#That last one is my oc Andrea : )

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

As of late Ive been doing alot of these Vigilante drawings with my paint markers and I like how they've been turning out. So quick Vigilante dump for everyone. Thank you

[crebbyhermit]

go soft under touch

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (ii) - pt 1 here!!

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : matt is still a grumpy ass but y/n can't seem to get him off of her mind.

warnings : idk uhhh matt’s rude but in a love hate kinda way 😋! also alcohol/drinking (i headcannon everyone 21+!)

mickey speaks : shes finally hereeeee and shes kinda long. im hoping to post more consistently!! luv u guys enjoy <3 ignore the fact that the pic above has a yt girl in it this story is for everyone i promise !!!! i just liked the little green vibe ok? ok.

THIS IS PART TWO GO READ PART ONE FIRST DUH!!!!

AND of course you see matt again.

only a month ago, you were introduced and forced to spend an hour of your time in close proximity to him, no matter his disinterest. yet, also, only a month ago, were you gifted with the cutest tiny tattoo that continues to surprise you a little whenever you lift your shirt before a warm shower.

it hasn’t bothered you nearly as much as you'd assumed - only disrupting your life with the caution you now take to avoid irritating the skin at your lower stomach. though some nights you grow lazy, you’ve maintained a very disciplined attitude of incorporating time in your morning and nightly rituals to ensure the tiny hello kitty inked on you is properly cared for.

contrary, your interactions with matt bothered you far more than you assumed. your sub-concious must've held onto your attempts to break past his careless attitude (that greatly opposed your own people-pleasing nature) just to pettily haunt you. but you've you forced yourself to get over it at this point. you just had to after one night, the week following your tattoo appointment (and after a long day of rude professors and pretentious customers blaming you for their own mistakes), you broke down to andrea:

you sniffle before your voice breaks again, "everyone's just mean. and- and i was so fucking annoying last saturday. it keeps playing over in my head. i'm so embarrassed and i just know he hated me, but i dont know why?! i thought i was nice enough. he could've just smiled or maybe just- i-"

andrea pauses from petting your head, "honey, you're not still talking about the guy who tatted you, right?" you look up at her from your head's soft spot in her lap with glossy eyes and a quivering lip.

"dre-" you choke.

"oh my god! no! y/n, you can't take shit like that personal. not everyone enjoys talking or happiness for that matter, you can't hold on to something like that. i promise he's not too hung up on it himself." she wipes away one of your pitiful tears.

and here he is, standing across the room from you at a party.

you definitely did not expect to see matt (who’s mild attitude was clearly fueled by socializing) in this scene but you guess that la parties are just like that. as long as you know someone who knows someone you’re easily in, that's how you tend to get into these events at least. though an insta stalk would tell you matt has enough clout to get himself in, he and his brothers have built quite the brand for themselves among la socialites.

once your eyes spot him over the shoulder of some guy who just introduced himself to you, they can’t seem to move. you watch as matt smiles for a photo with a few others. matt. smiles. okay, so maybe it was a you problem. he doesn’t hate everyone maybe just you.

though, your thoughts are denied as quickly as his face drops. he doesn’t even care to look at how the image may have turned out like the rest of the group. instead, his eyes opt to watching the people around him as he sips his weak drink.

great, now you’ve become the weirdo watching him watch other people.

until his eyes catch your cautious yet curious stare from across the room. your cheeks heat and you’re immediately shifting your eyes back to the man in front of you.

matt almost smirks at his luck. no fucking way the scared sweetheart he’d tattooed just a few weeks ago is here. he looks away when someone lays a hand on his shoulder to bring him back into the conversation. you're surprised that he continues to look back over to you after adding his input.

the guy finally acknowledges your disengagement with the story about his new motorcycle and turns to see what exactly you’re staring at. he sees matt and turns back to you, “you know him?”

“yeah. well not like know-know we only met once, he gave me a tattoo.”

“oh, cool,” he looks back over to matt and turns back to you once again, “is he bothering you?”

your face scrunches initially, “no, it’s fine.” you smile at him, not wanting to give him the impression that matt did anything but exist (which apparently is enough to capture your attention).

“good. wanna go grab another drink and tell me more about this tattoo?” a charming smile morphs on face and you nod your head easily, taking his hand and leading him towards the bar outside of this large home. and away from matt.

“two-” you look over to the man beside you, “wait is this an open bar?” you ask him genuinely and he laughs a little at your aloofness.

“yeah,” he nods.

“perfect, we’ll take two kamikaze shots pretty please!” you smile at the bartender who seems to be enjoying her night quite a bit and squeeze his hand when you realize it’s still in your own. he looks down at your attached hands then back to you.

you turn your body to face him more directly and lean up to his ear, cupping your hand and whispering, “i’m so sorry, i think i forgot your name.” you were starting to feel bad and just had to confess.

you lean back and bite your lip to hide an awkward smile, and he somehow smiles harder than he already was, “it’s-”

“ashton!” you hear a voice yell hurriedly and now some dark haired guy is pulling him away from you and repeatedly saying “code red!” in his face. and suddenly, without any indication he’d enjoyed your short lived time together, he’s gone.

you try not to sulk but he was an attractive guy with easy conversation, so you at least hoped to get his number by the end of the night.

instead, you’re left leaning against the bar hoping those shots come around soon. you decide to update your friends on your night:

Y/N

cute guy lefttttt :(

REMI

noooooo he was so cute 😫

Y/N

don’t remind me

ANDREA

where r you now???

Y/N

outside bar, im waiting on shots

Y/N

come find me💔💔

your head shoots up from your phone when three guys practically ram themselves into the bar near you, a few people around them laughing obnoxiously.

"god damnit, chris! we said we were going slowly!"

"shhhh. you are so loud, matt!"

“excuse me, can we get some water? none of the sparkles or bubbles and shit, just water, please.”

“next time i'm speaking for myself! what if i wanted the bubbles?”

you lean your head a little to get a full view of the three recognizable faces. chris, with his arms dangled over his two brothers’ shoulders clearly obliterated and slurring his words (but excited to be there nonetheless). a blonde one, you haven’t gotten the chance to meet yet, with two nose piercings and a commanding voice. and matt, with his signature pout, even poutier now that chris’ weight is causing him to hunch over slightly. you guess you were bound to run into them.

you wonder if andrea was right in saying matt hadn’t held onto your exchange. you wonder if when he saw you earlier he remembered you for your friendly smile rather than your annoying nagging. or did he even remember you at all? did he only look at you because you were staring him down first? okay, where the fuck are those shots?!

“no way!" you hear chris’ voice screech upon recognizing you from across the bar, "y/n!?”

you look over and see him shockingly excited to see your face again. you smile in an attempt to not allow your nerves about matt get to you. you are never one to deny a conversation after all.

“oh my god! hi!” you reply as chris unwraps himself from his brothers and moves closer to you.

“how’s your tat treatin’ you?” his eyes express so much excitement he reminds you of a little kid. you’re very flattered to see someone feel so much emotion due to your mere presence.

“oh, it’s still so cute, no regrets so far. i love it.” you smile and he nods while you’re speaking.

he turns around and sees his brothers and a few friends remaining in the other side of the bar talking amongst themselves. “yo, get the fuck over here! why are you guys so far?” he encourages them with a hand wave.

you wave as well, trying not to be a total stranger- even if you are.

the blonde guy leads them over and hands chris a glass of water that must’ve been waiting on him.

“cheers,” chris smirks and takes a sip before a disgusted look takes over his face, “gross. my god! why do they make this shit so bland?”

the blonde boy rolls his eyes in amusement, mumbling, "just drink it," before approaching you kindly. "hey, i’m nick by the way."

“y/n, nice to meet you! i met chris and matt when i got my tattoo done at your shop a while ago.” you explain kindly.

before nick can get another word in a female voice is squealing, “you’re y/n?! hi, i’m asha, i don't know if your remember but we talked on the phone that one time!” a tanned girl with soft cheeks and dark loose curls moves herself in front of the boys.

“of course i remember, how could i forget that insane frog story? it's so nice seeing you in person finally!” you gush.

suddenly chris is beaming, “aww wait guys this is so cute! i’m feeling like we should all hug!” he nods to his brothers who are quick to shake their heads no.

“i don’t think..” nick starts.

“nooo! let’s hug!” chris argues and opens his arms wide gesturing for everyone to hug him.

౨ৎ

after sharing a very drunk and messy group hug you all continue to talk until chris finally blurts, "i gotta go pee so bad guys, " he laughs, "but i need people with me because if i walk in on someone puking, then what? i'll die from my severe" (its not severe at all) "emetophobia and no one will ever know?"

you and asha (who you've found is actually so similar to you) both laugh at his crisis.

matt just breathes a laugh.

"chris, there’s no reason to go further with the fear factor when no one said they wouldn't come with you. i’m coming, so you're not gonna die, let's go." nick shakes his head.

“you don’t understand, nick i would be dead and covered in- i can’t even say it, dude,” chris’ voice fades as they walk away.

"wait, i'll walk with you guys inside! 'm... getting cold out here!" asha suddenly says removing herself from your side and waving goodbye with a drunk smile.

"it's not cold at all, she's trippin'" matt speaks watching her run and practically jump onto nick, causing the three laugh while leaving the crowded yard.

you just shrug and lean onto the bar again, making eye contact with the bartender who looks as if she only just remembered your existence but also seems to mentally question where the other guy went and how you managed to replace him that quickly.

"are you always so nice about everything?" matt questions, leaning his forearms on the bar, still looking at you.

"what?" you look over to him now, feeling almost sick at his proximity.

he mocks you with a high tone in his voice, "'it's soooo nice to meet you! it's soooo nice seeing you!' it sounds exhausting, to be honest."

"didn't realize having manners got you jail time," you breathe.

"and i never said it did."

"well, i don't have to be nice to you if it bothers you so much," you shrug.

"aw, sunshine, you'd do that for me? you're too sweet." he almost laughs at his own sarcastic comment.

you lick your bottom lip out of habit, "why are you still here? don't you have friends you should be ignoring?" you hope he can't tell just how frustrated he's making you.

“you must think you know me.”

“i know you don’t like me.”

“wrong, again.” he smiles and points his finger at you.

“oh, you just don’t like anyone then?”

he glances away before responding, “what's the fun in telling you?”

you huff in defeat, wanting nothing more than those shots right now. though your subconcious hopes the bartender continues to prioritize her flirting customers over you just so you can continue this addicting back and forth with matt.

"you know, that’s the thing with people like you. you think everyone owes you everything." he shakes his head.

"people like me?” you scoff under your breath, “matt, why are you still here?"

he can pick out the offense in your tone, "oh shit, that was true? i was fucking with you, sunny!"

"you don't know anything about me," you laugh and shake your head.

"alright there are those kamikaze shots for you! so sorry about that major delay, honey!" the bartender sets the shots in front of the both of you and smiles at you apologetically.

"don't worry about it, thank you!" you hand her a spare five dollar bill from your back pocket.

when she's gone you finally notice matt's widened eyes.

"what's up with your face, now?"

"you gave her a tip for pouring you some rankydank, fuckin' low level shots after you've waited long enough for her to apologize?" he seems genuinely shocked.

"she only makes money off of tips," you roll your eyes, picking the shot up and gesturing towards the second shot for him to take.

"that's all you," he raises his hands towards his chest.

"oh my god, do it, matt."

he shakes his head and points to you, "you take your shot, sweetheart."

"i knew you wouldn't, pussy," you say under your breath before smirking as you down the alcohol you've been craving since you first saw his face.

upon your insult matt is immediately taking the shot along side you. and just as both of your faces adjust to the taste, matt's phone begins to vibrate.

he grabs it and you attempt to hide your own curiosity by asking the bartender for a lime to suck on (not daring to ask for alcohol again because you simply don't want to be hung up at this bar for any longer).

"yeah, yeah still here," matt plays with his bottom lip and looks down at you with your mouth full of lime. he thinks you look pretty adorable, especially under the blush pink fairy lights hanging above the bar. "'kay, i'll be quick. alright, nick. i will. bye."

he puts his phone away and wipes his mouth, "that shit was fucking vile, by the way."

"okay, drama queen."

"mhm," his face falters back into his usual pout, "well i gotta go, but, um, nick wanted me to invite you to this get together thing we host at the warehouse, it's in like a month but, you know, come if you want." he shrugs.

"tell him of course i will, but only because he asked." you smile sarcastically.

౨ৎ

ANDREA - 12:39 AM

y/n where are you we are both so confused rn help

ANDREA - 12:45 AM

hellooo????

ANDREA - 12:47 AM

GIRL WE'RE OUTSIDE AND WE DONT SEE YOU TF

Y/N - 1:06 AM

WHERE ARE U GUYS RN I JSUT SAW TATTOO GUY AGASSN IM LOSUNG MY MIND JUST A LUTTLE BIT

Y/N - 1:06 AM

I WAS AT THE OTHER OITSIDE BAR IN THE FRONT(?) YARD!!!!! but its ok im gonba find u guys

౨ৎ

a few days later matt comes across your instagram story, forgetting he had followed you in the first place. it was a picture of you and your friends from the same night he had seen you again. it's a simple mirror photo where you're all smiling but besides your soft skin and cute outfit, matt's attention focuses on frank ocean's pyramids playing over the story.

you see the notification later that day when you finally get time on your phone:

matthew.sturniolo liked your story

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[kapi-tanka]

thanks to chimaerakid, werewolfnoir and f3arofmusic for inspiration! had so much fun drawing these, more about my characters will be under the cut. honestly i'm obsessed with this meme template now. i wish there were more fallout oc symbolism drawings. so um.. mutuals and fallout people in general, maybe you want to draw these too? maybe it could become some sort of a tag, even? (i hope it's okay to tag you. i'd tag even more people but it's too much tags already and i'm not sure if some of you have ocs)

template

i'm tagging: @asougi-engineerin @auntiemurdoc @crystallizedmiracle @hatmause @cyberobsessed @thebigolbee @datura-tea @boowomp @plasma-packin-mama @xykcta @somethingaboutmint @fnvne @wastelandhell @milramemo @thapunqueen @zeniffzen @super-shishkebab

i basically have 3 couriers who are relatives. my main one is oscar, but there's also his sibling andrea/andy and their uncle ovidio aka the ramirez of their family (oscar and andy are almost never referred to by their last name). all of them exist in the same timeline but they don't interact much during the events of the game (because of lots of family drama basically). i made three main characters because i feel like oscar can't cover a lot of fnv content due to lack of time plus dlcs don't match his vibes at all. so andy is my old world blues and dead money protag, and ovidio is honest hearts and lonesome road protag. i "gave" them some base game content too.

andy travels with raul and lily, she's a huge non-humans sympathizer. ovidio travels with cass and boone and he's very ncr-aligned. and my man oscar works towards the independence with arcade and veronica. i'm glad to tell more if you're interested!

[callmewrinkles3]

All Too Well - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: Saying goodbye is hard. Saying goodbye to your family without telling them it’s a final goodbye is even harder. But Em has come to terms that Dan doesn’t love her the same way she loves him, and leaving on her own terms will hurt less than being told he’s ending things. March 2022.

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: fighting, all the angst this bad boy can carry, lil bit of a dickhead!Dan, running away from your friends, mentions of death, mentions of motorsport crashes and deaths, moving without telling anyone, lying to family, talk of medical procedures, frank talks about what people want to happen if they can’t decide.

A/N: We’ve kept you waiting, but we hope this was worth the wait! This part of our story is what started us on this madcap adventure together, and it’s a lot of what makes our beloved Em Em. Thank you in advance!

Em stared at the two boarding passes in front of her as she sat in the fancy Heathrow lounge, a caramel latte beside them. Heathrow to Dubai, Dubai to Melbourne. More than twenty hours spent on planes to get to Melbourne, to jump into work and get stuck in at the Australian Grand Prix. And it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She should be excited. She should be so happy because she was about to see the boys after over a week apart, she was about to see Dan. She was finally going to get to see the Ricciardos after almost two years apart. But she was dreading it, the memories from Saudi filling her head as she thought. Em forced her attention to the laptop sitting on her knees, emails up and the one she never thought she’d write sitting in the middle of the screen.

SUB: Resignation Letter

From: emmy@.ric3.com

To: blake@.ric3.com

Dear Blake,

Please use this email as my official resignation, effective immediately. I’m sorry that I can’t offer any more notice.

Working with you has been fantastic, and I appreciate everything we’ve gotten to do over the past three years.

Kind regards,

Emma.

Signing it Emma felt wrong. Emma was for Zak Brown and Andreas Sidle. Christian Horner had used it the one time she was introduced to him at Red Bull. She was always Em or Ems now. Except for Dan, she was his Emmy. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Or ever again. If he called her that she thought she might lose the last grip she had on her composure and break.

The email was scheduled and sitting in her outbox to send after the race, and the last thing she did before boarding was reschedule her flight home. Instead of leaving Monday morning with the boys, she was going on Sunday evening. She’d be somewhere over Queensland by the time Blake received the email and the boys would be at least twelve hours behind her. It was enough time to make sure she could be well ahead of them and get away.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be smiling and laughing, and she was supposed to be in Perth right now cuddling her niblings and laughing with Grace and Joe. Learning to cook yet another family recipe and insisting that she and Dan were just friends. She couldn’t even answer the question honestly if they were friends now.

He’d sent her away. The one thing she begged him not to do, the pinkie promise she’d made him give. The only promise she had ever asked him to keep. Not to stay safe while driving, not to do anything else. Not to leave her alone. The near screaming match they’d had in his drivers room that Blake and Michael had to break up. The way he didn’t even look at her but told Blake to “take Ems to the hotel”. How she had tears streaming down her face as she was escorted through the paddock like she wasn’t supposed to be there.

She still didn’t fully believe that she’d dropped her phone in the car. Em shouldn’t even have been in the car alone with Blake, but Dan insisted she went to the hotel room so she went. She was left there alone in Saudi Arabia, where Dan knew she couldn’t leave the hotel. She stared out the window at the smoke from the rockets, completely alone all night until Michael knocked on her door the following morning and she had to pretend everything was fine.

She’d worked from hospitality and as soon as the race finished she changed her flights to go back to London instead of Perth, making up an excuse. And Dan bought that she was going back for her parents.

“Family stuff.” She’d said when he asked.

“Em, you don’t talk to your family much.” She was folding clothes into her case, the one she’d brought that had her Australia clothes already standing fully packed.

“Yeah, but it’s family. My parents have their thirty fifth wedding anniversary in a few weeks, I’m helping plan it.” Only the last part of her words were a lie and she bit her tongue.

“Everyone wants to see you, they all miss you and they keep asking when you’ll be over. The kids miss you.”

“I’ll see them in Melbourne, Dan. You go, enjoy your time at home with them.”

She’d gotten a car to bring her to the airport and Dan hadn’t even asked a question, just a “text me when you land”. There was no hug, no even quick hand squeeze like they usually did in the Middle East. That’s when she knew whatever they were doing. The nearly four years of sleeping together and pretending they weren’t, of the media wondering who she was and why she was always there, was over.

She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to catch feelings, that it was just sex. That she could do it. That every time she told Dan “y’know, right?” it was purely platonic. That the slow sex was just them wanting to take their time, nothing else. That she hadn’t murmured to Dan to make love to her in Bahrain when they shouldn’t have even been sharing a room after Grosjean’s crash, when he kissed her and held onto her and whispered that he loved her as he entered her.

