#and next thing I know I'm wailing in the corner again

[tonystarkfucksaround]

So... something that I noticed: there’s a direct cut between these two scenes, and Erik’s hand is not where it actually landed on the second shot.

And it just striked me how close he actually was to cupping Charles’ face in that moment, or stroking his cheek, you can see it--

I don’t know if it was a deliberate decision to make Erik move his hand away so as not to make the gesture too intimate, but you know what? Either way it makes it even better. It means that Erik didn’t just hold Charles still, he grasped at him, either stroking his chest or just trying to clutch at him tighter, making sure that he was still there, still alive, and that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t quite dare to touch Charles’ face.

This heartbreaking scene just became a tad more heartbreaking for me, wow.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

a 141 x reader where they realize they did hurt you after 'that thing'?

Ahhh yes I can do this! Thanks for the request!!

I'm getting over a bit of writers block. I hope these are okay!!!

141 + König × Reader Where They Hurt You During Sex

Warnings: mentions of sex, pain, mentions of discomfort, crying and swearing. -ends in fluff

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon had a tough week. He had so much bent up aggression and stress that he was desperate to release. He found you in the shower, and felt his cock hardening in his pants. He was quick to discard his clothes and join you, and not long after, he was taking you from behind as the warm water beat down on his back.

Simon was pounding into you, setting a brutal pace you weren't used to with him. He was never particularly gentle during sex, but he was never aggressive toward you.

Tears sprung in the corners of your eyes, as each time his cock slammed back into you, it sent waves of pain throughout your body. You let out a small wail, and Simon had mistaken it for a sound of pleasure. "That's it, baby."

His grip on your hips tightened, and you let out a scream as the pain began to be unbearable. You choked out a small sob. "Simon! Stop!"

Simon immediately paused his movements, his cock ripping out of you. "Baby? Are you okay?"

You let out a small sob as the pain slightly lessened, but your insides still ached deeply, and the bruises on your hips began to form angrily. You didn't say a word as you just shook your head.

Simon's heart shattered as he quickly turned off the water and ran out of the shower to get a towel.

He came back quickly and wrapped it around you, helping you out of the shower. He pulled you close to him. His grip was tight around you. "I'm so sorry."

You leaned into his chest as you regained your breath and listened to his rapidly beating heart. "It's okay, Si."

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have gone that hard. I took my stress out on you, and I'm sorry." He rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your wet hair.

You pulled away and looked up at him with a small smile. "Simon. It's alright, I promise."

Simon picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently. You gave a playful protest, pushing at his shoulders. "I'm all wet, I'll get the sheets soaked!"

"I'll throw some fresh ones on later. Just let me hold you for a while." He murmured as he moved to lay behind you, pulling you into him. "I promise I won't ever hurt you again."

Johnny MacTavish-

Johnny had wanted to try a new sex position tonight, one he'd stumbled upon in his "research" when he was on missions.

He was on top of you and placed both of your legs on his shoulders as he began to thrust into you. The new position allowed him to go deeper than he'd ever been before, causing quite a bit of discomfort for you. Your legs began to burn from the stretch, and his cock was at angles that had your insides screaming. You let out a strangled cry, pushing on Johnny's chest slightly, and he stopped what he was doing immediately. "Babe?"

He pulled out of you and laid next to you, pulling you into him. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

You sniffled slightly as the pain began to fade, and shoved your head into Johnny's chest. "It's okay."

He enclosed his arms around you and peppered your forehead with kisses. "I'm so sorry, I should've noticed you were in pain."

"I didn't say anything. It's not your fault." You said as you began to thread your fingers through the hair on his chest.

He nodded slowly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me order us takeout, I won't have you cooking for us tonight."

"Johnny, it's really okay. You don't need to, buy." You started before Johnny pressed another kiss to your lips.

"Babe, it's the least I can do. We can gorge ourselves on crappy food while watching that horrible rom com you love so much." He gave a cheeky smile before sliding off the bed to grab his phone.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you Johnny. I love you."

"I love you too, babe. More than you know. Now, be a good pet, and let me make it up to you." He chuckled before dialing your nearest pizza shop.

John Price-

John had you bent over your ass firmly in the air as he forced himself into you from behind. He was eager tonight. It had been a while since the two of you were together, and he hadn't prepped you as well as he should've.

His cock was stretching you uncomfortably, and each time he trusted into you, there was a horrible stinging from your hole.

"J-John." You squeaked, your voice coming out hoarse.

John took it as a sign to keep going, and you let out a loud screech as he picked up his pace. Unable to get any words out, your hand flailed wildly behind you, and John immediately stopped. "Love?"

You let out a sob as he pulled himself out of you, the relief being immediate for you. Your breathing slowed as you regained your senses.

John was quiet, his eyes watching your every move. He felt horrible, his own needs had overshadowed yours, and now you were hurt because of it.

You laid down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest. "C'mere, John."

He shook himself of his self-loathing thoughts and pulled you into his arms, settling himself behind you. "I'm so sorry, baby. I was blinded by my own needs. I didn't think to check on you. Let me make it up to you."

"It's alright, hun." You said softly, hugging onto your husband's arms. "Just hold me and I'll be alright."

John stayed with you like that for hours, rubbing at your flesh softly and peppering kisses to your shoulder. He constantly whispered his apologies, and soft "I love you's" until you both fell asleep cuddled together.

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, John making it very clear he wanted to do what he could to make it up to you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Kyle barely made it through the door before he'd jumped your bones. He'd been away for a week for some training and was beyond desperate for you.

He'd ripped off your clothing and hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his midsection. His kiss was bruising, and needy, a clash of teeth and tongue as he singlehandedly pulled down his pants, freeing his cock.

He'd shoved into you with fervor, pounding up into you, effectively fucking you up into the wall. You cried out as your legs tightened around his waist, egging him on.

He walked toward the couch and laid the two of you down rather harshly, and the back of your head smacked off the wooden arm of the couch. Your hand flew to your head and loud out a small squeal. "Ow!"

"Fuck! Kid, I'm so sorry." Kyle pulled away and crouched down to you to inspect your head. His heart sank as he felt a small bump forming already. "I was going too fast, I should've slowed down."

You looked at him for a moment before erupting in a fit of laughter. Kyle sat confused, watching as your body wracked from your giggles. "Y/N?"

"It's fine! It's fine." You managed to get out through your giggles. "Phew, never had that one happen before."

As you clearly didn't seem to be bothered, Kyle allowed himself to chuckle as well. "Are you sure you're okay? I can go get an ice pack."

"I'm fine, promise. I'd be better if you finished what you started." You threw him an overly dramatic wink and beckoned him closer to you.

And who was Kyle to say no? Not that he didn't insist on icing your head later. (He forced you to sit still for nearly 20 minutes as he iced your head, and pressed a half dozen kisses to your lips as an apology)

König-

You woke up with a wince as you rolled over in bed, your sides aching. You sat up in bed, waking König up next to you. "Go back to sleep, baby. Just going to take a shower."

You peeled your shirt off your body, revealing a slew of bruises lining your hips in the shapes of fingerprints. You hissed slightly as the movement caused your bruises to ache.

This was not missed by König, however, who was watching on from the bed in horror. Was he truly that rough with you?

"M-maus." His voice came out shaky as you turned to him. "I hurt you."

Your heart broke at the sight of him. It was clear he was on the verge of tears, as his bottom lip was quivering slightly. "It's okay, Kö. It looks worse than it is."

"Please, don't lie to me." He begged, approaching you slowly. "I hurt you."

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It truly did look worse than it was, and you wouldn't lie, and say that König wasn't rougher than usual last night.

He got to his knees in front of you and inspected the bruises lining your abdomen. He placed gentle kisses on each bruise before his eyes landed on yours. "Please forgive me, I didn't know I was hurting you."

"König, love, it's truly okay. I'm okay." You gave him a warm smile, but he shook his head. He walked past you and made his way to the bathroom. You could hear the rub running before you heard him call your name.

You walked into the bathroom to find him drawing you a bubble bath. He turned to you with a sad smile. "Water should be warm, climb on in."

He helped you into the water, before crouching down beside you as he watched you settle in the water.

"König, come in. It's alright, I'm not mad at you at all." You gestured to the tub with a warm smile. You knew he was beating himself up.

"I'm mad at myself, Maus." He looked down at his hands in shame. "I promised never to hurt you."

"König, get in here right now before I make you." You chuckled, trying to ease the mood. "Need my giant boyfriend to be a headrest for me."

He blinked a few times before looking up at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Of course."

He was quick to discard his clothes and climbed into the tub behind you, pulling your frame into him gently. "Ich liebe dich so sehr, Engel." (I love you do much, angel)

König spent the rest of the day attached to your hip. He'd insisted on making you a cup of coffee and toast and even went as far as pulling out your chair for you to sit down. He made certain he'd make it up to you, one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ahh not one of my better ones, but I hope you enjoy!🫣🩷

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

hihi!! Can I request Astarion with someone who has ptsd? Maybe him trying to comfort them or something? As someone with it I usually just keep it to myself lol

Hiiiii sorry I took forever to answer this. Sending you virtual hugs alongside this fic, hope it makes you feel just that little bit better. Here's your vampire comforter!

It's kicking in again. The weakness you try so hard to hide from everyone else, afraid of the ostracisation you're sure will follow should they know of it. You feel your throat constrict, wheezing as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. Your vision is a blur, your mind racing and your body is frozen to the spot.

You hate this. The feeling of blood freezing in your veins, the inability to move, to fight back, it makes you feel completely helpless and being completely helpless is never a good thing. Your heart hammers in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you struggle to put one foot in front of the other. Your throat is dry, flashbacks tearing your mind apart and you barely feel your body tip forward but something, no someone, catches you before you hit the ground.

"Falling for me again, darling?" His honeyed words are muffled, ringing in your ears. Your skin prickles where he touched you and you pull away quickly, curling into a tight ball. Clapping your hands over your ears, you try to drown out the voices, whimpering hoarsely and suddenly, your throat seizes up. Your lungs scream for air but no matter how fast you breathe, no air makes its way into them.

You're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die.

"Darling, focus on my voice. Find me, like you always do." A quiet gentle voice cuts through the haze, reaching out to you from beyond the veil. You strain your ears to pinpoint where it's coming from, the voice familiar.

Astarion.

That singular thought drives you forwards, grasping in the direction of his voice.

"That's it, darling. That's it. Keep going, you're almost there. Don't forget to breathe, you still need that air." His voice is strangely comforting, even with all the teasing. With an unusual gentleness, he guides your breathing, whispering reassurances into your ear.

"I'm right here, darling. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you alone to face this."

When your vision swims back into focus, it's just you and him. You're huddled on the ground, knees pressing against your chest while he sits on said ground next to you. His eyes are filled with concern, a hand resting on your back.

"Darling?" Astarion murmurs.

"Star —" You rasp, devolving into a fit of coughing. He panics for a moment, fumbling for a flask of water in his bag and thrusts the flask into your shaking hands. You struggle to open the flask, still trying to calm yourself down and Astarion leans over, opening the flask for you. All snark is gone, replaced by genuine worry and seriousness as he watches you gulp the water down.

Once the flask is empty, he holds out a hand and you place the flask in it. He puts the flask down and holds his hand out again.

"Take my hand when you're comfortable," he says softly, and silence falls over the both of you. You slowly reach over, feeling his cold fingers gently curl around your hand and tug you towards him. Wordlessly, you sink into his embrace, feeling the tears start to prick the corners of your eyes.

Astarion tentatively wraps his arms around you, relaxing only when you press against him. He buries his face into your hair, hugging you tightly and traces random patterns on your skin. You bite back the tears, gripping his arm but a whimper still escapes your lips anyways and you feel your vampire lover curl around you, gentle kisses pressed against your head.

"It's alright, no one else is here. Let it all out."

His words are enough to burst the dam and you find yourself crying into his chest, clutching at his shirt as each wail tears your body apart. You've never allowed yourself to cry like this before, but this feels…cathartic, and knowing that your lover is right there for you to lean on only serves to comfort you further. Your tears stain his pristine shirt and you babble an apology, voice thick from crying but he hushes you, stroking your hair in an attempt to comfort you.

He holds you close, a hand resting on the back of your head as the last of your cries fade into sniffles, gently rocking you as he hums a lullaby he thought he'd long forgotten. The lullaby's words are lost to him, but the tune alone helps you calm down, and when you next look up at him with puffy eyes, he smiles at you softly.

"Feeling better, darling?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with a fondness you never knew he had in him. He gently wipes away the tears that have fallen, cradling your cheeks in his hands and presses his forehead against yours. You reach up to rest your hands on his, basking in the quiet comfort of your vampire lover.

"Yeah," you croak out. "Feeling better."

He nuzzles you and you lean in, inhaling the familiar scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close. You feel him rest his head on top of yours, and the both of you simply stay like this, embracing each other until the sun dips beneath the horizon and the stars come out.

"Stay a little longer, please?" You whisper, feeling him shift.

"Of course, darling," he whispers back. You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at his words. He wasn't going to leave you, he didn't see you as a burden, he was choosing to remain by your side.

Letting out a deep breath, you look up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "thank you."

"Anything for you, love," he purrs.

"I mean it. Thank you for not abandoning me, for staying with me through all…this, for…for everything really." Your words catch him off guard and the tips of his ears turn red. He huffs, trying to pretend that your words didn't affect him and gives you a peck on the top of your head.

"I'm only doing this because you did it for me," he mutters, hiding his face from you.

"Doesn't mean I can't thank you," you chuckle, brushing his silvery white locks aside so you have an unobstructed view of his face. He lets you catch a glimpse of his shy smile, fangs peeking out and you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you."

He blinks, startled at your confession and splutters, struggling to find a suitable response. You simply smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze and his cheeks flush, but he returns the gesture and continues holding onto your hand tightly afterwards, refusing to let go.

The both of you may be broken, shattered by the past but it doesn't mean you can't try to put the pieces back together, with each other's help. The scars will forever remain, but they don't have to define either of you, they don't have to control your lives, and they don't have to separate you from him.

You know that no matter what, he will stay by your side, even on the bleakest of days, on the days where your past tears you apart, and you vow to do the same for him. As you walk back to camp holding his hand, you make that silent promise and unbeknownst to you, he makes the exact same promise. He won't ever let you feel like a burden, you won't ever let him feel alone. He won't ever leave your side, you won't ever let him fight alone.

He will love you with everything he has, and you will love him with every breath you take until the end of days.

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Let's Have a Baby 2.0

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

Simon Riley did not cry when his first daughter was born.

He didn’t know how to process his grief amid his love’s agony and emptiness. She spent days on end, curled into the plush rocker in the corner of the empty nursery or lying flat on her back, staring at the white ceiling. His guilt was no match for her shame – as she clutched the tiny hospital blanket to her chest, sobbing that she couldn’t name her. Couldn’t name the daughter that they didn’t get to bring home.

Her wails – I’m sorry I’m weak, Please don’t hate me, I'm fucking useless – echoed in Simon’s mind when he named that baby. He knew, in his heart, that Freyja loved her with her entire being, everything she had. He knew that, if she could, she would have picked the most beautiful name, better than anything he could have come up with on his own. So he named her after his wife, so his daughter would never leave his mind.

When Joan Vanadís was born, Simon stared at her for hours. He memorized every detail of her soft features, inhaled her scent, and poured over her deep brown eyes and button nose. His wife barely got to hold her in her first day of life. Sure, he had cried, as many fathers do in the delivery room. He was completely unsure of how it was possible that he helped create this beautiful, innocent little person.

But his son, oh his son, was an entirely different animal.

Where Joanie came roaring into the world, Arthur Simon was quiet. Quiet like his father, but the spitting image of his mum, minus Simon’s curved nose (Poor thing, he thought). The gentle cry from such a delicate thing broke whatever terrified stupor he’d been in since learning that they were having a boy. The doctor placed the blue bundle on his wife’s chest, and he instantly broke down. The ‘big bad Ghost’ was a blubbering mess as their son’s small hand curled into her skin, his eyes closed, and his mouth curled into a frown. He hesitated, hand hovering over the boy until Freyja’s came and pressed his palm into the tiny body, much smaller than Joanie’s when she was born. The steady rhythm of Arthur’s little lungs working underneath his fingertips made something inside his chest snap and crumble into dust.

