lazily flipping through an old Fangoria issue that had been haphazardly shoved in the back of your dresser for three months. 

“I thought you were cleaning your room.”

“I am cleaning,” you said, not bothering to glance at him. “I’m inspecting this magazine, to see if it needs to be thrown away.” 

Darryl scoffed, amused. “Your room looks like a tornado hit it.” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” 

He sighed, shaking his head. Yet affection swelled in his chest, quiet and overwhelming. Darryl stretched, reaching his arms toward the ceiling that was littered with blue prismatic star shaped stickers. He remembered one afternoon, walking in to find you balancing on a ladder. When he asked what you were doing, you glared over at him. “I can’t even see the stars from my window, Darryl,” you had complained. “It’s just nothingness, how sad is that?” 

He then spent two hours that day helping you, dragging that ladder across your dull, carpeted floor. Darryl found that the longer he stared up at the stars now, the more he noticed the edges were beginning to peel and curl inwards.  

Nothing gold can stay, right? 

He stood up, and slowly approached your bed, feeling your gaze burn through him. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he sat by your outstretched legs. You peeked up at him, from behind the magazine, expectantly. 

“You’re leaving this weekend,” he stated, fiddling with his thumbs. 

You sighed, setting the magazine on your stomach. “Yeah, on Saturday.” 

Darryl felt along the words in his mouth, how they sat heavy on his tongue, and contemplated swallowing them. “Are you excited for University?” 

“Of course,” you said, “it’s my one chance to get out of Brooklyn, you know that.” 

“Right,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. A long, stuffy silence hung in the air, as every unasked question between you two began to swell up. 

“You’re headed for Princeton next week, Darryl,” you mentioned, leaning forward to catch his line of sight. “It’s all you talked about growing up, like it was the only University in the entire world. You can’t tell me you’re not excited either.” 

In truth, Darryl was looking forward to attending Princeton. Years of late afternoons and nights spent hunched over textbooks, with notes and pencil shavings cluttering the surface of his desk had paid off. You were there for so many of those nights, a warm presence against his back, with your own nose stuffed in a book. The sound of your pen scratching against your notepad, as you would absentmindedly hum to Jody Watley playing from your headphones. All the while, he would be curled over his desk, muttering equations to himself like a madman. 

He didn’t want to think about you not being there anymore, lounging on his bed as if it were your own, the mattress hugging your already imprinted shape. 

“It’ll be different without you,” he admitted, shrugging as if he could somehow shake off years of your friendship. 

“We’ll still talk, and see each other Darryl,” you said, approaching him. The bed dipped as you curled up beside him, placing your head on his shoulder. Blush rose to his cheeks as your familiar warmth rolled over him, quelling his thoughts. “Long distance isn’t the end of the world,” you assured, intertwining your fingers with his, the curve of your palm fitting perfectly over his own. 

He faintly smiled, and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. Acutely aware of the familiarity coiling around in his stomach at the floral scent of your hairspray. Darryl bathed in the prolonged silence between you two, ignoring the sheer weight of memories pressing down on his hunched shoulders. 

The world spun on. 

[maladaptiveobsession]

“Darryl’s Dismay”

Synopsis: Darryl is forced to reckon with the fact that the figure still haunting his nightmares now haunts your reality.

Contains: gn!reader, angst with no comfort, implied abuse

Words: 600

Upon meeting you, Darryl had initially found you to be quite the curiosity. A young adult, equipped with wisdom beyond your years and carrying yourself with practiced composure and poise. The patrons adored you, which came as little surprise to them: effortlessly charming and playful, yet unafraid to bite back. Not even Darryl was spared from the fever.

Of course, they would never act upon this growing infatuation—as your employer, he owed it to you to keep his thoughts to himself; the power imbalance and age difference were unprofessional at best and downright sinister at worst. No, Darryl was nothing like him.

Suddenly though, your visits to the club dwindled, eyes sunken with exhaustion when you did make an appearance. The smile he’d grown so fond of tightened, only genuinely reaching your eyes when you found his face in the crowd. That confident stride through the club doors at the start of your shift slowly turned into an anxious shuffle. Jumping erratically, eyes shifting constantly as if expecting danger—as if you were worried somebody was going to hurt you. Though you may fool others, he saw right through that shamble of a facade. He could see the fear and anxiety weighing heavy upon your shoulders. Yet, all he could do was watch as you broke down and morphed into somebody unrecognizable. You kept your troubles close to your chest, so Darryl didn’t pry.