Because that was sixteen months ago and nothing had changed. It was never going to change between them. Their fight in Saudi had proven it, and now she had to pretend that everything was fine before she said goodbye to the people she loved for the last time.

She couldn’t keep working with Dan when not sleeping with him. She couldn’t watch him fall for another woman, couldn’t get introduced to more people as “Em, my best friend” anymore. She was his Emmy. He was her Danny. And not getting to love him and be loved by him how she wanted to was going to kill her.

The flights were what she expected, Dan had upgraded her tickets to first class like he always did and she wanted to kill him like she always did. She spent the flights and the layovers organising his calendar for the next three months, tracking his flights and cross checking the sponsor events that had been filled in. Everything up to Hungary was booked and ready to go. She checked her watch when she was halfway to Melbourne, realising that he’d be at the Optus event she was usually on his arm for. She was supposed to be there this year, but she told him to take Michelle instead. All the events around the Australian GP that she always went as his plus one, wearing the star necklace he’d gotten her for her birthday, and the matching earrings that were her Christmas present the same year. Her outfit was usually one he’d bought for her against her protests because “let me spoil you” was how he showed that he cared, and she always wore the gold moon ring on her thumb that matched the sun one she’d bought him for his little finger. Most of her wardrobe and all of her everyday jewellery were presents from Dan. Her life was completely entwined with his, and untangling it all was going to hurt.

Her flight got in at god-awful o’clock that Wednesday morning, she’d lost a full day having left London on the Monday evening, but she walked through Melbourne customs with her suitcase glad to just be through. She’d told everyone she’d get an Uber to the hotel and meet them for breakfast, but instead as soon as she appeared in front of the glowing Melbourne sign two small figures ran to her yelling.

“AUNTIE EMMY YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE HERE!” Em dropped her bags and fell to her knees, arms wide open to pull Isaac and Isabella into her and pressing so many kisses to their curly heads.

“I’m here, I’m here. I missed you both so much. So, so much. I’m so sorry I couldn’t see you, I wanted to see you sooner.” Stupid Western Australia and closed borders and not letting people through. Her eyes began shining as she took in the difference in the two kids, Isaac at least a foot taller and losing the childlike way he’d spoken. Isabella had doubled in size, long hair and a child instead of a toddler the last time she’d seen her in person.

“It’s ok, you’re here now! Nana said you’ll sit with us for ev’rything ‘cept the race? Cause we’ve got two years of birthday and Christmas pressies for you!” Isaac looked so proud, grinning as he took her wheeled carry on and pulled it.

“I can’t wait. Who’re you here with?”

“Grandad Joe! He has our sign, Uncle Mike and Uncle Blake told us we had to use all the glitter. We were gonna wait, but I saw you and I wanted a hug. Is that ok?” He looked almost worried of her response, but she ruffled his hair.

“It’s more than ok. All I wanted was hugs from the two of you.”

Isabella clung to her waist, Em lifting her up with one arm and mentally thanking Michael for the strength training that let her carry the girl and pull her suitcase with her. She looked around to see Joe holding a giant piece of bright orange card, Auntie Emmy written on it in blue and silver glitter. It was the shiniest thing she’d ever seen in her life, and it was coming home with her even with the craft herpes that would infest her suitcase. Joe pulled her into a one armed hug on the side his granddaughter wasn’t monopolising, pushing a kiss to the side of her forehead that made her want to cry.

“We missed you, kiddo. Grace wanted to be here but we couldn’t fit her in the car too, and Dan’s doing media today. You cut it tight to get in.”

“It’s my parents wedding anniversary next week, I’ve been helping. I have to fly out after the race on Sunday.” It was Wednesday, and she could see his face fall as he realised how little time they’d have together.

“We’re spending as much time with you as we can until you go. Those boys get you all year round, we get you for this weekend.”

“That sounds perfect.”

When they made it to the hotel Em was greeted with yet more hugs from Grace, Michelle, and Michelle’s husband Adam. There were tears in everyone’s eyes at the reunion, and the long hug from Grace was the best thing ever and broke her heart at the same time. It was so restorative, so good, but she wasn’t going to get many more of them.

“Dan checked you in, here’s your key. He’s got the room on the other side of you, Blake’s on the other wall, we’re most of our corridor. Do you want to get some sleep and we’ll call you at noon?”

The first thing Em noticed about her room was the adjoining door between her room and Dan’s. She closed the lock gently to make sure she was completely alone. After that she napped fitfully, waking up to knocks on the door and yet more hugs. The day was spent going to the zoo, kids hanging out of her as she swung them around and gave piggybacks, feeling exactly like part of the family. Blake told her to take the day off for jet lag, and she wasn’t complaining.

That evening was filled with fun as the kids clung to her while she pulled out the first of so many presents. Chocolate first so she could see their faces eating proper chocolate rather than the Australian stuff that didn’t melt in the heat. The bag of duty free was quickly eaten between everyone, a movie on tv as she filled everyone in on what she had been doing. It wasn’t until after eight that Dan appeared wearing a suit.

“Ems! I thought you were coming with me tonight?” She looked up from where she’d been half dozing with Isabella curled up against her, taking in her best friend wearing a navy blue suit and white shirt.

“Coming to what? I’m taking today for jet lag. What’s tonight?”

“The AusGP reception. You always come!” Confusion was written all over his face and Em swallowed once, looking at him carefully.

“I said I wasn’t doing anything this year. I have to leave pretty much straight after the race, I don’t have time.”

“Emmy, please.” She hated that she couldn’t resist him when he did that, when her name curled around his accent like that.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” This was the closest they’d ever come to an argument in front of his family. Their eyes were going between them as if watching a tennis match.

“I got you something.”

“Dan, you can’t do that.” It was pointless to argue but she had to try make her point. She couldn’t just do everything because he wanted her to.

“I did. C’mon, it’s three hours and some schmoozing and we can come back so you can go to bed. He did his best impression of puppy dog eyes, lifting Isabella from her. “You want to see Auntie Emmy all glam and pretty, right Is?”

“Yeah! She’s always pretty.”

“You’re very right. I left the dress in your room, Ems. Please?”

“Fine.”

She said her goodbyes and went into her room, making sure the adjoining door was locked before going into shower and change. As she walked into the bathroom she thought she heard the door rattle but ignored it, forcing herself to take time to put herself together.

Years travelling around the world had taught her how to make herself look presentable in very little time, forcing her to learn how to do a blow dry with a hotel hairdryer. It took less than an hour to have hair and makeup perfectly done, a wrap around her shoulders and a pair of heels on her feet. The dress Dan had picked was perfect for her. It was lavender, knee length with a corset top, and her jewellery worked perfectly with it. He had taste when it wasn’t about party shirts. Once she was ready she picked up a clutch and knocked on Dan’s door. He opened the door confused, but ready to go.

“I thought you’d use the adjoining door? It’s why I got us these rooms.”

“I’m tired, Dan. Can we just get this over with?”

The launch was like anything else, an event to deal with. There were speeches and then wandering around the room, Dan’s hand hovering at her lower back but not quite touching her. She smiled as she was introduced as “meet Ems, she’s my best friend and my manager’s assistant who keeps my life on track”, even while her heart was breaking. But she kept her cool, finally managing to break away from Dan for a few minutes to chat to Ted and Natalie from Sky while Dan did the rounds.

“I didn’t know if you’d be here. I was talking to Michael yesterday, he said you weren’t in Perth with them,” Ted remarked as Em looked at the almost empty glass of champagne in his hand.

“Is this going to end up as gossip on the notebook if we talk?” Nat nearly snorted with laughter, Ted shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Nope. I’m drinking so I’m officially off work duties. Unless you have any gossip about things? Anything that I can attribute to an unnamed McLaren source?”

“I don’t work for McLaren, thankfully Zak doesn’t sign my paycheque. But no, I’ve got no gossip. There’s some family stuff happening so I have to head home pretty much as soon as the race is over. But I needed to see everyone, it’s been almost two years and I missed them.”

“Fair.” They chatted about the season so far, studiously ignoring the controversy around the last race, until Dan arrived back to make excuses and get them to leave the party.

“Back to the hotel?”

“You read my mind.”

The car ride back was the most awkward one the two of them had ever done and Em didn’t know what to do. Usually if they were in a car alone together they’d be curled into each other or at least holding hands. But she was on her side of the SUV, Dan was on his, and the hand she’d stretched into the middle as a peace offering was ignored. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with that. Didn’t want to know, really. All his actions did was solidify that the painful decision she’d reached was the right one. Just because things could be easy didn’t mean they were right.

When they reached their floor in the hotel Dan stopped outside her hotel room as Em waved the keycard at the lock.

“Night, Dan.”

“But I thought…”

“What?” She was sharper than she should have been, but she was jet lagged and tired and heart sore.

“I thought we’d be sharing a room.”

“Your family are two doors down and the kids are here. The chances of at least one of them knocking on my door before I want to get up in the morning are high, and I don’t want to have to explain why we share a bed when we’re not married. Do you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Exactly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As soon as the hallway door closed behind her she double checked the lock on the adjoining door before flipping over the door lock. If she’d looked out the peephole she would have seen a confused and disappointed Dan standing in the hallway.

The next few days passed in a haze of having the kids around, working, and ignoring Zak. She knew he was the original source of the rumours the year before, he was the one who got Mazepin to start spreading that she was sleeping with all three of her boys. It was her greatest pleasure to get to tell him no, and she did it with joy.

But in between finalising as much as she could before her resignation was sent she had time to wander Melbourne alone. She loved the city. It had always welcomed her in, it was Dan’s home race and the place where she knew everyone adored him. Em wandered around a craft market, finding a jewellery maker who made gold charms and engraved them on the spot. It took her all of ten seconds to buy two and get them put on different coloured leather cords, one each for Isaac and Isabella. The front had a pair of angel wings for each of her angel kids, and the engraving on the back read love you forever, Auntie Emmy. 

Leaving her family behind was going to be the hardest part of this, and she needed to make sure that they knew just how much she loved them. Em was so aware that she was about to be the first adult to choose to walk out of their lives, and she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to break their hearts the way hers would break too. She just hoped that when they realised she wasn’t coming back they’d know she wanted to tell them how much she loved them.

Practice and qualifying were shit and she felt her dislike of the team growing even stronger. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to deal with the stupid orange team and the way that they were favouring Lando already. Dan was the one who won a race last year, not Lando. He was the one who had proven himself with podiums galore. But they didn’t care.

That night she left the door between their rooms unlocked. Her bags were half packed, her resignation email was scheduled to send and she’d triple checked the timezone on it. Em had spent the last two days hugging everyone as much as she could, surprising Chloe by popping into the Aston garage before a practice and waving to Lance and Seb as she pulled Chloe into a giant hug. Scotty got one too, trying to put the love and care she had for her best friends outside her boys into a hug. There were waves to the people she couldn’t hug because rumours would start, giving Susie a recommendation for the restaurant they all ate at the night before so she and Toto could have a family meal with Jack in privacy. The small things to make sure everyone knew she thought about them and loved them.

Em couldn’t sleep straight away. Nights before races were hard, the crashes she’d watched with her own two eyes usually playing in her head. Dan in Anthoine’s car, Dan in Grosjean’s. Dan in Lewis’s place the year before with no halo. Dan in the rain and a tractor on track. All the ways she knew people had died racing she thought about and she couldn’t deal. Her fear every time Dan slid into his seat in the car was all encompassing but racing was his first love and she could never ask him to stop.

She was about to get up and go down to Michael’s room to ask for some melatonin, but the doorknob between the two rooms rattled and clicked open quietly. Em stayed still as she was, breathing in and out steadily.

Dan slipped into the other side of the bed. If she just opened her eyes she’d be able to see him. If she reached her fingers out slightly she could touch him. It was the first time they’d shared a bed since Bahrain and being just over covid and she wanted him to hold her. Her body was screaming to curl into him and tell him she loves him and she’s his and she doesn’t want him to fall in love with anyone else because she wants him to love her. To choose her over all the models in the world he could have.

She didn’t sleep that night, too aware of his presence in the bed. She could hear his snores but she didn’t dare look up at him, didn’t dare move in case she disturbed him. He needed his sleep the night before a race.

As the morning dawned through crappy hotel curtains she could feel the vibrations from the alarm on his watch, the one he always used to try let her get some extra sleep when he needed to be up early.

Please kiss my forehead. Please, Dan. Please just give me any sign you want me to stay. Don’t leave me again.

Every morning was the same when they shared a bed. He’d delay until the very last minute to stay in the warmth and then kiss her forehead in goodbye. And then he’d leave, not content to get out from there until he made sure she knew he said goodbye.

This time he slid out of the bed without touching her, padding across the still room and going back into his. Em heard the lock slide shut on his side and rolled over, tears filling her eyes.

It hurt so much already, how was she supposed to pretend that everything was fine? How was she supposed to act normal around everyone when she wanted to scream that they were over and nothing would ever be the same again? How could she be okay when she felt like this? 

He’d left her alone. Again. He hadn’t even touched her but he’d slept in her bed and she never thought Dan could be so cruel. She never thought he’d leave her with the barest hint of his scent, that if she hadn’t been awake she wouldn’t have known he was there. The ache spread through her chest and she tried to quiet her sobs but it hurt. It hurt so, so badly.

A cold shower soothed her puffy face, getting rid of some of the usual redness while makeup did the rest. She was dressed in her usual race day gear of shorts, vans, a McLaren polo, and a Dan hat on her head by the time there was a knock on her door, Michael standing there.

“Hey, I’m heading in with Dan and Blake now. He said you’re going in with his family in an hour?” Another cut in her heart. More space between them. But she schooled her face into a smile, hoping Michael would believe everything was fine.

“Yeah. I said I wanted as much time with the kids as possible, it’s fine.  See you there?”

“See you there.”

Michael was a couple of metres away from her when she stepped into the hall, grabbing her room key from the slot just inside the door.

“Michael?” He turned and she half jogged, pulling him into a tight hug.

“What’s this for?”

“Haven’t seen you as much. You know you’re my brother, right? How lucky I am to have you as my family?”

“You’re the most annoying little sister Ems, but you’re my little sister. I’ve missed having you around.”

“Miss you too.”

She watched him walk away as step one of her goodbyes was done. The next was to go to breakfast with everyone and pretend that things were normal for the next few hours until the race was over. She could do it. She had to.

Breakfast with the extended Ricciardo clan was fun, Isabella still clinging to her and Isaac insisting on sitting beside her. She soaked up every moment she got with them, walking out to the car Dan had arranged holding Isabella on her hip.

“That’ll be you in a few years,” Michelle commented as Em struggled with the car seat buckle before getting it right. “The mother, not the cool aunt. We can swap places.”

Another stab to her already mangled heart. “I dunno. Wait and see, but I’m not sure that’s on the cards any time soon.” Considering the only man she wanted to have a child with didn’t want to be with her, it was a no.

You’ll be a good mother, Em. Plus you’ll have loads of family around.” She wanted to scream that she was leaving her family behind for good this afternoon but instead she just smiled tightly. It was too close to home. She couldn’t keep this conversation going. It hurt.

The race matched her mood. The strategy wasn’t good, the car was a tractor, and the oblique team orders to not let Dan try overtake Lando made her want to scream. The team points would be the same, but no. Not for his home race even. The crowd were amazing and let out loud cheers every time the orange car made its way around the circuit, but it wasn’t enough and Em knew it. It hurt. Her last time at a Grand Prix, her last time cheering for the man she was so deeply in love with, and the team and car had let him down again.

The plan was already to delay debrief till Monday so Dan got to spend time with his family, and Em decided to head to the airport nearly immediately. She couldn’t stay any longer. She couldn’t deal with any more hints from Michelle about a niece or nephew in the future, couldn’t listen to Grace or Joe talking about how much they’d missed her. She couldn’t spend more time with Blake and Michael without wanting to break down and tell them that they had changed her life and she wouldn’t make them choose between her and Dan.

Because that was what it came down to. She was the last one in this group that was all united by their love of Daniel Ricciardo. She was the one who loved him so deeply it hurt, the one who loved every single member of the group to the moon and to Saturn. And she loved them so much she couldn’t bear to have them walk away from her. Because that was what would happen.

Her own blood family didn’t choose her. They saw her as a disgrace, as a failure because she was thirty one years old, unmarried and without kids. They didn’t realise that she was the one who kept Dan on schedule, who organised sponsor events and filtered out the crap he and Blake didn’t need to know about. She stopped the balls from falling out of the sky. Because she was just an assistant.

And if the people who gave birth to her wouldn’t choose her, she knew the family she’d built wouldn’t either. She was never the one who was chosen, and she didn’t blame them. She was just Emma. Danny was Dan. She knew who she’d pick if given a quarter of a chance.

She’d just finished packing when the adjoining door opened, Dan walking in already speaking but stopping when he saw the case by the door, her carry on full with the edge of the orange poster getting folded in.

“Where are you going?” His tone was accusatory and she steeled herself for the argument.

“Home.”

“Emmy…”

“Don’t Emmy me, Daniel! You know I have to go back for the anniversary.” She turned to look at him, watching as confusion turned to anger.

“And I also know that’s bullshit. I’ve known you for how many years, Em? You’ve visited your parents twice. Michael was with you one of those times, the visit lasted twenty minutes and even he didn’t have anything nice to say about it. Michael. Who has a good thing to say about almost everyone. So tell me the truth, why are you leaving now? Why not get on the flight with us tomorrow?”

“Because I have to go back.”

“Don’t lie to me Em!” He raised his voice and Em gave as good as she got, staring back at him.

“You want the truth, Dan? All of it?”

“Yes! That’s all I want, it’s all I’ve ever wanted with you.”

She took a deep breath, staring into his brown eyes for the last time, soaking in that even so angry he was so beautiful. She’d had the privilege of sleeping with him for nearly four years, of loving him for three. Whoever got to do that next would be so incredibly lucky.

“You left me alone. The one thing I ever asked of you, the only thing I ever asked you to promise me was to never leave me alone. I begged you. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening with us, please don’t leave me alone. And then there were bombs flying and I watched one explode and you made me get into a car and leave. You made me stay alone, and you didn’t come back to me that night. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know if you were even alive because I didn’t have my fucking phone until the next morning and all the news was in Arabic. You were gone to the track before I knew what had happened. You left. You broke your promise, Daniel.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” It was the worst thing he could have said.

“But Blake and Michael got to stay. Angela stayed with Lewis, don’t try to lie to me and tell me she didn’t. Britta stayed with Seb. You sent me away, Dan. I was sobbing and begging you to stay and you made Blake drive me away. You made me leave when I was scared.” She let her words sink into him fully. “Just leave. Get out of this room and leave.”

“Emmy…” His voice was soft and she blinked back the tears she knew she wanted to cry. Not until the airport. Not until then.

“GET OUT DAN!” She yelled at him for the first time, shock on his face. “JUST LEAVE! It’s what you’ve been doing this whole weekend, just leave.”

“Fine. Fine. If that’s what you want, I’m fucking gone. I’m done here, I’m gone. I’ll be downstairs in five for you to say goodbye to everyone.” She watched him walk through the adjoining door and lock it as Em’s heart completely broke in two. She’d ruined it. He was done. He was gone. He was leaving and she was going and she would never speak to him again because her Daniel wasn’t hers anymore. One person down, eight to go.

She brought her bags down to the lobby alone, everyone standing there waiting to say goodbye. Michael got a hug, she’d said everything she needed to earlier that day. Blake was beside him, wrapping her in a full body giant one and holding her tight.