Whatever fear he had about having a son was gone. As he had promised their daughters, he again swore that he would be better. Better than his father. He promised he would raise Arthur the way he should have been.

In the months that followed, taking care of his son healed a piece of Simon Riley. A piece that needed the father he had fought so hard to be.

The newborn seemed to have that effect on people, particularly overgrown men.

Arthur’s godfathers and grandfather returned to England about three months after he was born. Johnny brought his partners by the second they stepped off the plane, not even offering time to dress down in civilian clothes.

König was the first in the house, carrying his and Roach’s duffels as Johnny snuck in a moment alone with their partner outside. Freyja appeared, almost making him jump out of his skin at her sudden appearance.

“Herrgott, Kapitän!” he cried, hand on his pounding heart. “You scared me.”

Freyja had Artie strapped to her chest, sucking happily on his pacifier as he stared up at her face. He was already a certifiable mama’s boy, always enamored with her and clinging to her at every waking moment (and then some). “Oh, thank god,” she sighed, unraveling the fabric from her waist and shoulders. “I need a nap.”

His eyes blew wide through the holes of his hood, and he quickly stepped back. “Nein, Freyja, ich will ihn erschrecken—”

“König, nimm deinen Patensohn.” She didn’t allow him any time to hesitate, pressing the baby against his chest. The Austrian immediately dropped the bags from his shoulders, wrapped one arm under the baby’s bum, and rested one large hand against his back.

“Freyja–!”

She was gone.

König desperately wanted to give him back. He couldn’t take the heartbreak of another kid, especially his own nephew, staring at him with pure terror, trying to get away to safety. But this child, a sweet thing, had easily and without hesitation reached for him when Freyja moved to hand him off. It was as if he already sensed that his mom would never hand him off to someone that didn’t have her full trust.

He had gotten used to Joan by that point, but she was almost a year old when he saw her last. And she was much bigger than the infant boy in his arms, done up in an (admittedly) adorable, light blue onesie, with stripes nearly resembling those of the Scotland flag (Soap most definitely bought it for that reason and that reason alone). What if he dropped him? What if he held him too tight? What if he moved and hit Arthur’s head on something? What if–

A small tug caught his attention, his mask shifting downward. König glanced down at the boy curiously pulling the thing toward his mouth, which he put a stop to. “Iss das nicht, welpe. Du weißt nicht, wo es war,” he whispered, using a finger to nudge Arthur’s fist away from his mouth.

They simply stared at each other, the man holding the baby’s gaze, surprised that the little one was tolerating it. Then in a shocking turn of events, Art jerked the fabric up and over his head, making cooing and gurgling sounds that resembled an attempt at a laugh. Both under the hood now, König froze for a moment, completely and utterly bewildered. No grown adult, let alone an infant, had ever warmed up to the giant so quickly, immediately. Artie made another noise, and beyond his control, tears started to flow freely down his paint-smudged cheeks, a huge smile lighting up their dark cavern.

As König sobbed and shook, he pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, trembling body clinging to his godson like a lifeline.

König didn’t know how long he stood there with gentle but clumsy hands palming his scars and features, reveling in the attention. He never wanted it to end. He didn’t fail to notice what felt like Ghost’s hand on his opposite shoulder, brief but definitely present; then, the familiar press of Johnny’s cheek between his shoulder blades and the imprint of his firm hands on his hips.

Yeah, you could say Arthur Simon had a gift for healing.

.

.

.

“Uh oh, Dada!”

Freyja chuckled at her husband’s exasperated expression, staring at the ceiling as the plastic cup bounced across the floor. Simon had spent the last ten minutes trying to slice up an orange for Joan, who, in that time, had thrown the loose cereal onto the floor, tossed her plastic fork across the room, and finally dumped the cup of water into his lap.

“Yeah, uh oh,” he sighed, bending to pick up the cup but not bothering with his now-soaked pants. “Lovie, I’m almost done. You have to be patient. We don’t throw things.”

“No!”

“Look, Joanie, here.” Simon broke a wedge off and held it out for her. Two little hands took the fruit, holding the rind as Joan gummed at the soft flesh. “Can you say, ‘Thank you, Daddy’?”

“No!”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Arthur rested quietly in his mother’s arms with his cheek pressed against her breast as he dozed after finishing a bottle. Some mothers would have found Arthur’s level of attachment overwhelming; he rarely wanted to be put down, oftentimes crying out for her even when handed off to Simon. Similar to how Joanie gravitated to her father, Artie clung to her, and Freyja took pride in that.

When she looked up from her son, she found Simon had stripped out of his soiled sweatpants and now sat in only black boxer briefs. It was an unusually lazy day due to the poor weather outside. Simon got the kids up and fed at the usual time but didn’t do much to dress them, opting for fresh onesies. Joan’s was a dark navy, while Art’s was cream with mini tan teddy bears.

Joanie finished the orange slice quickly and placed the rind on her plate. She balled one hand into a fist and slapped the top with an open palm in a jerky movement. “Dada, more.”

“That’s right, ‘more’,” he praised, mimicking the sign for her. “Good job asking. Here.”

He placed the rest of her snack on the tray, and she immediately started nibbling at one. Simon leaned forward with his forearm on his knee, getting to eye level with the girl. “I’d really like an orange. Could you share with Daddy, lovie?” he asked while offering a hand. They had quickly learned to keep her hands occupied and practice hand-eye coordination in constructive ways, rather than letting her get bored. That was when she tended to start throwing things, as demonstrated by Simon’s now discarded pants.

She seemed to consider it, before dropping the piece she had already half finished in his palm and grabbing another.

“I meant one that wasn’t half-eaten, but this’ll do. Thank you.” He met Freyja’s eyes, his cheeks tight with laughter as he finished the fruit. 

The rain thundered against the glass windows, filling the space behind Joanie’s giggles at the funny faces Simon made. Her clothed feet kicked the legs of her chair. It was there – in their kitchen on a rainy Tuesday afternoon – Freyja realized just how content she was with the life they had built together. Observing her husband as he wiped the sticky juices dribbling down their daughter’s chin and pushed her blonde curls back; her touch brushing their son’s warm, squishy cheek with her thumb.

She soaked in the atmosphere a moment longer before speaking. “Simon?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I think Artie’s my last.” Her voice was quiet, almost unsure. They’d never really discussed just how many kids they wanted. Against his initial fears, Simon was a natural; he was just as much in his element taking care of their kids as he was on the battlefield. She didn’t want to take that away if he wanted more, but she honestly couldn’t go through it again. Recovering from a c-section royally sucked, but giving birth naturally was not an option.

Simon’s brows pinched together as he swiveled away from Joanie, searching her face. He watched how her careful fingers stroked Arthur’s face, her other hand wrapped around the baby’s thigh to secure him to her. Her touch slid down to his chest, measuring his tiny heartbeat and steady breaths. He often did the same with both of their children; the gesture grounded him in their reality, and he figured it did the same for her. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll call for an appointment to get snipped.”

He said it as if he were talking about grabbing a takeaway on his way home from work, which gave Freyja a slight shock.

“Just like that?” she asked, turning in her chair to face him better. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve given me three beautiful babies,” Simon cooed, reaching to drag his large hands up and down her thighs. Freyja melted into his touch, legs spreading so his knee could slot between hers. “S’the least I can do. If you’re done, so am I. I had a feeling, anyway.”

“A vasectomy just seems a bit extreme. Maybe we can just use condoms?”

He raised a brow at her with an upside-down grin, challenging her. “Do you wanna try that again, with feeling? Look me in the eye and tell me you’re never gonna let me cum in you, ever again?”

“...Birth control?”

“Remind me, how did we have our daughters?”

“I hate you.”

“But I’m right.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Still right, though.” Simon rose from the table and leaned over her, resting his weight on one hand next to her thigh. He slipped the other around the back of her neck and tilted her head up, stealing a long, slow kiss. He muttered, “I’ll go next week,” against her lips before resuming, tongue gently prodding her bottom lip.

Freyja broke away and glanced up at him through her lashes with a teasing look. “You sure you can last that long without sex?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz shipped out to replace the other half of the task force a few days later. They were only gone for two weeks, executing the final excursion to retrieve a stolen weapons cache. König, Roche, and Price had done most of the leg work but decided that the sergeants and lieutenant were better equipped for the situation at hand. 

Johnny’s demolition expertise certainly came in handy this time around.

Still, Simon was sore and aching for the comfort of holding his kids and wife after what felt like the longest two weeks of his life. It was their first time leaving both babies with the other parent since Arthur was born.

Unlike his last time returning from a mission, the house was quiet, which allowed him time to take his boots off at the door and shed his mask. König’s car was parked in their driveway, leading him to believe the operative was spending the night in their guest room. Whether Roach was there too, he didn’t know.

The hall light at the top of the stairs flicked on, and Freyja appeared in a silky nightgown, standing on the last step with a tired smile and messy hair.

Simon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hummed while his eyes roamed her body with a dopey smile.

“Welcome back,” she whispered, locking her fingers behind his neck to tilt his head back, giving him access to slot their lips together. Freyja moaned quietly at the firm hands on her hips and thighs, gripping and digging into the soft flesh. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged and pressed another chaste kiss to her lips, humming against them. “No snags. Soap got to blow stuff up.” Simon’s mouth trailed down her jaw, throat, and chest, gentle and loving.

Her fingertips brushed a gash on his cheek. Most likely from shrapnel, if its depth and jagged edges were any indicators.

“M’fine, love.”

“Joanie’s out cold, but Artie’s awake if you wanna see him. I just finished feeding him.”

That woke him up a little bit. A soft breath of air tickled the wet spots on Freyja’s skin from his silent chuckle. Simon’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he nuzzled his face in her chest as he soaked in her presence. They’d gone more extended periods without seeing each other, but whether they were apart for a week or a few months, he still missed her like crazy.

“She doing better in her room?”

“Much. She’s having some nightmares but goes back down eventually. She’s having a good night.”

“Mmm, in that case, I won’t wake her. We can surprise her in the mornin’.”

When Freyja turned to lead him upstairs, he couldn’t help himself as his hand swung up and connected with her ass, a sharp CRACK! resonating through the air.

“Simon!”

“M’sorry, couldn’t help it. You left yourself wide open on that one,” he teased, his voice low to not wake their daughter or guests. As expected, Arthur’s quiet coos reached his ears the closer they got to their bedroom. Simon dropped his gear by their bedroom door and approached the bassinet on Freyja’s side of the bed. The little boy stared in his general direction, wiggling like a (precious) worm.

The man beamed down at him and carefully slid his hands under Artie’s back with his thumbs hooked under the infant’s arms, lifting him out of the crib. “Hi, beautiful boy,” he mumbled, pressing his pursed lips against his cheek, leaving multiple kisses in the same spot. He held his son back out for a moment, a confused expression on his face once he pulled away.

“Where’d it go?”

Freyja shifted to her knees on their bed and rested her chin on his shoulder, peering down at their son. “What?”

“The baby scrunch.”

“Huh. You’re right. I didn’t even notice.”

“I just…last time I held him, he still curled up. I missed it,” he said, a grown man literally pouting.

“I know…” She let her hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest. “I’m sorry, Si. I know it sucks. Being away comes with the job, and that means we miss things. We’ve been lucky so far with Joanie, honestly.”

Arthur had quieted down, sucking his pacifier as he studied Simon’s painted face and clinging to his shirt.

A knock at the doorframe caught their attention, and all three turned to the source. König rubbed the sleep from his eyes, bare feet padding across the carpet until he reached them. “Hello, Lieutenant. Did the operation bode well?”

“Yeah, everything was just as you said it – was…”

The baby had started to whine again and let go of his dad, reaching for his uncle with grabby hands. The man’s face flushed, but he didn’t make a move to take the baby. Once the shock wore off, Simon took the initiative to hand Art off, and König gladly received him.

He immediately settled again, laying his head back in the crook of König’s elbow, humming softly against his pacifier. “Hallo, welpe,” he said in a hushed tone, rocking his nephew gently.

“Well, that’s new,” Simon grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed to avoid awkwardly standing there. Simon wasn’t too annoyed, but he was somewhat sad. He had missed his babies dearly and looked forward to some serious attention. But his usually shy baby, who never wanted to be handed off to anyone besides his mother and occasionally Simon, was suddenly choosing their friend over him.

How much had he missed in such a short amount of time?

“I apologize, sir. I am as surprised as you are. He’s a good boy; I think we have been around so much the last two weeks…”

“König.”

“Ja?”

“Drop the sir. We’re not on base. I’m not mad.”

König blinked at him, confused. “It’s… Scheiße, wie sagt man ‘gebräuchlich’ auf Englisch? Ich weiß es nicht. It is normal to use sir where I’m from.”

Simon glared back. “And this is my house. You’ve done as my wife has said to gain my son’s affection. So now, you will do what I say to get back in my good graces after robbing me of my child. Are we clear?”

“I feel…bad. Please, take him back–”

He shook his head and stood again, scratching at the light stubble that had formed on his cheeks over the last few days. “And I’m telling you, no. It’s fine. I have to shower anyway.”

“Alles klar.”

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[darkest-depravity]

Two Forms of Desperation

I'd love to keep you in a chastity cage for weeks, and tease you every single day. You're a kept woman, of course, but that doesn't mean the teasing needs to stop when I go to work. I'll leave you with a remote vibe inside your cage and a plug in your ass and steadily edge you all day, every day. You'd better not fucking fall behind on your housework because of this. But you're such a good girl, and I know that you fear me even more than you want me, so you don't.

I'll watch you deteriorate as a human being. Watch you debase yourself, so frantically desperate for any kind of release. Watch you devolve into wrenching sobs as you cling to my feet, not daring to glance up at me for fear of meeting my cold eyes, indifferent to your suffering.

Then, one day, you're doing dishes. Your whole face feels puffy and tight from crying, but still, the tears flow down your cheeks as the pain in your cage remains unbearable. You look so broken. That's when I decide to take you. I grab a fistful of your hair and drag you to the living room, throwing your body to the ground and your face into the carpet. You feel an overwhelming surge of relief as I unlock the cage, and all you can do is whimper, "Thank you, Goddess" over and over in a frail, choked little voice. I don't start slow. I fuck you harder than I've ever fucked you before. I keep the vibe on you and turn up the intensity to its maximum. The effect is instantaneous. The most incredible orgasm you've ever experienced in your worthless little life and fresh tears of joy stream down your face as you're completely overcome with pleasure the likes of which you never could have even imagined.

But then I don't stop. I slow down and lower the vibration just enough for your body to recover between orgasms, then ramp it up to maximum again. Over and over, shuddering tidal waves of pleasure burst through your entire being. Your body convulses and you feel like every single one of your muscles is spasming out of control. It's too much. It's too much. Soon, each wave begins to decline in pleasure and the sensation shifts to pain. It hurts now. Every thrust sends a stabbing pain through your body, and every orgasm depletes you more and more of energy you didn't even think you had left. You beg me to stop. I ignore you. You scream and wail and cry and beg and feel as though your body is being torn apart. All of your senses seem to blacken and some instinct drives you to get away, to please make it stop, but I'm just so much stronger than you and I've already left you so weak. I hold you down and push your face into the floor, then fuck you even harder. Somewhere in the only minute rational corner of your mind you have left, you wonder how I could possibly be fucking you harder than I was before.

This goes on for what feels like hours. What began as heaven has twisted into hell. Eventually, your screaming ceases and you become silent, accepting the piercing pain that rips through your body with each thrust. This is what penetration feels like. You forget who you are. You become an unthinking husk.

Finally, I stop.

