#but I’ll give him some baby traits here and there

[smilesrobotlover]

I am in love with your link between Links Hyrule. He's just the cutest, sweetest thing and the character design is immaculate. The details on his wings are so intricate and gorgeous, and I don't care if his hair is "weird," it looks good on him! Every time I read your posts about him, I have to appreciate the amount of thought you put into him, because you have a reason for every decision you made on why he is the way that he is. I'm just soaking it all up over here because that's the stuff.

Fhkdbdkdbdkd thank you so much aaahh 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺 I love Hyrule so much he’s like, my fav boy rn. I put a lot of thought into his story, which is funny cuz his story is the most vague out of all the Links! He’s just my little sgrugly. He’s my baby. I love him sm fr

[cutielando]

driving around | l.n.

synopsis: in which you're too stubborn for your own good

a/n: thank you so much @rayaharper for requesting this !!❤️

my masterlist

“You’re not driving”

“Why not??” 

“You’re sick, I’m not risking putting you behind the wheel just because you’re stubborn”

You had been bickering like this for nearly 10 minutes now, neither of you wanting to compromise for the other. 

It’s not like you were that sick, you were coughing a bit, with a runny nose, sore muscles and a little temperature. You were basically fine and good to go.

But Lando didn’t agree on that.

He blamed what he called the “Verstappen stubborn gene.” He always made fun of you and your brother, Max, for sharing that stubborn trait that he hated so much.

It was also because he was a stubborn person as well, which meant that you would oftentimes clash regarding pretty much everything.

Just like you were doing now.

You were insisting to drive you and Lando to the track so he could get some more rest and the boy was having none of it.

“Just because I’m a little sick doesn’t mean I’m incapable of driving, Lando” you complained, rolling your eyes which hurt right in your sinuses.

That should have been the first sign to stop you from being so adamant to drive, but you weren’t about to give up so easily.

“Little sick? You’ve been burning up for 2 days and can barely get any sleep without waking up in cold sweat. You hardly eat anything and your sinuses are clogged” he reasoned, making you look at him.

He was right. Everything he was saying was the truth.

But it still didn’t sway you.

“It’s just a cold, I can manage just fine” you said before opening the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Lando sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hates how stubborn you were at times, and he knew that his attempts to get you to let him drive would be in vain.

With that being said, he just sighed once again and got into the passenger seat.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t condone this and I’m really not okay with you driving in this state” he said once he buckled up, tracking your every movement with his eyes.

“Babe, I’ll be fine. It’s just a short ride, it’s not like I’ll be driving for hours” you attempted to soothe him, but it clearly wasn’t working.

He only hummed and looked back at the road, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

As you started the relatively short drive from your hotel and towards the track, you could slowly feel your eyes burning, the soreness in your muscles escalating with each minute and your headache coming in strong.

It was in those moments that you knew he had been right and you shouldn’t have insisted on driving. You could feel nausea coming quickly onto your body, making you swallow harshly in order to tame it for now.

You had barely made it to the track safely, Lando already knowing that you would be way too tired to even watch the race after this.

“I told you so” he said, standing beside you as you weakly managed to get out of the car.

You glared at him, the movement hurting your sinuses even more. 

“I just wanted you to get some more rest before we got here” you said, pouting at him with glossy eyes.

He sighed when he looked at you, bringing you into his arms right away. He kissed your forehead, frowning once he felt how hot you were and saw how sick you actually looked.

“I know you did, but baby, you’re sick. I don’t want to rest when you’re feeling like this, I want to take care of you. And I can’t do that when you argue with me and put me on the spot for wanting to help you” he said, gently trying to make you see that he only wanted what was best for you.

Deep down, you knew you had been wrong, and right now in Lando’s arms, you realized just how much you had needed his warmth and his hug.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn” your voice was small, but he still heard you.

“Come on, let’s get you to hospitality and find some medicine and a quiet place to rest for you” he let go of you and opened the door to take your bags, taking your hand and leading you to the McLaren hospitality.

He manages to avoid the paparazzi on the way to the motorhome, keeping you close to his body.

Once you got to the motorhome, Jon was waiting for Lando there, his eyebrows instantly furrowing once he saw the state you were in.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jon asked Lando once he sat you down at a table and wrapped his jacket around your body.

Lando sighed, looking back at how you were practically sleeping on the chair before he turned around to talk to his trainer.

“She’s been sick for the past few days and today she insisted on driving us to the track even when I told her she’s too sick to drive. We just barely got here okay because she got worse on the road” he explained, his voice hushed as he kept stealing glances at his passed out girlfriend.

“Have you talked to her doctor or something?” Jon asked worriedly, caring for you just as much as Lando ever since the two of you were introduced.

Lando nodded. “I did, she said we should just wait for it to pass, that she should get plenty of rest and shouldn’t do much, but you know how she is” he explained further.

“You have one stubborn girlfriend, mate” Jon joked, bumping his shoulder in order to help the driver relax.

Lando chuckled, nodding knowingly. 

Just as he was about to say something else, you whined as you started to wake up, trying to wrap the jacket even tighter around your body.

“Lan?” your voice was small, your eyes slowly blinking open.

“I’m here, baby. Come on, let’s get you to a room where you can rest up. Jon will look after you” he said while picking you up bridal style.

The three of you made your way upstairs to a free room, Lando immediately bundled you up in your blankets that he brought for you and helped you take your medicine.

Even in your current state, somewhere between reality and sleep, you realized just how much you needed to rest and how truly sick you were.

“Thank you for taking care of me and sorry for insisting on driving today” you said when he finished fussing over you and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

Lando shook his head, brushing a strand of your hair from your eyes.

“Don’t apologize, just get some rest and I’ll see you after practice, okay?” you nodded, settling into the tiny bed and allowing yourself to succumb to your sleep.

Lando left you in the room partly against his will, but with the reassurance that Jon would take care of you while he was in the car.

And, at the end of the day, he was always going to take care of you, no matter what.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[alwaysshallow]

Isa baby please can we have ghost be told NO for some work stuff by higher ranked! Reader and him to be like

🤪🤪 why does this make me horny 🤪🤪

You’re mad as hell.

You should say something to him after ordering him to go to your office, you know it. You should address all the things that irritate you right now, but you physically can’t bring yourself to it—not when your desire is to bite into his throat. It’s not leader-ish, it’s not you since you never scream at your team. Yet, you have to clench your fists, so they won’t land on his pretty face.

“Won’t you even look at me?” he asks, and somehow it makes you even more mad at him. A low laugh escapes your mouth, as you shake your head with disbelief. His audacity is fucking insane.

As you look up at him, you can’t help but notice the way he just smirks under that simple balaclava he has. It’s almost arrogant in a way, like he’s completely unfazed by your emotions and what he did.

"You disobeyed my orders," you speak up, slowly, deliberately—it’s the only way of speaking that won’t have you screaming at him. “Then, you proceed to lead the entire team under your command, even if I told you otherwise.”

His brown eyes harden a little, but he’s not less amused, as he takes a step forward in your direction. "I did what I thought fit for the situation," Simon says. Riley’s tone is insistent, not leaving a pole in a discussion; a great leader trait, you'd normally think of it.

But right now, this tone makes you furious because he’s not the leader. He’s someone that should obey, someone that shouldn’t even question your choices on the battlefield since you are the one giving orders. Not him.

“Right. Completely putting people at risk, instead of backing out despite we had everything,” you grit through your teeth. The next words you want to say are tough, so you clean your throat and take a deep breath before actually saying them. “You’re off the mission.”

The atmosphere between you two can be cut with the knife. Not only he doesn’t speak to you for a good minute, but he looks at you with a confused look in his eyes. “What the fuck?”

Of course he’d react this way, you think. Nothing new, nothing surprising—at least not with Simon Riley. “I can’t have you sabotaging my mission because you did something that fit the situation.”

“Sabotaging your mission,” he laughs. You lean against the wall when he takes another few steps in your direction, and you tilt your head at him for a better view. “It fits the situation because ‘m savin’ your bloody ass, colonel.”

“I don’t remember asking for it.” You furrow your eyebrows, trying to calm down. It’s hard enough with being mad at him, but even harder when he's chest to chest proximity, towering over you.

“You don’t have to ask. I’ll do it anyway, whether you want it or not.” He shrugs; for a moment, your words die in your throat.

Whether you want it or not.

You shouldn’t feel so hot and bothered right now. Yet, you can’t really help it, as he leans down to your eye level, so you don’t have to have your chin up anymore.

“Should take you off missions with me, then?” you ask. It’s obvious that the question startles him a bit, as he scoffs.

“You can’t do that, love. Wouldn’t do you any good, would it?”

“As far as I remember, I call the shots. Not you, so I’d be careful.”

He hums, completely ignoring the slight warning in your words; his eyes drop to your lips, like he doesn’t care about anything you said before. “I want to kiss you.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat radiating all over your face. “I could have you suspended for insubordination right here, right now, lieutenant, and you think about—”

You don’t get to finish that sentence, as he pulls his balaclava a little over his nose and he pushes his lips into yours. Forceful kiss at first, evolves into the mutual battle of domination; maybe it’s the rank type of thing considering how eagerly you fight, but you can’t do it for long. Not when his hands lands on your hips and your back hits the wall

“I don’t think,” he pants out, his lips still against yours, “that you get how I care about you. You want to piss me off and send me off the mission? Do it. But I’ll be here anyway.”

“I could call the general on you,” you squeak weakly, as he picks you up and sits you on your desk.

“Then fuckin’ do it,” he growls, looking into your eyes—you do not look away, under any circumstances. It would only grow his ego bigger. “No one could protect you like I do. I’m on your command and you like it.”

The evident cockiness in his voice has you trembling, not to mention the lips on your cleavage, as he kisses the skin here. “On my command? You’d do whatever I want you to do?”

He smirks, lazily. “Isn’t that what I just said, love?”

You bite your lip more; it’s gonna be a bloody mess here in a minute, but you can’t care less right now. “Take off the mask,” you say. He tilts his head like a puppy, confused, as his back straightens. “You’re not fucking with me with this thing on.”

And oh, how quickly he throws his balaclava behind him, not even caring about where it lands. It's just your words that get him, the way you're so sure when you say it. It doesn't take him long to get rid of your pants either, kneeling right in front of you.

"'m gonna take," he murmurs to your thigh, gnawing at the skin, "such a good care of you, love. Gonna make this pussy all mine."

It takes one swipe of his tongue to know that he's right.

[inkdrinkerworld]

autistic!reader getting overwhelmed/overstimulated at a party w dealer!remus’ friends so remus ditches the party to comfort them (i love your writing sm btw❤️)

You’re not sure what exactly was the tipping point that sent you from mild discomfort to overt discomfort and agitation.

You’re at a party with Remus, sitting in the living room with your phone in your hand as you scrolled through your photos and a couple random apps to pass the time it took Remus to sell to all his friends here.

Usually, you’re good about bringing your ear plugs, and they’d work but even though you don’t have them tonight, you know they’d have been useless.

You can smell an acrid mixture of beer, white rum and weed. You can feel the bass shake you down to your bones and whoever’s sofa this is, it’s the lumpiest thing you’ve ever sat on and the moment you became aware of the lumps there was no use in trying to forget it.

You want to go home but you don’t want to ruin Remus’ night. As inconspicuous as you can, you send him a text.

Going outside to get some air, the smell of alcohol is too much.

Remus texts back, Don’t go out by yourself, I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes.

Maybe you should’ve been clearer, you’re not sure if you can hold out for five minutes.

“You look like someone just told you they imprisoned another orca.” Sirius creeps up on you, making you jump where you’re sitting.

“Sorry, the smell in here is horrid.” Sirius laughs, always having been a fan for your inability to lie. You don’t need to be sheepish around him, come to think of it, none of Remus’ friends mind some of your less than sociable traits.

“Did you phone, Moony? You know he’ll take you home if you aren’t having a good time.”

You shrug, “What if he’s having a good time?”

Sirius doesn’t want to be the one to tell you, because he’s sure you’re somewhat aware already; but Remus could never be having a good time if you weren’t. It’s like your emotions are linked and if you’re not enjoying yourself, Remus will simply rearrange the Earth, till you were.

Sirius is saved from having to give you the rundown, when Remus appears, sponging a kiss to your forehead.

For someone who’s been selling weed and smoking it for as long as he has been, Remus never really smells like that burnt, sweet smell his weed has. He smells like citrus fruit and clove. Spicy and tart.

It grounds you, gives you something else to focus on. Something that’s familiar, fresh and grounding. It settles the itch in your veins and allows you to relax a little.

“Ready to go?” When you look at him, Remus has your bag on his shoulder and your jacket in his hands.

“Home?” You ask, Sirius not even bothering to hide his smile as Remus nods.

“Yeah, figured it was getting a little much. We’ve been here longer than I thought we’d be too.”

It’s just like your boyfriend, to make it so that what you want, to go home, doesn’t seem like it’s being forced on him. In truth, Remus would like to leave too, and he wasn’t lying. He’d only planned for you both to be here an hour or two.

“Are you sure?”

Sirius pats your knee as he leaves, knowing you’re both going to be headed home.

“Positive, dovey. C’mon,” Remus leads you out of the house, watching your shoulders drop as soon as the crisp, cool air of a coming spring fills your lungs. “Put on the sweater, baby. Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You smile a little to yourself as Remus helps you into the sweater. “Thanks Remmy.”

You’re thanking him for more than just the sweater, but Remus rolls his eyes. He tips your chin up, nose bumping your own before he kisses you.

“Let’s go precious girl, we might be able to stop at that pizza place you like if we hurry.”

[kaciidubs]

Binnie's Baby Bun

❣ Summary: Ever since you announced your pregnancy to your husband, his loving treatment skyrocketed to lengths you never believed were possible. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 797 ❣ Warnings: Husband! Changbin, Pregnant! Reader, pregnancy [early stages], fluff, light implied smut, baby bumps, overall cuteness ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Changbin is referred to as Hubby, Bin, and Binnie, Reader is referred to as Bun, and Bunny ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Ever since you announced your pregnancy to your husband, his loving treatment skyrocketed to lengths you never believed were possible.

Changbin was a lover, he was a supporter, he was a protector, but he was also the softest, kindest, and most careful man you had ever met, and those were just a few of the traits that convinced you that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The days after you revealed your pregnancy, he treated you like you were a goddess walking among men; you would’ve thought he was your living servant the way he offered to do everything - and I mean everything - for you.

Not like he didn’t do it already, that is.