“You know I love you, don’t you? I really love you.” Blake grinned and pulled her close again.

“Love you too, Ems. Moving beside you was the best decision I ever made.”

Saying goodbye to Michelle and Adam was hugs and whispers of seeing them for Christmas when she knew it was a lie. Grace pulled her into a hug that only a mother figure could, whispering in her ear.

“We’re coming over for Silverstone and yours and Dan’s birthdays, so we’ll see you then. We love you Em. If you need anything I’m only a FaceTime away. Don’t let them get you down when you’re with your family.”

“I love you too, Grace.”

Joe got a hug and a murmured love you, his hand patting her back soothingly. The kids were last, sulking as Em squatted down in front of them.

“So I got my angels a present to say goodbye, cause I know I didn’t get to see you lots. Want to see them?” There were identical nods and Em strapped the bracelets on, Isaac’s on a black cord and Isabella’s on a purple one.

“It matches the one I made you and Uncle Dan,” Isabella murmured as Em pulled her into a tight hug.

“It does. It’s a reminder that I love you both so very, very much. No matter how far away we are, I’m always going to love you, okay? Don’t ever, ever forget that. Pinkie promise me?” She held out her little fingers, laughing as they both enthusiastically took part in the ritual. She pulled them in for a final hug, pressing kisses to both of their heads.

“See you on winter break!” Isaac grinned as he spoke, Em putting a tight smile on her face. 

“We call it summer break, but I’ll see what we have to do then buddy.”

“Do you want a lift to the airport? I’ve got the rental?” Joe asked but Em shook her head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got an Uber coming, I just want to get on the road. It’s hard enough to say goodbye to everyone I can’t drag it out much longer.”

“Fair. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Joe.” Her phone buzzed with the notification that her driver was there and she started towards the door. Dan still hadn’t come down and that was it. He didn’t love her. He didn’t feel anything like how she did because no matter what he’d said, he’d never make her leave. But she made him leave. He was gone.

She was almost at the door when an oh too familiar voice called across the lobby, running up to them. 

“I didn’t think you’d be leaving already.”

“My Uber’s outside, I need to leave.”

“Oh.” There was none of their usual hugs, none of the subtle kisses he pushed to the top of her head when they were separated. He didn’t even squeeze her fingers. It was like they were strangers. “Send a text when you get to London?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She turned to get her luggage into the car, shielding her face from everyone with her hair. The driver lifted it in and she was soon safely ensconced in the back seat, tears falling down her cheeks as she waved goodbye behind partially tinted glass.

“Was that Daniel Ricciardo?” The driver asked, Em forcing a smile.

“Yeah, I work with him.” It was true for another five hours at least.

“He seems like a good guy.”

“He’s one of the best.”

Tears streamed down Em’s cheeks the entire way to the airport, through the fancy check in area and security, and following her into her first class pod. She mostly ignored the staff apart from nodding at them, continuing to cry and wipe her eyes on tissues. The tears barely stopped until Dubai, only aided by Blake’s near constant texts as soon as her email sent.

She knew when she arrived in London that she had about twelve hours before the boys landed, Blake texting even while he was on his flights. She sent a I got back safely, receiving another flurry of responses.

Em, what’s this email about?

What’s going on?

Tell me you didn’t mean to send this

Is it the travel? Do you want to slow down? Why?

Ems we need you. How am I supposed to tell everyone you’re not coming with us anymore? Did you meet someone? Did something happen?

We’re about to land in Heathrow. Dan’s going to his place and looks miserable. I’ll be at your door in less than two hours.

When she got the final text Em grabbed the bags she’d hastily packed with clothes and the things she needed for the next eight days until the boys had left London for Imola. The address of the last minute airbnb was in her email, getting an Uber to it handy. She was long gone by the time Blake arrived, sitting in her temporary home for the next while and planning what she had to do. They’d leave England on the Wednesday, she had five days to empty her flat.

It started with an email to her landlord to give up the lease. Her family reasons excuse was accepted quickly, the landlord told she had to leave London and the apartment would be vacant from the end of the month. After that she had to start planning on where to go to.

There were too many memories in London. Nearly every street reminded her of Dan, of days walking around hand in hand to show him her London, not the tourist one he knew. The city she’d moved to at eighteen with a dream and a student loan and where she’d discovered who she was. Dan was everywhere in the city for her - memories of their first kiss in the pub she’d spent too many hours in, museums she’d dragged him to, streets he’d stolen a kiss from her at with a grin and a chuckle when they were waiting to cross the road. The cafes and greasy spoons she’d brought him to with the promise of not telling Michael. She couldn’t stay there, it was too much.

But everywhere she thought of had memories of him. Filthy weekends away when they were at home because of covid, eating out to help out and driving to Manchester or Glasgow to spend time together and have hotel sex. The midlands were completely out because of Silverstone, of memories of Enstone and the Renault factory, of Milton Keynes and his goodbye from Red Bull.

The only big city she could think of without a memory of Dan - with only one memory of her boys - was Liverpool. Which meant her parents. Which meant a conversation she never wanted to have. Calling her mother wasn’t like calling Grace. But she didn’t have Grace in her life anymore, so she had to do it.

“Emma, what country do you deign to call us from today?” Her mother answered the phone, disdain dripping from every word.

“Good morning, Mother. I’m in England. I was calling because I need to ask for a favour from you.”

“Yes?”

Em swallowed, teeing up words on her too thick tongue. “I had to leave my job, they didn’t have the funding to keep me on. I was wondering if I could move home for a few weeks while I’m applying for new jobs. I want to leave motorsports, there’s too much travelling and I want to settle down.” She hit every keyword that her mother had as she checked her bank account balance, spotting her final pay deposited in the account. It was more than healthy thanks to travelling so much for work and Dan covering that under work expenses. But she needed to be sensible, and renting somewhere without a job would be a mistake.

“You can. You will need to pay rent while you’re here.”

“Of course. Just let me know how much. It wont be for long, it’s just a few weeks. It’ll be like I won’t even be there, if I’m not interviewing I’ll be in my bedroom.”

“Fine. Let me know when you plan to arrive.” She sounded bored of the conversation already.

“I’ll be back April twenty fourth. I can send you the train details then.

“See you then.”

The difference between the call with her mother and a call with Grace just cut the wound in her chest even harder. Grace never let a call end without a million “I love you”s between them. She made sure that Em spoke to everyone in the family, and if Joe was out at the garage she took a message and told Em that he loved her. Instead her mother hadn’t even asked if Em wanted to leave a message for her father.

It felt so, so wrong.

The list of things she had to do before the boys left for Italy was beginning to shrink, but there was still so much to do. She ignored Blake and Michael’s texts, refusing to even open them. The chats were archived so the red dots didn’t irritate her. Dan didn’t send her anything at all, yet more proof that he meant everything he said in Melbourne. He was done with her. She didn’t realise that emotional pain could hurt this much. She’d never believed in soulmates, never believed in fate. She always thought that if a relationship ended she’d get through it. But now? This not quite a relationship over? It ached to her core.

Friday morning she had an appointment with a solicitor, walking in with a tear stained sheet of what she wanted to leave to different people. She’d always fought with Dan about being prepared if something happened to him, not wanting to know what he left her. She was one of the two people who could decide what medical treatment he got if he couldn’t consent. She’d cried when he told her that day in Spa when they got that tragic news what he wanted if he was in a crash like that. That he trusted her to not let him stay on machines. Some of her nightmares included his plaintive “I don’t want false hope” that made her ache.

She didn’t trust her parents to not do the same for her. They’d keep her hooked up to machines for as long as possible, they’d insist it was for “hope”. Em didn’t know what hope, but she knew them. They’d barely spoken for five years apart from occasional texts and birthday cards, they didn’t have the right to decide what happened to her.

It was a blustery Friday morning when she walked into that office and signed the papers to say Daniel Ricciardo, Blake Friend, and Michael Italiano were the people who decided what would happen if she couldn’t make her own medical decisions. She gave the lawyer the makeshift will that was handwritten and tearstained. It was simple - her cookbooks and exercise equipment to Michael because he was always trying to adapt her recipes. All but one piece of her furniture to Blake. Her CDs and DVDs to Dan, along with the coffee table he kept falling over. Her collection of Dan’s raceworn helmets to Isaac and Isabella. Dan, Grace, and Michelle were to divide her jewellery between them based on who wanted what. The rest of her belongings were to be sold and the money put in Isaac and Isabella’s college funds. It was too easy.

Even after everything that had happened, even after walking away, she trusted her boys more than she trusted anyone else in the world.

After all of that her final task was to organise her storage unit and movers. That was easiest of all if Em was honest. A call to a moving company who agreed to put everything in the unit without her there, and walking into a storage company. She signed a two year contract and paid the full rent then and there, surprising the man at the counter. Now she was able to disappear.

The texts kept coming from Blake and Michael. WhatsApp and iMessage, even a signal account she’d forgotten she had on her phone. Michael sent her instagram DMs so she deleted the app instead of trying to avoid reading them and appearing online. But finally it was Wednesday and she knew exactly when the boys were flying out of London City Airport. She’d organised the private flight for them, booked the plane and made sure the flight was as clean as possible. As soon as they’d take off her plan could start.

Walking back into her apartment felt too normal, just checking her post and finding it mostly full of letters from Blake. Get in touch, we’re worried, we miss you. Sentiments she knew he’d share but it would be easy for him to forget about her. The letters went out in recycling and she began to pack up her life.

The boxes were settled easily. Storage, donating, and Dan’s stuff. The ones for him filled quickly, clothes and accessories and things he’d left lying around the apartment that had become theirs instead of just hers. It took three boxes to get rid of the sense of him.

The storage boxes were easier, but the final thing she had to do at four that Sunday morning was decide what to do with her helmet wall. Ever since Monaco and his win, Dan had given her his race worn helmet for any new race design. She could name which race each of them was from, and in the middle was her Monza win one. McLaren had wanted it for the MTC but Dan refused to give it over, insisting it was his and he was keeping it. They got the trophy so he got the helmet. And then he put it in the middle of the IKEA shelves that they’d spent a weekend putting together and laughing.

Part of her - a large part if she was truly honest - wanted to donate them. Get rid of them for the clean break she insisted she needed. But she couldn’t. They were the good parts of the last four years, the best part of her life and the reminder that for years she got to love Daniel Ricciardo and travel the world with her best friends. Once she was settled somewhere she’d put them all back up to get her and explain to whoever asked that she was a part of Formula One for a short while, and it meant so much to her.

It took longer than she expected to get them wrapped carefully and boxed away. Two just about fit in one box, but they were light at least. When they were carefully labelled with the races, a tear falling from her eye when she wrote Monaco 2018 on a box in looping letters, she sat down to write notes to her boys. They deserved more than a resignation email and leaving without saying goodbye but if she saw them in person she wouldn’t walk away. She was barely strong enough to do that the first time. Em couldn’t do it again.

Dan’s took the longest. It started with anger. How could you make me love you when you didn’t love me back scrawled angrily, tears staining the lined pages as she wrote everything. But she couldn’t give it to him how she’d written it. She couldn’t deliberately hurt him. It wasn’t Dan’s fault that she’d fallen in love with a man who couldn’t love her back the way she wanted him to love her. It was her fifth draft, still tear stained, that was the one she was giving him.

Danny,

I’m sorry I didn’t say this in person but I couldn’t do it. We both know that things between us haven’t been working for a while. It’s nobody’s fault. I guess we just wanted different things. It happens to us all. But we’re both done and writing this is easier than another long conversation and another fight.

Go be happy. I’ll cheer you on from wherever I end up, no matter what. You’ve changed so many lives, mine included. Thank you for the amazing years and experiences. You let me do things that so few people ever get to do and I can’t thank you enough for that.

Emma

Michael and Blake’s were harder and easier. She only needed one attempt at them, trying to wipe the tears before they fell.

Blakey,

I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for leaving you in the lurch, but I made sure that everything logistically is booked until the summer break. Just get him where he needs to be on time, you were always better at that than me.

I love you. You’re my big brother and i wasn’t going to make you choose between me and Dan, that was never going to be fair. I’ll be happy and I want you to be happy too. Find a girl and settle down or bring her around the world. I’m rooting for you the entire time.

Will you make sure everyone in the paddock knows I love them? Tell Chloe and Scotty to get their wedding planned. Chloe will be the most beautiful bride and I’m so sorry I won’t get to see her in person. Scotty will look ok, I guess.

Thank you for everything.

Love,

Ems

PS - the extra key is for my storage unit. A1 Storage in Wimbledon. Figured you’d be a good person to have it.

She folded Blake’s letter into an envelope and labelled it before writing the last one. Somehow this was the hardest, having to ask Michael to do what she couldn’t.

Mike,

I’m sorry for leaving and I’m sorry for asking you to pass a message on but I know you will. I love you so much. You made lockdown bearable even when I was being a bitch, and you made me actually enjoy exercising you cruel man.

Tell everyone that I love them and I’m sorry? You let me know exactly what a family is and how I deserve to be loved and that’s something I can never thank you enough for. Ever. I can’t make people decide between me and Dan. He wins every time and that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s easier if I just leave.

Tell Grace and Joe I love them and I will forever be grateful for their love and support. Let Michelle know that she’s the best big sister ever. Please make sure that Isaac and Isabella know that I love them no matter what. It’s not their fault I left and I will always love them. Whoever gets to be their auntie is the luckiest person in the world and I wish it got to be me.

Tell all your family I love them, and ti voglio bene to Nadia and your Nana. I love you all so much, and I’m cheering you all on from wherever I end up.

Love,

Em

When the movers came she handed them the key to the storage unit, letting them know what to do. Everything was out of the apartment in a few moments and Em took a last look around her almost empty apartment. The memories were suffocating. Dan tripping over the coffee table, the London lockdown when they got back from Australia and they lied to Michael about what the yoga mat’s primary purpose was. The way Dan danced with her in the dark kitchen, distracting her from finding food for them in the fridge and getting them to sway in the silence. The kisses and living together like he loved her the same way she loved him.

He’d been blowing up her voicemail since Wednesday and she deleted them I listened to. The first “Emmy” hurt her too much, so she decided to practice self preservation for once. As soon as her voicemail said “you have an unlistened to voicemail from Dan” it was deleted. The same with Blake and Michael. She couldn’t do it.

Finally it was time to leave, and she carried Dan’s boxes one at a time into Blake’s apartment. The three were stacked one atop the other, the letters on top of them. Em stared at her thumb, at the moon ring that had been there since Dan bought it for her calling her his moon on dark nights. She couldn’t bear to take off the three necklace hanging on her chest, but this she had to leave behind. She wasn’t his moon, and he was too bright to be her sun.

She slipped it off and rubbed her finger against the warm gold, pushing a kiss to it before stepping back. The final thing she needed to do was leave the envelope with her medical power papers and will on Blake’s coffee table before she locked the front door and slipped his keys in his post box. It was done. She was gone.

The tube to Euston was quicker than expected and she joined the trek to the Liverpool train, settling into her seat a few minutes before they were due to pull out. Her phone lit up with a notification that the race was about to start, illuminating the photo from lockdown of her and Dan holding Isaac and Isabella. They looked like a family. Em unlocked her phone and pushed her thumb firmly down on the F1 app to delete it. A clean break.

The train pulled off exactly at two, her mind echoing Crofty’s “lights out and away we go”. Dan was in the car and racing and all she wanted was a good points finish for him. But she couldn’t check. She couldn’t let herself find out what he was doing.

Her tears fell harder as the train pulled into Milton Keynes, the memories of the last time she’d done this train journey as Dan’s plus one. His leaving Red Bull party, staying in a hotel with him the week before they flew to Perth for Christmas. It was the only time she’d gotten to visit the impressive Red Bull factory. Meeting Max properly, Christian cornering her with his wife - and keeping her cool around Geri fucking Halliwell - to ask if she could convince Dan to come back. Getting whisked away from Helmut quickly when he tried to speak to her, meeting the mechanics and team that she’d seen at several races properly for once. Yet another place she could never visit again because all she’d think about was Dan.

Em made herself stop crying shortly after, pushing a cold bottle of water to her eyes. She couldn’t be red eyed or puffy seeing her parents. It was bad enough returning with her tail between her legs. She didn’t know if she’d survive the I told you so.

*

When Dan got out of the car in Imola he knew what he had to do. His first stop was being weighed and getting his slip, Mike pushing one of those AG1 drinks into his hand to down to get electrolytes and water back into him. After that it was media rounds, apologising to Carlos, and doing media. Once the debrief was finished it was London. He needed to get to Emmy. For the second time he’d gotten on a plane when he should have been with her and he needed to apologise. Needed to make things right.

“The jet will be ready when we finish? I need to get back to London tonight.” Michael handed him a McLaren branded shirt and pair of skinny jeans to put on once he was out of the shower.

“It’ll be ready. Mate, you need to know that she might not want—“

“She’ll see me. It’s Em. She’s my Emmy. She’s going to see me and I’m going to tell her everything. I can’t do this without her. I can’t. I dunno how I did it before.”

“Ok. Go shower and head out.”

The debrief was painful. Lando on the fucking podium, Dan last. They wrote off his technical debrief after the collision. It was clear Dan couldn’t have done anything, and the rest of his race was nothing to write home about. He should have just retired. It was shit and he just had to listen to how Lando had a flawless race and was extracting the most out of the tractor McLaren had built. He had to wait until it was over, half listening and taking notes while stewing.

All he could think about was Emmy. He hadn’t reached out because he thought she needed space, wanted time. He’d had the fucking ring in his pocket in the hotel room and then they’d fought and he couldn’t exactly get on one knee and ask her to marry him after that. But now she was gone and she’d been gone for weeks and he didn’t know. He needed her to be ok. He needed to go home and see her on the couch and beg for her forgiveness because he was hers. His apartment was so fucking lonely, driving in and out of the factory without seeing her. Without going to sleep curled up beside her and waking up with the fairy lights glowing as she read whatever dog eared book she was rereading that month.

The voicemails were being listened to. Her inbox went from full to empty and he kept texting, determined to get through to her. Needing her to talk to him. To say anything at all. People kept asking where she was, he laughed it off and gave the excuse of family stuff. Natalie had nodded and said she hoped Em would be back soon. Chloe had looked at him oddly when she heard the excuse but he shrugged and moved on. The elder Stroll could be terrifying and he didn’t want to get on her bad side. Not even Scotty could save him from that.

There was nothing he could do but wait to be freed. The moment they were able to break - after Dan apologised to the mechanics for the job they’d have to do on the car - he was on his way to the driver room. Blake and Michael were already there with bags packed and ready to go.

It was a two hour flight to London and they landed at nine. After forcing their way through traffic in a black cab it was after nine thirty by the time they arrived at Blake and Em’s building. Dan stepped out of the car and grabbed his bags, heading straight upstairs to the two identical doors. He didn’t realise when it became more normal to stand in front of Em’s door than Blakes, but it had years before. He knocked twice to no response.

“Em? I’ve got my key, I’m coming in.”

The lock turned easily with the familiar key and Dan set his bags down to flick the light switch. What he saw terrified him.

The room was empty. The couch that killed his back, the coffee table his shins hated, gone. The bookshelves and the kitchen table they’d spent a lockdown day building, gone. Her helmet collection was missing. Em had once told him that if the building went on fire she would save whichever helmets she could. If they were gone, she was gone.