I collapse on the floor next to you, pulling your small, violently trembling body into mine, and kiss your neck so softly. I stroke your nipples and caress every inch of your round softness so gently. I tell you over and over how perfect you are, how wonderfully you did, and how much I love you. I know you're not strong enough to stand, so I lift you up in a bridal carry and take you to the bed. I make you drink water and I cook you your favorite meal. We watch one of your comfort movies as you melt into my arms and freshly sob. I coo reassurances and stroke your hair, and you cling to me so tight that your knuckles turn pale. Finally, mercifully, the emotion slowly subsides and you drift off into the heaviest and most restful sleep you've ever had.

When you wake up the next morning, you find two things: a plate of breakfast and a hot cup of coffee on the nightstand made just how you like it, and the chastity belt locked around your waist.

[neptunescore]

Princess Cake, Letter

Prompt word: Letter | Pairing: Princess Cake

Jenson hadn't been in when the letter had been delivered to his house. He’d come home from a lovely dinner with Mark, stripped down to his boxers, brushed his teeth and then slept like the dead.

The driver had woken up the next day, none the wiser to what was in his post, and had gone about his morning routine lazily; eating breakfast and doing the daily house chores before — finally — deciding to step out and check his mailbox for any new envelopes.

He should’ve known. He should’ve realised immediately, should’ve recognised the letter was from him, he’d always ripped the corners of any sort of paper he had his hands on, always left those tiny (almost unnoticeable) tears at the edges. Jenson hadn’t known, though. He hadn’t looked.

He hadn’t looked.

He’d opened the envelope casually, had licked the tip of his index finger and unfolded the paper as if it were any normal mail. And then—

Jenson doesn’t quite remember what had happened, had only come back to himself while he was booking the flight; his phone in his left hand while his right one haphazardly stuffed an assortment of random clothes into his suitcase.

The letter had been direct, straight to the point — an address, a plea for his presence, and a signature at the end.

What an idiot, Jenson had chuckled softly to himself later in the plane, who the hell signs a letter like that.

Then again, Nico was always pulling shit like this — desperate to remain formal, to have any feel of normalcy he could when things went awry.

His smile had dropped quickly after that thought.

He’s standing outside the hotel room door now, hand knocking incessantly against the dark wood as his foot taps against the tiled floor impatiently, “Nico!”

“Nico, I swear to God if you don’t open this door right now! Nic-”

“Jense.” A sob. A squeak as the door opens.

Nico’s finally in clear view of him; trembling hands holding the handle, his body drowning in an oversized hoodie, hair mussed up as if he’d run his fingers through them repeatedly, and he's crying. He's crying.

Jenson lets go of his suitcase, immediately pulling Nico forward, wrapping up the man in his embrace and pushing the other’s tear stained face into his chest.

“Nico- sweetheart, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Jense. Jense-” A wail this time.

Jenson could feel his heart breaking, his thoughts frantic as he pulled Nico even closer, panicked fingers reaching up to hold the blonde’s soft face.

“Love. love, tell me what’s wrong, please,” he caresses the wet skin beneath his thumb,”Nico, please. Tell me what’s wrong, I’m here now, I'm here. I’ll fix it, I promise”

“I don’t know what to do-” hitched breaths, “I lost my phone, and I can’t remember what to do and he left me all alone, Jense! He left me, and I want to go home!”

Oh. Oh.

Jenson let his body fall still, let Nico bury himself back into his chest as the taller man sighed in relief. He could fix this. It was okay.

“Oh, love. It’s okay. Let’s go home, yeah?”

His hold around Nico tightened as he felt the blue-eyed man relax against him. Jenson could already feel the brief sense of ease that had filled him fading away as a seething rage grew in its place.

Lewis.

Lewis would pay for this.

I love princess cake so much, so seeing this request in my inbox had me GUSHING🤭 Hopefully, you had just a good time reading this as I had writing it💗 Also, I listened to 'Tere Mere (from "Chef")' while writing this, and it made me realise that the songs I play genuinely have an effect on what I write😭 (you'll get it if u listen to the song)

As always, credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers♡

Rules and details☆°•~

[sgiandubh]

Is that it? Is this the end of OL? The cast, crew, and showrunners seem to have moved on (except for the promo). And if it is the end, CB not acknowledging it is strange.

Dear The End Anon,

Well, it really depends on what you actually mean by 'the end of OL', isn't it?

Last week brought just the end of the shooting of the final season. Nothing less, but also nothing more. Call me an idiot if you will, but I can't, for the life of me, understand the Wailing Circus about 'OMG, it's over, I'm not crying, you're crying', etc. It's been a year everyone knows Season 8 will be the last one and also that things could have very well ended with Season 7B, were it not for S's insistence that the show needed 'a proper ending'. Seeing grown-up women getting all shellshocked for literally nothing was, I have to admit, a most unwelcome surprise to me. I mean, seriously now, how old are they and why all this artificial drama?

I have also noticed the more nervous side was just across the street. The flurry of half mental Anons sent to shippers' inboxes by what apparently is the same Lame Troll tells me that there is some serious kerfuffle among them. And how could it be otherwise, since the habitual points of talk (Tait, papers, lovelovelove - seriously LOL- and shippers are pathetic imbeciles) start to wear off. I mean, how many times can you parrot those same ten lines, before realizing your own voice starts to sound very, very unconvincing, after all?

As for the cast, crew and showrunners moving on, I beg to differ. Saying good-bye to ten years of someone's life is never a mechanical process. And the protracted promo calendar will certainly fuel the embers of illusion for a while. There are still dedicated cons being organized by fans, such as the French Landcon coming full circle in Edinburgh, next September. And we just know some of the side players will always be interested in being involved in any OL-related event which could bring the cashola in. Duncan Lacroix, who seems to be a fixture, comes to mind (zero work since Murtagh died for good). Or the very foolish McTavish Danube luxury cruise, OL cat ladies and Gabaldon bigots only need to apply. As far as I know, clinging on to something is just the opposite of moving on, don't you think?

But have no fear, Anon. Promo time for 7B is near and along with it, the same old, same old speculation, carefully choreographed slippage and skirmishes. This dynamic is likely to linger on, for a good while still, albeit with less and less juicy bones thrown in for consumption. But you know what, in the great scheme of things, where all the corners of this fandom seem firmly set on their positions, it doesn't really matter. The only diversions are brought in by The Mourners, always at the ready.

As for C not acknowledging the end of shooting, I'd venture telling you this is her PR problem, not mine/yours, for what it's worth. Is it something proper to do? Probably not and it always amazes me how her Stans are still not realizing she doesn't (really, really) give a flying fuck about their OTT, kitschy and immature homage.

But here is another thing that made me go hmmm, Anon:

When and where did the rest of her bio go? I am unable to tell you, but why doesn't she introduce herself as an 'actress' anymore?

Could be nothing. But then, again, it could be something to take note of. Dots always end up connecting, in here, anyways.

[weministertomonsters]

M Werefox (Harcourt) x F reader - 1

➤ Pairing - M werefox x F reader ➤ Wordcount 1.9k

A lovely reader on Patreon liked Harcourt and asked about a Part 2 for this story and of course I said yes! I had to rewrite Part 1 though, so here it is! Part 2 is coming soon as well.

I don't think I've ever posted this to Tumblr because this story was from my glory days on Wattpad before my book got deleted. (If you’re reading this on Wattpad, maybe you remember it? Idk)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's your twelfth birthday and the sun is shining and your friends are due to arrive in an hour for your little party. Suddenly you hear your mother yelling outside.

"Shoo! Out, out!"

You scamper into the backyard to see what the fuss is about and find her chasing the scrawniest werefox kit you've ever seen away from the chicken coop. He's got egg yolk clinging to his chin, an undeniable sign of his theft. His black-tipped ears pin to his head as he deftly dodges the dishcloth your mother is wielding and leaps over the backyard fence, disappearing into the brush.

"I've heard all about him from Pansy down the street. She says she's also missing eggs now and then," your mother says, putting her hands on her hips and blowing her hair out of her eyes.

"But Ma!" You wail, "he's hungry! Did you see how thin he was?"

Your mother pats your head. "He's different from us, darling. Those creatures are half wild. I'm sure there's plenty of things in the forest for him to hunt."

"But he's so small," you reply anxiously. "Not much bigger than me. Maybe he can't catch anything."

"How did he even get in?" Your mother murmurs, checking the latch on the coop, and then tutting in dismay as she sees the side of the coop, where the kit has scratched and chewed through the thin wood planks, making a hole to squeeze through.

"Oh dear. This is going to take a while to fix," your mother sighs and peeks into the coop. "And now I'm a few eggs short for your cake. At least he didn't go after the chickens."

You hardly care about your cake now. "If he comes again, can we keep him?"

Your mother purses her lips together in the way she does when you ask her a question she doesn't know how to answer.

"He might be wild, but he's not an animal," your mother finally replies. "He'll grow just as big as you, and you can't keep him as a pet."

"Why not?" You whine. "He doesn't have a mommy or a daddy, does he? He's all alone."

"You don't know that, darling," your mother says.

"Pleaseee?" You hop from one foot to another and stare up at your mother with pleading eyes.

She smiles, but she doesn't say yes. "My soft-hearted girl," she says and hugs you. "Come, let's see if we can still put together something sweet for your birthday."

You pout for the rest of the week, but she doesn't budge, like any sensible mother. The little werefox has to have a den nearby and you hope the next time you see him, you can follow him to it. The next Saturday your mother is visiting the Pansy down the street with some soup for her sick son. You're alone at home, swinging in the backyard and trying to see how high you can go. Your stomach swoops as the swing brings you down, and just then you see a flash of russet through the corner of your eye.

The werefox boy sits down and pries at the planks on the newly repaired coop, bracing one hindfoot on the wall as he begins to pull. He's stronger than he looks, and you hear the wood beginning to splinter. You leap out of the swing and misjudge your timing, crashing onto your knees in the dirt. The noise startles him and he jumps up.

"Wait!" You clamber to your feet.

He hops over the fence and scurries away, darting glances at you over his shoulder. You grab your half-eaten ham sandwich from the porch and race after him. He's fast and agile, darting into the trees and leaping over fallen branches while you straggle behind, still calling for him to wait for you. You lose sight of him when you're forced to stop and catch your breath. The lettuce has fallen out of the sandwich, but you're pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted it anyway. You walk aimlessly in the direction he went, wondering if you'll be able to find him.

You come across a hole between the thick roots of a tree that looks just about big enough. You kneel and look into the hole. The dirt has been scraped away and smoothed down to make a tunnel.

"Hello?" You call down. "Is this your den?"

There's a rustle, and the werefox boy pops his head out, his eyes alert. You sit back on your haunches and look at him.

"Why are you following me?" He asks, his ears constantly twitching as he listens to the forest.

"You can speak?"

"Duh," he replies.

"I brought you this." You hold out the sandwich, which is crumbly now.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward to sniff your hand. He snatches it from you and scarfs it down, his pupils widening as he tastes the ham.

"Is it good?" You ask.

He nods and eyes your greasy hand. He leans forward and presses his muzzle against your hand, licking the taste of ham away.

You giggle. "You're like a really big puppy!"

He pulls back and disappears into his den.

"Better come inside. It's dangerous out there," he mutters.

You clamber happily in with no regard for your safety. His den is like a secret treehouse, but way cooler. The floor is lined with dry, crunchy leaves and soft downy chicken feathers.

"You might get in trouble for killing people's chickens, you know," you say, crossing your legs and getting comfortable.

There's just about enough room for the two of you.

"I'm not," he says. "I gather the loose feathers when I... You know." He looks ashamed.

"Where are your parents?" You ask. "They should be taking care of you so you don't have to steal."

"I don't know," he says, lying down and curling his tail around his thin body. "I ran away."

"Ran away from your home? Why?"

"It wasn't a home, it was a traveling circus." He stares at the dirt ceiling of his den. "We went to so many different places."

You glimpse a scruffy, dirty collar chafing the fur around his neck.

"Was that from the circus? Why are you still wearing it?"

"I can't work the latch," he says.

"Can I help?"

He squirms and shivers, but tilts his head to let you try. In a few seconds, you've removed it. His eyes brighten and he rubs the fur on his neck.

"Thank you," he says shyly.

You nod. "What was the circus like? Did they poke you with sticks like they do with the lions? To get you to do tricks?"

His shoulders quiver and he makes a barking sound that seems equivalent to a human laugh.

"No, I pickpocketed the crowd. I was small and quick, so nobody really noticed me.

"Where the circus people mean to you? Is that why you left?"

He shakes his head. "They were okay. But we were always in the cities when all I wanted to do was be in the forests and look up at the night sky. I couldn't leave because I had a contract, so I just ran away."

"And now you're here."

He nods, idly scratching the matted fur on his neck where the collar was.

"You can't steal any more eggs," you tell him. "I'll bring you food instead."

"Why would you do that?" His gaze follows you as you crawl over to the entrance of his den.

"Because we're friends," you tell him. "I have to go home now, or else my Ma will wonder where I am."

"Okay."

"You never told me your name. Friends need to know each other's names," you tell him.

"At the circus, everyone called me Harcourt, so I guess that's my name."

"So fancy," you giggle and tell him your name in return. "See you tomorrow!"

You keep your promise, showing up the next day with a whole sandwich this time, and a brush. You show him how to use it and help him pick twigs and clumps of dirt out of his fur. He hates the water, but you convince him to try it. Once he's dry, you brush him until he's fluffy and soft, and the sun dances in his fur. He begins to smile, and you never mind how sharp his teeth are. As time passes you grow apart from your old friends, but Harcourt remains close.

Your mother notices that the eggs are never stolen again. One day as you head out for your daily "walk" she packs some extra food and puts it in your hands.

"How long have you known, Ma?"

"Do you think I'd let my girl leave the house almost every day without making sure you're safe?" She says with a twinkle in her eye.

You wrinkle your nose, trying to picture your mother sneaking after you.

"So you don't mind?" You ask. "Harcourt and I are friends now."

"So his name is Harcourt..." She murmurs. "Just make sure to come home before dark, my child."

That's how you made- and kept- your unlikely friend. You spend most of your free time in the forest with Harcourt, eating sandwiches and drinking cool water from the spring nearby. You taught him how to swim and look for shapes in the clouds and in return, he showed you how to forage for berries and edible mushrooms. You brought some blankets out to his den and on cold days you would curl up together inside his den and you would read to him with the light of a lantern.

He began to put on a little muscle and get taller than you. He was also moodier, and would sometimes growl when he was in an extra bad mood. You got testy yourself, and sometimes you would argue and end up storming back to your house in angry tears. You had always told your mother everything and that didn't change. She listened to you, smiled, and sometimes even shed a tear at your woes.

She never complained about your friendship with Harcourt but as puberty hit she got more cautious, often poking around embarrassing subjects, which embarrassed you to no end. You would tell her it wasn't like that and you were just friends, and then you would run to your room and blush angrily into your pillow, wondering why she even had to bring that up.

Eventually, you had to leave for the capital to further your education. You cried the hardest that day, soaking Harcourt's fur with your tears and promising that you wouldn't forget him. You wrote him letters and asked your mother to read them to him. Your dear mother even wrote back for him now and then. Harcourt's letters were filled with stories about fishing, expanding his den, an incident with a badger, and even working in town to make some money. He had learned to read and promised to learn to write as well.

Half a year later he fulfilled that promise. His handwriting was chicken scratch and hard to read, but you stuck each one to your dorm wall and looked at them often. Your roommate got to hear the whole story from you, and would often tease you and tell you that you were definitely in love. After a while, you stopped denying it.

Finally, you completed your last year and graduated. You could hardly contain your excitement as you packed to go home, looking forward to seeing your mother, breathing in the crisp countryside air, and meeting your good friend again. You headed to the train station and before you knew it, you were on the way home.

[sonics-atelier]

Dark Knight, Gentle Heart

Based on this post by @spicy-apple-pie

The Justice League was in the middle of a particularly complicated mission. The objective was to infiltrate a rogue science lab and gather intelligence on a series of illegal experiments. As usual, Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, and Green Lantern were handling the mission with their characteristic efficiency. However, things took an unexpected turn when they stumbled upon a small, makeshift nursery hidden deep within the lab.