Walking along Harvest Street on a cool evening, he wasn’t quite sure why his feet carried him there. Perhaps lost in thought of you. There was a reason he avoided this part of town. Anxiety reared its ugly head; he needed to leave before he had a panic attack.

He turned to leave, but his eyes caught your figure. What were you doing in this part of town? Didn’t you know it wasn’t safe here, especially at this time of night? You were capable, certainly, but the folks here were far different than the customers he hosted. Darryl perhaps knew better than most just how insistent the people who walked these streets could be.

He’d be beside himself if anything happened to you, so he mustered the courage and began towards you, intent to walk you home, or at least as far as you’d allow.

As he neared, nausea sprang upon him. No, that couldn’t be who he thought it was standing next to you. It couldn’t be those hands, which could only take and take, gripping your waist and keeping you pressed against his side. No, he didn’t want to believe it was the headmaster guiding you into a seedy hotel.

Darryl could only watch from across the street, stricken with terror, as you both entered the building, noting the tenseness of your shoulders and the way you tried to put as much space between you both as you could. Everything about your form screamed reluctance and fear—everything shouted for help.

Suddenly, your abrupt change in demeanor was making sense. Suddenly, Darryl is as helpless as he was all those years ago. Suddenly, you and he share far more in common than he could ever wish.

Malicious guilt digs its gnarly claws into his stomach, hunching to spill his guts over the pavement, copious tears spilling over his cheeks. He couldn’t help himself then, and he can’t help you now, willfully complacent to your agony as others were to his all those years ago. No, he is nothing like Leighton, but as he recalls that resigned expression he’s seen in the mirror so many times before settled on your own face, he knows he is no better.

[user16121215]

Guilty Wank - DoL

With all my DoL stories, I will be changing school to university, and the orphanage will just be an apartment complex with Bailey being your landlord instead of caretaker.

All characters in this one have he/him pronouns and male genitalia.

Reader characteristics not specified

TW - I mean, you read the title what do you expect?

Bailey The Landlord:

God fucking damnit how dare you try that shit again! It's not the first time you'd come into his office in the early hours of the morning asking for an extension on your rent. He couldn't tell if you were faking your innocence as part of an act to get him to lower his guard or if you really were that fucking naïve. whatever it was, it was really pissing him off. Especially that little sway of your hips as you left, and just how well your outfit clung to you showing off your body just right. Yeah.. it was on purpose he decided, and he wasn't going to let you get the better of him. He wouldn't succumb to your little tricks. At least not sober anyway.. Bailey wasn't one to lose himself under the influence but it had been a long and tiresome day, and after a few shots of whiskey he found himself pulling his cock out with thoughts of you on his mind.

Darryl:

God he felt just awful about the thoughts invading his mind. He wanted to stop, he really did, but the relief that came from his groin after releasing it told him he was much too far gone now. Darryl thought he'd never feel this way given his experiences and that the feelings he had for you were only temporary, but seeing you all dressed up in your work gear had him crumbling. He knew you had to wear what you did to make a living in this line of work but part of him hoped you wore what you did just for him. He finished up rather quickly once his mind turned to how you would look at him when he was having trouble. Full of care and sympathy he'd never seen from anyone in this hellhole of a town. Ironic that the one person who didn't seem to want to cause him any harm was the one he wanted to hurt him the most.

Eden The Hunter

Eden didn't really jack off anymore after he kidnapped/ found you, and if he did, he certainly didn't feel guilty about it. You were his after all. But there was one memory he had of you that made his whole body shiver whenever it popped into his mind.

He'd found you one day lying almost cold out in the woods, your clothes had all been torn up and you were in such a horrendous state, unable to move or even speak.

He loved it.

He loved the vulnerability, how pathetic you looked and how you were at his complete mercy. It took him months to nurse you back to full health and you were never quite the same after.