The first handful of weeks were met with extra kisses here and there, extra check-ins so he could have a clearer gauge on your comfort, and small things like extra snacks finding their way into your pantry.

But, when your stomach slowly began to grow and the first hints of your baby bump began to show, Binnie mode was in full swing.

Almost every morning you were guaranteed a kiss on the lips, cheek, or forehead, and an extra kiss to the small swell of your belly, paired with a whispered “Good morning, baby.”

Whenever you were together he would always, always, manage to keep a hand on your stomach - if you allowed him, of course - and if he couldn’t keep you close by, he’d always make sure to take a quick ‘baby bump break’ to saddle up beside you and rest the palm of his hand over your belly button.

“Bin, if you’re like this when I’m barely showing, I can only imagine how you’ll be when I'm in full watermelon mode.”

You sat partially sprawled out on the couch of his recording studio, the pillow you were previously laying on now replaced with Changbin’s lap, and his arm reaching down your body to rest his hand over the top of your stomach.

He laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, “That’s why you have to get used to how I am now, Bun! I know baby bun will.”

“Baby bun?” You hummed, tilting your head to get a better look at him, “So you’re hoping for a girl?”

He shook his head, “Baby bun is just baby bun - girl, boy, I don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and you’re healthy that’s all that matters to me.”

Fresh tears stung at your eyes and you had to fight to push them away, blaming the increased hormones in your body for your sudden sensitivity to his sentiments.

“Alright, break time’s over!” Announcing his leave with his usual loud voice, he helped you get comfortable again before bending down to your eye-level, “Another hour or two and I’ll be done, then we can go get some dinner, deal?”

Smiling, you nodded happily, “Baby bun and I think that’s a great deal.”

Furthermore, in the midst of all of his soft, adoring moments, there were also moments of warm, tender love that had you overwhelmed in the best of ways.

Moments where he would watch you do your nightly routine; silently observing the way his shirt would ride up with each of your movements, revealing a sliver of the bump he would never get enough of, urging him to stand behind you and snake his arms around your waist.

You smiled tiredly at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing the remaining moisturizer onto your cheeks, “Hi, hubby.”

“Hi, bunny,” he replied in kind, pressing a soft kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Melting into his touch with a gentle sigh, you tilted your head to give him more access, your hands going to encompass his own resting yet again over your bump. “Binnie… What are you up to?”

His arms held you a bit tighter, his lips making a path up your neck and brushing against a spot he knew all too well, “Just appreciating you…”

“Hm, yeah, I can tell.” You shifted your hips, fully aware of the bulge filling his boxer briefs, “You appreciate me that much, yeah?”

Nipping at your skin, his eyes met yours in the mirror, his heard gaze sending a chill of excitement down your spine.

“Can I appreciate you more?”

“Right now?” You mused, lacing your fingers through his, “Right here?”

A low hum vibrated through him as he took you in, the scenario so familiar yet so, so different in numerous ways; you were no longer his girlfriend, no longer his fiancee, no longer just his wife, but his wife and soon-to-be mother of his child.

“Right now,” he confirmed, firm and sure, loving and supportive, soft and kind, “right here.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[moonstruckme]

Hey girl. I saw you were asking for whimsical!reader. The one that you did with James was so cute!!! Could we get another part to that? Also you’re one of my fave authors on here.❤️❤️

Hey babe, so honored! There are so many amazing writers on here, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read my stories :) Thanks for requesting love!

cw: hurt (not direly) animal

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 846 words

“Jamie, do we have any seeds?” James hears you enter through the front door. He turns down the TV to hear you better. 

“Seeds?” he asks. “Like, for gardening? I don’t think so, love.” 

“No, like sunflower seeds.” Your voice fades as you move into the kitchen, cupboard doors opening and closing. “Or actually, kale would do. Can I use some of your kale, please?” 

“What?” He gets up to go to you. “What are you making?” 

James finds you standing in front of the refrigerator, trying to tear open his container of kale with one hand and cradling an alarmingly complaisant-looking bird in the other. 

“Sweetheart,” James says slowly. You tilt your head at him. “Is that a baby bird?” 

“Of course not.” You smile guilelessly, eyelashes kissing at the corners. “Don’t be silly, I know better than to take a baby bird away from its nest. This is a bullfinch. It’s an adult, they’re just small.” 

He nods. “And why’ve you brought it inside, lovie?” 

“Because something’s wrong with it,” you say softly, as if wary of the bird overhearing. “It flew into Mrs. Hutchinson’s window—you know, the older woman down the way? Anyway, it’s alive, but I think it’s in shock or something. See how it’s letting me hold it in my hand?” 

James says that he does. 

“It shouldn’t be doing that,” you finish somberly.

You’re telling him. 

“But I’m fairly sure you’re not supposed to touch wild birds,” he worries, fighting vigorously against the urge to take the thing from your hand. “They carry diseases, don’t they?” 

“I’ll wash my hands.” You finally get the kale open, taking out a few leaves and holding them in front of the bird. “I couldn’t just leave it, Jamie. Mrs. Hutchinson has a cat. What if it had found it all frightened like this?” 

James takes a breath and forces himself to remember that these are the things he loves about you. Though he does prefer when your kinder traits don’t come at the risk of avian disease. 

“It’s not eating,” you fret, watching as the poor thing’s reddish belly pumps with quick, tiny breaths. “Do you think we should give it some water too?” 

“Can’t hurt,” James agrees, grabbing a small dish and filling it from the tap. “Why don’t you bring our little friend outside? We can put this stuff on the ground and see if it’ll eat then.” 

He doesn’t add that despite its equanimous facade, the bird is probably scared shitless sitting in your hand like that. You take to his suggestion happily, leading the way out to James’ small porch. You set the bird down gingerly. James does his best to match your carefulness, placing the little dish of water and a few pieces of kale in front of it. 

“Come on, lovely,” you coo, voice extra soft and sweet for the small creature. 

James’ chest aches at the sound of it. If this bird dies, he’s going to have to arrange a whole funeral for your sake. 

“Let’s give it some space,” he says gently, wrapping his fingers around your waist to encourage you back towards the door. “It might be too scared to eat with us around.” 

You press your lips together as you nod. James nuzzles your hair compassionately. The pair of you sit on his doorstep in silence, you gnawing your lip raw and him reminding himself repeatedly not to hold your hand. After what feels like hours, the bird moves. 

Its head twitches towards where you sit, and then, without even touching the meal you’d set out for it, it flies off. 

Ungrateful prick, James thinks. 

The sigh that leaves you is so loud that he starts to panic before he sees the relief on your face. 

“It’s okay,” you say, not quite teary but looking dangerously close. 

“It is,” James affirms. He’s unable to keep from smiling, you look so adorably thrilled. “It may not have had much appetite, but you saved it, angel.” 

“Did you see the way it looked at us?” You’re awed, looking up at him with huge eyes. “It knew. It could tell we were the ones that helped it.” 

James isn’t sure he can get fully on board with that theory, but he’s not going to burst your bubble. 

“I’m sure it did,” he says, standing and taking your wrists in his hands. You get up too, and James holds your hands out away from you, shouldering open the door to go back inside. 

You follow him gamely. “What are we doing?” 

He leads you over to the sink, forcing you to keep your hands in front of you like a surgeon’s the entire way. “Washing your hands,” he replies. “Don’t need you falling ill from some rare bird disease.”

“I don’t think our friend would have given me any diseases,” you say, though you don’t resist when he holds your hands under the hot water, pumping soap into them. “It liked me, I think.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt it did, sweetheart. But just to be sure.” 

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Fool!Milo Quotes

i need more of this man now (yes i know we’re probably never gonna hear from him again) @qhoaaaa here’s your man :))

“Boo!”

“Sweet lips.”

“My little Stealth.”

“But you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve never heard of magic, what’s a “Vampire”, isn’t that something from a movie, unnhhh.”

“More inhale.”

“Oh this is my lucky night, bitch.”

“Oh, I know I’m close. You’re welcome.”

“So you flops can just give up already.”

“Your adrenaline’s pumping so hard I can literally taste it on the air. I’m not even touching. I’m just looking, and your heart’s already pounding this bad.”

“Excuse me? I’ll say fuck as much as I fucking want to, thank you very fucking much, fuck you, how’s that?”

“You should try some deep breaths, sweetness.”

“I know I look good, but I shouldn’t have to be the last thing you see.”

“Oh don’t you look surly. Whatsa matter sweet cheeks?”

“How in god’s name did I just end up on babysitting duty for a Department shill? God if Dmitri finds out about this I’m getting my ass handed to me. Hell, if Porter finds out about this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No that’s not a Vampire power, that’s a me power.”

“I hate to be the voice of reason cause that shit’s boring as all hell.”

“Don’t try me, Sweetheart, I’m not that fucking soft.”

“Those wet blanket fuck boysup at the Department sent you into shit this deep on your first day?”

“He’s dead. He crossed the Talbot Pack, and they’re friends of the House. So we wiped him. Poof. Head gone. Actually, most of his limbs gone.”

“Snap, crackle, pop.”

“Let me share a little secret with you, Sweetheart. Look at me. Look at this face. Look at this body. People beg me to feed on them. The day I have to trance someone or force someone to get blood, is the day up is down and left is right.”

“Now that I know you’re not some dyed-in-the-wool Department peon, I can focus on your other, far more appealing traits. And it just so happens they do appeal. A lot.”

“What’s this? The lovely little investigator is gonna take a walk on the wild side? Be still my heart.”

“Okay well I’m gonna touch now, you’re literally falling over.”

“What, I’m supposed to whisk you away in my arms? You gotta earn that, baby.”

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 4

WC: 439 Materpost CW: Mild Family Drama

Thankfully it wasn’t long before Danny could get home and take a hot shower. The casserole he’d taken out of the freezer was fine to go in the oven at that point, and he tossed it in as he finished drying off his hair. It was getting long again. He’d kept it a bit shorter since he’d started working and figured he’d be due for another cut soon. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to schedule it, or else he’d just put it off until it was unmanageable.

And then he was left staring at his phone.

Thinking about Jazz.

Maybe he should give her another call— another chance.

The phone was ringing before he had thought much about it.

“Danny?”

“Hi Jazz— Jasmine, sorry.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” she said, but Danny could hear the reprimand in her tone. “What going on?”

“I just…” Why was this so hard? “…wanted to call back? Our last call cut short and I didn’t get to tell you everything.”

“Lacey needed me.”

“That wasn’t— I wasn’t trying to say you shouldn’t have ended the call, I just thought I’d try again. I know you’re busy there. You’re still planning the baby shower, right? I’ve got some vacation—”

“Lacey and I talked, and we don’t think you should come,” Jazz said over him. “And not until the baby has been through all their major shots either. It’s just, you’re around disease a lot and we don’t want to take any chances. You get it, right?”

No, he really didn’t. He was emergency response. Jazz would know that if she ever listened to him.

“…Can I at least get the baby something? Do you have one of those list things?”

“It’s called a registry, Danny.”

Danny held back a sigh. He didn’t want this to end in a fight. “Okay, do you have a registry, Jasmine?”

“Of course we do. But we don’t expect you to get us anything off of it,” she said quickly. “We’ve picked out everything based on the latest research into cognitive development and reviews so nothing on it is… cheap.”

“I have a job.” This was going to be like the fight about his schooling all over again— where Jazz called his paramedical degree a trade school. Like there was something wrong with a trade school anyways. “Just send it through, okay? I’ll see whats on it and I won’t send anything that’s not. And I won’t try to visit.”

“Danny…”

“Give Lacey my best, I’ve got to go,” Danny said, hanging up before he could say the angry words that were bubbling up in his throat.

----- AN: So maybe I'm still not over my sil calling my masters of science a trade school. Though there is nothing wrong with a trade school at all and I'll fight anyone who says so. I honestly wished we had more of them in the US. But yep- I might have picked some of the less lovely traits of my sil and a friend to put into Jazz here. I'm not trying to bash her, I just think it would have been so easy for her to go this way if nothing ever came of her parent's research and she didn't have to adjust her world view to helping save her little brother's life nightly. And if all she saw in that little brother now was someone who supposedly didn't try and maybe resents for having to always be the Big Sister.

Danny could sure use some hugs though.

Due to the new post editor and being shadow banned, I no longer tag! You can subscribe to this post instead to be notified in the same way.

[frvnkcastles]

hi, sorry if I wrote something wrong, this is the first time I make a request... well, I've been dealing with OCD since 2020 (not with organization, but with having to touch something repeatedly or turning the light on and off among other things, and if I don't do something bad happens) and I saw that you're accepting ideas, so here's mine if you want :) Frank Castle x Reader who has had OCD for years but it has gotten worse and she has a panic attack because she doesn't want to deal with it anymore but she just can't stop

I’LL KEEP YOU LIKE AN OATH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Stuck in a compulsion, you need Frank’s help and support more than ever.

Warnings: Reader has OCD, panic attack, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: I’ve actually been assessed for OCD because I display some traits but I’m fortunate to say they’re not that severe, so I can’t say I fully know the experience I was writing about here. But I hope it meets your expectations, anon! You’re so strong and I hope you’re doing well <3 I feel like Frank would 100000% learn everything he can about his partner’s disorders and go to doctor’s appointments and make sure there’s no skipping meds. Tell me I’m wrong!! Anyway, enjoy :)

You didn’t know what happened to make your symptoms worse, what caused the turn towards a decline in your control over your compulsions but it happened, anyway. You thought you were doing so well, but slowly and surely, your steady management of your disorder crumbled and you soon found yourself in an evil loop that you didn’t quite know how to break out of.

Frank quickly picked up on it getting worse. He could read you like an open book and he was perfectly attuned to your moods and especially the anxiety that had begun to rear its head more often, so it was easy for him to figure out you were struggling. You had been together long enough for him to know exactly how your symptoms manifested and what he could do to help, but he couldn’t deny his heart broke for you after you had made so much progress in the past year.

He caught you standing by the light switch one evening, and he immediately knew what was going on. ”Hey, sweetheart. Wanna take a walk with me or somethin’? Get your mind off of it?” he asked softly, placing a hand on your arm to gently retrieve you from the switch, but you stood firmly and pried his grip off of you.

”I can’t do that. I—I just can’t”, you insisted, flicking the lights on and then back off, which earned a frown from Frank. You had told him before about the immense fear of something bad happening if you didn’t follow the compulsions, and while he knew he couldn’t fix what was going on in your head, he always tried to soothe your circling thoughts.