In the center of the room was a crib, and in the crib, a baby was crying loudly, its wails echoing off the sterile walls.

"What the—?" Flash exclaimed, zipping over to the crib. "Who leaves a baby in a place like this?"

Wonder Woman frowned, her maternal instincts kicking in as she approached. "We need to find out who this child belongs to and why they were left here."

Superman reached into the crib, gently lifting the infant into his arms. "We should take the baby with us. It’s not safe here."

The baby, however, did not appreciate the change in scenery and started crying even louder, tiny fists flailing.

"I don’t know if I'm doing this right," Superman admitted, awkwardly bouncing the baby. "What do you think, Wonder Woman?"

Diana tried to comfort the baby next, cooing softly and rocking it in her arms, but the baby’s cries only grew more frantic. Flash and Green Lantern gave it a try as well, but to no avail. The tiny infant seemed inconsolable.

Bruce Wayne, the ever-stoic Batman, observed the scene from a few paces away. He had stayed back, preferring to analyze the situation and the surroundings for any immediate threats. As the baby’s cries intensified, his expression shifted from one of calculation to one of mild concern.

"Give them to me," Bruce said, stepping forward.

The other members of the Justice League exchanged uncertain glances. Batman wasn’t exactly known for his nurturing side. But they were out of options, and the baby was growing more distressed by the second.

"Uhh, we don’t know if we should trust Batman with a baby," Flash muttered, but seeing no other choice, he sighed. "But at this point… fuck it."

Wonder Woman gently handed the baby to Batman, and the group watched with bated breath.

To their collective surprise, Bruce tucked the baby into his chest, one hand supporting its tiny body while the other gently patted its back. He began to softly bounce on his heels, his voice dropping to a deep, rumbling whisper.

"It’s okay, sweetheart. Shhh, you’re safe," he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

The effect was immediate. The baby’s cries subsided to soft whimpers, and within moments, the infant’s eyes fluttered closed, its tiny body relaxing completely in Bruce’s arms.

The Justice League stood there, gobsmacked. Superman’s mouth hung open, Wonder Woman’s eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline, and Flash looked like he might faint from shock.

"Why is Batman so good with babies?" Green Lantern finally asked, breaking the stunned silence.

Batman looked up, a faint but unmistakable hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You learn a few things when you’re responsible for a ward. Dick wasn’t always a grown man, you know."

The explanation made sense, but it didn’t make the sight any less surreal. Batman, the Dark Knight, the terror of Gotham’s underworld, was gently cradling a baby in his arms, and the baby was peacefully asleep.

"Well," Superman said, finally recovering his composure. "I guess you’re on baby duty until we find the parents."

"Agreed," Wonder Woman added, her eyes still wide with astonishment. "We don’t want to wake them and start the crying again."

And so, the mission continued, with Batman holding the baby. As they made their way through the lab, Bruce was careful not to jostle the sleeping infant. His demeanor remained calm and composed, but his teammates couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in his expression. Batman looked—dare they say it—happy. Or at least, as happy as Batman could look without deeply horrifying the Justice League.

The mission wrapped up smoothly. The rogue scientists were apprehended, and their illegal operations were shut down. Throughout it all, Batman kept the baby secure and comfortable, never once letting the infant’s rest be disturbed.

Back at the Watchtower, they finally tracked down the baby’s parents, who had been frantically searching for their child after a desperate escape from the lab. The reunion was tearful and heartfelt, and the parents expressed their deepest gratitude to the Justice League.

As they handed the baby back, Bruce couldn’t resist one last gentle pat. "Take care of them," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity.

The parents nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. "Thank you," the mother said, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you so much."

After the family left, the Justice League members turned to Bruce, their expressions a mix of respect and curiosity.

"Alright, Batman," Flash said, grinning. "You’ve got to tell us more about these baby-handling skills. Who knew the Dark Knight had a soft side?"

Bruce smirked, his eyes twinkling with rare amusement. "Maybe you should spend more time in Gotham. You might learn a thing or two."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the rest of the League to marvel at the many layers of the man they thought they knew so well. It was a side of Batman they had never seen before, and it only deepened their respect for him.

As the Watchtower settled back into its usual rhythm, the team couldn’t help but share knowing smiles. Batman, the protector of Gotham, the scourge of villains, was also a gentle guardian, capable of soothing even the most distressed of hearts.

And perhaps, in that moment, they understood why Bruce Wayne had chosen to don the mantle of the Bat—not just to strike fear into the hearts of wrongdoers, but to protect and nurture the innocent, no matter how small.

- @sonics-atelier ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form, I will decapitate you)

[ddejavvu]

hi i know u literally just wrote this, but could u please do more bully! sirius? i just loved it so much!!

maybe he sees u crying cause u failed a test or something and he’s comforting u but doing it in a teasing/forceful way?? like him pretending he’s being mean but saying heaps of actually nice stuff about u

thanks so much!!

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

cw for bully!sirius. he doesn't hurt her, he just teases her, but if you're uncomfortable with that then don't read. this is your warning, your media consumption beyond this point is your responsibility.

You're already more than ashamed to be crying in the back corner of the library, and that's before Sirius barges his way in. You're not sure how he found you, you'd tucked yourself away snugly behind a shelf. He seems to have a scarily terrific ability to find you wherever you are in the castle, much to both your dismay and delight.

It's not delightful now, though. Not when you want to be alone.

"Well, what have we got here?" His tone is unfortunately sharp today, more so than usual, "Oh, poor thing." He crouches beside you, peering condescendingly at your tearstained cheeks, "Lemme guess. You raised your hand, and the professor didn't call on you. Is that it?"

"Go away." You plead, turning your face away from him against the back of the bookshelf. He scoffs, reaching for your face and turning it back towards him.

"C'mon, out with it. Really, what's got you crying?"

"It's none of your business," You try, but he tightens his hold on your face ever-so-slightly, and you quiet down.

"Your business is my business," He murmurs, "That's why I'm always in it. Spit it out."

"I just got a bad grade! Okay? I got a bad grade, and I don't feel good about it. And I'm not used to not feeling good about my grades," You sniffle, wiping beneath your nose with the sleeve of your robe, "It's just new and I hate it."

"Bollocks," Sirius studies your face for a second after you confess, trying to decipher if you're lying. But you're not, and he knows it.

"You got a bad grade? Little Miss Fuckin' Perfect got a bad grade? What's bad to you, a 95? Is 89 enough to send you to your grave?"

"I got a forty!" You barely refrain from wailing in the quiet library, hissing miserably instead, "And it was a really important exam. Just leave me alone, you're making this worse."

"You can't possibly be crying over one 40%," Sirius gives you a disgruntled look, "You think that's gonna change anything? You're annoyingly smart, this is never gonna happen again and you'll probably raise the grading curve for the next exam just like you always do. Suppose I should be thanking you for lowering it this time, actually."

"Sirius-"

"Pull yourself together," He narrows his eyes, leaning in so close that you can feel his breath hit your skin, "Dust yourself off, and get off the floor. You're a big girl, yeah?"

You nod in his grip, "Mhm."

"Then act like one," He lets you go, "Come on, off your arse. It'd be a pity if you flattened the thing, 'might have to pitch myself off the astronomy tower."

[mandoalorian]

tolerate it [javi peña x gn!reader]

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky…” 

Warnings: this is not nice, I'm sorry. This is pure, unadulterated angst. Based on the song tolerate it and You’re Losing Me by Miss Swift herself.  Word count: 2000approx. Author’s note: one thing about me is I come back every 6 months, drop a one-shot, and then leave again. Was feeling a bit of seasonal depression today. I don’t enjoy fall as much as the rest of the world, it seems, but here is an autumnal fic to get your spirits going. Masterlist Ko-fi

Fall.

Two take-out cups of piping hot Colombian ground coffee warming up your bare hands, because you thought it was too early for gloves, and the trees standing naked and tall with crusty red leaves blanketing the damp ground beneath your chunky boots. Holding the newspaper in the crook of your elbow, you sigh as you feel rain begin to fall from the grey clouds above. You pick up the pace, striding through the swarms of busy people doing their seasonal shopping, just wanting to get back home dry.

Your wishes weren’t commanded and you stumbled through the front door of your townhouse sopping wet, hair stuck to your face and mascara now three inches down your cheeks. You put the coffee cups on the dining room table along with the newspaper and took off your coat. At some point, Javier came in and sat down at the table. His fingers pinched at the corners of the paper. The pages were ripped and wet and the ink was bleeding into an incoherent smudge on the front page. Javier opened the lid of his coffee and took a sip before immediately scrunching up his face and putting it back on the table. You turned to face your partner, only to be met with his lips curled into a frown and his brows furrowed together in disdain. You looked at him, helpless and apologetic.

“What’s wrong now?” You huffed, searching for answers in his empty brown eyes. You were tired of asking the question.

“It’s cold,” He muttered, his eyes not leaving yours as he awaited an explanation like he was owed it. His words are blunt and sharp but you have no choice other than to take his indiscretions on your shoulder.

But instead, you offered him nothing short of a scoff as you emptied the pools of water from your boots.  The storm outside was loud and persisted with long wails and cries. In silence, you sat next to Javier at the table, and in spite, drank your cold coffee.

After a few moments, you smiled to yourself, wanting to lighten the mood and remembering something that you had seen on television a few days ago. “You know, in California, iced coffee is a thing? Yeah, that’s how they prefer to drink it over there.”

Javier grunted in acknowledgement, leaning back on his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

Your eyes flicked between the oak wood dining table, and the way you had set it so beautifully with your fancy China and centrepiece. The empty vase waiting for a fresh bunch of flowers stood tall and was gleaming after you’d spent a good chunk of your day cleaning and polishing it. A single, pumpkin-scented candle flickered in between you and Javier, your gaze fixated on the dancing ember. Finally, you looked back at Javier, who was taking shallow breaths as he awaited you to pay him attention.

When you fail to do so, it causes a problem. “I have to get to the office,” he announced after a few minutes of silence. 

“But it’s a Saturday,” you replied. Ever since Javier got his big promotion, it meant he could do fewer hours and stop working weekends. He hadn’t gone to the office on a Saturday in nearly two years. Javier stood up and put on his leather jacket, the same one he’d kept from the 70s. He still rocked it, of course, but in this climate, it just wasn’t smart. “You’re going to need something warmer than that jacket, you’ll freeze to death.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor, and went to walk to the bedroom, finding a coat for Javier to wear. You picked one out that you knew he hated. It was long and plaid and not his style at all, too ‘modern’, he called it, but it was the only thing that would stop him from catching a cold. You grabbed a pair of gloves and a scarf and walked back out, following him into the hallway. He waited for you and stood leaning against the door frame, looking at the outside world ahead of him.

Sure enough, the storm had cleared up in a matter of minutes and golden rays of sunlight peeked through the now white clouds. Your heart fell, deflated when Javier refused to wear the coat and the scarf you’d picked out for him. 

“The gloves, at least,” you begged him, your eyes wide and glazed with unshed tears that you didn’t realise you were holding back. The air was thick with flaws and indecisions. Javier felt a pang of guilt in his heart when he read your expression and took the gloves from you, shoving them in his jacket pocket, a silent promise that he might just put them on later if he remembered.

“Will you be home for dinner?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Javier placed a chaste kiss atop your head. “I love you.” You promised him, but the words were lost on him.

“See you later,” he replied, before pulling away and walking over to his truck. 

You’d normally watch him get in and drive away but this time, you shut the door before he even stepped off the patio and sauntered into the living room where you slouched onto the couch, hung your head low and closed your eyes. Darkness. You wondered how long you could keep fighting this. You were so tired of giving your all, only to be met with so little appreciation back. What was once the richest of love had turned cold and empty. You gave him endless empathy and he was killing you. 

Javier pulled up outside of Luna Azul, his favourite bar. He hated this. He didn’t like lying to you, but he just needed to get away. He pulled out a cigarette and rested it between his lips, pushing the front door open and immediately taking a seat at the bar. Lighting the cigarette, he took a deep inhale of the nicotine, letting it sting his throat before exhaling. He loved you, he really did. He didn’t remember a point in time when things shifted, he didn’t understand why things had changed so much. You were still his person, his soulmate, he knew he’d never find anyone else like you, but there was just something missing.

“Hey Javi, why the sad face?” Elza, the barmaid asked, already pouring him a whiskey on the rocks, his usual order. “Did someone die?”

Javier feigned a smile before downing his drink. “Rough day.”

“Ah,” Elza said softly. “Trouble in paradise?”

The words made Javier wince. He gestured for another drink, of which Elza promptly poured him. “I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Javi,” Elza frowned. “You deserve better.”

Javi’s frown deepened. He swirled the whiskey as he processed Elza’s words. He really didn’t believe that he deserved better, Hell,  he barely believed that he deserved you, and you were more than good enough. You were perfect. 

And suddenly, for Javier, it all made sense. He was damaged goods. All those years in the DEA, fighting in a war… that’s what had changed Javier. The years of trauma that he’d never confronted… never got help for. He had hidden his feelings, fought his nightmares and pretended like they didn’t bother him. He’d come this far, he wasn’t scared… he couldn’t be scared, he wasn’t allowed to be scared. He had to be strong, brave, get over it. Javier downed his second whiskey, his skin getting white hot as realization gushed over him. Elza filled his glass up with a third, watching the agent intently.

You weren’t the one who changed, he was, and it took him this long to realise. It was all becoming so clear now, how hard you had been trying and how he hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ in six months. Javier’s stomach was in knots, he didn’t know how or why you’d stayed this long when he had given you nothing in return for your efforts. Impulsively, Javier downed the third whiskey. 

Something had to change. He had to change—get better. He knew now that was the only thing that would fix the relationship he’d been taking for granted. He had to go home and apologise. He had to make things right before it was too late. Javier stubbed out the butt of the cigarette and stood up abruptly, only to be met with ruby-red lips crashing down on his hard. Teeth biting down on Javier’s lower lip, Javier let out a small groan. He hadn’t been kissed in so long. But these weren’t your soft, sweet lips. Javier pulled away, eyes widening when he saw Elza standing in front of him with a smirk.

Javier rubbed at his lips in an attempt to wipe away any traces of infidelity. This is not what he wanted or needed right now. He had to get home and fast. Without sparing a single word to Elza, Javier dived out the door and jumped into his pickup truck.

Grey clouds gathered outside as Javier jogged up the driveway, an indication of another storm. You were cooking when Javier arrived home. You were so surprised to hear the front door open as he’d only been gone for half an hour or so. You’d been thinking hard and decided that if tonight wasn’t any different than previous nights then that would be it. You'd be out the door.  The thought of it was soul-crushing because you wanted to marry this man. But you couldn’t take it anymore. Fighting with all your strength and might only to be ignored.

“Hermosa,” Javier greeted, exasperated and breathless. If your eyes weren’t immediately drawn to the remnants of red lipstick on his lips, you might have noticed his tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. He’d been crying all the way home, crying for being so stupid and reckless for all these months, for not taking care of himself, but most importantly, not taking care of you.

Your heart plummeted in your chest and you dropped the wooden spoon that was in your hands. It clattered on the floor, the noise making Javier jump, but you stood there, still and unwavering. Silent tears began to stream down your cheeks and you couldn’t strain your gaze away from your boyfriend who was smelling thick of alcohol and had another woman’s lipstick on his face. That was it.

He had dealt his final blow.

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

its been years since I've redone my masterlist so im starting again from scratch. if you see this and want to be added, let me know.

[hum-suffer]

Can you write a piece on the relationship between Nakula and Sahadeva? Pretty please 🥺

These are the kind of anons I live for!!!!! Thank you for the ask, and sorry for being so late! I hope you like this

Scars, blood and flesh.

The first scar Sahadev ever has is from Nakul.

It's not a big scar, it's barely the size of half a fingertip, but it's there. Right on the bridge of his nose.

It happens when Sahadev and Nakul are sparring, Sahadev has been asking for Nakul to convince their father to take him to the forest the next time they go to collect fruits and Nakul is tired of hearing the same thing over and over again and for a heartbeat, he forgets himself and pushes too hard and the wood of his lathi breaks skin, instead of resting there in warning.