You never told him what happened to you, just saying it was one of the worst experiences you've ever had to live through, and that is saying something. That's where the guilt came in. He loved you so much that it hurt him, and knowing that you had suffered at the mercy of this city set him ablaze, but deep down, a horrid little part of him couldn't deny how much he enjoyed it and almost hoped it would happen again.

Kylar The Loner

On some level he knew he was in the wrong but on the other he couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop. With one hand grasped around his cock, your panties providing a delightful friction, and the other holding your sheets to his nose, Kylar was lost to the world and could only focus on how perfect you'd look on his cock instead of your used underwear.

Sydney The Faithful

Darn you. Hand holding? In public!? And you did it so casually too. Like you had no shame, unlike him who refused to even acknowledge the growing strain between his legs. He was grateful the library was so quiet and no one was around to hear his soft moans and whimpers every time he moved and readjusted his increasingly tight pants. Every so often he'd rock back and forth to provide some relief but evidently that only made it worse given how good it felt. Poor Sydney just has to deal with it trying to think of anything else besides how soft your hands felt and how perfectly they fit into his own… hopefully class won't start anytime soon and he can calm himself down before he has to go anywhere..

Whitney The Bully

Whitney didn't feel guilty for anything so he sure as shit won't feel guilty when you come to mind as he's taking care of himself.

No it's not guilt he feels when he thinks of how perfect your face scrunches up at his rude comments, or how pathetic you look groveling at his heels.

It's not guilt he feels when he thinks of how cute you look standing under his umbrella shivering from the cold rain that sticks to your clothes.

It's not guilt he feels when he thinks how nice it would be to see you again.

It's not guilt.. but he does feel something.. he just doesn't know what it is.

The wank session comes to a stop as he realizes he's not in the mood anymore and he just lays there thinking of you. That makes him angry. Angry at you for having interrupted his personal time and leaving him frustrated. A crime that he will not allow to go unpunished. Next time he sees you he's going to make you suffer and take out all his pent up frustration.

[how-serene]

Next To You

Pairing - Darryl x Fem!Reader

Summary - Fed up with your parents' constantly arguing, you confide in Darryl.

Word Count - 1k

Warnings - heavy angst, comfort, reader and darryl are teens, established friendship, darryl being a sweetheart, mentions of an unhealthy marriage, reader just venting, no use of y/n, mother and daughter dynamics

April, 1986

The slam of the front door reverberated throughout the apartment building, shaking the paper thin walls. Your stomps echoed down the stairwell, following you outside. Brooklyn’s humidity stuck to your skin, the dense air almost suffocating. The spring moon hung high in the sky, illuminating down on you. A street lamp flickered, bugs hovering around its dim glow. 

You sat on the front steps, bringing your knees together. Above you, the sounds of your parents' voices spilled through the open window, a series of curses being the only thing you could make out. Embarrassment creeped up your neck, knowing you weren’t the only one who heard them. It felt as if someone had dug their fingers in your heart, splitting it open. 

Your home felt warped, like walking through a fun maze. Mirrors twisted and warped familiar faces, while doors led to inky black spaces that stretched on forever. It was dizzying, knowing every turn you made and door you opened was wrong. The bitter arguments between your parents, where spit and threats would fly, was draining. Yet your mother claimed somewhere beneath all the rubble she loved him. She always had her hands clasped together when she said it, as if it were a prayer. You wondered sometimes, if she was lying. 

But when the kitchen light would get caught on her tears, you knew it was the truth. Despite it all, it was the fucking truth. 

A pair of black loafers appeared beside you, nudging the side of your foot. 

“I heard your door slam…

His voice wormed its way into your head, pulling you back into focus. Darryl sat beside you, his knee knocking against yours. The wool fabric of his coat itched against your bare arm, amplifying the closeness between you two. 

“I just had to get out of there.” You muttered, picking at your nails. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. You two settled in a comfortable silence, as you stared off in the street. A stray dog made its way past, walking along the curb and weaving its way through the silver trash cans. Its shaggy fur was matted, either with dirt build-up or blood. It trotted off, in search of food and a warm corner to rest in. 

“I just…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “I just hate them sometimes, when they get like this. All the constant screaming matches, and anger, every single day.” 