He ran to her bedroom but everything was missing. The fairy lights they’d taped up with double sided tape. Her bed. The throw cushions he laughed about. Even the case at the bottom of her wardrobe with the lingerie he’d bought her was gone. Her pink boots weren't there. It was like nobody had lived there for years. He couldn’t even smell her perfume in the air.

“Dan?” He hadn’t realised tears were streaming down his face when he turned to see his best mates standing in the doorway. “Mate, you need to see this.”

He followed them back to Blakes, pausing to lock Emmy’s front door. She had to come back. The idea that she wouldn’t come back was impossible.

Until he saw the boxes.

Three of them, neatly stacked almost up to Blake’s chest. There were three envelopes on them, and a glint of gold on top of one. He nearly ran to it, ignoring the post race soreness going through his body to see the ring he’d given her sitting on top of the one neatly labelled Daniel.

She’d used his first name. Emmy never used his first name unless something was wrong. He’d fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to open it.

Instead he held the ring firmly in his palm, the metal cold against his hand. She was there. She had been there and now she was gone and he didn’t know what to do. But instead he followed what Blake and Michael had done and opened his letter.

It was how impersonal it was that killed him. Em was done. She’d be fine. Thanking him for bringing her around the world and letting her work with him. She didn’t want another fight and she thought he was done with her.

She didn’t love him like he loved her and for a brief moment that made him want to die. The moments they’d shared, the times they’d said they loved each other. The times he’d held her and traced I love you down her back or against her clit when he was eating her out, desperate for her to know but too afraid to say it. The 'y’know, right?'. Everything from the last nearly four years. None of it had ever mattered because she wouldn’t have married him. He had her ring in his fucking ever present backpack and thank God he hadn’t tried to propose because she’d have said no and he’d have been humiliated.

“I guess you were right. Buying the ring was a mistake.”

His choked voice broke the silence, but it was Michael who got the next sentence in, cutting off Blake’s question about the ring.

“Mate, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“She doesn’t love me like I love her. I was wrong. I just got my heart broken so please, don’t rub it in right now?”

“Did you read any of what she wrote?”

“Yeah. She’s done. She thanked me for letting her travel with us. Like she didn’t earn her place. She signed it Emma. I was wrong, ok? I was wrong and I can’t take you rubbing it the fuck in when I think Im gonna break.”

“What happened? Because the two of you were fine in Bahrain, and then after Saudi she disappeared and skipped Perth, and she was barely in Melbourne. What happened with you?” Blake was the one who asked, Dan flopping on the couch beside him. He held out his much shorter letter for them to read.

“Things were weird when we got back after Christmas. Then we had covid and got through it. And Saudi fucking happened. With everything going on and keeping her safe I didn’t see her till after the race and she was already leaving. And in Melbourne we… We had a fight.” The memories of what he’d said were circling again, the anger between them, Em telling him to leave again. Him walking away.

“We thought that much. You didn’t even hug her goodbye.”

“She told me to leave!”

“In self preservation.” Michael’s voice was low and Dan was almost afraid of his best friend. “She said she didn’t want to make us choose between you and her, that she knew we’d pick you. So she left. I have to tell your fucking family she’s gone, by the way. She asked me to. So you’re going to tell me everything that’s happened between the two of you and we’re going to fix this. What the fuck did you do?”

He wanted to be annoyed that he was being blamed but he couldn’t blame the boys. So he let everything out.

He told them about wanting to kiss her in Blake’s that first night, of Monaco and their agreement that it was over once she left Monaco. Coffee and Silverstone and her birthday drinks. Spa and I love you when they were faced with the reality of what could happen with his job again. Em begging him to never leave her behind, that no matter what he wouldn’t leave her alone. Her dick of an ex who’d destroyed her self-esteem and meant she lost her friends. The meaning of 'Y’know, right?', the phrase that had been their mantra since 2019. That he hadn’t slept with anyone else since he’d met her because he just knew she was supposed to be his. That he’d bought the ring when they spent Christmas 2020 together but was just waiting for the right moment. And then in Saudi she’d been sobbing and he sent her away. He made Blake take her away from him. From them. He’d broken his fucking promise and again in Australia he walked away when he should have stayed in that room.

She’d picked the fight. She’d picked it so she’d be left alone and leave and the realisation of how well she fucking knew him hurt so much. She knew him like the palm of her hand and for a minute he forgot about it.

“Let me get this straight. You’ve known just how shit her family is for longer than any of us, and I’m the only one who’s actually met them. She asked for exactly one thing from you which was don’t leave her alone. And in Saudi, one of the countries she’s most scared of being away from us for any length of time, you made her go back to the hotel and stay there on her own. She begged you to stay and was sobbing and you left her to cry when she asked you to stay? I could fucking punch you right now.” He nodded at Michael’s words, shame filling every cell in his body.

“You made us leave her alone.” Blake spoke and Dan thought he was going to be sick. “In Melbourne. The morning of the race. 'Em’s going with my parents. She wants family time.' She didn’t know she was going with them, did she? Why?”

“She… I… No. We weren’t ok. I didn’t know if I could be in the car with her. Not after that night.”

“What happened?”

“I… Fuck. She kept the door between our rooms locked that whole week. But Saturday night it wasn’t locked. I had a habit of just trying it, just in case. It was open and I went in. I just lay down on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep for a while before falling asleep. I left before she woke up. She didn’t know, she was asleep the whole time.”

“You think our Ems was asleep for a full night before a fucking race? Are you an idiot? Did you get brain damage in that crash today? She doesn’t fucking sleep! You slept in the same bed as her for four fucking years and you don't know that? She’s into me for melatonin every damn night because she can’t sleep worrying about you. She was awake that entire night and you left her without saying a goddamn word and then you abandoned her again. Again, Dan. Don’t tell me you did something stupid and cheated on her like her fucking ex.”

“I never cheated. I haven’t touched another woman.” The thought made him sick. “I’m not that asshole. You know I’m not.”

“I don’t mean to be funny Dan. She lived beside me for nearly five years. She’s my friend. And now her apartment is for rent, your shit is here, and she’s told us all goodbye and to give messages to the people she loves. So you might not have cheated on her, but you broke her. It took us four years to help Em feel like herself again and put her pieces back together and you broke her.” Blake was opening another envelope mixed in with the post on his coffee table that Em had left in as he spoke, eyes widening slightly. Before he could get the words out Michael had to.

“You’re telling your family, by the way.” His voice was solid, a way Dan had never heard before. “She asked me to tell them but I can’t. I can’t break those kids hearts and tell them their auntie Emmy loves them forever but she can’t see them again. I can’t tell your sister that she’s lost a sister, and I can’t tell your parents that you ran off the woman they want you to marry. That the woman your mum teaches family recipes to had to leave, because you fucked up that much. You know she’s their second daughter, right? Even before whatever the fuck you’ve been doing started they adored her. From Monaco. Em’s lost the only decent mother she’s ever had because of you. She didn’t want to make us choose but if she was here right now I’d choose her over you any day.”

“If you think she doesn’t love you, read this.” Blake held out a package of papers, Dan skimming them.

Everyone in his line of work was familiar with leaving a will behind. The fucking academies basically demanded it at this point. He’d put Emmy on his own medical power of attorney form after Spa, told her what he was leaving her when she was ready for that conversation after Roman nearly died in Bahrain. 

But Emma wasn't racing cars every weekend, so she didn't need the papers she signed. She didn't need to leave a will behind, but his name was there to make decisions for Em. She’d left him specific things. The cold fear snaked up his spine, tightening around his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

“She wouldn’t. She won’t do anything stupid. It’s Em, she wouldn’t.” The words came out as a rush but certain. She wouldn’t hurt herself. God, he couldn’t live with himself if she did.

“It’s probably just a precaution. But Jesus Christ, Dan. She’s gone. We have no idea where she is, we don’t even know what country she’s in. We don’t know what kind of head start she has and with the amount of frequent flier miles she has she could be anywhere. We can probably cross off here and Australia, but that doesn’t take away much.” 

“I need to leave.” Dan turned to see Michael pick up his bag. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk. I’ll email you workout plans. She’s my fucking sister, Dan. She’s my little sister and I trusted you knew what you were doing with her. She said goodbye to me and I didn’t even know. You… I can’t look at you right now. I’m this close to quitting too because I don’t know you anymore. The Dan I grew up with? He would have said something. He wouldn’t make the woman he kept saying he was going to make his wife run away. He wouldn’t make her feel unloved. Just work out what you’re going to do. I’ll be on the plane to Miami but I don’t know if I’ll see you before then.” Dan watched as his oldest friend, the man he’d known since primary school, who’d supported him through thick and thin, walked out of the apartment into the London night.

“She’s gone. She’s really gone and she’s not coming back. I… I have to find her, Blake. I can’t do this without her.”

“You need to work out what you’re doing. You need to tell your family she’s gone. You need to do your job. We’re all hurting right now and yeah your heart is breaking. But its my job to do tough love and tell you that you need to work first and then think about her.” He stared at Blake in shock. “I’m pissed. But work first. Em somehow managed to take everything off my plate when she was leaving, because she didn’t want to make things hard on me. Go home, Dan. I have to call Chloe Stroll and tell her Em’s not coming back.”

“Not yet. Please. Let me f—“

“I’m telling her. You can hide it from the media, from your family, whatever. Chloe is Em’s best friend outside us. Do you really think she hasn’t tried calling Em already? Really?” Dan nodded once. “Go home. Your place, not the empty apartment next door you called home. Go home and get your shit together. Em would kill you if you fucked up a race over her.”

Dan got an Uber on his phone, taking his bags downstairs along with his letter from Em. He slipped the moon ring onto his little finger, settling it just above the sun. He needed her back. He just didn’t know how to find her.

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × OC, Rick Grimes × sister OC

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 3.09

While ducking behind a crate of wood, you use the scope on your rifle. You keep watch for any signs of an attack while waiting on your brothers, Daryl and Hershel, returning to the prison. Somehow Andrea had managed to arrange a sit-down between the governor and Rick, something you were highly against.

“Any sign of my brother yet?”

Hearing Merle’s voice, you roll your eyes and say, “No, not yet.”

“Hmm.” He leans against the fence, making himself an easy target. “Listen, girly, what happened before—kidnapping you and all—it was strictly business.”

“What’s done is done.”

“You’re a lot more snapper than Rick; anybody ever tell you that? I bet Shane did. Yeah, I remember that judgmental deputy well. I never would have pictured you two together. Oh well, at least we are all one big happy family now, right?”

You glance up at him, and it annoys you how amused he is. You got the impression that Merle thrived on chaos and was just trying to get under your skin. “You know, if my brother hadn’t gone back looking for you in Atlanta, I would never have found him again. I guess I’m lucky T-dog dropped the keys.”

“You really are something else.” Merle snorts out a laugh. “I noticed you’re the only one who didn’t protest about me staying. I guess that means all is forgiven.”

“No, I still think you’re an asshole, but Daryl wouldn’t leave you behind.” You go back to looking through the scope for any movements, “but for this to work, we all need to be singing from the same hymn sheet.”

“I’m on whatever side my baby brother is, and fortunately for you, it’s Rick’s side. You didn’t seem surprised when we swooped in and saved your brother's ass from walkers.”

“I knew Daryl would come back because he’s one of us.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

A few beats of silence pass before you speak again. Merle had already gotten into a few altercations with Glenn. “You do anything that hurts.“

“Yeah, yeah,” he says sarcastically. “If I hurt your brother, son, or precious little friends, you’ll point that rifle right at me.”

“You do anything to hurt Daryl, and I’ll pull the trigger.”

“Well, ain’t I glad to know my brother has a guard dog?”

“Shh!” Seeing a vehicle approaching, you point your gun in its direction, ready to fire if it’s an enemy, but thankfully, it’s your people returning. “They’re back.”

—

Something was going on between Rick, Daryl, and Hershel; they were keeping a secret from the rest of you. Your issue wasn’t with being kept out of the loop per se, but you didn’t like the atmosphere it was causing. Both Daryl and Rick were avoiding you, and Hershel constantly looks like he’s about to start crying.

Rick told you the governor was gearing up for war, but you knew he was holding back.

“You want to go for a nap?” You kiss Jace’s cheek multiple times before placing him in the travel cot. Michonne, Carl, and Rick got on their last run. “Sleep tight, baby.”

Having a cot meant you got to sleep better during the night; instead of worrying, he’d somehow crawl out of the cell. They had also brought back a few toys and clothes for him and Judith to share. Knowing he had something other kids had before the world went to shit made you feel better, more hopeful that one day he would have a better chance.

You go to the cellblock where all the supplies are kept and start separating ammunition into different piles. Glenn has come up with the idea of hiding a few boxes of bullets outside, so if anyone got pinned down, they wouldn’t run low. You lift your head and smile when Daryl walks into the room and says, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

It gnaws on you that Daryl avoids making eye contact with him. “Did you do it?”

He looks almost alarmed by the question, “W-what?”

“Michonne’s idea? Putting down barbed wire will slow down any vehicle. I’ve got a few ideas I want to pick her brain about later.”

Daryl gulps it down nervously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah… no.” He finally lifts his head to look up at you, and he seems to be torn. “I… fuck, I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Is this about the governor?"

Sighing, he sits down beside you and holds his head with his hand. “The governor offered to make a deal with Rick; we hand over Michonne, and he’ll leave us alone.”

“But my brother wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking over Daryl’s shoulder at the doorway at the same time Rick walks in. “Tell him you wouldn’t do that.”

“Lily.”

Your stomach drops upon seeing the look on your brother's face; he had actually considered it. “Tell him, Rick, tell me you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t hand a woman over to that man!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“There is no difference between Merle snatching me and Glenn off the street and handing us over to the governor than there is you doing it. Is this what the three of you have been whispering about? Trying to figure out the best way to do it without the rest of us noticing? That man terrorized me and Glenn.”

You glare at your brother as he comes and sits down on the opposite side of you. “I’m not going to do it... I did consider it. But we can't, and I can’t. It’s not who we are.”

You shake your head in disgust. Rick knew exactly what the governor had done to you, and whatever he had planned for Michonne would be a thousand times worse. Tears of anger begin to form.

“Don’t, don’t do that,” Rick sighs. “I’m going to tell Michonne the truth. About the deal, about... how I thought about it.”

“How could you even think about it?” The difference between people like us and people like them is that we protect our own.”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to do. If I had to choose between saving a person I barely know and my family, I’d always choose my family.”

“Siblings, huh? I can’t live with them; I can’t live without them. But at the end of the day, you’d do anything for them.”

Daryl shakes his head when his brother sits at the table with a smug look on his face. “Shut up, Merle,” you say. “I’m going to check on Judith.”

—

Looking around the prison yard, panic starts to set in. You notice your brother and run to him. “Rick, Rick!”

Seeing you panicked, he runs over and meets you halfway. “What’s going on?”

“Somethings wrong; I can’t find Michonne or Daryl.”

“I know,” he says, looking down at the ground. “Merle went through with it; he took Michonne, and Daryl’s gone after him to bring her back.”

“He’s gone out there alone.”

He nods.

You rub at your face and say, “Damn it. If the governor finds them, he will kill all three of them.”

“Daryl is a survivor. He and Michonne will be coming back through those gates in no time.”

Tears start to build up. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely, both of them have better chances of surviving out there than either of us.” Rick was right; they would be fine. “I just want to say, before... I wasn’t thinking clearly. I would never have turned her over. I was just grasping at any chance I could to try and save the lives of my people, but you’re right, Michonne is one of us now.”

“I shouldn’t be so quick to judge when it’s not me in the position to make that choice. Hell, I’ve done a lot of questionable things.”

Rick hugs you tightly, and you squeal a little when you feel the pressure against the flesh that had been grazed by the bullet. “From now on, there is only one secret we keep: that night on the farm, and that’s it.”

“Agreed.”

When you start to walk back towards the prison, a hint of a smirk appears on Rick’s face. He puts his arm around your shoulder and says, “I need to ask you something, and I need a completely honest answer.”

“Okay?”

“For a while there, I was hearing things and seeing things that weren’t there. So I need you to tell me, did I really see you kissing Daryl with a dead possum at your feet, or did I imagine that?”

“Let’s go find the others.”

—

Your brother stands in front of the remaining members of your group in the courtyard while you sit around a picnic table. He looks stressed, scared of how the others will react. Admittedly, you were horrified when Daryl told you, but you don’t believe him; Rick or Hershel would have actually gone through with it.

“When I met with the governor, he offered me a deal. He said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne.” Rick’s jaw wobbles slightly as he talks; he was struggling to hold it together. “And I was going to do that... to keep us safe. I changed my mind. But now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal, and Daryl went to stop him, but I don’t know if it’s too late. I was wrong not to tell you. And I’m sorry. What I said last year—that first night after the farm—it can’t be like that. It can’t. What we do, what we’re willing to do, who we are—it’s not my call. It can’t be. I couldn’t sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we are the greater good. We’re the reason we’re still here—not me, all of us. How we live, how we die—it ain’t up to me. I ain’t your governor. We chose to go. We chose to stay. We stick together.”

Nobody knows what to say.

“We vote. We can stay or fight, or we pack up stuff and leave.”

“I’m proud of you, Rick.”

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective III

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Unprotected non-con sex, fingering, thigh riding (kinda), rough body play & kissing, cloth ripping, manhandling, swearing, degradation, cum shot.

— WORDS: 2.7k

— A/N: Thank you for your support! 💗😍😘

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

The Fall

Bateman’s shameless touch on her mound caused her legs to shake a bit, but Andrea managed to pull herself together, just like she was trained in the police academy.

"Mm-mmhm," the detective's low moan echoed off the walls of his fashionable living room. "Jus-st," she managed to say through the gag. "Kill m-me...already."

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to the side, trying to hide from his piercing gaze and hot breath. The firmness of his palm on her pussy was the last thing she needed to worry about, but the way her body was reacting insisted on doing something. With deliberate but gentle movements, the brunette arched her back like a cat about to slip from his grip.

Patrick knitted his eyebrows in concentration. Why didn't he just kill her like he had originally planned? Even Paul Allen, that smug bastard, hadn't suffered for long...

"Sassy girls just don't understand this luxury. I'm a 'narcissistic liar'?" Patrick suddenly remembered the personal verdict she'd written along her notes, and added with a very soft voice, as if he regretted having to tell her this: "Wrong. I'm a fucking psychopath, darling."

So close to her exposed neck, her scent was overwhelmingly intense, not a perfume he could name, but something that drove him crazy. And disguised as mockery, he couldn't help but kiss her neck.

An electric shock coursed through Andrea's nerves at his unexpected move, the warmth of his lips making her small body tremble, and she could swear to God that she tried to pull away from him, but she was stuck.

"A-awwwww," she squealed, twitching under his massive frame. "S-stop...mmh-stop...mmphp-please!"

‘Yeah, yeah, you think I'm so scared and vulnerable… c'mon, enjoy my weakness…’

The woman tried to close her legs just to provoke him, to make him think she was scared and didn't want him to continue. The moment he lost his attention, she would stun him with the bottle of wine that lay on the coffee table next to the large knife. No, she would not die today. Noticing the detective's attempts to back away, Patrick replaced his hand between her legs with a knee, forcing them apart with more force. Her back was half bent over the short back of the couch, and through the sheer proximity of their bodies, Patrick could feel her small frame trembling beneath him. The gag was pretty much undone by this point, but he didn't care. The sense of power her reaction had given him was dangerous for both of them - he found himself trapped in a tunnel vision of desire and suddenly obsessed with the idea of leaving his mark on her… He bit down on the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Only now did the woman realize that her hands were free, and for a moment she tried to claw at his biceps through the expensive fabric of his jacket, but it only seemed to spur him on as she heard his low growl close to her ear. 