Sahadev doesn't cry. It's a surprise, considering that he's only five years old, but the boy doesn't weep or wail. The tears fall from his eyes in reaction but he doesn't show the pain.

Madri twists Nakul's ear and yells at him, telling him that he's a coward and he's stupid for hitting his younger brother even in sparring. Kunti tries to hold her back as Pandu tends to Sahadev's nose, Yuddhishthir standing in the tow. Sahadev waves away all of his brothers and climbs in Pandu's lap as Madri yells at Nakul,"He's your brother! Your blood! And he's the youngest of the lot of you and as an elder brother, you should be protecting him from harm, not harming him! Whatever harms him is your enemy!"

Nakul sighs and doesn't reply back to her, bowing his head to show that he's sorry.

Later, when everyone else has gone to sleep, Sahadev turns on his side to find Nakul sitting up, sniffling softly and holding his arms to chest in a pseudo hug, nails digging into his own biceps.

Sahadev sits up too. Nakul seems startled by the moment but quickly wipes away at his eyes and tries to smile at his little twin. "Why are you awake so, Sahadev?"

Sahadev blinks at Nakul. "You're awake."

It seems that the younger one doesn't care to elaborate and that is the answer to Nakul's question. Something softer blows up in his chest like a bubble and Nakul turns his head away.

Sahadev pokes his shoulder. "Do you sometimes wonder if we, as people, have a free will or are we just puppets to the wish of Prajapati, with our karm phal sprinkled in our fate?"

"Sahadev, what are you even talking about?"

"Well, you aren't talking about what you want. I thought that I may talk about what I want." The cheerfulness leaves his and Sahadev smiles softly at his brother. "Talk to me, twin. What are you thinking?"

The tears come back again in Nakul's eyes and he cannot look away from Sahadev's eyes, the stars in his big eyes. Nakul will forever be a slave to Sahadev's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sahadev. I did not intend to hurt you. I lost control of myself. I should not have, I am aware, and I will definitely work better but, please, forgive me." His voice starts cracking halfway through and Sahadev leans on his shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I forgive you, Nakul." He says, voice soft. "I know you would never wish to hurt me. Accidents happen. For that matter, I am also sorry that Mata yelled at you so much."

Nakul shakes his head. "I did deserve it."

Sahadev doesn't deny it.

They fall asleep, Sahadev's nose pressed onto Nakul's shoulder and Nakul's arm around his own shoulders.

Two weeks later, they both realise that the marks on their skin will not go away. Sahadev's nose has a tiny darker patch of skin and Nakul's biceps have crescent shaped scars that are almost invisible unless inspected closely.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

The day Madri and Pandu die, Yudhishthir tries to hold Nakul to his chest and console him but Nakul kneels over and sobs, hitting the ground in his frustration and never realising that he's drawing blood, not until he hears Sahadev throwing up somewhere in the corner and real life comes back to him.

The stain of red blood on his saffron clothes makes him freeze for a moment but he pushes away Kunti and rushes over to Sahadev, who starts to sway dizzily. Nakul is not strong enough, he cannot hold his twin in his hands like this when Sahadev is falling over and they both fall over backwards. Nakul tries to protect his twin— he couldn't protect his mother, his father, he has to protect his remaining family, he has to take care of his little twin— but he fails.

Sahadev lands on a patch of rock and grunts, one of the sharper rocks having broken his skin and formed a cut on his side.

Fascinatingly, Nakul stares at his hand and Sahadev's side and their blood is the same and he knows it, intellectually, hes always known it, but seeing it, at this moment, has Nakul gasping for air.

Their blood is the same. Nakul spilt Sahadev's blood too. Sahadev is coloured in Nakul's blood too. They are the only two people in the world who are the sons of Madri and Pandu, born with the blessings of the Ashwini Kumars.

"Twin," Sahadev mumbles senseless as their brothers crowd around them and bring them water. "We are the same."

Nakul can't help but agree in dizziness.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

The thing about Sahadev's anger is that it's rare, but it's absolutely destructive. Nakul is more likely to snap and snarl at the smallest of things, but Sahadev let's his anger build, shimmer and dance under his skin, scratching the surface every so often.

The first time that Sahadev shouts in front of their family is when Yudhishthir accepts the invite to the Dhyut Sabha.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Sahadev says, strangely condescending,"All of us, our personal servants, our clothes, our chariots, Krishnaa's palquin, the children, their clothes— we have to travel all of that to Hastinapur for a two day stay and come back with all of that? Do you remember how far it is? And Krishnaa has just delivered a child, so has Bhabhishri Shubhadra and Bhabhishri Karenumati, are we really going to leave the state without an emperor just for Dhyut?"

"It's family we are talking about, Sahadev," Yudhishthir tries to speak in that soft tone he's always used for Sahadev only. In some ways, Sahadev is somewhat a child of Yuddhishthir's, the youngest of the brothers. He always has a soft spot. "You must never abandon your family."

Sahadev steps back incredulously. "They abandoned us! Left us to die! Hell, they even tried to kill us! Is that not enough for you, jyeshth?"

Nakul steps forward and wraps his hand around Sahadev's bicep, yanking him back to make him look into Nakul's eyes. "I understand your distress, twin, but enough. Remember yourself."

Sahadev stares at Nakul for a moment, eyes darting all over his face before he yanks his hand back and stumbles back. "My family is not formed of blood, twin. It is formed of tears. And between us, we all shed tears because of them. They did not sympathise with us nor did they do justice by us."

"For Pitamah," Arjun tries to say, "We need to go there to meet him. He hasn't seen his great grandsons."

"Call him here!" Sahadev throws his hands up. "I'll set the room for him by my own hands, hell, I'll go there to escort him here. We live in separate states now, we share no roof with them, stop trying to share our happiness with them! Did they care before insulting our mother or our wife?"

Sahadev doesn't realise he is shaking until Nakul wraps his arms around him, tightly enough that his chest hurts while breathing. Sahadev scratches at his twin in futile effort to make him let go but Nakul holds him fast and close.

He doesn't realise what happens after that, but Nakul is slowly lowering them both to the floor, the glittering red makes it look like they're both kneeling in a lake of blood.

Nakul rocks him back and forth, a hand caressing his hair in a way that hasn't been done in years. Sahadev doesn't remember the last time Nakul raked his fingers through his hair like this. Perhaps before their marriage to Krishnaa. Or before that.

"We are the same, twin," Nakul says as he feels Sahadev sag against him. "One and the same. Tell me. Tell me."

Sahadev feels his hands, previously scratching at Nakul, fall to his sides. "They don't love us. Pitamah keeps comparing jyesth to Pita Shri and it has made jyesth want for the need of his approval, to show that he will never be what Maharaj Pandu was and he will never leave his family." He looks up at his elder brother helplessly. "But we are his family. They're demons, in the guise of family. They will only stop when we are dead. We had our escape, we have our Kingdom now. We can leave. We are allowed. This little piece of happiness. We are allowed to be safe. I don't want to be another Maharaj Pandu. I don't want to leave my children behind to wail for me."

And. That's it.

Their brothers may understand what Sahadev says, but they cannot feel it. Nakul does. Sahadev's nail scratches leave some barely there scars on his sides and back and they burn in the air but Nakul gathers his younger brother in his arms and stays.

Yudhishthir may think of Sahadev as somewhat of his child, but it is not secret that Nakul has always been exactly what Sahadev has needed. And sometimes, the difference between them is much more than minutes and Nakul feels as though he is embracing his child, as Sahadev's head lays on his chest and red eyes look up at him in hopes that he will advocate on Sahadev's behalf and get him what he wants.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

When they are walking up the mountain and Sahadev falls, Nakul is instantly on his knees.

No warrior has been able to bring the son of Madri to his knees, and yet, as his twin doesn't open his eyes, Nakul knees on the white snow and wails. He's begging— to anyone who is listening, his brothers, his wife, gods, demons— he's begging for his twin to at least stay with him a little bit longer.

Sahadev looks old in death, Nakul thinks numbly. The grey in his hair is starker, the wrinkles more prominent. The scar on his nose is still highlighted.

Nakul has lost everything. Father, mother, step mother, other blood relatives, his own son, nephews, his position, power, everything. And yet, the void in him has never been emptier as it is now, when Sahadev's chest is no longer rising and falling.

He has never lived in a world where he has to walk away from his twin.

And perhaps that is the reason, that barely five feet away, Nakul falls down, too. And perhaps that is also the reason, that instead of snow, he feels his twin's arms welcoming him to death.

[ashwhowrites]

Hey! Could you perhaps do a jealousSteve x Reader (with a bit of Eddie) where the reader asks Eddie for something that only Eddie can do - like, Steve can't help her with it. Maybe teach her to play guitar or something like that? And the more time they spend together the more jealous Steve gets and one day he snaps at Eddie like "I already lost one girl to a freak - Byers - and when I finally meet the love of my life then the next freak swoops in and has to steal her!" and the reader hears this and first she gets angry for how he talks about Eddie and Jonathan but later realizes that he's just scared because this is his worst fear happening again, and she decided to make sure he knows who she loves, smutty way :)

I love this!!! - but I'm not in a very smutty mood so I hope it's okay I didn't include that :)

Freaks vs Steve

Y/N has always wanted to learn how to play an instrument. She didn't care which one she learned, she just wanted to play something. Then she met Eddie, a friend of Dustin. Eddie was an amazing guitar player, and Dustin only had nice things to say about him. She figured Eddie was a person she'd be comfortable with learning from.

But one person who wasn't comfortable with it was her boyfriend Steve. He didn't like the amount of time Y/N and Eddie spent together. Or how close they sat together when he showed her the cords. Or the way she would hug him when she played a cord correctly. Steve tried to give them their space. He didn't want to be the boyfriend that watched from the corner....but that's exactly what he did. He'd glare from the kitchen as Eddie sat on his girlfriend's couch.

Steve thought he'd get used to it and get over it. But he could see a friendship forming. And Steve wished he didn't feel so threatened, but he did.

~~~

Y/N was growing annoyed with Steve's constant glares. She's been learning from Eddie and allowed Steve to be there because she knew he was jealous. She wanted to make him feel secure and see that nothing was going on. But she couldn't focus with his heated gaze burning through Eddie.

She felt a little embarrassed by his behavior. Eddie was nice and always shrugged it off. "Boys will be boys," he'd say with a smile snd continue. Y/N didn't believe that Eddie deserved the hostile environment Steve created. Eddie was always the elephant in the room, and she hated that her boyfriend continued that pattern.

~~~

"What time is Eddie coming?" Steve asked, mixing together a load of sugar into the lemonade.

"Going to his place this time," Y/N said, slipping on her shoes. Steve was next to her immediately, confusion all over his face.

"What? No, he comes here. That's how it always goes." Steve declared his hand on the doorknob to stop her from leaving.

"Steve, you have been incredibly rude to him every week. He's a friend and he's helping me out. Your stares and side comments are making him and me uncomfortable. Nothing is going on. Just trust your girlfriend." Y/N spazzed, locking eyes as she huffed.

"I do trust you. I don't trust him! I don't trust these freaks that come in and latch themselves on my girlfriends. I had to deal with fucking Byers, and now him!" Steve ranted, his arms wailing around in the air, she had to step back to make sure she didn't get hit. She felt the need to roll her eyes but stopped herself.

"Steve, I am not Nancy and he isn't Jonathan. I understand you are scared but talk to me about it. Don't act like a child and throw a fit. The whole time you've been watching us, has Eddie made any slight advance? No, because he isn't into me and I'm not into him. You are my boyfriend." She cooed, wrapping her hands around his shoulders as she kissed his lips. She felt his body melt into her. He nuzzled his face into her neck.

"I'm sorry, I just can't lose you."

"And you won't unless you keep acting like my father and not my boyfriend." She teased.

"Understood." He said as he kissed her lips.

Freaks- 1

Steve- 1

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 9 thoughts

whew! i had a busy day so it's nice to unwind with some scully and mulder time. although by the end of the episode i didn't feel very unwound tbh. it was still time spent with the babygirls, so i can't complain.

so we start with some volcano research. my only note here was "i know a geologist" which is true! shoutout to my one professor. you were chill but i hated that class.

there's a dead guy in the volcano which tbh doesn't seem too surprising... i mean volcanoes are very deadly. but it seems to be one of the dudes involved with the project so that's weird because why would he go down there?

there's this stream going on of the inside volcano and something is disrupting it... hate to see a streamer interrupted :(

then we had the title sequence but for some reason i was wondering, do you think if they got married they'd hyphenate their names... scully-mulder... mulder-scully... does it roll off the tongue? hmm...

so firewalker (the title of our episode) is a robot that goes into the volcano. noted.

here i wrote "holy fuck scully is beautiful". all she was doing was standing there but man.

the scientist who has come to them requesting help is like, this lead scientist named trepkos started this project, and scully says "i always heard he was brilliant", which raises the question: why is scully keeping up with volcano science? nerd

at this point the visiting scientist was explaining how he and trepkos had a professional breakup kinda thing and i'm very sorry for them but i genuinely could not take my eyes off of scully. hope they work it out or whatever. i have bigger priorities.

she wants to get out there and investigate but mulder says "i don't think it's a good idea for you to go" AUGHHH. i am wailing and tearing my shirt. she says that she's fine!!! really!!!

and he has this look on his face that says "i cannot tell this woman what to do, even after she just woke up from a coma, and i never will be able to" and he's very right in that regard

HELICOPTER TIME! mulder is such a gentleman helping her climb out

she has very messy hair at this point and the scientist seems a lot more concerned about his equipment than the fate of the people trapped inside the compound and she seems so thrown off by this

next we have some BIG ASS FLASHLIGHTS!!!! WOOHOO

at this point i made a note that i think i might have been going feral because mulder also looked SO good prowling around that creepy base. and i don't take back my observation but i will psychoanalyze it a bit later. reluctantly.

a creepy dude is hanging around the corner. OH SHOOT he tries to bash mulder's head in and he is MAD "do you always greet people this way?" LMAOOO he took it personally

the other scientists in the base seem to regard the missing trepkos as a threat... hmm...

i really like this jesse character, who is a student and is here to do some research with her advisor

mulder asks for the data on the research trepkos has been doing and she says he destroyed his field journals and computer discs. ahh, computer discs. my old friends. i used to have some games on discs when i was a kid. positive memories.

mulder sees scribbled in some of the notes trepkos didn't destroy that he had written about a "new life form" which honestly kinda happens a lot. like people are always discovering new life forms but the gag is they're beetles. everyday we find new species of beetle. they just won't stop coming. so i'm thinking, well they wanted this to be all dramatic, but statistically it's probably just a volcano beetle this guy found.

mulder and scully have an exchange and again i'm distracted by her freckles but she says he's being paranoid and i'm like. yeah that's kinda his whole deal. mulder being paranoid is like a fork spotted in the kitchen.

so the other scientist who was checking on his equipment was, at this point, killed by trepkos. with a rope. and we get the great closed captions "(neck cracks) (body thuds on ground)" which were very descriptive of the whole process

mulder and scully are having a science based argument on the probability of a silicon-based life form and it was really funny to me because it was a nerd off. and frankly i wouldn't go into a science debate with a doctor but mulder is going full steam ahead. it's getting heated and i'm like damn does this ever lead to them kissing because i can see it happening. anyway she's like no trepkos did not discover a silicon-based life form (spoiler alert: he did)

he's looking around like damn. i'm glad she's back but she's such a pain in my ass <3

scully goes to talk to jesse by knocking on her door and asking to chat and then not waiting for an answer and coming in because that is my girl!!!

jesse says trepkos stopped taking his pills that treat his bipolar disorder and he started being weird, saying they polluted his mind and that she was "polluting his body" which has... implications i prefer not to think about?