”It’s aight, baby. I promise, nothin’s gonna happen. I know I’m just some asshole sayin’ it but I swear, it’ll be okay”, he reassured you, stepping in front of you to tear your burning stare away from the light switch and towards him. ”Remember what the doctor said, huh? Sometimes you gotta refuse to engage, yeah? C’mon, sit with me for a while, sweetheart”, he reminded you, and reluctantly, you had to admit he was right. You had agreed to give exposure therapy a go, and when you didn’t feel strong enough on your own, Frank had promised to be right by your side to help you sit with the anxiety.

Frank extended his hand to you, and with a sigh, you took it. ”Attagirl”, he commended you before leading you to the living room couch. You fidgeted but sat down, regardless, and he hauled you into his arms, creating a pile of cuddles on the cushions. Throughout the time you had been together, you had discovered that he could be very affectionate — at least when the right person had come along, and usually, you enjoyed it deeply. But right now, you couldn’t help but ruminate on the damn light switch.

”I gotchu. Wanna tell me about your day tomorrow?” Frank tried to steer your mind toward something else, and exhaling shakily, you nodded. You really wanted to try, make an effort for him and give him a reason to be proud of you. You were certainly weary of your compulsions, so you couldn’t exactly blame Frank if he was starting to feel the same way.

”Yeah, I—I, uh… I’m seeing a friend for lunch and—”, you started, but lost track of your own sentence quickly enough. You couldn’t stop thinking about the light switch, couldn’t help but feel the imminent doom looming over you if you dared to step away from the compulsion, and it was driving you mad.

”I’m listenin’, pretty girl. Which friend we talkin’ about?” Frank tried to keep you going, so thoughtful and attentive, but it wasn’t working. You knew he was really trying for you — he had attended every doctor’s appointment as per your wish and he had made sure to ask what he could do to help, how he could take off some of the burden you were carrying by yourself. And he routinely checked in with you to ensure he hadn’t crossed any boundaries and that his gentle pushing was still helping, and most days, you were happy to report that he was your saving grace.

But right now, it just wasn’t enough.

”I’m sorry, I can’t do this”, you stammered, rushing to climb out of Frank’s arms. You hurried to the light switch and began flicking it on and off, the urge to do it a specific amount of times overcoming your senses. You stood by it like a moth drawn to a flame, and Frank felt a horrible pit in his stomach for being unable to ease your mind.

He followed you from the living room, just in time to catch sight of you bringing your hands to your forehead in despair. You promptly burst into tears, feeling sickened and nervous and out of control, and as you shakily dropped your hands to cover your face, Frank rushed to your side. He placed his palm flat on your back and he crouched over to your level as you doubled over and your breathing grew shallow and panicked.

”Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart”, he tried, his gruff voice full of worry as he watched you sink deeper into the panic attack.

”I just want it to stop”, you sobbed, feeling so hopeless and defeated. You didn’t want to get stuck in these loops anymore, but you were incapable of stopping, and it was sending you into a downward spiral right there and then.

But Frank was determined to save you from it. ”I know, baby, I know. It’s real shitty. I wish I could make it stop, y’know I would in a heartbeat”, he spoke with sincere sympathy. ”Breathe f’me, yeah? Look at me. Focus on just me, nothin’ else”, he instructed, soft but demanding enough to be a guiding light, and trying your best, you followed his example of breathing in and out steadily.

Your head was still spinning and your chest felt constricted, but you managed to slow down your breathing. Feeling completely overwhelmed, you slumped down to the floor and sat down against the wall with ragged breaths and trembling hands. Frank followed you down, squatting in front of you to remain in your eyeline, and his hand rested on your propped-up knee.

”There you go, keep goin’”, he encouraged you in a way that helped you calm down. He kept you grounded and as minutes ticked by, you were able to pull yourself back from the void of the sheer panic. You dropped your head between your arms, and observing you with the burning desire to do more to help, Frank sighed.

”I know this fuckin’ sucks, baby. You don’t deserve any of it”, he spoke up, sitting down fully. ”But you know I’m always here, aight? I ain’t givin’ up or lettin’ you do it, either. We’ll get you therapy or meds or whatever it is you wanna do”, he went on, and feeling embarrassed for spinning out of control the way you had, you looked up at him.

”I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t this way”, you lamented, and in response, Frank just shook his head, refusing to let you go down that path of self-hatred.

”It’s not who you are, ya hear me? They’re your symptoms. It’s a disorder. It’s got nothin’ to do with the kind of person you are, which, by the way, I fuckin’ adore and love no matter what. You’re my girl, and I’m here for you even when you think you’re at your worst”, he claimed with a serious tone. It wasn’t something he was going to argue about — to him, you were perfect. You just happened to struggle sometimes, but that didn’t make you any less beautiful or amazing to him. In fact, it just convinced him that you were so, so strong.

Smiling weakly, you took his hand. ”Thank you, Frankie. I love you, too”, you whispered in gratitude. The compulsion hadn’t left your mind yet, and you suspected it was going to stick with you for a while, but you felt a little better knowing Frank wasn’t going anywhere nor was he going to judge you.

”C’mere, girl”, he gestured for you to crawl into his arms, and you happily obliged. You did exactly that, shuffling on the floor until you were sitting between his legs and your head rested against his chest, the warmth of his firm body bringing you immense comfort.

For the night, Frank was focused on helping you alleviate the anxiety, but the next day, he was driven to find you some help. When it came to your well-being, he did not procrastinate, and so, he was determined to do whatever he could, just for you.

[obsolescent]

i was half asleep when i initially wrote this, so i need to edit and rewrite some parts, but i tried to take his behavior and trauma and such into account. also there’s some nsfw in here !! and one last thing : this isn’t finished, so i’ll probably add more to the hcs later :DD

but vkvkv im so excited to discuss this with you!! i love hearing other perspectives, especially since im not as knowledgeable about his time in raccoon city (the game scares me. i’ve got 5 hours in the game and i haven’t even gotten the maiden medallion yet) and i haven’t finished re4 or even started re6. so please don’t hold back and gimme all you got ^^

—

leon wouldn’t want someone in his line of work. it would be a constant reminder of the horrors of his job, and while he would be able to share the burden of fear and pain, ultimately he does show avoidance traits.

i think leon would be a little hesitant if there was an age gap, but if said person was mature enough, was sure about themselves, and was independent he could overlook it.

leon would want someone independent and mature. he’s often away on missions and doesn’t have time to talk or even shoot a text to them, so they would have to be understanding, be able to take care of themselves, and not hold it against him.

leon would want someone kind and nurturing. when he’s away from the horrors of his missions, he dreams of domesticity and a family. he would want s/o to have the desire to have a family of their own, but if they don’t want to or are unable to, then that’s completely fine with him as well.

while he wouldn’t open up about his issues, i think he would want to be doted on and taken care of from time to time. he would want it to be the smaller things like cleaning up after him, writing him notes, holding him when he’s had a hard day, and so on.

leon is a bit of a hypocrite in the sense that he wouldn’t open up about his problems (mostly because they’re classified and he struggles with communicating his emotions) but he would take on all of his s/o pain and do everything he can to find solutions.

leon’s love languages would be gift giving, quality time, and physical touch. he’s a bit awkward with it but it’s endearing and he does try his hardest.

petnames leon would use : baby, sweetheart, darling, sugar, love — sweet names.

in bed, i don’t think he would be able to indulge in most hard kinks. the amount of times leon has been choked by an enemy and has been traumatized by it would prevent him from doing the same to you, but i think at the most he would rest his hand there and gently caress the skin. i think he would prefer sweet, soft sex. he doesn’t mind a fast pace, and would prioritize your pleasure over his own. he’s a giver, but won’t object if you decide to pleasure him of your own accord.

i can see leon having an avoidance or disorganized attachment style. while he is afraid of intimacy, he so desperately wants and needs it.

leon is extremely touch starved. when he’s fully comfortable with his s/o, he would be very touchy in the comfort of his home (or theirs). in public, it would be small things like linking pinkies or holding hands.

Ahhh I loved these!! Thank you for sharing with me, I’ll chat about some of the ones I really like to keep it short :)

(Also perfectly understandable, I’ve had my fiancée play some parts of the game for me due to how damn scary it can get 😭 no pressure to play any of them though, literally take them at your own pace and have fun!!!)

18+ for discussion of sexual activities

Leon would be big on avoiding/hiding his feelings due to the job. He doesn’t want you to ever have to know of the horrors he’s gone through, see what he’s seen, so it would make sense he would try to divert the topic when it comes to speaking about his feelings in regard to work.

He would definitely benefit from someone (like myself ahah) who actually needs their own space away from their partner, someone who needs time alone and I think if he found that type of person, their relationship would work out well!

If I say Leon is actually a hopeless romantic who desires domesticity and wants to have a big, nurturing family, like the one that was sadly taken from him when he was a child? What then?? Also Leon girl dad, though he would be happy with any and all the children he would have!!!

But speaking of that, he wants a big family. I honestly think it would be a criteria for his future partner, something that he denied himself for so long that now, he isn’t going to shy away from what he wants any longer.

Since he’s a hopeless romantic he would love to be doted on and would love to dote on someone else, he would take the time to sit down and listen to all that you have to say and try anything to help you with any problems you may have! Him sitting there with you with a hand covering yours and rubbing your thumb while the other props his head up on the couch and he’s just staring adoringly at you while you chat away 😫

Acts of service was what I pegged Leon’s love language to be, but yeah also physical touch. He’s probably touched-starved after all these years alone, the poor thing :( but yes he’s pretty awkward, but he doesn’t let that stop him from showing you affection and love!!

Yes those pet names are very cute, but I think his favorite would be ones he had given you over the years, ones that started from a joke between to two of you or one from a sentimental moment the two of you shared ♡ (Ex. I was thinking of a scenario of a time you were watching the stars and you were gushing about them and he was being cheesy and called you his star but that’s what he started calling you after that moment 😭)

I feel the same way that he would not be aggressive or use weapon play when it comes to sex. He’s been in too many situations that would just bring back traumatic memories if he were to try anything like that in the bedroom. He’s very gentle and loving, also definitely a giver, going at the pace you like and making sure you’re satisfied before himself. He loves to receive as well, but not before you’ve had yours. (My headcanon that getting you off gets him off 🫠😵‍💫)

He would have conflicting feelings, but knows he wants the intimacy and all that comes with it. While trying to stay with his newfound principles of no longer denying himself after years of doing so he will (try to) be fearless and open up to love and all that it offers ♡

(I did not keep this short, I’m sorry LMFAO)

[rite4fun]

devils’ ride

based loosely on this song,, realistically i only had a small idea of what i wanted to write but then it came out to this, it’s been sitting in my notes for weeks and i only like some of it but now i don’t know if i want to delete it all or just post it for funsies so.. here ya go (if there are errors, don’t look)

18+ content

••

blue ridge, georgia. 1998.

“here you go baby” you hear your mother softly coo as you enter the kitchen. you watch her slide pieces of bacon from a pan onto a plate that lies in front of your father who just grunts in return as he continues to read the newspaper in his hands, “morning my other baby” she sends you sweet smile that you return as she steps around the table to set a kiss on your cheek.

“morning ma” you return her kiss before making your way to your father, “morning daddy” you set a swift kiss on his cheek before settling into a chair at the table. your mother is quick to set a plate of eggs, bacon and toast infront of you.

“morning darlin’, sleep well?” your father sets the newspaper down before using his other hand to pick up his coffee, you hold his gaze as he takes a sip and sets it back on the table.

“mhm..” you nod with a hum as you shovel food quickly into your mouth. your fathers gaze returns to the newspaper in his hand.

for a few minutes, the room is filled with the sound of sizzling bacon on a pan, silverware scraping against glass plates, and the occasional rustle of paper when your father finishes reading a page.

until your mother gasps quietly, “oh! honey you will never know what i heard from janet at the grocery store” she turns around, her own plate in her hands and sits in a chair close to your father, “she was telling me she saw will’s son.. you remember will?” your father hums in acknowledgment, “well she said she saw will’s eldest down around them shady bars in the city.. said he was hanging with some gang, looked like he was on a bender”

“what in the hell is janet herself doing over there?” your father questions, finally setting the newspaper down and giving your mother his full attention.

“she wasn’t.. just drove by and he was just there, standing on the side of the building with some real silmey looking guys”

your father shakes his head in disgust, “will’s youngest? where is he nowadays since his ol’ man been locked up again?”

your mother shrugs in response before turning to you, “you ever see him ‘round school?”

you set your fork down on your plate, lifting the napkin from your lap to wipe the corners of your mouth, swallowing the food you had just shoveled into your mouth. you shake your head before opening your mouth to let one word slip through, “nah”

your father quirks an eyebrow, eyes narrowed and head tilted. you’re quick to straighten your back and correct the improper grammar that fell easily from your lips, “no.. no i have not seen him, ma.”

your mother hums and shrugs before returning to her own plate, continuing to eat but your appetite is gone as you feel your fathers gaze still on you. you meet his eyes as he shifts in his chair, straightening his back and leaning his forearms on the table, an unmannered trait that he would yell at you for. he points a finger in your direction, “you stay away from them dixons, good for nothing but trouble, the lot of them”

“oh john, that boy is nothing but a kid” your mother defends the dixons youngest.

“don’t give two shits how old that little twat is, his fathers’ a drunken asshole and his brother runs the streets for a little cooze, can’t imagine the state of tha’ boy.. destined for nothing stable, i’ll tell ya tha’”

you stand up quick, grabbing your half finished plate, “going to head out”

“you’ve still got an hour and a half until school starts honey” your mother protests as she looks up at your figure that moves around the sink, rinsing your dish and setting it in the dishwasher.

“i’m meeting mandy and kate at the library to study for the bio quiz today” you step back to your mother, pressing a goodbye kiss to her cheek. you step towards your father to do the same, it’s as swift as the first one you gave him. your body turns to leave the room but your fathers hand grips your bicep tightly, forcing your attention back on him.

“you see tha’ boy anywhere and you turn the other way, you understand?” his voice is stern, a hint of distaste in his tone as he spits the word boy out.

there’s something on the tip of your tongue, something sharp.. but you swallow it, nodding your head softly with a smile, “yes daddy”

he grunts as he lets go of your arm and you take your exit quickly before either one of them can utter another word. swiping your backpack from the doorway and stepping out the door, you take a shuddering breath of fresh air before walking down the steps of your porch and into the sun.