Twitching, Andrea managed to spit out the gag. "Leave me alone, you fucking ... you fucking asshole!" 

With a loud grunt, the detective began to struggle, trying to kick him off and reach the bottle on the coffee table, his knee between her legs pressed against her mound and it was quite painful, but she didn't care.

"Fucking bitch!" Patrick snapped, and as the detective struggled violently against him, he reached a breaking point. "I'm done with this!"

In one swift movement, he grabbed the woman by her curls and brutally forced her face down on the couch. It was a humiliating position - Patrick pressed against Andrea while her ass was half in the air, the muscular thighs trapping her. With his free hand he reached effortlessly for the knife, his arm much longer than hers. He held the hair out of her face, enjoying the look of fear on her face.

As the woman felt the sharp, cold steel against her throat, her whole life flashed before her eyes, but in the next moment she was in control of her emotions.

"Why did you stop?" Andrea taunted him without any visible anxiety. "Or haven't you decided yet what you want to do with me—fuck me or kill me? Or maybe both?"

The detective spat out her words in his face. She knew that if Patrick would kill her, the police would get his ass, since she had informed her boyfriend before going to dinner with Bateman. But the prospect of being killed didn't seem appealing.

"They're going to get you, Bateman," the woman suddenly hissed through clenched teeth. "They know I had dinner with you... you know what I mean? The police will barbecue your fucking ass even if you kill me!"

Patrick couldn't help but laugh at her words. Not because she was completely wrong (statistically, he should have been found out long ago), but because she had misjudged his nature.

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. I just can't stop." 

He stared at her absently, not entirely pleased with the idea that this woman might be his last victim, and yet not feeling the usual panic attack rising within him. If there had ever been a point of no return, this wasn't it. 

"...but either way, you are about to pay the price for your insufferable curiosity…” And with a very quick and calculated move, he drew the blade of his knife down Andrea's body. 

From the neckline to the hem, Patrick had sliced open her dress precisely, leaving her skin almost completely intact - except for a razor-thin cut on her thigh. He roughly pushed the fabric aside, exposing her body, which was devastatingly tanned all over. No tan lines. Even though Bateman hadn't intended to cut Andrea's skin—not now, he had done so by accident, and now her soft skin was cracked in places, the cuts itch and hurt, but she still didn't dare to be weak and pathetic. With several long cuts, he slashed her clothes, leaving her completely naked from head to toe.

As the man traced her thin trail of pubic hair, the detective couldn't help but bite her lower lip. "Why...why are you acting like you're seeing a woman's body for the first time?" No matter how hard she tried to hide her growing arousal, her voice betrayed her.

"I see your boyfriend didn't pay much attention to you." Patrick tried to sound dismissive at the sight of her pubic hair—both the prostitutes and the hard bodies from the club were always clean shaven. 

Still, he found it hard to pull his hands away from her, finding himself embarrassingly curious about what it would feel like to put his mouth on her. Shaking off such crazy thoughts, Patrick instead let his fingers wander lower and spread her lower lips, well aware of how her core trembled under his touch and how she tried not to make a sound. 

"Is that why you're so wet for a psychopath?"  And though he said it with his usual arrogance, his voice dropped a little lower.

Andrea couldn't help but arch her back towards him, and she didn't even know if she was doing it to stop him from killing her, or if it was her physical need that confirmed his previous statement about her boyfriend. "Bateman," she gasped as his fingers dove into her heat. "Bateman...mmhm-mmm, fuck me," the woman moaned suddenly, grinding against his body. "I know you want it... I know you crave dominance...so take what you want..." Her seductive whisper was designed to make him lose his mind, which would give her opportunities to play around. "Ruin me…"

Never before had a woman offered herself to Patrick with such blatant desperation, let alone one so aware of his dark nature. And even though the detective was probably hoping to save her life, he could tell that her body wanted him at the same time. His fingers had slipped into her too easily, the wet sound so obscene and the way she urged him to go deeper... Still holding her with one hand, Patrick loosened his tie and tore open his pants, pulling off his suspenders as he did so. He didn't bother to strip completely for the moment; part of him wanted her to admire his toned body, but the other part enjoyed the contrast of her vulnerable nakedness and his formal clothing. 

"Oh, you don't even know what you're asking for, little detective," Patrick groaned hoarsely, grabbing her by the hips and pulling Andrea effortlessly onto his lap, where she was now pressed flush against his length. Without even giving her a chance to answer, Patrick kissed Andrea hard on the lips. With a muffled gulp, the detective wrapped her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss with no less passion, tangling her fingers in his soft hair, now so messy and curly.

"Mmhmm...you're so needy, Mr. Bateman," Andrea whispered into his ear after breaking the kiss, leaving a trail of split between their mouths. "I thought I was not your type," the woman nipped at his neck and sucked on the mark. "But your erection says otherwise." Slowly, she began to hump on him, pressing against his hard groin. With every thrust of her hips against his, Andrea moaned loudly, her face flushed and sweaty.

"I could say the same about you - first I get bratty insults, now you hump my lap like a bitch in heat. Where does that come from?" Patrick murmured in a low voice, less threatening but still expressing his arousal. 

Unable to suppress the twitch of his cock at her words, he only pressed her closer to his hot flesh, brushing against her entrance. His hands had found their way to Andrea's ass, greedily cupping and massaging the soft skin, a kind of silent and far more honest response. ‘I just feel sorry for this woman who never had a really good fuck.’

Andrea's disheveled hair seemed to have doubled in volume, her tits pressed teasingly against his chest with every movement, and Patrick felt so overwhelmed for a moment; as if he could eat and consume her, but somehow not in the literal sense as he had done with others before.

Gasping, Andrea mentally begged her boyfriend for forgiveness before wrapping her hand around the base of Bateman's fat cock, then pumping the full length. "You're... so pathetic..." she uttered into the crook of his neck before she lowered herself onto his dick and the moment its tip slipped into her heat, the woman screamed in pain. "F-fuck, why are...why are you so fucking big," she stopped halfway, grabbing his shoulder and trying to adjust to his size. "So pathetic...but big…”

Patrick watched Andrea's struggle with undisguised satisfaction, the way she desperately tried to get somewhere, making her insults seem like projection. "You can't wait to have me, and it makes you act like a virgin. You think this will work without preparation?" He took his length and pressed it flush against Andrea's stomach, showing how easily it reached from her entrance past her belly button. "You're either a lot more masochistic than you admit, or you're used to small dicks," Patrick murmured in her ear with barely controlled temper. "Am I right? Your boyfriend is so small that he can do it without lube?"

He let go of her trembling thighs and suddenly pushed Andrea to the floor, forcing her to lie on her back - her soft flesh was so warm to the touch - a startling contrast to the cold wooden floor. 'She had probably never been tied up before. Plush handcuffs at most, I'd say,' Patrick thought with a mixture of contempt and raw excitement. 'I'm going to show her a whole new spectrum of pain and pleasure, and this pathetic little body is so unprepared for it, it might as well have never been fucked before.'

"Well, this is all you get either way for being such an insufferable little cunt." Patrick spat crudely on her pussy and watched in fascination as it clenched around nothing. 

As soon as Andrea tried to move away from him, he pinned her hips down with one hand and used the other to roughly spread his salvia all over her. Experimentally, he pumped two of his fingers inside her. It would not help, Patrick knew very well. A final slap on her sensitive mound that made Andrea tremble before Patrick spread her legs apart and drove his cock into her tightness with a sharp trust of his hips. The woman's legs shook from the pain of Bateman's fat girth tearing her apart from the inside out, and the worst part was that this bastard was right - her boyfriend was nothing compared to him, absolutely nothing. 

'But... but I love him anyway… I'm just doing this to get back to him alive.' This thought made Andrea whimper and swallow her tears from the physical and mental pain. "Bateman, Bateman..." she hiccupped as his cockhead poked at her cervix. "F-fuck, it's so deep..." she had to close her eyes because she couldn't see Patrick's smug face as he had her sing for him like a siren. "It won't fit!" At some point, the woman was afraid that his dick, with its size, would fucking tear her apart, she could feel her soft inner walls desperately trying to accommodate what he was giving her, even though it was too fucking painful. One raw stroke after another, her body was nothing but a canvas for his wicked paintings and she couldn't do anything but let him have his way with her. 'I'm so sorry.'

Andrea was dying of shame, especially when she felt her orgasm building in her core from the fullness Bateman was giving her, not to mention when this jerk trapped her hard nipple between his expert fingers, twisting it like a radio volume control. "Ahh-hhhhh, you're gonna...you're gonna fucking split me in a half…!" The woman screamed, clawing at her own skin to stifle her cries.

"Look at that, I'm holding back but you already can't take it," Patrick spat out, not angry but grasping for control at the sight of his base still unable to fit inside. 

She was so tight - so much tighter than Patrick had expected, tighter than any he had ever had and God yes, he wanted to fuck her apart, even if it would kill them both. He wouldn't have been able to stop with a gun to his head, let alone care about her crying and pleading, which only served to intensify his destructive frenzy. Holding Andrea by the hips, a grip so hard it would leave bruises, Patrick forced her body into his power, pressing her harder against him like a cheap doll. And as if her weight meant nothing, he thrusted her brutally, the friction he gained with every movement washing over him in hot pleasure. The sound of skin against skin echoed off the walls and her increasingly mindless babbling and moaning challenged the soundproofing, but Patrick had never cared less. 

"Did you know that Tom Cruise lives in this complex? Tom fucking Cruise can hear you whining like a whore!" He laughed breathlessly at the sight of Andrea writhing underneath him and how little it had taken for her pride to crumble. 

But his punishment came only seconds later. 

As her orgasm approached, Andrea squeezed him even tighter, something that seemed impossible but almost caused Patrick to lose it on the spot, forcing a raw moan from his throat. But he couldn't have that, couldn't allow himself the humiliation of cumming right in front of her eyes, so he gritted his teeth and cursed and fucked Andrea through her first climax, fucked her until the overstimulation hurt him and it became impossible to delay the inevitable any longer. Patrick had barely enough time to pull out before a violent shudder ran through his body and he exploded all over her, spilling even her face with stray drops of his thick cum. And as Bateman looked down at her, breathing heavily and meeting Andrea's glazed eyes, Patrick knew that it was not nearly enough for him… that he needed her more…

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[sunkissedandseraphic]

oh! i meant u should create your own!! maybe daryl has a younger sister?

Family Ties || Daryl Dixon & oc!sister

Summary: Daryl Dixon loved his sister more than anything, and they'd give their lives for each other (their relationship throughout the course of the timeline)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: mentions of child abuse, twd-type violence, brief eluding to sa

A/N: I had so much fun writing this request, lmk if you'd like to see more of this oc in the future!

From the moment the Dixons arrived at the quarry camp, judgments started flying. Glares were cast towards the two redneck brothers and the younger girl that followed them– particularly the one whose wardrobe consisted of flannels with the sleeves ripped off– around like a lost puppy.

The group conversed every moment the family of three was out of earshot, trying to decipher what lay underneath each one’s rough exterior.

“Is that his kid?”

“I feel bad for whatever woman had to carry his product for nine months,”

Lori and Andrea were seated by the water, working on the growing piles of laundry with Carol and Jacqui, sifting through different rumors that recently run throughout the quarry about the Dixons. They couldn’t help the laughing and the whispers hidden behind their hands, eyes flicking to the teen, Belle, across the water with the younger of the two Dixons.

“Belle’s their sister.” A voice came from behind the women. They all turned to see Carl standing to the side, smiling as he gestured over to where they had all just been staring. “She told me. She’s nice, she’s not like her brothers,”

It seemed that Carl had the final say because after his small input, all hushed conversations speculating the Dixons were shut down. Nobody particularly sought any of them out to talk, but the air around the camp shifted to a lighter tone.

Unlike her brothers, once the rumors were cut short, Belle’s sweet demeanor quickly shone. She never hesitated to help around with any job and never failed to provide a sense of relief in pressing moments– which often translated into cracking snide comments after one of Shane’s meltdowns. 

The night of the fish fry, Belle was by Carol and Carl when the walkers invaded. Her heart stopped from terror; Merle was gone, Daryl was out looking for him, and she was surrounded by people she hardly knew. It was no secret she could fight, but God, she just wanted Daryl back. 

Belle was taking down her third walker when she heard the gunfire. Her head whipped around to see Rick bursting into the camp, the few that had followed to Atlanta trailing behind. Everything was a blur, and though desperate to find Daryl’s face, there was too much to process who any of the people fighting were. 

As the last of the horde fell limp, she heard a familiar voice booming in the darkness. “Belle!” Was he back? Could it be him? “Where is she? Where’s my sister?” 

The knife fell from Belle’s grip as she ran, the urge to cry bubbling in her chest. “Daryl!” Her throat burned from screaming for her brother over and over again, and the moment she crashed into him, tears spilled over. 

Daryl wasted no time wrapping his arms around his sister, cradling her head, and rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Hey, s’okay, I’ve gotcha,” he whispered, attempting to provide Belle with any comfort. “I’m here, Bumblebee,”

The group was stunned, watching how dramatically Daryl’s behavior changed to a side of him nobody had ever seen before; they had never seen the redneck so gentle, so caring. They didn’t even know he could be. But, when they saw him walk Belle into a quiet corner of the camp and place her hand over his heart, aiding her back to less panicked breathing, they figured maybe the Dixon siblings weren’t so bad.

________________

“You look like whatever Hershel’s horse shits out,”

Belle heard her brother’s strained laugh as she entered the guest bedroom of the farmhouse, a towel and pitcher of water in her free hand. As she kicked the door closed, she caught sight of Daryl; bandages wrapped around his head, but dirt and blood still strong on his skin. “Feel like it too,” Daryl groaned, watching as the sixteen-year-old fluttered about the room.

Sighing, Belle towered over the bed and placed her hand on Daryl's forehead, relieved there was no fever in sight. “Maybe it’s a sign to take a break. Maybe it’s God fuckin’ with you so you learn to be careful when you do this shit.”

When Daryl heard the crack in his sister’s voice, his heart felt a pinch of agony. The search for Sophia had taken a toll on him, though no matter how much it hurt when Carol’s face swam with disappointment daily after returning empty-handed, it couldn’t compare to how guilty he was seeing Belle’s anxiety increase every new day.

There was quite an age gap between the Dixon siblings: though Merle was only six years older than Daryl, Daryl was nearly twelve years older than Belle. Despite this, the two younger Dixons’ bond was unbreakable; when living with their father, Daryl had always taken the brunt of the abuse for her, and because of that, she clung to Daryl. He was the reason she left the house at such a young age, never having to spend too much of her childhood in that hell. Merle on the other hand was… well, he was Merle. The two were never as close.

“Bee…” Daryl’s voice instantly trailed off, unsure of how to ease her frustrations. As Belle dampened the towel to begin scrubbing the grime from his face, he remained quiet, afraid he would only aggravate his sister further. Once the cloth got dry, Belle set it back in the bowl, and Daryl said the only thing that came to mind.

“I saw Merle.” “What? Where? When? Did he–” Belle spat out, tipping the bowl and splashing water onto the hardwood. She rushed forward, frantic for more information, though stopped short of the bed when Daryl waved his hand.

“Nah, not actually. Hallucinated him.” The explanation was brief, but it still managed to crush Belle’s heart. Even if the two had never gotten along, had never been particularly close, Merle was still her brother. She was allowed to miss him. She was allowed to be scared.

Silence fell over the room once more when Belle returned to scrubbing the filth covering Daryl’s skin. Tension was crushing, and guilt was swirling in Daryl’s stomach. He loved his sister, and he knew she was scared, and he hated to admit it, but so was he. 

“Thought I was gon’ die out there.” 

His words cut deep. Hesitantly, Belle glanced at Daryl and set the rag back in its holder. “You still have family to come back for, y’know,” She mumbled, focusing down and away from Daryl while she sat on the edge of the bed.

Daryl wasted no time extending his arms out to his sister. The moment she accepted, Daryl squeezed her as tight as he could manage, minding his wounds, and pressed his lips to her temple.  

“Always gonna come back for you, Bee,”

_______________________

When the prison fell Daryl escaped with Beth, and Belle found their way out alongside Tyrese and the kids, though neither knew where the other was. Every moment Daryl spent with the younger Greene, his mind drifted to his sister; what if she was dead? What if she had gotten hurt? Or bitten?

Daryl lost count of how many nights he spent staring at the sky, his stomach in knots thinking about where Belle could be. She was seventeen now, but she was still his baby sister. 

When Beth was taken, the last piece of hope within Daryl died. If Beth was gone, Belle had to be. They were gone just like all the others. Then, when he found Rick, Carl, and Michonne after the group he had become included in, The Claimers, ambushed their small camp, a flicker of possibility rekindled. With that spark, though, was the deep horror that came from watching those… monsters put their hands on Carl– what if that was happening to Belle and he couldn’t be there to stop it? What kind of big brother would he be then?

Rick had done everything to reach the older man, but it was useless. His walls towered higher than anything in sight, and Daryl had no plans to let a soul inside them.

Daryl’s stone facade– scarily reminiscent of the person he was back at the quarry– remained until after Terminus, when during the joyous reunion with Carol, she informed him Belle was with Tyrese and Judith that very moment.

Daryl Dixon spent his life running from shadows and screams, but when he watched Belle exit a tiny cabin with those two, his feet moved so fast he was convinced he was flying. In the blink of an eye, Daryl was cradling his sister in his hold, not ashamed of the sob ripped from his throat. “God…” He choked out, face concealed in Belle’s shoulder. It felt like a dream, as though when he opened his eyes, she would be gone again. 

They were both shaking, crying like there was no tomorrow. Despite the multitude of reuniting happening, right then, it was only Daryl and Belle in those woods. They were together again, and goddamnit, that was the only thing that mattered. 

Past fears rushing back, Daryl suddenly pulled away from the embrace and steadied his hands

on Belle, searching up and down for any bite marks or bruises. Belle tried to dismiss the frantic scanning, but when Daryl traced over a fairly fresh cut running down the underside of her forearm, she shook her head and grabbed his hands. “It’s not a walker scratch, I’m okay. I’m okay, Daryl,” Belle smiled. 

This time, Belle trapped Daryl inside a hug, and he put up no fight. He was like putty in her hands, just grateful that his sister was breathing and standing before him. “Didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again,” he admitted, voice cracking. He had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like. “I can't lose you. I can’t lose the only family I got left.”

______________________

“My goodness! Look at this pretty little thing, thinkin’ she can swing her fist wherever she pleases!”Negan– the real Negan, not one of his bullshit goons– taunted, sliding his index finger underneath Belle’s chin. Her jaw grinding shut, eyes glaring into his soul, almost challenging him. Her group, her family, had watched two of their own brutally murdered, so who could blame her for throwing a fist in retaliation? 

The teen caught the leader’s attention. He sauntered over, a smug smile plastered across his lips; he had ideas for Belle in mind. She was headstrong and stubborn, you’d have to be blind and deaf to miss it, but he knew she was scared at her core. 

There was a disgusting gleam in Negan’s eyes. “Well, there is only one correct response for that, right?” He chuckled, turning his head toward the man behind him. “Dwighty-Boy, load her up.”