“You shouldn’t say you hate them-

“But I do!” You snapped, looking over at him. Darryl leaned back, flinching from your sudden outburst. You could feel him shifting away from you, the little sliver of distance growing. Shame creeped up your neck, anchoring you to the stone steps. The flicker of anger in you quickly died, replaced by a disgust so deep it waded in your stomach. 

“I’m so sorry, Darryl.” You whispered, a sob working its way up your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes, before overflowing. You could taste their saltiness on the corners of your lips. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Darryl reassured, reaching for your hand. The gloves he wore were warm as they cradled your wrist. You wished he took them off, so you could feel the lines in his palm pressed against yours. 

“I don’t want to be like them.” You confessed, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. “I’m so scared I am, though, that my future is going to be like theirs. Settled with a dead-beat man, no career, while finding every excuse to stay.” 

Tears dribbled down your cheek, blurring your vision. The realization that you might be like your mother was nauseating. Perhaps this was every daughter's fate, to realize their body was never their own, but their mother’s. Every-time you looked in the mirror, the smallest feature was a reminder of her. You wondered, if you peeled back your skin, would you find her underneath? 

Darryl tugged at your hand, a silent plea for you to look at him. His wide doe eyes shimmered, as he reached up and swiped at your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You clutched onto his wrist, bottom lip quivering as you bit back a cry. 

“You’re not like them.” He stated, the gravity of his words stalling your racing thoughts. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because…” He stalled, licking his lips. “You’re too good to ever be like them. You don’t hurt others just for the sake of hurting them. God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You're wonderful, I wish you believed that.” 

“I yelled at you though, just like they do all the time.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t yell at me, though. You were just upset about your parents.” 

You sighed, feeling the fight leave your body. His words echoed in your mind, but you weren’t sure if you believed them. The shattered remnants of your mother were still inside you, as with every daughter. It waded inside you, stirring the core of your stomach. 

“I wish I could just pack up and leave.” You said, leaning into his side. Darryl placed his arm over your shoulders, pressing you into the crook of his neck. You could smell the cologne on the collar of his coat, mint with rosemary. 

“You will, one day.” He promised, placing his chin on the top of your head. “I’ll be there with you, when you finally do.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait for one day, Darryl.” You said, the words carrying an unknown weight in your mouth. With each passing day, you felt your soul splinter more and more. 

Darryl must have sensed it, his fingers faintly dug into your arm, keeping you beside him. The threat of you suddenly up and disappearing was too close. 

“Hold on a bit longer, for me.” He pleaded, voice shaking. 

The warm night air ruffled the back of your hair, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe you were anywhere else. 

[slxsherwriter]

Not so Quiet Town

Fandom: Old 37/Bill Moseley characters

Pairing: Darryl x female reader

Word Count: 2,614

Warnings: Mentions of murder

A/N: I rewrote this twice and am still unsure of the ending. Basically, I wanted to play on the duality of Darryl's character. I think there was a genuine attempt at a date with the mother before realizing what exactly it was he thought he was seeing. So, why not? Is soft his default? No, I don't believe so, but I think he is capable and even more so given the circumstances I threw in here. Hopefully, you enjoy!

Watching the elderly woman struggle to get the groceries into the car, you noticed that no one else was giving two shits, stepping up to help. Well, that just wouldn't do. You tossed the two bags that you were carrying into your truck before jogging over to where her car was. It was clear that she had some difficulty moving, given her age probably some arthritis at the minimum.

"Can I help you get those into the car, ma'am?" She startled a bit, which made you happy that you had kept a respectful distance between you still. There were plenty of people that would take offence to the offer of help, especially around here, a small town were most were used to providing for themselves. If she said no, you would back off.

"That is very kind of you dear. If You don't mind." You offered her a smile, still waiting to step forward, not wanting to crowd her.

"Not at all." When she stepped back, that was your cue to move forward. Carefully, you began to load the car. There was more than you expected but you knew better than to question. You had no idea of her situation. Nor did you have any right to inquire. Just as you got the last bag into the car, an angry sounding voice called out.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" It was your turn to be startled, almost stumbling back from the car before you caught your balance. The look on the face of the man approaching the car matched the anger in his voice. Immediately, your hands shot up in an innocent gesture. Admittedly, that was more the reaction that you had been expecting.