••

click

you lightly shade in the outline of a dress that you drew on a sheet of paper, you slip the end of the pencil in between your teeth as your finger smudges the ink.

click

your body shifts, adjusting the pressure on your shoulders as you lay on your stomach, upper body perched up by your elbows, knees bent as your feet sway in the air behind you.

click

you grab the pencil once more to shade the piece darker, smudging it again after. once satisfied, you move to another area on the sheet of paper to repeat the process. the shifting of the bed you lay upon disturbs your handy work and your eyes are quick to gaze upon the intruder.

the boy across from you leans back against the pillows of the bed, you watch as he shakes the box of cigarettes against his palm before taking one out, tossing the box on the nightstand next to him. shaggy brown bangs fall into his face when he settles back into the pillows but he makes no move to sweep them out the way, instead flicking open his lighter with a soft click and lighting the dart that lies between his lips delicately.

your attention no longer lingers on the work infront of you so you close the notebook and set it to the side before leaning your chin onto your palm, “my father spoke about you this morning”

blue eyes meet yours as the boys pink lips purse around the end of the cigarette, inhaling the smoke then releasing it into the open air, “yeah? wha’ sweet words did daddy dearest utter on my behalf?”

you shrug, “same old stuff..” you lift your body up and crawl closer to the boys body. his gaze watching every move as you throw a leg over his lap, “said if i ever saw you.. to turn the other way” you smirk playfully at him as you settle more heavily upon him, his free hand finding it’s rightful place on your hip, fingertips slipping under the tank top you wear and brushing over the soft skin underneath.

the boy lets out a grunt as your hips shift above his, “should listen to ‘im..”

you roll your eyes, “daryl… the day i listen to every word my father says, i’ll be a nun and wearing a shirt up to my chin”

daryls’ eyes wander to your chest revealed by your tank that has fallen enough to reveal some cleavage to his eager gaze before shooting back up to your face, “yer hot ‘nough to pull it off”

you scoff, slapping at his chest as he laughs. a smile creeping upon your lips as his body shakes with the action, in turn moving yours as you rest on his lap. he lifts the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling then exhaling shortly after. your gaze follows every movement but linger on his lips, his tongue swiping quickly over them, making them shine against the light. he reaches his arm out to stub the dart into an ashtray on the nightstand before his attention falls back on you. the hand not resting upon your hip, grips the one you lay upon his chest. he brings it up to his face and remains eye contact with you as he presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand.

your breath hitches, hips shifting above his at the light feather feeling but he doesn’t stop there.. his mouth opens wider, pink slick tongue darting out to graze the skin of your palm before his lips close again in a gentle kiss.

in no time, you sweep the upper half of your body down to press against his chest and crash your lips upon his. you feel him smirk into the kiss, his hands moving to slip down your body, fingertips grazing the dip of your waist to caressing your ass and sliding back down your thighs with a tight grip.

a gasp escapes your mouth at the sensation, allowing him to swipe his tongue against yours, deepening the kiss. the ever familar lingering taste of nicotine in his mouth is enough to have your legs squeezing his body between them. you tilt your head to the side more and slip a hand into his soft hair, pulling softly but enough for him to release a throaty moan at the feeling.

you’ve just began to roll your hips against his when the sudden sound of an alarm goes off, forcing your lips to separate with a slick sound, your own stomach clenching and his hips twitching in reaction to such noise.

you refuse to remove yourself from the warmth of his lap, instead reaching your upper body for your phone further down the bed and turning off the alarm. you drop the phone and return your attention to the boy below you, his eyes are half lidded, lips spit slick and swollen, cheeks a rosy red, he is a sight to behold and you imagine you aren’t much better by the way his hands clench where they lay against your thighs once he gets a good glance at your state.

you let out a disappointed sigh, “time for school..”

daryl releases a grunt as you lift yourself out from his hold and off the bed completely. grabbing the sweatshirt you laid on the desk chair in the room, you pull it over yourself. a small cracked mirror sits above the messy desk where you are able to catch a glimpse of your appearance. you were right… you weren’t much better yourself, lips swollen and eyes glazed over just from a little bit of kissing. you straighten up your hair, adjusting your clothes before turning back to the bed and gathering your belongings back into your backpack.

all the while, daryl remains still in the silence save for your shuffling. he’s got one arm now bent, hand resting behind his head, the other splaying across his stomach. his blue eyes narrowing, captivated by every movement you make.

you can’t help but smile at him, knowing just what effect you had on him, similar to the one he too, had on you. you watch the corner of his mouth, twitching as it threatens to release a smile but instead he bites his lip to prevent it from actually slipping.

“come on. we leave now, we’ll make it just in time for the first late bell” you lean a hand against the bed as you glance down to slide your boots on. standing upright again, you throw your backpack over one shoulder, finally looking to where daryl still lays, his gaze now lowered, “you can’t skip again, daryl… that’s three days in a row. we even have that bio quiz third period today! we studied together all week, you’ll ace it!”

the encouragement does nothing to make him move and your shoulders drop slightly. you know he can do it.. you spent hours together going over your own notes. you even sat in his lap quzzing him on the subject as he claimed he could focus better if you were closer. kissing him after every answer he got right which was all of them. his eyes would light up at your praise, stealing extra kisses when he could, just to hear that sweet giggle of yours when you’d playfully push him away, claiming “you know the rules dixon, you only get one for each question” but you’d lean down anyway to slot your lips together because denying him- meant denying yourself.

you glance at the time, biting your lip as you realize if you don’t leave soon, you’ll be late again and your father will surely follow through with the threat to take your phone away.

“fine” you round the bed to the side daryl lays on, leaning down and pressing a quick but bruising kiss to his lips, “i’ll let miss o’donnell know you are still sick but i swear on everything if you miss the retake day of this quiz, i’ll beat your fucking ass daryl”

you turn away, his voice raspy as he finally opens his mouth, “such filthy words comin’ from daddy’s sweet southern belle, must be rubbing off on ya’ a bit too much”

you can practically see the smirk on his face from just the tone of his voice even with your back to him as you continue to walk towards his bedroom door, so you throw him a middle finger over your shoulder and you know he sees it when you hear his sweet laugh, smile spreading helplessly across your own lips at the sound.

“won’t be much rubbing off on me anymore if you don’t get your ass to school sometime this week” you threaten, it’s an empty threat but you throw it out there anyway.

you reach the door of his room, pulling it open but before your body can push through the doorway, he calls out to you. his tone gone soft and you turn to give him your full attention, leaning your body against the frame. he has sat himself up more, back leaning against the wall behind his bed, eyes casted down at his lighter that his fingers fiddle with, a nervous habit of his that you find endearing.

“we still on for tonight?” it’s a simple question but his tone is soft, vulnerable even as if you’ll reply with anything but a yes.

you wait for him to look you in the eyes, before sharing a smile, one full of reassurance that there isn’t anywhere you’d rather be than being with him, “nine o’clock on the dot dixon and not a minute late”

“yes ma’am”

••

you lay as still as possible in your bed, listening to your mothers footsteps as she begins turning the lights in the house off.

there is some quiet mumbling as she says a quick goodnight to your father who has passed out in his infamous arm chair infront of the tv. a few bottles of beer after dinner always left him in a deep slumber, you and your mother have learned it’s best to just leave him be then attempt to lift his deadweight all the way upstairs to your parents room.

there is more shuffling before you can hear her steps on the stairs, she passes the door of your room, then finally the click of your parents door shutting. you take a quick glance on your phone, checking the time 8:50, it reads. perfect timing.

you wait the extra five minutes for your mother to settle into her own bed, tv playing some soap opera she only indulges in when your father spends the night downstairs.

8:55. you carefully climb out of bed with practised ease, your following steps coming just as quietly when you gather your bag and step out onto the landing of your stairs. you chance one more look at your parents bedroom door, the obvious voices of your mothers favorite show loud enough to drown any small noise the old house may make.

years of living in this house has left you knowing every inch- stepping more to the left on the eighth step and skipping the fourth step completely. you release a soft but quiet breath when your feet finally hit the bottom floor.

you peek into the living room, a soft glow of light from the tv illumating the sleeping face of your father. his snores bounce off the walls on account of the many beers he had and the deep sleep he is encountering.

lingering no further, you step into the kitchen and taking a pit stop at the fridge to pull out the container you secretly packed. you had sent your mother and father to the living room after dinner, offering to do clean up. you’d pack the tubberware with leftovers before shoving it in the back of the fridge, hidden by the many bottles of beer and random condiments.

you reach your arm in to pull it out, the edge of the container skimming a beer bottle that teeters the edge of the shelf, your other hand is quick to grab it before it falls but not without jostling the other bottles beside it. you freeze with a pounding heart at the tinkering of the glass bouncing off one another.

you curse quietly under your breath because of course, the one night you decide to do something out of the ordinary, it goes wrong. you hear nothing else but your fathers snores and quickly decide that now, is probably not the right time to be second guessing decisions. you quietly shut the fridge before heading to the back door, opening it and slipping through.

you rush through your backyard, slipping into the dark with measured steps before you see the familiar old black cadalliac pulled up on the side of the street, door already open for you to slip in.

“yer late” 9:01, the clock reads.

you pull the car door shut as the car shifts to drive, “‘caused a big ruckus getting this” you lifted the container of food in question, “had to make sure there was no witnesses”

“wha’ is it?”

“dinner..” you look over at the boy next to you, the street lights casting a soft glow on his face, “janet saw merle in the city a few days ago and he wasn’t at the house this morning. assumed he has been m.i.a for a bit and figured it’s been even longer since you have had a home cooked meal.”

you watch daryl fight a smile, the car slows to a stop at a red light before he is turning towards you. his hand reaches out to grip your chin, pulling you to meet him halfway and crashing his lips to yours, mumbling a small “yer too damn sweet, belle”

you smile and hum against his lips, “it’s nothing…” your cheeks flare at the sentiment anyway before your pulling away and daryl is facing forward again just as the light changes to green.

the roads remain empty as the car navigates through the back roads of your small town. you share the gossip of the day at school to keep him in the loop, he really doesn’t give a shit about anyone that isn’t you but he listens anyway because he loves hearing you talk. finally, you hit the highway and you can feel your body beginning to tingle as daryls foot presses harder on the gas to match the high speeds of the road. he rolls the windows down and turns the music up.

it’s not his first rodeo, he knows you love this. the wind whipping through your hair and the music flooding your ears at a deafening height. you explained to him once that this..

just you, him, the open highway and the dirty lyrics of a rock song blaring from the radio..

this is where you belong. this is where you feel most you. free.

daryl wishes he could just stare at you as he drives but he takes the little glimpses he can get when he chances a small glance in the direction at where you sit next to him. a ghost of a smile rests on your face as you sing along to the music. your hair tangling from the wind, small pieces occasionally sticking to your lips but you pay them no mind. you hold an arm out the window, the cool air nipping at it.

you catch one of his glimpses and he is quick to face back towards the road, allowing you to take your turn in drinking him in under the moonlight.

his side profile is picture perfect. from his wind blown bangs that sweep across his forehead down to the sharp slope of his nose and his red bitten lips (thanks to his anxious lip biting habit), all the way to his even sharper jawline. god, you just want to fucking ruin him for sitting there so effortlessly, unaware that his presence alone makes you crazy.

he can feel you staring, how could he not? the lighting is dark enough to hide the color he is sure paints his cheeks but he still feels the heat of them. he tilts his head further towards the window, allowing the cold air to cool them down.

you watch his body shift, continuing to trail your eyes down. he wears a dark grey tee, the short sleeves leaving his arms naked, goosebumps spread as the night breeze flows in. his muscles flexing as he re-adjusts his hand on the steering wheel. your eyes narrow as they fall to the light wash jeans that cover his bottom half and it is then, you realize that staring is no longer enough but rather you need to feel him.

you’d endured a day in hell beginning with mandy and kate grilling you on your whereabouts this morning when you missed the study group, then miss o’donnell chose today of all days to be in a pissy mood, to finally going home, your father having a shitty day at work and taking it out on anyone who dare cross his path. the only thing that would have soothed the ever building stress under your skin was the occasional glimpses of daryl you’d catch throughout the day. the simple twitch of his lips when he catches your eyes lingering too long on him or the bravery to meet your eyes and sending you a sly wink when you pass in the halls. alas, he wasn’t there today. the beginning of the shitty day really began then.

you scoot your body to the middle seat, daryls’ eyes glancing at you in question but he says nothing as he refocuses back on the road ahead when you do nothing but stare ahead with a hidden smile.

you wait long enough that daryl no longer suspects anything, twisting half your body towards him, placing a hand on his stomach and pressing a kiss to the bicep of his outstretched arm that holds the steering wheel. your eyelashes flutter before your gazing up at him through them while your hand travels further south, settling on the zipper of his jeans.

the music still plays at the level you had originally turned it up too, talking was out of the question but you guys never needed words to communicate.

he presses his back further into the seat, hips lifting against your hand and sharing a quick glance with you before his attention is back on the road. it’s more than enough of an answer for you so you waste no time in unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. your hand grips him through his briefs, his cock already hard and throbbing against your palm. you press your thighs together and you can’t help but bite softly at his bicep to contain a moan at the feeling of him twitching in your hand.

daryl can’t seem to keep his body still at your touch so he shifts again, both hands reaching out to grip the steering wheel now.

you press closer to his body as you pull him out of his briefs finally. his mouth drops as your thumb swipes the precum that spills from his tip before dragging it down the side. god, you wish you could hear him.

you lift your face from the side of his arm before latching onto his neck, trailing sloppy kisses anywhere you could reach. every twitch of his cock receives a squeeze as your hand drags up and down, thumbing his tip for more precum to spread to make the glide easier. the slight roughness of it all only turns daryl on more.

your kisses reach his ear and you take full advantage of his lack of control in this situation, “god, you feel so good in my hand” following your words with a quiet gasp before your back to trailing kisses down his neck.

his response is a slight jerk of the car as his foot falls heavy on the pedal along with a rough twitch of his cock in your hand that releases a larger amount of precum. you smirk against his neck, pressing one final kiss to the soft skin before leaning back.

your hand is able to move faster along his cock now, twisting your wrist everytime you your hand glides up towards his sensitive tip, something you know daryl enjoys. you glance at his face as you do the motion again, his head presses into the seat, eyelashes fluttering, threatening to shut but they stay half lidded to keep an eye on the road ahead as he chews on his bottom lip roughly.

you lean towards his ear again, “i want you in my mouth..” the car revvs as his foot drops again, “need you to focus real hard, yeah? can you do that for me?”

you lean back with a smile as he nods vigorously in response. you twist your wrist once more, a reward for being so gracious and allowing you do whatever you want to him. your next moves are quick, slipping under his arms and guiding him to your mouth. the second he feels your lips press against his tip, his foot drops again.

daryl takes a deep breath, trying to focus even more on not driving the car into a fucking ditch but it’s tough as your sweet, warm mouth envelopes his cock, sliding slowly down his shaft, your tongue flicking over a sensitive vein.

daryls releasing one hand from the steering wheel to turn the music down and you try to protest with him still in your mouth, the vibrations making his head spin, “fuck.. yer so good”

his chest heaves heavily, his free hand going to rest on the back of your head, fist only curling into your hair but not pressing. you’re so fucking perfect to him. from the kindness of your heart to even think of bringing him dinner to the sweet warmth of your mouth moving up and down his cock. he might just fucking love you. it should be a terrifying thought but it’s not the first time it came across his mind, maybe because he has always cared for you since you bounded into his life. you’re on his mind the minute he becomes conscious to the world to being his last thought as he lays in bed at night.

you are his. despite not a single soul on earth knowing what goes on between you two behind closed doors, you are it for him and he can’t imagine a life where you aren’t here with him.