Belle’s throat constricted the moment Dwight took a single step forward, but before he could get near her, a gruff voice stopped him in his tracks.“No!” Daryl screamed, all gazes settling on him. Negan took his protest as a dare and stooped in front of Daryl, waiting for what Daryl would demand. He wasn’t afraid, though, because he knew it was an act. He had known men like Negan, and there was no way in hell he would let someone like this near his sister. “You take me. You keep your hands off her and you take me.”

In all honesty, Negan couldn’t give two shits which Dixon was kept at The Sanctuary. So, with no opposition, he shrugged and moved aside so Dwight could tie Daryl up and get him into their truck, prepared for the ride back. As he was dragged across the pavement, Daryl snuck one sad grin to Belle, leaving her with something she could remember him by. “No! No, please, take me! Take me! Leave him! Take me!” Belle’s voice was giving out, too afraid to hold back. She couldn’t lose Daryl. Losing the only family she had left would certainly be the end. 

While Daryl gave no resistance, Belle’s wails grew louder, and Negan only rolled his eyes. His baseball bat swung between her and Daryl as a gesture to the siblings, Glenn’s blood stuck to the wood splattering on her top. “You two must be either screwing or from the same litter with your obnoxious indecisiveness, but seein’ those resemblances, that must be your big brother, am I right?” His hand found its way to Belle’s cheek, and she flinched as Negan caressed her. “Well, darling, though very tempting to get another beautiful face at my Sanctuary, I already have my men loading your brother up,”

It had been almost three weeks since the lineup, since Daryl had been ripped away from Belle. She had no idea if her brother was okay, let alone alive at this point– she had seen him once when the Saviors came to collect from Alexandria, but Negan had made sure there was no way she could get to him. 

When Belle saw Daryl in Alexandria that day, she barely recognized the man. Obviously deprived of basic hygiene, he was skittish and silent– seeing Daryl that day was like looking at Daryl when living with their father. He was not himself, and it brought Belle pain to know the scared little boy reappeared from the shadows of his past.

Whoever claimed absence made the heart grow fonder was built on bullshit. Her brother’s absence whisked Belle into a surreal state of hardly eating or sleeping through the weeks, while the nervous habit of picking at the skin around her nails left her fingers cracked and bloody. It would have been easy to mistake her for a walker rather than a living teenager. 

Carol had dragged Belle from the mountain of blankets she trapped herself under to join the group in traveling to Hilltop. Her limbs were heavy, and her mind was somehow more sluggish. She spent the whole ride to the colony with her eyes glued out the window, no thoughts passing through, yet at the same time, everything weighed on her.

As Hilltop’s gates revealed Maggie, Sacha, and Enid, there was no doubt relief touched her heart to see them safe. She welcomed the embraces, but as a man stepped out from behind a row of trailer homes nestled in the heart of Hilltop, Jesus only steps behind, her attitude changed its tune. 

“Daryl!” 

Belle’s voice echoed as she took off, going towards her brother at full speed. She disregarded the tears traveling down her cheeks and barreled into Daryl’s arms, her hands clutching his shirt with all the strength in her body. 

Stumbling backward from the sudden contact, the older Dixon chuckled, ignoring his own misty eyes. “I know, I know…” he cooed, hands combing through her curls, “I’m alright, Bumblebee, I’m okay…”

_______________________

“Plannin’ on goin’ south more past the river, ‘s been a while since I’ve searched that area. Thought maybe I could find somethin’.”

The babble of the stream provided no aid in calming Belle’s fury. Nearly four years had passed since the explosion at the bridge, since Rick had passed– or, as Daryl insisted on believing, disappeared. Once the rubble of the structure settled that tragic day, Daryl set out in search of his missing brother, whether it be as a man or a walker. 

Belle had seen her brother self-destruct her entire life; to cope with their father’s abuse, to cope with those they lost along the way, and to punish himself for what he viewed as failing the ones he loved. She had seen Daryl push himself, but never like this. These were uncharted waters, and she despised the stubborn glimmer of determination.

For six years, Daryl called these woods home and gave his life to find Rick, to bring him home to his community, his wife, and his kids. For six years, Belle had begged for her brother to come home, each plea to no avail. 

“Are you ever gonna come home?” Belle spat venom with her tone, refusing eye contact and instead showering Dog with some greatly deserved attention. If Daryl wouldn’t come home for her, certainly the guilt card could be applied. “Carol keeps asking for you, Judith keeps asking for you; everyone misses you, Daryl.”

However, her guilt-tripping fell deaf on Daryl’s ears as she listened to his persistent, yet predictable, argument for what felt like the hundredth time. “We don’t know if he’s out there, Belle, we never found a body. If I keep lookin’, I might find–” “That’s just it, you don’t know if you’ll ever actually find him!” Every ounce of frustration, the resentment of not being able to convince Daryl to return to where he belonged, toppled over. The wall crumbled down, and there was no blocking the ugly truth that spilled. “You need to accept that, you need to accept he might just be dead!” “Nah! No fuckin’ way!” Their faces were suddenly inches apart, the jab of his finger on her chest earning a flinch from Belle. “Rick ain’t dead, and I ain’t gonna stop looking for him. Alexandria deserves their leader, Michonne don’t deserve to raise her kids alone!”

“She is not alone! Everyone pitches in, but you’d know that if you actually ever came home.” A crack in Belle’s voice gave room for rage to melt into heartache. Daryl needed to understand how badly this was hurting her, hurting their community. “They ask about you all the damn time, Daryl. Judith wants to see you again. They deserve their uncle, Michonne deserves to have you supporting her.”

A conversation meant to just be a check-in on each Dixon sibling had dissolved into a war, and knowing no positive outcome would result, Daryl’s whistle signaled to Dog it was time to take their leave. With a pat on the thigh, Dog trotted beside his owner, and in one last desperate attempt, Belle pulled the final ace from her sleeve. 

“I know you lost a brother on that bridge, but you left a sister.”

Belle shot to kill and damn, she never missed a target. Realizing the effect of his isolation felt like being dunked in cold water, waking him up to what he had been so blind to before. He’d thrown himself into searching for Rick and never paid mind to the family he had left, so convinced that this was what could help those same people. 

Michonne survived on what was real. Judith and RJ survived on their community. Alexandria survived on those bold enough to step up. Belle survived on her family; her brother. Rick may have been all of those things, but so was Daryl. They all needed him, now more than ever, and Belle was no exception.

His footsteps paused, and with a heavy sigh and keeping his back to his sister, Daryl gave his final word on the matter. 

“Tell Judith I’ll see her tomorrow,” _______________________

The air surrounding Hilltop that night was unfamiliar, uneasy. It stirred up memories of the war against the Saviors for many of its inhabitants, and while unwelcome, there was no avoiding it. 

This battle in retaliation to the attacks of the Whisperers was rumored to become the turning point of the bloodshed. Each community had settled on the land to prepare their defense. There were militia stationed around every corner, weapons at the ready for the moment it all began, and tension was inescapable. 

Now twenty-seven, Belle Dixon was willing to lay down her life to defend her people. It was impossible to miss how quickly she had grown from a skittish teenager equipped with hand-me-down survival basics into a warrior, with no restraints of fear or lingering doubts when it came to the new way of life. Belle had become a force of nature overnight, and Daryl never held more pride in the Dixon name. 

“Hey, y’alright?”

Daryl’s voice startled Belle from her spaced-out trance as she scanned the tables of weapons. Her hand reached for her bow and arrow, while also grabbing the set of knives she carried with her at all times. Adjusting her arsenal, Belle cast a grin at her brother while taking note of the setting sun. “Yeah. Let’s fuckin’ go.” _______________________

As the clocks ticked on, just over two years had gone by since Alpha’s reign was defeated, and now, Alexandria had been returned to its former glory and stood as a Commonwealth neighbor. A general sense of serenity ruled each community now, and with the ease of knowing their people rested in capable hands, Daryl decided it was time to continue the search for Rick.

“Please be safe,” Belle fussed, adjusting Daryl’s poncho.

Daryl knew that Belle had doubts about him leaving the Commonwealth’s safety, but he knew she understood why he had to set out once more. It wouldn’t be like before, this time it was different; this time there was nobody to push away, no crushing fear of needing to repay some sort of debt. These were Daryl’s terms, and the calling was too strong to push aside. “Always am, Belle,” Belle scoffed at her brother’s blatant lie, shoving him once he laughed with admission. “No, you’re not. I don’t know how many times you’ve landed in the infirmary or I’ve had to stitch you up myself,” 

Daryl made his first attempt to escape but was stopped by Belle running through the mental checklist she crafted for Daryl’s journey one final time. His second was cut short when she questioned the marked pathways on his map, the same ones she had approved barely fifteen minutes ago. The third, however, was interrupted when Belle asked to check the brakes of his motorcycle, convinced someone may have tampered with them.

“I promise I’ll be fine, Bee,” Daryl assured her, placing his hand on her cheek and smiling, wondering when his baby sister had grown up so fast. “You’ll radio so I know you’re alive?” “I’ll radio so you know I’m alive.”

After hearing the final confirmation, Belle wrapped her arms around Daryl and buried her head into his chest, savoring every last moment she had with her brother. “I love you, Daryl,” she muttered, eyelids falling closed, finding comfort in her brother’s hugs just like she had when she was a child. “Love ya more, Bumblebee.”

[taringill]

My rottmnt OC (new)

This girl's name is Andrea Darvish. Her surname is of Persian origin. When I drew her, I realized that Andrea resembles a person with a Persian appearance. That's why she has such a surname. She is an LGBT representative, and specifically she is bisexual. Andrea had a relationship with a girl before Casey Jr., when she was 16 years old. Andrea's relationship with her ex-girlfriend lasted about a year

Эту девушку зовут Андреа Дарвиш. Её фамилия персидского происхождения. Когда я нарисовала её, то поняла, что Андреа напоминает человека с персидской внешностью. Поэтому у неё такая фамилия. Она является представителем ЛГБТ, а конкретно она бисексуальной ориентации. У Андреа были отношения с девушкой до Кейси мл., когда той было 16. Отношения Андреа с её бывшей девушкой продлились около года

In short, Andrea is a girl, and in the future the wife of Casey Jones Jr. Both are athletic. Casey Jr. is a professional hockey player in the future, and Andrea is a tennis coach in the future. They met at a sports university when they were both 21 years old.

Короче, Андреа - это девушка, а в будущем жена Кейси Джонса Младшего. Оба спортивные. Кейси младший в будущем профессиональный хоккеист, а Андреа в будущем тренер по теннису. Познакомились они в спортивном университете, когда им обоим было по 21 году.

Casey Jr. broke up with Violetta Addams (my oc) when they were both 17 years old (about 18 years old). Yes, it happens that you break up with your partner. But this does not mean that you will not have a new partner. And perhaps with a new partner, everything will work out much better than with the previous one. This is what happened to Casey Jr.

Кейси Мл. расстался с Виолеттой Аддамс (моя ос), когда им обоим было по 17 лет (около 18 лет). Да, бывает такое, что вы расстаётесь со своим партнёром. Но это не значит, что у вас не появится новый партнёр. И, возможно, с новым партнёром у вас всё сложится гораздо лучше, чем с предыдущем. Это и случилось с Кейси мл.

[yanderepuck]

Salai-Chapter 8

WELCOME TO SALAI'S ROUTE. This is a FAN MADE route of my oc, Salai. This means this route contains my headcanons for the characters and in no way is suppose to represent the canon story. This is just a fun little time because I know many of you enjoy Salai. Feel free to engage, talk theories, send asks (even to @ask-salai ).

DISCLAIMER: His route his not canon to his character. Also, all of his lore in not in the route for simplicity reasons plus please feel free to ask about him.

Banner by @spooscribbles

You finally get to the mansion after hailing down a carriage and you hurry inside.

Sebastian: Mitsuki!

You look over and see him and Napoleon rushing over to you.  Napoleon takes you in his arms and holds you.

Napoleon: Where were you?!

They sound so worried about you.

Sebastian: What happened?  Are you hurt at all?  Why didn’t you come home?

They start bombarding you with questions and then Sebastian sees the bandage on your arm.

Sebastian: You are hurt!

You haven’t even gotten a chance to say anything.

Napoleon: What?  

He lets you go and looks at your arm.  He then picks you up.

Napoleon: Let’s get you cleaned up.

Mitsuki: H-Hey!  I can walk!  Plus I’m fine.  It’s just a little scratch and Andrea took care of me.

Napoleon: Andrea?

Sebastian:  You mean that guy you went to lunch with the other day?  The one you just met and I told you to be careful around.

He would flick your head if you weren’t already hurt

Mitsuki: It’s not like that!  We spent the day together yesterday and I was going to leave-

Napoleon: You spent the day with some stranger?

Mitsuki: I've lived with you guys for a month and we’re all strangers

You pout.  Is it really any better?  Maybe you could argue that it’s different, but not by much.

Mitsuki: But I’m fine!  He took care of the cut and I stayed in his apartment for the night since it was too dangerous to go out at night.  He took care of me.

Napoleon: But did you-

Mitsuki: I slept in his bed and he slept on the couch

You already had a feeling that you were going to be asked that.

Sebastian: Well we should still clean up your arm

Napoleon is still walking with you in his arms, taking you to your room.  You pout the whole way, not wanting to be carried.  You just want to bathe and change your clothes.

Mitsuki: Can I at least bathe first?  I’ve been in the same clothes since yesterday.

Napoleon and Sebastian both hesitate to answer.

Sebastian: Fine.  But when you are done go to Arthur to look at your arm, okay?  

Napoleon sets you down finally in front of your door.

Napoleon: I’ll let everyone know that you’re back

~~

You spend a long time in the thermae, wanting to relax and think back on last night.  Why did you feel like that when he fell on you?  Did he feel the same?  He didn’t get up right away after all.  So many thoughts are running through your head.  You feel your face get flushed but just blame it on the heat of the water.  You finally get up and pat your body dry, putting on fresh clothes and wrapping your hair up in the towel.  You go back to your room and then you look at the cut on your arm.

It stings, but it isn’t deep and should be healed in a few days.  There was a lot of blood in the moment but it seemed to have closed up already.  You continue to dry your hair.  You might as well see Arthur to get it bandaged, you didn’t have anything to do it yourself.

You sigh and leave your room.  You go directly to the parlor, expecting Arthur to be in there, possibly playing chess with someone. And you were right.  Arthur was sitting there with Theo, and you knew Theo was losing with the look he had on his face.

Mitsuki: Arthur?

He had his back to you.  Hearing his name he looked over his shoulder and smiled.

Arthur: Mitsuki!  Glad to see you are safe.

He gets up from the board and comes over to you.  He immediately takes your arm and rolls up your sleeve.  In any other instance you would yell at him, but surely Sebastian told him why you were here.

Arthur: Go sit down while I get my things.

He leaves the room and you sit in the chair Arthur was originally sitting in.  Theo watches you and looks at the cut on your arm.

Theo: Are you okay?  What happened, hondje?

Mitsuki: It stings, but I’m okay.  I was on my way back and some man attacked me, but…a friend saved me.

You weren’t sure how to word it without going into too much detail, and you didn’t want to go into detail.  You are fine now and that is what matters.

Theo: I’m glad you are safe.  Maybe next time you need to go out one of us should go with you.

Mitsuki: Well… I do need to go out tomorrow… and I was hoping you would come with me.  Remember that painter I was telling you about, Andrea?  He’s open to the idea of having his paintings at the gallery and if you weren’t doing anything he’s happy to have us over tomorrow for you to look at them.

Theo was a little caught off guard.  Not the question he was expecting after the panic everyone was in over the night.

Theo: Sure.  If you think his paintings are good then I guess they are worth giving a look at.

Arthur comes back with a few things and kneels on the floor next to you

Arthur: Are you two making date plans without me?

Mitsuki:  It’s about the gallery

You let Arthur take your arm and let him do his thing.

Arthur: Right, that is coming up.  So what is it about this guy that swept you off your feet that I couldn’t do, luv

So Napoleon even told them that the friend is a guy, and that’s where you were

Mitsuki: It’s not like that!  He saved me and then let me stay at his apartment until this morning.

Theo: The painter?

Mitsuki: Yes, and nothing happened. We were hanging out, I went to his place to look at his paintings, and when I went to leave it was already late and I got hurt.  I don’t see why it is a big deal.

Arthur and Theo both look at each other, both having the same thought.

Theo: Hondje… how does that not sound like an issue to you?

Arthur: You barely know the man, and you went to his apartment

Theo: Sure that isn’t a normal thing even in your time

You pout.  You weren’t going to get through to them.  You can trust him and you know that.  He’s not dangerous and he helped you.

Mitsuki: It’s not like that was my first time spending time with him.  We went to lunch too and-

Arthur: So you got yourself a boyfriend~

He teased and Theo sighed.  There is no point in trying to explain to them.

Mitsuki: It’s not like that!

You felt your cheeks getting red, feeling embarrassed.  You stand up once Arthur is done bandaging your arm.

Mitsuki: He’s here looking for someone.  He’s not interested in me.