"I was just…" Before you could finish your explanation, you were cut off by the woman that you had just helped.

"Calm down, Darryl. This nice young lady was just helping me get the groceries in the car while you finished up. She's been nothing but polite and helpful." As she spoke and reassured the man that everything was okay, some tension leaked from his frame. He still looked distrusting, but he wasn't about to physically approach anymore. A fact that you were thankful for. A fight in the grocery store parking lot was the last thing that was needed. No good deed went unpunished.

"I didn't mean any harm. I saw that she was having a hard time getting the bags in the car and thought I would offer my help. Didn't do anything until she gave me the okay."

"Go on and get in the car, Mom." Ah, okay that explained the man's protective nature. You stepped back further, offering a soft smile.

"Thank you very much, dear."

"You're welcome." She shifted around the car slowly to be able to get in. It left the two of you in a slightly awkward silence. "I'll just get going…"

"Thank you," he sighed out. It caught you off guard. Being thanked was not what you expected. Giving a small shake of your head, you were quick to assure him.

"It was really no big deal. No one else was stepping up to help, and it looked like your eggs were about to hit the floor."

"You're new around here, aren't you." That wasn't the first time that you had heard that this week alone.

"It's that obvious, is it?" You held out your hand for the man, giving your name since you already had the advantage of knowing his.

" Well, thank you again. I'm sure we will see you around."

***********

While the town itself was decently large, most of it was more rural, so the population wasn't all that big. That resulted in you running into both Darryl and Martha a few times over the next few weeks as you settled in. Each time, a friendly conversation was struck. Darryl became increasingly more relaxed at each interaction, even going so far as giving you a friendly and welcoming smile the last few interactions. 

There were some whispers around town, but you hardly paid attention to them. If every person was judged by their past, well, everyone would be screwed. What mattered was how he acted now, mainly how he acted with you. 

The brash and aggressive personality was certainly there, though not as upfront as it had been in that first meeting. He loosened up further as you spent time helping out his mother, who had taken a shine to you. Mainly through some volunteer work that you were doing at the church. Martha had recognized you and instantly seemed to latch onto you. Not that you minded. She was kind. A woman of faith where you had lost yours. She didn't judge and simply was happy for some companionship and help outside of her family. 

Of course, you weren't quite aware of the way that she watched you interact with her son or the way that a bit of happiness sparked in her when she was present for those meetings. 

It had gotten to the point that Darryl trusted you enough to pick her up from the salvage yard, where they also lived. It had become almost routine. You would pick Martha up on Sunday mornings for her church service and then a little afternoon lunch and outing. Sunday mornings turned into another three outings throughout the weekend. Always scheduled and never random but that worked for you. 

Darryl had taken to greeting you at the entrance to the yard, the two of you chatting about this, and that, nothing specifically as Martha made her way down. You enjoyed the time with the older woman, but you had to admit that you began to really look forward to the chats between the two of you. It really came as no surprise when he finally asked you out for a coffee.

Coffee turned into dinners, dinners into late night drives with stargazing. Random talks turned a little more serious. Neither of you talked about the past, focused only on the future. There was a soft side to the man that you were privileged to see. A side that you found yourself liking more and more. It was easy, and he seemed to appreciate that you didn't expect anything of him besides some respect and time to enjoy one another.

**********************************

Two months had passed, and things couldn't have been looking better for you. There was an easy routine that allowed for the stability that you had been seeking. Volunteer work, spending time helping Martha, dates with Darryl, and working in the small home that you had purchased kept you plenty busy. In a good way.

It was comfortable enough that you didn't recognize the signs of being followed. For the past week, something had seemed off, but it was nothing that pulled too hard at the front of your mind. You simply brushed the feeling off as a result of the recurring nightmare that had played you for the week, which had led to a distinct lack of sleep. Anything else seemed silly and never entered your conscious thoughts. Darryl had noticed something, making a comment on it during your date two nights ago. You had promised him it was simply from you not sleeping well, not wanting to go into detail on what the nightmare was about.