“baby..” he growls the endearing term as he grips your hair tighter, “’m gonna cum… fuck” his train of thoughts are everywhere between keeping the car steady, his overwhelming desire to confess his love for you, and the need to finally cum.

now doesn’t seem like the right time to confess something that he feels so deeply as you give him head in his dads cadalliac. nevermind the fact that he actually wants to spend the rest of his life with you and he can’t do that if he crashes the fucking car, whether he dies from the accident or his father finds out and sends out a hit man for ruining his precious car. with a quick decision in mind, he slides the vehicle to the side of the road and shoves the gear stick into park.

you hum in confusion and stop the bopping of your head on his cock, lifting until just the tip lies in your mouth. you expect his hand to release your hair so you can sit up but instead, he presses you further down his cock slowly, testing the waters.. “‘s okay, just don’ want to crash the car all because yer pretty mouth wanted to suck m’ cock” he grunts as you’re quick to open your mouth wider, suctioning and swiping your tongue in agreement as he guides you with the hand on the back of your head.

“can ya’ swallow fo’ me, pretty girl?” his voice is rough, that raspy tone that lets you know just how gone he is. as if you didn’t know from the tensing of his thighs below your hands and the constant twitching of his cock in your mouth.

you reach a hand to grip the base of his cock as your mouth focuses on the tip. the swirling and flicking of your tongue matching the twists and squeezes of your hand. every sensation is different, it’s almost too much yet not enough.

daryl doesn’t even have time to question which feels better before the grip in your hair tightens and his body tenses. his head falling forward as he whines out quiet curses, “fuck, fuck, fuck”

the first bout of cum are violent spurts that make you jerk your head back a bit in shock but you’re prepared for the next, squeezing the base of his cock to milk him of every last drop and more.

his grip on your hair releases, softening instead to massage your scalp incase he pulled too hard as he was lost in bliss. you plan to clean up every last drop on his cock but the sensitivity gives way quickly as you suckle at his head, flicking your tongue over his slit and daryl releases a grunt, “tha’s enough”

you allow him to slip from your mouth but not before you can press a final kiss to his tip before fully leaning your body back and aren’t you a sight to see with your glossy eyes, swollen and slick lips, even your cheeks are flushed. you look utterly wrecked and daryl can feel himself twitch weakly when your lips stretch into a satisfied smile.

“yer fuckin’ insane, belle” he shakes his head as he carefully puts himself back into his briefs and doing his pants up again.

and just when he thinks your smile can’t get any brighter, it somehow does and you beam with that familar glint in your eye, the knowledge of what it could mean warming his heart. he can’t help reaching out to grip the side of your neck, pulling you to him and crashing his lips against yours.

your taste is mix of something you guys created together and daryl can see himself becoming addicted to it, if he isn’t already as he already regrets pulling away from your sweet mouth, “come on, buckle up. we’re almost there” he nudges his head towards the empty road and you nod before sticking close to him, laying your head against his body as he puts the car in drive again and takes off.

••

“he wants to send me to a stupid all girls boarding school, said i’ll be able to focus more on my studies there but i know he just wants to lock me away and not have to worry that i’m off somewhere doing something i shouldn’t” daryl sends a look from his seat across from you, “don’t say anything” you warn as your foot nudges his legs as you catch the meaning behind the sly look.

smoke releases from your mouth when you pull the cigarette away, tapping it against the built in ashtray of the car. normally you’d never pick up the small dart that lays between your fingers but sometimes a shitty day warrants for the burn of one.

the car sits stationed behind the familiar abandoned train station that’s roughly thirty minutes out from your house. you sit sideways in the backseat of the black cadalliac with your legs thrown over daryls own. the windows are cracked, letting the cool breeze in as music plays softly from the radio.

“wasn’t gonn’, belle” daryl replies, his feet kicks the empty container you brought him. the delicious spaghetti and meatballs your mother made was filling, sometimes he likes to visualize himself thanking her personally but then he remembers who he is and the vision dissipates into dust, leaving an ugly hollow feeling in his chest.

“saw it on your face” you huff, leaning forward slightly to hand him the cigarette and releasing the smoke you’ve just inhaled.

when you first met, he was never a big fan of words so over the years, you had gotten better at reading every look, touch, movement.. anything that he does to determine what they all mean.. he’d argued he is just as good at reading you.

daryl places the dart between his lips, taking a few hits before stubbing it out completely. he can tell you have more to say, your day seemed to irritate you more than usual and he can’t help but think that he should have just sucked it up this morning and gone to the shitty highschool.. even if he would have been miserable, he’d be able to keep an eye out for you.

admittedly all he’d do is cover up your attempts to look or brush against him in the halls. you were never particularly good at being sly but whatever you did was enough that nobody suspected anything. plus it amused him more than anything.

“what did you end up doing on your off day?”

daryl shrugs, “went into the city”

“to see merle?” he nods in response, “he coming home?”

“nah, said he had a couple more things to do out there” his voice is indifferent but your saddened at the thought of him being home alone all the time.

“maybe..” you shift your position and daryl grips one of your legs as you settle back again, “maybe i can come over this weekend.. and stay?” your voice ends softer than it began, a hint of fear at the possibility of rejection.

daryl is taken back at the tone, when has he ever denied you for you to feel scared to ask him anything, let alone offering to keep him company?

he’s moving before he responds, pulling his body over yours as he settles between your legs. one hand rests on your hip and pulls you further down the seat until he is face to face with you, “yeah?”

one of your hands reach up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear, your eyes meet his as you shrug, “if you’ll have me..”

you are unbelievable, daryl thinks. he mumbles mockingly your words as an arm wraps around your lower back to pull you closer to his own body. a small grin spreading on his face as you let out a giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, your noses bumping together.

‘course he’d have you. today. tonight. tomorrow. forever, if you’ll have him.

“what will ya tell yer dad?” his eyes flick from your eyes, to your lips and back.

you hum, licking your lips before responding, “i’ll figure it out”

daryl knows you will, you always do.

your faces are close, his swaying down to close the gap even more causing your lips to brush. when you lift your head up, his is pulling back; teasing you. you make for the motion again and your lips just barely press together before he is pulling back again and this time, you can’t help but whine and settle your head back against the seat.

you look at him underneath your eyelashes, your bottom lip jutted just a tiny bit more than the top one, not yet a pout but just as sweet looking.

“so pretty when yer desperate” his praise sends shivers down your spine and your eyes are fluttering shut, chest arching to brush against his.

“please..” you whisper when your eyes open, head tilted just a bit as you look up at him.

daryl is only so strong against you, he likes to tease but to ever fully deny you? he could never, especially when you beg and look at him like that, so sweet and ready for the taking.

his lips slot with yours as the kiss begins tender and slow but hot. so so hot. the heat of it making you let out a soft moan and daryl takes full advantage when your mouth drops open. swiping his tongue along yours, the tender moment gone as the kiss becomes sloppier.

he releases his hold around your back and allows his hands to roam your body as his lips stay attached to yours. they slip under the tshirt you wear, fingertips dancing over your sides making you squirm at the ticklish feeling. as his hands slip further up, your shirt does too until you lift up enough for him to slide it completely off, leaving it to fall on the floor of the car.

as you settle back, he admires the lacy white bralette that barely conceals the flesh underneath but it’s pretty, like you, he thinks.

he returns his lips to yours, a hand grazing over the thin fabric, thumb brushing over your nipple that’s already hardened underneath the lace. you push your chest further into his hand, a soft whimper releasing from your throat.

“’ve got ya’” daryls lips brush yours as he reassures you. you took care of him earlier and now, it’s his turn and he fully intends on following through with extra care as always. he trails his lips down your jaw, to your neck and finally your chest.

his teeth graze your collarbones before latching onto your skin, sucking and licking all across the expanse of your chest. some sure to bruise but you don’t care as your hands find purchase in his hair, pressing him into you more.

once satisfied, he trails kisses to the valley of your breasts, sucking another bruise to the area as his hands thumb at your nipples.

“ah..” you thrown your head back with a gasp when he finally places his mouth over your nipple through the fabric of your bralette, his tongue flicking over it, saliva soaking the lace which has you moaning out softly at the sensation.

“hmm.. tha’ feel good?” daryl mumbles around your nipple as he looks up at you from beneath his hair, always a sensitive little thing, he thinks. you bite your bottom lip from crying out more, opting to just nodding your head in response. he hums happily, “jus’ wanna make m’ girl feel good”

“you always d-do.. ah” a moan falls from your mouth as you look down to watch him and his smooth pink lips, he switches to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. your hands grip his hair tighter as his tongue swirls around your taut nipple, the sight making your hips buck against his, desperate for something to ease the throbbing between your legs.

you want to succumb to the pleasure, allow yourself to just let go and feel everything but there’s a thud that sounds like it came from outside the car. your chest pushes against daryls mouth and you fight hard to get your next words out, “w-what was tha’?”

daryl refuses to part from your breast but he does slow his movements, continuing to flick his tongue around your nipple through the spit soaked lace.

“prolly’ jus’ the wind” he finally concludes when he hears nothing but the whistle of the cool air flowing through the crack of the windows. he’s back to skimming his teeth over your sensitive breast, not wanting you to forget any pleasure that was building up from his ministrations. he shifts his body so his thigh presses to your core, allowing you to grind against it to ease the pressure that’s become so overwhelming you felt tears in your eyes at the slightest friction you gain even if there still lies so much fabric between your bodies. you can work with it until he gives you more.

as your hips ground down, daryl pushes his thigh against you and in no time, you’re both finding a rhythm that could finally release the ever building pleasure you’ve had since you gave him head earlier. your mouth opens to let out another moan, head rolling to the side and eyes falling to the back of your head at a particularly hard thrust of his thigh at the same time your own hips bare down. when your eyes flutter open, they’re half lidded in bliss and just as you feel them roll shut again, you swear you’d seen a shadow out the window over daryls shoulder.

you open your mouth to say something but all that comes out is a gasp of daryls name, your mind so utterly blank and helpless to the one person giving you so many good sensations. at the sound of your voice whimpering his name, he doubles down on his actions, wanting to see you succumb to the pleasure.

your eyes can’t help but glance to the window again expecting to see nothing but the night sky- instead you see a face. though the moonlight gives little shine to the surrounding forest of the abandoned train station, it’s enough for you to recognize the features glaring through the window and your heart stops before pounding so hard, you feel like blood might just leak from your ears to relieve the pressure.

daryl leans back when he feels your body tense and still, quick to detect the uneasiness and for a moment he thinks he has done something wrong but when he sees your face, your eyes aren’t on him but behind him, “wha’s wrong?”

you can’t reply though, well you can- could, but you don’t get the chance too before the door of the car is thrown open and daryls body is pulled roughly from yours and out the car.

“daddy!” you scramble for your top, slipping through the door as you pull it down to cover yourself. the moonlight illuminates daryls body that your father has thrown to the dirt road. “daddy, stop!” your father kneels on one knee, one hand gripping the boys tee to lift him to his face, the other pulled back in a fist.

“the hell you think your doin’ with your dirty hands on my little girl, huh?!” your father shakes him, growling the words with utter digust.

you feel a bit helpless to the scene, your eyes glancing to where your mother stands by the yellow volkswagen you nor daryl heard pull up behind you guys. she holds a hand over her heart, her wide eyes shining with tears and you want to say something to her. apologize even, not for being here with daryl, you’d never apologize for that but for making her worry. for having her out here, witnessing this.

“ya’ gonna answer me you prick or am i gon’ have to beat it out of ya?”

“just leave him alone daddy, he didn’t do anything!” you and daryl make eye contact, your eyes beginning to shine with your own tears while his remain clear and relaxed, an attempt to assure you he is okay. it does nothing to ease the pounding of your heart, reaching the point that you genuinely believe you might have a heart attack.

“you shut your month, i’ll deal with you later” your father doesn’t turn around, refusing to look at you.

“don’ talk to her like that” daryls eyes narrow at the man infront of him. your father stares him down expecting him to crumble in defeat to his heated glare but he doesn’t budge, leaving your father to laugh in faux disbelief.

“got some balls on ya’ kid” he pulls daryls face closer, voice low and reeking of alcohol, “you’d watch that mouth of yours.. don’t tell me how to handle what’s mine”

“yeah? gon’ lay your hands on ‘er like ya do her mother?”

and that’s it.. the final straw that has your father growling and pulling his fist back before colliding with daryls face.

“daryl! no!” you gasp and move to grab your fathers arm, attempting to pull him away but he shakes you off roughly, enough to have you stumbling back and falling to the dirt road.

your mother is quick to come to your aid but you brush her off as you get up, heading for the two bodies infront of you again. daryl holds a hand over his cheek as he looks up at your face which crumbles at the sight of blood that drips down from the split wound. you stumble closer wanting to help him but he holds his hand up to stop you before his attention falls back to the man infront of him.

“is that what she’s telling everyone?” your father mocks as he continues to lean over the boys body.