You quickly left the room storming down the hall.  You go to your room and lay down in bed.  Did you say that to get them to be quiet, or is it because you wanted to convince yourself?

~~~

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Ko-Fi

[girl-of-stupidology]

It’s time to craft the ultimate pathetic self-insert OC for the tenth time.

(PS Thank you sm for the love on my last Pentiment fanart! Yall r the best)

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

Diana (Ghisi) Stolz - Florentine born. Arranged wife of Werner Stolz. Diana is quite awkward and blunt when first knowing her. She likes to draw in her free time. (Name is work in progress)

Relationship status: Not really romantically inclined with each other but they respect and hold high regard for one another.

Show don’t tell: Diana seems to struggle fitting in with Tassing but in later acts grew to find her “calling” per se. Your actions towards Werner can affect the outcome of Diana in Act III.

First interaction:

[Scene: Stolz house interior, Diana is folding sheets by the beds] D: “So you’re the artist that broke my husband’s nose?” [Andreas is given a choice of dialogue options, but no matter what the reply will be, it's an introduction and apology] [Diana surprisingly smiles] D: “It’s fine. Reminded me of what I’ve did when I first met him.” A: ”…” A: “I…better go now.” D: ”…” D: “Oh. Ok. Until later.” A: “Until Later, Mrs. Stolz [x]”

What you don’t see: Diana develops an unlikely friendship with Brother Florian. They actually knew each other lightly before the events of Pentiment, since he visits Tassing before for medical help. If you’ve head butted Werner during the inspection scene, Werner will tell on the Abbott, thus resulting Brother Florian being punished by having no more access to the library books (If I remember correctly on my last gameplay, I forgot if Claus giving him the Italian book was ever mentioned). From time to time, Diana would drop by a book to the infirmary for him to read. If given the opportunity, she would come inside to teach him Italian. As an informal apology from Werner’s unnecessary insults earlier she stated.

Inspirations: Else Mülleryn, Gnaziu Agostini, Werner Stolz, Leonardo Da Vinci's Gerneva de' Benci, most works by Florentine painter Andrea del Sarto like his Lady with a Book of Petrarch's Rhyme, Lorenzo Lotto's Study of a Married Couple, Vittoria Collona, Sofonisba Anguissola

[fabseg-creator]

Tinky Winkynos VS Everyone Season Two (part 1)

This is the Season Two of the conquests of Tinky Winkynos.

Tinky Winkynos has escaped and he menaces the different franchises universes again. He fights against a maximum of possible fictional characters from different franchises (it can be against entire franchises).

The action: Tinky Winkynos invades the targeted suggested franchise. You must vote for the side of your choice.

The rule: You can help him conquer or you can stand against him by voting.

The result at the end of the poll will decide the fate of the universe(s) issue of his conquest(s). If The Mad Teletubby wins with more 50% of votes, he succeeds his conquest. If the franchise (TV show, video game, movie, novel, etc) wins 50%, the invasion is repelled.

If you have a franchise to purpose as challenge, say it by message or commentary.

List of Battles [Season Two]:

Vs Pirate of the Caribbean REPELLED

Vs One Piece REPELLED

Vs One Piece (Netflix) REPELLED

Vs Stranger Things REPELLED

Vs Yu-Gi-Oh! REPELLED

Vs Bleach REPELLED

Vs My Hero Academia REPELLED

Vs One-Punch Man REPELLED

Vs Hunter x Hunter REPELLED

Vs Spy X Family REPELLED

Vs Jojo's Bizarre Adventure (Joestar Family: Joseph, Jotaro, Josuke, Giorno and Jolyne) REPELLED

Vs Winx Club REPELLED

Vs Sailor Moon REPELLED

Vs Sonic the Hedgehog REPELLED

Vs Minecraft REPELLED

Vs World of Warcraft REPELLED

Vs The Legend of Zelda REPELLED

Vs Grand Theft Auto (San Andreas) REPELLED

Vs Mortal Kombat REPELLED

Vs Fortnite REPELLED

Vs Undertale REPELLED

Vs Danganronpa REPELLED

Vs Angry Birds REPELLED

Vs Transformers REPELLED

Vs Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss REPELLED

Vs RWBY REPELLED

Vs She-Ra and the Princesses of Power REPELLED

Vs Steven Universe REPELLED

Vs The Dragon Prince REPELLED

Vs Amphibia REPELLED

Vs Phineas and Ferb REPELLED

Vs How To Train Your Dragon REPELLED

Vs Nimona REPELLED

Vs Avatar The Last Airbender REPELLED

Vs Shrek REPELLED

Vs Puss in Boots REPELLED

Vs Disney (Mickey Mouse) REPELLED

Vs Disney (Donald Duck) REPELLED

Vs Disney (Encanto) REPELLED

Vs Disney (The Lion King) REPELLED

Vs Disney (Elena of Avalor) REPELLED

Vs Disney (High School Musical) REPELLED

Vs Disney (Descendants) REPELLED

Vs Disney (Wish) REPELLED

Vs Bluey REPELLED

Vs Paw Patrol REPELLED

Vs Spongebob Squarepants REPELLED

Vs Rick and Morty REPELLED

Vs The Scorpion King (The Mummy) REPELLED

Vs Black Adam REPELLED

Vs Jumanji REPELLED

Intermission (not a poll)

Vs Loki (Marvel) REPELLED

Vs Percy Jackson REPELLED

Vs Lord of the Rings REPELLED

Vs Jurassic Park/Jurassic World REPELLED

Vs Family Guy REPELLED

Vs Delicious in Dungeon REPELLED

Vs Pokémon REPELLED

Vs South Park REPELLED

Vs Baldur's Gate REPELLED

Vs League of Legends REPELLED

Vs Overwatch [100th battle] REPELLED

Vs Fairy Tail REPELLED

Vs Miraculous (Re-Verse/The Supreme) REPELLED

Vs Miraculous (Re-Verse/Shadybug and Claw Noire ft. Hesperia) REPELLED

Vs Miraculous (Awakening) REPELLED

Vs Yu Yu Hakusho REPELLED

Vs Hokuto No Ken REPELLED

Vs Final Fantasy REPELLED

Vs God Of War REPELLED

Vs Gummy Bear CONQUERED

Vs Dora the Explorer REPELLED

Vs Crazy Frog CONQUERED

Vs Nyan Cat REPELLED

Vs Uncharted REPELLED

Vs Ninjago REPELLED

Vs Kirby REPELLED

Vs Pucca REPELLED

Vs Hello Kitty REPELLED

Vs Ever After High REPELLED

Vs Adventure Time REPELLED

Vs Star vs. The Forces of Evil REPELLED

Vs Robocop REPELLED

Vs Fallout REPELLED

Vs Jujutsu Kaisen REPELLED

Vs Chainsaw Man REPELLED

Vs Mob Psycho 100 REPELLED

Vs Totally Spies! REPELLED

Vs Dofus/Wakfu REPELLED

Vs Kim Possible REPELLED

Season Two part Two here:

Summary here:

Season One

Halloween Special

Trial

Escape Plan

Christmas Special

[adri-2022]

Wherever you go, I go

Fandom: Chicago PD

Characters: Jay Halstead x OC Andrea Halstead / CPD

Warnings: Slight swearing/ fluff

Word count: 1940

Jay Halstead Materlist

A/N: Hi again! Here is a request from the beautiful @andreahalstead24

Don't be afraid to leave your comment!

---------

It had been sudden. Andrea’s undercover phone had rang, Hank Voight’s name on the screen. Then she felt her world fall underneath her feet. Jay had resigned, the details were a blur to her and since she hadn’t been around for a couple of weeks she didn’t know what her husband was battling with or what he had done, until now. She rushed towards their shared apartment hoping to be able to catch Jay before he left. Unfortunately Andrea was met with a silenced apartment and a letter scribbled in a rushed handwriting -Jay’s-. She knew what she had to do, making the decision right then and there she called Hank.

As Jay arrived at the airport with bag on his shoulder and sad expression on his face. He didn’t want to leave but he knew that he had to in order to try and find the man he once was, because now he only was being hunted by the mistake he had made. He had changed, everything had changed but Jay was certain he had to make this work, somehow. He couldn’t lose Andrea, that was a fact and mostly he couldn’t lose himself.

“Jay” the young man stopped as he heard a familiar voice call for him. As he turned he saw his former sergeant standing on the sidewalk. Walking towards the older man,

“I thought you hated long goodbyes” Jay said as he now stood in front of the Hank

“You can have any job you want in the department, Jay” Hank sighed looking at his ex detective. Jay shook his head as he was about to respond, Hank interrupted him.

“I’d make sure of it, but you don’t need me. You’re passed that” Hank continued.

He had to make sure he said everything he needed before Jay was gone and he had to keep his promise to Andrea, that was the least he could do. Hank knew he had dragged the former detective into a rabbit hole, one he couldn’t come back from and the guilt was eating the older man alive.

“Jay. You don’t want to be me-” the older man was interrupted by Jay

“No. It’s worse than that. I do. I do wanna be you- but I mean, is like you always told me. I’m not and I shouldn’t try” Jay said sadly before a cold expression took place on his face, while Hank looked down. They both knew the other was right, it had to happen.

“Jay we all make mistakes” Hank said after a moment of thought

“Still, is not what a signed up for” he answered shaking his head thinking of everything that brought him to this moment. Every mistake, every doubt and all the guilt.

“Hey and that’s on me. Alright” Hank spoke sternly.

Trying to get the younger man to understand that he didn’t need to carry this weight, because it wasn’t his to carry.

“I couldn’t even say goodbye to my wife. I left her a stupid note” Jay said bitterly voice breaking as he tried to fight the tears thinking of not being able to see her one last time. His wedding band feeling heavy on his finger. He imagined the betrayal and the hurt she would feel when she returned to the empty home, knowing he left the same way her father did when she was a kid. He had promised he would never leave her, but look where that got them.

“Jay…” “No sarge. Just, can you do me a favor?” Jay asked now serious -getting tired of the long goodbye- as he look at the older man

“Anything kid” “Take care of her for me, okay” he whispered before extending his hand for Hank to shake.

“I won’t need to” Hank said.

At this Jay’s eyebrows furrowed confused as Hank nodded pass Jay’s shoulder, the latter slowly turning around. Jay’s breath got caught in his throat at the sight of his wife a couple of feet away from the two men. He sighed, smiling sadly which was returned by Andrea with a little wave. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks yet there she was as beautiful as ever, eyes and cheeks puffy from what he could imagine had been crying before arriving here.

“Good luck Jay” Hank’s voice pulled the young former detective’s attention back, shaking hands with the older man before walking towards his wife. As he got closer he let his bag fall to the ground as he carried her off her feet in an embrace, her arms circling his neck.

“Hi baby” she whispered in his ear, as Jay sighed.

“Hey beautiful” he answered as one arm rounded her waist and the other securely tucked her head in his shoulder. Now he would get the chance to make things right with her before taking that flight into the uncertainty.

After a couple of minutes they pulled away Jay safely placing her back on the ground as his hands went to her cheeks. He looked at her with such love yet with so much regret and guilt, that it made her heart squeeze.

His gaze turned slightly falling on Hailey who was inside Andrea’s truck a smile resting on her face as she waved goodbye before driving away. Then down at Andrea’s feet where a bag was laying. Jay almost got whiplash as his head turned to her eyes furrowing his eyebrows.

“Babe what’s going on?” he asked hands still on her face as she smiled

“Did you really think I would let you leave on your own?” she asked beaming at her husband. His eyes flickering around her face trying to figure out if it was a lie.

“You didn’t-” he shook his head, before being interrupted

“If I’m yours, you’ll know you have to let me go’, what kind of Shakespearean bullshit is that Jay Halstead. Were you really not dragging my ass with you?” Andrea asked raising an eyebrow amusingly as she shook her head while Jay chuckled slightly

“I wrote that because I thought I wouldn’t see you before leaving” he said thumb rubbing her cheekbones

“Fine your kind of right. But you know your Spanish sucks, so you need me” she said pecking his cheek pulling away to pick up her bag. She stopped herself when she saw Jay’s face turning serious again.

Too many questions and ‘what’s if’ going through his head and as if she could read his mind she placed both hands on his cheeks directing his gaze to hers. Standing on the tip of her toes she pulled him into a kiss pouring all of the love and compassion she had, placing her forehead on his as they pulled away.

“We made a vow, babe. Wherever you go. I. Go. No exceptions” words cracking as Jay brushed a tear that had managed to escape her beautiful eyes.

“I don’t want to drag you away Andrea-” “Good thing you’re not”

He shook his head with a thin lined smile before pulling her back into his arms digging his nose into her hair, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He wanted to keep the tears at bay, safe to say it wasn’t working. God how much he loved the smell of cinnamon she always managed to have.

She always felt like home to him and he knew that they would always have each other. Pulling away and bending to pick up their bags Jay reached to hold her hand making Andrea intertwined their fingers bringing their joint hands to her lips as she gave a sweet peck on the back of his hand both walking to a new chapter. Together.

It had been a couple of months -4 to be exact-. Andrea was currently in Will’s car on her way to the district. She had returned to Chicago a couple of days ago so she could pack some of hers and Jay’s last stuff that his brother hadn’t had time to send to them and bring it back with her. The trip only lasting 4 days so she would be back at Bolivia in 2 days. Now climbing the stairs to the front desk, she smiled and waved at the older woman who immediately rounded the desk to give her a hug.

“Look at you. You guys been married for 4 years and now you decide to procreate a baby chuckles, huh sunshine” Trudy said amused as Andrea laughed shrugging her shoulders

“Surprise” she shook her hands, while Trudy shook her head scoffing,

“Go on. Their exited to see you” Trudy ushered her up the stairs.

As she got to the top of the stairs she looked around everything seemed the same. Her gaze fell on Jay’s desk and memories started to surface making her smile. The team hadn’t noticed her yet,

“Is this how you welcome me back. I know you guys missed me don’t pretend” at the sound of her voice multiple heads turn and a lot of cheers were shared before the team one by one hugged the former teammate. There were familiar faces and new faces.

“Oh. Andrea this are our new team members. Ashley and, I think you already know Dante” Hailey introduced

“Nice to meet you, Ashley” “Likewise, Detective Halstead. I’ve heard a lot about you from your former partner” -that would be Kim- Andrea smiled at her best friend who smiled back

“Hi Dante”

Andrea said turning to Dante who shared a smile with Andrea while hugging each other slightly. Andrea had only seen him once before she left given that she spend most of the time after his arrival being undercover. Nonetheless Jay had shared a lot about the young man with his wife, plus Dante often calls Jay -they had managed to turn into friends/ mentor-alumni-.

“Look at you!” Kim smiled as she caressed Andreas baby bump, Hailey following suit

“Yeah. I ate a watermelon seed. Guess what Adam used to say it’s true” Andrea giggled as she shrugged her shoulders making the team groan in response,

“Atta girl” Adam giving her a high five in response while the other chuckled

“How are you guys? How is Jay?” Kevin question was met with a beaming Andrea but before she could answer, her phone rang making her laugh before she answered it

“Hey! Look who I ran into” Andrea said as she turned her phone showing the intelligence unit who had video called -their friend-.

“Hey man! Looking good!” Kevin addressed first, followed by other greetings

“I am good. How’s my girl? Is she alright, arrived with all her beautiful self and the precious cargo intact?” Andrea rolled her eyes as the team laughed. After an hour of talking to Jay catching up and sharing events that he had missed it was time to hang up.

“Hey, yo, guys sorry to ruin it but they’re calling me” Jay said waving at his friends

“Be safe, man” Adam said

“Will be. You be careful dumbass. Can I talk to my wife please and thank you” Jay said, as Kevin called Andrea. She started walking into the break room before her face appeared on the screen making Jay beam before winking at her, this being met with her chuckles.

“Be careful, baby” Andrea said sighing

“Always. I’ll be back at the house before you arrive. I love you both!” he said smiling

“I love you too! See you soon” she smiled as he hung up

Gazing out at the bullpen, she looked at the new and old faces. Andrea smiled knowing that no matter how much time went by, this, this right here wouldn’t change.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [4] PAYING THE HIGH COST OF LIVING

Daryl Dixon x oc!charlie reed

Summary: The group is led by new hope, just to understand that it was all an illusion. The group faces one more tragedy.

Warnings: death, dead bodies

Song:

Words: 2,564

Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete...

Living is strange.

...Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Patricia...

Every step taken in this world is shadowed with danger, every decision weighed against the backdrop of uncertainty. There are moments when the weight of it all threatened to crush us, when the pain of loss becomes unbearable and the future seems bleak. In those moments, we are forced to confront our own mortality, to question whether the struggle is worth it.

...Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle...

However dying is even more strange.

...Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob...

Each loss leave behind a void, a silent ache that echo in the depths of the soul. Perhaps, death is simply a doorway—a passage from one existence to the next. The only way to escape the current reality with something greater waiting at the end. Or perhaps, death is the end—the final chapter in the book of life, with no sequel to follow. Perhaps there are no answers, no grand revelations waiting to be unveiled.

...Beth...

"It was secure. It has a wall, homes, 20 people. Beth wanted to go with him," Rick informed the group. "It's a long trip, but if it works out, it's the last long trip we have to make."

"What if nothing is there?" Charlie asked.

"Then we find another place," Rick looked into her eyes.

The world became cruel, drowning in blood and death. Amidst the ruins of civilization, nature had begun to reclaim its territory, weaving a tapestry of life amidst the chaos. As Charlie wandered through this newfound wilderness, she couldn't help but marvel at the resilience of nature. Despite the devastation brought by humanity, the earth had begun to heal itself, slowly but surely reclaiming what had been lost.

But it wasn't just the physical landscape that had changed; it was the very essence of nature itself. In the wake of the apocalypse, the boundaries between the natural world and the supernatural seemed to blur, as if the earth itself had become a living, breathing entity.

"When I was little and I was in my dad's car, there were always those stories on the radio. Something happens 1,000 miles away or down the block. Some kind of horror I couldn't even wrap my head around," Tyreese said. "But he didn't change the channel. He didn't turn it off. To face it. My dad used to all it paying the high cost of living."

"I lost my dad in Atlanta. Still got a mom and a couple of twin brother," confessed Noah. "I hope."

Charlie felt a pang of compassion as she watched Noah, recognizing the pain etched in every line of his face. She knew all too well the pain of losing someone dear, the ache that lingered long after the tears had dried. He was a good kid - still just a kid, who needed someone to rely on.

"I hope so, too," she said.

Noah turned to face her and see a bit better. Tyreese saw that, so he said: "Charlie lost her family in Atlanta, too."

Charlie felt a knot form in his stomach at the mention of his own family, a topic he had long avoided. She hopped that Noah wouldn't ask why or how, as she tried to escape the past. "I'm sorry."

"Mhm," Charlie nodded and dropped her eyes from the boy to the clock. "Two more miles," she said to Rick.

"We'll go on foot," Rick said as they left the car in the middle of nowhere. "Stay off the road."

As Charlie and her companions walked, they came upon a solemn reminder of the world they once knew—a skeleton, its bones picked clean by time and decay. But instead of a symbol of despair, it was a testament to nature's resilience, for upon the skeletal remains, vibrant flowers bloomed, their petals a vivid contrast to the stark white of bone.

Continuing on their journey, they encountered another curious sight—a network of wire spread between the trees like a spider's web, its purpose unclear. But as they came closer, they realized that it was a makeshift barrier, a feeble attempt to ward off unseen dangers lurking in the shadows.

Though the wire served as a stark reminder of the world they now inhabited—a world where survival meant constant vigilance, where danger lurked around every corner. Yet even in the face of adversity, there was a sense of solidarity, a shared determination to press onward despite the odds.

"They have spotters? Snipers?"

"We built a perch on a truck, Sometimes it's out front."

With each step, Charlie felt a sense of purpose stirring within her, a fire ignited by the trials they had overcome and the challenges that lay ahead. For though the path to Shirewilt was fraught with peril, it was also a journey of hope—a journey toward a brighter future, where life could flourish once more in the wake of devastation. As they approached the outskirts of Shirewilt, Noah's pace quickened, his footsteps echoing the rapid beating of his heart. His nerves were palpable, a potent mix of anticipation and fear as he neared the fabled gates of their destination.

Without a word, Noah broke into a run, his determination propelling him forward like a man possessed. The rest of the group exchanged glances, their own apprehension mirrored in their expressions, before following suit, their footsteps falling in line behind Noah's.

As they reached the gates, Noah skidded to a stop, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he surveyed the scene before him. The gates stood tall and imposing, a barrier between the outside world and the sanctuary within.

"You hear that?"

"Just wait," she said. Charlie took off her bow and a gun and handed it to Glenn, who took it without a question.

As Charlie began to climb the wall, her muscles tensed with each upward movement, her fingers gripping the rough surface with determination. With each foothold gained, she could feel the anticipation building within her, the promise of safety.

But as she reached the top and peered over the edge, her heart sank like a stone plunging into the depths. A wave of disappointment washed over Charlie, mingled with a profound sense of sorrow for Noah. She turned to look back at him, her eyes brimming with sadness as she took in his crestfallen expression. In that moment, she felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she had destroyed hope when all along the reality may have been far bleaker.

With a heavy heart, Charlie descended from the wall, her movements slow and deliberate as if weighed down by the weight of their shattered dreams.