Maybe you should have. Maybe offloading would have helped ease some of the tension and help stop the nightmare. That would have let you sleep better, which in turn may have let you spot the car that had been following you to the salvage yard. Just as you pulled up to the entrance, lights flashed behind you.

"You've got to be kidding me." A cop really decided to pull you over? You hadn't been speeding, and you knew for certain that nothing was wrong with the truck. Scrubbing a hand down your face, you looked behind you and frowned. It was an unmarked car. Now that was unusual, and you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing. Something was wrong. That was an instinct you had learned to trust a long time ago. Still, you remained in your car and as relaxed as possible. There were no cameras at the front of the yard. Which meant that Darryl or Jon Roy would have no idea what was going on.

With the window already down, you were getting ready to ask what was wrong, but you were never given the chance. A large hand reached through the window, grabbing the back of your neck and slamming your head forward. Pain blossomed outward from your nose, and your ears were ringing almost immediately. The action stunned you long enough for the man to pull you from the car, one arm wrapped around your torso before cold metal was pressed to your temple. Your head was clearing enough for you to realize that. You could feel the blood leaking down from your busted nose. That was going to be a bitch come tomorrow.

"This is how this is going to go. You are going to get this gate open, and then we are going to find the two degenerates that run this place. The ones that killed my daughter." Killed his daughter? What the hell was this man going on about? You didn't have any choice besides to play along. You just hoped that Darryl or Jon Roy would be around, see what was happening and get help. "Anything I don't like, I put a bullet in your brain. Do you understand?" 

'I understand." Your mind was racing to figure out how you could get out of the situation. If he hadn't gotten the jump on you, you may have been in a better position. Reaching into your pocket carefully, you produced the key that Martha had given you. You shuffled forward, the man still pressed against your back. As long ashedidn't check your hip…

Getting in was easy. But there still hadn't been an opportunity that presented itself for you to try and get away or gain an upper hand.

"Come on out you sick fucks! I know you are here. You wanna take away something of mine, then I'm gonna take away something of yours." The gun was pressed harder against your head Enough so, you were forced to tilt to accommodate the pressure with gritted teeth. As your eyes jumped around, you didn't spot either of the boys.

"Woah, woah, woah. What's going on here?" That was Darryl. After a second, his form appeared from around a nearly junked car. His hands were in the air, though that anger that you didn't often see anymore, was so clearly present.

"Don't play dumb, asshole. You may have others fooled, but I'm not. Once a twisted fucker, always one. That record of yours was easy to pull up. And all the missing people along this stretch of road? I don't know how anyone didn't put it together sooner. You and that deformed brother of yours are behind it all."

"Listen, I don't know what you think you know, but you got it all wrong. I haven't been in trouble since I got out…"

"I tracked her phone here! I know she was here. The last place that she ever came. " Darryl was doing a good job of distracting the man. It was now a question where Jon Roy was. Something that the man was acutely aware of, unfortunately. "Where is your brother?" 

"I'm not his keeper. How the hell should I know where he is?" You subtly tried to shift your lower half away from the man. Creating a little space would give you the chance to throw a blow or slip from his grasp. Either would work right now.

"Bullshit. He doesn't show himself in the next fifteen seconds, I'm shooting her now. Then I'll shoot you." With the underlying hint of something in his voice, that unhinged nature, you actually believed that he would do that. So, there was no time to waste. 

"You know, if you were coming here, guns blazing, I would have thought that you would have had a slightly better plan than this. Really it's a shit attempt at trying to get what you want. Two on one, the odds weren't ever in your favor." The man behind you let out a cry. There was little time to react before your balance was thrown forward, though his grip didn't exactly leave you. Cursing, you tried to twist out of the hold as the man swung around. The loud crack of gunfire echoed out. Ithad been aimed at Jon Roy, who wasn't hit and tried taking another whack at the man. The momentum was something that you tried to take advantage of, toring to continue the motion through. Managing, you broke free, but stumbled in the process.The gun was aimed at you this time. it was only that continued motion of the stumble that the shot missed your chest and caught your arm.