“’s what i know” daryl can sniff out a prick of a dad when he sees one, curtesy to having one himself. you rarely talked about your home life but bits and pieces would slip during your late night conversations. it wasn’t exactly rocket science to put together.

your father lets out another menacing laugh, “it’s what you know..” he drops his head, shoulders shaking with even more quiet mocking laughter before lifting to face daryl again, “if you know anything like she’s knows, it’d seem you both must be dumb as shit. while that fact can be hurtful, there could have been hope to fix it but her being out with you? dumb and slutty? tha’ just about makes her a downright disappointment”

you and your mother release matching gasps. you shake the initial shock off, it should bother you more to hear your father call you such shitty, degrading names but you can’t find yourself to care too much when all you want to do is diffuse the situation. in this moment, all you wanted was to get daryl as far away from your father as you possibly could.

shifting your eyes back to daryl, his chest heaves and for a second, it looks like steam may just be coming from his ears as his eyes stay locked on the older man’s figure.

call him all the names in the world, he could give two shits but calling you anything than what you are-

daryl is pulling himself from your fathers grasp, putting a good distance between them as he steadies on his feet. you watch him take a deep breath, his eyebrows drawing over his eyes as he narrows them.

you know he is gearing up for a fight, you’ve seen it plenty before at school whenever someone pushed his buttons or mouthed off some shitty comment about his family to him.

he stands there, glowering at the other person, still as ever except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. something about it left the other person bothered enough to swing first, allowing for him to finish it without strict punishment as he uses self defense as his reasoning.

“daryl.. don’t” he doesn’t even glance your way, eyes focused on the poor excuse of a man infront of him, mind filled with all the ways he’d put him down.

“now now,” your father pushes himself up, standing to full height, towering over daryls lean teenage figure, “let’s see what he’s got”

“so what? you’re just going to rough him up a bit?” your tone exasperated, “this has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me and you!” your fathers anger is misdirected. the false narrative he came up with vanished the second he saw you and daryl in that black cadalliac but the reality of the situation had him creating new ones instead of facing the facts.

you chose to be here with daryl and his mind couldn’t wrap around that.

the gravel of the dirt road crunches beneath your feet as you take slow steps towards your father. still refusing to look at you, you watch his back tense. shoulders rolling back in an attempt to make himself seem bigger although he has no need too as he continues to tower over the boy infront of him.

“has everything to do with this twat, can’t keep his hands to himself”

“he didn’t do anything i didn’t want him to do” it’s not the right words to say right now but you didn’t even know what you could to stop this.

your fathers’ head drops, a hand coming up to pinch the skin between his nose before shaking his head in disbelief? disgust? “don’t say that shit”

you’re close enough behind him that you can hear him mumbling but it’s hard to keep up with everything that tumbles out except for one thing you don’t even know what you want.

you shake your head at his words although he can’t see you, let alone know if you actually heard. he’s wrong though, you do know what you want. the minute you met daryl, you wanted him to stay but he never did. running off any chance he could to prevent you from getting too close but you waited. patient and sweet as always until one day he did stay, since then he refused to leave your side unless you’d ask him too - which is something you’d never do - and although it’d hurt his heart, he would because he just wants you happy.

more often than not these late night drives were filled with deep conversations, if the urge to feel one another didn’t overtake your mind first. you were teenagers with raging hormones, what did anyone else expect?

you remember one night that daryl actually let his feelings slip; the topic of the future was in the air, you spoke of what you wanted to see yourself doing, a smile on your face. he’s confessed before that he didn’t think about it much, truth be told he’d probably say either dead or in prison but since you came bounding into his life, that reality become less true.

“where do you think you’ll be?” he looks down at his lap where you lay your head across it, you eye him expectantly, always so eager to hear him speak as he did it so rarely.

he faces forward again before shrugging, “i don’ know.. prolly jus’ go wherever you are” he thinks nothing of it as he says it, the truth slipping through his lips easily. he doesn’t know what he plans to do or where but if he had a choice, it’d be with you.

you lift from his lap so suddenly that he is taken back as you turn to face him. his poker face has always been spot on but a lingering of worry reflects in his eyes, thinking just maybe he said the wrong thing. maybe you didn’t see him in your future the way he couldn’t see you without.

you see the moment regret flushes through him as he begins to pull away but you don’t let him get far, grabbing his face with your hands and forcing him to look you in the eyes, “…yeah?”

your gaze is overwhelming so all he can do is press his forehead to yours and nod. never to push or pull when he shows you such vulnerability, you smile and smash your lips to his before leaning back, “‘mkay.. don’t care where we end up, so long as i’m with you too”

it’s the closest thing to a love confession as daryl could give at that time and although it was said in so little context, you understood what he meant, what he felt, what he feels because you felt the same way and still do.

you’re close enough to reach out for your fathers elbow, “daddy.. i love him” your fingers just barely graze his arm before it’s swinging back aggressively, creating contact with your face whipping it to the side. the resounding smack of impact fills the empty train station.

dead silence settles into the air as you reach a hand up to cup the cheek that now throbs in pain and face your father who looks back in shock. your mother is silently crying as she stands powerless to the scene before her. and daryl…

daryl sees red.

your father reaches out to you but the contact is never made when a smaller body is pushing his away. as he staggers, daryl takes full advantage and swings a fist to his face, “ya best keep yer fucking hands off ‘er!”

your father gains his balance back quickly before he’s fighting back, throwing a punch aimed at daryls jaw then another at his eye. he leaves no room for the boy to gain any sense of control, plummeting him into the dirt road all over again.

daryls body falls to the side and you’re screaming for your father to stop, even your mother is crying out his name but both of your pleas fall on deaf ears.

“you think this little twat gives a fuck about you?!” your father asks, kicking his foot into daryls stomach making him release a grunt, “boys like him are only after one thing with girls like you, unfortunately you were dumb enough to fall for his tricks!”

you shake your head, “just stop it! you’re gonna kill him!” tears stream down your face as your father continues to kick and stomp anywhere he sees fit. daryls’ grunts and groans echo throughout the open air along with the nasty muttered words your father continues to spit at him and you.

you and your mother work together to tug at any part of your fathers body your hands can grip. grasping him tightly and pulling him roughly back, his body comes easily before he’s pushing forward again to stomp one last kick to daryls body, just to show you that he’s still in control, allowing you to move him away. he’d keep going if he could but he can’t go to prison and keep you away from that boy at the same time.

your mother continues to pull him away before she’s stumbling back, hands shaking in fear and covering her face in disbelief of everything that’s just happened.

you’ve dropped to your knees, rocks digging into them as you shuffle the short distance to daryls body. your hands hover shakingly, trying to find an exact spot you could hold that might ease the pain.

“o-oh my god daryl.. i’m sorry.. i’m so sorry..” your voice nothing but a whisper as sobs overtake your already trembling body. tears blur your vision but you make no move to wipe them, choosing instead to blink rapidly so you are able to keep an eye on the boy infront of you.

“not yer fault…” he barely gets out as he clutches his stomach, body curling in pain as he takes a shuddering deep breath. you shake your head in response, denying the sentiment before looking down at your lap as you cry because it is. his hand shakingly enters your vision as he reaches out to you, your own immediately latching onto it. he squeezes your fingers to gain your attention and when you finally meet his eyes, he gives you a stern look, “‘s not.”

you lean down to kiss the hand that lays in your grip, mumbling apologies into his skin.

“don’t you touch tha’ boy!”

“can’t you just shut up!” you whip your head around to your father who leans against the volkswagen, “please..” your voice softer as you turn back to daryl. the hand not gripped into his, goes to brush hair out of his face, revealing the damage your fathers fist had done. you feel sick to your stomach.

“it’s time to go, leave him” you shake your head at your fathers voice, “if you don’t get your ass into this car right now, i swear on everything i’ll send you to that boarding school an’ make sure they lock the keys up so you’ll never even get the chance to think about making this dumb mistake again!”

“i’m not leaving him!” you can hear your mother encouraging your father to just get in the car but he shuts her down with a sharp lip.

“you stay here with him, you better stay because if i see you enter a foot into my house..” the threat is left in the air. you make no motion to move as you cling to daryls hand, eyes closing as you release a shuddering breath.

it’s only a few moments later that you hear your father mutter a few curse words before the car door slams shut. the engine rumbling to life, shortly followed by the sound of gravel crunching under the tires as they sped away, leaving natures nightlife to fill the empty space.

daryls hand squeezes yours and your eyes open to meet his, the moon light illuminating the blue of them. you study the many spots of his face that are beginning to bloom a dark color, a small cut goes through his brow, another across his cheekbone and bottom lip. your stomach turns at the sight.

he attempts to sit up, even letting go of your hand to clutch his stomach as he uses the other to lean up on.

“careful..” still having no idea where to lay your hands, you hover them about as he unsteadily sits up. when successful, his gaze falls on you again, truly taking in your state.

he wonders if you even notice how bad your body shakes as the never ending tears slip down your face.

he lifts a hand to cup your wet cheek, thumbing gently over the cut that lies across the top of your cheekbone. his eyes flick to yours in question and you nearly shake your head in disbelief because of course he’d worry more about you even after your father just beat him into the ground.

he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. the question still reflecting in them, your hand comes up to lay over his, “‘m okay..”

you are, physically. the cut stings and your cheek throbs but nothing can compare to the stabbing ache in your chest.

he doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer but doesn’t bother pushing, he can tell you have no energy to fight him on it. instead he leans his forehead heavily against your own.

both of you sit there, basking in the sounds of nature around you and the empty railroad. your occasional sniffles and daryls soft hushes accompany the worlds natural sounds. you imagine you guys look pretty ridiculous but you can’t find it in you to care.

••

“ow!”

“stop it” you roll your eyes, the cotton ball you hold between your fingers hadn’t even touched his eyebrow yet when he jerks his head away playfully.

he sits on the closed toilet seat as you stand between his legs. his hands gently rest on the back of your thighs as you tend to his physical wounds the best you could after you made sure he popped a couple painkillers for his aching body.

“if ya keep frowning like tha’, yer pretty face is gonn’ get stuck” daryls been trying to make you laugh since you’ve left the abandoned train station and drove to his home. you barely spoke in the car, mind constantly wandering elsewhere and eventually he gave up trying to keep any conversation going.

you focus on cleaning up what areas of damage you could on his skin as you mentally feared what lay underneath his tshirt, it looked like your father did not hold back when he laid those kicks against him. you shiver as you remember the scene again, daryls grunts of pains still echoing in your ears.

his hands rise to hold your hips instead, shaking your figure lightly until he gains your attention, “hey… we’re okay”

“why do you do that?” you sigh in frustration, hands dropping to your sides.

“do what?”

“disregard your pain like that.. daryl, we should go to the hospital to get you checked out” he shakes his head, it’s not the first time you suggested to go. it was actually the first place you thought of when you got behind the wheel of the black cadalliac but he talked you out of it. you’re regretting it now, he could have serious internal injuries.

“‘m okay” you’re not convinced, “promise belle.”

you wanna press more, somehow convince him to go but instead you go back to wiping his face and disinfecting his open cuts. with the dirt cleaned up and better lighting, you’re able to see his injuries more clearly. the cuts aren’t deep, rather it seems that the bruising will get the better of his handsome face but nothing as threatening as what he keeps hidden, you imagine.

sighing again, you throw the cotton ball into the trash, “can i check on your stomach now?”

daryl shakes his head, “‘m good, told ya’.. have had worse, let me check on ya” he stands up, hands still holding your hips as he switches positions. his face screws up in a slight wince as he does but drops it once you have settled onto the closed toilet lid.

the cut on your cheek is small, similar to the one he has. in different circumstances, you’d probably make a joke about the matching wounds but your mind is struggling to keep up with anything solid so it passes as every other thought you have. silence fills the air between you two, you lost in your own thoughts and daryl wondering where your mind is.

“he’s never hit me before..” your voice is a soft but the emotion it holds is enough to have daryls hand stilling before he goes back to dabbing an alcohol soaked cotton ball at your injury. it’s really nothing.. something small that will be swollen for a couple days then be gone, leaving a faded scar behind but that too will disappear with time. “maybe.. i-i don’t think he meant too..”

you’re a bit stunned still. the first time you saw him raise his hands at your mother, you were five. you remember trying to push him away, squirming in his hands as they gripped your small arms tightly against the sides of your body, holding you in front of him as he spoke, sometimes women need to be put back into their place. it made sense to your five year old self back then when you had no idea what being in love was like. as you got older, the reality of it became more apparent. he never did it infront of you again after you caught him slapping her when your mother accidentally broke a dish.

at the age of thirteen, you had rushed at him. pushing him away as you once did when you were smaller. fear covered your body but you stood strong infront of your father. maybe he knew he couldn’t manipulate your mind anymore, instead choosing to walk away and never speak on the subject again. since then, you’d never seen it happen but the evidence was there. the random new bruises or scratches that would appear on your mother became more obvious than ever.

confronting her was impossible. she chose to lie, claiming she bumped into something, oh you know me, clumsy as can be. it was bullshit and when you told her so, she sent you to your room with your so called foul mouth.

so you lived with it. you had too. where else would you go? you never saw or heard it so maybe that was the price to be paid for your innocence?

“prick shouldn’t hav’ to put his hands on anyone for anythin’.. meant to or not, he still hurt you” daryls voice is rough, a ring of anger still lingering in his words.

humming in acknowledgment, you close your eyes as your head tilts up in daryls hands, allowing him to care for you in the only way he does. always so soft and gentle.. just how you should always been handled, he thinks.

your eyes stay closed even as he releases you and shuffles about. his hands cup your face, thumb tracing around the wound tenderly before he leans down and presses a kiss near it.

the corner of your mouth quirks up at the small gesture, not yet a smile but something. you hum again before opening your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light again. daryls eyes linger over your face, leaving not an inch uncovered from his gaze, sometimes he thinks you aren’t real. some perfect figment of his imagination he conjured up to keep him company when he got lonely.

“c’mon” daryl holds a hand out, yours falling easily into his as he leads you to his bedroom. the warmth emitting from your body behind him is enough for him to believe you are infact real and willingly choosing be here with him.. it’s something he will never be able to wrap his head around.

he maneuvers around his room as you sit on the edge of the bed. he lays a shirt next to you but you make no move to put it on. your head hangs down so he can’t see the pitiful face you make, “hey.. hey, wha’s wrong?” he sits next to you, his arms reaching out to pull your body close but you push him away.

“will you stop that?” your voice is watery, “how.. how could you sit here with me after what just happened?”

daryls really fucking confused. he fish mouths for a bit, trying to find the words to say to calm your sudden emotional outburst.