With heavy hearts and a sense of resignation, the group ventured to the other side of the wall, their footsteps muted by the somber silence that hung in the air. Burnt-out buildings stood silent, their remains a grim reminder of the horrors that had befallen the city. Among the ruins, they encountered bodies lying motionless in the streets, their eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Some were burned beyond recognition. As they cautiously made their way through the streets, they encountered another threat lurking in the shadows—walkers, their decaying forms drawn to the scent of the living.

"Noah, hold up,"Rick called the boy as he started running mindlessly. "Noah!"

Charlie felt a pang of sorrow as she watched Noah dropping to his knees, sobbing. Everyone knew that his old life was gone with the ashes, and that his family was most certainly gone. She knelt beside him, torn inside about what she should do. Maybe a pat in the back would be enough, as they barely knew each other. But her heart was moving faster than the brain, her arms reaching out to envelop him in a gentle embrace. At first, Noah tensed at her touch, his body rigid with the weight of his grief. But then, slowly, hesitantly, he allowed himself to lean into her embrace, his tears flowing freely as he sought solace in her presence.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You're one of us now."

"We can make a quick sweep," said Glenn looking at her.

"Charlie?" Rick asked.

"I'll stay with him," Tyreese said and placed a hand on her shoulder.

As Charlie walked through the remnants of lives left behind in Shirewilt, a sense of unease gnawed at her conscience. Each item she gathered felt like a silent accusation, a reminder of the lives that had been lost and the pain that lingered in their wake.

She couldn't shake the feeling of intrusion as she rifled through the belongings of those who had once called this place home. Every photograph, every trinket held a story—a memory of laughter and love, now tainted by the death. Beside her, Noah's somber expression mirrored her own conflicted emotions. She could see the pain in his features, the weight of grief bearing down upon him like a heavy burden.

As Rick's words washed over Charlie, a mixture of emotions swirled within her. There was a sense of sadness, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest as she grappled with the reality of their situation. Coming to Shirewilt had been for Beth, he didn't care about Noah - making Rick's admission was a bitter pill to swallow.

Glenn's agreement resonated with Charlie, a reminder that sometimes the hardest decisions were the ones that needed to be made. Charlie felt a knot tighten in her chest—a familiar ache that she had long tried to ignore. The admission that they had come to Shirewilt for Beth's sake brought back a flood of memories, memories that she had buried deep within her mind.

With a trembling breath, Charlie stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.

"I killed my family," Charlie confessed out of nowhere. All three of them looked at her with wide eyes. "I told people Atlanta was safe. You were there because of me...And you all almost died because of me. I let Dale die because he knew the truth. I wanted to be a better person, but then I killed Lori," she said. "And back in the woods, right after prison...I killed a little girl, because she killed her sister and she wanted to kill Judith. I did it because no one else could do that," she choked as tears filled her eyes. "And I just can't live with this in my chest, even if that will take your trust away. I can't die with this being a secret...I don't want to take it to my grave."

As Charlie's confession hung heavy in the air, Glenn stepped forward, his heart brimming with empathy for his friend. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around Charlie, pulling her into a tight embrace. In that moment, words were unnecessary—the warmth of his embrace spoke volumes, a silent gesture of solidarity and support. With a nod of acknowledgment, Rick offered Charlie a reassuring smile, a silent promise that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together. In his eyes, she saw a flicker of hope—a glimmer of possibility amidst the darkness.

And then there was Michonne, her expression unreadable as she observed the scene unfolding before her. "We need to stop. You can be out there too long," she said and for a moment, Charlie felt a pang of uncertainty, wondering what judgment lay behind her eyes. But then, to her surprise, Michonne stepped forward, her usually stoic demeanor softening as she reached out to gently squeeze Charlie's hand. "In this world, trust is all we have to hold onto. It's what binds us together when everything else is falling apart," Her gaze swept over the group, lingering on each member in turn. "So let us trust each other, not just in the moments of triumph, but in the moments of doubt and darkness."

In that moment, Charlie felt a sense of unity wash over them—a shared bond forged in the adversity, a bond that would carry them through whatever trials lay ahead. And as they stood together, united in purpose and resolve, Charlie knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would face them as one.

It was as if the city had been frozen in time, its streets empty of life and its buildings standing as silent sentinels of a world long forgotten. As they moved through, Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of disquiet gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. Shirewilt had been their beacon of hope, their sanctuary in a world gone mad, but now it lay silent and still, its promise of refuge shattered like glass.

"We could start taking down the trees," Michonne broke the silence. "We use them to build the walls up," she said and walked to the opening in the fence.

Michonne tried to persuade Rick to staying in the city. The group could repair what was broken and destroyed, and create a normal life in here. Charlie felt hope in her heart at the thought of abandoning the life on the road when every day was uncertain; however, her heart sank at the sight that greeted them, once they approached destroyed fence. Strewn across the ground outside the barrier lay the remains of bodies—eaten, torn apart by some unseen horror. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the fragility of life in this unforgiving world.

"Oh, God," Charlie placed a hand over her lips not to throw up.

"Washington," Michonne said. "Eugene lied about the cure, but he thought of Washington for a reason."

"He said whatever popped into his head," Charlie said.

"What if he didn't? What if he did the math and thought that the Washington was a place where there'd be a chance," the woman said. "We're 100 miles away. What if there're people? It's a chance. Instead of making it, because right now, this is what making it looks like," she pointed at the bodies. "Don't you want one more day with a chance?"

As Charlie listened to Michonne's impassioned speech about their journey to Washington, a spark of hope ignited within her. In Michonne's words, Charlie found a glimmer of possibility—a beacon of light guiding them through the darkness of uncertainty. It was a promise of a new beginning, a chance to leave behind the trials and tribulations of the past and embrace a future filled with hope and possibility.

"We should go," said Rick looking at the forest and Walkers that were appearing from it. Charlie looked at defeated Michonne, and she also saw the loss of hope in Glenn's eyes. "It's only 100 miles away. We should go to the Washington."

"Rick! Charlie! Help!"

Some may find solace in the idea of death as a natural part of life's cycle, while others may see it as a motivation to live fully in the present moment. But sometimes, the world just stops for some. When life becomes just a moment between living and dying, and you can't really tell where you are. When living is just pain and death is less scary than living.

Living in a new world. World that belonged to the dead and not to the living anymore became too painful sometimes.

...Tyreese.

[chicgeekgirl89]

I Get it From You

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, Lexi Mitchell, OC Cousin Adriana

Rating: K

For @tarlosweeklyprompts Prompt #2: 5+1 of habits that Carlos picked up from TK and 1 that TK got from Carlos. 

A/N: I may have played a little fast and loose with it, but 🤷‍♀️.

Read on AO3

Charm

“I noticed you started wearing this recently,” Andrea says, reaching out to finger the tiny cross hanging around his neck. “It’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says a little numbly, eyes trained on T.K.’s nearly frozen, lifeless form. 

“You’ve never been much of a jewelry person,” Andrea says, her unasked question hanging in the air between them. 

“T.K. wears a medallion around his neck,” he tells her.

“I’ve seen it,” Andrea says. “With his number from New York on it.”

Carlos nods. “He says it reminds him that he’s part of something bigger. That he’s got people to watch his back. That being on that crew probably saved his life, because even when he was…” Carlos hesitates, remembering that his mom doesn’t fully know how deep T.K.’s struggles with addiction have gone. “Even when he was struggling, he knew he had a responsibility to be there and help people. He never takes it off.”

“A good reminder of the support he has, then and now,” she says softly.

Carlos reaches up and brushes his fingers over the cross. “After the fire…everything was just so hard. I felt lost, I was kind of spiraling and one day we were out trying to replace stuff and I saw this and I felt like it kind of called to me. It reminds me where I come from. That I have roots, and a purpose.” He looks up and gives her a wan smile. “That’s probably a less religious answer than you were hoping for.”

She shakes her head, leaning forward to cup his cheek. “It’s a perfect answer.”

Pizza

“Oh my god. What the actual fuck are you doing to that pizza?”

Carlos freezes, pizza halfway to his mouth. “Eating it?” he says in confusion.

Adriana looks at him like he’s crazy. “Eating it? You’re murdering it!”

He looks down to see that he’s mindlessly folded the slice in half. “Mind your own business.”

“Um, you turning a delicious slice of Texas’ finest into that hot mess is my business.”

“How about I eat the pizza I bought and paid for and planned to eat by myself tonight however I want and you shut up?”

“Where did you even learn to do that?” she persists. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“It’s how T.K. eats his. It’s a New York thing. I must have picked it up from him.”

“Well can you send it back where it belongs? You look ridiculous.”

He starts to pull the pizza box away from her but she grabs on. “No! Okay! I’m sorry! You can commit pizza homicide all you want!”

He rolls his eyes and lets the box go. “It was so nice and quiet before you showed up here unannounced.”

“You’re welcome, by the way, for saving you from that sad loneliness. Where’s T.K.?”” Adriana asks around a mouthful of cheese and peppers. 

“He has a shift.”

She nods in understanding. “Down at Hunk-O-Mania. Gotta get his last dances in before you two get hitched. Nobody wants a lap dance from a guy with a ring on his finger.”

“It is unbelievable that you think that joke is still funny after like three years,” Carlos tells her with a glare.

“God he and Magic Mike both hanging up their tear away pants in the same year,” she says with fake wistfulness. “The stripping world is losing two of its greats.”

“Don’t ever show up here uninvited again.”

Schmutz

“God I love this place,” Lexi says as she bites into a donut. “I will admit I thought gourmet donuts were a stupid idea, but I have seen the light.”

Carlos breaks off a piece of his matcha donut and nods in agreement. “Have you had their mocha one? That’s T.K.’s favorite. They had that lavender one too, a couple weeks ago and it blew my mind.”

“I would usually say flowers and donuts do not go together, but after this?” she holds up the orange cream donut that’s half gone already. “I’m willing to try it.”

They end up cramming their remaining donuts down as fast as they can when a call comes in and they have to go break up some fighting parents at a high school basketball game. It’s nasty and several people have to get seen by EMT’s for bloody noses and black eyes, but no one ends up pressing charges, so they head back to the station to do paperwork before their shift ends.

“You’ve got some donut schmutz on your collar,” Carlos tells her when they get inside and the harsh florescent lighting of the station illuminates them both.

She raises an eyebrow. “Some what?”

“Schmutz,” Carlos says. “It’s like…dirt. Mess.” 

“Somebody’s been hanging out with their fiancé too much,” she tells him with a laugh as she reaches for a tissue to wipe off her uniform. “Are you headed home to cook up a brisket tonight too? Going to hail a cab to get you there?”

“Shut up,” Carlos says, feeling his face redden. 

“Are you going to stop smiling at people in the store too? And start cutting people off in traffic?”

“Oh my god stop.”

“T.K.’s east coast ways have rubbed right off on you. I would have thought the Texas blood ran deeper than that. Oh god,” she puts on a fake horrified look, “do you think Chipotle is real Tex-Mex now?”

He shoots her a glare. “Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“I’m teasing Reyes,” she tells him. “I think it’s nice actually. Being with the right person should change you a little. And you and T.K. have changed each other in all the right ways.”

She sends him a smile and starts on the pile on her desk, leaving Carlos to contemplate the warm glow her words have put into his chest.

Team

“Carlitos, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Andrea says when Carlos steps through the front door of his parents’ house.

“No problem,” Carlos says. “Sorry to hear Frankie is sick.”

One of their ranch hands had called out unexpectedly and Carlos was a quick and easy replacement. It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind for his day off, but family duty wasn’t something he ignored if he could help it. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s out back,” Andrea tells him. “I texted him and told him to come up to the house. He’ll be here any minute.”

Carlos shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a peg by the door before turning around to give his mom a hug. Andrea’s face immediately drops and she sighs. “Oh Carlitos.”

“What?” he asks, confused by her bizarre response.

She shakes her head. “You’re wearing a Mets shirt.”

“Yeah, I think T.K. brought it back from New York the last time he went out to see Jonah,” Carlos says, glancing down at the offending blue t-shirt.

“Carlos, you know how your father feels.”

“It’s a shirt Mom. It’s what I had on when you called.”

“You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to change?”

“You made it sound kind of urgent,” Carlos says in annoyance.

The back door opens and Gabriel walks in, a smile on his face. As soon as he catches sight of Carlos he sours immediately. “What are you wearing?”

“A t-shirt that my fiancé gave me,” Carlos says.

Gabriel’s voice goes low, dark like thunder. “In this house we root for the Astros. And only the Astros.”

“It’s a shirt dad. It’s not a big deal,” Carlos says. “T.K. likes when I rep his team.”

“Don’t tell me he’s got you cheering for them too?” Gabriel says, looking outraged. “Oh my god, where did we go wrong?”

“They have some really good pitchers dad. You respect a good team, they’re a good team.”

Gabriel scoffs. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

“I can’t either,” Carlos tells him.

“Enough Gabriel,” Andrea calls from where she’s returned to the kitchen. “He came to help. Leave him alone.”

“What you do in your own home is your business,” Gabriel says tightly, ignoring her. “But I will not allow those colors to be worn in my house.”

Carlos claps him on the shoulder. “Good thing we’re going to be outside then.”

Friends

“Hey babe!” T.K. calls as he walks through their door.

The TV immediately turns off and Carlos whirls around to look at him over the back of the couch, eyes wide and innocent. “Hey,” he says back.

T.K. pauses, eying him closely. Carlos is trying for nonchalant, but T.K. can smell guilt in the air. He sets down his bag and puts his hands on his hips. “What were you just watching Carlos?”

“A documentary,” Carlos says quickly.

“A documentary.”

“Yep.” Carlos pops the “p” in an effort to seem casual.

T.K. dives over the back of the couch and snatches the remote out of his fiancé’s hand, flicking the TV back on. “A documentary about six friends living in New York in the mid-nineties?!” he yells.

“Okay, hear me out,” Carlos says, holding up his hands placatingly.

“You watched without me!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Carlos cries. “I was watching a documentary and then it rolled into the episode when it ended and—“

“You could have turned it off!” T.K. tells him sternly.

“I was going to!” Carlos says. “But T.K., Chandler and Monica?! What the hell?!”

“You said you didn’t even like it,” T.K. points the remote at his chest. “You said it was ‘fine.’ And then you went and betrayed my trust.”

“Well…I got a little invested,” Carlos says sheepishly.

“I’m glad my good taste in television is finally rubbing off on you,” T.K. grumbles. “But next time you decide to watch a pivotal episode of one of America’s greatest sit-coms, you’d better wait for me.”

Dinner

Carlos is so tired he’s not sure he’s going to make it down the hallway. Every part of his body aches to be in bed though, so he trudges onward, one foot in front of the other until he finally fumbles his way through the door. 

He can’t remember the last time a shift was this bad. They hadn’t had a single second to slow down, one call after another, nearly all of them resulting in a physical altercation or take down, and the final call of the day had been a shootout at a bank with multiple casualties. He’s bruised and sore and completely wiped out.

His bag hits the floor and he’s tempted to drop down next to it, but the next thing he knows arms are wrapping around him and T.K. is pulling him tightly into his chest. “Hey,” he breathes into Carlos’ hair. “I was so worried.”

The 126 hadn’t been called into the bank situation, but T.K. must have found out about it from someone because he’d sent multiple concerned texts. Carlos had answered as soon as he could, but there was a big difference between being reassured in a text and being reassured in person.

“I’m okay,” Carlos mumbles into T.K.’s shoulder.

T.K. pulls back and gives him a critical look, fingers brushing over a bruise on Carlos’ forehead and then a minor gash on his arm. “I’m glad you’re home,” he says, a silent acknowledgement that Carlos isn’t actually okay, but he will be now that he’s here.

“Me too,” Carlos sighs. His eyes feel like sandpaper and he desperately wants a shower, but he’s not sure he’ll stay awake long enough.

“Are you hungry?” T.K. asks. “I made dinner.”

“I think I’ll just—“ Carlos stops his response abruptly as he looks at the kitchen. “T.K. what—?”

Every flat surface is covered in pots and pans, cooking utensils, or food. The sink is piled high with dirty dishes and something is still bubbling on the stove.

“I um, I might have been a little anxious waiting for you to get home,” T.K. says sheepishly.

“So you cooked enough for an army?” Carlos asks.

“I’m going to clean it up,” T.K. says quickly. “I know the dirty dishes stress you out, and I planned to have it all done but then the fish took longer than I thought it would and the sauce wouldn’t thicken so…”

Carlos’ brain is still trying to catch up with what he’s seeing. “You don’t usually cook when you’re stressed.”

T.K. shrugs. “I couldn’t sit still so I asked myself, ‘what would Carlos do’? And then I did it. It’s surprisingly effective.” His face softens and he runs a gentle hand over Carlos’ curls. “I can’t fix your day, but I can at least make sure you’re fed. That’s the Reyes Family Motto, right?”

Carlos’ face relaxes into tender smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

[newbornwhumperfly]

@whumpmasinjuly day 19! (list your favorite whump blogs)

@haro-whumps - their villains strike true fear into my heart and i absolutely adore the way they don’t shy away from the harsher, nastier sides of any of their characters (including the heroes), making whump that feels deeply complex and conflicting! i love their broken whumpees and sadistic whumpers and deeply human caretakers so much. galo and the group whumpee family are my first beloved whumpee ocs & ren lives rent free in my head as an all-time scary bastard! your ocs have such distinct personalities and struggles and you find such a way to make every single depiction of fear and anguish utterly unique, so every new whumpee feels fresh and exciting!

@much-ado-about-whumping - my goodness, what a fucking exquisite grasp of prose he has! i fell deeply in love with déomas from the moment i met the poor boy (as well your wonderful boy andreas) and every day am envious and admiring of bel’s skill at portraying complicated survivors! i love how you write aftermath as well, with the non-linear healing and gut-punch of lasting trauma making your whump work so unique to me! and god, if there is a mastery of non-con whump (and the realism and thrill and ache of all requisite traumas) you’ve truly grasped it with both utter sensitivity and delightful darkness (and also a profound rethinking of sexual trauma survivors for me in a very real way).

@whump-tr0pes - god, athena, so many books and every one of them rocked me to my core? your characters fucking challenge me so deeply and i love it, and your master of character development and change and growth and regression and everything is just…beautifully broken and incredible. your writing makes me uncomfortable in the best way possible and at the same time satisfied with every little arc - it’s such a gift!

@whumpthisway - first ever whump blog i followed three years ago, has been both a gateway to excellent creators and is very generous with tagging, something i deeply appreciate!

@whumpzone - cerys, your passion for engaging with your audience really warmed my heart when i started following you and i adore how engaged you made your audience feel to participate in your storytelling! you also have one of my favorite caretakers of all time in the wonderful linden! both your series are beloved rereads forever and ever, both of their storytelling progressing and developing so beautifully to natural endings. it’s so goooood.

@ashintheairlikesnow - a titan of this community, i am overawed by the sprawling scope and detail of her worldbuilding. her writing has reminded me again and again how good stories can be when you let your characters influence the world! your depictions of trauma and institutional abuse have impacted me and my thinking quite a lot, no joke, and you have a scary-good ability to capture banal evil.

@secretwhumplair - has an exquisite ability to capture fear, truly enviable how bone-deep their written terror strikes me!

@whumpster-dumpster - keeps churning out creative and inspiring prompts after all this time, i’ve gotten so many good story ideas from red!

@whumping-every-day - though absent for so long, i still absolutely adore her writing & her vampire whump (ash and callum) is absolutely top of the line in visceral brutality!

@whump-me-all-night-long - has such a good ability to balance casts of characters in her stories (my personal favorite being the jewelry box) with distinctive personalities and a wonderful imagination for new ideas!

@wolfeyedwitch - perhaps my personal favorite at writing superhero/villain whump and has such a great ability to capture the trope of team vs. outsider angst!

just a short list of the blogs that i bow in admiration and delight of every day!!! you all are so incredibly talented & i love you! 💖