(why must we make erotic the bond between a student and their thesis advisor? there is no stronger connection! but. not in this way, tv writers, not in this way. i mean Maybe it wasn't meant that way but it seemed like it was)

mulder is streaming the descent into madness of trepkos because he recorded his ramblings which is probably what my friends on my private story think each time i post. but he's going on about finding a silicon-based life form.

this whole time one of the scientists has been very noticeably coughing and losing his voice and i knew it was gonna go somewhere but all of a sudden he collapses. and mulder yells for scully who is undergoing her shift to Doctor Mode. but we see his neck... pulsate? is that the best word to describe it? augh i don't want to even think about it so we'll leave it there

(jesse was also looking super suspicious but i liked her...)

anyway they put the sick guy on a stretcher and he's down and out until he isn't, and now he's making a RUN for it. he runs and runs and falls in a ditch until a THING takes over his body and explodes. i thought it was a worm at first and it was sososo gross i started sweating. i do not like body horror. the things i endure for these two.

so scully's doing some testing and she's like, yeah this is a silicon-based fungus. and poor jesse is having a nervous breakdown because she has been in this base for 8 months and she just wants to go HOME but now they have to quarantine and i felt so bad for her.

then i remembered the line about her "polluting his body" and things were adding up... and they were NOT looking good for her... no... i cannot do this...

scully's really worried about jesse which is justified because this poor girl is freaking out. but mulder is really worried about scully! he wants to go look for trepkos and he's making excuses why she shouldn't come and finally settles on the need to autopsy the body which he seems to both genuinely believe and also say to keep her back at the base

she knows he's being protective so she says "i'm here and i'm not going anywhere" which is sweet but girl you were in a coma. they had your gravestone made. you are lucky he has not put you in bubblewrap entirely. you can't blame the man for needing you to be safe!!!!

he says he's counting on her and grabs her shoulder with some heavily lingering eye contact that, when i see in gif form, i will surely slam the reblog button upon because. good lord.

jesse is talking to the other guy and he says something like "do what we said" and i'm thinking oh man, they're gonna try to get mulder (spoiler alert: they did not quite do that)

the guy is like "you need a guide to go get trepkos" and i'm even MORE suspicious but his reasoning kind of does make sense- it is a volcano maze, after all- still, when mulder goes with him i was tense

BUT THEN he immediately gets shot with a FLARE GUN? which i did NOT see coming. and trepkos emerges from the back of the volcano caves all burned and wild-looking.

he's covering the newly dead body with gasoline and mulder's asking why he's trying to kill him twice when we see the parasite wriggle in his neck (GAG) so then he shoots him with ANOTHER flare to burn up the evil creature. and he's explaining how if you're exposed to the parasite's spores you're gonna be sick...

and scully is back at the base with jesse... who was exposed... so she's not going to be safe...

and we see jesse in her room gagging and convulsing... oh man... it's not looking good....

trepkos is not letting mulder leave, but mulder does not give a fuck LMAO he says "you're gonna have to shoot me then" and goes to walk out... this man was really thinking "they are NOT gonna take scully from me again" and i know that is exactly right!!!!!

NOOOO the lights go off in the compound........... NOOOOO JESSE ATTACK.....

she's handcuffing her and scully together!!!!!! but scully was smart enough to get her behind a door really fast before jesse collapses and the fungus explodes...... but the handcuffs... was the door open a crack?? was it enough to get her infected???!?!?

mulder BURSTS in to see her handcuffed and she keeps repeating "i'm okay, i'm okay" but he must be so shocked because he asks "you alright?" and gently cups her face and at this point i wanted to do some powerful screaming to let out the things i was feeling

we see trepkos come in and look at jesse's body and he says that he told her how this experience would change her life... and i'm getting callbacks to when mulder told scully it would be a nice trip to the forest, but then the whole evil bugs thing happened in s1 ep20... and i am filled with a deep sadness...

so the duo has been sentenced to a month long quarantine, which i'm sure had to absolutely drive them wild. but i think my mutual wrote a fic on this subject so i just simply have no choice but to go read it now! and i assume that, since there are more seasons, the spores did not actually infect them

(and mulder, who was earlier suggesting time off for scully, must be some mix of terrified that any day now the symptoms will start showing and the end will be near, deeply satisfied that she has been forced into getting rest and healing like he wished, and regretting his words that she should take a break, because here she is taking a break. with him. and they're driving each other crazy)

we see trepkos hiking back into the volcano maze with jesse's body and it was actually really sad :(

overall a good episode, another one in the vein of s1 eps 8 and 20 where there is some sort of contagion and we must figure out from where it started and to whom it has gone... but the formula in these episodes keeps me on the edge of my seat and allows for a convergence of doctor scully and protective mulder, two things i am deeply invested in seeing. and seeing mulder try and keep her away from the case after her whole incident made me emo as hell!!!! he is never going to let her out of his sight again unless he has to go keep her safe by finding the wild man in the volcano!!!!!! and even that backfired!!!! ugh my heart!!!!! i love them so deeply!!!

rip my girl jesse i thought u were rad in the brief time we knew each other

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 6

Behind my still closed and sleepy eyelids I perceive an annoying light.

I grunt, letting out a soft wail.

Damn it.

I have to find a better arrangement.

As grateful as I am to have a place to sleep, the floor of the RV isn't exactly the best.

My back hurts.

I blink quickly a couple of times and then finally open my eyes.

Another day is about to begin.

Another day of anxieties and fears awaits me but a small part of me is no longer too scared.

Things between me and Daryl seem to have taken a more peaceful path.

And this thought makes me smile like an idiot.

Well, at least now I know he doesn't hate me.

I don't know exactly what we are.

We are not friends.

We are not lovers that's for sure.

But we both need to be close and I'm not complaining about that.

I stretch my arms upward and my back pops in multiple places.

Ok, it's settled.

Next run I have to find a tent.

And maybe a sleeping bag.

I roll onto my side, pushing myself to get back on my feet.

I look around and obviously I'm alone.

Shit!

I need to get an alarm clock too.

I can't keep sleeping more than everyone else, I don't want to give that asshole of Shane another reason to yell at me.

I snort.

Yet I had asked Carol to wake me up when she got up.

I get out of the RV looking for my friend and I see her right next to Lori, together they are hanging out the laundry.

Great.

Everyone is already busy with something and I'm here to sleep.

It's certainly not a good way to make me accept.

I walk towards the two women, fixing my ponytail, trying to tidy up my not-so-fantastic look.

Another thing I need?

New clothes.

Glenn and I need to take another little trip into town soon.

Glenn, my sweet little traitor.

I sigh resignedly.

“Good morning” I yawn as I approach the two women.

Lori mutters a hello under her breath, avoiding my gaze.

I'm sorry that she feels uncomfortable with me but I understand her.

She doesn't know me well and maybe she fears that I might betray her trust but I will show her to what I'm about and that she can trust me.

After all, it's not her fault.

It's not her fault that Shane let her fall into his clutches.

“Good morning, Summer” Carol greets me with a huge smile on her face.

I can see the curiosity shining in her eyes.

I roll my eyes and she giggles.

I know what she wants to know.

Last night she saw me leave with Daryl and when I got back to the RV she was already asleep so she doesn't know what happened.

Technically nothing happened but something changed inside me.

Now I know that Daryl wants me here, by his side.

For what I don't know but we will both find out.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” I ask her, yawning again.

“Because you need to rest Summer and then you came back late last night…so?” Carol whispers, lowering her voice so Lori can't hear us.

I look around trying to figure out where the others are.

“What exactly do you want to know, Carol?”

“Oh let me think…maybe I want to know when you came back tonight.Or what did you do tonight”

Her bright sly eyes make the corner of my lips lift.

“Don't fantasize too much.We just talked”

Carol crosses her arms over her chest.

“Okay.You don't have to tell me about it.But something happened last night, with Shane I mean”

I jump when I hear his name.

Instinctively my eyes find Shane as he hobbles towards the old yellow Cherokee where Rick, Andrea and T-dog are talking to each other.

It seems his ankle isn't fully healed yet.

At the same time Daryl comes out of his tent.

The sun reflects off his crossbow strapped on his back.

Today he seems to be in a slightly better mood.

I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth.

I wonder if I'm the cause of the aforementioned good mood.

He walks with a sure step as he fastens the last buttons of his shirt, a shirt that clings to his statuesque body in a sinful way.

“Earth calls Summer”

In front of my eyes Carol is waving her hand, which I playfully push away.

“Yes, you certainly didn't do anything.Your dreamy look tells me something completely different" the woman teases me, making me giggle.

I look at Daryl one last time and then turn to her.

“No Carol, we didn't do anything.But that doesn't mean I wouldn't want it" I reply smiling and winking at her.

Carol giggles, nudging me lightly.

It's nice to have someone you can confide in and joke around with.

“But what about Shane?Why do I feel like you literally stopped Daryl from beating his ass yesterday?”

A shiver runs down my spine thinking back to last night.

If Daryl hadn't listened to me…I'm scared to imagine what would have happened.

Carol looks at me carefully with her big eyes, a feeling of concern and love on her face.

I glance towards Lori and my gesture does not go unnoticed by Carol who raises an eyebrow in response.

“I'll talk to you about it later, okay?”

She nods.

I can trust her.

And speaking of who I can trust, I haven't seen Glenn yet.

He and I definitely need to have a chat.

In front of the car Rick gestures, pointing to a map placed on the hood.

Today I won't sit idle, today I will give my help to Sophia's research.

“Carol, do you mind taking care of the chores today?”

“Sure” she replies without hesitation.

I thank her with a nod of my head moving away from her and towards the group of people in front of us.

“All right, everyone's getting new search grids today” Rick is saying when I reach them.

I stop next to Daryl, immediately catching his attention.

His bright blue eyes look down at me.

“Hey” he greets me embarrassed.

The tips of his ears are red.

I answer him with a brief smile.

His embarrassed gaze returns to Rick as I lower mine to my boots.

Here in the sunlight the weight of the words we said to each other last night, when the darkness protected us, seems to crush us.

Maybe he regretted having laid himself so bare in front of my eyes.

Or maybe he didn't really mean what he said.

When I look up Shane is staring at me, he looks at me as if he is annoyed by my presence.

As if he were bothered by my very existence.

I feel Daryl's body slide slightly in front of mine, his hand rests lightly on my hip, hiding me completely behind him.

This is his way of letting me know that he cares about me in some way and won't let anyone hurt me.

A slight smile curves my lips.

“If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl founds, she might have gone further east than we've been so far” continues Rick.

From behind Daryl's shoulder I can see Shane shake his head and walk away to sit in the passenger seat with his back to us.

I don't have time to investigate further his annoyed attitude that another voice attracts our attention.

It's Jimmy.

If I remember correctly he should be Beth's boyfriend.

“I'd like to help” begins the boy, approaching Rick.

“I know the area pretty well and stuff”

Rick nods.

“If Hersel agrees, we wouldn't mind having extra help”

His tired look makes me understand how much this man is fighting with all his strength not to collapse.

His heart and his head right now I'm sure are not pleasant places.

Great responsibilities rest on him.

His head and heart are full of worries and fears.

Fear for his son.

The burden of protecting his people.

The fear of never finding Sophia.

We all need to find that little girl, not just for Carol but for all of us.

She is our last chance to continue to have hope in this chaotic new world.

Jimmy nods.

“Yeah, yeah.He said I should ask you”

Rick thanks him with a nod and a small pat on his back.

If Rick agreed for Jimmy I'm sure he won't object to my decision to volunteer for the research.

I take a step forward joining Daryl side again.

“I want to help too, Rick”

The archer stiffens and he and Rick exchange a long look after which with a slight snort and an annoyed look Daryl nods.

“Ya can come with me” he grumbles without even looking at me.

Great.

I move nervously, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

I feel the blade of my knife stored in the waistband of my jeans rubbing against the skin of my back.

I can't decipher Daryl's reaction but I'm pretty sure he doesn't want me with him.

I admit that it hurts me but at least he accepted, does it mean something right?

“Okay.Like I said before we've got a lot of ground to cover so any help is welcome”

I'm about to thank Rick when Shane's annoying voice interrupts us.

“Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me.Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse”

Asshole I think, letting all the disappointment I feel for his words show through the expression on my face.

This man is heartless.

“Anybody includes her, right?” Andrea intervenes.

Daryl fidgets next to me.

I get close enough so that our arms touch.

He relaxes a little but doesn't look at me.

“Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high” Daryl says, indicating with his hand the height of a little girl.

“It's a good lead” I speak supporting his hypothesis.

“Maybe we'll pick up her trail again” adds Rick hopefully.

His crystalline gaze falls on his best friend as if he felt the need to have his approval but obviously the man ignores our words.

“No maybe about it.We're gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge righ' here, get a bird's-eye view of the whole grid.If she's up there, we'll spot her”

The confidence with which Daryl speaks while with his thick finger he points on the map sends my brain into a tailspin.

His dominant nature prevails over everyone here.

He doesn't speak for what if or hypotheses, he is certain of what he says.

He knows that he will find Sophia.

It's just a matter of time.

“Good idea” nods T-Dog.

“Maybe you'll see your chupacabra up there too” he adds with a chuckle.

I can't help myself and smile too.

I didn't think Daryl would be a guy who believes in such nonsense.

“Chupacabra?” Rick asks, raising both eyebrows skeptically.

Dale arrives behind us and places a bag on the hood of the car from which he begins to take out a rifle.

“You never heard this?” questions the man addressed to everyone.

“Our first night in camp” the old man begins to tell “Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra”

Jimmy and I laugh in unison, both getting a scowl from the man.

“What are ya braying at, jackass?” he grumbles at both of us.

I shake my head even more amused as Jimmy ventures a response.

“So you believe in a blood-sucking dog?” the boy teases him.

Daryl shifts in place, running a hand over his face.

“Do you believe dead people walking around?” he replies, silencing the boy.

Amused by the whole situation, I put my hand on his chest, giving him a playful pat.

“You have a point, Dixon” I chuckle.

He looks at me with stormy eyes but then he cracks a smile, shaking his head, making me weak on my knees.

He seems amused by my insolence.

Shane huffs like he's bored.

Each of us is trying to see the bright side in all this crap why the hell does he have to be such an asshole?

Suddenly I feel anger rising in my body, I can feel it boiling under my skin.

His threats.

His looks full of disgust.

His intolerance towards the others.

His indifference towards Sophia.

Lori.

All this mixed together creates a deadly mix inside my head.

Dale sees the change in emotions in me and before he can grab me by the arm I'm already gone.

With my mind clouded by anger I march towards Shane ignoring the various gasps of the others and once I reach him I stand in front of him crossing my arms over my chest.

“What is your problem?”

Shane, who was looking down at his hands, raises his gaze to meet mine.

At first he seems confused, then, realizing that I was addressing him, he narrows his icy gaze and, standing up, he towers over me.

We exchange glances full of hatred and resentment.

His nostrils flare menacingly.

“Do you really want to know, kid?” he mocks me.

This only increases my anger, I dig my nails into the palms of my hands to keep them at bay.

Right now I just want to punch that know-it-all fucking face of his.

“Take it easy man” Rick murmurs as he takes a few steps closer.

I keep my gaze straight on Shane's.

I'm not afraid of him.

And I want him to know this.

“Yes, I want to know.Because we're here, trying to find that poor little girl and you almost seem annoyed, like you don't care.You're acting like we're just wasting our time” I hiss, barely containing all my disgust.

I feel like I'm losing the last bit of my mental clarity now.

Shane laughs in response, a laugh full of mockery and malice.

“That's the point kid.There is no us.You are not part of this group.Who gives you permission to get involved, huh?”

His words hurt me but I don't give them importance.

I know what he's trying to do.

He wants to cut me off.

He wants to convince others that I don't belong here.

Shane takes another step towards me, our bodies almost touch and that's when a large body positions itself between us.

“Step back” Daryl's voice is low, menacing.

It almost sounds like an animal growl roaring from deep in his chest.

The two men challenge each other.

Neither of them lowers their gaze.

Neither of them step back.

“That's enough, son” Dale intervenes trying to calm things down.

Andrea grabs Jimmy's upper arm pulling him back, away from the two men who seem ready to jump at each other's throats at any moment.