“my father could have killed you..” you shake your head, “i stood there and did nothing..” a sob escapes your mouth, “after everything.. we’re here and you’re trying to take care of me when you can barely walk..” you heave deeply, “it never should have happened.. it’s my fault, daryl.. i’m so sorry”

daryl feels a bit tossed around at how you got here but there is one thing he knows for sure, “this ain’t yer fault” his tone is stern, “what yer father did.. tha’s on him, not you, got it?”

your shoulders shake as tears fall from your eyes, your head turning into your shoulder as you refuse to look at daryl. the act is childish but you can’t help it as you feel so small, so upset, so…. dumb for thinking that you could keep this hidden. that one day you would just up and leave with daryl without a trace. a stupid pipe dream, that’s all you had for your future.

“ya’ not getting it. listen to me.” daryl huffs, chewing on his lips roughly as he considers his next words before gripping your chin to face him, “… i love you” you let out a soft gasp but he continues, “i’d take as many beatings as it took to keep doing so”

“i wouldn’t ask of that from you” you lean your forehead against his, aching heart warm at his words. ones you never thought you’d hear before.

“don’ matter.. would do it all over again if it meant saving you from being hurt” his thumb brushes over the wound you suffer, his own stomach clenching at not being able to stop your father before letting it happen.

you notice the slight grimace on his face, the hurt he holds at the smallest fact that you were hurting. he is unreal, you think.

“i love you too, ya know that?” that familar glint is back in your eyes as you gaze into his. daryl is transfixed at the confirmation and all he can do is nod numbly, because.. he knows. maybe he has always known but his use of denial was always stronger. in this moment though, it’s powerless to the way you look at him and not a single doubt that you feel the same way towards him- fill him.

you chose to stay with him after your fathers threat, you cleaned him up, you worried about him.. how could he think any different when you have showed him in every way you could tonight and every other moment you had together? deserving of your love? that’s a different story but right now, daryl would rather bask in the love you have for one another than worry about such things.

you press a kiss to his lips, one full of your emotions towards him but it doesn’t go further than that, both of you exhausted and still hurting. your bodies separate to change as you grab the shirt daryl laid out for you, stripping down and slipping into it. it’s soft, hangs just below your butt and smells so much like him- earthly with a hint of nicotine.

you’re quicker at changing compared to daryl who stands a few feet away, wincing as he bends over to remove his jeans. he jumps when he feels your hands graze his, he didn’t even hear you sneak up on him. when your eyes meet, a quick shared conversation between them, he lets his hands go and allows yours to take their place. you help slide his jeans down and he kicks the rest off as you rise back up.

your fingers fiddle with the end of his shirt before you begin lifting it. when it’s fully off, you hold his gaze, afraid to look down but soon your eyes betray you as they fall to his midsection. massive red and purple bruises scatter across his stomach, going as high as his ribs and trailing as low as his hips.

“god… daryl” your fingers barely graze the bruises, in fear of hurting him more as they look so painful.

“told ya ’m fine..”

“it doesn’t look fine, you’re clearly in pain”

“i’ve had worse.. can we jus’ rest? jus’ wanna lay down with ya.. please” his voice is tired but soft and when he asks like that, how could you refuse?

he slips into bed first with the help of you before he scoots back and holds an arm out. you shuffle to turn the lights off before crawling in, facing him as you lie down. it’s silent as you study each others faces with the only light coming from the moon through the open window.

“so pretty..” the glow of the moonlight is just enough for you catch the pink that spreads on daryls cheeks after he lets his inner thoughts slip. you shake your head, a smile finally slipping onto your lips.

“you’re ridiculous” daryl just hums, the corner of his mouth quirking up. his hand cups your jaw, thumb tracing the grin upon your lips and you can’t help but let out a small giggle at the ticklish feeling. a certain playfulness in his touch that has you quirking an eyebrow in question, “thought you wanted to rest..”

daryl lets out a soft scoffed laugh, his fingers playfully pinching your nose, “alrigh’ smart ass”

you turn your head to the hand on your face, kissing his palm, “i love you..”

daryl hums, leaning in so he can kiss your forehead, then your nose, and then a bruising one full of love onto your lips. i love you too. your bodies shuffle about the bed until your back is pressed to daryls naked chest, him closing the distance you had originally set in fear of hurting him but he simply wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back until your bodies laid flushed together. a breath of relief released from you at the contact.

“ya gonn’ go home?” daryl questions quietly.

you shrug, “maybe.. eventually i’ll have to, right?”

it’s silent for a bit, “could jus’ shack it up in ‘ere with me”

you let out a small laugh, daryl hiding his own amusement into your neck.

“we’ll figure it out, yeah? me and you?” your voice is unsure, something you have never been about when it came to you and him but the unknown of what’s next terrifies you as you lay there in the silence.

daryl squeezes your body, pressing a reassuring kiss to the back of your shoulder, “we’ll figure ‘t out.. now go to sleep.”

the reality is you’ll have to go back, you know that. daryl too. you both were only in highschool, graduation just a couple months out.. you weren’t sure what the plan was after but as you lay wrapped in daryls arms, it didn’t matter so long as you had him by your side.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

A btc QNA? Alright I’ll bite 😎

Was the overall plan to make the series feel like a mashup of ucn and fnaf world? Like I know everything in the series is mentioned (even the Matt pat baby) (why did you have to remind me of it you monster ahhh!!! X-X) but overall the idea of the characters living in a new world screams fnaf world whilst including the main beats of ucn, so I was curious if that was at all intentional on your part?

And if that’s too simple a question then here’s a more nuanced one, what is your stance on changing pre existing characters into your own interpretation to tell a story? Like how you made the more elegant and soft spoken Ballora into a gremlin mother, or Phantom Freddy into a cinnamon bun… Like do you look for the best characters in the series to add these traits onto even if they aren’t preexisting traits, or do you just really like those characters and wanted to give them a bigger role and decided to fit them into the roles for the story?

It was intentional! Mainly because I did play FNaF World and saw it's connection to the Old Man Consequences minigame.

It's a mix of both things. There are characters we barely know anything about that are simply underrated, sure, but there are also iterations who have no relevancy, other than in-game mechanics. At some point, you can tie loose ends and make your own lore that works just as efficiently. Phantom Freddy is a great example in this case. There's much more about him beyond just being an enthusiastic and friendly sidekick... at least in the Behind The Codes story!

[vlovebug]

here’s the spelldon headcanons i promised:)

• he’s try’s to not make val go out during the sunnier parts of day so he doesn’t get burnt

• he will intimidate ( copy their stand and facial expressions ) other people when around them

• he was a toe walker

• he unintentionally scares people when trying to answer a question in class cus they generally forget he’s there

• he can’t sing for shit

• absolutely HATES cranberry juice

• helps val with his classwork and homework

• loves olives ( olive theory, val hates them)

• his blood makes vampires ( valentine ) extremely high when they drink it

• he’s a SIMP for glasses

• he stands so others can sit if there isn’t enough chairs, but he will only really stand behind a few monsters ( val, his sister, and of his friends or val’s friends)

• has absolutely decked someone on accident, poor boy got scared ( this time val was the one laughing at his misery)

• opens door for everyone

• gives piggy back rides

• i think he would like be strong cus he’s related to a literal god

• like the shit he is, rearranges stuff in the middle night

• one of his problems is that he thinks he know but he in fact does not know ( can be used for anything)

• he does all the lovey dovey stuff before val has a chance and likes to make him feel as loved as he can

• he got promise rings for both him and valentine

• likes carrot cake

• he teases vampires by saying “ bleh bleh bleh “ near them and it’s surprising how he’s not been hit yet

• he’s got a black cat named dirt cus he couldn’t think of anything else

• hates the beach cus he got pulled under and thrown back into the sand and swallowed a fuck ton of it, probably has a sea shell in his stomach ( bros a loser< i say that but it happened to me too>)

• asks for consent before he touches someone

• lights the cloud things that follow valentine on fire because i would too

• he will do really stupid things, it’s like he’s got no common sence in the moment ( people wonder how he’s gotten this far)

• says cowabonga

• he safety profes sharp thing so val doesn’t hurt himself ( when i make another val hc post i’ll explain why)

• has a christmas pickle ordiment ( fucking love them man)

• he is very understanding no matter the situation

• he’s a ‘ what flavor pad you need’ guy

• where’s spikes just cus

• has poked his and val’s eye’s multiple times forgetting the spikes where close by ( he slept on the floor that night)

• loves when people lay on him doesn’t matter the weight or size just lay on him and he’ll fall asleep in a matter of minutes ( same tho)

• his classwork and homework are full of doodles some good some bad

• cry’s when tried

• he’s a total baby when sick

• he cries when animals die in movies ( val to)

• always has sunscreen on him

i can’t think of anything else but i did give him some of my traits because he’s. 😋

[toast-of-eden]

I really, really like Kim Dokja as a woman in fics.

A cursory dive into men and women in ORV.

PREFACE: I love this IP as it is, I'm not a gender studies expert, and I'm a cis woman. So this is just me musing on this, and hopefully encouraging other writers and fanfic aficionados to fuck with gender roles and have fun with it.

I'm also not 100% sold that any of this was intended by the author or that other readers will like or agree with this take — a lot of it is how I, personally, have chosen to frame the text for myself.

I’ll also say that genderbending KDJ to make the Joongdok ship into a cishet one can be viewed as problematic, but I’m not really talking about the ship. More about the characterization.

I’m basically about to give you 2,000 words of this. That’s a lot. But here’s my Tl;dr

[Spoilers ahead. Also CW for some talk about SA in the webnovel.]

Just in case you don't feel like reading a 2,000 word character analysis and musing on men, women, and the treatment of gender in ORV.

Because ORV is largely told from Kim Dokja’s perspective, his view of gender and their roles is incredibly impactful on the narrative and the story we’re told.

That trickles down into how we’re shown characters and, in turn, how he values certain traits attributed to his concept of gender roles.

In the real world, pre-scenarios, he’s only seen the worst of men. From his father to his bullies to assholes at work — men just suck.

Enter Yoo Joonghyuk, the fictional hero of Ways of Survival.

YJH’s masculinity is, to Kim Dokja, what every man should really strive to be. Yes, he’s very strong and very handsome — but he's also deeply emotionally complex. He also cooks, cleans, and raised a baby all by himself, SO.

Add women to the mix: KDJ is absolutely surrounded by strong and resilient women right from the jump. We saw what Han Sooyoung and Kim Sookyoung did with the little fuzzy knowledge they had in the early scenarios. I can’t even imagine what they could have done with KDJ’s reference material.

All that combined makes female Kim Dokja just... honestly a powerhouse of a character to explore in my opinion.

Men in the "real world."

Growing up, Kim Dokja's male role models were... lackluster. At best. And Kim Dokja didn't fit any of the forms of masculinity presented to him.

His father, the first male role model in most children’s lives, was an abusive piece of shit.

At school, he was bullied by other boys.

Moreover, he wasn't able to thrive in the army, nor could he thrive in a white collar environment (see: Han Myungoh).

And why the fuck would he want to be like that guy?

So Kim Dokja's male role model was found in a web novel. Yoo Joonghyuk, a fictional character, captured his attention.

Yoo Joonghyuk is what Kim Dokja believes an ideal man should be from his beginning all the way to his end — round zero to 1863 and beyond. He wants to be like that guy.

Yoo Joonghyuk = complex, strong, deeply emotional but resilient

Men in the real world = churlish, brutish, villainous, or otherwise just meatheads.

That leads me to men in the early scenarios.

From the earliest scenarios, Kim Dokja is surrounded by strong women. Right from the jump.

Yoo Sangah adjusts to the new world almost immediately. Jung Heewon's sense of justice makes her the strongest member of the group. Han Sooyoung is a BAMF. Lee Seolhwa is the smartest person in the room and the only woman who's ever caught and held Yoo Joonghyuk's attention. Hell, Shin Yoosoung is Kim Dokja's powerhouse ward and loyal follower — to the point that she reincarnates herself without her memories to serve his purpose.

Aside from Lee Hyunsung, whom Kim Dokja often describes as a being a real stand up guy, the only man he spends real significant amount of time with is Yoo Joonghyuk.

We have to remember that this story is from Kim Dokja's perspective, so it's entirely possible that there were other men around, but that he just didn't see it that way.

At any rate, the worst, least complex characters are often the men of the story. This is especially true of the men in the early scenarios, which show Kim Dokja’s POV a little more straightforwardly, so I’m going to use them as primary examples.

Take, for example, Chapter 17: Ep. 4 - Line of Hypocrisy, II. Here, Kim Dokja has come upon a disheveled Jung Heewon who's dying in the street with her "jacket...half removed and a bit of her skirt...torn," left for dead lying in the streets, slowly dying from poison gas. He assumes she's been sexually assaulted.

He quickly figures out who the attackers are, because they try to attack him too. When Uriel starts a bounty scenario to take the villains down, Kim Dokja says this:

And again:

Men in the real world = churlish, brutish, villainous, or otherwise just meatheads.

Let's get even more literal here.

Take, for example, Song Minwoo, a bully from the pre-scenario world who shows up during the scenarios as a literal monster.

This is a villanous male in Kim Dokja's life who, coincidentally, has some of the same knowledge as him, having read some of the chapters of Ways of Survival. And he learned nothing, except how to bully better.

Yo FUCK that guy.

Let's go for another example.

Quality Assurance Dept. Deputy Yoon Sangho and the Mino Soft coin farm.

Coincidentally (completely on purpose) in the same chapter we meet Song Minwoo, we're introduced to another male character who was actually not antagonistic IRL.

Guess what? He's antagonistic now.

As a quick recap, when Kim Dokja gets there, he finds that the coin farm has captured Han Sooyoung. They plan to "make content" with her, and Yoon Sangho offers Kim Dokja a first go at her if he gives them more resources.

Read panels left to right, top to bottom.

Ew.

So much ew.

ANYWAY. Will reiterate the pattern here:

Men in the real world = churlish, brutish, villainous, or otherwise just meatheads.

I don't think it's a stretch for sexual violence to be considered a man's weapon. I also don't think it's a stretch to imagine that Kim Dokja, in spite of knowing this, won't attribute it to gender verbally — he'll just show us how he sees it. That's... kind of his thing.

Let's touch on Yoo Joonghyuk as Kim Dokja's Masthead for just a second before getting into the women of ORV.

I won't get into the later scenarios too much, because a majority of the new male characters are transient aside from Yoo Joonghyuk and his various regressions. And then we get POVs from (ahem) other characters.

So I'll get into YJH's regressions.

I've really hammered in how much men suck in ORV, but not really much about why Yoo Joonghyuk isn't like that. He's Kim Dokja's companion. His foil. (The love of his life.)