"Fuck!" It sent you to the ground. The sound of rushing footsteps came, likely signalling that Darryl had moved forward. He still had the gun though, which put the brothers at a disadvantage. Rolling to your back, your good hand patted your side in a near frantic motion. Don't panic. It was the only thing running through your head. Finding the handle of your own gun, the action was all but muscle memory, practiced ease before the trigger was pulled.

Both Jon Roy and Darryl jumped back as the man's body hit the ground.

"Son of a bitch!" With a heaving breath, your head hit the ground. Between the throbbing, pulsing pain the gunshot wound in your arm and the slightly less sharp pain in your face, You couldn't be bothered by the reactions. 

"Is he dead?" You would need to get the bullet out of your shoulder. Hopefully, the two would be able to help you with that.

"Don't think there is a doubt about that." There was a moment of silence. Then Darryl was standing over you. There was that hard look still on his face. He went to open his mouth but you cut him off.

"Good. Now, can you help me up and help me get this damn bullet out of my shoulder?" This could turn into a proper nightmare. If what the man said was true though, maybe there was another path to travel. After another second, an almost disbelieving laugh came from him.

"You serious?"

"Darryl, I have a bullet in my damn arm. Yes, I'm serious. I can dig it out but I will need some help." He knelt down, an arm going underneath your shoulders to help you getup into a seated position.

"You just shut someone dead and you're more concerned with that?" Distrusting. That was what his tone was. Something you hadn't heard in the past two months. 

"It's not the first person that I've shot and killed. Frankly, the bullet is my first priority. The second will be figuring that shit out so nothing comes back on you and your family." His arm tightened around your shoulder but it wasn't from anger or distrust. That was far more the comforting touch that you had come to expect.

"Let's get you up on your feet. Jon Roy's got him." There was confirmation. Clutching your arm, you got to your feet with his help. "So, not the first person you've killed?" Was that a hint of pride in his voice? Seemed that quiet wasn't quite what you were going to have in this small town. At least not anymore.

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Tag list: @run-rabbitt-run || @jackalopes-eat-bacon

[how-serene]

Talk Slow

Pairing - Darryl x Neutral!Reader

Summary - A late night conversation leads to Darryl finally being honest with you.

Word Count - 776

Warnings - darryl and reader are teens, angst, comfort, darryl crying, mentions of school pressure and bullying, no use of y/n

A/N - This fic kind of came out of left field, sorry about that. Yes, this is technically a Michael Jackson fic. I just have so much love for this short film.

July, 1986

Music played from a speaker, filling in the long stretches of silence. Clothes were strewn around the hamper, a wrinkled t-shirt hung off the rim of the basket. A stack of textbooks were piled high on the desk beside you, with loose sheets of paper cluttering the surface. His coat was haphazardly thrown on the chair, crumbled in a ball. One thing you could always count on was Darryl’s room to be a mess. 

In the beginning, when you first started visiting, he made sure to keep his space tidy. Now with all the familiar years between you, the worry of keeping up appearances slowly dwindled. The thought made you feel fuzzy, knowing he was comfortable with you. 

His head fell against your shoulder, as you two laid back on his bed. The sheets were tossed back, as the dull green comforter was bunched up beneath you. Darryl’s curled black hair tickled your cheek, smelling of sweet hairspray.  

“You could at least make your bed.” You complained, staring up at the ceiling. His shoulders shook as he chuckled, further leaning into your side. Darryl’s body was warm, it radiated off of him like a heater. You sank deeper into the mattress, that squeaked with the tiniest bit of movement. 

“Yes, mother.” He snorted, nudging his elbow into your ribcage. You scoffed, smacking him in the chest. An infectious smile grew on his lips, bright as July’s full moon peeking through the window. His wide eyes met yours, sparkling with amusement. 

“Are you excited for the new school year to start?”

Darryl’s eyes dimmed, becoming unfocused as he weighed his answer. He folded his hands as if in prayer, and rested them on his chest. You waited, watching as various thoughts crossed over his face. The disc jockey's voice came through the radio, interrupting the stream of music. 

“And that was Sweet Love by Anita Baker, from her new album-

Darryl shrugged. “I guess so.” 

“That’s not really much of an answer.” You said, shifting onto your side. You propped yourself up, placing your chin in the palm of your hand. Darryl stared up at you, his dark eyes tracing over your features. He sighed, finally caving. 