Finally Shane takes a step back but his hostile gaze remains focused on the archer's.

“You know what man, I didn't think it was enough for you that a little girl let you smell some pussy to make you turn your back to your people.To your family.Is the promise of a few fucks really enough to make you lose your mind?"

His words make me blush violently.

Daryl's arm muscles tighten, his biceps swell dangerously, his hands curl into menacing fists.

He takes a step forward, pressing his forehead threateningly against Shane's.

“Be careful with words, man.I'm not the one who loses his mind over a pussy.Ya know what I mean, righ'?”

No, oh no.

It can't happen.

I try to tame my instincts and approaching Daryl's back I seek his hand with mine.

I grab his large closed fist which slowly and trembling loosens and intertwines with mine.

With a small tug I pull him back under the amazed gaze of those present.

Taming a man like Daryl Dixon is almost impossible but strangely I succeed every time.

It's as if I'm the only one who can penetrate the anger that clouds his mind.

Rick's gaze bounces between the two men in confusion.

Obviously he doesn't know what they're talking about and I tremble at the thought that he might catch the hidden allusion in Daryl's words.

Lori needs to stay out of this whole thing.

I have the duty to protect her.

To protect her secret.

Her baby.

"Let's go.It's not worth it" I whisper to the only man I really care about.

With extreme difficulty Daryl turns his back on Shane, looking down at our still intertwined fingers.

His body trembles and his eyes close.

The tension seems to fade as Dale takes a step in our direction and places a hand on Daryl's shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“Yeah that's exactly what I mean!Get your bitch and get her out of here.This isn't her place”

The words shouted behind us by Shane trigger something in my head.

It's as if a blackout obscured all my rationality.

I see red.

The only thing I remember is letting go of Daryl's hand and lunging towards Shane with the handle of the knife gripped between my fingers.

A moment later Daryl's arms were wrapped around my waist.

I struggle trying to free myself, fighting against the incredible strength of the man behind me.

I grunt as nonsensical sounds leave my lips.

Guttural, almost animal sounds.

Shane doesn't step back at the sight of my knife, in fact he comes towards me as if he were ready to hit me back.

Rick steps in front of him, pressing both his hands on Shane's chest.

“C’mon Shane.Stop it!” he yells at him nervously.

“You're crazy!Let me tell you something bitch, sooner or later everyone will understand it and know they made a mistake welcoming you” Shane shouts trying to escape from the arms of Rick who is now behind him and holds him by the crooks of his elbows.

I try to free myself, shaking in the throes of pure madness.

I'm not afraid of him and if I have to use force to make him understand I won't back down.

The arms around my waist tighten more tightly.

Agitated steps sound behind me and after a few moments Glenn's face fills my entire field of vision.

“Summer” he murmurs in a worried tone, his big dark eyes darting towards the knife in my hand.

His hands are raised in my direction as if he was trying to disarm me.

Or as if he were afraid that I might hurt him.

This thought makes my anger subside.

“Calm down, Sunshine” the calm archer's voice vibrates in my ear, finally bringing me back to reality.

His arms are still wrapped around my waist as he lifts me just enough so my feet no longer touch the ground and drag me away.

I give up and stop struggling and, mortified, I look down when I meet Carol's worried eyes and Lori's panic-filled face.

Daryl moves quickly towards the stable and once we get there he sets me down making sure my feet are stable on the ground.

Remaining behind me, he continues to hold me, leaving only one arm to wrap around my waist while the other hand moves to rest in the crook of my elbow, sliding it along my arm until it reaches the hand that still holds the knife.

“Let it go, c'mon” he whispers extremely calmly.

My eyes rest on my hand tightened around the handle of the knife.

I watch his thick calloused fingers slip between mine, opening them gently.

The realization of my gesture hits me violently and the memory of what I have just done tightens my throat in a grip of shame and regret.

God, what have I done?

What will think of me the others?

Once the knife is no longer in my hands Daryl lets me go but my knees are shaking so much I can't stay upright.

I sag until I feel the hard ground beneath my knees.

In front of my eyes I see only Daryl's boots.

“Summer?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hiding my face in my hands.

I want to be alone.

I need to cry.

“Summer?”

His voice again.

I shake my head violently remaining silent.

From where we are it is impossible to hear the others.

Who knows what they'll be saying about me now.

What if they were really considering the idea of sending me away?

After all, I couldn't blame them.

My behavior is unstable.

I am emotionally unstable.

I come from a reality unknown to them.

I lived under a particular leadership when I was with him and perhaps I am not ready for civil coexistence.

I'm not ready to live in a place where decisions are made together.

In the days following the end of the entire civilized world I learned to obey.

To don't reply.

This outburst of mine is only the result of my mental distress.

Maybe he was right after all.

Your place is here, next to me.I will give you the world Summer but you must obey me.

“Summer?”

His voice again but this time his warm and strong hands wrap around my wrists and with disarming ease he manages to move them away from my face.

I observe him, while bent on his knees, he scans my entire face with his wonderful blue eyes, perhaps searching for some flash of madness.

“That's ok” he murmurs.

I look down guiltily.

I feel embarrassed.

“I'm sorry” are the only words I can murmur while I try with all my strength to hold back the tears.

“Ya have nothing to be sorry about.Shane is a prick”

His words vibrate with anger, it's like he's trying to keep himself calm just so I don't lose my mind again.

Pulling away from his grip I get back to my feet.

Angry again.

But this time with myself.

My body trembles as I cross my arms over my chest.

I hate the idea of letting someone like Shane provoke me.

“It's ok, sunshine”

“Please Daryl!Can you…could you stop repeating that?”

Even though it wasn't my intention, the words come out in anger.

I can't stop them.

I can't stop.

“It's not ok!It is not!What Shane said…”

The words die in my throat.

I can't maintain eye contact with the man in front of me so I decide that maybe the best thing to do is look at the tip of my boots.

I can still hear Shane's voice echoing in my head.

I really do not belong here.

And then the allusions about me and Daryl.

I feel my face burning with shame.

“Since when do ya give importance to that idiot's words?” the archer asks me.

I close myself in my silence, continuing to keep my gaze lowered.

“Summer?”

His sweet plea is followed by his fingers which, with a light pressure on my chin, invites me to look up.

His eyes, shining like two mirrors of crystalline water, study my every little movement.

“Since when do ya care?” he asks again.

Do I really care what Shane thinks about me?

No, of course I don't give a damn what he says or thinks.

The real problem is that I care what other people think.

Because all I want is to be accepted for who I am, for how I am.

But there's more...

“I don't care but...but I care about what you think”

The corner of his lips lifts, a hint of a smirk.

“Ya know what I think”

Do I really know what he thinks?

What if he just saw the promise of some messing around in me?

Am I really so blinded by the hunger for love, by the desperate desire to feel accepted, that I don't understand who I really have in front of me?

Would Daryl really be capable of something like that?

But I just need to look at his face to understand that.

No, he's not like that.

His fingers still firm on my chin are delicate, gentle.

His fingers slowly move up my cheek, gently touching my cheekbone.

I close my eyes as a trembling sigh leaves my parted lips.

I know I can trust him.

On the heated skin of my face I feel Daryl's hands resting on my cheeks with disarming delicacy, his thumbs move back and forth caressing my sun-torn skin.

“Summer”

His breath crashes on my face with the power of a tsunami.

My knees tremble slightly and to support myself I grab his wrists, squeezing them with more force than would be humanly acceptable but he doesn't complain about it.

He gives me time to find the strength and put the pieces back together.

I slowly open my eyes again, aware of who is in front of me but totally unprepared for his proximity.

I don't think my heart will ever get used to him.

I breathe slowly trying to synchronize my breathing with him.

I succeed but as soon as he cracks a smile it's the end again...my heart starts racing all over again.

We remain still for moments that seem infinite.

The skin in contact with his touch seems to burn as if it were exposed to a living flame.

His eyes burn into mine with such intensity that I almost forget how to breathe.

I watch him as he inhales deeply and slowly lets me go.

He shakes his head, a barely perceptible movement, as if he's trying to free himself from some troublesome thought.

He turns his back on me, leaving me shaken and trembling.

My eyes remain focused on his back as he places the saddle on the horse and with an agile gesture mounts it.

Grabbing the reins, with a light touch of the heel on the animal's belly he encourages it to move closer to me.

“Be careful” I murmur with a dry mouth, my voice coming out in a trembling whisper.

His eyebrows raise in confusion and then without saying a word he reaches out his hand towards me.

“What?” I ask, not being able to understand what he wants from me.

"Ya come with me.Isn't that wha' you wanted?” he replies amused by the confusion on my face.

Does he really want me to go with him?

Even after what happened?

And the others?

Is Rick still okay with it?

I shift uncomfortably in place.

“I don't know if this is a good idea, Daryl” I murmur, bringing my index finger to my lips and nibbling at the tip.

Maybe it's best for me to stay here so I don't give Shane an excuse to pick on Daryl again.

The man shakes his head.

“Nope.No way.Ya will come with me.I won't leave ya here with Shane”

I shrug feigning indifference even though the thought of being alone with him scares me, all my courage seems to have evaporated completely.

But it is also true that Daryl cannot always be by my side and sooner or later I will have to clash with that man again.

“You can't protect me forever, you know that?” I say in defeat, accepting the hand he offers me but remaining still.

Wait a moment.

How the hell do I get on a horse?

“What's up now, pretty eyes?”

“How the hell am I supposed to get on this?” I ask laughing.

Daryl stares at me for a few moments, I'm unable to understand whether the situation irritates or amuses him and then...then for the first time I see him laugh.

Really laugh.

And my heart stops.

Literally.

If up until now I thought he was simply beautiful, now I have to change my mind.

Daryl laughing is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

His relaxed face, his eyes surrounded by many small wrinkles that I would kiss one by one.

“Ya such a city girl” he says, shaking his head with still a shadow of a smile on his lips.

“I'll take it as a compliment” I mutter trying to sound angry even though his cheerfulness infects me making me smile.

His grip around my fingers tightens.

“Put yer foot in the stirrup and give yourself a little push.I'll take care of the rest, okay?”

One moment.

In the position I am in I will find myself sitting in front of him.

I feel my face colouring with embarrassment.

“C'mon Summer”

“Yeah…I-I-I…ok” I stammer in response to his prodding.

I do as he tells me and after a moment I find myself astride the beautiful horse with Daryl behind me.

His broad chest presses against my back.

I feel a shiver run through my body.

I sink my hands into the soft mane trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.

If I don't die at the hands of a damned walker I will certainly die because of my poor stressed heart.

Daryl's hands grab the reins and we finally set off.

We move away from the farm quickly, reaching the highest point from which we could have a better view of the area.

The slow and steady pace makes us sway so I try to stay as still as possible without rubbing too much against the archer's surprisingly welcoming body.

His breath on the back of my neck confuses my thoughts, often making me lose clarity.

His arms touch my hips in an almost hypnotic way.

So I try to focus all my thoughts on Sophia.

It's for her that I'm here.

I have to focus.

Everything seems calm around us.

No sign of walkers at the moment.

Only the rustling of leaves and the clatter of hooves on the ground.

I let my gaze wander everywhere trying to grasp even just the slightest detail that could lead us back to the little girl we are desperately looking for.

I snort impatiently.

"Wha' happens?"

Daryl's voice makes me jump.

I was so focused that for a moment I forgot who I was with.

“We've been wandering for a while now” I confess, letting defeat show in my voice.

“We just have to move forward.We'll find somethin'”

I nod at his words, returning to observe the river below us.

Suddenly my gaze is caught by a small object.

An object that shouldn't even be here.

“Daryl!Look!” I call him with an excited voice.

“Whoa” he exclaims.

The man pulls the reins towards himself, causing the horse's pace to stop.

“What?”

“Look over there!”

Here we are.

Maybe a clue.

I turn my head looking over my shoulder.

His gaze is focused on the point I am pointing to.

His head is tilted slightly to the side and his eyes are carefully scanning the bank of the river below and when he sees it too his eyes dilate in amazement.

“Shit!” he exclaims, immediately dismounting from the horse's back and grabbing a rope, tying it to the nearest tree.

“Let's go” he whispers, stretching his arms towards me to help me.

His hands grab my hips and I, holding on to his biceps, turn my torso in his direction, descending quickly.

His face grazes my breast as I descend, making me vibrate like a violin string.

I'm trying to regain some clarity, now is not the time to let myself be distracted like this.

Holding on to the trunks of the trees surrounding us, we quickly descend towards the river bank.

“Be careful” he murmurs and I nod in response.

Daryl is the first to reach our destination.

"What is this?" I ask reaching him and peeking from behind his arm.

Daryl leans forward, grabbing what appears to be a rag doll.

“Is it Sophia's?” I ask with a heart full of hope.

Please God let it be Sophia's.

The archer nods slightly, turning his face in my direction.

I can't help but smile brightly.

Thanks God!

Daryl looks around scanning the entire area.

I mimic his gestures.

“Sophia!” I scream followed immediately by him.

If she made it this far there's a big chance she's still alive.

Poor little girl, she will be terrified.

I think back to when I was alone, lost in these woods.

Instinctively my eyes fill with tears.

Behind me I hear Daryl's heavy footsteps approaching me.

“Let's go!She can't be far away” he says grabbing my hand.

Together we return to the horse and resume our search.

My heart beats wildly, the emotion of finally being so close to Sophia gives me a sweet sensation that I haven't felt for a long time.

Hope.

Birds squawk in front of us, making the horse nervous.

“Whoa.Easy, easy” Daryl gently hushes the horse.

I hold on tightly to the saddle to keep my balance.

“Sophia!” I call again but the little girl's name dies in my throat.

Suddenly the horse whinnies and fidgets nervously.

It seems that something has frightened the horse causing it to step back dangerously.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa” Daryl mutters under his breath as he grips and pulls the reins hard.

But in vain.

The horse rears up on its legs, throwing us violently.

Everything happens quickly.

Daryl falls, dragging me with him.

We both roll to the ground and fall down the cliff.

I can't understand anything.

All I feel is my head hitting something fucking hard.

On impact I bite my tongue between my teeth, blood filling my mouth as my vision blurs.

My fall stops and I find myself inside the river.

Wet and panting, I remain still, trying to catch my breath and waiting for my vision to return to normal.

Not far from me I can hear grunts of pain.

Daryl.

Slowly I get on all fours and with my vision still blurry I look for my partner.

I spit out the blood that continues to pour from my mouth, putting my hand to my forehead.

When I look at my fingers they are covered in blood.

Damn.

I'll think about it later.

Now I have to make sure Daryl is okay.

Trembling and scared I try to get back on my feet, my knees are shaking but I can't stop.

Not now.

A few steps away from me Daryl is dragging himself towards the riverbank.

He looks hurt.

The water around him is turning a worryingly intense crimson.

He is injured.

Suddenly I no longer feel any pain, any fear.

I'm only focused on him.

Every bit of my strength is concentrated in my muscles, thus finding the strength necessary to support the man.

Daryl lies on his back with his hands pressed to the left side of his body.

An arrow comes out of his side.

I feel panic crawling in my stomach but I force myself not to freak out, I can't let fear take over me.

I have to help him.

“Hey!Hey!Hey!” I cough, spitting out a few drops of blood.

My hands roam frantically over his face.

His features are contorted in a grimace of pain.

“It's going to be okay, Daryl.I'm here” I whine running a hand over his face.

The blood that continues to flow from the wound on my forehead prevents me from seeing clearly.

“Ya good?” the man pants, touching my wounded forehead with the tips of his fingers.

“Ya are bleeding”

I shake my head vigorously dismissing his concern for me.

“Forget about it.Now we have to think about getting out of this mess, okay?”

My voice trembles even though I forced myself to remain calm.

I must be strong.

I have to do it for him.

“You have already taken care of me.Now it's my turn to save your ass” I giggle through the tears.

I can't let anything happen to him.

Not to him.

Not Daryl.

I help him sit down again.

He's bleeding too much.

I take off my shirt, tearing off one end and tying the rest around my waist.