This is where things get complicated, because this guy is literally Kim Dokja's role model and, in a lot of ways, the center of his universe.

But that's why it's also most interesting part.

Yoo Joonghyuk remains the masthead. And it's not for his physical strength.

In spite of all of his changes in personality, he's still the same person underneath, who's fundamentally lonely and depressed as all hell. He's seen lifetimes of loss and goes on to transcend humanity, time, and space to become a fucking god. Even so, he perseveres through it to find the very end.

That emotional resilience and strength is what Kim Dokja admires in his only male role model.

Now let’s turn our eyes to the women in ORV.

Oh, this is so juicy.

The characters that show the most development in both the short and long time, with the exception of Lee Hyunsung, are women. I'm just gonna name some of the women in the early scenarios. There are so, so, so many other examples, from constellations to YJH's mentor, etc.

In order of appearance (I think):

Yoo Sangah

The most adaptable character of the earlier chapters

She starts chapter 1 as a high-achieving, kind of prim lady. She very quickly makes a deal with her constellation to become a badass who wears a catsuit, becoming stronger and stronger, kicking asses and taking names. She's also still good with kids.

Once it's established she's not a love interest, though, her prominence largely fades from the story. Side-eye.

Jung Heewon

Literally the best person KDJ knows. The moral high-ground and trauma-buster.

As previously mentioned, her first appearance in ORV is as an SA victim. Within about 10 minutes of reading time, she shows that she's able to put aside her trauma and discomfort to get shit done (a very traditionally masculine trait, by the way). She serves as the absolute good of KimCom and is often portrayed at the angel on his shoulder. She's also one of the strongest characters in the series by the end.

Shin Yoosoung

The little girl who believed she was evil, and eventually became it until she defied her fate.

A little girl who will one day become a villain. It can't be understated how complex this girl's trauma is from the moment we meet her, especially knowing that her fate is to be betrayed and trapped in slavery for all of eternity.

Kim Sookyung

The Wanderer King, Kim Dokjas mother, a false villain.

Fate did Kim Sookie dirty.

First of all, she introduced Kim Dokja to reading and the joy of reading things again and again, which eventually led him to Ways of Survival.

When Kim Dokja killed his abusive father as a young child, she framed herself so that she'd take the fall for the incident.

She wrote a book to collect royalties and help him live an independent life while she was in prison. To protect him from the truth, she let herself be the villain to her own son.

He held onto that — he was bullied in school because of her, and he didn't know the truth. So he resented her.

And when the truth came out, and Kim Dokja realized she wasn't the villain, she was eaten by the Fourth Wall. Holy shit. Of course, she was spit right back out when Dokja begged for it, but holy shit.

Long story short: not only was she not a villain, she maintained an unconditional familial and selfless love for Kim Dokja and protected him from the worst trauma imaginable by taking on the role of a villain.

Kim Dokja as a woman.

In my opinion. Just mine. Based on all the above.

Kim Dokja as a woman in explorative fics is fascinating to me.

As someone who's never resonated with traditionally masculinity, admired the story for what it was, defied it in the way he did, and admired the protagonist in a deeply emotional way, I just... just...

AH.

Ruthless, cunning, manipulative, largely (largely) asexual (we don't have to get into that here), and probably (maybe?) aromantic (definitely aromantic) — these are all traits that subvert traditional femininity too.

And I have to say — the family of cishet wiil-they-won't-they tropes could also be greatly subverted here, because this isn't a romance. It's a story about companionship.

I want emotional intimacy without the physical intimacy. I want the physical intimacy without the emotional intimacy. I want platonic love explored without emotional or physical intimacy at all.

But most importantly, I want it from a female character. Because I think that would be fucking cool. I’m tired of “woman with bow and arrow hates dresses and isn’t like other girls,” and I’m also tired of, “woman likes dresses but goes so super traditionally feminine that she eschews any masculine traits at all.” There’s a flavor of empowerment in both. But I want to see a next evolution, pleeeease.

[cyanide-latte]

💬

SOME YEARS AGO AT NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE...

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

Chrys lifted his head wearily and took in the speaker. Dark skin, a slim build and a damned impressive undercut weave. The other boy had an easy, cocksure grin as he rested a hand on the space across the table from Chrys, who could have sworn he'd seen him around before but couldn't place his name.

“Don't see a name on it, so no,” he answered.

That broad grin somehow got bigger, and the other boy dropped into the seat, sliding his lunch onto the table.

“I can tell by the look on your face you're trying to place me, so why don't I make it a little easier on you?” he said. “I'm Sam.”

Feeling relieved, Chrys replied with “Call me Chrys.”

“Not to intrude on your space or anything like that,” Sam remarked, dahlia-purple eyes flicking over the table and the marked lack of companions as Chrys poked half-heartedly at his own food, “but I wanted to introduce myself and I hoped we could chat.”

Chrys frowned, placed his elbows on the tabletop, folded his hand together and propped his chin atop them. “You've done the first,” he said. “There something in particular you're wanting from the latter?”

With a gentle snap of his fingers, Sam set his food to unwrapping itself and leaned back a little. “You're pretty direct, I see.”

“Eh, call it a family trait.”

“Well, to answer the question…I suppose I find you interesting.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” Chrys asked, unable to completely keep a note of suspicion out of his voice. What cursory attention he received as Octavinelle’s Housewarden was just part-and-parcel to the position; most people wanted nothing to do with him outside of it, especially not his own dormmates. Which meant it was likely that the sudden interest was because of the blastcycle accident and his leg. “If you’re here for an autograph, I’m going to have to disappoint you today.”

Sam lifted his brows, barely paying attention as his shadow apparently detached itself from where it should have been, floated up beside him, and cut a small square from his sandwich to offer to him. He took it automatically, never breaking eye contact with Chrys.

“I take it you’re referring to the way people’ve been gawking since your accident.”

Despite himself, Chrys smiled. “Thanks for being direct back. Yeah, you’re right on the money with that.”

Sam gave a cluck of his tongue and popped the bit of sandwich into his mouth, chewing a bit before he swallowed and shook his head. “My sympathies. And an apology as well for the misunderstanding,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to give such an impression.”

Chrys lifted a brow, mildly surprised. “None taken,” he answered. “So then…?”

“Like I said, I find you interesting,” Sam reiterated. “I had been indecisive about reaching out, but when I saw the open space, I thought I’d take a chance. I’m not exactly the gambling sort, but I had a good feeling today.”

Chrys watched him for a minute, swarmed briefly by tiny little shadows flitting around like baby bats seeking attention from a parent. What exactly did he find interesting? What gave him such a good feeling? He needed a second to further reassess.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he eventually said, deciding that there was something sincere enough about Sam he could take a risk.

Sam’s grin was broad and genuine. “Good. It was one. If you need any reassurance, we can shake on it.”

And, quite despite his wariness, Chrys could tell right then and there they were going to become friends.

—————

So this one was slightly cheating, as I'd been working on this ficlet here and there, but this provided me with a good opportunity to bring up something I've not yet mentioned in regards to my boy Chrysanthos before, which is his friendship with Sam, the proprietor of The Mystery Shop. Details might be subject to slight tweaking in the future but they're a friendship I eventually want to talk about more. Yes, the friendship continues on long past Chrys's experience as a student, and I headcanon that Sam is one of Chrys's son Kit's honorary uncles.

Taglist: @ramshacklerumble @blithesharem @tixdixl @inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children

@distant-velleity @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter @rainesol @elenauaurs (message me if you want to be added to the taglist for my TWST OC stuff!)

[yurayura-kurage]

A3! Troupe Event: MY WORST WEDDING | Event Story Translation (8/11)

Neither Japanese nor English is my first language so please forgive me if I made mistake. However, feel free to point me out, I’d love to hear your feedbacks on the translation ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Translation under the cut

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sakyo’s mother: ––Oh my, so this is what the bride’s makeup room looks like. It’s princess-like.

Azami: I’m sorry for being selfish. The one who stirred Sakyo up is me.

Sakyo’s mother: It’s alright. Because there is no doubt that you guys will never be able to persuade me unless doing this way, Sakyo said this just then, right.

Sakyo is also a stubborn child, isn’t he? He really inherited my personality traits well.

…I’m sorry. Now that you guys have had things done for me, maybe I should just honestly and happily receive it…

Azami: I know. Look at this first.

Sakyo’s mother: ––

Azami: This dress was made by Yuki-san, our theater troupe’s costume designer after asking Sakyo’s younger sister to check your size. 

Sakyo’s mother: Eh, you guys went out of your way just to do this for me…?

Azami: When I asked, he was excited to prepare the dress.

Sakyo is always stingy to pay for the fabric for our theater troupe’s costume, but when he asked Yuki-san to make the dress with the highest quality clothing materials, Yuki-san was pumped up. 

Sakyo was the one who paid for all the materials to make the dress. He also said that he’d pay for the designing and tailoring cost too, but Yuki-san told him he enjoyed making the dress, and it was for Sakyo’s mother so he’s gonna make it for free.

Sakyo’s mother: So that’s it… This dress is so beautiful.

Azami: Sakyo also said “If she doesn’t want to wear it, then that’s fine. It’s just the same as the hair tie I gave her back then.”

Sakyo’s mother: That child… He still remembers that story.

Azami: This is the dress that Yuki-san made only for you, so it’ll definitely look good on you. And I’ll make sure that you can wear it with confidence after I do the makeup and style your hair.

So why don't you give it a try and then decide what to do? Please, I beg you.

Sakyo’s mother: …If you insist, then I guess I can’t say no anymore. I’m counting on you.

But why does Azami-kun have to go this far?

Azami: It’s gonna be a quite long story, so I’ll tell you ‘bout it while putting on the makeup.

*Short timeskip*

Azami: I grew interested in makeup when helping my sick mother with her makeup.

Sakyo’s mother: Your mother is…

Azami: She passed away when I was still a kid.

Sakyo’s mother: I see…

Azami: After my mother passed away, Sakyo came to my house. My dad was busy, so Sakyo has been taking care of me for a long time…

*Flashback*

Dad brought Sakyo to my house when I was 6 years old.

“Sakyo?” “Right. From now on, this guy will take care of you.”

Ever since I was a baby, there were lots of young folks (*) coming in and out of my house frequently, so it’s not strange to see newcomers in my house, but among them, Sakyo was very young.

Until then, it was the young folks taking turns to pick me up and drop me off at the nursery school. But since that day, Sakyo has been in charge of all those duties.

“Oi, Sakyo. I’m thirsty." “What did you just call me… Here, drink some water.”  “I want orange juice.”  “If you only drink sweet things, you’ll get cavities in your teeth.”  “Orange juice!”  “You can drink it only when you eat snacks.”

“Then, I’ll have some snacks.” “Only after you’re done learning how to use the abacus.” “Annoying.” “It’s gonna be useful if you can memorize it.” “No one does that.”

“Then what are your pals doing?" “Don’t know. I’ve never hung out with them.” “...Do you want to play with bubble wrap.” “That’s boring!”

He’s naggy, and looked like a cold person at first, but he kept following me because it was his responsibility to watch over me.

I even spent more time together with him than with my dad, we started to open up with each other gradually, and it slowly became more fun playing with him.

When my mom passed away, I pretended to look fine in front of my dad, but deep down in my heart, that was a huge shock to me.

It was undoubtedly thanks to Sakyo that I was able to truly get over my mom’s death at that time. 

*Back to present*

Azami: Our relationship is different now, but we used to be close in the past. Thanks to Sakyo, I was able to pull myself together and regain my energy, even when I was in elementary school––.

That’s right. Actually I wanted to say thanks to you for this when we met last time.

Sakyo’s mother: These cards are…

Azami: When my dad banned me from playing the popular card game when I was in elementary school, Sakyo made these cards for me and played with me.

You’re the one who originally created this right?

Sakyo’s mother: That’s right… So that’s it… Sakyo gave them to you… 

Fufu. How nostalgic.

When I was making these cards while waiting for Sakyo to return home, I was disappointed with myself that I couldn’t buy him a popular toy. 

But that child looked really happy playing my handmade cards, and I was saved by that. It was hard to make a living back then, but thanks to his presence, I was able to overcome many hardships.

He has grown up now, but he’s still a little shy and cute, isn’t he.

Fufu. This is nostalgic. I wish I could hug that small child again… There’s no way he will let me hug him now.

Azami: Speaking of hugs… People seem to do wedding hugs these days.

The thing you do after taking the oath, t-that’s too shameless but… it’s okay if it’s just a hug right?

Sakyo’s mother: That’s right… Then maybe I wouldn’t feel embarrassed even in front of my children.

…But that child and Azami-kun are pretty similar. His father also passed away because of illness when he was little…

Azami: Perhaps Sakyo is doing his best to support my dad because he can’t show filial piety to his father anymore.

I’m also the same. I want to do something for you, and for the part I couldn’t do for my mom. It’s completely my own self-satisfaction though…

Here, it’s done.

Sakyo’s mother: It’s not your self-satisfaction. I’m pleased, too.

…I don’t look like myself. It’s like Cinderella’s magic, isn’t it.

It would be a waste if I don’t take photos when putting on this wonderful makeup and wearing this special dress that you guys prepared for me. 

If I don’t keep this as a commemoration, I may regret it for the rest of my life.

Azami: That means––.

Sakyo’s mother: I wonder if I can fit into this dress though.

Azami: It seems that it was made to be easy to adjust the waist and so on.

Sakyo’s mother: As expected of costume designer-san.

Azami: I’ll call someone to help you change costumes.

Sakyo’s mother: Ah, wait a minute––

Azami-kun, thank you for always taking care of that child.

Azami: ––No, as I told you earlier, it was me who has been taken care of for a long time…

Sakyo’s mother: Even this time too, I now understand Sakyo’s recent place to belong is–– I realize how important and precious the theater troupe and your house are to Sakyo.

He sometimes told me that he was looking after you when you were a kid… That child, he seemed to be having a lot of fun while complaining all the time, didn’t he.

Ever since he became your caretaker, the atmosphere around Sakyo has changed, he even became softer.

He worried about you so much that he couldn’t put his mind at ease as if he had a child of his own.

…That’s why you are like a grandchild to me.

From now on, please continue taking care of that child.

Azami: …Yeah.

Translator’s note:

(*) He was using the word “若い連中” here, which literally means young folks, and as far as I understand, this also refers to the young people who don’t have a certain rank in a yakuza group.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Previous || Next