“I can’t wait for it to be over with, you know.” He softly said, avoiding your gaze now. “The classes are fine, and all. I just want to graduate already, and get out of there.” 

You silently listened, feeling the confines of your heart slowly crack at his words. He gnawed on his bottom lip, struggling to keep the words hidden behind his teeth. 

“I just-

He swallowed harshly, clearing his throat. 

You grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The music streaming through the speakers faded into the background, as you gave your full attention to Darryl. He rapidly blinked, fighting back the prickling sensation of tears swelling in the corner of his eyes. A tear slid down his cheek, landing on the collar of his blue sweatshirt. You reached out, the pad of your fingertip brushing against his cheek as a sob racked through his body. 

“I want to get out of Brooklyn, as soon as it’s over with.” He confessed, taking a shaky breath. He squeezed your hand, ensuring you were really there. 

“Darryl?” You whispered, staring down at him. He refused to meet your eyes, choosing to stare at your interlaced hands. 

“Is there something going on at the prep school?” You finally asked, pushing past whatever barrier there was. Your heart clenched, as his big wet eyes glanced up at you. They reminded you of a child when scolded, as if he had done something wrong. As if talking to you like this was wrong. 

“Just guys being guys, is all.” He sniffled, wiping at his nose. 

You frowned. “That shouldn’t be an excuse for them.” 

He nonchalantly shrugged, as if nothing could be done. The skin around his eyes were red, as he harshly rubbed at them. He clenched his jaw, biting back a new fresh set of tears. They clung onto his eyelashes, yet didn’t fall.  

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

You nodded, laying back down by his side. His hand never left yours, keeping it pressed against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your palm. He was quiet now, listening to the radio, if only to find an excuse not to speak. Darryl began to hum along, but it didn’t follow the song currently playing. You snuggled into the crook of his neck, listening to his melodic humming. 

Outside the window, Brooklyn’s desolate night sky never looked so black.

[hcwait]

⎯ ׄ ༘ darryl!michael jackson ❤︎︎ rival's sister!reader ╱you hadn’t planned on seeing him that night. in fact, you wanted to get away from the toxic grip your brother had on you—acting like he was some sort of father to you—trying to control your every move. yet you were forced to stick around him, since it was dangerous for you to move around the sketchy neighborhood alone.

the sun had long since disappeared below the city skyline, leaving only the orange glow of streetlights and flickering neon signs from nearby storefronts. after another argument with your brother, one you were growing increasingly tired of having, you’d slipped out of your bedroom window onto the fire escape and wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood.

you ended up at an abandoned apartment building just a couple blocks up your street, not too far. you just needed somewhere quiet, somewhere you could be alone. the stairs creaked beneath your feet the whole way up til you were met with the door to the rooftop. pushing it open, a figure who was already sitting up there startled you.

“shit!” you hollered and jumped back, causing the figure to turn around. you were met with the familiar pair of sad doe eyes that were now slightly narrowed due him now laughing.

“sorry. didn’t mean to scare you.” darryl finally said after composing himself.

“what are you doing?” your hand was rested on your chest as your heart practically was beating out of it. your tone was somewhere in the mix of concerned and stern.

“me?” he referred to himself innocently, “you’re the one sneakin’ around abandoned buildings at night.”

“i could say the same for you.”

he raised his eyebrows slightly, you got him there. “fair enough.” for a moment, neither of you said anything else. the lights illuminated the city stretched across in front of you. your first instinct was to make your way back to the door, leaving him be as he was alone in the first place.

“hey.” he called out. you glanced over your shoulder back towards his direction. daryl nodded toward the empty spot beside him. “you can stay if you want.”

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “and why would i do that?” a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“‘cause you climbed six flights of stairs lookin’ for somewhere quiet, i assume.” he looked back out over the city. “i just happened to have already found it.”

you hated how quickly you smiled cause from that moment on that would be your guys’ designated spot. everytime something happened with the gangs or whenever you and your brother argued and fought, or when darryl was frustrated with his crew, you two would end up on there.

you learned some of his secrets and he learned some of yours, you two were able to communicate with each other so easily—realizing that darryl really isn’t what your brother said he is.