The tank top I'm wearing is soaked in water and the light breeze blowing on the riverbank makes me shiver.

“This is going to hurt” I warn him, wrapping the piece of cloth around his waist.

He nods, clenching his jaw and with all my strength I pull, knotting the fabric around his body.

Daryl hisses.

“I know, I know.I'm sorry”

Tears mix with blood.

“I'm so sorry” I repeat, sniffling.

Daryl brings a hand to my upper arm, squeezing it weakly.

“It's ok.Everythin' will be fine” he grunts trying to reassure me.

I nod energetically even as a sob violently shakes my chest.

Our gazes meet, linking each other.

“I know, I know” I whine.

My bloody hands cup his face and for no logical reason I place my lips on his.

It's a short contact.

Just a few moments.

His soft, wet lips are still against mine.

I pull his face away from me finding his eyes wide open.

“I won't let you die.I won't allow it” I state with absolute conviction.

I'll die trying if I have to.

Daryl won't die.

Even though my head is spinning I stand up again trying to think of a way to get us out of this mess.

We have to get back to the farm.

And quickly.

I grab a stick not far from my feet and bending down on my knees again I offer it to the archer.

“Ok, now you have to get back on your feet.Do you think you can do it?”

His blue eyes stare at me intently.

I know what he's thinking.

It's the same thought I'm trying to repress with all my strength.

The kiss.

Maybe I did it to console him.

Or maybe because I needed to be reassured.

Why the hell I did it, I don't even know...and I don't intend to think about it at the moment.

It was irrational, I know, but I couldn't contain myself.

With extreme caution Daryl grabs the stick and with my support he finally gets up.

I wrap my arm around his hips being careful not to touch the injured side.

A rustling in the bushes attracts our attention.

I try to sharpen my hearing to understand if it is a threat.

“Ma’ crossbow”

“I'll take care of it” I immediately interrupt him by letting go of my grip on him and immersing myself in the water.

The water's river laps my body up to my waist while I feel the bottom with my hands to find the weapon.

After a few minutes I feel the object of my search between my fingers and with great difficulty I bring it back to the shore.

This gives me proof of the unprecedented strength of this man.

This thing weighs a lot.

With a nod of my head I indicate the cliff, carefully and with considerable effort placing the crossbow on my back.

“We have to use the roots and trunks as handholds, okay?” I suggest staying at his side and paying every bit of attention to his movements.

Daryl seems to think about it for a few moments then nods.

Our heavy breaths accompany our every step.

I focus my attention on Daryl, on his pale face.

I am afraid.

With every grunt from him my heart skips a beat.

One step after another we reach the halfway point.

I'm a few steps ahead.

“Come on Daryl, we're halfway.Hold on" I pant, turning slightly towards him who stopped I think to catch his breath.

I watch him as with a big sigh he lifts himself up again, grabbing a root in his hands but suddenly his feet slip, losing his grip on the ground.

I watch him helplessly and horrified as he falls again.

No.

No, no, no.

Being careful not to slip, I also quickly go down, reaching him.

I kneel next to him, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Daryl!Daryl!” I shake him hard but his eyes don't open.

Shit!

I free myself from the weight of the crossbow by placing it next to his body and I place my ear on his chest, even if it is faint I can perceive his heartbeat.

I look around lost and scared.

I could go back to the farm to get help but the mere thought of leaving him alone and defenseless makes me shudder.

No.

I have to find another solution.

I look at his wound which, despite my clumsy bandaging, continues to bleed.

His eyes move quickly under his closed eyelids and distorted, slurred words that I can't make out come from his lips.

It's like he's talking to someone.

I have no other choice, the situation is getting worse by the minute.

I have to take out the arrow and bandage him up properly.

I take a deep breath and grab the arrow with both hands and start pulling with all my strength.

At first Daryl remains still but then his barely audible moans turn into an actual scream.

He wiggles his hands trying to push me away, I move backwards and away from his hands while continuing to pull.

I pull until the arrow comes out of his body with a sloppy pop, knocking me onto my back in the water.

Daryl complains, coughing violently, and when I lift my head to make sure he's okay I see a walker coming towards us.

I try to grab my knife but immediately remember I don't have it with me.

It must have remained in Daryl's possession after he slipped it out of my hand back at the farm.

The archer is still lying on the ground so I'll have to take care of it.

I sit up, with slow and uncoordinated movements I grab a sharp stone and wait for him to come closer.

The walker limps closer until he reaches my feet where he bends forward to try to grab my ankle.

I bend my knee towards my chest and with all my strength I drive the sole of my boot into the center of his chest sending him to the ground.

Quickly I get up and position myself astride him, I hit him straight in the head with the stone I had found shortly before.

I hit him until his skull cracks under my fury.

I pant heavily as I drop my improvised weapon but a moment later something falls on me.

I find myself immersed in the water with another walker's jaw a few inches from my face.

I didn't even hear him coming.

I put my arm between us, pressing it against his throat, keeping him from reaching my face.

His breath, which smells of death, makes me retch a little.

His face is grey, one of his eye sockets is empty revealing his putrid interior to me.

His teeth click convulsively as he bites the air waiting to grasp my flesh.

I have nothing to defend myself with.

If I let go of him I'll end up getting bitten.

My arms begin to give out, I feel my strength fading.

I try desperately to push him away by pressing my head back to avoid his rotten teeth.

Then a hiss cutting the air and the tip of an arrow coming out of the walker's forehead.

His rotten body falls heavy onto mine finally giving me the chance to push him and roll away.

I find myself on all fours when two hands grab me by the shoulders.

I struggle screaming until I hear his voice.

“It's me.It's me.It's over” Daryl gasps as he helps me up.

Instinctively I hug him, burying my head in his chest.

His hands caress my back reassuringly.

“Ya good?” he asks me worried.

In response I nod, rubbing my face on his broad chest, losing myself in the warmth of his embrace.

Daryl grabs me by the shoulders, moving me away from his body, his hands lift to my face, wandering over it, brushing my hair aside and then moving down towards my arms, perhaps looking for some wound or bite.

“How are you?I'm sorry about the arrow” I whisper, feeling guilty for causing him more pain by removing the arrow from his body.

"It's a bolt. Not an arrow” he smiles weakly.

I grab his hands, thus interrupting his search all over my body.

He looks horrible, even though he is covered in blood and mud, the paleness on his face is too visible.

We need to find help.

I grab what's left of my shirt and make another bandage for his wound, then I grab his crossbow again and place it on my back.

He is too weak and I can't let him waste his strength.

Daryl's eyes don't leave me even for a moment, following my every gesture.

“Let's go” I tell him softly, wrapping my arm around his waist again and putting his weight on my side.

Slowly we start climbing the cliff again until we reach the top sweaty and exhausted.

“Rest for a moment” I pant, resting my shoulder against a tree without ever letting go of my grip on him.

“Why didn't ya leave me here?Ya could have run away”

My head snapped in his direction so violently that for a moment I thought my neck might break.

Daryl looks down.

I snort impatiently looking at the beautiful profile of the archer.

His eyes immediately find mine, intrigued by my reaction.

“I will take you to the farm even if it is the last thing I do in my life”

“Why?”

“Don't be ridiculous, please.Now save your breath and move your ass.We have a long journey ahead of us"

I smile at him trying to reassure him.

Why the hell does he think these things?

Does he really think I could ever leave him here to die?

In silence and with a shuffling step we start to walk.

“Thanks” Daryl murmurs after a while.

I smile shaking my head.

“You don't have to thank me for anything.I...I care about you.And I'll have your back forever.I want you to know this”

Embarrassed I look for his gaze.

His eyes, the same shade as the summer sky, stare at me in disbelief.

I feel the urgent need to reassure him.

It's absurd that a rough and brave man like him needs reassurance.

“I'm deadly serious.I always have your back”

Daryl nods as if he's fighting his own mind.

“I will always have yer back too, pretty eyes”

I raise a corner of my lips trying to contain the explosion of joy that his words bring to me.

The sun is behind us when in the distance we can make out the outlines of the farm.

I'm so happy I could cry.

I am tired.

My head is pounding.

The crossbow strap cuts into the skin of my neck.

And as much as Daryl tries not to weigh too much on me, I can barely hold him up anymore.

Dragging ourselves for the last steps we see someone running towards us.

Thank God!

Finally someone who can help us.

“Hold on Daryl” I reassure him, tightening my grip around his waist and putting his weight on my hip once again.

The archer grunts, his head almost lolling on his chest and Sophia's doll clutched in one hand.

I didn't even realize he still had it until we got back on the trail.

The first to reach us is Rick, followed by Shane, T-dog and Glenn.

I suddenly stop walking, struck by the officer's weird gesture.

I let go of Daryl and stand protectively in front of his body.

Rick is pointing his gun at us.

“They're Daryl and Summer” Glenn exclaims.

His eyes scan me from head to toe, a worried frown creases his gentle face.

Daryl raises an arm, pointing a finger at Rick.

“That's the third time ya've pointed tha' thin' at my head.Ya gonna pull the trigger or wha'?”

Rick lowers his gun with a half smile on his face as everyone else relaxes.

Glenn rests his hands on his knees sighing in relief.

We exchange a smile.

I turn away from the others to reach Daryl's side and help him take the last steps towards our safety.

But all of a sudden something hits me.

A searing pain takes my breath away, causing me to collapse to my knees.

It's like a deja vu.

Me arriving at the farm, kneeling in front of Daryl.

I put my hand to my right collarbone and when I look down all I see is blood.

Behind me I hear the confused shouts of Rick and Glenn.

I look up in front of me away from all that blood.

The first thing I see is Daryl's face.

His big blue eyes are wide and full of horror.

“Daryl”

Mine is a strangled whisper.

In my head I see everything going in slow motion.

The blood.

Daryl's eyes.

And then the pain.

A pain so fierce that it forced me onto all fours.

When I open my eyes again I am lying on the ground and my head lies on the archer's lap.

His arms hold me against his body.

“Stay with me, sunshine.Stay with me”

His voice is full of panic.

I would like to talk.

Tell him something.

Tell him I would do anything in the world to stay here with him.

I am also willing to fight against this pain that takes my breath away.

But the words don't come out.

I look up and Shane's face is right in front of mine, his arms are stretched out towards me as if he wants to take me into his arms.

I know he has no bad intentions but I squirm impercelessly.

Daryl tightens his grip on me, pushing Shane away roughly.

“Don't fuckin' touch her” he shouts with anger.

Shane raises his hands in front of him in surrender, looking worriedly over his shoulder.

I feel like I'm about to lose consciousness.

“Daryl” I murmur scared.

Rick approaches us.

“Brother you have to let her go.I'll take care of her.We need to get her to Hersel right away.Trust me” the former officer speaks slowly without however managing to hide his agitated look.

Daryl nods slightly as he loosens his grip on my body.

Rick scoops me in his arms.

Other voices add to the chaos around me but now I can no longer understand who them belong to.

I only hear Rick's voice whispering encouraging words in my ear.

“Hold on Summer.Please.Please don't die”

And then the darkness.

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@deansapplepie @celtic-crossbow

[mcdonaldsfics]

LATE NIGHT SNACK.

→ Nutritional facts﹕Sasha x Female Reader.

→ Ingredients﹕| Angst + Fluff. | After Sasha gets dumped whilst pregnant with Niccolo's baby it's up to Y/n to take care of her beloved best friend and roommate.

→ Allergen info﹕Mentions of shitty Niccolo, mentions of EMA only once, Sasha has a terrible family, slut-shaming, pregnant roommate Sasha, caring Y/n, thoughtful and smart Sasha, she's her usual hungry-self.

→ Pick-up for﹕@punkologist 's sapphic event. + Word count is around 1k.

→ Side note﹕This is my first fanfic please be nice, and English isn't my first language sorry for mistakes. Please enjoy!

It's been four months since your roommate has announced her pregnancy, you were bursting with excitement for her thrilled to see a new baby around the place.

You didn't mind much at all wholeheartedly, the two of you have a guest bedroom which was rarely ever used so Sasha politely discussed with you that she wanted to turn it into her baby's room to which you happily complied.

The first month of your roommate's pregnancy things were running smooth as marble floors, until one evening you had just came from work loudly strutting your heels your way into a colorful baby's clothing store faintly smiling as you snatched as much gender neutral looking shirts and pants that you could find from off the shelves.

Sasha had explained "I want to collect as much clothes as I can until I actually know what gender they are!" Although many people clamoured at her calling her obtuse for this choice, you'd harshly disagree with a shrug saying it's an intelligent decision mindlessly thinking your hand reached out for a pastel yellow dress that caught your eye.

Even though it was clearly something for a little girl, one dress couldn't hurt Sasha. That name rang in your ears, Sasha, almost as if thinking about her happened to summon her on your phone because out of nowhere your phone started to obnoxiously sing the annoying xylophone ringtone.

Quickly stabbing each airpod into your ear before you answered you finally swiped right to accept her call, strangely enough you could hear her having a near mental breakdown on the other end of the phone it wasn't impossible for you to imagine streams of tears crashing down her face, her face red from hours of crying, next to a box of half empty tissues.

You took a deep cold breath setting your shopping bags down heading to a small corner in the back of the girls section calmly asking Sasha "What's wrong?" Whilst she hiccupped a couple of times exhaling, and inhaling in an attempt to collect herself before speaking.

"Niccolo, he..." Sasha started with a painful shaky voice, yet continued on "He dumped me," somehow you were even able to sense the frown on her face, "Why?" You questioned.

"I dunno we were fine a couple of minutes ago until we got into an argument and he admitted to cheating on me, whilst being pregnant with his baby." Sasha crunched on a bag of crisps, basically eating her sorrows away, or was that just her usual being overly hungry? Either way a frown grew upon her face upset with her entire situation.

Sasha began to sob again half-whispering what she was about to say "He told me I wasn't attractive enough with my nose slightly swollen, and now that I'm not skinny anymore."

From that day on you swore to protect her plus provide the care and support she didn't have, given that you were all she had left in her life besides the rest of your friends such as Mikasa, Eren, and Armin, but her family refused to have anything to do with Sasha after she announced being pregnant slut shaming her in front of her siblings wailing that she brought dishonour upon the family for having a baby without marriage.

Except by providing you weren't expecting to be shaken up out of your sleep at three am, sweating like a pig in the hot dry summer air. "Y/n, Y/n, wake up please." Sasha pleaded, her arms rolling your body back and forth. "McDonald's is open, wanna go get some chicken nuggets?" She asked patting down her grumpy tummy.

"Sash, it's 3 in the morning." You complain letting her know it's way too late to go outside in the unforgiving dark.

"And...?" Your roommate sassily responded popping her way to the door putting on her slippers whilst waiting for you to follow her there.

In which you only sighed "Let's go." Before grabbing your keys hopping in your car driving Sasha to her favourite restaurant happily nodding when she decided to talk your ear off the entire ride. You enjoyed listening to Sasha speak even if you swore your ear would be melted off by the time she was done.

Once you both was finally there you assisted her out of the car and held her hand walking into McDonald's. Allowing her to order everything off the menu knowing she has a baby who's probably driving her to be hungry too, Sasha got a few meals plus some desserts waiting to pick up whilst you sat somewhere to save her a table.

After what seemed like years Sasha skipped to where you were with a large tray of food packed in every inch of it; fries attempted to escape as well. Of course when she sat down she ate like she's been starving for four years starting with the double double McExtreme bbq bourbon egg taking a bite the size of a dinosaur's mouth.

Wiping the sides of her mouth from the bbq sauce Sasha noticed you weren't eating with her, she couldn't just eat in front of you so she decided to flip the tray horizontally moving a cup of fries, a burger, and strawberry tart on your side grabbing a fork stabbing the spongy cake with it "Here Y/n, eat it's really delicious!" Sasha proposed joyfully holding one hand under the fork so no crumbs would drop onto the freshly clean table.

You sighed, resting one hand on your cheek at the sweet offer pleased Sasha even thought about you and your hunger while carrying a child causing you to blurt out your feelings for her "Would this be a bad time to say I love you?"

———————————————————